#13: Buzzcocks - Another Music In A Different Kitchen (1978)

1. Fast Cars
2. No Reply
3. You Tear Me Up
4. Get On Your Own
5. Love Battery
6. Sixteen
7. I Don't Mind
8. Fiction Romance
9. Autonomy
10. I Need
11. Moving Away From The Pulsebeat
12. Orgasm Addict*
13. Whatever Happened To...?*
14. What Do I Get?*
15. Oh Shit*

(Note: Tracks marked with a * only appeared on the CD re-issue of the album.)

I saw a reformed (well, sort of - only two of the members were in the original lineup) Buzzcocks live supporting Maxïmo Park at the end of 2007 and really wasn't very impressed. This lead me to get into a rather stupid argument with someone about the band, in which I claimed that they only had one memorable song (hint: It's not on this record) and that I'd rather go watch Battles any day. This review is, in essence, an attempt to challenge my preconceptions about the band - or, perhaps, see them justified...

---

The word Buzzcocks, much to the band's chagrin, is perhaps just as likely to recall the music-based BBC gameshow as the band themselves. A sign, perhaps, that the band failed to leave as much of a lasting impression on the punk scene as some of their contemporaries? On this evidence, I'm beginning to think that may well be the case.

Things actually start out reasonably promisingly with 'Fast Cars', with the kind of trademark punk guitar thrash and raw intensity that could almost take you back to a riotous show in some dive in 1978, while Shelly sneers "I hate fast cars!" his voice a mixture of distaste and envy. Follow-up 'No Reply' buzzes along pleasingly enough, but then things start to go downhill from there. The songs feel like more and more like they're only based on a singular riff that quickly becomes repetitive, and they begin to outstay their welcome despite lasting less than two and a half minutes each. This comes to a head on 'Sixteen', where the band's decision to stretch the song's turgid riff out to nearly four minutes seems utterly ill-advised: I couldn't help but end up agreeing with Shelley's when he says "They go on and on and on and on, oh I wish they would stop!"... but for all the wrong reasons.

Ironically, just as the album threatens to spin itself into sickening repetition, 'I Don't Mind' comes along to save some face by injecting some poppy sensibilities, almost acting as a precursor to their most famous hit. But then it goes and shoots itself in the foot again with 'Fiction Romance', which starts out promisingly with a driving riff but again feels at least a minute longer than it needs to be. And then, like the musical equivalent of a guinea pig, it repeats its own mistake on the very next track, 'Autonomy'.

But let's step away from the limitations of the punk sound and have a listen to what the band are actually saying. Unfortunately, unlike their more politically-charged peers, their message is a little more shallow. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, and there are certainly some sentiments that are easy to relate to (not least "I wish I was sixteen again!"), but the album sometimes feels like little more than brattish moaning, with Shelly's half-sung, half-spoken vocals veering haphazardly between searing wit and a grating whine.

After 'I Need' speeds by with little consequence, the band unleash their final attempt at a song longer than three minutes on us: The seven-minute running time of 'Moving Away From The Pulsebeat' looks like a nightmare on paper, but turns out not to be too bad... for the first three and a half minutes or so, and then the song once again starts to drag. Mercifully, it cuts out into silence after about five minutes... and then starts up again with what sounds like a reprise of 'Fast Cars', before disappearing up its own arse in a series of echoey beeps in a truly bizarre moment.

Taking the tracks from the re-issue into account almost feels a little bit like cheating, but regardless there's a little bit of face saved in the forms of 'Orgasm Addict' and 'Oh Shit' - with the latter feeling like a belated realisation from the band that they're at their best when their songs clock in at less than two minutes.

I tried to like this album, and I'll be honest, I really wanted to hate it too. But I ended up being able to do neither, with the album inspiring little more than the very same boredom that it feels like it was conceived as an escape from. These are the kind of songs that get stuck in your head - but in an annoying way that means you end up with the same 5 seconds looping maddeningly around your brain, over and over again. These songs probably sounded amazing in some sweaty basement club in the late 70's, but now they feel mostly dated and forgettable - not what you'd hope for from an ostensibly 'legendary' band. So when punk becomes boring and the 'legends' are all too easily forgotten, all that's left is the overwhelming question: What's the point?