Something a little different today that I was recommended by one of the listeners to the show (Cheers Jim!).
Gutterblood (https://www.facebook.com/gutterblood) are from Peebles, Scotland, and they formed in 2019. Their name is a Scottish word for a low person of inferior breeding (one of the rabble). Their music is a fusion of blues, indie, doom, punk and prog. They're a trio who "seize the socio-political climate of the day, incorporating it into the live arena by using samples and heavy, groove driven dynamics." They claim to be a mostly instrumental band but when you check out their debut album you'll see that there's lyrics aplenty (many of them well chosen samples).
That debut album is Self Titled, it was released last December (though the cd version is out on Thurs 16th March) and it's a record you can easily lose yourself in. Their sound brings to mind both Mogwai (rich, classy instrumentation) and Benefits (spoken word monologues of a political nature but less abrasive in tone). For your first listen can I recommend you take yourself away somewhere quiet that you can immerse yourselves in what is a aural and lyrical treat.
The album is available as a name your price download : https://gutterbloodband.bandcamp.com/album/gutterblood-l-p
This is the opening track, its called Alienation...
"And let me right at the outset define what I mean by Alienation
It's the cry of men who feel themselves the victims of blind, economic forces beyond their control
It's the frustration of the great mass of ordinary people excluded from the processes of decision making
It's the feeling of despair and hopelessness that pervaids people who feel with every justification that they have no real say in shaping or determining there own destinies" (Jimmy Reid)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
The punks were pulling on their boots
I was six years old on a picket line and in the evening my mother made me watch the mini series Roots
I got the jist
Well the strike went on for 9 long weeks and they had to sent the army in
Some of them died
The Green goddesses were not fit for purpose and the tinder box lived right up to it's name
Well Christmas came and went, not much of an event
Our family got our picture in the Evening Times
But poverty was respectful then and most people had that wee bit of pride still...
Two years down the line it was 1979
It was the turn of the Clyde and the mines
We were told to 'retrain', 'get on your bikes', 'keep up with the times' Jesus Christ, I left school with a smile and I thought I had guile right up to my YTS
I'll not even mention the job club
With no ships or coal you could work for your dole
You're a wage slave but minus the wage
Not that these tasks were appealing to me, the truth be told
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
I was pulling my boots on now
But the revolution had long been televised
I accept that I had missed the boat
No frigging in the rigging for me
I was doing all nighters watching the hit man and her and stealing my mothers fags
I'd attend the occasional LPYS meeting but I found it a bit culty and I only really went because there was this girl I fancied that went, when she stopped showing up, so did I
I'd attend the occasional demonstration
But some of my old school friends were now in the BNP
They would try and attack us
And that made me a little bit paranoid
I did find a group of friends eventually and they would drag me to anarchist meetings
But I remember getting called a 'schemie' for turning up with a bag of chips
And pretending to like Discharge was impossible but for the most determined
However I had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do
So I did the best I could to have fun with it
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men clearing their browser history
That's the sound of the men calling me a libtard
That's the sound of you clapping for the nurses
That's the sound of the soccer mom dropping off her psychos
With an extra clip in their pack lunch box
That's the sound of finding a sense of belonging
Somewhere you don't belong
Some people talk about a mid life crisis
Some people experience lifelong crisis
And that's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
It's the cry of men who feel themselves the victims of blind, economic forces beyond their control
It's the frustration of the great mass of ordinary people excluded from the processes of decision making
It's the feeling of despair and hopelessness that pervaids people who feel with every justification that they have no real say in shaping or determining there own destinies" (Jimmy Reid)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
The punks were pulling on their boots
I was six years old on a picket line and in the evening my mother made me watch the mini series Roots
I got the jist
Well the strike went on for 9 long weeks and they had to sent the army in
Some of them died
The Green goddesses were not fit for purpose and the tinder box lived right up to it's name
Well Christmas came and went, not much of an event
Our family got our picture in the Evening Times
But poverty was respectful then and most people had that wee bit of pride still...
Two years down the line it was 1979
It was the turn of the Clyde and the mines
We were told to 'retrain', 'get on your bikes', 'keep up with the times' Jesus Christ, I left school with a smile and I thought I had guile right up to my YTS
I'll not even mention the job club
With no ships or coal you could work for your dole
You're a wage slave but minus the wage
Not that these tasks were appealing to me, the truth be told
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
I was pulling my boots on now
But the revolution had long been televised
I accept that I had missed the boat
No frigging in the rigging for me
I was doing all nighters watching the hit man and her and stealing my mothers fags
I'd attend the occasional LPYS meeting but I found it a bit culty and I only really went because there was this girl I fancied that went, when she stopped showing up, so did I
I'd attend the occasional demonstration
But some of my old school friends were now in the BNP
They would try and attack us
And that made me a little bit paranoid
I did find a group of friends eventually and they would drag me to anarchist meetings
But I remember getting called a 'schemie' for turning up with a bag of chips
And pretending to like Discharge was impossible but for the most determined
However I had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do
So I did the best I could to have fun with it
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men clearing their browser history
That's the sound of the men calling me a libtard
That's the sound of you clapping for the nurses
That's the sound of the soccer mom dropping off her psychos
With an extra clip in their pack lunch box
That's the sound of finding a sense of belonging
Somewhere you don't belong
Some people talk about a mid life crisis
Some people experience lifelong crisis
And that's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
