Nothing Short of Total War

LP/CD released in 1989 on Blast First (BFFP13), also issued as a 10 7" boxed set called the Devil's Jukebox on Blast First (BFDJ1-10)

Good comp with two nice Big Black songs, but also of interest for the Arsenal (Santiago Durango post-Big Black) and Rapeman (Steve Albini post-Big Black) songs. The LP version has five songs less than the CD--but I don't know which five songs are cut...

Also released (with a different tracklist) as the Devil's Jukebox

barely literate liner notes:

'A Lengthy Indictment Against Our Century'

I suppose today's hip young indie label about town should have the hulking cool of a Byron Coley jazz note or the beer stained ranting of a certain stuttering frenchman (see enclosed vinyl--what do you think cds are made of--for further evidence) but they were lost to detox of the rigours of writing the unofficial Karl Malden biography so you got me...and oh what a stupid concept in the sleeve note anyway. Those hippie incantations gathering dust (John Peel was a master of the art) or as endless lists of Mike Woolhat's favourite things, or my favourites, the one detailing Dusty Springfield's penchant for throwing food at people. But hush gentle reader, you are too young to remember such things: indeed, there are ears out there who hear Sister as Sonic Youth's first LP, t'was not so...

Back in the mists of time, as I lounged around the offices of Rough Trade, stealing records and defacing Smiths posters I happened upon another delinquent squatter a certain Mr. P. Smith who sold me his story. It seems that everybody's favourite wicked witch of the north, Miss Lydia, had encouraged struggling young pop combo Ciccone Youth to get in touch with El Supremo Smith; he waved the tape of Bad Moon Rising in front of my nose and yelled demoniacally, "Look what I got in exchange for smuggling Thurston Moore into the country in a guitar case, it's the new Sonic Youth album, and it's all mine, signed in blood on pain of death and forfeiture." "Good choice, young fellow," says I and, inflating with a sense of hipdom I recounted my tale of having seen them play CBGB's in NYC one year earlier. "These guys rock and believe me, they'll light up the phone lines."

"Come and join our merry band," said Smith, impressed by my music biz jargon, and for bread and water twice a day I was signed.

Before you could say 'I should co-co' there were Sonic Youth up on stage at the ICA Rock Week, shooting up pumpkin heads with their pals Balaam and the Angel, wowing the audience and even the journalists in the bar. All this brought tears of joy to organizer Brenda Kelly who remembered her good friends later, when she rose the stardom as the thinking woman's Janet Street Porter. "Melvin, sir" quoth she as she knelt before the nasally one, "I'd like to recommend Snub TV superstars..." Well, the rest, as we say, is herstory.

Along the way Sonic Youth introduced various friends and rivals to BF, a skinny young man with no arse form Chicago. A duo, the result of the ungodly coupling of Sonny, Cher, Tonto and the Lone Ranger. The Spahn Ranch Mr. Peppermint good boys 'n' gals society, Texas and from the Lesbian capital of the word the number one somnambulistic teen pin-up Peter Frampton fan. And on and on...

As Blast First started to grow to be the mighty and wonderous facade it is today we got in the post our first demo tape! Someone had taped over the Crossroads Wedding Souvenir Soundtrack with a fine distant grunge of songs about Mad Jack and the black country vole population. At last an English band was discovered. (editor's note: do NOT take this as encouragement to send in those godawful demo tapes, that box over there is full of them and about to be dumped in the Harrow Road Canal OK?) And so we come to thise Complication full of tunes from all your BF faves and lovingly cemented together by P. Smith. Check out this mortar and take a look at the re-issued Vorticist manifesto/magazine Blast. That will give you a good idea of what is torched onto the belly of the beast. BLAST!BLAST!BLAST! swearing as an integral part of philosophy. Dear whored...

"But where's Death Valley 69?" you moan. Oh COME ON don't be so damn boring. A greatest hits compilation? (quick and easy profits suckers) Hands up who bought it for the Ut tracks? Let's face it, most will shell out/steal for the likes of Sonic Youth, the Buttholes or Big Black (is there a R***man track on this? fucking stupid name) and in the process you get to hear stuff you were too ignorant to open your ears to: that weird jazz guy or the genius composer with the David Bowie stubble...okay, okay smart arse you bought it for those tracks alone. SO!?? so you probably read Melody Maker. Oh screw it, who cares?

As I ride my motorboat into the sunset I'd like to say this is for Moira and Ruth, for Byron and Jimmy, the Kray, Sonic Lifers everywhere and anyone who'd like to join me in inventing a slow and painful death for daytime Radio One DJ's. And by the way, don't go returning your LPs to the shop saying they're scratched. That's just the Lee Ranaldo solo track. HA! Nobody's perfect.

PAT.