ARTiST: Jeffrey Lewis
ALBUM: 12 Crass Songs
BiTRATE: 185kbps avg
QUALiTY: EAC Secure Mode / LAME 3.97 Final / -V2 --vbr-new / 44.100Khz
LABEL: Rough Trade
GENRE: Indie
SiZE: 58.60 megs
PLAYTiME: 0h 42min 03sec total
RiP DATE: 2007-10-03
STORE DATE: 2007-10-01
Track List:
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01. End Result 3:26
02. I Ain't Thick 5:05
03. System System 3:28
04. Gas Man 3:07
05. Roxy 1:59
06. Columbus 4:18
07. Do They Owe Us 1:42
08. Secureacore 1:33
09. Demoncratz 5:47
10. Big A 5:12
11. Punk Is Dead 2:57
12. Walls 3:29
Release Notes:
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Jeffrey Lewis, Lord love him, is no Pavarotti. This means a number of things: on
the plus side, heÆs thinner, and not dead; but when God parcelled out the
voiceboxes, JeffÆs spent three months in shipping until the Royal Mail finally
invoiced the family for a ú10 cover charge to collect it from a depot in
Berkshire. And when it got there, the contents had suffered severe water damage.
In short, singing isnÆt LewisÆs strong point.
This isnÆt normally a cause for concern when the lyrics are as witty as his
voice is shitty, but the virtues of his originality, personality, and flair
cannot be applied as justification for an album of punk covers. Without his own
creative contribution, is a Jeffrey Lewis album still going to be worth the
listen? Naysayers may say nayùitÆs what they do, after all. But the truth is,
LewisÆs latest 12 Crass Songs, despite his numerous technical failings, more
than comes up with the goods.
It helps that the source material is strong. My previous materialistic metaphor
was an example of why the world needed Crass; the thought structures of
capitalism are embedded in our language, and CrassÆs brutal but beautiful
proto-hardcore demolished these cultural concepts in song like no band before or
since. Led by the cruelly-misnamed Steve Ignorant and the wholly appropriate Eve
Libertine, Crass destroyed, and in realizing this Lewis made his first step
towards a half-decent album of their songs. This is not just ôpunk covers,ö in
the awful pop-played-wrong sense, and itÆs not a ôtributeö album either,
eschewing mish-mash and low-grade, talent-raping filler to make room for sharp,
insightful reinterpretations.
Lewis works within his limits, and by doing so, takes the songs out of theirs.
Where Ignorant used his glottal grunt as a blunt instrument, Lewis fits his
weedy strain to the originalsÆ lurking paranoia. On ôEnd Result,ö he sounds
weak, scared, corneredùlike the ôscapegoat of useless, futureless, endless,
mindless ideasö the lyrics profess him to be. Where the original was a detuned
sped-up unravelling, the cover comes off as cyclical, a frail loop in danger of
structural collapse. Both have their own charm, though neither is either
artistÆs best work. The album comes into its own with the bleating/chanting
anti-slogans of ôI AinÆt Thick,ö where LewisÆs lone voice and quietly tingling
guitar comes off as defiant as CrassÆs full punk clatter.
Some songs, particularly ôSecuricor,ö seem made for acoustic reimaginings. ôPunk
Is Deadö gets finger-picked like a bargain basement Leonard Cohen, while
ôSystematic Deathö makes for a rollicking Dylanesque ramble, thin bluegrass
soloing pushing up between Green & Dawson-style vocal interplay like weeds in
the pavement, finally crushed when the voices combine for the songÆs pessimistic
finale. ôThe Gasman Comethö is neatly updated with loping bass and strange
Spaghetti Western effects; ôBanned for the Roxyö lets Lewis over-fill his vocal
lines to his heartÆs content while the trashy, joyous chords will put smiles on
the faces of iGeneration bedroom learner-strummers the world over. ôDo They Owe
Us,ö the first song Crass wrote is in and out in under 1:45, with particularly
glorious playgroup exuberance. All told, Lewis has a gift for making classics
out of classics, and throughout this smart, inspired album, thereÆs rarely a
wrong note hit. (I speak metaphorically.)