REFUSED: The Shape of Punk to Come
Amidst a sea of copycats and relatively bland hardcore bands of the mid 90's era, I, and many other true music lovers, view a grim future for hardcore music—the near genocide of an entire genre. Enter stage right: innovative design team, REFUSED. These four young, wiry Swedes come decked out in formal wear and dress shoes, with a taste for over the top stage antics and gaudy flair. Armed with danceable manifestos and catchy declarations of 'evil' capitalist philosophy, these gentlemen are here to sway your political thought and rock your socks right off—all the while never missing a tightly timed beat.
"REFUSED: A psychological scrutiny of their motives," reads the CD insert of their classic offering 'The Shape of Punk to Come.' After allowing this unexpected literature to permeate the folds of my mind, I know that I'm about to hear the likes of nothing I've ever experienced before. Musical revolution: the birth of genre(s).
It's early morning—possibly after a night of sweaty rock and roll and heavy partying in some smoked out underground club. An interview is taking place out on a cafe patio in the foggy streets of some European city. I hear the busy sounds of rush hour traffic drone on in the background and the slosh of gutter water—there has been fresh rain. The raspy voiced man pauses to lean over and tap his cigarette butt onto the cobblestone ground and then continues on with the interview, reminiscing about the days of old. It's practically a production scene right out of a motion picture, yet this is the record's first track, 'Worms of the senses/Faculties of the skull.' I am in fact, listening to the soothingly stripped vocal chords of front man, Dennis Lyxzen, who gives a brief rant about the predictable death of musical genres due to the loss of passion and creativity, and the fervent angst he holds as an artist—with the self-realization of responsibility.
Baby, this is the shape of punk to come.
Like a mixed palette of oil paints, digital effects and guitar feedback lead me like the Milky Way through space and time, to be suddenly confronted by the first lyrics of the album, which hit me like a brick wall of sound. A brutalizing declaration of political motivation and blazing beats ring out with the opening line, "I've got a bone to pick with capitalism, and a few to break!" My body quivers. I lean over and turn up the volume dial. This is an album that can only be appreciated in the full glory of its majestic swells of sound.
These politically charged tracks continue throughout the rest of the record repeating fanatical statements such as, "I took the first bus out of Coca-Cola city cause it made me feel all nauseous and shitty," and "Human life is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe. And yeah I like eating excrement and not getting paid for it." Bold and offensive claims riddled with socialist philosophy: this is what the band has been based on since its inception in the early 90's.
The songs play on with self indulgent demonstrations of musicianship, polyrhythms, and tempo changes filling the senses. These displays can be found throughout the record, yet nothing remains predictable. It's all been cleverly thought out and precisely timed—pure genius.
The eccentricity of this album continues to impress: the folkish radio-airwave manifesto 'Liberation Frequency,' and the brilliant beats of the percussive jazz infused 'The Deadly Rhythm.'
"But how can this be," you ask, "musical genres can't be blended!" Oh but they can darling, they can.
Shortly after the band's percussive demigod, David Sandstrom, finishes his breathtaking jazz drum work, angst filled punk rock hybrids keep my feet tapping and my blood pumping. Tracks like 'Summer Holidays Vs Punk Routine' boast such evocative lyrics as "We're all tired of dying—so sick of not trying. Scared that we might fail—we'll accomplish nothing. Not even failure," yet remain high energy and incredibly danceable, attesting to the status of these heavy hitting hardcore heroes. Refused proves those shoes were made for dancing.
Just before I reach the pinnacle of 'The Shape of Punk to Come,' a brief section of jungle beat drum and bass (known as goa), plays out. Jon Brannstrom, the experimental guitarist and sampling mastermind behind much of the revolutionary record, takes great pride in this ingenious installation. It's timely and executes the perfect lead up into the heart-pounding foot-stomping anthem, 'New Noise.'
This single, serves as the standard that Refused is establishing with their boldly zealous title claim. A repetition of tremolo work in fast cyclic fashion, credited to Kristopher Steen, the band's other guitarist prodigy, begins one of the most epic crescendos I have ever experienced—this record cannot just be heard. Jazz, electronica, anthemic choruses, pounding bass, and trade-off vocals blend together to form arena rock at its finest. Both live performance and studio work are fused into this track, giving this song an electric feel so alive that your heart rate sky rockets and your mouth dries out while hanging open in utter awe.
'The Shape of Punk to Come,' prophetic in nature, is an action packed, 12 tracked steam engine, blasting forward into the bright distance of the ever expanding horizon, forever pushing the boundaries of musical composition and predictable genre faux pas. Never did I think that a hardcore band would rid me of my musical innocence—this genre of music is typically heavy hitting, fast punching conventional hard rock, known for its trademark vocal stylings of blood curling screams: the music your parents warned you about. However, in such a predictable cesspool of sound, the band Refused did the unthinkable—they started a coup d'état (which oddly enough, was predicted by their previous release, 'Songs to Fan the Flames of Discontent').
By not playing by the typically confining rules of the hardcore genre, they created a new sound with 'The Shape of Punk to Come,' and forever birthed a generation of innovation. This musical masterpiece will shock the masses with its unprecedented creativity, and easily earn Refused a coveted spot in the hearts of many, and in the halls of musical ingenuity and reclamation forever.
Bravo fellows, bravo.
"REFUSED: A psychological scrutiny of their motives," reads the CD insert of their classic offering 'The Shape of Punk to Come.' After allowing this unexpected literature to permeate the folds of my mind, I know that I'm about to hear the likes of nothing I've ever experienced before. Musical revolution: the birth of genre(s).
It's early morning—possibly after a night of sweaty rock and roll and heavy partying in some smoked out underground club. An interview is taking place out on a cafe patio in the foggy streets of some European city. I hear the busy sounds of rush hour traffic drone on in the background and the slosh of gutter water—there has been fresh rain. The raspy voiced man pauses to lean over and tap his cigarette butt onto the cobblestone ground and then continues on with the interview, reminiscing about the days of old. It's practically a production scene right out of a motion picture, yet this is the record's first track, 'Worms of the senses/Faculties of the skull.' I am in fact, listening to the soothingly stripped vocal chords of front man, Dennis Lyxzen, who gives a brief rant about the predictable death of musical genres due to the loss of passion and creativity, and the fervent angst he holds as an artist—with the self-realization of responsibility.
Baby, this is the shape of punk to come.
Like a mixed palette of oil paints, digital effects and guitar feedback lead me like the Milky Way through space and time, to be suddenly confronted by the first lyrics of the album, which hit me like a brick wall of sound. A brutalizing declaration of political motivation and blazing beats ring out with the opening line, "I've got a bone to pick with capitalism, and a few to break!" My body quivers. I lean over and turn up the volume dial. This is an album that can only be appreciated in the full glory of its majestic swells of sound.
These politically charged tracks continue throughout the rest of the record repeating fanatical statements such as, "I took the first bus out of Coca-Cola city cause it made me feel all nauseous and shitty," and "Human life is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe. And yeah I like eating excrement and not getting paid for it." Bold and offensive claims riddled with socialist philosophy: this is what the band has been based on since its inception in the early 90's.
The songs play on with self indulgent demonstrations of musicianship, polyrhythms, and tempo changes filling the senses. These displays can be found throughout the record, yet nothing remains predictable. It's all been cleverly thought out and precisely timed—pure genius.
The eccentricity of this album continues to impress: the folkish radio-airwave manifesto 'Liberation Frequency,' and the brilliant beats of the percussive jazz infused 'The Deadly Rhythm.'
"But how can this be," you ask, "musical genres can't be blended!" Oh but they can darling, they can.
Shortly after the band's percussive demigod, David Sandstrom, finishes his breathtaking jazz drum work, angst filled punk rock hybrids keep my feet tapping and my blood pumping. Tracks like 'Summer Holidays Vs Punk Routine' boast such evocative lyrics as "We're all tired of dying—so sick of not trying. Scared that we might fail—we'll accomplish nothing. Not even failure," yet remain high energy and incredibly danceable, attesting to the status of these heavy hitting hardcore heroes. Refused proves those shoes were made for dancing.
Just before I reach the pinnacle of 'The Shape of Punk to Come,' a brief section of jungle beat drum and bass (known as goa), plays out. Jon Brannstrom, the experimental guitarist and sampling mastermind behind much of the revolutionary record, takes great pride in this ingenious installation. It's timely and executes the perfect lead up into the heart-pounding foot-stomping anthem, 'New Noise.'
This single, serves as the standard that Refused is establishing with their boldly zealous title claim. A repetition of tremolo work in fast cyclic fashion, credited to Kristopher Steen, the band's other guitarist prodigy, begins one of the most epic crescendos I have ever experienced—this record cannot just be heard. Jazz, electronica, anthemic choruses, pounding bass, and trade-off vocals blend together to form arena rock at its finest. Both live performance and studio work are fused into this track, giving this song an electric feel so alive that your heart rate sky rockets and your mouth dries out while hanging open in utter awe.
'The Shape of Punk to Come,' prophetic in nature, is an action packed, 12 tracked steam engine, blasting forward into the bright distance of the ever expanding horizon, forever pushing the boundaries of musical composition and predictable genre faux pas. Never did I think that a hardcore band would rid me of my musical innocence—this genre of music is typically heavy hitting, fast punching conventional hard rock, known for its trademark vocal stylings of blood curling screams: the music your parents warned you about. However, in such a predictable cesspool of sound, the band Refused did the unthinkable—they started a coup d'état (which oddly enough, was predicted by their previous release, 'Songs to Fan the Flames of Discontent').
By not playing by the typically confining rules of the hardcore genre, they created a new sound with 'The Shape of Punk to Come,' and forever birthed a generation of innovation. This musical masterpiece will shock the masses with its unprecedented creativity, and easily earn Refused a coveted spot in the hearts of many, and in the halls of musical ingenuity and reclamation forever.
Bravo fellows, bravo.
posted by Joal Kamps at 1:37 a.m.
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