STRANGE NEDFELLOWS
NED'S ATOMIC DUSTBIN
Are You Normal? (Furtive/Sony/All formats)
GRUNGETROOPERS IN smelly boots and dodgy shorts, Neds ground their tyres
into the tarmac for 18 months to wind up where? To be a Carter for the
whole of Britain instead of just London? To become road junkies, going
cold turkey and disoriented when they get home? To crack up? To discover
whether this band with a Spike Milligan nonsense name could be anything
other than an endless ritual of cold floors, motorways, stages and beers?
In short, why are Neds?
Their first LP 'God Fodder' passed in a debut haze. It confirmed their
existence for the five people under 20 who hadn't seen them. Then came
'Happy', a single that confirmed there really was something beyond the
telly-murders and fringes, a record unlike any other. I remember Martin
Gilks from the Stuffies playing it to me before it came out, and I couldn't
find anything to say about it.
It was perfect, but weird: it hurt, revealing the fragile human beings
behind the Neds' mob-handed phenomenon. Spend all that time in a shiteheap
van keeping strange hours and something weird is going to happen to
you. 'Are You Normal?', despite a title that might easily be taken for
a joke, shows that 'Happy' was no fluke. Ned's are f—ed-up, and
perfectly capable of articulating it.
Side One of 'Are You Normal?' is virtually all dissection of personal
problems. If that sounds dull, you're forgetting the Neds' fury, a soundstorm
of demonic proportions. They've learnt to manage this noise in the studio
so that it's no longer an unwieldy scattershot taking out friend and
foe alike. They're now hitting their targets every time, producing stuff
of comparative subtlety like 'Who Goes First' with its mandolin moments,
and 'Legoland', a perfect stadium rock song without the pomp and anonymity.
'Swallowing Air' opens with bubbles and finishes with crosstalk and
a thin, gentle drumbeat, which book-end a song about hidden demons and,
probably, infidelities. 'Tantrum', an appeal for reason and consistency,
neatly closes the wringing first half. After six songs, you're destroyed.
Side Two is brighter and puts you back together. It's altogether more
straightforward, from the single 'Not Sleeping Around' ('Legoland' might
have been a better 45), through the suspiciously bright 'You Don't Want
To Do That' (it darkens briefly after each verse), the brief guitar
reflection of 'Fracture', to 'Intact', a final, burning sign that really
you can get through being messed up, even if it scars you.
Their songs still have little traditional songwriter's logic, preferring
instead to return to the same point before or after you expect them
to. Maybe they can't count or can't be bothered. The titles still relate
more to a word in a verse than what might approximately be called a
chorus. There's still much talk of what is apparently domestic or suicidal
violence, and only 'Suave And Suffocated', which rails against being
inspected and analysed (sorry chaps), really indicates their star status.
They're still a mess, abnormal even by rock standards.
By the sound of 'Tantrum' and 'Intact', these people have been through
some murderous, futile relationships - probably an occupational hazard
- but this isn't Phil Collins' divorce album. This is Neds venting their
frustrations as ever, but finding order through catharsis. That's why
Neds exist: order through disorder, a chaotic way of feeling better.
And somehow you catch that feeling.
At the end, when you've finished walking through their aural syrup,
you feel relieved because of the intensity. But the relief only lasts
a few moments: you've got to put it on again .. .and again. If you answer
"No" to the title, don't worry. So do Neds. (9)
Ian McCann