The Depths

In our Lord’s year of two thousand AD the term Punk held some foundation in the form of the Pop Punk and Garage bands which fared so well. Yet these genres soon morphed into forms that seemed to hold little relation to the roots of Punk: the British groups such has the Clash, The Sex Pistols and The Buzzcocks, the Detroit Godfathers; the MC5 and The Stooges, the NY groups such as The Ramones, The Voidiods and the might of The Heartbreakers,

Our Father,
Johnny Thunders,
Which art in CBGB's,
Hallowed be thy name,

With the rise of the Emo groups the term Punk suddenly seemed lost in a sea of bad hairdos and weepy song-writing about how hard is to get laid when you are a guy who wears make up. Meanwhile in the circles frequented by Indie bands the Punk mantle of aggressive simplicity was evidently present, yet the wit and raw power was seemingly absent, instead traded for radio friendly Pop about how great the 1980’s were.( Once again I am eagerly anticipating neon pink pop art Margaret Thatcher T-shirts reciting such timeless slogans as “THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SOCIETY”). The potential for British music exhibiting basic Punk principles, (e.g. Attacking NME journalist on sight) did not look favorable and to be honest still looks quite bleak.

Enter The Depths, a three piece willing to address this issue in the only way possible: an angry head-on assault of guttural screams, unearthly feedback, break neck drum beats and teeth grinding bass lines. A tattered banner of tartan safety pinned to shredded rags of red, white and blue ready to be thrust into the faces of those who should dare think that the spirit of British Punk has died and become forgotten.

“The Death of British Export” is the first full length effort from the band and has all the strength of the first Joy Division record, the first offering from The Smiths or The Stranglers; that anxiety of a message that needs to be heard. However there were no pretensions in the making of this record, it was in fact recorded over a few months out the back of a pub, the finished record being the outcome of hours upon hours of weekend jams and hard graft at live shows; self recorded, produced and packaged a true DIY effort. Their influences range from At The Drive In to Johnny Cash to Ozric Tentacles, from Drum & Bass to Jazz to Motown. Such a blend of influences eventually creates what can only be described as Rock and Roll, though not in a contrived “we-want-to-sound-like-Aerosmith” kind of way.

The record itself plays out in as a stream of controlled chaos,;
“Avin’ It” is a nihilistic salute to living life to the max with that descending dark dystopian Punk vibe, almost Syd Barrettesque at times, twisting guitar parts with a bass line and back beat straight off a Stranglers record. “Sweet Summer” swings through a turbulent sway of feedback, ghostly vocals and bright lead guitar parts reminiscent of Joy Division, complete with a melodic bass riffs, falling into a Jack White style pitch shifted guitar solo. “Met The Devil” is one of those stand out tracks, beginning with a murky fretted to open fretted bass line stewing in a wall of distortion backed by a stark bass drum beat, while the vocals kick off as if sneered down a megaphone;
“Met the devil In a pub last night…”

It holds that real “fuck you” quality of the retro Oi! Punk groups like The Angelic Upstarts. It lifts into a moody waltz of wails, hard beats and dark melodies, The Devil is swaying towards you; his head is low, so much so that you can just about see his eyes peering up at you. The apocalypse is now; it is coming unto you and The Depths are providing the backing track. Quite fitting, seeing as we are talking about a band that was banned from Camden, yes, the entire district, for bad behavior. “Recluse” is a runaway train of Noise Rock stumbling around like a Dead Kennedy’s track, falling into a low almost Cool Jazz groove that suddenly gets thrown back in to a fray of violent screeches and screams.

“Systems a Liar” shows The Depths exploring more melodic place stalled somewhere between Joy Division, the Strokes and Biffy Clyro. The same energy is present but this time it is combined with an intelligent use of layers, an attempt at a more textured sound, taking enough ideas for 10 songs, putting them all into one and pulling it off. “Innocent Lies” had the kind of knock-your-teeth-out-and-keep-dancing energy usually reserved for the likes of Turbo Negro. With regards to “Concrete head” I defy anyone to listen to this song and not instantly develop a burning desire to purchase a keg of extra strong Kentish ale, as many fireworks as they can humanly carry, a convertible rental car and then head out into the country side on a high speed burn of atrocious destruction and mind bending mayhem. Finally “Taxi” appears to be an attempt to create a song that listeners can alternate their dancing to. Not that there would be much choice, in fact it would alternate between the Sid Vicious ‘pogo’ and the ‘Hardcore dance’ (e.g. Swinging legs high and fist low). The song catches it’s breath long enough to allow the listener a quick swig of their pint before The Depths explode one last time and ring out on the tortured guitar and thundering rumble of the bass.

Punk is not dead for The Depths are alive. Listen to them and remember what that word really means.

By Dann Gaymer

- Danny Gaymer/ noisemakesenemies