HARK! The herald angels sing..
Neil Taylor / NME
03.11.1984
03.11.1984
The Jesus and Mary Chain
Islington Three Johns
Heralding the arrival of an alternative musical apocalypse, The Jesus and Mary Chain picked up their instruments, kicked the amplifiers, swore at the press photographers, and began a staggering set. Thirty five minutes later, in the backroom of the dank pub, they left a dazed audience in a state of absolute torpor. Not only were they good, they were better than any other band I've seen live in the last eight years.
Start with no labels clearly defining songs, start with a distorted guitar that fed back to such a degree that half of the audience were unaware that the mechanical mesh was actually a song, start with anarchy, chaos, destruction and distortion, and what you have is The Jesus and Mary Chain. A short, sharp shock for the Establishment, a two-fingered kiss off for the last six boring years, and an anarchic question for all of yesterday's heroes: where's John Lydon now?
What is it that makes a gang out of the unholy alliance of vocalist Jim Reid and the other three members of this chain gang? From the moment that they launced into 'Paste the Floor' (sic!) it became evident that their anarchic mayhem is a marriage of the opposite and the unexpected. Jim Reid pummels out his vocals with an obsessive rigidity that suddenly converts into an ethereal drone whilst William Reid runs his fingers up and down his guitar, jumps on it, hurls it into the amplifier, and tears boredly at his t-shirt.
They're young, they're talented, they're extremely nasty, but The Jesus and Mary Chain are nothing if not disciples of a good song. Only the vaguest elements of Syd Barrett's 'Vegetable Man' remained intact, but it was performed with such energy and arrogant nonchalance that overriding the cacophonic mesh came a sense of the perfect madness so integral to Barrett's work. Drummer Bobby Gillespie junked his stool, grinned below his Raybans like an idiot, and smashed out extra force to the beat, aided by Jim attempting to put his foot through the bass drum.
It was probably half way through that the set achieved take-off. By the time that they'd reached 'Upside Down' - incidentally by-passing Vic Godard's 'Ambition' - The Jesus and Mary Chain must have been running on rocket fuel. On record (their only one!) this song is merely good: live it's energy exhibition. It's 'Anarchy in The UK' with fluff on the needle, it's The Ramones meets the Devil, it's how Ian Curtis would have sung if he could have sung.
It's been eight years now since The Sex Pistols fired their first blanks, and four since Joy Division provided us with anything even halfway original. The Jesus and Mary Chain are as anarchic as the Pistols and streets ahead of Joy Division in transforming reality into fascination and awe. They are the natural successors to the Pistols but they must avoid emulating so as not to turn into the Biz's biggest cliché. If they channel their Glaswegian arrogance into incredibly basic sound systems like tonight's, they'll remain brilliant for as long as it takes their self-destructive machine to explode.
At the moment, The Jesus and Mary Chain are the best band in the world. In six months time? Maybe.
Islington Three Johns
Heralding the arrival of an alternative musical apocalypse, The Jesus and Mary Chain picked up their instruments, kicked the amplifiers, swore at the press photographers, and began a staggering set. Thirty five minutes later, in the backroom of the dank pub, they left a dazed audience in a state of absolute torpor. Not only were they good, they were better than any other band I've seen live in the last eight years.
Start with no labels clearly defining songs, start with a distorted guitar that fed back to such a degree that half of the audience were unaware that the mechanical mesh was actually a song, start with anarchy, chaos, destruction and distortion, and what you have is The Jesus and Mary Chain. A short, sharp shock for the Establishment, a two-fingered kiss off for the last six boring years, and an anarchic question for all of yesterday's heroes: where's John Lydon now?
What is it that makes a gang out of the unholy alliance of vocalist Jim Reid and the other three members of this chain gang? From the moment that they launced into 'Paste the Floor' (sic!) it became evident that their anarchic mayhem is a marriage of the opposite and the unexpected. Jim Reid pummels out his vocals with an obsessive rigidity that suddenly converts into an ethereal drone whilst William Reid runs his fingers up and down his guitar, jumps on it, hurls it into the amplifier, and tears boredly at his t-shirt.
They're young, they're talented, they're extremely nasty, but The Jesus and Mary Chain are nothing if not disciples of a good song. Only the vaguest elements of Syd Barrett's 'Vegetable Man' remained intact, but it was performed with such energy and arrogant nonchalance that overriding the cacophonic mesh came a sense of the perfect madness so integral to Barrett's work. Drummer Bobby Gillespie junked his stool, grinned below his Raybans like an idiot, and smashed out extra force to the beat, aided by Jim attempting to put his foot through the bass drum.
It was probably half way through that the set achieved take-off. By the time that they'd reached 'Upside Down' - incidentally by-passing Vic Godard's 'Ambition' - The Jesus and Mary Chain must have been running on rocket fuel. On record (their only one!) this song is merely good: live it's energy exhibition. It's 'Anarchy in The UK' with fluff on the needle, it's The Ramones meets the Devil, it's how Ian Curtis would have sung if he could have sung.
It's been eight years now since The Sex Pistols fired their first blanks, and four since Joy Division provided us with anything even halfway original. The Jesus and Mary Chain are as anarchic as the Pistols and streets ahead of Joy Division in transforming reality into fascination and awe. They are the natural successors to the Pistols but they must avoid emulating so as not to turn into the Biz's biggest cliché. If they channel their Glaswegian arrogance into incredibly basic sound systems like tonight's, they'll remain brilliant for as long as it takes their self-destructive machine to explode.
At the moment, The Jesus and Mary Chain are the best band in the world. In six months time? Maybe.
