Chaos Delivery Machine | website | facebook | soundcloud |
Released on May 5, 2015 via Hardline Entertainment
Ever heard of Max Stirner? He was a German political philosopher, who wrote a book espousing the virtues of anarchism called The Ego and Its Own. Back when I was young and spent my time listening to Pennywise, NOFX and Rollins Band, I lapped the book up. It was crudely written, naive and gave a big middle finger to government in all its forms. And its style and message fitted in with the angry, simplistic music I listened to. Fight the power indeed.
Now I’m older. I know that people are too power-hungry for anarchism to work. And I know the utopian ideals delivered with anger that Pennywise in particular used to feature in their material were similar to Stirner’s work: a nice idea, but, given human nature, unlikely to come to fruition. The members of Chaos Delivery Machine, on the other hand have not let advancing years dilute their anger – or their love of fast punk rock. More power to them, they have more endurance than I ever will. Perhaps they just don’t have any kids to tire them out. Their latest album, Burn Motherfucker Burn, is their second after Manifesto. It has taken eight “exhausting and life-threatening” years to produce, according to the band, who worked on it during their time off from work.
The trio have a strong Pennywise connection. Bassist Fletcher Dragge was a founding guitarist of the legendary Californian outfit, while CDM’s drummer Justin Thirsk’s brother Jason played bass for Pennywise before his death in 1996. Justin Thirsk and CDM’s guitarist Jason Page were once of 98 Mute, another of the 90s punk bands which took over the world from the west coast of the USA. But the music sounds little like the rabble-rousing surf or skateboard movie soundtracks, that either Pennywise or 98 Mute produced. With its back-to-basics production, shouty delivery and “the world is shit” attitude, it seems to take its cue from even older outfits like the Circle Jerks or Black Flag.
Not that this is a bad thing, if that is what you are after. They rip through no less than 20 songs in just over 40 minutes and at times it is breathless. They show their age with a glut of mid-tempo numbers towards the end of the album, but there are some real scorchers contained within as well.
Like the first four songs, for instance. The opener, ‘Underground Thought Process’, starts with the album title being repeated over and over, which provides an unnerving beginning. Then ‘Slipping into Darkness’ – which will no doubt prove a hit in the pit – hits the listener with its high-speed laments of alienation.
The third track, ‘Kill, Kill, Kill!’ is an angry anti-war song with a shout-along one-word chorus (guess which word?), while the fourth, ‘Tragedy of the Commons’, a left-wing thrash anthem if ever there was one, is accompanied by pummelling tom-toms in the beginning, followed by a mid-tempo breakdown which hammers home the song’s message that society should care more for the common person.
‘Dispatches from the Psych Ward C’, by far the longest song on the album, is a five-minute tirade denouncing historical events and globalisation “from Tienanmen Square … to the vast American malls” as the products or results of corrupt, evil people in power. These are not the only objects of the album’s rage. Organised religion comes in for a kicking, as does government in almost any form. Every adversary is given the wide brushstroke treatment (at least the lawyers will stay quiet) so as to incite anger in the listener but leave them a little puzzled as to who in particular they are so pissed off about. Stirner would have loved it.
There are some low points on the album, such as ‘A Statistical Insignificance’, made almost unlistenable by the screechy vocals – an attempt at humour, judging by the chat after the song finishes. It’s awful.
And ‘God of Prey’, a focused attack on religion, or more to the point, the fact that churches continue to overlook systematic child abuse, goes too far in delivering its message. We get the point through lyrics like “Sins of the Fathers can’t be washed away, can’t be moved away, can’t be taken away … from the children”. There is no need for the audio clip at the end of the song of a child being abused. Imagine having that playing in your car with your window wound down as you stop to check the surf.
So is it worth getting? If you are a fan of Pennywise or 98 Mute, definitely. Or if you have a dearth of angry punk in your collection, sure. But if you already own work by Circle Jerks, Black Flag – or some of their politically-minded 1990s descendents, such as Good Riddance – then you’ll find little new in here. But on the other hand, if you’re after a soundtrack to Stirner’s The Ego and Its Own… your wait is over.
