The New Blockaders, The New Movement , Rough Sex Quartet, Tighten Me Jewels, The Black Unknown - Even The Deaf Can Hear Cash Tills Ringing Mp3

When dealing with a somewhat nebulous area such as the concept of 'anti art' (a misnomer in and of itself, most ably pointed out by the oft-applied TNB slogan "even anti-art is art - that is why we reject it!"), it's sometimes difficult to spot the difference between when there is an actual attempt by any particular (anti-)artist involved to truly subvert, negate, or destroy the very foundations of expression itself, or whether it's simply someone fannying around.

This 'release' is very much a case in point, and makes its militant stance clear from the offset with it's unashamedly cynical title, equal parts social commentary, market critique, and knowing hypocrisy - after all this is from an obscure if long-standing label and in an edition of only seventeen copies. One gets the feeling that it wants to appear rather hastily and nonchalantly assembled with its junkshop cassettes and cases, and primitively reproduced 'inserts', but there's just a little too much attention paid to the details for this to ring true; manufactured rarity indeed. The notes here accompanying the release suggest the copies were "Given Away To Nihilist Posturing NE Gig Attendees..." yet a number of them found their way on to this very platform at somewhat high-end prices for such a pointedly low-end release.

As to the contents of the tape itself, the approach is maintained in the lo-fi reproduction and eclectic content, and has tellingly earned the criticism of one of the actual credited contributors. Side one kicks off with a little audio blurb on musically-connected deafness, dive bar matinee music and trumpet (?) squeaking before treating/taunting us with a very l-o-n-g blast of static (or 'Harsh Noise Wall' as it is popularly referred to these days, apparently) from the charmingly-named Rough Sex Quartet and then leaving us with what would appear to be a post-gig recording of audience chatter which outstays its welcome long before track 2 managed to. As with the s̶t̶a̶t̶i̶c̶ HNW numbness soon sets in, but instead of leading us into a relaxing background of white noise, the indistinct babble is simply tedious. Likely one of those "you had to be there" moments. Repeated listenings (really!) suggest that possibly track three is actually continuation after track two's live document, and that whoever recorded it simply neglected to press 'stop'. Finally a jaunty little piano rendition suggests we should fall in love

Side two is rather more diverse sonically, and more interesting; a lengthy noise warble from TNM being Jew Blockaded (find your own definition for that one) that descends into a little light metal bashing and chipmunkery; some rather fine rhythmic noise coupled with more metal bashing albeit heavier this time; brass jazz from the lounge of Titanic which is soon obliterated by the sound of crashing tables and chairs being strewn aside by the occupants rushing to escape the doomed vessel (though possibly not... oh, and some metal bashing!) which presents what sounds like a pig being slaughtered as an accompaniment and someone on crack cocaine picking up a guitar for the first time; more audience chatter whilst stumbling through wreckage; someone painfully inept at bell-ringing, a short homage to TG's 'Weapon Training'; a monologue on the deleterious effects of tinnitus (as a sufferer myself - thank you, Swans! - it's a bleak inclusion); and a bit more nonsense.

As a complete package it is a fascinating one, though a far from fully enjoyable one as indeed it should(n't) be, and a lot more complex than it initially appears - but is it art, or is it anti-art? It's both, and neither, and you should have known that from the very beginning. Ten out of nought. Bring on the 10 year antiversary CDr release...