Hard Skin / Blotto –
These Are My People split 7”
(Snuffy Smiles)

South London Oi-revival heroes Hard Skin are a band who are hard not to love, working in a field that’s all too easy to hate. I’ll admit that at first I was slightly apprehensive when my flat-mate brought home one of their LPs last year. I mean, there’s THAT name for one thing, and whilst I recognise that a healthy bit of absurd, violent blather is the bread & butter of good punk rock, the band’s vision of a cop-baiting, student-punching, Millwall-supporting white working class idyll did not seem to be one I could comfortably hang with, however invigorating their riotous street punk thud may be.

Further listens though began to win me over to the abrasive, fuck-you humour of the band’s approach – a sort of good-humoured variation on blind rage that seems on some level to admit the ridiculousness of its protestations, at the same time as taking it’s dedication to it’s stated way of life very seriously indeed, if that makes any sense – and after seeing them at the 100 Club as part of a Damaged Goods showcase gig just before xmas, you can count me a fan for life.

It’s a difficult thing to explain to anyone who’s not witnessed it firsthand, the way that Hard Skin can take the most exaggerated, boorish clichés of early ‘80s British aggro-punk and reshape them into a fantastically good-humoured roar of self-affirmation, completely devoid of the kind of small-minded, paranoid exclusivity that makes oi/skinhead punk a no-go area for so many music fans. However much bile might emanate from the stage, in both the songs and bassist Fat Bob’s constant, hilarious patter, there’s a feeling that, much like the hypothetical comedian who doesn’t-discriminate-because-he-hates-everyone-equally, a Hard Skin gig is an inclusive space in which everyone, even those specifically targeted, can enjoy their incessant taunts directed at cops, tories, indie bedwetters, support bands, record labels, North Londoners, vegetarians, hippies - their basic disgust with everything in the world outside of the perfect state of being embodied by the red-blooded, South London working class male in short - freely and without obligation.

Unsavoury beliefs are often assumed to follow close behind bands like this, especially when they’re so outspoken in their oft reactionary complaints. But for all their on-stage antagonism, the strains of misogyny/racism/homophobia courted by some of Hard Skin’s more regrettable stylistic predecessors never rear their ugly heads here, and no encouragement of ‘aggro’ is ever offered without an accompanying cartoon-ish chuckle. At heart they seem like profoundly decent fellas, insofar as I’m able to judge.

Like I say, it’s hard to explain. It’s a fine line, and it all comes down to the band’s attitude really. I’m not really a big fan of the word ‘cunt’, but prior to my inaugural Hard Skin show, I’d yet to experience the true beauty of its gratuitous application. And likewise, I’m generally of the belief that in spite of endless poor management/strategy decisions on the part of their superiors, the necessity of upholding sometimes stupid legislation, and the presence of a few devious brutes within their ranks, police officers by and large attempt to do good work in very difficult circumstances and should only be given shit by the public when their individual actions demand it, etc, etc.

But nonetheless, I’d be lying if I tried to deny the sheer cathartic joy of hearing Hard Skin barrel through a call-and-response chorus of “Copper? CUNT! Copper? CUNT! Nee-nah, nee-nah – FUCKING CUNT!”

It’s the ‘nee-nah nee-nah’ bit that did it to me I think – the sheer, maniacal, steam-from-the-ears rage, but never without a laugh alongside it. It’s the sort of thing even a copper could probably appreciate (if he wasn’t too much of a cunt).

Again – it’s hard to explain. I dunno, what can I say. I fucking loved it. Listening to punk and metal, I think it can be important to remember that what people sing about doing in songs isn’t necessarily what they do in real life; rock n’ roll songs by their very nature are amped up, exaggerated, aggressive things that express a monomaniacal, hysterical point of view and well… you know where I’m going with this; Rolling Stones, Angry Samoans, Dwarves, Cannibal Corpse… blah fucking blah, you get the point.

And of course, the fact that musically speaking Hard Skin fucking demolish the place helps, knocking out a sorta precision, battle-hardened, no bullshit melodic punk rock, all three members yelling alone to every line at the top of their voices like they’re trying to break a record for how much noise three men on a stage with regular rock band equipment can possibly make. No doubt they’d laugh in the fucking face of anyone who started using words like ‘musicality’ or ‘groove’ in their presence (and rightly so), but let’s just say that Hard Skin play with a solid command of their particular art and an innate understanding of what sounds good that puts ‘em a fair few notches up the foodchain from a lot of gutbucket punk scene slop.

A prime example of all this can be found on (FINALLY, HE GETS TO THE POINT) “Deborah Services Ltd”, which opens Hard Skin’s side of this split 7”. It is surely one of their finest tracks, eulogising life in the construction industry with enough enthusiasm to almost make me head down the ‘site tomorrow morning, and calling out ‘Croydon Scaffolding’ for their apparently unfair business practices. “Six days a week / twelve hour days / working like a fucker / just to get paid / simple life – beans on toast / simple life – Sunday roast!”

It’s not big and it’s not clever, but hearing the ad-libbed yell of “YOU FUCKIN’ WANT SOME?!?” just before the chorus riff kicks in like a drunken maniac in a white van ploughing through a well-kept flower-bed really gets me through the day.

God knows, Hard Skin must feel like the end of the world is nigh when floppy-haired middle-class indie twats like me start listening to their tunes. On the other side of this record meanwhile, Japanese punks Blotto sound like they think the world is gonna end as soon as the noise from their amps fizzles out.

I know I’ve just dedicated a lot of words to writing about Hard Skin, but fuck me if Blotto’s side of this 45 isn’t EVEN BETTER. Honestly, I don’t know *anything* about these guys, but their two songs here near knocked me off my seat. Judging from their lyrical concerns (as set out on the enclosed lyrics sheet) and the fact they’re sharing vinyl with Hard Skin, I’m assuming Blotto must be punk scene stalwarts of some description, but really the sound they’ve got going here doesn’t match my go-to indicators for oi or hardcore or anarcho-punk or anything else really. Thankfully though, it ticks all the right boxes for brilliant, breathless rock n’ roll, so who cares what else we call it?

Intricate, almost classic rock/rockabilly lead guitar lets rip against bottle-rocket hyper-caffinated punk racket, every instrumentalist going straight for the cup as the vocalist chips in with a sixty-a-day, ‘microphone, what fucking microphone?’ roar… good grief. I guess it sounds kinda like the Replacements might have sounded in 1984 if they’d practiced six hours a day and never touched a drop. Add soaring, stage-dive worthy chord riffs and impassioned, ‘I live this 24-fucking-7’ vocal performance and this really is, well… a blast. The sound of a great band singing for their supper and hoping they get steak.

One of their songs seems to be bitching about right wing tendencies in the Frankfurt punk scene (fair enough, I dunno, whatever..), whilst the other is a chest-beating punk break-up song in the J. Church/Jawbreaker tradition that gets bonus points for opening with the line “you have a shabby front door”. Like the man said, when the music’s this strong, they could be singing about trimming their nasal hair and I’d still buy it.

Pound for pound, this is probably one of the strongest 7”s I’ve heard in recent memory. I dunno what availability is like outside of the bands’ respective merch tables, but if you find a copy somewhere, I recommend buying it.

Neither of these bands have a web presence as such, and neither does the record label.

Other Snuffy Smiles releases can be bought from Bombed Out distro here.

Out of date info on Blotto can be found here.

Hard Skin’s lyric sheet says “If you want to get in touch with Hard Skin – don’t bother. If we want anything we’ll get in touch with you”. If you insist though, their last.fm is here.

Labels: Blotto, Hard Skin, punk, singles reviews