CD Review: Killing Joke - Live at Hammersmith Apollo
Four Worlds USA
All Access Review: A
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| Killing Joke - Live at Hammersmith Apollo 2012 |
Jaz Coleman is lucky that his Killing Joke co-conspirators
didn’t shoot him for desertion. Late this summer, on the eve of the industrial metal/post-punk
agitators’ tour with The Cult and The Mission, Coleman went missing, leaving
the rest of Killing Joke wondering just what the hell happened to him. Then, there
were the blog posts, where Coleman is alleged to have effectively taken a flamethrower –
figuratively speaking – to both outfits in writings that can charitably be
described as “derisive” at best and downright “hostile” at worst, announcing,
without his band mates’ consent, that Killing Joke wasn’t going on the road
with those stiffs. The Cult and The Mission would have to forge ahead without
them, much to Coleman’s delight … or was it?
As it turned out, the enigmatic Coleman was alive and well,
wandering like a nomad in the Western Sahara – much like David Carradine in
“Kung Fu” – working on new solo material and a book. He has since denied
posting those comments and pledged to ferret out the imposter, although anybody expecting to ever see a triple bill
with these three acts again should probably have their heads examined. Fortunately,
Coleman, who’s done this sort of thing before, having fled to Iceland in the
early ‘80s when he thought the apocalypse was nigh, was present and accounted the night of this raging Killing Joke performance recorded for Live at Hammersmith Apollo, released in October by Four Worlds USA.
Shaking his fist at totalitarian governments, greedy banks
and an overpopulated, apathetic world that is consuming its natural resources
at an alarming rate while being seduced by the false promises of technology,
Coleman proves himself a dangerous and formidable insurrectionist, his
serrated vocals cutting through the gloom and volatility of Killing Joke’s
atmospheric synthesizers, rumbling bass and drums and coils of razor-wire
guitars with ease. Whether they are brutally beating “Wardance,” the stomping “This
World Hell,” or the racing “Asteroid” to a bloody pulp with abrasive,
bare-knuckled metallic riffs and pummeling rhythms, or urgently steering a
battered vessel of melody through the stormy, roiling seas and beautiful chaos of
the distress call “Absolute Dissent” – introduced by Coleman screaming, “I
don’t believe in a micro-chip world!” – Killing Joke is edgy and explosive on
this glorious occasion, evidently an anniversary for the band.
Throughout their 30-year history, Killing Joke has always trafficked
in sounds that are ominous and fierce, and the version of “Pssyche” on this
record, with its hard-charging riffs and desperate aggression, is as visceral
as it gets. But, Killing Joke is just getting warmed up. With its strong
undercurrent of dark energy and its prison riot chorus, “Depth Charge” is a
mean bull that sees nothing but red, circling and sizing up whatever matador is
stupid enough to challenge it. Growing more and more menacing with every riff, the
tension builds to almost unbearable intensity in “The Wait” and “Great Cull,” these
angry, gathering swarms of bounding bass lines and scything guitars cycling
around and around in some demented game of tether ball, as Killing Joke’s
original lineup of Coleman, guitar terrorist Kevin “Geordie” Walker, Martin “Youth”
Glover and Paul Ferguson make the most rancorous and uncompromising, yet
utterly compelling, racket together.
And then, just when it seems that Killing Joke is unable to
extricate itself from this wild mosh pit of sound, they turn moody and strange,
with the otherworldly, echoing dub-infused phantom “Ghosts” haunting this particular
chapel and the clean lines and synth waves of “Fresh Fever” resurrecting the
Dark Wave flourishes of ‘80s contemporaries Echo & the Bunnymen. In this
live setting, however, it’s the most combustible hits, like the swirling,
dizzying rush of “Eighties” and the sprawling “Pandemonium” that closes out
this two-disc set, that win the day, and Killing Joke’s eschewing of its more
electronic, dance-oriented material for the heated, gothic hard rock that
dominates this smoking furnace of a playlist is a wise choice.
Before introducing that final stab that kills off Live at Hammersmith Apollo, Coleman expresses
his profound love and admiration for the three men who’ve joined him on this journey through the
bleak ruins of civilization. Hopefully, they’ve forgiven him for his
unscheduled walkabout, and there will be more Killing Joke releases like 2010’s
masterstroke Absolute Dissent, from
which quite a bit of Live at Hammersmith
Apollo is drawn. Here’s to you, Jaz. Rock and roll needs your intelligence
and unpredictable personality more than ever.
- Peter Lindblad
