BEATPACK 商品一覧

The BEATPACK were a bunch of scruffy mid-60s obsessed miscreants predominantly - but not exclusively - from the south-east of England, and the Hastings area in particular. They peddled a ferocious punk-tinged brand of raw, primal garage R'n'B around the UK and Europe between 1987 and 1991, recording an LP - Could You Walk On Water? - an EP and a 45 for Screaming Apple records, based in Cologne, Germany, along the way. All these recordings were produced by the legendary Billy Childish and now available for the first time on CD, including a couple of other tracks they did at the time for some compilations. The BEATPACK came and went in a blur of cheap Dutch lager and purple Ohms. Far too raw and nasty for the buttoned-up London mod crowd, too hairy as well, and yet far too steeped in The MISSING LINKS and The (dutch) OUTSIDERS to ever make it with the last of the mohicans, the band were an anomaly. Less interested in slavishly recreating the sonic textures or the fashions of 1966, and more locked into a mood, a feeling, a vibe, they were naturally inclined to vandalism and wreckage. Think The PRETTY THINGS at the Blokker Festival in Holland. Think beer guzzled out of Chelsea boots. Think broken mike stands, guitar strings and tambourines, bruised hearts and cracked bones. Think chaos and confrontation. Putting the punk back into garage. By 1989, the group had somehow applied sick voodoo to the usually sane mind of Ritchie from German label Screaming Apple, causing money to be deposited in an offshore account and subsequently donated to the Billy Childish Recuperation Fund for Ailing First World War Veterans. A vomit-soaked sofa later and an EP of throbbing, strutting, snarling, harp-wailin', originals was unleashed onto an unsuspecting (and fairly uncaring) world. This was followed a year later by a 45 that saw the group mixing Gregorian monk chants with Mad Dog 20 20, Superpop instincts with throat cancer and trips to remote German castles, bedrooms, nightclubs, record stores, radio stations and service stations in a cranky ex-postal van ensued. The single hit the top spot in the Berlin charts, staying there for nineteen consecutive weeks, forcing Nirvana into second place and relegating Bryan Adams to third! The grand finale to this tragicomedy saw the release in 1991 of an album that stole its title from a discarded Aftermath off cut, its ambition from Icarus, its sales figures from King Uszniewicz & The Uszniewicztones and, sadly, its cover from an overenthusiastic house kid with graphic design aspirations and a bag of cheap Es. The end was nigh, as psychedelic habits bred isolation and retreat. Splinter projects such as the ILL-FATED MURDERERS and HAREM flickered briefly, a final change of name to ABSOLUTELY with added Hammond organ failed to fire and they were gone. Vanished into mist and myth, subject of sporadic Internet rumours. Beards and caves were suggested, as were English teaching, the FBI, Zen Buddhism, surfing, dog breeding, dogging, swingers club and Morris dancing. The truth is out there somewhere. Imagine, then, the ripples on The Scene that soon spread into waves when it was announced in 2012 that the group had been found alive and well, disinterred from their care homes and given instruments again. What foolishness would follow? What hair would remain? What sounds would pour forth? Only time would tell. Watch this space for the tale is still being told.