The Mekons

No one expected all that much from the Mekons when they emerged in the late '70s from the same Leeds University scene that spawned Gang of Four. A bunch of sloppy, anticapitalist punks who loved country music and liquor, the Mekons expressed their collectivist ideology by making music that sounded like the work of a free-flowing, sometimes anarchic collective, complete with screeching fiddles, shouted coed singing (most often courtesy of main man Jon Langford and elastic-voiced Sally Timms), suffering ballads, arty experiments, wickedly catchy pub-rock, and a boatload of excellently shambling melodies. Their sizable catalogue includes its share of duds, but as punk bands go, the Mekons are as bighearted as the Clash, and unlike their No Future peers, they not only survived but also got better as they got older.

The Quality of Mercy Is Not Strnen is typical of their spotty early stuff. For all the wit of the title and cover (which features a monkey at a typewriter, almost typing . . . Shakespeare?), the music is noisy and brittle, an unsuccessful attempt at fusing the sparse eloquence of Wire with the rhythmic agility of Gang of Four. The Mekons (a.k.a. Devils, Rats and Piggies: A Special Message From Godzilla) is an unsuccessful stab at pop, so muddled it's hard to tell whether the band is being facetious. Nor is it easy to decode the intentions behind It Falleth Like Gentle Rain From Heaven, a collection of outtakes, leftovers, and the like that marks both the band's surrender (the Mekons had more or less disbanded at this point) and its refusal to remain silent; on the whole, though, it's a better gesture than an album.

Three years later, the Mekons became a septet and reinvented themselves by inventing alt country. Fear and Whiskey brought the band's roots-music jones to the forefront without surrendering an ounce of their punk-schooled sloppiness. Rousing cuts such as "Hard to Be Human Again," "Lost Dance," and the Hank Williams cover "Lost Highway" bridge the gap between duskily melodic and drunkenly shambolic, as the band gets soused and drives down dirt roads, fights wartime fear with joyful noise, and gives Thatcher hers. If any modern-day cowpunk troubadour gets your blood flowing, you owe it to yourself to check out Fear and Whiskey.

The Crime and Punishment EP further refines the Mekons' strategies, and includes a credible Merle Haggard cover ("Deep End"), but it's The Edge of the World that brings the band's sound into focus (and, not coincidentally, introduces Timms as an additional vocalist). Slightly South of the Border trades in Fear and Whiskey's energetic sprawl for a more traditional country sound, and Honky Tonkin' cleans things up even further, offering well-schooled playing, vigorous politicking, and boozy roots-rock. (New York offers a glimpse of this version of the band on tour, but the album's sub-bootleg sound quality makes it an unreliable document; it was later expanded into New York: On the Road, 86-87). Broadening its stylistic base, the band adds reggae and Cajun elements for So Good It Hurts, which compromises its relatively folk-rock tunefulness with some overly bookish lyrics. But The Mekons Rock 'n' Roll puts the band back on track with a series of antic, noisy sing-alongs, including Langford's rollicking "Only Darkness Has the Power" and Timms' twangy "I Am Crazy." The four-song EP F.U.N. '90 is a covers record only the Mekons could conceive, with sprightly, danceable renditions of the Brit-centric traditional song and the Band's "Makes No Difference."

With a greatly expanded lineup (fourteen players, not counting the occasional horn section) and a gutsy, wide-ranging sound, The Curse of the Mekons pre-sents an even more eclectic sound. Yet it isn't the album's stylistic sprawl that astonishes (though the mandolin obbligatos on "Wild and Blue" are impressively genuine) so much as the band's vastly increased instrumental competence, which manifests itself in everything from the raging country-rock of "The Curse" to the dub-inflected funk groove beneath "Sorcerer." Not that the performances would fool country or reggae fans, of course, but at least they get the basics right. I Love Mekons applies this broadened approach to romantic matters, although with a typically political bent; as such, "Millionaire" is a bit stilted, but "Honeymoon in Hell" and especially "All I Want" are delightful.

The Mekons' fearless forays into uncharted musical territory continue with Retreat From Memphis, which on "Our Bad Dream" offers what may be presumed to be an attempt at rap (well, there are chanted vocals and a fake funk groove, anyway). Far more pleasant and typical, however, are "Soldier" and the melancholy "Ice Rink in Berlin." Both United, a sort of self-tribute disc, and half of the Untitled EP dabble in cut-and-paste electronica, and there's even a bit of club groove snuck onto Pussy, King of the Pirates, an unlistenable performance-art piece in the shape of a very nasty children's story, performed in collaboration with author Kathy Acker.

After a few years' sabbatical in which various side and solo projects were pursued, the Mekons reconvened for the boozy Me, with the likes of "Gin & It" and "Whiskey Sex Shop." Journey to the End of the Night finds the band unexpectedly besotted by reggae grooves, which of course are not played straight but instead flavored with everything from Cajun accordion ("Neglect") to electric sitar ("Cast No Shadows"). Still, the singing is lovely, and the writing mostly lives up to its ambitions.

Then, out of nowhere, OOOH! (Out of Our Heads) proved to be their best album in forever. Taking an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink tack that seemed to fit not only post-9/11 reality but also their weathered intelligence, the album evokes everything from British folk ("Stinehead") to Arabic music and dub ("Dancing in the Head"), and featured a trio of rousing, near-perfect sing-alongs in "Thee Olde Trip to Jerusalem," "This Way Through the Fire," and "Take His Name in Vain." Punk Rock literally takes the band back to roots, rerecording material from its earliest singles and albums. Some are done straight; others are radically remade, with "Building" offered a cappella and "What" transformed into a folkie reverie. Of the handful of rarities compilations, both I Have Been to Heaven and Back: Hen's Teeth . . . Vol. 1 and Where Were You? Hen's Teeth . . . Vol. 2 are coherent, very solid collections featuring live versions of their greatest misses. (J.D. CONSIDINE/CHRISTIAN HOARD)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide