London’s Bob Vylan's (pronounced “Villain”) mash up of punk-grime hit the spot straight away for me. A distorted guitar, distorted shouty vocals, images of gritty East London back streets, shops and boozers along with a big single digit to all the racists. They’ve got some killer lines but my favourite is “Told me to go back to my own country. Said since we arrived this place has got so ugly. But this is my fucking country and it’s never been fucking lovely”. A confrontational clenched fist of a fuck you to bigots it is called “We Live Here” and is one of the most visceral and powerful things I've heard in a while. The track features heavy riffage and a speedball of hardcore, metal, and rap that serves to catapult instantly memorable bars like this.
I feel that it is easy to write about why you don’t like the government, or against animal abuse or climate change, or to reel off well-worn lines about death/war/destruction: there’s plenty of lines to lift from other bands that have trodden this lyrical path for you. Bob Vylan is for those who are a bit braver than that, and are inviting you into their own personal hell.
The duo’s choice of a Crass T-shirt may have helped it go viral in punk-rock-cyberspace.
As one comment put it “Let’s face it, we all clicked on it coz of the t-shirt”. But once you clicked, you were happy that you did.
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