Black Mekon – The Lumpiness Of Demand
LP – DL
Black Mekon recently released their latest album, recorded in lockdown they say it ‘is a quick detour right back the start, recorded fast and live as a two-piece with all the consideration and skill of a flaming, wingless jet engine heading for the mountain.’ That sounded right up our street so Fighting Boredom have been listening, read what we thought below.
I got a call, I wasn’t happy man, I was trying to clean the blood off my leather jacket. I picked up and a cracked Brummie voice slurred at me, barely legible as behind it someone seemed to be smashing a room to pieces. They seemed to want Whiskey and beer and couldn’t leave the house because of the monsters. I asked for directions, ‘YOU KNOW!!!’ he shouted and the call was cut off. I did know, and a cold sweat had formed below my perfect quiff on my forehead. I had to go back. The last time I saw these dudes someone slammed into my fresh back tattoo over and over and the only way I managed not to punch them was by channeling into the music, man, that music. But I left the place half dead and it was their fault, the scarred, bandaged, masked lunatics known to those that recognise broken genius when they find it as Black Mekon.
So I shrugged into my bloodstained leather jacket fixed my wallet chain and checked my face for evidence. Left the hovel and went to see them.
I had a carrier bag of the cheapest whiskey I could find and cans of beer fit for an afternoon shouting at passers by at the park. I knocked and waited. Ignoring the crashes and what sounded like gunshots from inside. A voice shouted ‘WHAT!’ and the door opened a crack, all I could see was half a black mask and a bandaged hand. I held up the bag knowing that talk was futile. Next thing I know I’m grabbed with a grip of steel and pulled into the house. There’s two of them, those vicious bastards Black Mekon and Black Mekon. The bag is torn apart and they’re gulping down whiskey and beer. They’re talking but I can’t hear anything.
They pause from guzzling back intoxicants and shout at me, in deepest Brummie, to ‘listen, this is our new record man!’ It’s impossible not to listen to it as it’s loud enough to shake the floor let alone the windows. It’s Black Mekon and Black Mekon on drums and guitar and every fuzzed out distorting pedal in the universe and it’s wonderful. Primal rock’n’roll punk attitude distilled into songs barely around two minutes long. The sound of not caring, not wanting to do anything else and wanting nothing. Pure noisy groove and man, it’s all I hear as I collapse onto the couch and reach into the torn carrier bag.
All words by Adrian Bloxham