Savage Republic

…Find myself in the middle of the jungle

Sound of drums it’s all over in the background…

The multi-talented bassist Bruce Licher, already founder of Neef, is also the mastermind behind one of the most disruptive musical projects to emerge from the sun-scorched outskirts of Los Angeles, first in the Golden Age of post-punk and then of industrial. The project in question contributed heavily to upending the drowsy American public, still nursing the hangover from the pacifist bender of the '60s and early '70s. The Savage Republic clan was born in the early '80s from the ashes of Africa Corps (a name they dropped, since it could easily be confused with "The Afrika Korps", a German punk band whose political ideas were hardly comparable to those of their transatlantic namesakes). The collective is driven by a politically charged rage, as well as by the visceral desire to plant their anti-capitalist flag at their first, incendiary live shows. Their stage is usually invaded by metal drums of every kind, and each member of this tribal-marching band (Philip Drucker, aka Jackson Del Rey, Mark Erskine, Bruce Licher and Jeff Long) engages in brutal percussive assaults throughout the entire show.

The firstborn of this post-punk-industrial orgy is "Tragic Figures", a genuine manifesto, mostly instrumental, released in 1982 on Independent Project Records, another of Licher's creations (which over the years would boast releases by Scenic, Bruce's side project, Autumnfair, Stereolab and Deception Bay).

The first edition, limited to 1000 copies, is packed with artwork rigorously handmade or printed by a historic Los Angeles print shop, which Licher would later come to own. But let's get back on track. It opens with "When All Else Fails", the perfect incipit: after the first five seconds, you're already catapulted into a violent voodoo dance, marked by convulsive percussion of cymbals, toms and metal pipes. The powerful basses of Licher and Long and Del Rey's raw guitar fully render the hazy, esoteric effect of the ceremony; the vocals are dark and portentous.

The inexorable entry into the jungle comes with "Attempted Coup: Madagascar": the percussive rhythm grows ever more frenzied (with demonic screams added in the background), and the minimal yet dangerous guitar riff hypnotizes the faithful, ready for their baptism by fire. The opening chimes of "The Ivory Coast" soften the mood a touch, paving the way for the distorted guitars of the most markedly dark-post-punk episode of the whole set; good old Erskine's furious drumming shows no mercy here either. The percussion-and-bass attack of "Next To Nothing" is pure sensuality and nocturnal sweat, unleashed by Del Rey's voice (here tinged with shades à la Marc Almond) as he declaims a dreamlike, visionary text about "lines drawn on paper" that "turn into vapor" and "buildings in flames, drawn with fingers".

With "Exodus", the Savage crew explore new sonic frontiers, sketching out the embryo of that desert-rock which would become the hallmark of some of their later work, "Jamahiriya Democratique et Populaire" above all.

With "Machinery", the second act of "Tragic Figures" begins. Dark, martial guitars for the album's third vocal track, which has nothing to envy the bloodier chapters of the first stretch. "Zulu Zulu" is an interlude that stands out for its electronic imprint, thanks to that spectral synth in the background. A noise-industrial intro, on the other hand, opens "Real Men", one of the angriest episodes on the album (second only to "Kill The Fascists"), in which Licher's voice grows ever more furious and accusatory, at times brushing up against outright metal territory: "The prophet is here/ And he has lies/ He's come to tell the world/ Kill him before he tries/ And keep our society clean".

Almost at the finish line comes "Flesh That Walks", a fearsome dark delirium whose incipit is pure Bauhaus. Bass and cymbals are as relentless and jittery as the lines "You have come to teach, and we have come to eat", repeated obsessively like some ancestral mantra. Then comes the aforementioned "Kill The Fascists", the most political but also the most searing interlude of this debut. The entire performance rests solely on percussion, hammered mercilessly by the whole band: this is a full-blown propitiatory dance, complete with a slogan (the title itself) screamed until the last drop of strength gives out.

The epilogue is exceptional: the funereal "Procession" is split into three sections. It begins with the tread of a ghostly march, slow and measured, which flows into a blazing circle of drums and cymbals; the final passage is the very substance of "Procession", a far-sighted yet desperate indictment of the entire system built by the "Land Of Freedom": "The crisis of our country is not caused by external forces… The danger is ever growing… The crisis is real". The distant tolling of a mournful bell and the wheezing guitars of Jackson and Bruce, howling ferociously one last time, add to the sense of final bewilderment just before the rite is completed.

This memorable tracklist was further expanded in the album's CD reissue, curated in 2002 by Licher himself for Ethan Port's Mobilization Recordings (keeping it all in the family, so to speak). The re-editing process also included the release of a box set, "Complete Studio Box Set", containing the Savage's complete works, including the later "Ceremonial" (1985), "Jamahiriya Democratique et Populaire" (1988) and "Customs" (1989), as well as all the singles, EPs and outtakes.

In this specific case, "Tragic Figures" is enriched by the addition of seven further tracks, including the morbid "On The Prowl", the dark-tinged "Film Noir", the Morricone-esque "O Adonis" steeped in Middle Eastern undertones, "Tragic Figure" (the title track, recorded later) and a live rendition of "The Ivory Coast".

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18/09/2011