We've all had good reason to scoff and question KILLING JOKE leader Jaz Coleman's sanity over the years. I mean, buggering off to Iceland because the vibes were "apocalyptic" and leaving the band to perform "Empire Song" on TOP OF THE POPS without him - what was that about? Then there was the one about him allegedly tipping raw, chopped liver over the desk of a journalist whose opinion, erm...differed. Hmmm...Hello, Earth..is there anyone there?
Thing is, though, it would be easy to write Jaz off as an (admittedly driven) rock'n'roll nutter if it wasn't for the might of at least a goodly proportion of Killing Joke's back catalogue, which swiftly reveals there's real intelligence behind the mask of madness. And some bloody dynamite music to boot.
Actually, KJ soon got into their stride. Emerging from the Notting Hill squat scene in 1979, they scaled early peaks with the claustrophobic power of their debut LP (and attendant indie hit 45s "Requiem" - still a favourite of Dave Grohl's - and "War Dance") and came close with incendiary, tribal second album "What's This For?" Cult horizons then expanded significantly in the mid-1980s with their two Berlin-recorded opuses "Night Time" and "Brighter Than A Thousand Suns", produced by future Stones knob-twiddler Chris Kimsey.
Ardent Joke supporters would concur that the band again hit paydirt as original bassist (and producer of note) Youth joined Jaz and guitarist Geordie for 1993's "Pandemonium", yet it's their supposedly barren spell from the late 80s and early 90s that actually coughed up the record that's a contender for the most powerful of all things to appear with the KJ imprint.
Listening to it now, it's nigh on impossible to convey the brutish power of KJ'S overlooked 1990 masterpiece "Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions". Suffice it to say that ten years after its' release, it still lives up to its' uncompromising power and is all the more startling when you remember that it was the belated follow-up to the proggy, plot-losing exercise that was 1988's "Outside The Gate."
Make no mistake: "Extremities..." presents one of the angriest sets of 'songs' ever commited to tape and while it may lack the dancier, more commercial leanings of the band's mid-80s output (and where would Nirvana have been without "Eighties", eh?), it's relentless, sledgehammer attack is enough to inspire awe.
Comeback single(!) "Money Is Not Our God" sets the anti-materialist tone years before the World Trade protesters even thought of taking up placards. Within seconds you're in no doubt that Coleman's convictions remained sharp, especially with the vitriol he spews into the line: "Success achieved by acquisition stinks!". To this day, it's still one of the great forgotten moments of rock catharsis.
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Original Joke drummer Paul Ferguson departed following "Outside The Gate", and in a smart move the reconvened band drafted in ex-PIL drummer Martin Atkins, whose (albeit brief) tenure behind the traps made its' mark here. In fact, he's a steamhammer show of strength throughout and never more so than on the pulverising "Age Of Greed": maybe THE yuppie/ Thatcher-baiting lyric in excelsis coupled to one of Geordie's cyclical riffs that thrashes itself virtually inside out over the course of a draining seven minutes.
The tempo rarely lets up. "Intravenous", "Extremities" and the reined-in fury of "North Of The Border" are all slabs of granite-hard democratic Joke; the boundaries of new wave and metal blurring in a way only Faith No More could challenge at the time.
When they do finally come up for air, tempo-wise, Jaz and co sound even more menacing. "Inside The Termite Mound" perfectly conveys the feverish activity of the title over eight, sprawling scum-flecked minutes, while from its' mega-sarcastic spoken word intro ("You are my inspiration for what not to be")on down, the disgust inherent in "The Beautiful Dead" is almost tangible.
As the end approaches, "Extremities..." delivers a final killer combination punch. Initially fast, "Slipstream" rides out a typically fractured riff with Geordie, bassist Raven and Atkins jostling for room, before it slows and an unusually resigned Coleman drifts into childhood reverie via cries of boys and girls playing - though don't expect Lou Reed's "The Kids" part 2. Geordie jolts him out of it, but it's an oddly moving moment in a record seething with disgust, as is the closing opus, "Kaliyuga - Struggle": a new age-y synth overture giving way to familiar Jaz musings on life's grand design.
Given that "Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions" appeared during the indie/ dance crossover heyday of 1990, there's no surprise that its' engulfing darkness cast shadows only the truly dedicated didn't rush to escape at the time, and its' longevity is (to my mind) assured such is its' unrelenting intensity.
So, while coming to it cold post-Millennium is recommended, be warned: it's one punishing, overwhelming beast. Almost a rock'n'roll equivalent of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"
Yeah...THAT heavy.
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