Labels: No Idea Records
Review by: Martin Brown
Planes are one of those bands kids with black hair and ear plugs you see at hc shows will be sporting the t-shirt of, and their past affiliations with Deep Elm, etc. have I believe led them to be labelled as a package where the name purveys an image of trendy sub-screamo. There are other numerous reasons for this, the overriding one being the hideous apathy so many people in the so-called ‘scene’ seem to get off on so much (or not as the case may be, cos enthusiasm isn’t cool anymore). When I saw the band, whilst it was easily one of the 3 greatest shows I have ever been to, there were a startling amount of people there who were just there to be seen and who didn’t really care who played. I know some good friends of mine who love Planes couldn’t get in that night, and it’s pretty sick.
Planes couldn’t sit in that category of bands if they tried. Starting as a fantastic indie-punk rock band, they have evolved over time to a long-haired, dirty, thrashy punk foursome who state their principle aim in playing is to have fun and make kids dance around and have a good time. Along the way they have recorded some of my all time favourite records, and with this new EP, their first non-covers material in over a year, they have ratcheted the gauge up even further into their now trademark wall of scream-laden, melodic, heavy rock noise.
Imagine you were assigned to record the ultimate fuck you rock song. Even if a machine, Willy Wonka golden-ticket-finding stylee was created to attempt to generate such a track, I doubt it would come up with as spectacular a result as the first song on this EP. Screeching feedback for a full fucking twenty-five seconds builds, before the crackling, knarly, and unmistakable voice of Uncle Bill S. Burroughs, the greatest post-war literary enigma and the voice of the disaffected is heard reading: ‘We take a bunch of long haired boys fucking each other, while they puff reefers, spit cocaine on the bible and wipe their asses with the Old Glory!’ Immediately the most evil, driving, tribal introduction begins, before giving way to the fastest I’ve ever heard Planes. Gared’s melodic shouting and Matt’s harpee-like screams rage over out-and-out, balls-to-the-wall fucking rock music, and a song resplendent with crushing breakdowns and searing lyrics (e.g. ‘Burn the billboards! They’ve broke our embrace and gouged out our eyes!!!’). And the best bit? It’s called ‘Thunder in the Night Forever! (We Ride to Fight)’!!!!!!!
Following this is a re-recording of War Child compilation track ‘Earning Ire’, now beefed up with more urgent, driving guitar work, harsher screaming, etc. – it’s just generally a far superior package to its previous incarnation. Ending the EP is another superbly titled track, ‘Bastards’, with even better lyrics. The record ends with the repeated screaming of ‘We sleep in the seconds between a swing and a hit!’
Very rarely does a band come along that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and tingle and can make you walk through the streets thinking you’re invincible. When they do come, relish them as much as you can. Buy this record.