THE OFFICIAL JOHN EVANS WEBSITE

Miracles - Cover

Miracles - Insert

Sister Soul - Front Cover

REVIEW OF SISTER SOUL

If you feel on the verge of suicide, Pontypridd born singer John Marlon has come up with a formula likely to push you over the edge. His first single, Sister Soul is now available from most record shops on the Situation Two (Beggar’s Banquet) record label, as part of a two single and album deal with the company. Gloom, despondency and anguish abound in John’s music, heavily influenced by the Velvet Underground and (of course) Leonard Cohen. It’s a potent mixture, laudably anti-fashion and works most successfully on Sister Soul - an excellent debut single. Soundscene, Rod Liddle

Messthetics #104 - Sleeve Notes

Messthetics #104 - Front Cover

REVIEWS OF THE TAX EXILES ON MESSTHETICS #104

From SHIT FI dot COM Extract from review by Stuart Schrader V/A “Messthetics #104: DIY 77-81 South Wales 1” CD (Hyped 2 Death) V/A “Messthetics #105: DIY 77-81 Scotland 1” CD (Hyped 2 Death) "Almost all the pre-hardcore Welsh punk I’d previously heard was relatively upbeat and poppy. Even if Y Trwynau Coch’ssound mixes hooks and melody with minor chords at times, it doesn’t seem to evoke the rough lives that one associates with the coal-mining capital of Europe. Enter Tax Exiles. With a—sob, sniffle—guitar sound to make grown record collectors weep, as Kugelberg might say, their tune “(I Don’t Believe in) Miracles” from 1977 is as bleak as it gets. After four minutes of this guy’s blasé accounting of his outlook on life, it’s only the awesome, minimal guitar scrubbing that keeps me from tying a noose. I guess I’m glad I didn’t hear this tune as a fragile teenager. When Steve Ignorant of Crass sang “Do they think guitars and microphones are just fucking toys?” he captured about half the seriousness, and the potential, of this Tax Exiles tune. The bonus MP3s on the CD include another tune by Tax Exiles called “Rough in the Valley” and one by the singer solo under a pseudonym. None of these three related tunes made it to vinyl originally. If “(I Don’t Believe in) Miracles” was not enough for us to start rewriting the punk history books—first by crossing out Warsaw—certainly Tax Exiles’ aptly named “Rough in the Valley,” an unheralded Welsh anthem, deserves an entry under British proto-hardcore punk. This ‘orribly recorded, ultra-simple, extremely pissed-off blast has some of the most strained vocals and roughest guitar I’ve heard in a British punk tune prior to 1980. And it’s from 1977! Rotten, Strummer, and the rest of you lot, hang your heads in shame. “Rough in the Valley” is vicious, possibly surpassing Llygod Ffyrnig’s single (the one truly aggressive Welsh punk record). “Rough in the Valley” is the song I’ve been seeking from Wales: a desperate, vitriolic attack on everyday life (and the economy) in the region sung in English, unlike the heralded classic, the violent “National Coal Board” by the ferocious Ffyrnig. (The plaintive chorus to “Rough in the Valleys” is simply “We want out” repeated three times.) Part of the sickness that manifests itself as the compulsion to buy punk records is the belief that somewhere out there a song exists tailor-made to certain imagined specifications. Sometimes, I pick the band and then decide, before hearing it, that this is the one. Then, upon hearing said band, the truth reveals itself: this was not the one. No matter how many times I get burned, I still hold out hope. And so, in a strange refutation of Pavlov, the search continues. In this case, I had no idea which 70s band would pen the ultra-crude Welsh punker about the shittiness of trying to eke out a life in a society dominated by that wretched black rock. Somehow I knew that if such a song existed, it would exude authenticity and immediacy unlike the solidarity songs of the 80s, penned during the miner’s strike and Thatcher’s final showdown with labor (a primary order of business in the birth of neoliberalism). I had almost given up hope. But here it is. And this long-shot song, buried as a bonus MP3 on a compilation CD, is the catalyst for continued searching and increased anxiety at the possibility that other songs I’ve imagined might be out there waiting for me. Speaking of guitar sounds ‘n’ weepin’ ‘n’ all ‘at, the comp starts off with the teenaged Czechs, from Cardiff. Not quite up to the standard set by Tax Exiles but still great, this tune has an ambitious interplay between crisp drums and bass and the aforementioned guitar, inna Wire meets Gang of Four meets your nerdy little brother style (stretched to over 3 minutes). Moving on, The Sane come try to sound anything but with their weird little tune “Arnold Palmer.” Of course no one but a bunch of British intellectual types could come up with something this intentionally not-sane. Unlike US punk faux psychopaths like Mentally Ill, there was little menace to be found among the UK DIY jokesters. That’s fine, though. A bit more unhinged, and probably the one track most listeners will skip, is the ex-Puritan Guitars band Janet & Johns. In the context of the musical experimentation the era encouraged it’s neat I suppose, but from a distance, “I Was a Young Man” sounds like a low-budget soundtrack to a set-piece British drama about a medieval knave peeping through the castle wall into the princess’s dressing room. Luckily, What to Wear comes next on the CD (which, incidentally, actually flows quite well, like an album rather than a retrospective compilation)." Extract courtesy of Stuart Schraeder, Shit-Fi © 2008 The full review can be found online at SHIT FI dot COM. Or, for those that missed it, you can read the full review by clicking here.     A review of Messthetics #104 appeared in the February 24th, 2008 edition of The Sunday Times. If you missed it, please click on the page below to enlarge the image and read the review for yourself.     To read the review of Messthetics #104 in the March, 2008, edition of The Wire magazine, click on the page below to enlarge the image.     Please click on the page below to read the review of Messthetics #104 in the Western Mail, 7th March, 2008.

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