Gallows - Grey Britain

Mon 11th May, 2009 in Music Reviews

When Frank Carter speaks, screams and sings, he doesn’t bullshit. With his band, Gallows, the heavily tattooed geezer has spent the past few years in a spin of magazine hype, critical acclaim and blistering live performances (sometimes with all but the drummer ending up in the crowd).

Their debut, 2006’s Orchestra of Wolves, may have placed the band’s foot in the door of international hardcore, but it’s now time for the band’s sophomore, Grey Britain, to kick the door down and trash everything in sight. This is no second album slump by any stretch of the imagination.

If there’s any doubt about the concept of Grey Britain, you’ll be swiftly be pointed in the right direction the second Carter cracks open his lips and commences his tirade. “We have no fear! We have no pity! We hate you! We hate this city!”, he sneers cynically on London is the Reason, before chanting those very words in gang vocals.

The lyrics continue in a similarly anarchic tone throughout the record, centralising around the demise of the world around us (in particular, the band’s native UK). “We are the rats and we run this town,” explains Carter in London’s opening lyrics, before commanding “If the horses don’t drink, drown them in the water” on The Vulture (Acts I & II) and “Drag your crosses through the ground!” on Death Voices (which itself alludes to the coming of the Four Horsemen). The role that Frank’s lyrics plays in Grey Britain appears to be one of a ringleader, calling to arms anyone who is revolted by the way things are. One could even argue that Grey Britain stands as the first aggressively political record of the post-Bush era. There’s certainly enough lyrically to support such a statement.

The rest of the band sound just as merciless and volatile through their instruments, without resorting entirely to down-tuned chugging, or even lapsing into the generic “aggressive white boy” guitar and drums attack that plagues so much hardcore. Everything from the duelling guitar licks of Steph Carter and Lags Barnard to Lee Barratt’s tight, militant drumming emphasises the lyrical convictions and statements.

Whilst the band is as solid as ever, it’s the little musical differences from Orchestra of Wolves that boosts the record’s soundscape. From the sinister intro of The Riverbank to the sweeping outro of Crucifucks, the album’s underbelly is spattered with subtle, haunting orchestration, piano-led interludes and sounds that could have been taken from any London backstreet (siren wails, pig squeals, muted screams and so on). They add to the album’s bleakness in a daringly theatrical fashion.

Gallows, as a band, have become less raw (which some may see as a drawback), but have become far more cohesive and focused in the process- which is, really, difficult to see as anything but beneficial. The quintet has established a persona that doesn’t give a shit about you, your government or NME’s cool list. This is an apocalyptic, relentless and uncompromising portrayal of where we stand in the world. No gimmicks, no transparency, no Obama coat-tails- just straight up hardcore punk with a new sense of purpose.

Gallows’ Grey Britain is out now.