MCLUSKY are a band you’d love to tell the kids about. Regardless of what you say, charade or gesticulate, definition is near impossible and probably a disservice. Fear not, for help is at hand. Force feed them ‘Mcluskyism’ and watch as their little eyes expand and their little brains melt, courtesy of a crash course in the more malevolent side of popular culture. From killing prostitutes to killing cowboys, no one does ferocious buzz fuzz, speakerphone, angst ridden, speed fuelled, berserker rock like these Welsh serial mentalists.
As collections go the 3 disc Mcluskyism is as good as a ‘Best of’ can get. Devoid of the commercialist schtick that tends to accompany such releases, it’s a retrospective collection of the finer, funnier and fucked up aspects of their cult aftermath. ‘Alan is a Cowboy killer’, ‘Lightsabre cocksucking blues’ and ‘without msg I am nothing’ are packed onto an A side ideal for potential Mcluskyites to dip their toes whilst the additional B sides and C sides (only with the 3 disc version) are considerably stacked with 44 songs (that’s 22 each) no less. The B sides do enough to justify inclusion without rivalling the A sides, the schizophrenically excellent ‘whiteliberalonwhiteliberalaction’ excepted, whilst the C sides are definitely worth a rummage in turfing up a selection of demo’s and live recordings for your delectation. It might be a little indulgent but it’s nothing but comprehensive.
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Some things just don’t make any sense purely because they don’t have to. Trying to apply logic to Mclusky is an exercise in utter futility. Where drug addiction and a fetish for a keyboard have denoted originality the past year or so, aspiring bands need look no further for inspiration and ingenuity. Like a smackhead looking to score, Mclusky are taught, fidgety, dangerously edgy and probably not opposed to violence if confronted. Prone to bouts of Frank Gallagher insight and tongue in cheek lyrics, even if ‘Nick Berry had talent in a previous life’, ‘beacon for pissed ships’ or ‘you aren't the only one who has no trousers on’ doesn’t threaten Eminem in the ‘contemporary Shakespeare’ stakes they’ll at least have you chuckling.
Tetchy, animated, wired, obnoxious and belligerently ferocious, they were a journo's Thesaurus wet dream, yet for all the blitzkrieg punk, the bile, the angst, the scathing humour and the tumultuous crunching metal driven barrages, Mclusky were a band who remained tantalisingly undiscovered.
These are their swan songs (all 56!). The power and the fury, forever and ever, Amen.
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