The runts of the Factory Records litter and their collective black sheep all rolled into one, CRAWLING CHAOS operated between the late 1970s and 1985 or thereabouts. Perhaps the ultimate in arty enigmas, they hailed from Tyneside, refused to reveal their identities and were once described in a Factory newsletter as "a cross between Status Quo and Orchestral Manoeuvres."
Oh, I forgot to mention that they also received some of the worst reviews ever flung with full-on force at a 'rock' band (term used loosely), with the NME actually going so far to suggest "anyone who needs this garbage is probably already dead" in one live review; invoking feelings of hatred even the most controversial acts out there don't seem to generate.
Consequently, your reviewer approached Boutique's re-issue of CC'S debut album "The Gas Chair" (originally released by Factory Benelux in 1982) with a mixture of trepidation and morbid fascination and many hours later he's re-emerged blinking in the daylight as confused as hell.
Because -in true Residents style - they always refused to reveal their identities (this remains to this day), a persistent rumour about Crawling Chaos is that they were actually made up of famous musicians enjoying an elaborate joke. This is apparently not the case, but certainly "The Gas Chair" is bizarre exotica, and stylistically all over the shop.
In truth, at times it's no surprise they attracted such critical venom. The bawdy, Satyricon-influenced sleeve is at best provocative and at worst downright offensive depending on your standpoint, while musically, tracks like the extremely annoying Irish folk song pastiche "Guinness", the ghastly VD-influenced electro single ("Balls the size of the Festival Hall" indeed.....is this an Ivor Biggun album or what?) and frittery pissing about like "Left Hand Path" try the patience beyond all bearing and truly DO sound like indulgent students on a Fresher's Week bender.
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At other times (such as on "Breaking Down" and the snippet "Canadian Pacific") you feel they had a decent idea and failed to see it through properly, while on other occasions - like "Harry", which is a lightweight acoustic strumathon about, er, Harry Secombe coming to tea - they're just too mind-boggling to comprehend.
However, there are times when t'Chaos's bad reputation seems unfairly meted out. "The Gas Chair" was recorded at the band's own The Pits studio in Tynemouth and was apparently edited down from lengthy, largely spontaneous sessions, and this Krautrock-style approach actually works well on the album's two, meander-y spacerock tracks "Macabre Royale" and the 11-minute "Disierta Membra", both of which are touched by the hand of Can circa "Soon Over Babaluma". On the other hand, Chaos could also turn their hand to weird, "Nuggets"-style garage pop, as both "Creamo Coyl" and the Eastern-flavoured "Arabesque" attest.
Certainly "The Gas Chair" remains one of the less classifiable (if possibly certifiable) rarities out there and, in places, you feel they were unfairly panned for their supposedly 'lo-fi' approach, which is of course now often praised in critical circles. However, like Viz Comic's immortal Brown Bottle, there are also times when you feel Crawling Chaos could be heroic, but would rather waste time getting out of it and pissing their jokes all over your shoes, so whatever pleasure you derive from this ultimately depends on your tolerance levels.
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