[engl] Time for another prime dose of potent, chorus-drenched anarcho-punk from one of its finest modern exponents: A Culture Of Killing return with their third album, bigger and bolder than before with a foreboding sense of deathrock gloom dialed all the way up beyond 11. Their usual array of nods are all present and correct (The Mob, Zounds, The Cure), but this time everything feels… grander? More fully realised? Impressive, given their first two albums have been hoovered up and hailed by those in the know, but maybe we should banish any lingering doubts that the mysterious Italian band might be moving beyond merely echoing the classics and closer to creating a new benchmark for the genre. Look, all of this is a very fancy way of saying that ACOK are pretty fucking great and no one else can touch ‘em right now when it comes to this sort of goth-tinged post-punk. New instrumentation, new ways of relating to each other as a band, new ways of grabbing your attention as a listener and making you want to press the record grooves into your brain and use your nerve endings as a stylus. From new wave-styled Burundi beats and furious call-and-response vocals to dubbed-out grooves, there are new influences that are more than welcome in the band’s sound, but the songs themselves are their finest thus far (‘2 Years’ and ‘The Last Train Home’ are simply magical). It says a lot about this LP that it’ll hold its own with the output of both Crass Records and 4AD; it’s a strong step forward that’ll win ‘em new fans and embolden existing ones to say things like ‘best band in the world right now’ and ‘sell your home to buy a copy if you have to’. Especially if you don’t technically own your home. You get the idea. Is there a Crass-shaped hole in your life that’s been empty since you wore out your copy of ‘Penis Envy’? An itch that only the purest of peace punk can scratch? This is the record for you. I don’t use the word ‘essential’ much but… oh, well, I’ve given the game away there, haven’t I? Get it, get it now.

[engl] Very little information exists about Italian anarcho-punks A Culture Of Killing. Like many of their forebears, they evidently eschew communication via mainstream press or corporate-owned social media. So I guess it’s on me to tell ya that their latest release is a long-overdue vinyl press of their 2017 self-titled cassette, and it absolutely slays. OK, it’s not immediately obvious as anarcho - you won’t find the teeth-rattling rhythms of early Crass or Flux Of Pink Indians on any of the eight tracks here. Sonically the territory the occupy is somewhere between the gothed-out territory marked out by The Cure and Siouxsie, and the more mournful but recognisably punk tones of The Mob (in fact, they even cover that band’s Mirror Breaks and firmly put their own stamp on it). This screams early 1980s - a time presided over by right-wing politicians, with the shadows of recession and poverty hanging ominously over proceedings… hey, that sounds familiar… Unsurprisingly for a bunch of anarchists, ACOK are about far more than the mere sound of the music. They rail against the state of the world - and sure, these songs are from 2017, but it can’t have escaped your notice that things ain’t improved too much. That’s why we need soundtracks like this, helping us make sense of the mess we’re inhabiting thanks to the shitbags in power. If that sounds simplistic, their worldview is most assuredly not. For now though, it’s clear what we have to do: ENGAGE, for fuck’s sake. And that starts right here, with a record that’s dark, entrancing, exhilarating and… ah hey, I’m going there: IMPORTANT. Press play and thrill forever. Anyone who doesn’t is a fucking cop.

[engl] ‘A Feast of Vultures’ is the title of Josy Josef’s dissection of money and corruption in India’s modern democracy; the dove is of a symbol of peace. So now we’re up to speed, it makes perfect sense that the title of these Italian peace punks’ second offering should pull from the two threads. Like their self-titled record, this was originally released on cassette before getting a vinyl from Drunken Sailor (hey, that’s this label right here!), and it certainly deserves to be heard by as many ears as possible. You’ll be able to hear the ominous rumble of anarcho forebears The Mob and Crass (circa ‘Penis Envy’, thanks to its serrated chords) in A Culture Of Killing’s addictive sonic assault, although these songs also stroll through through dark forests previously trodden by The Cure at their most morose. In fact, you’ll find yourself suckered by an emotional pull that gives these songs something lasting alongside their noticeably energetic rumble. Writing about their first record, I advised you to press play and thrill forever, adding that anyone who doesn’t is a fucking cop. This time I’ll go further: it’s never been clearer that democracy is broken. Look at how the wheels were set in motion to get actual fascism into power over the last few years; think about the resistance to structural change from those who benefit from power and oppression. Things are fucked right now. And no, a record isn’t gonna change any of that, but none of us ever believed that’s what music would do, right? The important thing is it propagates the ideas. It keeps us talking. It reminds us to believe that we’re capable of better. OK, you might not call the ethereal gloom of ‘The Toast of Despair’ a kick-ass soundtrack to all this, and you may struggle to dance to cuts like ‘Promised World’. But dammit, this is an album that’ll amplify your hope while etching glacially beautiful sounds and furious rhythms on your psyche, and if that’s not worth celebrating then I dunno what is. And just to reiterate, anyone who doesn’t get on board is a fucking cop.