You Just Punch The Clock, Why Don't You Punch Your Boss?

I have to do a wee post about the unadulterated genius of “Plastic Surgery Disasters” by Dead Kennedys.

Inspired to listen to it again after hearing Jello Biafra’s recent albums with The Melvins, this is a real red letter album for me, probably my favourite of all time.

It is just so fucking ANGRY, dripping with sarcasm, delusional paranoia and conspiracy theory inspired hatred of the hollowed out husk of the American dream.

This is the album for me that secured Biafra’s reputation as a hugely imaginative, evocative and powerful lyricist. For me he is something approaching an American Ray Davis.

Both puncture the idiocy of their respective nations archetypes, but while Davis held some obvious affection for England, Biafra scorn is cast at the listeners like a vial of acid.

Then there’s the rest of a uniquely talented band making a sound unlike any other band before or since.

For all the vitriol, it ends with the beautifully constructed and oddly hopeful “Moon Over Marin”, which deals with the aftermath of nuclear holocaust.

Biafra mentions on his new album that he feels pressured to maintain his reputation as a firebrand social critic in the face of the changing world and his advancing years. While he need not concern himself about his continuing relevance, the reason he feels pressure is albums like this, which set an incredibly high standard at the tail end of the 70s.