Okay people, it's time we faced facts: that temperamental old sod we call society has pretty much given up the ghost and we're all heading to hell in a handcart. Fast. And with barely a moment's warning. Nature is flexing its biceps on entire nations; dictators are threatening to eradicate their 'coffee-addled' civilians; world leaders are chomping at the bit to bomb the shit out of still more countries, having apparently learned nothing from that whole Iraq thing; and here in the mighty British Isles, an unelected leader and his teet-suckling cronies are doing their God damndest to obliterate just about every institution that we hold dear, sucking the life blood out of the NHS, swinging the axe on public sector jobs and withdrawing the much-valued benefits that those without any gainful employment would look to to, you know, enable them to live. And that.
So we're fucked, basically... but it's okay. Someone will take a stand. Counterculture will throw us a bevvy of boisterous protest singers who'll write the anthems that unite a nation and send the walls of parliament tumbling to the ground. Right? Wrong. Take one glance at the alternative Zeitgeist and you'd think we'd never had it better. Apart from a smattering of King Blues singles - and they're always moaning on about something - our bands appear content to keep schtum on the subject, allowing the protest movements (UK Uncut etc.) to go it alone, as it were. Well, not so Max Raptor. With 'Portraits', their debut 8 track mini-album, these Derby-based punks mix the political with the personal in an effort to actually say something about the pretty desperate state of affairs we find ourselves in. And in so doing, they've created one of the most vital and intense records of the year.
There's no time for dicking around here, no room for chin-stroking pontification. Lead singer Will comes hurtling out of the gate spitting and snarling on the brilliantly venomous 'The King is Dead', shooting every line through with anger and resentment. It's a brutally bold statement, a stake to the heart of the bunting-and-boihaha that our precious leaders are currently trying to smother us in in an effort to throw a blanket over their own failings. In three deliciously aggressive minutes, Max Raptor decimate all of that, piercing the thinly-draped royal veil thrown up by middle England, drenching the penchant for all things monarchial in purest, visceral working class punk rock. And what's even more remarkable is that they achieve this without ever being *too* literal; the songs have a much-welcome ambiguity about them, drawing immediate inspiration from the intimately personal - subject matter includes domestic abuse and alcoholism - but transcending these boundaries and appealing to something far greater. In such a desperate socio-political climate, it's almost impossible not to read tracks such as 'Obey The Whips' as bile-soaked slices of anti-government rhetoric. It's a seething monster of a track, careering along on the crest of a steam-punk wave, all scuzzy, abrasive guitars and dirty bass lines that complement it's agreeably accusatory, discordant tone.
'Portraits' isn't all finger-pointing, however; on brilliantly punchy single 'The Great and the Good', Max Raptor make their affirmation, pledging allegiance to their cause, declaring that they'll 'wear this badge upon [their] chests', weaving their own twisted, euphoric anthem. It feels cathartic, particularly when coupled with the tellingly pointed 'conscience exists now even in the wicked', playing upon the 'us and them' mentality fostered by Cameron and co. and using it to their own advantage. And perhaps even more impressively, the band don't even need to mine the depths of socio-political hegemony to provide thrills. 'Portraits' works exceptionally well as a straightforward rock record, laden with irresistible riffs and addictive melodies. Second single 'Ghost' is a particular highlight, with a chorus that could topple mountains, while 'Carolina' and 'Beasts' demonstrate their musical diversity, venturing outside the conventions of four-to-the-floor punk 'n' roll and veering more towards groove-tinged rock, lending the record a much more rounded, and even sophisticated, feel.
For a debut album, 'Portraits' is one hell of an achievement, shooting acutely observational, politically-tinged punk songs through with the kind of roller-coaster riffs and guttural vocals that other acts spend years perfecting. In an industry dominated by crushing silence, spewing out bands with absolutely nothing to say, Max Raptor are a much-needed breath of fresh air, sounding urgent, important and above all, utterly relevant. You NEED this band in your life. Now. So get up off your ass and do something about it. You won't regret it.
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