Album: Various Artists

Gimme Skelter, Buddyhead/Nettwerk

Thursday 15 January 2004 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

This may be the first website-inspired compilation, Buddyhead being an irreverent e-fanzine aimed at keeping rock'n'roll dark'n'dirty - an increasingly difficult task in these playlist-conscious times. Gimme Skelter sets out to celebrate rock's grimy underbelly whilst hoisting a contemptuous finger to the timid mainstream. Unfortunately, it's not much of an advert for supposed outsider rock, comprising mostly dull grunge bands who seem to be mates of the compiler (and in the case of The Icarus Line, the compiler's own actual band), punctuated with tracks from usual-suspect rock rebels like Iggy Pop, Wire, Mudhoney, Primal Scream and, er, Weezer. The sleeve, with its ooh-that's-so-outrageous caricature of Charlie Manson by Black Flag sleeve artist Raymond Pettibon, says it all: spiritually and sonically, Gimme Skelter is stuck around the start of the Eighties, still fighting battles whose outcomes were settled long ago, trapped by its own knee-jerk antipathy and narrow outlook, just as both punk and grunge were before it. The sole saving grace is Iggy Pop's "New York City is Beating its Chest Again", in which he lambasts modern muzak merchant Moby. "I'm sick of Moby. / Didn't he rip off some old black lady?/ What a little creep!/ Moby Dick was a work of art - what the hell happened?/ I'm sick of him/ Fatuous little bastard!" Well, yes.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in