If there is one thing that punk taught me - beside the fact that poor hygiene can be considered a proof of one's dedication to the movement by platinum punks (to my mother's eternal despair, I must say) - it is that it's an international movement. One that we should value for it. While the random wanker on the street will probably only listen to popular mainstream American pop music and its local equivalent (because who doesn't want to be American?), the proud punk, the one who cares, who connects, who is blissfully oblivious to basic tuning and fiercely unbothered with dodgy musicianship, will fearlessly strive to discover noisy music that most people won't listen to anyway, done by fellow punks all around the planet. The knowledge that we are part of a worldwide DIY underground movement always felt quite glorious and vertiginous at the same time. Sycophantic me, I know.
But how is that possible in a world that looks so fragmented, polarized, dislocated, dangerous, rooted in prejudice, fear and high shipping costs? There is no easy answer to this but I am sure clever people who have been provided with grants from official institutions to explore this issue as part of their PHD program and publish a thesis that no actual punks are going to read will come up with something major. In the meantime here is my pissant take on the subject: punks basically share a common language. In spite of all our differences, we understand the language of punk. Because of the tremendous diversity of backgrounds, we all have specific stories to tell and there is no denying the very real impact that historical processes, to be understood materialistically, have had on all of us. Living conditions, gender, race, poverty, national origins, all define and sometimes divide us and even I am not enough of a naive zealot to believe that owning a Doom patch suddenly makes everything alright. And yet, we share a tacit common language, a common set of cultural references, shared DIY practices, a penchant for spiky hair and the habit of being chased down the streets by hard blokes on mopeds. And we all love Discharge, right?
Whenever I hear the average vapid Joe (or Olaf or Carlos or Piotr or Jean or however dull people are idiosyncratically known as in your area) claims that he listens to "a bit of everything" when what he really means is that he listens to any old crap that he is subjected to when shopping at Asda, I feel like getting my Smell Corpses tape out of my pocket and make him listen to it while patronizingly explaining that this is my version of listening to a bit of everything: the usual d-beat raw punk formula tastefully done by a punk band from Thailand. I'm sure this was what Marx meant when he claimed that workers of the world should unite.
With such honourable connections, the careful reader will have understood that Smell Corpses deal in noisy d-beat with a taste for distortion and for the Japanese style. The production is, indeed, quite raw and unpolished but it conveys a sense of urgency and direction that fits the genre. I am reminded of the early days of D-Clone and Contrast Attitude in its most primitive form (the vocals do not lie) but the band still keeps that nightmarish hypnotic vibe that characterizes the Disclose sound or indeed that of Disease. Of course I like it a lot. The last two songs are sung in the Thai language and I have to say it is the first time I hear a punk band in this language and it sounds great and completely d-beat compatible.
This tape is for the d-beat raw punk diehards, for people who like it noisy and genuine and who support the international d-beat mafia. If you are brave enough the band the Thai label Inhuman Assault released Smell Corpses' second tape Slaughter Still Continues in 2023. Trigger warning: it might harm posers.
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