So, one day I was checking out ye olde recorde shoppe down the boulevard of my little municipality and I happened upon this very dusty 10-inch vinyl that looked pretty promising. Doesn’t that cover look metal? I thought so. Without much thought besides the promise of some new heaviness in my future, I picked it up, slapped down my five quid and walked out onto the streets feeling quite braced with my purchase. I moseyed on back to the flat and collapsed into the armchair to inspect my acquisition. I felt a twinge of regret as I regarded the back of the album.
Staring back at me were the five weirdest looking birds I’d ever seen. The leader of the band looked like a weedy young man in tweeds with a banjo-looking thing that he pulled out of a cracker-jack box. A bespectacled fishy goof was on his left with some sort of a lizard (turns out to be a newt – more later) on his shoulder and a pleasant chap holding an early edition electric guitar on his right. A menacing giant lurked over the trio with a mustache that would make all mustachioed-dictators tremble with fear next to what seems to be a wide middle-aged lady in the background. All in sepia tones too.
At this point my stomach sank as I felt I made a helluva bloomer expecting metal from this thing. So, I checked the copyright. MCMXXXV. That’s several decades before MCMLXX for sure, so there is no way that this can be metal. So, I took to the interwebs and found nothing on The Old Flesh And Blood and much less this particular EP. I stared at the cover again. I flipped to the back to stare at the weird Mötley Crüe, I contemplated walking back to the shoppe and returning this “Excrescence” (apropos, don’t you know), but something compelled me to put the ghastly record onto the turntable and give it a spin. Don’t judge a book by its cover what, what?
I was not prepared for the next 10 minutes. The light strumming of the banjolele with some tuneless singing started the EP but then I got walloped big time with a power chord. Where did that come from? Then a drum fill that would make Lars Ulrich pee his pants. I picked up the album to look at this oddity yet again. Could my instincts be right after all? In short, yes.
The drums came into a solid groove with loud power chords (apparently the guitarist just discovered this technique) when I was floored by a roar that I’ve not heard from man or beast except on the dankest and goriest death metal records. That is when the double pedal got going creating a perfect cacophony of noise. They were decades before their time as none of these musicians did another recording according to the only accounts of their existence by historian P.G. Wodehouse.
“Bunging In” was a great introduction which then led into a little bit of a emo gothic song “I’m In The Soup” which uses the old turn of phrase that meant he was in a tough situash. The banjolele features more prominently with rumbling bass arpeggios supporting some rather screechy guitars. Not my favorite on the EP, but the next one floored me.
Back when chop and stop referred to a butcher shop, these blighters recorded the first ever metalcore song as a cover of the then popular tune “Sonny Boy.” The original is a sappy song, but they reimagined this tune with Bertie’s clean vocals, Dahlia’s roaring backing vocals, and a rhythm section with 15 molar solution of syncopated rhythms injected right into their veins. Dash it, I wish you’d be able to hear it! The production was lagging, which some may think poor form, but it gave it a little bit of that Nordic black metal feel. Why have the metal historians not picked up that this thing exists?
We then continued with the “back then” avant garde offerings with tremolo guitars and machine gun blastbeats. “Newts Down The Drain” took an oddly scientific turn describing the weird mating rituals of newts in the moonlight before they were flushed down the drain. After such a beating, they decided something a little softer would be the ticket. “Very Good, Jeeves” is a polyphonic acapella song in appreciation of the band’s manager and producer, Reginald Jeeves. Apparently he is a very smart man, eats a lot of fish, and shimmers in right when he is needed. Touching, yet very cheesy ending.
After the first spin, I needed something to calm my nerves. I rang for my man Swordfish to bring me a whiskey and soda. I have haphazardly landed on the earliest example of metal in the world and my head was spinning. Was it good? By today’s standards: no it’s not good, but for a good ol’ romp through the olden days of records, it is a pretty good farce. If you find it, get it!
Rating: π2/10
Written by The Gentleman Reviewer
Tracklist
1 – Just Bunging In
2 – I’m In The Soup
3 – Sonny Boy
4 – Newts Down The Drain
5 – Very Good Jeeves
The Old Flesh and Blood was:
Bertram Wooster – banjolele and vocals
Augustus “Gussie” Spink Bottle – theramin and newt sounds
Rodrick Glossop – drums
“Aunt Dahlia” – backing growls
Tuppy Glossop – guitars
Release Date: August 29, 1935
Record Label: Old Comic Records
The above was just a test, I mean a farce. This album does not exist. Do not go to your record shoppe and request this as they will laugh you to scorn. However, for good old fashioned humor, you can’t do much better than catching up on some P.G. Wodehouse.
Now, off to work on the next “real” review. SB