Gods Gift - Pathology CD (Messthetics #218)
The early Manchester scene was anchored by The Fall, Joy Division, a few straight-ahead punks, and the more idiosyncratic denizens of the Manchester Musicians Collective. And Gods Gift out-did them all - in diffidence, darkness, pure feral energy and gleeful musical anarchy. Their successes were epic, but their failures, too, left indelible impressions. Guitarist Steve Murphy put it simply: "If things were going wrong, we'd make them go more wrong." Singer Steven Edwards once shouted out to a baffled London crowd, "Wotcha dancing for? – it's tuneless, you pillock!"
This was no pose. As much as can be said of any band in rock history, Gods Gift were the product of their day jobs: Murphy, Edwards, and at least five others who played in GG all worked "inside" at Prestwich Asylum - then the largest psychiatric hospital in the U.K. The hospital's grayness, hopelessness, and constant menace permeated not just GG’s tunes and lyrics, but their very stage-presence - Edwards in work-clothes, and Murphy playing (always!) with his back turned to some of the U.K.'s least cuddly audiences. GG recorded a fight onstage and used it in place of lyrics for their self-released first 45, "People".
Gods Gift found a champion in New Hormones' owner, Richard Boon, who booked the band and released the 12" Gods Gift EP and their landmark "Discipline" single, but unfortunately, as New Hormones' finances crumbled, Boon’s favorite track, "Clamour Club", remained unreleased - until now.
Pathology spans GG's career from 1979 to 1984, drawing material from their records, a Manchester Musicians Collective compilation, several demos and two full-length cassette albums.
12-page booklet with photos and extensive bio; 75 minutes of pounding, insistent, magnificent noise...$10.00
Dan Cairns, The Sunday Times:
"...Gods Gift are the greatest find yet for the Messthetics label... Anaesthetic, Discipline, Man of Two Men and Nico echo the pounding bass and high-pressure guitar of their exact contemporaries Joy Division, but are edgier, more terrifying, and earthed by tossed-off, matter-of-fact vocals, while Jacqueline’s Admission and Working Class Man are close relations of the Fall’s early extended pieces, with dispassionate rants drizzled over skinny riffs. It’s a treasure trove of Mancunian misery."
'Then Calm Again'
'Nico' [this is quite wicked...]