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SDR - No Freedom
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People
always wondered what was to become of the punks. While punk has obvious
antecedents in the pub rock, filth blues, glam schlock and bong rock
that it was ostensibly replacing, it really did seem at one point this
was gonna be it: no more getting old, no more expanding into "mature"
new areas. Punk was, supposedly, the iconoclast that was going to put
an end this ridiculous idea that living, breathing, true rock 'n' roll
could be made by guys old enough to be somebody's Dad (of course,
that's the UK version: the American version was a lot less concerned
about drawing a line in the sand.)
While punk's scruffy ideals were more successful in the minds of its
adherents than they were in the real world, it did contribute something
genuine to the ongoing story of rock in that it permanently reaffirmed
the importance of attitude...which leads us to SDR. SDR are that most
ironic of musical creations, a punk supergroup. Vocalist Shigeru Nakano
and drummer Fujimaru Nagoya are veterans of Anarchy, one of Japan's
earliest and most important punk bands. Guitarist Kouya Naitou is from
the equally legendary ARB, as well as another dirt rock supergroup,
Zi:LiE-Ya, and bassist Ebi is also from ARB, as well as iconic Japanese
rock band Unicorn.
Now, it's no secret that a pedigree like that is no guarantee of
success. But SDR's debut, No Freedom, succeeds admirably due to, you
guessed it, attitude. Nakano sounds pissed, but in control: he's a
remarkably powerful vocalist, delivering with a ragged ferocity that
only sounds unhinged. If his themes haven't changed (Anarchy's first
single was "Not Satisfied," No Freedom contains the track "Satisfied,"
and that's just the beginning) it's because HE hasn't changed, still
retaining his two-fingers-in-the-air stance (and spiky haircut) well
into his 50s. The instrumentalists match his charismatic rage with
vicious but sure footed power, keeping everything loud but graceful,
and navigating hairpin turns without breaking a sweat.
Musically speaking, SDR are straight up early 80s punk, all snot, sweat
and shouting. Nakano doesn't sing so much as rant, only occasionally
sliding into actual note hitting. Naitou can slide from acidic shards
of guitar riffage to proto doom heaviness without missing a beat, as in
the appropriately titled "コーヤ・モーヤ" ("Kouya • Mouya,") and the rhythm
section of Ebi and Nagoya channel everything from creepy, angular
no-wave ("ただ夢と語ることなかれ," i.e. "Thou Shalt Not Speak, Only Dream) to the
Dead Kennedys creep of the aforementioned "Kouya • Mouya."
No Freedom is the kind of album that has clear roots in the past, yet
could have been made at any time (or at least any time after 1977.) It
doesn't confront the question of musical progression so much as
sidestep it completely, instead breathing a strong, steady life into
instantly recognizable, no bullshit punk rock 'n' roll. All told, No
Freedom is a convincing argument for the transformative power of
permanent rebellion: the album's ten songs leap from the speakers with
a confidence that seems to suggest that nothing will ever change, but
there's nobility in the ongoing fight.
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