HELLFIRE SERMONS, oblique agit-poppers reeking of brimstone, rise from the North to tell EVERETT TRUE that, yes, they are quite political, really. Preacher shot: ALISON WITHERS
IT never fails. Every year, Liverpool band Hellfire Sermons release a new seven-inch single, and every year they receive Single of the Week (or somewhere thereabouts) from The Maker.
The new one is called "Sarasine" and it's been variously described as "music to listen to as you lovingly rip out your partner's insides", "Pixies-fixated" and "taut, naggingly intense". Which is as good a way as any of saying that it's a tightly compressed, insistent pop gem lasting just the right side of three minutes. Oh, and political in its aspirations.
"We're quite political, but not in an explicit way," explains bassist and lab technician Andy. "We've written songs which have included the poll tax, but only because it affected everyone's lives in terms of what they could and could not do."
Hellfire Sermons draw their inspiration from their surroundings. Hailing from Liverpool helps politicise them; if only because there is such a North-South divide in this country. It seems we've never had it so good whereas the reality is precisely the opposite.
"The calm before the storm, eh?" agrees Andy. "It's getting worse and worse. Every day another school will go bankrupt or another hospital will disappear or..."
So should pop be political?
"Yeah," ejaculates singer, guitarist and social worker, Colin. "Definitely!"
Once I called Hellfire Sermons the male Riot Grrrl back when the term had considerable irritation value. Now it has no value at all, but let the concept stand. The Sermons have soul. Plus, they have a slightly ramshackle quality about them, which in mirroring the angularity and venom of early Fall (whose Mark E. Smith they still admire, for sticking to his own path) and Wire, manages to retain its freshness.
"You see all these bands' adverts 'must have own transport!" says Andy. "We're definitely enthusiasm over ability!"