Album Review: Riot 111 - 1981! (1981/2023)

Craig Stephen on a recent Leather Jacket Records compilation / retrospective …

Riot 111 were a band created by politics, discord and violence. Their origins lay in the protests and brutality of the anti-Springbok tour movement of 1981 which divided the country in two.

The quartet left the meagre sum of two singles, as well as an appearance on a compilation album of Wellington bands. All of these records have been virtually impossible to find over the past few years, and punters have had to stump up ludicrous sums to opportunistic sellers to get their hands on that vinyl.

And yet, they left a legacy as one of the very few politically dedicated bands that have come out of New Zealand – Herbs are probably the only other I can think of but in a very different style and method. Kiwi musicians notoriously avoid any whiff of confrontation.

(Blogger’s note: I strongly disagree with this. Herbs and Riot 111 were the mere tip of a rather large political iceberg, and I may feel triggered enough to write a detailed response to Craig’s assertion at some point) …   

Thankfully, right before Christmas a collection, simply titled 1981, was issued in a limited run. It rounded up Riot 111’s entire recorded output, using newly-discovered master tapes.

There was no end of inspiration when they formed – the Springbok rugby tour occurred at a time when South Africa was isolated in sporting circles due to the apartheid system. The tour exposed the ugly, racist, redneck upper belly of New Zealand. On one side were those who wanted the tour halted in solidarity with Nelson Mandela and the ANC; on the other side those who naively believed that politics and sport never should mix – or who just didn’t want to know.

 Two of the 16 games were cancelled due to crowd interventions, another was flour-bombed by a plane (but went ahead) and there were protests at all the others.

Into this heated environment came Riot 111 to stir the pot a bit more. Were they even a musical group? Not according to “singer” Void who declared: “We’re not a band, we’re a terrorist organisation.”

So, he penned ‘1981’, released as a single with an anarcho-punk collage cover that would have infuriated those the band wanted to infuriate: Hitler kicked a rugby ball as Prime Minister Robert Muldoon applauded and the All Blacks did an unchoreographed haka. This also forms the cover of the album without any obvious tweaks, while the back of that 7” - featuring police in riot gear - is replicated on the album’s rear.

The single is an (ahem) riotous agit-punk blend of aggressive lyrics, ruthless guitar playing and tribal drumming based around the famous ‘ka mate’ haka, and fused with the South African freedom chant Amandla. It is incendiary and provocative in the context of the winter of discontent that the sporting tour wrought on the country.

The 90-second B-side ‘Go Riot’ is hilarious. There’s no actual music, just a Germanic, hectoring voice ordering a cackling Muldoon to proceed with the contentious tour, and afterwards, distract the population with a royal tour. It then cuts into some mimicking of rugby-loving redneck boofheads.

1982 was an eventful year for Riot 111. They began by supporting The Fall, and at an anti-nuclear gig in Wellington they only managed to play one song as the “move move move” chant on ‘Move To Riot’, which replicates that of the police at protests, literally moved the crowd to riot with Void forced to dodge beer bottles launched at the stage.

The text accompanying the album tells of a stoush between the band and TVNZ which refused to air the video for ‘Writing On The Wall’ from the second single and reproduces the letter from the head of entertainment in full. In it, Tom Parkinson wrote that he thought the song was poor, the musicianship below standard and “the clip is very passe, poorly made and has little merit”. Not only that but he objected to the inference of police violence. So much for freedom of speech.  

Riot 111 comprised vocalist John Void (later just Void), drummer Roger Riot (formerly Roger Allen, a mild-mannered public servant from Wellington’s northern suburbs), guitarist Nick Swan and Mark Crawford on bass. Allen describes Void as having an immense stage presence in his plastic riot helmet, actual police baton and leather trousers or kilt.

‘Move To Riot’ is the most musical of all the tracks and returns to the theme of police repression with Void shouting through a tannoy imitating a police officer breaking up a demonstration. “I am the law, I am order, you have no rights, scum!” Other “officers” abuse and mock the protesters, ie “Did you fucking swear at me?”. As Void speeds up the “move move move” order the atmosphere becomes ugly. Void as “chief officer” says: “I have a gun in the car and I’d love to blow you away” and the song ends in women screaming, glass smashing and people being bashed.

Some tracks don’t have quite the same impact, eg, ‘Escape Or Prison’ is largely an over-played drone lasting an excessive seven-and-a-half minutes. Perhaps with studio time and an empathetic producer behind them Riot 111 could have unleashed a colossal debut album that would have left an indelible mark on the New Zealand music scene.

While all eight tracks released under the band’s name are included on 1981!, I feel an opportunity has been lost. Surely, those master tapes also included alternative takes and demos of songs that were played at gigs but not actually formally released?

By 1984 Riot 111 were no more. Right-wing skinheads were gatecrashing the gigs and causing violence driving many fans away. Void became an actor in Australia.  

Their existence was brief and output meagre but they left a legacy that has never been matched in this country.

Classic Album Review: The Associates - Sulk (1982)

Craig Stephen on a Scottish indie masterclass …

In 1981 The Associates were an eclectic taste, a semi-experimental group known only to a select clique.

But by 1982 the Scottish act had become commercial property, with top 10 hits, magazine covers and appearances on Top of the Pops.

The reason for this incredible turnaround in fortunes was the album Sulk, which remains to this reviewer’s ears the best Scottish album of all time (yes, even better than the Bay City Rollers’ debut) if not one of the finest albums with geographical limitations removed.

It was adventurous, brazen, brilliantly written and musically magnificent while retaining the independent streak of the immense talents of Billy MacKenzie and Alan Rankine. The duo were The Associates although at the time it was officially a four-piece. Sulk was glamorous enough to pique the interest of the New Romantics and DJs on Radio Happy, and dark and esoteric enough for those with more eclectic tastes.

It included the poignant and emotionally charged ‘Party Fears Two’, which was good enough for the British top 10 and the spur for the success that was Sulk. It was written some years before its release and was apparently inspired by the sight of a couple of obnoxious teenage girls at a party, hence the title. It could explain the line: “The alcohol loves you while turning you blue.”

 MacKenzie, who hailed from Dundee, and Rankine, of Edinburgh, met in 1976, just as punk was about to kick off. They formed two proto bands before landing at The Associates. Their initial foray into the world was an under-produced and unauthorised version of Bowie’s ‘Boys Keep Swinging’, which certainly got them noticed. The Affectionate Punch (1980) and the semi-compilation Fourth Drawer Down (1981) followed on independent labels. They were warmly welcomed in the music press but just a little too esoteric for the general listener.

Through a complex “big brother” hierarchical record label system, The Associates found themselves a deal with Warner Brothers, and a large advance, some of which was used to house MacKenzie’s beloved whippet dogs in their own hotel room and feed them smoked salmon.

Nevertheless, they recorded in what has been described as a “drab, workmanlike space” in a grey, industrial location. Still, they were able to utilise what they had and this resulted in densely layered keyboards, echo effects and expansive reverbs. Listen closely and you’ll hear sheet metal shaking, canisters being rolled, and other studio tricks. Over the years compilations have been released containing demo versions of some of the songs that appeared on the album, and you can see what monied production techniques and ambition can do to transform tracks from raw and unpolished to soaring, epochal cacophonies.

As well as MacKenzie and Rankine, this line-up consisted of Michael Dempsey and John Murphy on bass and drums respectively. Both had been with the band for around two years, but were generally kept at the back of the bus as the duo hogged all the photo and interview opportunities that came their way. Canadian Martha Ladly, of new wave act Martha and the Muffins, was a prominent guest, supplying vocals and keyboards and her photogenic appearance ensured she shared some of the publicity.

The curious recording style extended to the track listing: ‘Party Fears Two’ and the other hit single ‘Club Country’ were kept to the second side. Listeners began their aural adventure with the three-minute instrumental ‘Arrogance Gave Him Up’. It ends with an instrumental too, which would become the single ‘18 Carat Love Affair’. These two instrumentals seem somewhat peculiar as it’s MacKenzie’s magnificent voice that is the money shot.

MacKenzie possessed a vocal range that defied description, ranging from deep to the soaring high-pitched tenor that was very individualistic. It was beguiling, enthralling and beautiful. Later, MacKenzie would develop his vocal talents, and bested Shirley Bassey when both sang ‘The Rhythm Divine’ for Yello in separate versions. Songs such as ‘Bap De La Bap’ and ‘Skipping’ are created around MacKenzie, whose ambiguous and oblique lyrics gave them a neo-gothic feel. Bravely, the band tackled ‘Gloomy Sunday’, a song with Hungarian roots and considered to contain a hex over those who sang it. That didn’t deter Billie Holiday, nor did it put off MacKenzie who gave it his own unique sound.

Several tracks engage the listener before we reach ‘Party Fears Two’, one of the most perfect songs ever, and ‘Club Country’ which seemingly condemns elitist structures if the chorus is to be read correctly: “Alive and kicking at the Country Club/ We're always sickening at the Country Club/ A drive from nowhere leaves you in the cold/ Refrigeration keeps you young I'm told.”  

They had their moment in the sun, and Sulk should’ve led to regular appearances on television and stadium gigs. But it all turned to custard rather quickly. Even before the year was out Rankine was gone, frustrated beyond belief that MacKenzie wouldn’t tour the album.

Rankine went out on his own, MacKenzie carried The Associates flag with Perhaps released in 1985. While it has some magnificent moments such as ‘Waiting For the Love Boat’ and ‘Those First Impressions’, it lacks Rankine’s instrumental genius and is for all intents and purposes a MacKenzie solo album.

Sulk, meanwhile, has been reissued several times over the years. As I write this I’m listening to the blue-coloured vinyl version. In 2016 an additional seven tracks were added to the CD version which included ‘18 Carat Love Affair’ and The Supremes’ ‘Love Hangover’ which combined became a medium-level hit in the UK and elsewhere. Most recently there was a special deluxe format with outtakes, Peel sessions, a live gig and even a disk containing five different versions of ‘Party Fears Two’. As The Associates rarely put a foot wrong, there is nothing here that is weak or profligate.