Why it matters

The cult of the Mekons

by Franklin Soults

The old line that runs through my head -- did I read it or write it? -- is that the Mekons aren't the only punk band who matter, they're just the only punk band left. This isn't strictly true, of course, but as far as my taxed and tired head cares to think about it, these Leeds-born misfits are the only grads from the class of '77 I know of who still keep up the game of constant self-invention, never looking back, or even stopping to tidy up the practice space.

Except "game" is the wrong word, because at their best the Mekons are capable of reminding you of the urgency of their undertaking -- of the desperate psychological necessity of rock and roll in a world that mostly offers us corn and bullshit -- even as they're tumbling over one another on stage or boasting between songs about the size of their reproductive organs. Fans of, say, Molly Hatchet or Sugar Ray might nod and say, "My group do that, too!" -- but your group aren't also capable of scaring the shit out of you. At a great Mekons show or on a great Mekons album, the steely taste that rises to your mouth can easily convey an urge to run away -- a startling idea for such a communal and fun band and one steeped in the most traditional chord patterns and rock-and-roll behaviors. It has something to do with the psychic pain to which they allude even as they provide musical succor, and the real fury they feel toward a world in which they will never find permanent shelter.

True, nothing they've done in recent years has conveyed this shocking vitality. The many Mekons shows I caught in Boston between '91 and '97 only hinted at their fierce potential -- the band seemed to be withering under the doting attention of a fan base that had long since ossified into a cult following. Somewhere in there I also lost my interest in checking out the Mekons' latest releases, accepting at face value the grim reports of friends and fellow critics as one bleak-sounding project followed another.

Yet the memory of the many wonderful Mekons shows I saw in the '80s and the string of really-good-to-awesomely-great albums from that time came back the first time I put on the new two-volume collection Hen's Teeth and Other Lost Fragments of Unpopular Culture (Touch and Go). Compiling singles, remixes, one-offs, unreleased songs, and assorted tour tapes from their full 20-year history, the hodgepodge coheres across the years in a show of edgy, makeshift culture that doesn't flag. Even though the fires no longer blaze on every album or evening out, Hen's Teeth suggests the embers may be still glowing in some corner of their old Econo Line van. (Do bands still drive Econo Lines?)

Of course, that feeling could just be an illusion created by crafty packaging. These kinds of collections usually signal stock-taking (and cash-splitting) time before the final farewells. And the best stuff does come mostly from the mid '80s to the early '90s. Volume 2, Where Were You, offers several exemplary alternate versions that fans will recognize, like a rough-hewn take of "Memphis, Egypt" (a hard-rocking anti-rock anthem from the 1989 A&M release The Mekons Rock 'N' Roll) and a demo version of "Waltz" (a haunting ballad from the 1991 Blast First import Curse of the Mekons). Volume 1, I Have Been to Heaven and Back, scores with previously unreleased songs from the same time frame, like the terrific title track, which was "pointlessly excluded from the US version [of] Mekons Rock 'N' Roll by big labelniks," or a surprisingly deft 1988 live cover of Rod Stewart's "You Wear It Well." This is a looser, punker disc than any "Best Of" release could have ever been.

Both CDs were put together by the Mekons themselves in Chicago, the new home for the group's general secretariat, Jon Langford, and ceremonial first lady, Sally Timms (and the city where I caught all those great Mekons shows in the '80s). To judge from this pair's recent side projects, the move was a personal and creative tonic. Timms's latest is Cowboy Sally's Twilight Lament for Lost Buckaroos (Bloodshot), an odd series of "lullabies" that may have been inspired by her recent stint as a host on a TNT kiddie show. (She'll be performing behind it next Thursday at the Middle East.) Although much of it is so softly sung and played that it threatens to fall in on itself, like a too-delicate soufflé, these neo-trad oddities still bear the darkness and doubt that have been following the Mekons about since their inception. One Robbie Fulks number follows a bride killer; a Handsome Family song watches a little boy drift off to the moon. Even in lullabies, there's no rest for the weary. Guess we'll all sleep when we're dead.

Sally Timms will perform with Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire at the Call on Wednesday, December 8. Call 751-CALL.