The Grey Wolves

Available from Cold Spring Records, P.O Box 40, Northampton, NN6 7XQ, England.

THE Grey Wolves, who have an interest in Charles Manson and have been known to wear Bin Laden T-shirts on stage, are one of the world’s leading purveyors of harsh power electronics. Their recordings - most of which have been released on cassette - are emblazoned with nationalistic insignia. These have included a white Celtic cross on a black background and the flash of action in a circle of unity, as used by Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists. This reissue of the Manchester project’s ‘Blood and Sand’ CD has been greeted with open arms, not least because its subject matter - the Gulf War and world-wide terrorism - has once again become rather poignant in the present reignited atmosphere of artificially-engineered hysteria. Announcing that ‘the mother of all battles will be fought on the astral plane’, it is as though a very noisy and vociferous flea has set out to besiege the left eardrum of George W. Bush. There are two tracks on this CD, namely ‘Desert Storm’ and ‘Gulf Breeze’, although together they last for over an hour. The first begins with a light and intrepid hammering, juxtaposed with an occasional electronic sweep of calculated interference. A tardis in slow motion. A robotic mouthing of the letter ‘O’. A synthetic chirping of America’s helicoptic birds of prey, complete with a garbled underlay of radio static. Each action interspersed with mechanical drips of watery ambience. Distorted explosions conjure up images of tornado fighters and F-16s in action. A war in which the heroes are adolescent cowards and the innocent are crushed like scorpions. The defiant warriors of Saddam versus the airborne nerds of the computerised West. The second track arrives like a crackle of firewood. It’s time to batten down the hatches, folks. The winds of Armageddon are ripping their way into the ancient heart of Babylon. No time to enjoy the sand between your toes, this stridor of discord has the Iraqi dunes turning a distinct shade of blood-red. The saw-like buzz of generated noise tends to effectively fuse the twisted utterances of media press conferences and U.S. military drones into an electronic soup. The voices disappear and soon the solitary hum is combined with the rythmic beat of a drum machine. The final five minutes contain a far more rapid exchange, this time creating a furious broth of electrostatic sound almost reminiscent of spluttering fireworks before the voices are faded in once again. A fine effort indeed. Those who survive it will have to deal with the usual radioactive consequences. Gulf War Syndrome for the warrior elite.