Second city citizens haven’t much to make them smile these days. A council up to its lurid eye balls in debt; an inner city maze of tram works constantly being laid down then ripped up again that seems intent on challenging the outer circle’s infamous Spaghetti Junction; homelessness rife while developers snap up houses having to be sold cheap by the elderly going into care. No wonder we’re banging our heads against the wall. Well being? Those outside Birmingham have never had it so good.
Still, the city fathers have never been concerned about selling our rock and roll souls down the river if they could make a quick buck off it. Back in the late ‘70s-early ‘80s they helped initiate the closure of many a major music venue. Having seen how the cowsheds at Stafford Bingley Hall could bring in those larger arena-styled bands and their stage shows they initiated the National Exhibition Centre as their own credible cash cow, following it with the National Indoor Arena. However, in more recent times, with a computer system upgrade that would take at least ten years and more to begin recuperating costs on, alongside being found out for not offering females equal pay, they knew the writing was on the wall, slowly pulling out any private investments then selling the venues off to lessen the debts.
Someone ticking off the purchase ledgers must’ve noticed that Black Sabbath were big business again, and began cosying up to the former Aston lads. Some stars of fame down Broad Street, a bench over a canal, even a ballet; all have helped prop-up a tourist industry we never knew we had. Did no one see the irony of ‘Paranoid’ being performed at a Commonwealth Games that we’d been told we couldn’t afford to fund?
Back when Birmingham had a car industry that rivalled the world, Geezer Butler was writing lyrics about the pollution they wrought, the nihilistic savagery of war, and how these and other frustrations were messing with his head. Sure, drugs might also have had something to do with it, but what the hell, he hit the nail on the head.
So, all this stress, depression and concerns about well being isn’t anything new. That doesn’t make it any easier for today’s youth I’m sure, but for those of us who’ve lived too bloody long being the damaged goods we are, please excuse us if our own primary concerns become ourselves and not you. Why this ramble? How does Ozzy singing that “you’re only killing yourself to live” equate to the disenfranchised Brummie lad of today and should I find the time to care?
Frankly, until recently my answer might well have been one of indifference. But then I heard King Herd. Stupid name, I have to say, but the music was a different story. More importantly, just as I was about to switch off as some the lyrics sunk through my lug-holes I realised this wasn’t somebody just bleating about how bad their lives were; this was someone who expressed themselves in terms outside of their condition (or at least those portrayed in song). Here was the knowledge that what was being experienced was not usual, at least to themselves; that they had come to be in these conditions, and there had to be a way to escape and return to a happier state of being.
Rising in an orchestrated metallic symphony before pummelling riffs threaten to knock you out the ring, ‘Halo’ proceeds to chug in its earnest verses and burst out anthemically when they hit the choruses. It’s deep, possibly down-tuned, modern metal but with a sense of spiralling anthemic hope and a feeling in the lyrics that something that was the inner core of what singer Dave Taylor believes he was; has been stolen. That metaphorical halo torn from above his head, a veil removed and he revealed not to be as invincible as others might perceive, too perhaps.
Taylor’s joined by Tom Longworth on guitar, Ray Loverock on bass and drummer Karl Brazil, all more than capable, pulling together to make a glorious alternative rock sound. Among the individuals’ past band credits is listed Raven Vandelle, I’m not sure which of them were in that band but I recall liking them when they supported Glenn Hughes at Birmingham Town Hall and always wondered what happened to them.
‘Close To The End’ owes a little of its melody and rhythm to John Farnham hit single ‘You’re The Voice’ but I doubt that’s any concern of anyone born this millennium, who most of King Herd’s listeners are going to be, and it goes several places elsewhere while informing us there’s a date with destiny. ‘Remedy’ would appear to offset that eventuality with its bruising rock ‘n rolling, tub-thumpingly catchy jump-up-and-dance qualities.
‘The Same’ is where Seattle meets Led Zeppelin before that empire began to fall – A swarming horde of guitars attacking one minute, steadily marching eastwards with deadly intent the next. While the song might infer an imprisoned state of being, the music refuses to be held in.
Faster, more direct, at least initially, is ‘Somebody Else’ wherein the anguished passages where lines such as “I really used to love myself” don’t come across as egotistic vanity more a sense of contentment; that unreachable moment back in time when innocence was wrapped safely around you. It also features some particularly good guitar passages. In places, ‘Save Me’ comes across like some brow-beaten version of Genesis’ ‘Broadway Melody of 1974’ with a demonic Pete Townsend thrashing about on guitar, but you can bet your last fiver that’s more by chance. With lines like “I’m fighting for you, I’m fighting for me,” there’s the acknowledgment that emotional catharsis may well be “a better life going on in my head” but still we need something more.
‘Medicine’ struts on taught power chords over a rumbling bass, a mass of voices felt in places, the odd mantra, and wails vocally alongside the main song. ‘Like It Used To Be’ enters like a misplaced rough-treated ballad, Taylor’s dry-throated reciting past events then in anguished higher pitch imploring the good times with a lover be returned. By comparison with some of the other numbers ‘Another War’ might be considered less of a standout, riffing hard and shrugging in all the right places, perhaps by virtue of the ironic apathy of its title it fits. Whereas, final number ‘Only One’ starts gently on acoustic then rams it up, and if these ten tracks do indeed reveal personal experiences, this suitably delivers an exalted climax with the saviour being human life-partner rather than doctor’s proscription we must hope.
While I still abhor the pop psychology nuance that life is a journey, as some hackneyed view of Jungian psychology bolted to Joseph Campbell’s view of the hero within us all, there’s something within King Herd’s music that bustles with a sense of euphoric defiance refusing to be pulled down. It’s not a magic pill to take away the pain we’ve all felt to some degree since the coronavirus lockdown, but it may help ease it.
Whether or not this is the direction they will continue in as they move forward time may tell. As it stands, despite all the deplorable goings-on in my home town, somehow I feel proud that King Herd have made this musical statement.
- Reviewed by Paul H Birch.
- King Herd is available here.
- Official Website / Facebook / Instagram / YouTube Channel / Spotify
Track List:
- Halo
- Close To The End
- Remedy
- The Same
- Somebody Else
- Save Me
- Medicine
- Like It Used To Be
- Another War
- Only One
