- New War first sashayed stylishly out of the shadows down in Melbourne, back in 2013. They’re a ratio of one-part American -vocalist Chris Pugmire of short-lived, messy Seattle punks Shoplifting- to three parts Aussie: drummer Steve Masterson formerly of gritty post-punks Bird Blobs, keysman Jesse Shepherd of Sir and bassist Melissa Lock who is the vital connection, bringing it all together thanks to time served in both Shoplifting and Bird Blobs.
Back then they released their debut, self-titled full-length via the very stylish ATP Recordings which of course segued into an appearance at the ATP Festival in the UK. The sinuous, guitar-free post-punk New War were packing, behind the brutally cynical political lyrics delivered with unexpectedly lyrical elegance were a perfect fit.
Of course then ATP went belly-up: no more impeccably fashionable art-rock festivals for you unappreciative louts! I’m not sure if that’s why we haven’t heard from New War in five years, but fear not, they survived the ugly fallout and they’re back. Their new record, Coin, even the title of which is invested with a sneering, anti-capitalist disdain, is out on the smaller, but equally icy-cold cool, local label, It.
When New War first appeared one of the most significant things about them was how they cut back on the snarling mess of their former bands, Shoplifting and the Blobs, much like they chopped out the guitar. Their style hasn’t progressed radically from that debut, but did it need to? Postpunk was very hip, but hardly marketable, back in 2013. Whereas every other band is packing a sophisticated, speeding, anemic, grey sound in 2018.
They don’t seem very much like a band who’d be very concerned with the commercial value of their music, though. Art and the great cause of international socialism are much more important priorities. In that regard they succeed admirably. Combining elements of The Birthday Party, Suicide and reaching back over punk to atavistic proto-punks like The Stooges, they subsume them all into something that is both very grown-up and just as primitively muscular as you can imagine, when it opens its drooling jaws and shows its fangs. As for socialism, Pugmire’s lyrics are urbane, cosmopolitan and even poetic, but they always drip bile and cynicism, never forgetting tha the man stands behind everything, casting a long shadow over everyone’s little endeavours.
In line with the whole money-making thing, how many will notice before New War slip back into those Melbourne shadows? Sophisticated post-punk and making a political stand, these are never likely to be very effective choices, but -said with a sneer- they are the right choice. Now either get with it, or get out, facist.
- Chris Cobcroft.