Outer Reaches News

Initially a duo formed in Berlin, FITH have since multiplied and expanded to become a revolving collective of musicians and poets spread out across a Paris/Manchester/Berlin axis. The project, currently comprised of members Dice Miller, Enir Da, Rachel Margetts, ChrIs Lmx, & Arnaud Mathé gesture towards notions of the literary salon, expanded cinema happenings, and the ancient traditions of Greek oratory and religious sermons. Driven by the spell of the spoken word, minimal percussive refrains, oneiric textures & deep melodic synths, FITH channel cinematic imagery, enigmatic narratives & spiritual frenzy.

Their self-titled debut 12' album was released via their collectively run imprint Wanda Portal in November 2016, a 'quietly alluring debut of post punk tempered avant-pop songs' (Boomkat) that laid out the project's foreboding mystique and intoxicating dream sequences with a lurking, devastating sense of purpose and (mis)direction. Other outings have included myriad solo collections of poetry, a two-track release of lurid dissonance and elegiac elevation (Signs / Cornerstone, December 2016) and an extraordinary reinterpretation of the soundtrack for cult film & iconic document of modern alienation Wanda (1971, dir. By Barbara Loden)

With Swamp, their sequel to this activity and their first appearance on Outer Reaches, FITH become a refined force, on a record where all their compelling pluralities and attributes are honed and augmented; everything dilated to delirium. The atmosphere here is one of veiled dread and psychic disturbance, a haunting and macabre psychedelia strewn with echo and dub FX, fragmentary fever dream poetics, elemental drum patterns and volatile synthetic interference. Although the collective conserve the raw crux of their earlier material their execution is, in this special instance, heightened by an intent to broaden and prolong their unique strain of intensity.

Emphatically sinister openers like Forest and Pound present sidereal sequences before building to barrelling, corrosively processed percussion, paroxysmal free jazz and a baleful, concrète-inflected score of electronics, while Swamp introduces phasing currents and a vocal evocative of a chorale from some forgotten giallo film. Elsewhere l'au delà (the beyond) presents a stunning, sombre passage to another state entirely, like some desolate new inflection on Coil's Going Up, before Bialystok shifts into a finale of transportive and meditative evaporation. Together these tracks make for an incredibly immersive and congruous conception; an utterly complete and mesmerising document.

In Swamp's various dimensions perhaps there's comparisons to be drawn with the ritualistic krautrock of Conny Plank and Holger Czukay's Les Vampyrettes, with the hallucinatory, tribal rhythm cycles of Shackleton & Anika's Behind The Glass collaboration, with the primeval drone of Jeremie Sauvage, Mathieu Tilly and Yann Gourdon's France project, with the echoic, disquieting chamber intimacies of Tuxedomoon's Pink Narcissus material and with Lucrecia Dalt's eerie free verse abstractions. But really, we've not heard anything like this before.

Discussing their own inspirations and touchstones the collective cites Franz Kafka, Dario Argento, Lucrecia Martel's La Ciénaga (The Swamp - the film the record is named after) and Yiddish ghost theatre as figures, works and artforms that were prominently drawn upon during the making of Swamp. Yet whilst their imprints could be traced by some, they resemble more of a covert presence within a nuanced whole rather than obvious aspects which moor this record to any familiar setting.

Instead, the acutely unsettling yet poignant spoken word of Miller and the mercurial nocturnes and visitations produced by Margetts, Lmx, Mathé and Da make for a record of strange, novel and striking energies. In revealing the remarkable location and period in which Swamp was recorded Margetts and Miller give a vivid indication as to how these energies are so potently invoked:

'The record was mostly recorded in a caretaker's wing of a 17th century castle in Normandy. It was early March 2018, and our first encounter with the Spring. We had no idea how everything would unfold. There was a lot of tension. Some of us felt compelled to get out the attic room where we had set up our makeshift recording studio and just walk and walk down the vast flat meadows and explore the relics of the wartime barracks, others wanted to keep recording. The outside was serene and inviting, and even though we had been cooped up indoors recording for long stretches of time, we could see from the corner of our eyes, the branches of the trees quivering; an impersonal energy blew through us and then things just happened.'

'Garage bands suddenly obtain cult status and become the antithesis of their initial appeal'

Garage Class were a group of reluctant outliers who produced one of the finest contributions to the wave of UK DIY music that emerged during the late 70s and early to mid-80s.

Hailing from Alsager in North West England and comprised of Tim Shutt (vocals) Phil Murphy (lead guitar) Clive Williams (guitar) Lynne Sanders (bass) and Phil Bourne (drums / bass on studio recordings) Garage Class originally went by the name of The Pits before their then manager Steve Hurt imposed an alias which, though unpopular within their ranks, would nevertheless reflect the shambolic art they would eventually capture on their first and only single.

As The Pits the group offered a loutish inflection on glam-punk flamboyance, evoking Johnny Thunder hitting the north and remaining disowned yet undeterred in a dreary old boozer. But as Garage Class the group distilled a roughcast and homespun primitivism that felt quintessentially their own. In this they proved too unruly to be assimilated into any wider scene. Early gigs descended into acrimony and recognition proved elusive. Yet what they managed to make back then now sounds like an extraordinary article of underdog ambition.

Released in 1984, four years after it was originally recorded, the Terminal Tokyo single is an unlikely triumph of exceptional messthetic punk. Though raw and unpolished the songs here are precariously pop-minded and indisputably anthemic. The titular A-side reveals the dry and detached drawl of Shutt aka The Subliminal Kid, a sharp, jaded and poetic voice that has some of the most iconic lines never heard in punk. Accompanied by second-hand guitars, on-the-fly handclaps and a chorus like a terrace chant this is the cult hit that never was, a heroically artless masterpiece that has all the ragged character and misfit euphoria of Swell Maps and The Buzzcocks if they were more impulsive and boisterous, and left to their own devices in the remote margins of a Cheshire town. The original B-side is here substituted for I Got Standards, a track that, until now, has somehow remained unreleased. An ideal twin to Terminal Tokyo there's the same brusque and dog-eared quality to the band's delivery, as well as the same upfront emphasis on strong hooks and insistent momentum. Yet again, Shutt is on impeccable form, perfecting an inflated, adolescent antagonism that has all the sardonic, malcontented charm of similarly 'shirty' buggers like Dan Treacy (Television Personalities), Patrik Fitzgerald and Mark Perry (Alternative TV).

Although never accepted in their own time both tracks represent a brief but inspired moment of fervent imperfection, one that epitomized the best of a diffuse and autonomous underground movement spearheaded by The Desperate Bicycles and built upon by the likes of Amos & Sara, The Homosexuals, The Cleaners From Venus and Family Fodder. Like them Garage Class were situated at a point where punk, art, humour and a sense of stubborn independence all intersected.

In the years since Terminal Tokyo has accumulated a retrospective appeal among certain trusted circles, with Jon Dale celebrating the single in his exhaustive and essential Story of UK DIY for Fact Magazine, and original copies regularly changing hands for a foolish forty quid or so. With this inaugural release on the Outer Reaches label Terminal Tokyo is not only restored for the very first time but given a worthy expansion courtesy of JD Twitch (Optimo).

Continuing his own fascination with the fringe history of UK DIY - documented on his own outstanding compilation Cease & Desist: DIY! (Cult Classics From The Post Punk Era 1978-1982) and in his re-edits of Crass Records classics for an early release on RVNG INTL - Twitch reinterprets I Got Standards as an incisive, dubwise outing that pictures Jaki Liebezeit and Muslimgauze on a bender in England's provinces, tasked with remixing the raw product of local punks. A new slant on Garage Class' crude magnificence, built to play loud on contemporary soundsystems.

Although the latter part of 1980 spelled the end for Garage Class with members moving on to other projects (Bourne fell in with The Colours Out of Time, Murphy went on to front The Regular Guys and Shutt eventually left to form Happy Refugees) this reissue attempts to give their fleeting time together and the unique single statement they made the treatment it deserves. If this means Garage Class have obtained cult status, their initial appeal remains. Just listen for yourself.