Those of you with limited disposable income – and you can include me in this group – might find yourselves frustrated at the music industry’s tendency to reissue any and everything they can get the rights to. Others amongst you – and you can also include me in this group – will welcome reissues of old and obscure titles simply because it’s always nice to be able to access old hard-to-find or out-of-print albums that have either died with a shoddy format (cassettes), material I never actually owned or to replace stuff that has disappeared from my collection over the years. With the number of albums that have gone missing, forgive me for never inviting any of you over to my house ever again, but you can also feel free to scold me for associating with too many scumbags. But I digress…
That Relapse has sunk their tentacles into re-issuing the debut album by the ever-morphing and groundbreaking Sacrilege is surprising to these ears. Not because Behind the Realms of Madness is a questionable selection of dubious quality – far from it, it’s my favourite by these Birmingham nutters – but because I didn’t think many people besides me, the band’s small circle of friends and the smaller semi-circle of my friends still allowed into my house and near my record collection gave a shit. Sacrilege isn’t a name that gets thrown around much by either today’s whippersnappers or the late 30s/early 40s set determined to let everyone know how deep their cred runs and obscure their listening habits are. This, despite being groundbreaking in their own right and with members going on to spend time in Napalm Death, Anaal Nathrakh, Benediction, Cerebral Fix, English Dogs, Cathedral, The Varukers and Morrissey(?!). Back in the mid-80s, Sacrilege was melding D-beat crust punk with thrash, hardcore and radical political thought and having it delivered from the lungs of a fiery frontwoman at a time when the vast majority of boobs at underground punk and hardcore shows were man-boobs. So, good on ya Relapse for going down this road, ‘cuz my original copy of Behind… got lifted from my place by a guy who eventually ended up in the slammer (true story). I guess this means I’m never getting it back.
Behind… starts off with “Lifeline” and all guns are blazing, even with the introductory keyboard swell that must’ve had the crusties shaking in their Doc Marten’s about the possibility of what was to come. Never mind those bollocks, as anyone who stuck around past the twenty-second mark was handsomely rewarded as the main riff is one of the crowning achievements of English extreme music. A galloping beat powers it, Lynda ‘Tam” Simpson barks like a staccato-obsessed banshee, with a noisy but killer two-pronged lead burst and near-perfect arrangement driving the thematic point of excessive materialism home. This sets the foundation for the album’s approach as crusty punk gets steamrolled into thrash with a violently chugging edge. Never was able to figure out the tuning monstrosity introducing “Shadow from Mordor” (still can’t), but the wailing solo, flashy trills and sliding accents in the main riff make it a treat to experience, whether for the first or the millionth time. Similar accolades can be laid at the feet of “The Closing Irony,” “At Death’s Door” and just about every track comprising the original recording. It’s all top notch stuff that has withstood the test of time and was surprisingly still swimming around my memory vaults. The only two issues I might whine about is the nature of Simpson’s voice and approach making some of her phrasing interchangeable and the band’s tendency to milk a riff for far too long. But that’s six and one half dozen of the other when the riffs are this frickin’ good!
The bonus material compiles a demo the band recorded in 1986 – everything here has been re-mastered by From Ashes Rise’s Brad Boatright, in case you were curious about the sound quality improvements – for their Within the Prophecy album, and two live tracks. That’s not to mention the all-new cover, the supposed expanded art and liner notes (which we haven’t seen) and two new songs in the form of “Feed,” which injects a bit of stoner doom into the proceedings, and the taut thrash of “Dig Your Own Grave” which has Tam delivering a decade’s worth of frustration and hate through her guttery larynx. At under two minutes, it’s also the shortest song they’ve ever written and proves they can get to the fucking point. I guess you can’t take the punk out of an old punk, no matter how metal they try and get.
8.5/10
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