Final Exit – Umeå – Review

Final Exit

Umeå (Desperate Fight)
by Doug Sery

In a recent edition of Lollipop, an attempt was made by a colleague to define, loosely, “punk” and “hardcore.” The conclusion was that “They both have the ultimate goals of defiance toward what society and industry consider normal and finding personal happiness in being true to oneself.” Putting aside for the moment a sudden urge to track down this author, squeeze both of his earnest little cheeks, and give him a lollipop (the candy, not the magazine), I find myself faced with two Swedish bands who, with arms clasped to chest and X’s emblazoned across the backs of their hands, proudly proclaim themselves participants in that most earnest (beginning to see a trend here?) of hardcore sub-genres… straight-edge. And I have to wonder, what the hell do Swedish bands have to be defiant towards? I mean, it’s Sweden, right? Blessed with one of the most liberal political economies in the world, and a population consisting primarily of prime physical specimens named Sven and Inga (with Ph.D.s, no less), I’m not exactly sure what it is that these particular Swedes are defying. Maybe they’re short and brunette?

Anyway, putting aside my confusion for the moment (as if), Sweden’s premier straight-edge label, Xdesperate fight recordsX, has released three albums reaffirming my belief that Sweden, of all places, is pumping out some of the best hardcore the world has to offer.

Eschewing the formulaic monotony of so many American hardcore bands, Abhinanda sweeps through their self-titled debut with a power and intensity reminiscent of so many Dischord bands, but breaks it up with old-school melodies and even an acoustic number or two. Remarkably, the lasagna (thanks, Amanda!) I ate for dinner stayed in my stomach. Given that this isn’t necessarily my normal state of affairs when confronted with anything even remotely associated with “unplugged,” this bodes well both for the CD and the lasagna (and my cleaning bill). Although the musical influences seem pretty eclectic (Rites of Spring, “Still the 17th Century”; Rancid, “Let’s March”; The Mentors… just kidding), the message itself is pretty straightforward: Be positive! Of course, this is no surprise and, while I still find it difficult to swallow the banal lyrics of most straight-edge bands, I’ll admit that their sloganeering isn’t as stomach-churning as some of the “pure lifestyle” choices promulgated by their American counterparts.

Running the gamut from fear of proto-fascism (“Fascistproof Armour”) to a call against racial intolerance (“Le Sacre de Sang”), Abhinanda manages to lay hands upon just about every societal illness known to humankind. However, while I somewhat readily admit that a steady stream of CDs with similar lyrics has somewhat desensitized the interest I may once have had in this kind of knee-jerk proselytizing, Abhinanda, both musically and lyrically, manages to rise above the formulaic circle-jerks evidenced by the vast majority of hardcore bands.

Unlike Abhinanda, I’m pretty sure labelmates Final Exit have furry palms. The odds of my ever meeting these four Swedes and having to shake hands with them is fairly remote, so I can put their sexual proclivities aside for the moment and concentrate on their music. Good for them, bad for a society obsessed with The Jerry Springer Show.

Judging from the opening tracks of Teg, Final Exit doesn’t have a clue what “eschew” means, so they jumped onto the formulaic monotony bandwagon with eyes wide open and arms clasped firmly across their chests, the little x’s on their hands shining valiantly in a land where the sun doesn’t set a good portion of the year – or is that Antarctica? Putting aside my carping for the moment (don’t worry, it won’t last for long), Final Exit holds their own with any of New York’s finest. This is old-school hardcore. Not like the heavy metal stylings of Earth Crisis or 25 Ta Life, rather, Final Exit embraces the hard and fast ethos of NYHC bands such as Youth of Today, Gorilla Biscuits, and Fit for Abuse. Like these bands, Final Exit has also adopted the cult-like belief that if one strays outside the high walls of straight-edge’s “moral beliefs,” one is going to be eaten alive by – something. Something evil, something unpure, something without an X on its hand and a chip on its shoulder. One of the great things about the Swedish accent is that I can’t actually hear lyrics like “Side by side, united we stand/I pledge allegiance to the X on my hand/Young and old, woman and man/side by side, united we stand!!” Christ, I’m almost embarrassed to review tripe like this.

Don’t get me wrong, xKid Stonex, xD-Rpx, xDave Exitx, and xSxE Guilex (even their pseudonyms are embarrassing) have a sound that could wake the dead that is Boston’s hardcore scene. They do the hard/fast things as well as, if not better than, almost any other white, middle-class, pre-pubescent HC band I know of. While the self-righteous lyrics are grating to the extreme, so is the music, and hardcore music is supposed to be grating. It’s supposed to set your teeth on edge, get your dander up, and make you shave all the hair on your head off. And, with Final Exit’s second release, Umeå, I almost did just that (actually, I’m going to California for a week and just wanted to get a few inches cut off, so as to not die of heat exhaustion while splashing merrily in the Pacific Ocean, but I did get my dander up – which the barber didn’t seem to find particularly enjoyable). Now, according to the supposed home page of these merry little skinheads, Final Exit has a new lead guitarist on this CD, Anders And, due to the “brutal murder” of Kid Stone. Actually, it sounds as though the entire original lineup may have been murdered, because Umeå is an almost entirely different album than Teg. Yes, they’re still hard, they’re still fast, but the sound is much beefier now and the lyrics show signs of an intervention having taken place. In “Better than who crew?,” they even manage to recognize the lock-step mentality of their previous incarnation, “If being in your crew means being like you, a stupid clone without a clue, a stereotype, a fuckin’ clown, you won’t be seeing me around. Swallow all the products/shit that we’re selling ‘cos you’re too stupid to think for yourself.” Sure, it’s not Nick Cave or even The Partridge Family, but they’re getting better.

Putting aside my complaints regarding the painful lyrics, musically, both of these bands know what hardcore is all about. The sound is relentless, the message clear. I almost feel sorry for the people sitting next to me on that afternoon flight to La-La land.