Invada Records is one hell of a strange record company. It signs whatever it likes, it has no rules, the owners just do what they want, that’s why FUZZ AGAINST JUNK are wedged between such diverse artistes as Julian Cope and Atavist. The Junk are a loose drabble of free-thinkers, space-warriors, rhythm-wreckers and genius-pickers. Whenever I think of them all I can see is gap-toothed acid crazed dudes freaking out by some ancient monuments with spaced-out hippie women laughing at their feet – the reality is not that different.
This is The Junk’s second album, it could be a bit of a daunting listen as the first was historic, and it was everything that every psychedelic freak-folker enthusiast could want! But yet again they deliver an even better, more interesting platter of English Beefheartian sonic soup with much improved production by a producer that could have been a student of the two Joe’s (Meek & Boyd). John Picford had managed to include the direct purity and timeless sound of a Boyd production with the squashed and compressed studio trickery of Meek; Pickford is a true musical alchemist! Lets looks at the ingredients of the Junk stew – beating the traps is Steve Dew, he’s like a crazed Elvin Jones that on the edge of messing-up big time but always holding it together. Billy Fuller plays the electric and contrabass with a style that was last heard on most Impulse recordings. The barking genius of Ian Green slips in and out of fluid psych fuzz riffing into avant-outsider breakdown. Keith Bailey knits his subtle percussion effortlessly into the mix. Paul Allen adds the essential rock backbone to the sound adding mammoth riffage when needed and then quickly slipping into prog wah-noodle. Aran Hawkins (son of the sax legend Geoff Hawkins) blows the sax like Pharaoh Saunders one minute and then in a split second can sing like a songbird on the flute. All this adds up to FUZZ AGAINST JUNK man! Enough talk about the music and the production let’s talk about the mysterious vocals. The icing on the hash cake is that there is one glorious fly in the progressive ointment, Maria Charles - This landlord’s daughter has a voice as sweet a manauka honey and adds an amazing Pictish-folk sweetness to this hairy fuzz porridge, but beware as the sweetness wears dark veil as I’m sure she casts no shadow! I think its fair to say that the Junk will find this mind-fucker of an album hard to beat…. in fact, the Junk should give up now and never record again just like The Velvets should have done! In time everyone will want to own this disc, get it while you can it’s sure to be pressed in limited quantities…don’t miss out…an old man said to me once – “when I was young, it looked so good I could have ate it – now I’m old, I wish I fuckin’ had!”