 |
| RUBELLA BALLET 'Ballet Dance' (Xntrix)
Old fashioned new wave thrash that plagarises Siouxsie Sue unmercifully and is so blinkered that it can't even recognise the fact. The only point about eating hamburgers is that they're cheaper than steak but when the steak is the same price... (You have chicken - Ed) SOUNDS 1982 RUBELLA BALLET: Ballet Dance (Xntrix) Rubella revive the ghost of The Rezillos circa the 'Can't Stand My Baby' classic. I didn't expect this much from an X-rated band, but the Ballet have an appealing sharp edge to their claustrophobic punk thrash, a poppy surge and even a discernible funk readjustment, particularly prominent on the snappy 'Krak Trak'. Of course, they could always be taking the piss...hmmm, I like it. (Adrian Thrills - NME 1982) |
| TAPE/RECORDS - 1982 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| HEADS IN THE WRONG BAG
RUBELLA BALLET 'Ballet Bag' (Xntrix Cassette) * THE CURRENT trend to judge bands on their political stance rather than their musical abilities is making such a nonsense of criticism that this sort of third rate drivel ends up copping rave write-ups simply because the pose is right. Rubella Ballet satisfy would-be rebel writers' dubious desires to associate with Crass's limited achievements without falling into the grosser side of Crassism. The band are young, half-female (watch the credibility needle shoot up), make the right noises in interviews, and their anarcho-pacificism stops short just the right side of ineffectual. But if this is punk I'm a Dutchman. The clue to the real Ballet bag was a recent live review, with its vision of the audience sitting on the stage in a "friendly communicative setting". And then what? Did they pass the dope or the acid tabs? With all the pointers to putrid Pink Floydisms on this cassette, probably the acid. 'Spacey' bass propels side one opener 'T' into being with the soft repetition of "emotional blackmail", then a guitar crashes in with all the force of an out of control Tonka toy and the song is transformed into a flabby shadow of early Banshees before building into a relentlessly repetitive bore. This is one of the better structured numbers. There are, naturally, a couple of two chord Crass style tuneless drivel-punk workouts with a load of fourth form sloganeering and the guitarist playing in the squat down the road. As would be be manic pogargma it all sounds very stale, flat and lifeless. The only good thing on this side is the scathing attack on Honey Bane for the words, not the painful singing. And it ends true to form with 'Slant Side', where imaginative wind effects give way to a plodding dirge, again redolent of a youth club Banshees. Side two starts with 'Me', another feeble, dragging dawdle. I'm not saying everything's gotta be fast but if I want to hear this sort of snooze music I'll join the nearest funeral procession. 'Me' ends with the girls impersonating syn-drums, a hint of the discoid-zomboid 'Krak Trak' to come which sounds better with both girls singing. But not much better. 'Blues' is another disco no-no and a right bloody row to boot. It starts like Weller on mandrax in one of his worst moods and continues with snatches of radio chat /but no mention of 'No 9, No 9. . .') and squiggley-wriggley synth. The same synth takes off like Close Encounters on final track 'Exit' which turns into a rubbishy mid-tempo moan with lots of silly noises floating about and a drum solo ending. Ho hum. There's not a lot to celebrate about this cassette. It's poorly mixed, the songs are slung together, and it points in all the wrong directions. It shouldn't be too long before the synth comes more to the fore and trite lyrics become "outta sight'. Sadly it's all part of the trend, helped by Trot bigots and closet hippies, for New Punk to make all the same mistakes as last time round. At one stage I was feeling optimistic about it all, but right now I can only see a handful of bands riding the storm. In the immortal words Jimmy 'Bubbles' Skinner, "there's too many mugs about" GARRY BUSHELL (Sounds March 1982) |
| WATCH THIS DANCE DISEASE!
RUBELLA BALLET 'Ballet Bag' (XNTRIX tape) SO YOU think you've nailed punk and found intelligent pop with Haircut and One Hundred wimp-anaesthetic versions of Bobby Vee? Yeah, well the best intelligent pop was punk� Depeche Mode and the rest of the crew of synth-bureaucrats all labour without urgency of The Expelaires, The Buzzcocks or Subway Sect. The best intelligent pop goes something like this, mate. Not just a voice but a whole group: Rubella Ballet. Since seeing them and Conflict take the Moonlight and ditch/dash sludge-notions of punk as mindless thrash on bad drugs, I've been waiting for a record from Rubella Ballet, waiting to hear 'T' again and catch those vocals. 'Course, being XNTRIX, it isn't a record but a tape, a C30 9-track album corrplete with lyric book, poster, bad and re-sealable plastic envelope; hence 'Ballet Bag'. Throw it on, anyroad, anyhow, anything'll do to hear those vocals again, e'en a cassette and, yes, T' starts side one . . . Smart, but being a cassette you wait for ages, unable to jurnp the blank space 'tween spool and first track. . . and I'm still vvaiting, for those vocals. When they start � 's great! Produced by Richard Famous at Heart And Soul Studios, it's a sharp package but as an album it's nothing on the band. This here bag was recorded in November 1981 � small bands change fast and this band changes quicker. Rubella Ballet live are harder. Rubella Ballet in March 1982 have found their own strength and so when I heard 'Ballet Bag', after hearing the hard side of Rubella Ballet onstage, this sounded like other people's noise nine stops down. Now, of course, having forgotten how good the band are live, it's different; it's slacker. It's a sharp mix of The Buzzcocks. The Banshees, The Fall... an album of low skiffle and hi-hat an album of mor guitar and searing squeals, a punk pop mixture, Rubella Ballet are spiky, no ante noise-crap from garageland; they know about timing and power and know what makes a song. Rubella Ballet know when not to stray. Their songs feed off each other. 'Newz' rattles and shakes before 'Slant & Slide' hits the clatter and halts the noise with controlled guitar: At one with the plectrum the guitarist knows when to muff the songs, channel the anger and dam the open thrash flood. 'Belfast' rush-rumbles before the playground buzz of 'A Dream Of Honey', nursery rhyme pop building verse by verse on the spiral scratch. Elsewhere, 'Krak Trak', which uses both girls' voices to whine and curse while the bass blurts and the guitar chops, precedes 'Blues', a scratching dancetrack with no vocals at all, only a switching background of recorded interference which makes disconcerting reference to drugs and illness. Rubella Ballet play with clattering style, play with contradictions (as on 'Me' � all marching hi-hat and dissenting guitar) and make a nuisance of themselves. "Ballet Bag' is an album of bits-to-wait-for (The Buzzcocks used to play the same game), an album of nine songs, nine crackers ('kinnel, even The Gift' has got a couple of naff tracks) and a smattering of real classic one-liners (junk them playground marxists the Gun Ho 4 and try this right revolutionary little raver: "News At Ten! News At Ten! � not you boring fartz again"; great analysis, John). An album of intelligent pop � this one nails it. (X. MOORE New Musical Express March 1982) |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|