The Album

British punk began as a movement of self-proclaimed artists, thick with half-baked theories and aging hipsters trying to artificially stimulate a youth movement of their own. Hyperactive first-wavers Eater, however, offered a glimpse of what punk would soon become, the province of aggressive, inarticulate teenagers with a "loud-fast rules" philosophy that trumps any other consideration. The genuinely teenage Eater (ranging in age from 13 to 17) weren't interested in the Queen or White Riots; they wrote songs about daydreams, hot girls in math class, and bad-taste fantasies of prostitutes and necrophilia. All songs on their sole full-length release sound about the same, played with one stiff light-speed beat and a snotty vehemence to each track, adding up to a ridiculous classic. As fast and clumsy as the material is, there's an undeniable tunefulness at work, particularly in irresistible singalongs like "No Brains" and "Room for One," and the sprightly single "Lock It Up" even attempts some naïve vocal harmonies as they sneer at the upper classes. For critics who dismissed them as a novelty act or worse, Eater fire back with "Public Toys" ("You paid to get in/So you lose"), and "Get Raped" is an example of what teenage boys think is funny, a willfully nasty putdown of a "scabby whore" augmented with heavy breathing and cat squeals. Eater revamp a few fave raves as well and truly make them their own, speeding up and stripping down Velvet Underground and David Bowie tunes until they're unrecognizable and reworking Alice Cooper's hit "I'm Eighteen" into the age-appropriate "Fifteen." Andy Blade leads the charge with a mush-mouthed shout, and the spit flying from his lips is almost audible. Ian Woodcock's bass provides no low end whatsoever, nimbly downstroking with a comical treble tone, and guitarist Brian Chevette is all slop, thrashing out trashy fuzz and struggling to keep up with the temper tantrum beat (provided by drummer Dee Generate and an uncredited Phil Rowland). Original copies of The Album are expensive and hard to come by, but reissue collections like All of Eater and The Compleat Eater provide every recorded note from these delinquents. Don't expect coherent politics or social commentary, but for blathering speed, adolescent energy, and gleeful destructiveness, Eater can't be beat. [The Deluxe Edition of Eater comes with a bonus disc made up of early singles, alternate versions and live tracks.]