CRASS ARE probably the
most popular group in the country but in
relation to the general music business
they're an enigma. Their records, up to
the relative sophistication of 'Penis
Envy', had been a rush of shock tactic
anger driven by a sound so basic and
crude as to be, to these ears at least,
wondered how many wearers of
Crass-emblazoned leather jackets really
wanted nothing more than an anti-fashion
radical group to adopt. Did Crass'
communal way of life and rantings really
get through to young minds?
Phillips' Community Centre has a
small-sized hall with a high but tiny
stage looking like a hole that has been
chiselled out of the wall. On a damp
afternoon, a grouping of youthful Crass
fans, some can only be seven or eight,
begin to line the outside of the
building. Rain spatters down.
Crass equipment and various group members
arrive, the young faithful ring the van
and mild mania ensures. At least, intense
stares which display immense amounts of
with the organiser reveals the bash to be
in aid of the Welsh Republican Movement
although, despite his excited chatter and
hand-drawn notices of the 'Burn A
Cottage' kind, the scene could be
anywhere in the UK. The line of bodies
lengthens until opening time when around
500 file inside.
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