Gallows

Welcome to Grey Britain. Welcome to the real Britain: a land of poverty, petty violence, bad diets, bad attitudes. A land of dole queues, decay and dealers; ignorance and Jeremy Kyle DNA tests; of knives and gangs and ASBOs worn as badge of honour. Welcome to Gallows’ new state of the nation address.

Grey Britain is Gallows’ second album. It was recorded in 2008 at London’s RAK studios, alongside a 33-piece string section recorded at Air Studios and piano pieces at Abbey Road - with producer Garth ‘GGGarth’ Richardson (Rage Against The Machine, Biffy Clyro) at the controls.

A damning indictment and aural document of a country currently crippled by recession it is the most important punk rock record to come out of Britain in years: urgent, energised, angry and utterly nihilistic.

“Since our first album we’ve been out there and travelled the world,” explains frontman Frank Carter. “We’ve seen other cultures and now written a record about everything bad we’ve seen - but especially here in Britain. The racism, the ignorance, the hopelessness, the lack of ethical understanding. Grey Britain is about life in a selfish society, where greed and aggression rules, aspirations are low and a young generation is desensitized to the world around them. The album climaxes with a mass suicide of feelings, of sorts - there’s a sense that without change there can be no future.”

Gallows offer no solutions to what they see as society’s problems. Instead, with songs such as ‘London Is the Reason, ‘I Dread The Night’ and ‘Misery’ they merely want to remind people they are alive and accountable. And rather than pointing the finger at politicians, the blame is to be laid at the selfish, lazy, dishonest people who inhabit Grey Britain.

“We’ve never been about mincing words,” continues Frank. “I’ve even toned down and self-censored on this record in order to use the English language more intelligently. The violence and filth is still very much there - that’s who we are - but it’s no longer confined by a vocabulary of curse words.”

Gallows formed in Watford in 2005 from the ashes of two local bands. They arrived in 2006, tore 2007 a new arsehole and pretty much owned the best part 2008. Their 2006 debut Orchestra Of Wolves was the flaming shit parcel hurled through an open window of the music scene; the concrete poured in the shallow, stagnant pond of pretenders.

Inspired by such pioneers such as Refused, At The Drive-In and JR Ewing, Orchestra Of Wolves was an angry, ugly record for angry, ugly times. It captured the imagination of a generation of music fans bored by scenesters going through the motions. Not since the days of the Pistols/Clash/Specials had a UK band been such a thrilling and thoroughly believable product of their environments.

But it was out there - first in community centres and punk dives, and later the established venues and festivals - that Gallows earned their reputation as the fiercest band around. Live, they were an all-out, five-pronged attack, lead from the front by Frank Carter. Slight of frame and covered in eye-catching ink, Frank arrived like an amalgamated offspring of a young John Lydon and a snarling Tim Roth in Made In Britain.  Behind him, a wall of noise, flailing limbs and bare-knuckle riffs left crowds wondering whether to flee in terror or dive right on into the melee.

Only one album into their careers then and Gallows found themselves as the most successful band the fertile UK hardcore scene has ever produced. A deal with Warners in the UK and Epitaph in the US in 2007 saw the album being re-released and Gallows playing everywhere that would have them. Then came magazine covers, TV appearances, huge US tours and a collaboration with grime artist Lethal Bizzle on The Ruts’ classic tale of urban unease, ‘Staring At The Rude Bois’.

Most bands would see these new opportunities as a chance to take the money and tone down for the Top 10. But Gallows aren’t most bands. Instead with Grey Britain they went the other way: harder, heavier, louder, deeper. Bleaker. “All bands say that,” says Frank. “And it’s such a fucking cliché, but when people hear it, I think they’ll understand.”

So now Gallows return with their portrait of our country as they see it, a crumbling, concreted-over Albion without a future - and a music scene inhabited by willing clones. Their message is delivered more bluntly than ever: Stop being selfish. Stop being unoriginal. Get your lives in order. Love thy neighbour. And wake up before it’s too late.

“Why sign a major label record contract and say nothing?” says guitarist Laurent Barnard. “We put everything in this. We see other bands being told what to do by their paymasters, but we’re not one of them. This record is a kick up the arse; to us, to everyone. You can’t change the machine, but you make people open their eyes and, where necessary, change their lives.”

It is such candid declarations that make Gallows a rare commodity: a band who would rather commit career hara-kiri than be seen as sub-standard, a band who cite the likes of Discharge and Black Sabbath as influences on the new album. Because despite the plaudits and the added air miles, at the core of this quintet lies that same DIY punk band at odds with the malevolent mainstream music world whose co-opting they continually resist.

“So many rock bands today seem content with champagne and sluts and five nights at Brixton Academy,” spits Frank. “Wave after wave of self-parodies and careerists content to steal from their peers. We want to be remembered for something more. Because here’s the thing: I don’t care how many copies our album will sell; we are arguably the British music industry’s biggest mistake. Honestly. But if it helps inspire a better wave of music in its wake - if we’re able to sow some seeds - then I will consider our job done, and we’ll bow the fuck out.”

Welcome to Gallows’ grey and festering land.  
Their country needs them.

Gallows are:
Frank Carter (vocals)
Stephen Carter (guitar)
Laurent Barnard (guitar)
Stuart Gili-Ross (bass)
Lee Barratt (drums)