There was a period of time where I was just about exclusively listening to UK hardcore from the early to mid-'80s. I'm still not sure entirely how that happened. I think it was because British bands like The Business and Subhumans were meaner and more abrasive sounding than the American skate punk that was my reference point for punk (and all music really) during that period, and I just needed something that matched the rather extreme levels of anxiety and anxiety I experienced as youth. NOFX and Bad Religion were just a damp rag on a grease fire. They were just not cutting it at all. I've obviously mellowed out since then and expanded my tastes quite a bit but still maintain a slight affinity for the '82 era of UK hardcore.
It's not a very popular variety of punk right now and so I don't have that many opportunities to indulge in it much anymore. That's why it's pretty refreshing to hear a band that is capable of replicating the brash and cutting aesthetic of that era without it feeling stale. This is why I've been enjoying Bay Area band Sabré. They released their second self-titled EP last summer and I've been throwing it on every couple of weeks since.
The singer has that gruff, chainsmoker voice and the same kind of snarling grunt of a singing style as Colin Abrahall of GBH- an approach to singing that always gave me the impression that the singer is lunging at you with each verse, only to be pulled back and kept in line by a leather strap around his neck, like a junkyard dog. The guitar work is quite a bit cleaner than you'd expect it to be for this style, but it is still able to capture the manic, driving energy of The Partisan and the busy dice of Broken Bones, with some influence seeping in from across the pond from rust-belters like the Virus and Articles of Faith.
Sabré does a fantastic job of capturing the bouncing stomp of acts of the decade they're drawing from, while maintaining the slight sense of danger that all those bands could convey so well. Just like a prickle on the back of your neck. Not enough to trigger your flight or fight response, but enough to get your armpits wet and cause your nostrils to flare. Kind of like if a dude randomly shows you his switchblade in the men's room of a bar and who keeps making sideways glances in your direction the rest of the night once you've both returned to your seats. You will not want to leave before that guy for obvious reasons. God forbid he catches you crossing a blind alley on your way home.
Sabré's S/T II EP is the inverse of this experince, in that if you bail too early, you're only screwing yourself out one heck of an adrenaline rush, one that you can enjoy in the relative safety of your abode- plus I'm almost positive no one is going to stab you while you are listening to this record... If I'm wrong, do not sue me!
Tapes of this EP were pressed by Erste Theke Tontraeger. You can still buy a digital version here.
