As they showed when they opened for Joan Jett recently, Essex duo The Meffs are a pretty belligerent bunch. More to the point, they are brilliant.
“Stamp It Out” lays down the terms immediately: abrasive, confrontational punk rock delivered with absolute conviction. “Business” comes with the declaration that “we’re taking our share,” and it sounds less like a request than a warning.
Their cover of The Prodigy’s “Breathe” is menacing as you like, while “Fight” sounds ready to take on the whole place single-handedly. The fact that there are only two of them seems increasingly ridiculous given the sheer force of the noise they create.
There is purpose behind it all, too. “Disorder (Wake Up)” is delivered like The Meffs know exactly who the enemy is, while the anti-war “Broke Britain, Broken Brains” finds them raging against a country that appears determined to tear itself apart. Their version of the X-Ray Spex classic “Identity,” meanwhile, is spat out with suitable venom.
This is punk stripped to its essentials: anger, urgency, huge riffs and something important to say. Nothing is dressed up and nothing is softened for anybody’s benefit. The Meffs mean every word and make a support slot feel like something closer to an uprising.
They are set fair, and you can expect to see plenty more of them. On this evidence, The Meffs might just be one of the most interesting groups in British punk right now.
“Tin Soldiers” comes after the usual intro. There is no awkward warming-up period here; band and audience are immediately as one. “Nobody’s Hero” follows, with “we sit and talk of revolution” roared back at the stage by people who have been doing precisely that with Stiff Little Fingers for decades.
The original version of “Roots, Radics, Rockers & Reggae” had played just before the band came onstage. Now, as SLF make it their own again, Burns surveys his people.
“Raise Your Heart” brings everything sharply into the present. A new song about ICE, it is introduced by Jake Burns with the observation: “I’m pretty sure the C stands for c**t.” The joke raises a laugh, but the anger behind the song is deadly serious.
“Back To Front” gives way to “State Of Emergency,” introduced as the first song they ever wrote. The fact that the world hasn’t moved on merely makes it sound more urgent. “Walkin’ Dynamite,” inspired by the life of Sonny Liston, offers a contrast to the things SLF normally write about, while “Silver Lining” returns to more familiar political territory.
That one was written about the Tory government of 1981. “I’m happy that things are so much better today,” deadpans Burns. The line “there’s always someone better off than you” appears to hit particularly hard.
“At The Edge” becomes something gloriously communal, but “Bits Of Kids” carries heartbreaking stories of children whose lives have been damaged by the world around them. “Listen” might be a little slower, yet the fists still rise in defiance.
“Doesn’t Make It Alright” is introduced as a song SLF tried to get out before The Specials did. Then “Just Fade Away” locks into that unmistakable Stiff Little Fingers sound. When this band finds that particular combination of melody, urgency and fury, has anyone ever done it better? “Wasted Life” finds them railing against the world once more and is just as powerful.
The pace noticeably quickens as the end approaches. “Gotta Gettaway” sends the crowd into another frenzy before “Suspect Device” arrives. Arguably the greatest punk song ever written, judging by the reaction it is agreed upon by the kid in front of me whose dad probably wasn’t even born when it came out.
“Johnny Was” has always been made into a centrepiece, and Burns still delivers it with extraordinary passion. That leaves “Alternative Ulster,” because it doesn’t get more alternative—or much better—than this.
“They think they have control of you—that’s a lie”. They sing.
I’d like to see you try. Almost half a century into doing this, the fire still burns. The title of this tour is Raise Your Heart. And that’s where this comes from.
