Eskorbuto/R.I.P. – split album (Munster Records)
The act of reissuing an album, especially one rendered obscure by the unforgiving fog of time, presents something of a contradiction. On one hand, it is a resurrection of sorts, a breath of new life into a creation that was previously relatively inert. However, the album’s re-presentation also contextualizes it as something which once was, ceased to be, and now exists again. This categorization undercuts any sense of vitality by offering the tacit suggestion that the album is relevant only as a sonic and aesthetic time capsule; a mile marker on the road to the here and the now; a relic which, however sacred, belongs to another place and time.
The act of imbuing an album with this sort of historicity has its merits and its drawbacks. Passable and mediocre albums can benefit from a sense of context, just as their superior counterparts can suffer from any perception of a decline in relevance. The recently reissued split record between Eskorbuto and R.I.P., two Basque punk bands from the early 1980s, walks a middle course between the two extremes, but often teeters towards the former option.
Examining an album’s liner notes prior to the music might seem like a poor way to do the album justice. In this case, though, perceiving the record as a historical document, rather than just another piece of music, serves to benefit the listener, both in understanding its context and divining its musical merits. The oversized, glossy booklet, printed in Spanish and English, offers the story of the two bands and their environment over the course of its twenty pages. The reader is offered parallel narratives. On one hand, glimpses of Basque society-–the modernization of the post-Franco era and the repression of separatist organizations like the E.T.A. loom large. On the other, the lives of each band’s members and the struggle to channel frustration and ennui into a creative outlet, in defiance of commonly-held tastes and mores. While the connection between their musical output and the more oppressive elements of their society is fairly straightforward, the insinuation that the flow of menace was a two-way street is never clearly established. There is some suggestion that the bands constituted a danger to the powers that (used to) be, but the writers never explain how or why, aside from references to petty larceny and some apparently tenuous affiliations with a handful of Socialist groups.
Apart from its convoluted back story, the album is actually quite good. It was released in 1983, which places each band several years behind the curve in their respective styles. However, it is worth noting that the bands developed in near-isolation from the punk rock world at large. Apart from a few of the obvious big names who managed to diffuse their influence through geographical and cultural boundaries-–The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Ramones--neither band was aware of current developments in the punk scene. Therefore, while Eskorbuto may sound like Cock Sparrer or Blitz (the melody from “Dios, Patria, Rey” sounds almost identical to “Someone’s Gonna Die Tonight”), and R.I.P. may in turn sound like a castoff from the Flex Your Head compilation LP, the real accomplishment for each band is that they came to those sounds independently, without being an nth-generation facsimile.
Ultimately, this reissue is an imperfect presentation of an otherwise solid, if not groundbreaking, release. In place of, or in addition to, the often convoluted band history, a lyric sheet would have been nice. It'd be helpful in ascertaining what each band represented. And besides, the songs are extremely catchy, and it would be nice to know the words accompanying the infectiousness of the songs. But for anyone looking for a good primer on the Iberian punk that’s been increasingly popular in recent years (look out, Japan), there are far worse places to start than this album.