It’s always nice when you can balance out the weightiness of an H.L. Mencken quotation on your inner sleeve with the grinningly puerile image of an interplanetary-sized turd on your front cover. Melbourne-based electro-terrorists Snog have managed just that with this scatalogically-titled latest expansive 18 track “single’, which follows hot on the heels of the similarly vast “Kings Of Hate’ remix set. In many senses, the above juxtapositioning is what’s set Snog apart from so many others amongst the faceless “electro-industrial’ / EBM pack; while so many of the aforementioned “politically-oriented’ groups became mired in po-faced literalism, there’s always been a huge element of both pop and knowing satire lurking amongst David Thrussell’s tracks.
This remix set emerges just as the band return from 30 live shows across Russia, the USA and Europe, during which time they were apparently placed under surveillance by the CIA (no doubt a dream come true of sorts for the conspiratorially-minded Thrussell). In its original album incarnation, ‘Planet Of Shit’ certainly runs with the return to electro-industrial dance elements firmly in evidence on parent album “Snog vs. The Juggernaut of Mass Culture’, placing slicing electro rhythms and evil-sounding, vaguely Moroder-esque bass synths beneath roiling distorted bursts of electronics as Thrussell opens his lyrical bile upon “The scum and filth walking on the right”, just before things tumble down into a fantastic faux cock-rock breakdown complete with fretboard twiddling and one of the most biting lyrical kiss-offs Snog have delivered in a while.
There’s certainly an abundance of reworkings of ‘Planet of Shit’ on offer (in fact they make up 12 out of the 18 tracks gathered here), but while you’re spoiled for choice, the degree of inspiration on display isn’ necessarily equal to the massive volume. In pretty much all cases, the most successful reinterpretations end up being the ones where drastic surgery has been undergone on the remixing desk, typified by Kris Kylven rewiring the controls for a NIN circa “Broken’ guitar flameout, White Noise Carousel’s skeletal, glitchy sound art and End’s cello-driven speedcore reconstruction. In addition to the pile of remixes on offer, there’s also a handful of previously unreleased new tracks for the Snog diehards. While many of them come across as acoustic “sketches’ for ideas in progress, eerie Persian-tinged ambient offering “A Nation At War’ easily represents one of this disc’s most chilling highlights, with Thrussell’s mocking tones contrasting struggle in the Middle East with the distractions of suburban existence (“While British soldiers dress as Iraqis and plant explosives, I can do a sick mix on Ableton Live”) as spectral synth drones swell and fall. As always, it’s value for money from the always-generous Mr. Thrussell, and there’s more than enough here to keep Snog fans busy for some time.
Chris Downton
