As some have argued, it was a year driven by a kind of subconscious desire among the population to recreate 1966. Examples of this would be Oasis in place of The Beatles, Tony Blair instead of Harold Wilson and winning Euro 96 would have been the equivalent of the 1966 World Cup.
In retrospect, that probably shouldn’t be a big surprise. Loyalties and ideologies that had dominated the 20th century were now seemingly defunct, old conflicts were seemingly being resolved through democracy and there was a sense among some that liberal democracy was now the only game in town.
Although alternative ways of living were still possible, the failure of the Newbury bypass protests and the increase of CCTV cameras around Britain was an indication that the book was closing on that dream. The Sex Pistols reunion offered further proof that the alternative was now the mainstream but was now old enough to inspire retrospectives. A horrifying thought for Year Zero purists.
In the midst of all of this, Killing Joke released one of their most misunderstood and overlooked records.
The 90’s had not been an easy time for the band.
While Extremities, Dirt and Various Repressed Emotions was a righteous blast of anger, distribution problems curtailed its momentum. A split with singer Jaz Coleman saw the formation of Murder. Inc and then a reunion with Coleman and original bassist Youth saw the release of Pandemonium. Not only was it a commercial success, but it arrived at a time when bands influenced by Killing Joke (Metallica, Nirvana, Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, Helmet, Prong and Faith No More were at the apex of their popularity), thus introducing the band to a younger audience.
With that in the bank, it was time to do something different.
Speaking in 1996, Coleman was his usual, bullish self when asked what inspired the LP:
This album deals more with the alternative lifestyle, as well as the idea of democracy; with finding some of the answers instead of going up some grey cul-de-sac, like that whole X generation thing. We wrote the album in a very optimistic summer in Cornwall, England. We were exchanging a lot of ideas about how we wanted to live our lives as well as do our music. It's the most optimistic album that we've ever been a part of. The millennium, as you were talking about, is always with us. In New Zealand, we now have proportional representation. We're moving to a 15-party system, which means that we have a perpetual coalition. We'll get green and ecological agendas who will be banning the internal combustion engine in the areas where they have influence. People, if they like those ideas, will move to those areas. And so a new form of tribalism will emerge. If the Republican Party has its way in this country, it will give more power to the states, and in twenty years' time, instead of having the United States of America, we'll have lots of different countries. In the end, proportional representation is the only true democratic system. This combines with the ideas we have on the album. Most bands these days like to portray that urban image, "I live in a fucked-up city." There's no visionary creativity. Nobody is tackling the future.
A tall order but, if anyone was up to the task of translating these ideas into songs, then you would have been a fool to bet against Coleman, who once vowed to define the atomic sound before he died and who (if rumours are to be believed) was saving his royalties so he could buy his own army.
In a separate interview in the same period, Youth confessed that he didn’t think much of the new LP:
I think we felt we'd covered most of what we could do with that electronic thing. So I said, Let's do pop song formats and melodies, which is like the way we did the first album. And they said, Oh, we're not fucking doing that again. We wanna do songs without choruses...I shouldn't really say this, but I don't think Democracy is as good as Pandemonium. Whereas Pandemonium was a gigantic production - a 75mm screen job - I wanted to underproduce this one. And it is a bit underproduced! Having said that there are a couple of songs that I think are stunning - 'Medicine Wheel', which is really simple - and 'Savage Freedom'. I wanted to hear Jaz sing, you know, rather than scream.
Years later, both Coleman and guitarist Geordie Walker expressed disappointment over how Democracy turned out. Speaking in 2010, Walker made it clear that while he though the album was great:
...Youth just fucking ruined the mix. There was like loads of analogue fucking synth pulses and fucking old Korg monopolies, and Youth decided ‘I want to mix this on my own’ and do...his idea of a fucking American radio mix. He just fucking ditched all the fucking synths. And all the guitar parts were high, written over the fucking synths...And he kept the money for doing it.
But does it stand up 30 years later?
‘Savage Freedom’ immediately sets the tone for the record with punchy, up-front acoustic drums followed by Walker’s semi-acoustic Gibson ES-295 playing in a more laid-back manner than we’re used to. It feels like a campfire song, and Coleman’s vocals about it being the age of the CV and alternative lifestyles being a way-out further the link. What is immediately apparent is the hope and optimism evident in Coleman’s lyrics as he sings about loving the land and its people as a way out of modern life. A rousing chorus seals the deal.
The only single taken from the LP, ‘Democracy’ is an odd choice as it’s a half acoustic/half loud scream of despair which is relatively downbeat. As the title track, it’s a powerful number that lambasts the treatment of the Newbury bypass protestors as well as the increasingly blurred lines between politics and big business. Walker sounds particularly potent on here with his tone having this kind of all encompassing, swirling sound to it.
Having been singled out for criticism in the past, it’s refreshing to note how simple and effective ‘Prozac People’ is. While the lyrics may be a little on the nose for some, they perfectly match the sinister and slightly psychedelic sounding arpeggio riff that conjures up an image of a black cloud that is expelled by the righteous acceptance of the chorus.
Going back to the folk vibe, ‘Lanterns’ could be best described as euphoric melancholia. The music puts me in mind of Irish folk (with Walker adding a little discordant bend to the riff that creates an off-kilter vibe) while Youth’s rumbling bass brings an urgency to proceedings. The wistful chorus dreams of a future that, even in 1996, was slowly disappearing.
Walker’s ability to create a wall of sound is demonstrated perfectly on ‘Aeon’. A ritualistic number that takes the listener on a journey through a myriad of gods, folk memories with the conclusion that life may be ugly in places but tapping into Gaia’s spirit will offer fresh renewal. Youth, in combination with Walker, add menace and foreboding to the pre-chorus while offering euphoria for the chorus.
‘Pilgrimage’ is a vibe and a half. I love the acoustic intro and the swirling loop it turns into once the pedals are activated and because of this it feels like a companion song to the title track, this time offering a way out.
The most Killing Joke sounding song on the album, ‘Intellect’ suffers somewhat from being an attempt to tap into the same vein as ‘Whiteout’ (from the previous LP Pandemonium) and not being as powerful. However, in the context of Democracy, it’s Killing Joke gone Spiral Tribe, the soundtrack to an illegal rave in a forest.
"Pan flutes are an instrument not normally associated with Killing Joke. But when used as an intro, combined with a rumbling electronic undercurrent and live bass drum, 'Medicine Wheel' makes complete sense.
‘Absent Friends’ operates in that area of nostalgic hope that Killing Joke do so beautifully. Geordie’s swirling riff feels like a tornado heading towards you which, coupled with the chorus’ swinging groove (as if you’re moshing for your life), accentuates Coleman’s full-throated pledges to never forget those who are no longer with us. This should have been a staple in the live set but it was not to be. I’m eternally grateful that I got to hear it being aired twice.
Closing with ‘Another Bloody Election’ may well have initially been intended as a comment on the lifestyle that was to be left behind but in recent years it comes across to me as a tacit admission that outside forces will always conspire to usurp the underdog. Musically, it’s the only song on the record that could be described as a traditional Killing Joke number in terms of chord formation. The twist this time is that it’s played at a slower pace than normal whereas if it had been sped up it would have been in line with the likes of ‘Corporate Elect’ and ‘Lords of Chaos’. As a closer, it sums up the LP: new age cynicism and a willingness to mess with what worked in the past.
Coming out to mixed reviews (one reviewer amusingly described the album as sounding like James Hetfield fronting U2) as well as a truncated tour that barely lasted a month and saw Youth being replaced by Troy Gregory (Prong). Tellingly, only three songs from Democracy made it into the set. And then Killing Joke lay dormant until the 21st century, when a new generation discovered their righteous fury (fired up by illegal invasions and further erosion of civil liberties) and reacted accordingly.
As a result, Democracy occupies a strange place in the KJ canon.
Sandwiched in between the commercially successful Pandemonium and the rage of the 2003 s/t record, Democracy is much more laid back and sanguine in places. A brave experiment and one I think time has been very kind to. It swings the band in a new direction thanks to the acoustic segments, and the vibe is close to folk rather than apocalyptic. It sees Coleman take comfort in simple pleasures, reflecting some of the optimism of the period, while picking away at the facade of the times. For me, Everything Must Go by the Manic Street Preachers (which also came out the same year) acts as a fellow traveller: a politically aware band with a keen sense of history adapting to and commenting on the times.
It’s also a very vulnerable Killing Joke record: musings on Prozac, dead friends, freedom and the power of the life force. Hence, I suspect, why it wasn’t well received at the time. While Coleman has always displayed moments of solemness, the Black Jester persona is barely present and those who merely wanted the diatribes would be disappointed.
It would certainly be interesting to hear those original mixes that Walker referred to but, as it stands, the whole album captures a vibe of disillusionment and longing like no other record I’ve heard. The subject matter very much roots the album in 1996 but there's a subtle darkness in places (such as the title track and 'Another Bloody Election'). Recorded in a period where the old alternative lifestyles of communes and squatters were slowly being erased gives proceedings an extra poignancy.
So if Britain was attempting to recreate 1966 that year, then Killing Joke were pointing a way forward while warning us of what we would lose in the next decade or two. They may have been out of sync with the mood of the country in 1996 but time is a great vindicator.
⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.
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