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A few weeks ago I left you with a cheeky cliff-hanger about a record I was very stoked to score while I was in Athens. I’m not writing about that record this week, though, so you’ll have to keep tuning in if you want that mystery resolved. However, my staff pick this week is another record I picked up in Athens, and I’ve actually listened to it way more than the record I was most excited about:
Αδιέξοδο: .38 12” (Enigma Records, 1986)
Sadly, I didn’t score an original of this record. It’s not even the 2013 official reissue, but a more recent bootleg. I was happy to pick it up, though, as I don’t recall ever seeing this bootleg before, and even if I had been lucky enough to find an original, I probably wouldn’t have been willing to drop big money on it since I hadn’t heard it before buying this boot. Now that I’ve heard it, though, the original pressing is definitely on my want list.
Despite being mystified by the Greek alphabet, I recognized .38 when I came across it in an Athens record shop because I’d seen it listed in the handful of 80s Greek punk discographies I’d found online and because Αδιέξοδο (whose name in Roman letters is Adiexodo and translates to “Dead End”) has two tracks on the 1984 Greek hardcore punk compilation Διατάραξη κοινής ησυχίας. Διατάραξη κοινής ησυχίας has been my Rosetta Stone when it comes to 80s Greek punk. I’m sure I’ll write a staff pick on that record at some point, but as much as I’ve listened to and liked it, as I’ve tracked down records by the bands who appeared on the compilation, I’ve been surprised to find their own records are mostly even better than their contributions to the compilation.
That’s certainly the case with .38, which arrived in 1986, two years after Διατάραξη κοινής ησυχίας. I don’t know when .38 was recorded, but if it was a few years after the comp, the band doesn’t really show any of the marks of “maturity” that can dilute a great hardcore punk band’s intensity. .38 is a nasty, raw beast, with a recording that reminds me of Blitz’s All Out Attack with its harsh and buzzy guitar sound and venomously barked vocals. Alongside the raw and in-your-face recording (note: the original pressing might not be as blown out… there’s no way for me to know), Αδιέξοδο wields their instruments like a rusty shiv, with a menacing sound that makes me think of the most primitive-sounding 80s French oi! bands like L'Infanterie Sauvage and R.A.S.
Look past that menacing veneer, though, and you find a record that is surprisingly musical. Like a lot of my favorite post-punk bands, Αδιέξοδο inverts the guitarist and bassist’s typical roles, with the guitarist playing more repetitive, rhythmic lines while the bass lines are busier and more melodic. I’m a total sucker for that. And while the guitar sound is so blown out that you hardly notice at first, the guitar work is actually very cool too, mostly sticking to big, chunky chords, but often emphasizing the off beats in a way that makes the songs sound very alive rhythmically, which wouldn’t have been the case with a Ramones-style down-picker. Altogether it creates a unique combination of immediacy and atmosphere, kind of like Hodges from the 4 Skins fronting Warsaw-era Joy Division.
Alongside .38 and the compilation tracks, Αδιέξοδο released three split cassettes with other Greek bands. While I don’t have much hope of ever finding these tapes, one of them—a split with Η Γενιά Του Χάους, who also appeared on the Διατάραξη κοινής ησυχίας compilation—got the vinyl treatment from Scarecrow Records in 2014. Better yet, the vinyl adds several bonus tracks from each band. Given all these cassette releases came out before .38, which appears to be Αδιέξοδο’s coupe de grace, I will keep my expectations low. I’m not any rush to find them, though, as I’m a long way from soaking up everything .38 has to offer.