Essential Listening: The Plateau Phase – Crispy Ambulance (1982)

Snobbery and decay, when it comes to music consumption preferences, for some this is the only way.

Adopting such a tribalistic paradigm becomes ridiculous when taken to the extreme – because Leonard Cohen or Joni Mitchell aren’t Bob Dylan to some, they’re not worth the bother. The gatekeeping of a band, songwriter or an album as the undisputable standard, asserts that there should be no genre at all. All very tragic and insufferably boring.

Inverted snobbery is equally pitiful. Being a successful poseur of arcane taste requires anti-intellectual conceits and dishonesty masquerading as excessive obstinacy. Mainstream consensuses are for the squares. How others perceive something and how your opinion was formulated matters far more than what you truly think. Often, it’s cheap attention seeking by being contrarian, and it’s easy to ridicule the taste of others as trite when only you know of and or “get” obscure acts.

I’ll concede that all of the above accusations of inverted snobbery could be levied at me here, and I can’t be bothered to refute them. I won’t claim that Crispy Ambulance’s The Plateau Phase is better than Joy Division’s two albums, but I do prefer it. And that makes me wonder why it is barely mentioned as one of the best albums of the post-punk genre. To be specific, when talking about post-punk, I’m talking a specific sub-trait: post-punk that’s thoroughly Mancunian, seated in a distinct time and place of the late seventies to early eighties; pessimistic, abrasive, almost morose – The Fall and Joy Division operating as the archetypes.

When discussing music challenging daft narratives is equally susceptible to vanity and snobbery. It’s not that it’s a problem sharing the minority view, that Joy Division’s reputation is inflated, but that it potentially aligns with fucking Morrissey of all people is. Always the first to anoint himself a member of the taste police, his comments in 1984 on Joy Division are revealing, he “didn’t take to them that much”. That their aesthetic was superficial, surmised more eloquently by George Michael as “pretentious and contrived”. In a state of boorish insecurity, dare I suggest jealousy, Morrisey focused on Ian Curtis’s death as the overriding reason they were (and are) held in such high esteem and above all other post-punk contemporaries. People are fickle and so there is an element of truth to his latter assertion, but the subsequent claim that their ascent to success was peddled as accessible and replicable on the back of Curtis’s death is a clear shot at Tony Wilson more than a deeper analysis. Let me surmise by saying all this stuff is bullshit.

It’s truer to say Crispy Ambulance and their album The Plateau Phase have been enveloped, and somewhat washed away by a wave of cultural groupthink, almost a cod mythology, surrounding Joy Division and the accompanying exceptionalism that often demands emphatically exclusionary outcomes. It makes me wonder what other bands suffered a similar fate. Strip away all the surface and the only problems both the band and this album have is that they aren’t named Joy Division (it’s a much better band name that Crispy Ambulance, admittedly), therefore the album doesn’t have the rep that Unknown Pleasures or Closer have, and, more acutely, that it came after both. The last is the most problematic, as it’s susceptible to accusations of plagiarism, unoriginality and perhaps a degree of cynicism by the absolutist crowd.

While both were excellent albums, it’s safe to concede that the timing of Ian Curtis’s death somewhat inoculated Joy Division from becoming besmirched by the adverse excesses of the fame thresher. The band’s abrupt end left it perfectly mummified as it was, a forever nostalgia that cannot be sullied by a lacklustre band reunion tour twenty years later. Excellence tends to only be fortified by scarcity or a truncated run, see Jimi Hendrix, and in the case of Mark E. Smith, abundance. Instead of replacing Curtis with Crispy Ambulance’s lead singer Alan Hempsall, as they’d done after one Curtis’s unsuccessful suicide attempts, Bernard Sumner and Stephen Morris decided, wisely, to migrate away from Joy Division’s post-punk sound and aesthetic by reforming under the New Order moniker, which also gave their new project necessary distance from all this nonsense.

Releasing your album later does provide access to a wider palette of influences from one of music’s most vibrant eras. And The Plateau Phase has so many that it’s hard to list them all, but it’s the album’s emphasis of post-punk’s capability to be holistic that appeals.

“Simon’s Ghost” features an Eno-esque mellow drone over soothing strings. “Wind Season” wouldn’t look out of place on XTC’s album White Music. The pace of the baseline on “Bardo Plane” is very Comsat Angels. Much of “Death from Above” mixes ambient drone and library music over a very slow base chord. “Federation” is a typically chaotically disparate punk composition. On “Are You Ready” marching drums gives way to base thrashing and a dense guitar bars. “Travel Time” features languid vocals and mellow guitar work that feels very Cure. The first half of “Concorde Square” is very derivative of Joy Division’s “Transmission”, with Hempsall clearly showing his superiority as a singer when compared with Ian Curtis’s excessively drawl monotone.

“The Presence” is a real show stopper, and one of the best post-punk tunes. You’re treated to thirteen minutes of an undeniable baseline and drum sequence. Pessimistic, sinister lyrics delivered with real angst marry with thrashing guitar chords that arrive satisfyingly in strata. It’s aggressive as punk but as infectious as new age pop. It would’ve been perfect in Grosse Point Blank during the sequence where Martin Blank kills the Basque hitman at his high-school reunion, and made both the song and movie 1.64% cooler.

But that wasn’t to be, as, I suspect, most have never heard of The Plateau Phase. As I get older, my willingness to discover new music shares a kindship with Scott Walker’s creative journey. He became more avant-garde and open to experimentation as time went by. This makes The Plateau Phase a test, not of taste, but receptiveness – to something that isn’t “new” in an old genre, and to the shifting of the post-punk lexicon. If you still prefer Joy Division and their offerings, I’ll happily yield. But just not at the exclusion of this excellent album.

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Song Of The Day – Rockaway by Jackie-O Motherfucker

From the album “Flags Of the Sacred Harp” (2005)

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Song Of The Day – I Choose You by Chicago Gangsters

From the album “Blind Over You” (1975)

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Defending The Don, how hard can it be?

We’re only a few weeks into 2026 and many deliberations surround Donald Trump. The most common one – is he the worst person in the world?

In the spirit of fairness, I feel it’s my duty to play devil’s advocate and defend the world’s most unpopular public figure and state leader. The purpose here is to reach beyond surface level contrarianism and attempt to understand the man’s motivations on a deeper level. His opponents claim this to be an impossibility. The accusations, while consistent, are trite; he’s irredeemable, Trump’s the ultimate narcissist and mercenary and he’s only in the Donald Trump business, that he’s vain and weathervane, has no sense of the common good, empathy or altruism and is pitifully seduced by displays of gauche opulence and authoritarian forms of power.

To succeed we must afford him what many say he’s incapable of reciprocating – viewing someone else as a human being of value, albeit in this case a rotund orange one with confusing hair. Could it be that Donald Trump is one of us, Just a slob like one of us, Just a stranger on the bus, Tryin’ to make His way to Taco Bell?

Let’s analyse the criticisms and see if they’re justified. And to all the haters out there, let this be a useful exercise. To defeat your enemy fairly and comprehensively, you must understand his pathology.

Tariffs

Trump’s using his business nous to radically reform the US economy’s composition by necessitating an increase domestic productivity by taxing foreign imports, only for corporations, small business owners and manufacturers to moan about rising costs harming sales, eroded profit margins and broken supply chains. Ungrateful swine. If too many in the workforce want to be an HR inclusivity assistant manager on six figures, and won’t willingly switch to the low paid, low skilled manufacturing jobs to produce goods and components previously supplied by the Chinese, Indians and Bangladeshis, force change through. Sure, the economy will decline, even flatline, with the exogenous shock. Inflation is rising, the dollar is being devalued, US bonds too, the cost of living is affecting more than most, but this is all temporary. Trump’s playing the long game here. Deport the low skilled, low wage immigrants, scare the liberals and the woke in into compliance with the ICE Gestapo and eventually enough will be desperate to get the remaining blue-collar jobs A.I. doesn’t capture. All will be forgiven in time – these folks who hate Trump are all as vacuous as his advocates are accused of being. They’re cattle, and the herd will move onto the next cause célèbre. Many would watch a Running Man Meets Hunger Games style gameshow, hosted by one of the Trump offspring, probably the birdbrained one with the teeth, to decide the successful applicants.

Elon Musk and the Silicon Valley billionaires

Imagine the headache of dealing with Musk and those autistic Palantir wankers. They’re stranger than shouty non-binary woke lesbians with purple coloured Hitler haircuts. They have too much wealth and influence – especially when punting their silly prophecies of A.I.’s influence, with their egomaniacal anti-social desires of how it will reshape humanity with aggressive depopulation. Not to mention they’re all jacked up to the tits with designer drugs, they willingly wear gilets and many have average looking oriental wives. Credit to Trump for seeing through their obsequious fawning and ending the Musk DOGE experiment. They’d better watch their step and fall in line. Don’s created a government agency that shoots to kill without threat of legal repercussions. And so, it encourages this hypothesis, would you be so anti-Trump if he ordered one of his militia men to shoot Peter Thiel in the face? Be honest now.

ICE

Speaking of ICE, it’s the patriotic army fighting to save America by curing the woke mind virus through intimidation, shooting insufferable terrorist liberals in the street where possible, deporting people for not being white, sending gay hairdressers with crappy tattoos to El Salvador and placing toddlers in detention centres. Hey, this isn’t all Trump’s doing either. Some claim that commie liberal Muslim Obama deported more people by spending less. Fake news!What is true, there’s a consensus that immigration is very bad guys – some democrats voted to fund ICE. The Fox News Braintrust tells us that a form of martial law is needed to restore order to a society gone decadent through a combination of social media addiction, physical inactivity and which no longer fears the power of the executive. The Romans executed Jesus, and clearly something similar is required to instill fear in the masses, ensuring they comply with the fundamentalist Christian values and customs widely held by Trump’s base.

Mussolini’s method of bringing society and culture to heel was surmised as; “once a boundary is broken, it’s no longer a boundary”. If enough ICE shootings happen, eventually people will be scared to leave their homes, so they won’t. Hey presto, safe streets. Plus, it’s better to placate the violent fantasies of untrained gun owning psychos with a constructive mission, serving as a fascistic wing of the government rather than against it. Left to their own devices they could behave like Timothy McVeigh.

The wet wipe assistant

Billionaire decadence to some, but all eighty-year-olds would happily have someone on hand to help wipe their bum for them if they could afford it.

Being nasty, vindictive, lewd and rude

Yelling quiet piggy at a snippily condescending female journalist, eulogizing about the size of Arnold Palmer’s member and triumphantly extolling the virtues of grabbing women by the pussy. Humiliating Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in the Oval office. All signs of Trump being a fucking cunt? Nope, all examples of people becoming so thin skinned, pious and humourless. Bring back the nineties, toxic masculinity wasn’t a thing back then, women tended to keep quiet when they were sexually assaulted and everyone was much happier for it. Speaking of sex crimes…

His association with Jeffrey Epstein

The world would be a strange place if people intrinsically assumed the worst of each other. For instance, that all childless men over thirty-five who are friendly to children are paedophiles.

Isn’t it possible that Trump is simply guilty by association and or overactive imaginations thoroughly jaded by cliché. Where is the evidence that he partook in sex with underage girls when visiting the island or at one of Epstein’s sex parties? Donny boy’s a successful businessman, a member of the New York social elite. He’s probably met countless people who have hidden deviances and fetishes he wasn’t aware of, and, well, Prince Andrew. Don’t forget Epstein’s sexual misdeeds first began under Clinton’s presidency, and we know Bill’s a perv – he bonked his utterly mid secretary and visited the island too. Heavily redacted documents certainly shouldn’t assume guilt, never mind prove it. Hunter Biden had a laptop.

Trump’s mental and physical state

What does it say about a culture’s civility, or lack of it, that Trump’s physical and mental state is a constant source of tittle-tattle. Take Sleepy Joe Biden, he continuously stumbled and mis-spoke, even blanked on words and confused dates and names in a public debate against Trump, and it caused mass consternation and hand-wringing. Instead, the left triumphantly, gleefully misconstrue that Trump’s impressively riffed speeches are really a sign his brain is malfunctioning and he’s glitching in a way reminiscent of Kryten from Red Dwarf when he had an axe lodged in his back. Would you mock your eighty-year-old nan for showing mild signs of cognitive decline? How guilty would you feel if it turned out she’d had a stroke, or dementia, early onset Alzheimer’s disease, a dicky heart or renal failure. None of which Trump has.

The US empire

What right have we as Europeans to tell Trump not to be a colonialist? We’re bloody hypocrites. Imperialism was good enough for the Romans, the Normans, the Ottomans, all the five French Republics, the Portuguese, the Spanish, the Dutch, the British, the Austro-Hungarians, Adolf Hitler and the Nazis and then the Soviets. Today we still enjoy the affluence built by plundering the resources of “shithole countries”. This piously reformed lot are (mostly) onside with Israel’s violent colonialism, at worst apathetic to it, but as soon as Donald Trump makes moves to build the US’s first empire via the purchase of Greenland and disposing commie Maduro to control Venezuela’s oil reserves, disapproval arrives. The way these European leaders behaved at Davos was snobbish, informed by petty jealousy of what was once had but stupidly relinquished. Little did they know that abolishing slavery was the first step in acquiescing to diversity and inclusion.

Donny’s been quite reserved with all that military hardware and spending at his disposal. He’s only bombed seven countries since re-election early last year. Just having military bases in some countries doesn’t mean shit either. The US is one of the few modern superpowers that hasn’t enjoyed an extensive overseas empire, one where the sun never sets. Putin and Xi Jinping are strong men who understand Trump’s yearning for expanding power through geopolitical bullying. Forget what Mark Carney said, comparing you to the mass delusion needed to maintain communism was fake news, the post war order is an impediment to peace, the stronger the US appears to its enemies and former allies, the safer we all are. If you’re taking Greenland, might as well get Canada too. Don’t forget to turn Gaza into Disneyworld for adults. If you’re going to be an emperor, you must be ambitious, and Trump is certainly that. Consider Napoleon, it was his ambition that will ensure his name will never be forgotten. He only failed due to being French, the surrendering dwarf tosser.

Corruption

Business is a zero-sum game and an extension of evolutionary biology’s nihilism. So, if you become president, why shouldn’t you launch a shitcoin, one that both scams these imbecile Maga cultists who voted for you and allows kowtowing billionaires to pay a tribute to the Don, mafia style. Fred Trump would be proud his boy developed such a gloriously effective form of passive income. Speaking of which…

He’s a nepo baby

This one’s clearly unfair. Trump’s no Brooklyn Beckham. Fred Trump was a success in business too, but Don’s eclipsed him, in fame and fortune. Outside of his sycophants and acolytes nobody ever credits him for this. Sure, his dad gave him a few million to help him get started on his way, but isn’t that what parents are for, to give you a leg up? Rather a lot of middle-class kids get help from the bank of mum and dad for the deposit on their first house. The only difference here is in scale.

He’s fat, old, ugly and he looks ridiculous

These looks maxing goons have some nerve. Even at eighty Trump mogs that fatbody JD Vance, he doesn’t need leg extensions (Stephen Miller has few uses, but when standing next to Trump he certainly makes Trump seem even taller than he is) and Trump married an Eastern European model, and she’s a white woman too. Most of these wannabee Chad incels on Twitter mocking Trump’s looks have never even spoken to a real woman, unless it’s an Indian girl working in a call centre trying to sell them a new mobile phone contract.

He was nearly assassinated

A near death experience can affect anybody in unpredictable ways, but to Trump’s credit he survived and kept on being his bombastic self. Charlie Kirk was so pathetically weak that he got killed by some chronically online Republican bloke gone woke by dating a transitioning person. Plus, why was a thirty-one-year-old man sitting down? It just made him easier to hit. That’ll teach him.

He’s just a reality TV personality

This is another source of ridicule, but should it be? That iconic entrance into politics by coming down an elevator was pure showbiz. Trump confected a perfect populist schtick in the most vacuous of theaters and converted it into political currency. What an achievement. Was it his fault that it just so happened to be the antidote to the boring, ineffectual centrist dad technocrats, your Clinton’s and your Bush’s, whose policies have made your average voter poorer for decades. Ronald Reagan was a shit B movie actor. Donald Trump was a successful reality TV star. Now, I ask you, which is more impressive, what’s a more entertaining and interesting crossover? Who’s the only person who can pardon Joe Exotic and would think to do so? The Don. That’s who.

Well, that wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Just who’s guilty here. I’ll leave you to consider this quote from George Orwell;

“A people that elect corrupt politicians, imposters, thieves and traitors are not victims but accomplices”

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Song Of The Day – Fastlove by George Michael

From the album “Older” (1996)

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