The Wildhearts have had a curious history – some might even say tumultuous – and their journey has rarely, if ever, been an easy one. While, from the outside, the band’s third reformation (which found Ginger joined by C.J., Danny McCormack, and Rich Battersby) might have seemed to be productive – it did produce two excellent albums and an EP – it all collapsed in 2022, leaving many to wonder if this most implosive of bands had finally run its course.
It was something of a surprise, then, when Ginger announced a new lineup for a run of live shows. Featuring returning bassist Jon Poole (who has been in and out of the band since the early 00’s), as well as Ben Marsden (guitar), and Pontus Snibb (drums), this new lineup received rave reviews, with a particular focus on Ginger’s enduring passion for the band he first formed in 1989. And it is that passion that drives this latest effort– The Satanic Rites Of The Wildhearts. Make no mistake, the album is not only a labour of love for Ginger, who has declared it his favourite Wildhearts album to date (up against some pretty damn stiff competition), but also for the incoming members, who had a lifetime of preconceived notions to overcome before they ever recorded a note. As such, that we have a Wildhearts album at all is something of a minor miracle but, as those who have heard the singles can attest, Ginger’s claims are not mere bluster – this is one hell of an album, to the extent that it gleefully restores your faith in the restorative power of rock ‘n’ roll even while beating you over the head with some of the heaviest riffs Ginger has yet deployed.
It doesn’t fuck about. Eventually lands with the sort of explosive metal riff that drove Inglorious, and it’ll have fans in raptures. With rock solid production and shades of Helmet in the arrangement, it’s a devastating opening that instantly hooks you in. Rest assured, any doubts you may have had will be smashed to pieces the second this mean little bastard detonates and it has it all – soaring melodies, massive riffs, punk rock attitude, and a lingering sense of hope washed through the chorus. Seriously, give yourself some space because you’ll want to play this track a few times before you even think of moving on to the rest of the album.
Once your awe at the opening number has passed, forge on and you’ll find Scared Of Glass, a track that pinches a trick or two from AC/DC before plunging headlong into a compelling mix of Thin Lizzy and The Ramones. Melodic and riff driven with a massive, gang-chant chorus, it’s Wildhearts in excelsis, and it’ll leave you with a giant, shit-eating grin plastered right across your face. Up next, the recently released Troubadour Moon leaps into the fray with its sweet slide opening and brisk pace. A classic Wildhearts pop song, it provides a nice counterpoint to the more expansive fare that opens the album.
Not that the respite lasts long.
Don’t be fooled by the crackly, faux-vinyl intro to Fire In The Cheap Seats – what follows stands as one of the heaviest tracks ever to bear the Wildhearts monicker and, while it still has a wonderful melody coiled at its heart, the delivery is arguably the closest the band have come to Endless Nameless since that much maligned album emerged in 1997 to terrorise eardrums. The first half wraps up with Kunce – a not wholly unexpected title from a man who once titled an album Phuq and, with its huge riffs and punk rock delivery, Kunce could easily be drawn from that album. It marks a breathless end to the album’s first side and you’ll need the moment necessary to flip the disc just to get your spinning senses into some semblance of order.
With the needle once more racing through the groove, the hulking great riff of Maintain Radio Silence seethes with rage, Ginger unloading as Pontus does his best to open up a sinkhole beneath your living room floor. Absolutely electrifying, a band in its fourth decade has no right to sound this vital, and yet the Wildhearts make it look easy, Ginger clearly revitalised by the new blood in the band and the fans’ enduring support. The enigmatically titled Blue Moon Over Brinkburn maintains the pace, once again nodding to The Ramones, with just a hint of Sick Of Drugs thrown in for good measure, particularly with the interjected, spoken-word asides. Simply good fun, it boasts one hell of a catchy chorus, not to mention some gloriously arty guitar work in the second half.
Arguably the most pivotal moment on the album, the subtle Hurt People Hurt People may be absolutely beautiful, but anyone who has followed the band will know that it is sourced from a place of authentic pain. Nevertheless, for those who have found themselves in a similarly dark place, it’s a wonderfully cathartic piece of music that genuinely leaves you feeling like you can make it out the other side, with Ginger reminding you that “you’ll live and you’ll learn, you’ll crash and you’ll burn, your story is far from done”. A brave, vulnerable piece of music from an artist who has never been afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve, it is the soothing oasis at the heart of this blistering album, and it is all the more affecting for a stripped-down production that places unflinching focus on the lyrics.
Having literally wrenched the listener through heartbreak and healing, Ginger unleashes the stabbing I’ll Be Your Monster, which throws blistering riffs against a set of lyrics that hark back to the early days of Manic Street Preachers. Oh, and it has a squealing sax solo because… well, why not?!
It leaves the epic-length Failure Is The Mother Of Success to see this effervescent bastard of an album out. Thrash-infused, it’s another track that pairs the most hopeful of lyrics with the most stinging of riffs, setting the blood racing through the veins before a lengthy coda finds Ginger singing “you took a lot of knocks to get where you are today”, as a heavenly chorus rings out behind him. It reminds us once more that Ginger has always been, and will always be, by our sides as we navigate the pitfalls of life. Personally, I can think of no better guide.
I love, love, love the Wildhearts. I have done ever since I found a dusty copy of Fishing For Luckies in a darkened corner of Woolworths and had my synapses comprehensively rearranged by Inglorious. Since then, the band has come and gone, providing some of my most treasured live memories, as well as a series of albums that still get regular airplay. However, with The Satanic Rites… Ginger has outdone himself. While the intensity of the music and the brilliance of the production will draw you in, it’s the lyrics that will keep you hooked. Soul bearing, but with a sense of hope underpinning even the darkest moments, it’s an album that gives you a hug even as it pummels you and the overwhelming emotion that permeates every second is joy.
Over his storied life, Ginger has seen it all and done it all, but he’s here to tell you that you can make it and that counts for an awful lot in a world grown increasingly cold and cynical. The Satanic Rites Of The Wildhearts is an absolute delight and, unbelievably, Ginger is right – it stands tall alongside the band’s very best works. 10/10
