Stations of the Crass is the 1979 landmark double-LP by English anarcho-punk band Crass, released on their independent label to solidify their reputation as pioneers of radical, political punk. The album features a raw sonic assault that combines studio recordings with a live performance, while its title references both a religious ritual and the band's own graffiti campaign.
Lyrically, the album delivers a blistering critique of late-1970s British society, targeting far-right nationalism, institutional religion, and the commercialisation of punk, notably on tracks like "White Punks on Hope." With its distinct DIY ethic, minimalistic sound, and stark artwork, the release remains a definitive, influential piece of anti-establishment art.
"They said that we were trash/Well the name is
Crass, not Clash." So goes the opening of the coruscating "White
Punks on Hope," and with “Stations” Crass takes things to an even more
vicious level than on “Feeding”. The opening yelps and screams from Ignorant on
"Mother Earth" over a slow-building burn show that there was already
much more to Crass than simple crash and bash punk, and with the rest of the
album the collective moves between full-on assault and an ever increasing
agit-snarl experimentation. Originally released as two vinyl discs, the
conclusion of the second consists of a live show in Islington the summer of
1979, with the band tearing through new and old cuts with passion, including
such fierce anthems as "Do They Owe Us a Living?" and "Shaved
Women." The studio tracks, including versions of some cuts from the live
show, all come from a one-day session four days after the concert and while
some tracks are almost fragments, surprisingly things aren't as constantly
monochrome or as rushed as one might think. Whether stripping things down to
dub-tinged bass, drums, and repetitive guitar snarls or blends of staccato
rhythms and found-sound noise (or even, on "Walls," trying a bit of
disco), Crass creates a unique brand of fierce, inspirational music. Libertine
and De Vivre make impressive cameos alongside Ignorant's lead vocals, making
the perfect argument through performance that passion trumps technical skill
when the chips are down. The sheer amount of issue tackling and blunt speaking
throughout ranges from political statements of purpose over every aspect of the
status quo to relentless self-examination. One running attack against the band
was always that their words were better read than listened to, but hearing the
seething hatred projected by Ignorant on "Big Man, Big M.A.N." is
enough to convince one otherwise. One of the funniest tracks is the vivisection
of music press figure Garry Bushell, "Hurry Up Garry," which
uncannily predicts his eventual descent into right-wing tabloid idiocy.
Ned Raggett




