SP first album has been reviewed on the “Noise Shaft” blog:
France’s Secular Plague is a straight-out Sex Pistols re-incarnation that brings to you the original fishnet-covered tattoo ethos in larger than life-, shorter than a short sharp shock fashion. The album, while at heart is a proud and eloquent representative of the good old punkish “We Just Fail to Give a Shit” musical narrative, the steepest-, and pretty much only requirement of the genre is steadily met by the band, which is none other than to establish an organic connection of stone cold raw meat charisma between the instruments AND the lead singer, for whom the ensemble of the aforementioned elements serves as a legitimate – in Sex Pistolsian sense – musical backdrop. Don’t be afraid, and be nothing else, either : the album sounds exactly as a Sex Pistols record should. Aggressive, clubroom-intimate, reeking a mood by which a bouncer’s fist in your face is as likely as a second (third??) tongue in your mouth is, and the disc sure takes you into the deepest depths of the underground “nitelife”, pardon “me French”, you worthless gimp. Read on to find out more about this super-orthodox punk release.
The album reigns amidst the most compact releases of the year so far, as result of its 15 minutes and 22 seconds full spin time. Funnily enough, the twelve tracks work pretty well throughout this program period, courtesy of their sober structural anatomy, teamed up with a conscious decision to not flatter any one idea of the contribution for too long. This is what I like about the disc the best : the music, though top tier legit Sex Pistols music, is treated like dirt. It is an evolution of the Sex Pistolsian music in the sense that it claims and Exploits – no reference intended, noooo – the right to be mean and dismissive with the mere character of the music being played, and this kind of audio data looks best when it is treated that way, to be honest. It just LOVES being treated like dirt, and loses of its charms whenever it deviates from its own self destructive suicidal tendencies. “Let me have a nervous breakdown in peace, please?”
With that being sad, I also feel the need to resonate a personal percept of mine relating to the stimuli found on the disc : the riffcraft-, the ideas I hear herein are easily good enough to fuel a record twice as long as this is, and, in my opinion it demands tremendous respect that the band decides to kick the ass of their own ideas with such rigor and eloquence on a constant basis, nevertheless. No tame, caring sentiments are being cultivated herein towards any one idea, towards any one riff. “Wow, we are good, this riff sports balls!” The disc is the grandiose anti-theses of this quoted-, amateurish, narcissistic, self-congratulatory progressive metal stance. (Nothing against serious progressive metal, of course.) All riffs are bitchslapped silly or straight out ravaged down to the core before they’d arrive to their full fruition, and that is the twisted beauty of the whole disc, too. If you think you did not yet catch the drift fully herein, then know that the meaning of Secular Plague’s music is plain, simple, yet eloquently expressed.
A good old fashioned punk sonic beating is cruising in the air and it is looking for you.
You can read the original review on the NoiseShaft blog: