NOTHING IN HERE BUT ALARM CLOCKS
When last we saw the Alarm, they were indeed going out in a blaze of glory, having released a debut album that received mostly favorable critical attention (in the States, that is, but that’s another story...) and solidified and enlarged their core of tremendously devoted fans.
NOTHING IN HERE BUT ALARM CLOCKS
FEATURES
Karen Schlosberg
When last we saw the Alarm, they were indeed going out in a blaze of glory, having released a debut album that received mostly favorable critical attention (in the States, that is, but that’s another story...) and solidified and enlarged their core of tremendously devoted fans.
The Welsh quartet has been pounding the boards for four-and-a-half years, diving image-first into the brave new postpunk frontier and slowly but surely developing their own individual sound and style. The band’s 1983 EP and 1984’s Declaration LP were sweeping statements generalizing socio-politicoemotional feelings into powerful, anthemic tunes for our times. Funny thing was, the songs worked.
That description obviously didn’t—and now certainly doesn’t—do the Alarm justice, and they were—and still aren’t— everyone’s proverbial cup of tea. But the fact remains that they are paid attention to by friend and foe alike. There’s something about them that demands attention; something that demands emotion; something that demands a response from behind whatever barriers people build between themselves and the world. And the Alarm have a singular ability to touch deep down in your heart for the truth that inevitably lies there.