What’s up Sorry Staters? I hope everyone has been holding up alright. Things have been busy for me with Jeff gone. He’s a total workhorse, so getting all his work covered while he’s not here is a challenge. I apologize if the newsletter has felt thin for the past few weeks. Partly that’s me having more to do, and partly it’s because I’ve been focusing on other parts of Sorry State. Running Sorry State often feels like struggling with a half-inflated balloon… when I get a handle on one part of it, the air gets pushed to another part and that gets out of control. If I’m really on the ball with the newsletter, no doubt I’ve gotten behind on ordering new stock or doing accounting or some other thing that needs to get done. I used to fantasize about perfecting a workflow that kept everything in check, but lately I’ve been more at peace with the idea that I can’t spread my attention evenly across everything that needs it.
No doubt part of the reason I haven’t been writing as much for the newsletter is that I’ve been struggling with burnout. I’ve learned to recognize when this is happening because I stop listening to as much music. When I get home at night, rather than throwing a record, I prefer to sit in silence, maybe reading or meditating. I’ve also been playing a lot of solitaire on my iPad, which I find relaxing. It’s such a pointless activity, but that’s kind of what I like about it. I can do it quickly or slowly, and it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes I win and sometimes I don’t, and I just have to accept that. Putting in more effort won’t help me get more out of it, so it reminds me to kind of let go. My brain likes to turn everything into some grand, goal-oriented project, but solitaire resists that mindset, which I think is good for me.
Even though I haven’t been listening to music as much as I normally do, I’m still listening to a lot by any other standard than my own. Aside from the Steröid LP that I’m still spinning regularly (Zack at the 185 Miles South podcast put it perfectly when he said there’s something weirdly comforting about this album, like a warm blanket), the record I’ve been getting the most pleasure from is this 1982 12” from Spain’s La Broma De Ssatán.
La Broma De Ssatán: S/T 12” (Victoria, 1982)
While I don’t think this is an unknown record by any stretch of the imagination, it’s one I can’t remember hearing anyone talk about before. I think I discovered it on some late-night internet research deep dive and added it to my “to listen” list. It usually takes several months (at minimum) for me to actually listen to something I add to that list, and then it takes a few listens before I decide whether I like it enough to add it to my vinyl want list. And then who knows how long it’ll take for a copy to pop up. So I probably checked this record out many months, if not years, ago. By the time a copy appeared on Discogs, I didn’t really remember what it sounded like, but I was buying something else from the seller. I decided to trust whatever former version of myself added this to my want list and pulled the trigger. I’m glad I did.
La Broma De Ssatán was from Madrid, Spain and formed in the late 70s. This 1982 12” EP was the only thing they released during the band’s original run. With seven songs in under 15 minutes, it’s a lean, no-nonsense affair. It’s funny, there are so many of these short-ass 45 RPM 12”s these days that I associate that format with the current era of DIY punk and hardcore, but there were a lot of short and sweet EPs in the 80s too. This record reminds me of records like TSOL’s first 12”, Kohu-63’s Valtaa Ei Loistoa, or Dead Kennedys In God We Trust, Inc. All those bands have full albums, and while the aforementioned EPs can feel one-dimensional in comparison, there’s something to be said for how the EPs distill the respective bands’ sounds to a more potent essence. Since La Broma De Ssatán didn’t release any other music, it’s hard to say whether this 12” offers a limited view of their sound, but it has the same kind of focused intensity I associate with those other classic punk 12” EPs.
With mostly sub-2-minute songs that are uniformly fast yet tuneful, La Broma De Ssatán’s 12” hits that perfect fuzzy spot between punk and hardcore. I hear similarities to Bad Religion’s How Could Hell Be Any Worse, but as with a lot of punk bands from Spain, I definitely hear the Clash’s influence on La Broma De Ssatán. The last track, “Vete A Morir A El Salvador” reminds me of “Capitol Radio,” but all the songs are tough and hooky in a way that will appeal to anyone who loves the Clash’s first album. The production here is a lot clearer, though, reminding me of the minimally-produced, live-sounding early 80s recordings I love so much. There’s only one guitar track and nothing is super distorted, which really helps show off the band’s playing. La Broma De Ssatán had been around for a few years by the time they recorded this record, and it shows. Not only is their playing tight and powerful, but also each musician really understands their role in the band and how best to serve the song. Notice how the bassist builds tension with a cool little fill right before the chorus to “Conflicto Mundial,” which really amplifies the chorus’s power. Most songs also start with a hooky little guitar riff (the one on the first song, “Terrorismo Autorizado,” kind of nods to “Pretty Vacant”), which reminds me of the way so many great 60s nuggets kick off. While the production is minimal, at their core La Broma De Ssatán’s songs are tightly constructed pop tunes.
I didn’t learn much about La Broma De Ssatán in my research (I’m sure a Spanish speaker would have better luck), but one factoid I gleaned is that the group was unhappy with this record’s artwork. That surprised me at first because I love the artwork… if I had flipped past this in a bin, I’d definitely want to hear it even if I knew nothing about it. Thinking about it more, though, I guess I get it. The band has been working on these songs for years, and I’m sure they wanted artwork that looked powerful and classic, but the record label intervenes and gives them… a drawing of a punk house cat with goofy, sub-Fast Times at Ridgemont High lettering. I love how it’s such a time capsule, though. And in the label’s defense, when this was released on Radikal 1977 Records in 2009 with band-approved artwork, their design did not exactly blow me away.
It’s crazy to me that some 30 years into buying punk records, I still regularly find bands and records like that that I’ve never heard of and are so killer. If this one sounds interesting to you, I strongly recommend giving it a quick listen on youtube. See ya in the bins!