Our last LP "Paperback Ghosts" was a deliberate accident to make a "mood" record of slower, softer, sadder songs – and as anyone will tell you, every band should retaliate to make conflict with their last LP. So the plan was to make a record of short, sharp POP SONGS with one take electric abandon. A mix of Nerves/Monkees/Buzzcocks/Remains nuggets, so we started doing that.
Then the world turned darker and dumber so the songs and words got angrier and fuzzier: a bunch of songs about the losers and desperate and hopeful smiles in the moronic death wish culture grave. Anti-moron and anti-religion and for the fireraisers and troublemakers and daydreamers with nothing in their pockets.
Then after three LPs that all sounded and walked different paths we decided to place each song in an envelope and throw them in the air and catch about 14 of them and make a patchwork LP of all, and that's what we did. Then the lovely people at Tapete came and we handed them this: a bunch of songs we intended to record fast and with feeling, accidents as important as the meant parts, recorded first with James of Ultimate Painting/The Proper Ornaments, then worked and finished by MJ Taylor of the group who has produced our better records with the beat of the broken street in mind.
The first volley from the sessions is the 45 of IF NOT TOMORROW / I WAS MORE OF A MESS THEN - two songs from the initial short pop song LP. Jigsaw messages from a past half remembered and lessons not learnt running with the meteor teen punks and doofus hearted, crazed and aflame and learning nothing and everything. And a song from one of the aforementioned losers, the fucked over majority. The only hope of the future dirt is that the hope the daily magicians carry on their burdened backs and breaking hearts will one day - tomorrow if possible - be rewarded.
The LP to follow has songs about Victor Jara and all the students and teachers and poets buried with bullet holes because they believed in life, about werewolf jackets, burning tower blocks, local groups of suburban Rosicrucians starting psychic wars against the state, anthems against the moron-isation of the world, and girls with melted minds and their fears of the open door. About fireraisers being those that know to tear down the moron empire that's making a coffin for the future you have to burn their palaces to the ground, raising fire and trouble, and love and some kind of prayer that the cinders will begat flowers. Simple ideas that the band have always held using simple songs and simple ways to elucidate these hieroglyphs of defiance and empathy because these are needed now more than ever and the apathy around us is depressing.
Bands and songs seem content to explore nothing but ambition and bullshit, so though nothing here is original or worth a damn. We'd rather scream into the void than admire our hair in the mirror.
Comet Gain is a band and an ideal and an exercise in futile dreaming, and though things change we are unafraid to remain the same ripped up dumb organism, and we are proud to have made this particular angry, heartbroken, excited, romantic scream to the stereos of those that want it.