Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 7/10
There seems little in the 21st century that is not revealed, the mysteries and questions are forever exposed along the way, the soundtrack of the decade one of continual release and snatches of what might have been. Even with the once daunting prospect of being banned from audience consumption holding sway over contracts and court action firmly against the artist’s throat, tying their hands behind their back and scowling into the future as if mugged by a television bishop fiddling with his cross whilst offering platitudes and careworn phrases of self-concern. It seems thankfully we can say with a wry smile and danger in our voices to those who censor our words, You don’t know nothing about it.
In the act of accepting censorship, we allow others to deny us our voice, we defer to those who see all and refuse our peek behind the velvet curtain because we believe that it is for our benefit, we are treated as children forbidden to stay up late to see the moon at midnight and then treated as fools for not questioning that such a time exists.
You Don’t Know Nothing About is such a case of being able to see past midnight and into the early hours, past the banning order and the murmurings behind closed doors; one that sees the belief in fighting for all your worth to have your vision presented before your peers, no matter how they respond to its message.
For Saltwater Injection, the creation that was entangled in legal dogma finally been able to see the light of day, and whilst the film itself that they supplied the soundtrack for remains unseen, the music, the dialogue, is now able to be recognised as such. However, these are not so much songs as they are perceived images, slices and segments caught between the film image the listener has to weave into place, and tracks such as Gob, I Hate You MF’s, What Would GG Do, Ernie Mate and Bitch. Eat. Shit., that imagination is given a sense of depth that would have otherwise been placed with the inescapable image forever seared into the public’s conscious.
By giving it free reign outside the picture, the soundscape is one that would be adept at seizing the emotion, the complexity of the storyline is seen through its aural sculpture, a scream in the night that has no body in which it came from, the floating illustration one of abandoned danger and close call fear.
To be denied a voice is to suffer, to bring it to life after many years of being stifled and closed is to let loose the rage, and rightly so, for Saltwater Injection, the music has more meaning because of it.
Ian D. Hall