It's almost 1980. Soho, New York, is fertile with young, no-wave punks getting sharper and increasingly angular: Branca, DNA, Teenage Jesus, Contortions, Suicide, et al, as well as the groups they would spawn. Coveted and revered bands for many today, this music was peripheral at the time. Unheard by most save for the underbelly, these were artists living free and dirty, trying to outdo each other. Within the periphery of this periphery, Social Climbers made sounds that were of their environs yet remarkably unique, leaving an indelible stamp on the scene while somehow managing to slither undetected out of all the history books. A downtown New York art band as much as any other, Social Climbers also claimed midwestern roots and actual musicianship that many of their contemporaries lacked, and in trade dismissed and essentially protested the snotty pretensions that drove many others within the scene. Social Climbers are an absolute post-punk blueprint: fat bass (often two), guitar, drum machine (dubbed "the monkey"), feverish vocals, and organ. Their lone, self-titled album is agitated and impossibly wild, yet danceable and composed.
item # 33405