HUSKER DU
Camden Palace

THERE WAS something beautiful about the way
Husker Du's vibrant wall of noise swept through the
hallowed confines of the Camden Palace. And
something very ugly, too.
   A US trio lost on a mission to Europe turn up in a
blazing sideshow, churning out a Frankenstein
formula of Buffalo Springfield and the Monkees,
grated unceremoniously through a mesh fence owned
by The Ramones, Frank Zappa and later icons such as
Flipper and The Swans.
   Husker Du produced 17 minutes of pure noise, yet
at the drop of a hat came up shining through a rancid
version of the Byrds' 'Eight Miles High'. Why, they'd
already manhandled 'Ticket To Ride'.
   As you can tell, there's something more to these
cats than meets the eye. Swirling spirals of sound,
punching drums and throbbing bass are brought to
life by an uncompromising guitar and the sweetest of
sugar-free harmonies. Husker Du are a lot more
accessible than you might ever have imagined and,
after four breakneck encores, there wasn't a dry leg in
the house.
   The mightily responsive congregation fell like
lemmings from the first few thundering chords. As the
heritage of rock 'n' roll disappeared in a storm of
smoke bombs, flickering lights and rampant guitar
heroics, the Du shone through with a barrage of
sound that Throbbing Gristle would have been proud
of.
   And on top? Cream and scream again at the almost 
discordant melodrama which existed in the vocal
interplay. Classic stuff. Like seeing the Dead circa '72,
though the four and a half hour jamboree now lasts
but a mere half hour.
                                                  DAVE HENDERSON


HUSKER DU: twilight zone