by John Dougan
There is an old expression about a blind pig finding a chestnut now and again, and that certainly rings true when addressing the overnight phenomenon known as the Anti-Nowhere League. Fronted by a codpiece-wearing goon of a lead singer with questionable personal hygiene who went by the name Animal, the League somehow managed to release one vulgar, loud, stupid, funny, thoroughly great EP, but hung around like a bunch of talentless louts who never got the message to clear off. Playing standard, raunchy, Sex Pistols-influenced punk rock, Animal cranked up the disgust factor either by uttering a string of obscenities or boasting about his indiscriminate taste in partners (including animals) in sexual intercourse. Like a punk parody worthy of Nick Lowe, the League actually got a lot of press when it looked as though their record was going to be banned in England and, or so it was whispered at the time, the U.S. Fortunately, it wasnt, and the grubby glory of this group of shameless yobs became ours to cherish. They did record a few full-length albums (including a live one recorded in Yugoslavia), and all are worthless.
