Monday, August 25, 2025

Show #186 - Louder Than War Radio (25.08.25)

 

I hate it when Liverpool are on Monday Night Football. Matches never finish on time anymore, and full-time seems to creep closer and closer to my show’s 10pm kick-off. Last night against Newcastle was a prime example: constant stoppages, niggling fouls, and the Geordies trying to blend cage fighting into their tactics. By the time I was playing the opening songs, the game was still going.

And then, it happened. In the 100th minute, 16-year-old Rio Ngumoha smashed in the winner for Liverpool. Our youngest ever goalscorer, and only the second 16-year-old in Premier League history to bag a winning goal (after Wayne Rooney). I was leaping around the living room like a teenager who’d just scored it himself. Safe to say, the adrenaline was pumping so hard that it took me a good 20 minutes into the show to settle down – so apologies if I sounded a little jittery. Just like Liverpool, I suppose.

The show kicked off with something rare and a little special: a mash-up from Swansea’s Head In The Shed, who many years back spliced Rage Against The Machine with Colwyn Bay’s Global Parasite. As far as I know, this mix is unavailable online, so you could call it a Crud exclusive – even if it’s a decade or so late! Oh, and happy birthday to Dave Global Parasite Cox.

With England still wrapped up in flag-waving nationalism and road painting, it felt apt to follow that with Mouthparts’ biting Flag Shagger and Anhrefn’s classic Swings a Rowndabouts. Context, people.

From there the set hurtled into old favourites and new bruisers alike: Crass with Rival Tribal Revel Rebel, Yung Rare declaring This Machine Kills Fascists, and CoVid 21 ramping things up with War Whores. Laced between those were gems like Gentleman Jesse’s garage-soaked I Don’t Wanna Know (Where You Been Tonight) and the blistering energy of AKU (Phase Me Out) and Father Stone (The Entertainer).

I’ve been talking up the new Schkeuditzer Kreuz record Swan Grinder recently (check out my review on Louder Than War), and it was great to get Keep Dancing blasting on the airwaves. Dark, dystopian, industrial-punk – one of the year’s strongest underground releases. Also in the spotlight: Scotch Funeral’s latest Ever & Ever (which I reviewed last week), and the new, sadly posthumous Eye Licker album And Now The End Is Here

Later on came a mix of international collaborations and local genius – from Mr Phormula’s bilingual Cymru i India, to the blistering satire of Joe & The Shitboys (Manspredator), and brutal heaviness from Mastiff and the pure comedy yet very clever Rabo De Toro sending up Russ Abbots' Atmosphere.

As always, most of what I play can be found on Bandcamp. So go on – buy the records, support the bands, and if they’re playing anywhere near you, get out and see them. That’s what keeps this whole scene alive.


Playlist – Show 186

  • Global Parasite Vs Rage Against The Machine – Head In The Shed Remix

  • Mouthparts – Flag Shagger

  • Anhrefn – Swings a Rowndabouts

  • Crass – Rival Tribal Revel Rebel

  • Yung Rare – This Machine Kills Fascists

  • CoVid 21 – War Whores

  • Gentleman Jesse – I Don’t Wanna Know (Where You Been Tonight)

  • AKU – Phase Me Out

  • Father Stone – The Entertainer

  • Save Your Breath – Modern Slavery Institution

  • Topper – Newid Er Mwyn Newid

  • WAR//PLAGUE – Sacrifice

  • Schkeuditzer Kreuz – Keep Dancing

  • Mr Phormula – Cymru i India

  • Joe & The Shitboys – Manspredator

  • Eye Licker – Gag Reflex

  • Scotch Funeral – Never See Me Again

  • AM – Co tam słychać?

  • Mastiff – A Story Behind Every Light

  • Rabo De Toro – Atmosphere

Monday, August 18, 2025

Show #185 - Louder Than War Radio (18.08.25)


Back in the hot seat after a week away roaming the continent, I returned to Louder Than War Radio with another full-throttle set of tunes for Show 185. Big thanks go to Wyn, who held the fort in my absence with a cracking show of his own – if you missed it, go back and give it a listen. He’ll be back later in the year to cover for me again, as will Noises From The Bottom Left Corner (who you can usually catch on Louder Than War every Saturday at 4pm). Plenty of able deputies lining up behind me – all these people jockeying for position, eh?

It was a thrill to give Lancaster’s very own TV Face an early spin ahead of their upcoming album. The track Boots Pocket Coffin is as curious as its title – which, incidentally, sounds like a What3Words location. (I did wonder whether one actually exists – and yes, there is indeed a location tagged boots.pocket.coffin in the system! Somewhere in China, as it happens).

Another highlight was Sŵn Y Môr from Scotch Funeral, lifted from their brand-new album Ever & Ever, which is out now on vinyl. The band launched it last Saturday at Rascals in Bangor to a buzzing crowd. Keep your ears to the ground – they’re lining up a Wrexham date with Eitha Da very soon, which promises to be unmissable.

One record I’ve been absolutely loving is the new single from IrkedThe Hardest Man In Billingham. It comes backed with two remarkable covers, which was almost too much temptation for me not to play in full. In the end, I restrained myself and gave the originals a spin instead – Dan Sartain’s Fuck Friday and SuperCharger’s Sooprize Package for Mr. Mineo. Both great tracks in their own right, but I’ll say it here: Irked’s versions are even better. Track them down and you’ll see what I mean.

To round things off, I couldn’t resist giving in to temptation one more time – this time with Pavel Chekov’s stunning Negative Progress EP. Five tracks in five minutes, the whole thing aired back-to-back. Urgent, short, and beautiful – the perfect way to close a show.

See you all next week for Show 186 – but in the meantime, here’s the playlist for this week’s broadcast:


Playlist – Show 185

  • TV Face – Boots Pocket Coffin
    Penny Coffin – March To The Grave
    Scotch Funeral – Sŵn Y Môr
    Spiteful Void – The Corpse of Hope
    Osees – God’s Guts
    Sweetpool – No One Believes Anything Anymore
    Rotunda – I Refuse
    Rotura – Al Otro Lado
    Bowandarrow91 – Surge Of Chaos
    Julius Seizure – I Don’t Get It
    HIATUS – End Is Near
    Mwstard – Scandal Broth
    Irked – The Hardest Man In Billingham
    Dan Sartain – Fuck Friday
    SuperCharger – Sooprize Package for Mr. Mineo
    Mr Phormula – Penill a Paris
    Big Jesse – Dave’s Song
    The Crash Mats – Kirk
    Pavel Chekov – Expropriate 
    Pavel Chekov – Reductionist
    Pavel Chekov – Social Imperialist
    Pavel Chekov – Left Capitalist
    Pavel Chekov – Deteriorate

Saturday, August 16, 2025

7 Countries 7 Days: Luxembourg, Belgium

 

Thursday 14th August 2015 – Luxembourg → Liège

Ahh, air-con. Sometimes it’s the little luxuries that make all the difference. Our room at the Ibis Budget in Parc Bouillon, Luxembourg, may have been stripped down to the bare bones, but at least it had that glorious hum of cold air pushing back against the heatwave outside. The only catch? The place isn’t exactly central — a fair trek to the heart of the city.

Still, we were up and out early, walking twenty minutes into Battembourg for what turned out to be a pretty unsavoury breakfast. But honestly, life’s too short to obsess over the finer details of nutrition. You can Google your way into neurosis, or you can just eat what’s in front of you and accept that one way or another, we’re all going the same way.

From there, the real gift of Luxembourg kicked in: free public transport. Free. Imagine that in the UK! I’d live on buses. (I did read that the Welsh government has introduced £1 travel for 16-21-year-olds — which is something — but still, Luxembourg is in another league.) We hopped on a bus into the city and spent a few hours mooching around in the rising heat.



One of the day’s highlights was stumbling across the Pétrusse Skatepark, sunk into a deep valley with a colossal flyover soaring above. It looked as if someone had air-lifted the Menai Bridge and dropped it into the middle of the city. A little further along, we found a boarded-up church carved into the rockface. Its iron doors were locked, but peering inside we could just make out a surreal video projection of flowers and bees looping on the wall, paired with a spacey soundtrack. Either that, or we had ingested hallucinogens and they were kicking in... (see here)

By midday the sun was merciless, so we retreated to the station in search of shelter on a train. The first departure was for Troisvierges, which sounded promising until we arrived and found… absolutely nothing. Not to be beaten, we boarded another train to Liège. Switzerland might let you ride free once in a while, but once in Belgium they have an exclusive gender: Ticket Inspector, so I coughed up the £30 fare without hesitation.


Just when we thought we were making good time, the day unravelled. Engineering works threw us onto a replacement bus service that crawled through the Belgian countryside. Pretty though the scenery was, the vehicle itself was an oven on wheels, hotter even than the buses I’d sweated through in New Delhi. By the time we finally reached Liège we were medium-to-well-done and into the evening, so any chance of exploring the city today was lost.

At least our apartment in the Walburge neighbourhood was welcoming. After a short taxi ride from the gleaming, space-age train station, we arrived at this homely little flat. Food and beer rounded off the evening. No sightseeing, no late-night wanderings, but after a day of unsavoury breakfasts, surreal churches, and oven-hot buses, home comforts were exactly what we needed.

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

7 Countries 7 Days: Switzerland, France, Luxembourg

 

Tuesday, 12th August 2015 – Zurich → Basel → Strasbourg

I woke up aching today, the arch of my right foot screaming at me with every step. Fine, I thought — I’ll just use the left one instead. We left our rickety old digs in Zurich early and headed for breakfast. By now, we’d settled into a routine: croissant, yoghurt, banana, and fruit juice from the Coop supermarket. We carried it down to the lakeside and spent an hour eating among ducks, gulls, and a couple of aggressive swans.

I’ve got history with angry Swiss swans — a few years back one nearly had me while I was swimming in Lake Geneva — so I kept a wary eye on these two as they hissed their way across the water. Charlie, unfazed, happily munched through his breakfast.

Afterwards, Charlie took over navigation duties, guiding us up the river (five bridges in total) to the station. By 9:30 am the heat was already oppressive. My lack of exercise over the past three weeks was catching up with me; I was flagging badly, muttering curses with each step.

At the station, we jumped on the first train we saw — bound for Basel. Tickets? None. And, remarkably, nobody checked. In a way it felt like poetic justice, a tiny victory against a country where £1.50 just to have a piss is considered normal. No wonder half the shop doorways smell like urinals. And while I’m on the subject of Swiss annoyances — their bloody different plug sockets! At least my super battery pack saved us more than once, otherwise we’d have been stranded with dead phones in a land of eye-watering prices.


From Basel, we quickly decided that Switzerland had drained enough of our wallets and aimed for Strasbourg, France. The French, however, have their own ways of punishing travellers — buying a train ticket onboard costs a premium. So I did the sensible thing and booked online while standing on the platform: £57 for two tickets. Win some, lose more.

By the time we reached Strasbourg, the sun was in full force — 33°C and climbing. Charlie, naturally, asked for another McDonald’s lunch. Nothing says cultural immersion like two Big Macs in two days, but I caved.

Determined to at least walk off some of the shame, I insisted we trek the two miles to our hotel, Hotel Esplanade, in the university quarter. Our route followed the River Ill (yes, that really is its name), crossing over the Rhine before we reached the hotel. By 2 pm we were checked in — I managed it entirely in French, which felt like a small triumph, or an arc de triomphe, if you like.

The room wasn’t much cooler than the outside, but at least it offered a break from the direct sun. We did the classic traveller’s trick of washing our clothes in the shower and hanging them on the windowsill to dry. After a short rest, we braved the heat again and set off into the city for the evening. Strasbourg didn’t disappoint — stunning architecture, buzzing streets, and a warm summer atmosphere that pulled us along.

By the time we stumbled back, our step counter read 17,000 steps for the second day in a row. My right foot wasn’t impressed. Neither was the left, by then.


Wednesday, 13th August 2015 – Strasbourg → Metz → Luxembourg

One thing’s for sure: with all this walking in relentless heat, getting to sleep is never a problem. France is in the grip of a mega heatwave right now, and by the time my head hits the pillow each night, I’m gone. But today I was awake at 6, roused by the buzz of the city outside our Strasbourg hotel. With a couple of quiet hours to kill, I sat plotting our route home for the weekend.

Hindsight is a cruel teacher. Really, I should have booked a return flight from wherever we ended up, then just worked our way there. Instead, this “make it up as we go along” approach has cost a fair few quid. The UK train alone was almost £100 return, and the flight home? A painful £200 from Brussels for the two of us. Handing that much money to Ryanair for a one-hour flight makes my teeth itch — but then again, it was only £15 each to fly out here to Memmingen. Swings and roundabouts, as they say. Or in this case: sixes and seven hundreds.

We checked out of our hotel with a cheerful “au revoir”, then strolled through the bright morning sun to Parc de l’Étoile, where we grabbed a café noir and croissant. The waitress was the spitting image of the French temptress from Fawlty Towers who fancied Basil. A surreal déjà vu moment over breakfast.

From there, we caught a Flixbus to Metz, rattling along in the midday heat. When we arrived, it was 34°C and sweating. Our onward bus was due at 3:30 pm — except, of course, it wasn’t. A delay pushed it to 5:10, giving us a couple of unexpected hours to wander Metz. Turned out to be a gift: the city is gorgeous, with its jaw-dropping cathedral towering over everything. I even risked stepping inside, and to my surprise I wasn’t struck down immediately.


Lunch was from Aldi (cheap, cheerful, effective), washed down with a couple of beers before heading back to the coach park. That’s when the real trouble started. Our bus never came. After an hour of waiting, some Russian kids broke the bad news: there’d been a glitch in the Flixbus app, and the bus had actually left at 4:43. Brilliant. The next one wasn’t until 8:10 pm — from a different stop 10 km north of the city.

Tickets for the bus: £5. The Uber to actually reach the new stop: £25. You can bet Flixbus will be hearing from me when I get home.

By the time we rolled into Luxembourg, night had fallen. I ended up booking another taxi — £32 this time — to get us to our hotel in Livange, a small town south of the city. We’d saved money by booking an Ibis Budget, but by the time I’d added up the taxi fares, I might as well have stayed in central Luxembourg.

Still, for all its stripped-down, bare-bones vibe, our room did at least come with air conditioning. In this heatwave, that felt like five-star luxury.

Sunday, August 10, 2025

7 Countries 7 Days: Germany, Austria, Liechtenstein, Switzerland

 

Memmingen

Saturday, 9th August 2015 – Bangor to Bavaria

This whole adventure started with a bit of an experiment: no fixed itinerary, no plans, just see what happens. The idea was simple — make it up as we go along. Memmingen, our first destination, was chosen almost at random via the Ryanair “Take Me Anywhere” app. Honestly, I had never even heard of it either. That was part of the fun — drop yourself somewhere new, figure it out, and see what happens. To add to the challenge, I also decided I’d try to speak as little English as possible with the locals and communicate in their native language.

The day began at Bangor train station, where groups of girls in sparkly tops were clearly gathering for a big Saturday out in Chester, and, quite nice to see, not a filled lip or false eyelash in sight. Meanwhile, Charlie (age 12) and I had our own plans. Frustratingly, the train fare to Manchester Airport cost more than the flight to Germany, which says everything you need to know about the state of UK rail travel. Our trains aren’t run for passengers — just companies bleeding us dry.

By the time our Ryanair flight landed in Memmingen at 10:30 pm, the heat still clung to the air. Since I had Charlie with me, I had booked us a room at the airport hostel, a no-frills spot right on the grounds. If I’d been on my own, I probably would’ve just wandered into town, grabbed whatever bed I could find, and then found a bar (not necessarily in that order). But with a twelve-year-old in tow, practicality won.


Sunday, 10th August 2015 – Memmingen to Lindau

Morning came, and with it our first surprise: Memmingen on a Sunday is like a Tesco sushi bar — so quiet it’s practically in a coma. No shops open, no supermarkets open, no nothing. Religion still rules here in deepest Bavaria, and Sundays feel like Christmas Day or Easter Sunday back home. Honestly, it’s not a bad thing… unless you need to buy suncream in 30°C searing heat.

We did eventually stumble across a coffee shop, where we broke a 14-hour fast with some bread piled high with cheese, tomato, and sauerkraut. Continental, tasty, and predictably overpriced. Our table companions were less than ideal — a squadron of persistent wasps that buzzed around like self-appointed guardians. They would, as it turned out, follow us almost everywhere.

The town itself was pleasant but sleepy, so after a play in the local park, we decided to shake things up. Our original plan this morning had been to grab a night bus to Strasbourg or Stuttgart, but then we spotted a train and thought: “Why not?” That became the theme of this trip — leap first, plan later.

Lindau

The train rolled through Swiss-lookalike landscapes: clean, pristine, a log-chopper’s paradise. Eventually, we found ourselves in Lindau, a small jewel on the shores of Lake Constance (Bodensee). It was beautiful — and expensive. The lake shimmered in the heat, and we couldn’t resist diving in for a swim. Floating in those cool alpine waters with the mountains in the distance was life affirming


Dornbirn
Dornbirn, Austria – A Different World

With the cheapest accommodation in Lindau starting above £100 it was decided to take another short hop via train (didn't buy a ticket), which took us over the border into Austria. In Dornbirn, we grabbed a salad bar dinner from the local Coop supermarket and ate it in the company of the local drunks who had claimed the station benches as their own. (Every town has them — I’m still trying to work out the collective noun. A stumble of drunks? A blur? A cheer?)

Our digs for the night was an Airbnb apartment on the 4th floor. A family home, run by Walter (Austrian) and Alexandria (Peruvian). They turned out to be the kind of hosts who remind me why I travel this way in the first place. Friendly, curious, and generous, they gave us a little window into their lives — the sort of cultural exchange you’ll never find in a hotel.

Our room was basic but comfortable with an alpine view, though the fan struggled to push the hot air around enough to keep us cool. Still, after the long, sun-soaked day, it didn’t take much for Charlie and me to drift into sleep, knowing the adventure was just beginning.

Three Countries Before Lunch

Monday, 11th August 2015 – Dornbirn → Liechtenstein → Switzerland → Zurich

We rolled out of bed around 9 am after a warm night in Dornbirn. A quick morning chat with our host Walter, then out into the already-blazing heat of Austria. Breakfast was our now-standard travel combo: croissant, yoghurt, banana, and fruit juice from the local supermarket. We perched ourselves on a pavement and ate as the Austrian world bustled quietly around us. Simple food, but it did the job.

From Dornbirn, we caught a [free] train to Feldkirch, and from there hopped onto a free [as in, we didn't buy a ticket] bus that wound its way into Schaan, Liechtenstein. What to say about Liechtenstein? If Memmingen had been sleepy yesterday, Schaan had taken a sedative. The place was hot, quiet, almost too neat for its own good. But it was stunningly beautiful — surrounded on three sides by the Alps, every corner framed like a work of art. We had a coffee in a small café, used the toilets (a bold move for which I’ll spare the details), and then wandered the empty streets for a while.

Schaan

Another bus (£3) later and we were in Buchs, Switzerland — just ten minutes over the border. That made it three countries before lunch. This little corner of Europe doesn’t do cheap, though. At Charlie’s request we ventured into McDonald’s. Normally I avoid the golden arches like the plague, but credit where it’s due: the curried veg burger was actually tasty — far better than the cardboard patties they serve in the UK. Still, £27 for two meals left me wondering if we’d accidentally ordered gold-plated fries.

From there, we boarded a train bound for Zurich. It wasn’t cheap either (£51), but what a ride. The train trundled along the southern edge of Lake Zurich, where holidaymakers were making summer memories on the water while the mountains rose dramatically behind them. It was one of those “wow” journeys that reminds you why you put up with the blistering heat, the expense, and the constant legwork.

Zurich 

Zurich itself turned out to be just as impressive. The city has a real wow factor, with elegant architecture, rivers, and green parks. We had about five hours to explore and soaked up as much as possible. Even stopped off at The Nelson pub for a beer (me) and a coke (Charlie) — though £15 for two drinks did sting a little.

Our accommodation was an Airbnb in the Seefeld area, north of the lake. An elderly man named Patrick greeted us on behalf of our host, he's a Swiss choirmaster who also doubled as a church organist. Patrick showed us around the house, which turned out to be the oldest in Seefeld — full of character, every floorboard creaking as if it had a story to tell. He asked if I liked music, and I resisted the urge to mention that I once wrote a song called Paedo Death Church. Probably for the best.

Patrick also suggested that if we cancelled the booking online and paid him £55 in cash, it would be cheaper. But it meant a trek to a cash machine in the sweltering heat, and with 17,000 steps already on the clock and a sore arch in my foot (plantar fasciitis? must look that up), I opted to leave things as they were. This, at the point of exhaustion was the most sensible choice.

By the time evening came, Charlie and I were wiped out. My friend Wyn was covering my Monday night Louder Than War radio show, but we didn’t make it to air time. Sleep claimed us before the first track. We’ll catch up tomorrow.

Three countries, 17,000 steps, blistering heat, and one creaky old Swiss house. Not a bad Monday.

Monday, August 04, 2025

Show #183 - Louder Than War Radio (04.08.25)

Neil Crud on Louder Than War Radio, Mondays at 10pm

Another Week, Another Show – and One Vinyl Sold!


This week’s show delivered everything from fierce punk blasts to bilingual hip-hop, with a healthy dose of nostalgia thrown in for good measure. And mission accomplished – one of our lovely listeners (and he is really lovely) grabbed a vinyl copy of Street Hassle by Puffer after I spun a track from it. That’s me on the Static Shock Records Christmas card list this year… maybe even a mug?

Puffer are I think from Australia, tho I could be wide of the mark. Street Hassle, out via the ever-reliable Static Shock Records, is as frantic and jagged as it is compelling. If you haven’t checked it out yet – do.

It was also brilliant to revisit Crapsons' gloriously brash 'Fuck Off...Again' – the Wirral-based trio mix humour, anger, and commentary in a way few can. Catch them at Rebellion Festival this year – always a riot, never a letdown.

Looking ahead, I was excited to share a track from the upcoming Mr Phormula album 'Cymraeg Worldwide', out August 15th. 'Celtiaidd Lydaweg' is a standout – fusing Welsh and French, with what sounds like a hint of Breton in the mix too. Mr Phormula is a true pioneer of Welsh-language hip-hop, blending boom-bap beats with lightning-fast flow and multilingual flair. Don't sleep on this one.

Had a bit of a Welsh wave early on too with two brilliant flashbacks:

  • Genod Droog’s ‘Gwn Tatws’ – always a thrill. A supergroup of sorts from the early 2000s Welsh-language scene, blending hip-hop and funk with tongue-in-cheek Porthmadog attitude.

  • Gruff Rhys’ ‘Gwn Mi Wn’ – sublime in a very different way. One of Gruff’s finest solo moments, full of surreal warmth and poetic flair.

Also had to dig out Blitz’s Propaganda – originally released in 1982, but its message feels just as biting today. That lyric:

"I can see many reds underneath my bed, but the fascists in my letterbox are messing up my head"
Still hits, 43 years on.

Closed the show with a classic from Y Cyrff – 'Cymru, Lloegr a Llanrwst'. A perfect homage to the People's Republic of Llanrwst and a reminder of the vibrant energy of the Welsh alternative scene in the ‘80s. Before frontman Mark Roberts went on to form Catatonia, Y Cyrff laid the groundwork and did all the hard work for Welsh-language rock to go mainstream.

That's it from me for this week – Wyn will be sitting in for me next Monday, so please tune in, support, and make him feel welcome!

Until next time – diolch!

Moscow Death Brigade - It's Us
Genod Droog - Gwn Tatws
Gruff Rhys - Gwn Mi Wn
All Consumed - Upon the Altar
Blitz - Propaganda
AKU - Phase Me Out
The Bordellos - You Vagabond You
ChePaa - La Rage
Mr Phormula - Celtiaid Llydaweg (ft Plouz & Foen)
WORN OUT - Deeper
Fucking Angry - Fuck Off
Crapsons - Fuck Off…Again
Body Maintenance - Broken Sculptures
Joe & The Shitboys - Drugs R’4 Kidz
Bruise Control - Bottom Feeder
Puffer - I’m Out
El Toro - I Wanna Know
AMASS - Gamekeepers Gallows
Sona - Gone But Not Forgotten
Y Cyrff - Cymru, Lloegr a Llanrwst