Some bands are better as a momentary flash than a career-sustaining slow-burn. (For the former, Joy Division, the Sex Pistols; the latterm, Nick Cave, Tom Waits.) There’s room for both in the world of course and maybe some things are better left transitory.
The Plot’s time on Earth was brief yet vigorous. Their second record, Love in the Fascist Brothel, is a testament to how hard they burned. The band’s vibrant, nasty, antifascist splatter-punk feels like a thing that shouldn’t go on forever, feels like a thing that needs to blaze out and leave the lawn scorched.
This is the sound of freedom, youth, and invention. The record also feels like a Plot show—which those lucky enough to have caught will remember as trashy, sarcastic, ecstatic, and gloriously disastrous.
Released by Three One G a day after Valentine’s 17 years ago, this is the final major statement from a band that will never grow old.
–Adam Gnade, author of the novel After Tonight, Everything Will Be Different