What first drew me to Mission of Burma 20 years ago – and ultimately, what has kept me interested in their sphere of influence is their seemingly limitless capacity to convey urgency. The music emanating from the Boston quartet was, from its nexus in the early 1980s, driven, crucial, and even a generation of imitators hasn’t diminished what has been a hallmark.
Released years after their passing, the Horrible Truth About Burma is a glimmering, jitter-jumbled guitar filled example of why Mission of Burma came and went too quickly. An absolutely phenomenal live set recorded over five dates in their farewell tour, the songs have all the glorious tension of conjugal sex: everyone in the room knows its going to be short lived, but don’t give a damn.
The requisite hit tracks (“That’s When I Reach For My Revolver”) sound like tough wood splinters live, while songs that fell seemingly safely under the radar – at least to my, thought to be practiced MOB ear – like “Tremelo” and “Peking Spring” turn to instant contenders for favorite recordings.
By the time the Horrible Truth is over, the feeling that Mission of Burma was the true avatars of punk’s first wave becomes a staggering, seemingly undeniable reality.
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