FOREWORD: The Mekons have been around forever, it seems. And they continue to release albums and work with many respected underground artists. Led by mainstays Jon Langford and Tom Greenhalge, the Mekons intuitively incorporate folk and country into righteous political punk. I’ve watched them perform at CBGB, Bowery Ballroom, and Mercury Lounge over the years. And they’ve always hit the spot.

Remarkably, Langford’s found time to be involved in ‘90s-initiated bands, the Waco Brothers and Pine Valley Cosmonauts, as well as sassy ‘80s crew, the Three Johns. Living in Chicago for a long spell, British-born Langford’s paintings have been displayed at Maxwells in Hoboken and been used as artwork for seminal Delaware microbrewery, Dogfish Head. This article originally appeared in Aquarian Weekly.

The term ‘underground rock’ might as well have been coined specifically to describe legendary underrated band the Mekons. Relying more on rootsy folk and rural country than just amateur ambition and flailing guitars, this Leeds combo bridged the gap separating British pub rockers Brinsley Schwarz, Love Sculpture, and Ducks Deluxe from late ‘70s punk nihilists the Sex Pistols and the Clash.

Founders Jon Langford (vocals/ guitar/ melodica) and Tom Greenhalgh (guitar/ piano/ autoharp), plus charter members Sally Timms (vocals), Susie Honeyman (fiddle), Rico Bell (accordion), Sarah Corina (bass) and Steve Goulding (drums), have maintained a respectable cult following by making consistently compelling albums while continually riling against new age rhetoric.

From its mellow, Old World fiddle ballad, “Myth,” to its chanted closer, “Last Night On Earth,” the understated 12-song Journey To The End Of The Night (Quarterstick) further refines the Mekons ambitious sound. Timms’ quivering voice counters Langford’s cigarette-stained baritone on both the pristine orchestration “Last Weeks Of The War” and the anthemic “Cast No Shadow.” She soars majestically on the ominous lament “City Of London,” then solemnly purrs through the cinematic trip-hop noir of “The Flood.” The accordion-laced “Neglect” comes closest to capturing the sinister folkloric revelations of their early Sin recordings while the atonal autoharp confessional “Out In The Dark” (featuring Langford’s gravelly, laryngitis-affected growl) appears in its raw demo form.

The Mekons astonishing canon includes ‘85s Fear & Whiskey, ‘86s The Edge of the World, ‘88s So Good It Hurts, and ‘93s I Love Mekons, to name a few faves. A short stint with major label A & M resulted in the staggering Mekons Rock ’n’ Roll and the quirky “F.U.N.” EP, but never afforded the combo the mass exposure they so rightly deserved. Timms has recorded a few swell country-imbibed discs in her spare time while Langford moonlights in the Pine Valley Cosmonauts and the Waco Brothers (and spent time during the ‘80s in the fabulous Three Johns). For a neat compilation of demos, remixes, and lost tracks, try the recently issued two volume Hen’s Teeth.

How’d you become interested in pursuing music full time?

TOM GREENHALGH: Before punk happened, I never really thought it was possible to be in a band. But when we heard punk, we thought some of us could do that.

JON LANGFORD: I was playing in bands since I was 15 because when you’re playing football, it’s all guys. We’d do cover versions of Black Sabbath and Hawkwind. In ‘77, with the Sex Pistols, the Clash, and the Damned, possibilities seemed unlimited. The shockwave was so great because everyone was affected by it. It’s so different now. Things happen now and nobody ever knows. Everyone’s looking in different directions. The major labels suck so bad.

The latest album benefits from a certain restraint.

JON: We restrained ourselves from recording it too fast and putting stuff on we wouldn’t be happy with – which we do sometimes when we run out of money. We thought about it a little more. The album hangs together tight. Different styles filter through the band, but the tone of the album may be stylistically different from song to song. There’s a pitch to it that’s pretty level. But we never made up our minds and said ‘this one is going to be a reggae (number).’ We never really jam.

How do the Mekons latest songs generally come about?

JON: This album has some simple melodic ideas that were pretty specific. We got Kelly Hogan, Neko Case, and Edith Frost in to record for only one evening. But that set off the album quite nicely because we were concentrating a lot more on vocals. There was a specific movement with this record to write songs that were more personal, confessional, and immediately engaging. I like songs I can sit and play on acoustic guitar. But that bloke from Wire, Bruce Gilbert, said ‘I can’t understand why you have a need for songs anymore.’ He thinks it’s year zero and with techno it’s obsolete to carry a guitar. I don’t like the idea of people thinking we’re too old to rock. That’s why people get into the folk thing. You could do that until you’re very old. It’s a career move. We’re all gonna peak when we’re 65.

Is it more comforting being on a respectable indie label rather than a corporate major?

JON: We’re finally turning the corner and making money. The majors are really unpleasant. You get a lot of people poking around in your life. It’s much easier now. There’s absolutely no pressure on us. I hope the majors go out of business. Internet access is fine but I worry about its faddishness. I think it will wither and drop off. I’m worried about corporations hiring all these drones to extract money from internet technology. We don’t see a need to go to a studio to record our next album when we can record at home now.

How’d you become interested in pursuing music full time?

TOM GREENHALGH: Before punk happened, I never really thought it was possible to be in a band. But when we heard punk, we thought some of us could do that.

JON: I was playing in bands since I was 15 because when you’re playing football, it’s all guys. We’d do cover versions of Black Sabbath and Hawkwind. In ‘77, with the Sex Pistols, the Clash, and the Damned, possibilities seemed unlimited. The shockwave was so great because everyone was affected by it. It’s so different now. Things happen now and nobody ever knows. Everyone’s looking in different directions. The major labels suck so bad.

Tell me about the reggae-splashed “Tina,” which seems to be a politically motivated song?

JON: It was just some bits of words that got pushed around and re-arranged well. Tina means There Is No Alternative. That’s the Margaret Thatcher/ Tony Blair slogan. It’s like nothing else will work so this is the way to do things. It’s very anti-democratic. You do think the world will get better, but through socialism eventually. But the corporate people are changing quicker than the people on the left. They’ve moved the goal posts so far. We don’t need chest beating right wingers going on about immigration. They’re an anachronism. You don’t have to say you hate immigrants, you just fuck them over. The right clings to the idea that it’s about the nation’s state when it’s really about corporations. It was amazing when the apartheid struggle ended in South Africa and Nelson Mandela was freed. But it was a battle that had already been fought.

Would you consider yourselves anarchists or existentialists?

JON: I’m definitely a socialist in a broad sense in believing society should take responsibility. In America, the baby boomers were afraid they’d get drafted for Viet Nam, so rich kids protested. When the war was over, they weren’t radicals.

TOM: We have a suspicion against subscribing to one notion of democracy. There’s no need for people to die of poverty. People take for granted that society has to rely on Thatcherism.

-John Fortunato