If you only know Black Flag from the reference in the Ataris’ cover of “Boys of Summer” then you’re probably too young to understand hardcore. Slip It In is the SoCal punk icons’ fourth record, and it perches ominously on the intersection of DC hardcore and British metal, foreshadowing the thrash scene that would emerge largely in their wake (see Anthrax, Among the Living, 1987).
Slip It In really is a signpost in the evolution of heavy music. Punk had died, ignobly, with the commercial success of the Clash and Johnny Rotten turning to dancier fare (Public Image Ltd.). The alternative to the radio left was metal, which was really an outgrowth of the excess that punk had decried in the first place (after all, Black Sabbath was still on tour). Hardcore sprang up in that void with two primary voices: the DC scene, exemplified by Minor Threat’s sharp, staccato politics with barked vocals and fast, tight guitars; and the SoCal / LA scene, where Black Flag and the Circle Jerks made something a bit thicker, meatier, and more muscular.
Enough history (if you’re still curious about the scene check out The Decline of Western Civilization, an excellent film documenting the LA punks in 1980). The record itself isn’t quite hardcore, but isn’t metal either. The pace is fast but not breakneck. The songs are very long for hardcore (averaging about 5 minutes, “You’re Not Evil” clocking in at 7:10), and Greg Ginn plays some very wanky solos throughout (not that he was a bad guitarist at this point, he’s just clearly still evolving). Unbelievably, Ginn even drops an instrumental – “Obliteration” – smack in the middle of the album; isn’t that what the punks hated Zep and Rush for? Henry Rollins finally contributes to Black Flag’s songwriting in a meaningful way, and his lyrics – while sometimes inane and simple (“I’m burning, my soul is pushed against the bars / the bars / the lies / are trapped behind my eyes”) open a realm of inner monologue that would make Black Flag speak to a whole generation of punks (and their kids, once he hit the spoken word scene). Between the two, it’s pretty easy to see where Slip It In made the energy, introspection, and long guitar solos of Master of Puppets possible.
Unfortuntely, as a record it simply doesn’t hold up after all these years. For a start, the production is terrible. I understand that it’s a DIY record from 1984, but if Ian MacKaye could make Minor Threat sound so crisp the year before then Black Flag should at least be able to make their vocals audible. Rollins – when you can hear him – often comes off as pedantic, crossing the line from heartfelt and earnest to unimaginative and preachy (or just irritating. See “Rat’s Eyes”). About the only thing that’s clean and clear on Slip It In is Ginn’s guitar solos, and frankly he just isn’t good enough to make that a selling point for Black Flag.
At the end of the day, Slip It In is a transition record. It’s the point where Rollins really starts to take over the band, the point where Ginn really tries to emerge as a guitarist, and the point where hardcore was starting to show the limitations of its genre. While it has some good moments (“Slip It In” is actually a really good track, and foreshadows a lot of where Rollins would go when he split from Black Flag), the album largely fails because it’s on the precipice of so many different kinds of greatness without quite fulfilling any of them.
Final Grade: C+ (but an A if this were still 1984). Download “Slip It In” and then go listen to their first album, Damaged, or the truly experimental Family Man.
Your Shitty Record Won't Review Itself 