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0:00:00 [01] Romanchisuto (ロマンチスト, Romanticist) 0:02:12 [02] STOP JAP 0:04:02 [03] Gokuraku Tonbo (極楽トンボ, Happy-Go-Lucky) 0:04:48 [04] Tama Negi Batake (玉ネギ畑, Onion Field) 0:07:19 [05] Sōsēji no Medama (ソーセージの目玉, Sausage Eyeballs) 0:08:33 [06] Gesuidō no Petenshi (下水道のペテン師, Swindler in the Sewer) 0:10:28 [07] Arerugī α (アレルギーα, Allergy A) 0:11:23 [08] Yokujō (欲情, Lust) 0:13:07 [09] MONEY 0:16:39 [10] STOP GIRL 0:20:35 [11] Bakuretsu Heddo (爆裂ヘッド, Burst Head) 0:23:15 [12] MISER 0:26:02 [13] Makeinu (負け犬, Coward) 0:28:04 [14] Arerugī β (アレルギーβ, Allergy B) 0:28:59 [15] Warushawa no Gensō (ワルシャワの幻想, Fantasy of Warsaw) 0:34:46 [16] LIGHT MY FIRE 0:36:42 [17] NO FUN 0:39:40 [18] YOU 0:43:09 [19] Nebā Maindo Za Borokkasu (ネバー・マインド・ザ・ボロッカス, Nevermind the Bollocks) Ever since I first heard the「ロマンチスト」single, I've known that The Stalin were one of the great luminaries of the hardcore and art punk movements, with an incredible sense for crafting brain-worming melodies, entropic chaos, and haunting, elegant, grotesque, exhilarating lyrics which explored in great depth “The Stalin“: behind every perfect, beautiful idea that could save mankind from itself lies a horrific, disgraceful downside. Halos of spent human existence bellow out of the smokestacks of Warsaw like toasts to destitution; mama country and papa dictator betray you just as all of your fellow man in a nation of disarray, and so too your own mother and father; after the words of Nietzsche influence the world to send human beings to the gas chambers and split atoms over the heads of a million all we say is “Bye-Bye Nietzsche, but it was fun, so let's play again sometime!“; personalities and sanity draining out of the minds of subjugated people as they are sentenced to perform the same mundane routine of picking white onions in Kolkhoz until their final onion-breath is spent from their lungs; every proposed solution from the anarchist, nationalist, Stalinist, opportunist, stylist, formalist, liberalist, humanist, socialist, -ist, -ist, -ist, -ist, will only fill those who subscribe with fleeting romantic visions as they fail miserably and find reality only further wrecked for their passions; the pulsing heart at the core of the artist and the dictator are revealed as one and the same tragedy; and at the darkest depths of it, in secret, the greatest, most haunting disgrace of it all: in the intimate dead of night, in the arms of the one we call our soul mate, we have forgotten what it means to love. It's all there. This is not only one of the greatest hardcore bands, punk bands, or 80's bands, they are simply one of the greatest bands of all time, held back only by the fact that their language is often an alienating one to the western world, thus they remain consigned to their obscure place in the recesses of hardcore punk and ero-guro aficionado notoriety, with perhaps some passing interest from the rare otaku, and largely left in Japan's own hyper-modernist dust -- always seen as a bit too offensive for one extreme and a bit too artsy for the other in their native country to begin with. Stop Jap Naked doesn't solve the issue that ザ・スターリン will likely never get their due credit. It does, however, bring the sounds of the seminal classic to an entirely new level, morphing Stop Jap's greatest --「ロマンチスト」, 「STOP JAP」,「 アレルギーα」,「爆裂ヘッド」,「ワルシャワの幻想」-- into magnificent, brain-bashing sonic feats, propelling already classic songs to universal “EVERYONE MUST HEAR THIS“ status, and dredging the songs in between up from the muck of fuzz and flat tones and revealing them to be each a piece de resistance in and of themselves. This is the least punk thing I've ever said, but taking this 1982 album which I already adored and blowing it up with 2007 production somehow makes the entire thing seem more “real“ and visceral -- it sounds like listening to a full-on movement rather than another bizarro hardcore release; the make-up and blood and garbage and flung pig-heads that defined their infamous stage shows no longer feel gratuitous -- it all feels like culture in motion. Factor in the only successful Doors cover in existence and a rendition of The Stooges'「NO FUN」that'll keep you from putting on that Iggy vinyl for weeks and you've completely run out of excuses not to be goose-stepping down the sidewalk, pumping your fist, and shouting “STALIN! STALIN! STALIN! STALIN!“
