Review Summary: Take it or send us upstairs.
Cast in the same mould of Motorhead and Girlschool, Tank's debut, produced by "Fast" Eddie Clarke, is an album that wouldn't go amiss in your NWOBHM collection. You see, the vast majority of their contemporaries was at the time starting to draw distance from the loose, 'punk-ish' approach that defined the early days of the movement and went for more polished productions, higher vocal range or more serpentine compositions. On the contrary, the power trio chose to embrace the low "mutt" pedigree that brought countless lads--before or since Tank--to pick up an instrument. To put it differently, they were already wasting countless hours in 'n 'round the pub doing what lads or mutts do; so, they could as well pick up the axes and write some tunes, touring around more pubs and doing more of what lads or mutts do. Once in a while some of these crowds would prove to be more witted than the rest, barking that it's not just "Blood, Guts & Beer" inside 'em. Indeed, on Filth Hounds of Hades
, Tank showcases a knack for disguising sarcasm under 'geezer worthy' semantics and unpretentious, "raw" instrumentation. They mashed it --bass, guitar n drums-- live in studio or all in their mouth without much effort; they marked their territory in 1982, priding their anthem "Turn Your Head Around"... and while no one dared to look, they started diggin' all around to find a good spot for a single bone they chose to save. Granted, this is a filthy bunch or a breed that won't sit still to get bathed... it's not that they crave dirt, but time is finite and what's the point spending it in something that won't last? For they were gonna get messed up again, as soon as they'd hit the road, opening for Lemmy & Co. or... "since our trip bellow is predetermined after all the mess we've caused, why waste our time on the meanwhile you dry ***e?"
I reckon the old boatman fancies the coin, but I'd bet that when the time comes he'll let the pack in for free - being flattered 'n' all by the "dedication" and the bone they've saved for toll. Ye, at the end of the day, I doubt that Tank will have put aside a single quid for him.