Album Review: FM BX Society Tape 005 by The Mess
Released in 1982, FM BX Society Tape 005 is a raw and unfiltered gem from Belgian rock outfit The Mess. Released under their own label, The FM-BX Society Label, this album captures the gritty essence of early '80s DIY rock while carving out its own unique identity. It’s not perfect—far from it—but that’s part of its charm. This isn’t an album for everyone; it’s for those who appreciate music with edges, cracks, and a little dirt under its nails.
One track that sticks in my mind is “Klemskerke Was Never Like This.” The title alone feels like a cryptic postcard from some forgotten seaside town. Musically, it’s a jagged ride, blending angular guitar riffs with a rhythm section that seems to teeter on the edge of falling apart—and yet, somehow, it holds together. The vocals are delivered with an almost sneering confidence, as if the singer knows you’re not sure whether to dance or just stare at your shoes. There’s something haunting about the way the song builds momentum without ever fully exploding. It leaves you hanging, like a story with no resolution but one you can’t stop thinking about.
Then there’s “I’m So Selfish,” which hits differently. If Klemskerke is introspective and brooding, this one punches you right in the gut. Lyrically, it’s brutally honest—almost uncomfortably so. The repetition of the title phrase becomes a mantra, forcing listeners to confront their own flaws alongside the narrator. The production is lo-fi, sure, but that only adds to the authenticity. You can practically hear the sweat dripping off the instruments. It’s messy, loud, and utterly human—a reminder that rock music doesn’t need polish to be powerful.
The third track, “Casablanca Was Never Like This,” leans into a more cinematic vibe, though I found myself less drawn to it compared to the first two. Still, it rounds out the tape nicely, offering a slightly dreamier counterpoint to the abrasive energy of the other songs.
What makes FM BX Society Tape 005 stand out isn’t just its sound—it’s the attitude. The Mess aren’t trying to reinvent the wheel here, but they don’t need to. They’ve created something that feels alive, even decades later. Listening to this album feels like stumbling upon a secret—a snapshot of a moment in time when a group of musicians decided to do things their way, consequences be damned.
And honestly? That’s kinda beautiful.
Fun fact: I still can’t figure out if Klemskerke is a real place or just a figment of their imagination. Either way, I want to go there.
