You don't need to look out your window to see stupidity and small-mindedness surrounding you; flip open a newspaper, turn on the TV, walk down the street, and you'll encounter it in all its ugly forms. And man, is it ugly out there. When the supposed leader of the free world suffers from brain rot and his minions aren't far behind, it's natural to crave an escape. And lo and behold, as if waiting around the corner, Half Man Half Biscuit are here to greet listeners, latest album in hand. Talk about perfect timing. All Asimov and No Fresh Air may be their sixteenth album, but make no mistake: Half Man Half Biscuit are no oldies act. Lead vocalist and songwriter Nigel Blackwell's lyrics are as sharp, surreal, and wonderfully obtuse as ever, in a world that is more sharp, surreal, and obtuse than it's ever been.
For those unaware of exactly what Half Man Half Biscuit are (commonly abbreviated HMHB), the band formed in 1984 in Merseyside when Blackwell and soon-to-be lifelong musical partner Neil Crossley teamed up to unleash their music on the world. Both had separate experiences playing in bands with names like Split Guts and North of Watford. Unlike others who formed bands with dreams of stardom dancing around their heads, that was never the case with the duo, now called Half Man Half Biscuit, who were just trying to get through the day by entertaining themselves. Soon, they recruited Nigel's brother, Simon, on lead guitar, and his mate, Paul Wright, on drums.
With a band lineup sorted, they started rehearsing in Liverpool, with Nigel becoming the studio caretaker. As fate would have it, he met a gent building an eight-track studio upstairs and needed someone to test the sound. Or four people, as it turned out, with HMHB quickly making use of the space, recording their debut album for the lowly sum of forty pounds.
As a laugh, Nigel and Neil thought they'd hawk the tape around to labels, just to see what the response would be. Takers were few and far between, with the now-iconic Manchester-centered Factory Records taking a pass on the band. So the duo went in the direction of Probe Records. Proprietor Geoff Davies was a legend in Merseyside, both for his long-running record shop and for championing indie artists on his label. Geoff saw the brilliance of Half Man Half Biscuit (or more aptly, his wife Annie did), and the band soon found themselves on the Probe stable. It was through Geoff that John Peel, the iconic BBC DJ, received an advance copy of their debut album, Back in the DHSS. Almost immediately, Peel appreciated their unique songs, often mixing references to obscure English music, television, and sports figures with Blackwell's surrealist lyrics and biting humor (or "delighting in their savage mockery of minor British celebrities," as HMHB's fan site puts it). If you're looking for a place to start with Half Man Half Biscuit, it's as good as any; kicking off with the hilarious "God Gave Us Life," things only get brilliant from there. Se riously, there are too many favorite bits on that album, and every subsequent one, to count.
Half Man Half Biscuit's debut, Back In The D.H.S.S. (1985), and latest, All Asimov And No Fresh Air (2025).
Half Man Half Biscuit's debut became not only an unlikely smash but the biggest-selling independent record of 1986 in England. They followed it up with the popular The Trumpton Riots EP, and its mixture of arcane and esoteric references to children's TV, table football, and English celebrities only continued to add to their growing fanbase. They quickly became favorites on the university circuit but had misgivings about their mainstream popularity, twice declining to appear on UK TV music show The Tube, preferring to go watch their local football team, Tranmere Rovers. Half Man Half Biscuit didn't want the rock 'n' roll lifestyle, and after a second single (the brilliant "Dickie Davis Eyes”), they announced they were disbanding in 1987.
But you can't keep a good thing down, and the same applies to HMHB as well, for they reunited four years later, recording new music and performing around England to a fan base of both original fans and newcomers alike. After forty years and some lineup changes (though with Nigel and Neil always at the core), and with fifteen unique albums to their name, I find myself listening to their latest offering All Asimov and No Fresh Air saying the same thing I say to myself upon each new HMHB album: the lads who shook the Wirral have done it again. Musically, there's plenty of the patented sharp pop punk that the Biscuit boys are masters of ("I'm Going Out of My Mind To Get Into Yours" may be my favorite song of the moment. Damn it's catchy, with a great bass line). But true to form, there are also plenty of detours; the gorgeous "No One Likes a Polymath," featuring Matilda Hodge on violin, proves that Nigel, Neil, Carl Henry, and Karl Benson can create a beautiful tune on a subject that others aren't exactly lining up to tackle. Other less-tackled subjects on the new album include horror clowns and Record Store Day.
Which brings me to my next query—how does one describe Half Man Half Biscuit? I've never bothered to compare them to any other musical entity, past or present, simply because you can't. They can be witty yet biting, clever yet silly, curious yet deep rooted in arcane facts and trivia. In a world that seems like it's getting dumber and more sloth-like, Half Man Half Biscuit come ready for work, suffering no fools. And neither should you. Though "Rawplugs of Yesteryear (Breaking the States)" talks about how to break it in America, Half Man Half Biscuit never truly have; and try as hard as I do, they never will. But maybe this piece will push the pendulum ever so slightly. Half Man Half Biscuit are too brilliant, too clever, too special. Of course, would I love to walk down to the club and see them perform? You bet. I'm selfish that way. But I'll have to fly to the UK to make that happen, at one of their gigs. In the meantime, I can spend the summer soaking in their latest musical offering of thirteen fresh songs. And if you're looking for an escape from the daily grind, there's always an open door for all with Half Man Half Biscuit—even polymaths.
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