Christopher Owens 🔖 “You suffer, but why?”


The only line delivered in Napalm Death’s ‘You Suffer’ (listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the shortest song ever released), it encapsulates Napalm’s outlook: one of caring about your fellow person, but always asking questions. 

Combine that with a musical output that, for some, signalled the end of music but was actually the beginning of what we now call grindcore (grinding basslines, blastbeats and guttural vocals) and what you have are a revolutionary act. One birthed through anarcho punk, industrial, hardcore, death metal and tape trading. Unconcerned about the music business, grindcore is a thriving genre around the world.

And one of the flag bearers is Shane Embury.

With a bass sound equally as influenced by Discharge and Repulsion, he has been the main driving force in Napalm for the last 35 years. An affable fellow who lives for music, it always figured that is memoir would make for enjoyable reading. Of course, this is the case.

Detailing his humble routes in Broseley, Shropshire, before discovering the beautiful power of music, Embury gives us a tale of a humble fan who begins to participate in the underground scene through tape trading and attending gigs at the Mermaid in Birmingham. Becoming friendly with local act Napalm Death (who were, effectively, the house band), he sits in the studio with them as they record their seismic debut LP ‘Scum’, before getting the chance to join on bass. A position that he has held since 1987.

Along the way, there have been appearances on kids TV, accusations of selling out, intra-band conflict, personal tragedy, loss of direction, critical reappraisal, new family members and lots of alcohol consumed. And through it all is Embury’s steadfast belief in not only the power of music, but the brotherhood of the underground.

Written in the manner of a gripping pub discussion, Embury is very humble and honest about elements of his life that still haunt him (such as his weight, the alienation he felt in Broseley and his drinking) while being positive and forthcoming about the milieu that gave him a chance to shine. Take this segment honouring John Peel as an example:

I knew who John Peel was – this DJ who played all this weird music – but he’d never really come onto my radar before. When you’re a young metalhead growing up in the early 80s, you listened to Tommy Vance’s Friday Rock Show on Radio 1. You might occasionally see Saxon or Judas Priest on Top of The Pops, but the Rock Show was where you could hear ‘Satan’s Fall’ by Mercyful Fate.

When I got know Napalm, I realized there was this whole world of music going on that I didn’t know about. I started listening to Peel’s late evening show on Radio 1, and because of that I got into bands like Swans and the Birthday Party, stuff I never would have heard a couple of years earlier.

Most DJs have a playlist they stick to rigidly, but Peel played whatever he wanted to play – you’d get Napalm Death or Extreme Noise Terror followed straight after by some mad African percussion music. Not everything was great: you might get a song where you’d think, “I love this”, then it would be followed by something where you’d go, “This is utter bollocks”, but maybe you’d slowly come to appreciate it.

Those looking for an insight into Napalm’s working mechanisms will find much to enjoy here and, for those desiring an enthusiastic look at one of the most important figures in the underground, you’ll find yourself admiring Embury even more than you already do.

Shane Embury, 2023, Life…? And Napalm Death, Rocket 88. ISBN-13: 978-1910978986 

⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.

Life…? And Napalm Death

Christopher Owens 🔖 “You suffer, but why?”


The only line delivered in Napalm Death’s ‘You Suffer’ (listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the shortest song ever released), it encapsulates Napalm’s outlook: one of caring about your fellow person, but always asking questions. 

Combine that with a musical output that, for some, signalled the end of music but was actually the beginning of what we now call grindcore (grinding basslines, blastbeats and guttural vocals) and what you have are a revolutionary act. One birthed through anarcho punk, industrial, hardcore, death metal and tape trading. Unconcerned about the music business, grindcore is a thriving genre around the world.

And one of the flag bearers is Shane Embury.

With a bass sound equally as influenced by Discharge and Repulsion, he has been the main driving force in Napalm for the last 35 years. An affable fellow who lives for music, it always figured that is memoir would make for enjoyable reading. Of course, this is the case.

Detailing his humble routes in Broseley, Shropshire, before discovering the beautiful power of music, Embury gives us a tale of a humble fan who begins to participate in the underground scene through tape trading and attending gigs at the Mermaid in Birmingham. Becoming friendly with local act Napalm Death (who were, effectively, the house band), he sits in the studio with them as they record their seismic debut LP ‘Scum’, before getting the chance to join on bass. A position that he has held since 1987.

Along the way, there have been appearances on kids TV, accusations of selling out, intra-band conflict, personal tragedy, loss of direction, critical reappraisal, new family members and lots of alcohol consumed. And through it all is Embury’s steadfast belief in not only the power of music, but the brotherhood of the underground.

Written in the manner of a gripping pub discussion, Embury is very humble and honest about elements of his life that still haunt him (such as his weight, the alienation he felt in Broseley and his drinking) while being positive and forthcoming about the milieu that gave him a chance to shine. Take this segment honouring John Peel as an example:

I knew who John Peel was – this DJ who played all this weird music – but he’d never really come onto my radar before. When you’re a young metalhead growing up in the early 80s, you listened to Tommy Vance’s Friday Rock Show on Radio 1. You might occasionally see Saxon or Judas Priest on Top of The Pops, but the Rock Show was where you could hear ‘Satan’s Fall’ by Mercyful Fate.

When I got know Napalm, I realized there was this whole world of music going on that I didn’t know about. I started listening to Peel’s late evening show on Radio 1, and because of that I got into bands like Swans and the Birthday Party, stuff I never would have heard a couple of years earlier.

Most DJs have a playlist they stick to rigidly, but Peel played whatever he wanted to play – you’d get Napalm Death or Extreme Noise Terror followed straight after by some mad African percussion music. Not everything was great: you might get a song where you’d think, “I love this”, then it would be followed by something where you’d go, “This is utter bollocks”, but maybe you’d slowly come to appreciate it.

Those looking for an insight into Napalm’s working mechanisms will find much to enjoy here and, for those desiring an enthusiastic look at one of the most important figures in the underground, you’ll find yourself admiring Embury even more than you already do.

Shane Embury, 2023, Life…? And Napalm Death, Rocket 88. ISBN-13: 978-1910978986 

⏩ Christopher Owens was a reviewer for Metal Ireland and finds time to study the history and inherent contradictions of Ireland. He is currently the TPQ Friday columnist.

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