"Wiped Out" (1982) Album Description:
"Wiped Out" is Raven in 1982 with the brakes removed and the steering wheel already vibrating loose. Sitting in the hot middle of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, this second album pushed the Newcastle trio beyond pub-metal muscle into the nastier, faster edge that speed metal and early thrash would soon start raiding for parts. Not a tidy breakthrough in the chart-pop sense. More useful than that. This is the sound of a band making the room smaller, hotter, and a bit less safe.
The front cover shouts first, obviously, with its red-orange voltage and cartoon-danger lightning bolt. But the real evidence waits deeper in the package: the collage back cover, the Neat Records label details, the Italian manufacturing line, and that awkwardly wonderful bonus 7" promotional single. That is where "Wiped Out" stops being just another fast NWOBHM LP and starts behaving like a complete little crime scene for collectors.
Britain in 1982 was not short of heavy metal noise. Iron Maiden were already moving like a machine, Saxon had their boots on bigger stages, Venom were dragging filth and theatre into darker corners, Tank were making everything sound like it had been assembled in a lock-up, Girlschool still had bite, and Diamond Head were the cleverer kid in the room who occasionally remembered to punch. Raven came from a different angle: less elegant, more athletic, all elbows.
The Gallagher brothers had been at this since the 1970s, with John Gallagher on vocals and bass and Mark Gallagher on guitar forming the core that refused to die quietly. Rob Hunter’s arrival in 1979 gave the band the final classic-line-up shove, and by "Wiped Out" the trio sounded less like three musicians taking turns and more like a small factory malfunction. John yelps and pushes the bass forward. Mark saws through the riffs. Rob kicks the whole thing down the stairs and calls it timing.
"Faster Than The Speed Of Light" is the obvious opening statement, all panic and headlong attack, but the album does not survive on speed alone. "Bring The Hammer Down" has that greasy workshop swing, "Fire Power" snaps with cheap-ammo urgency, and "Live At The Inferno" already smells of hot lights and beer on a wooden floor. There is space here, but not much comfort. The songs lean into you.
The production credit deserves a little care because the page material and the record label tell the story better than a lazy one-line database scrape. The LP page names Keith Nichol as producer and engineer, while the Side 1 label itself credits production to Raven and Keith Nichol. That makes practical sense: Nichol captured the thing, but the band’s own manic fingerprints are all over the sound. Nobody polished this into showroom metal. Bless them for that.
Impulse Studios in Newcastle matters here because the album sounds local in the best possible way. Not provincial. Local. Tight room, working gear, hard attack, no grand illusion that British heavy metal needed satin curtains and heroic mist to be convincing. The guitars are wiry rather than fat, the drums crack instead of bloom, and the bass keeps poking through like it has paid rent and wants everyone to know.
The sleeve backs up the noise. The front is pure voltage warning: red heat, black slash, pink bolt, blue title, no band photo trying to look dangerous near a brick wall. The back cover is better, because it is messier. Live shots, fan snapshots, tilted photo borders, credit cards, names, gear details, thank-you lines along the bottom; all the human debris that proves Raven were living this rather than merely posing inside it.
The label photographs are where the collector brain starts misbehaving. The LP label shows NEAT 1004 A, SIAE, "made in Italy", the curved Neat Records lettering, the Raven logo, and an orange lightning-bolt drawing interrupted by the centre hole. It is clumsy in exactly the right way. The bonus 7" single carries NEAT 10047, 45 RPM, "PROMOTIONAL COPY NOT FOR SALE", and the two short blasts "Crash, Bang, Wallop" and "Run Them Down". Small disc, big nuisance. These things vanish from used copies faster than common sense at a record fair.
No grand public controversy hangs over "Wiped Out", at least not the tabloid kind. The usual misunderstanding is lazier: treating it as either just NWOBHM or already full thrash. It is neither that simple nor that tidy. This is the awkward middle animal, still wearing the sweaty club-band jacket but already moving with the forward snap that younger American and European bands would sharpen into a weapon.
Compared with Venom’s grubby theatrical menace, Raven are less occult sewer and more electrical accident. Compared with Saxon, they are less road-anthem and more panic sprint. Compared with Diamond Head, they trade architecture for impact. That trade will annoy listeners who want elegance. Fine. Elegance can go alphabetise the shelf while "Wiped Out" chews the speaker cloth.
Late at night, this is the sort of record that sounds better with the sleeve beside the turntable and the label photo open for checking. The music comes out jagged, the cardboard looks slightly overexcited, and the bonus single sits there like a smug little receipt for doing the collector job properly.
"Wiped Out" survives because it still feels unstable. Not unfinished. Unstable. Raven were not trying to become respectable on this record; they were trying to outrun the walls, and for most of the album they very nearly manage it. That is worth more than another perfectly mannered heavy metal LP with clean shoes and nothing to say.