BY CHRISTOPHER DUNN

The Jazz Butcher Group is among the truly original bands to come over from England this year. This Northamptonshire group first appeared in London in 1983, and have finally made it over to the United States to promote their latest album "Bloody Nonsense." It includes a diverse assortment of twelve cuts, compiled expressly for us Americans, from various albums and 45s previously released in England.

The Butcher and his group mix elements of soul, countiy, jazz, and that raw, dirty rock sound that obscured the Velvet Underground from popular recognition. At their rawest the Jazz Butcher Group is remeniscent of Bauhaus (though not so dark and "intense") as in "Caroline Wheeler's Birthday Present," which features a loud, distorted guitar and the Butcher's ranting vocals. The more polished, melodic tunes, like "The Human Jungle" and "Big Saturday," may remind you of Roxy Music or Elvis Costello. To be sure, they are not afraid to utilize their more refined talents, like those of Max Eider, who generally prefers a clean, picked sound to the recently celebrated "chainsaw" craze.

In their lyrics, the Jazz Butcher Group stays clear of this new reverence for "sincerity," which has made some "postpunk" bands so syrupy and tiresome. The Jazz Butcher, with forked tongue and alcohol breath, sings and sputters about how he loves to groove in the bus lane, how he fears the "Death Dentist" (armed with electrical spikes and Novocain), and how the devil and Frank Sinatta are his friends. Of course, "Bloody Nonsense" includes two jazzy tunes, "Partytime" and "Drink," which describe the group's favorite pastime. They satirize everything from the heroes of modern rock to the absurdities of world politics, as in "President Reagan's Birthday Present." For the Jazz Butcher Group, nothing is sacred.

How refreshing it is to hear a band that doesn't take themselves, nor anything around them, too seriously. So I pass along the Jazz Butcher's message to America as it appears on the album cover: "Hey America, I slept with your wife,"

Bloody Nonsense

The Jazz Butcher and his group are not in the business of belonging; they are too old and too obstreperous to conform to some attention-seeking image or commercially viable formula. Rather, they bring their not inconsiderable talents to bear on whatever happens to be in the way at the time. The results can only be described as essential.

BigTime