Using popular music as a political pulpit is nothing new. Sometimes weaving liberal tethers to bar chords or hiphop beats works beautifully (the Dead Kennedys, Public Enemy), and sometimes the end result is annoying or hypocritical (Rage Against the Machine, Henry Rollins). Few and far between, however, are those moments when the weight of the artists' subject matter matches the technical and creative impact of the music. Holland's the Ex has achieved this rare balance with an astute combination of percussion-driven art punk, raggedly aggressive guitar work, and viciously sharp comedic flourishes.

Although the band has been making a politically charged ruckus since 1979, many young fans first discovered the Ex two years ago, when Fugazi took the band on a U.S. tour. The shattering impact Fugazi has on audiences tends to make the memory of an opening band fade rather quickly, but the Ex proved to be a kinetic exception to the rule. Welding the willfully reckless, serrated slabs of guitar produced by Andy and Terrie (last names are of no concern to this band) to the merciless, African-influenced drumming of Katrin would be compelling enough, but the vibrant presence of vocalist Jos (who goes by "G. W. Sok") pushes the Ex's post-punk argument to the top of the critical courts.

The fact that Jos' native language is Dutch doesn't obstruct his satirical view of the world or impair his ability to deliver incisive social commentary in English, with a tone that is impassioned and obviously informed, but somehow unencumbered by lefty pretense and dogmatic punk posturing. Speaking via phone from his home in Amsterdam, Jos is warmly intelligent, genuinely self-effacing, and wryly funny.

The Ex began when the founding members met within the Dutch underground squatters' movement. "There was a lot of squatting going on and a lot of anti-military stuff that we connected with. The first motivation for us was that you could go up on the stage and say what you wanted to say, like 'fuck off!' or whatever you needed to get out. But of course we couldn't play at all," he laughs. After drawing straws to decide who would learn which instruments, the Ex began playing around Amsterdam at the growing number of local punk festivals. "One week you stood in the audience, and there were people on the stage, but the next week it could be you on that stage--or the guy next to you. What was political was the fact that people were finally trying something."

That something soon began taking more complex forms, and a collective decision was made to write songs that said a lot more than 'fuck off'. "If you're going to sing about something, then it should also be worth talking about. It was logical for us to sing about the things that were happening around us, and in the country." By 1984, this endeavor had taken a decidedly proletarian shape with the release of the double LP Blueprints for a Blackout, a stark documentation of a closing paper mill and its impact on the laborers.

At the crest of the Ex's 10-year anniversary, the band developed a logical affection for free improvisation and collaborative projects with outside musicians. In 1989 the band released Joggers and Smoggers, the product of a series of improvised sessions that included contributions from Sonic Youth's Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore. "We wanted to invite people who had been inspiring us through the years," Jos explains. The band's collaborative circle grew to include an international range of peers (Dog Faced Hermans, Han Bennink, Tom Cora) and eventually led to a DIY ethnomusicological sense that explored the music of Zimbabwe, Hungary, Greece, and Ethiopia.

The Ex's latest, Dizzy Spells, is the band's second recording to be overseen by caustic-noise-loving producer Steve Albini, whom the band met in a chance encounter at CBGB's in 1989. Albini captures the best of the Ex's abrasive textures, particularly the schizoid clatter of Katrin's drumming, but also keeps things minimalist and noodle-free with clean and simple recordings. Much of the album's lyrical content revolves around Jos' growing unease with the bitter fruits of the global economy. "If you go all over the world you can always find Disney and McDonald's, everywhere--and it's all one taste. All the things that taste different disappear because people want this one taste. I find that a bit scary, the mono-cultural thing."

An aversion to the homogenized is also what Jos believes has kept his band together for more than 20 years. "Sometimes it's good to have a couple months off to concentrate on other things we want to do, and work with other artists. We always feel like after we've done that, the band has something extra.... We get a lot of energy and inspiration from working with others to put new ideas into the band. That's a fantastic feeling, and that's what makes us happy."