The Canadian-German darkwave pioneers pay tribute to Nash the Slash with a poptastic cover of one of his signature tracks.
Psyche were inspired by Nash’s use of gothic horror imagery and drum machines to emerge from their Edmonton bedrooms into the darkness of Cold War Europe. It is fitting, therefore, that they reimagine the bandaged one’s material in their own way.
Naughty reader. Crawl on your hands and knees to feed at Harpy’s feet. Lick her boots, if you dare. And maybe, just maybe, she will let you dance
Eddie Bengtsson‘s record collection has been a big influence on the sound of Page. The singles of Silicon Teens provided the template for the band. John Foxx-era Ultravox! and early OMD contributed style and attitude. Billy Currie’s work with Gary Numan lent sophistication. Listening to different periods of Page recordings is like crate-digging with an old friend.
The release of Inget motstånd [EN: No Resistor or No Resistance] finds the Swedish duo exploring the section marked “Krautrock.” There has been a subtle shift in the sound from British New Wave towards Conny’s Studio and the Neue Deutsche Welle. Bengtsson cites NEU!, Can, and La Düsseldorf as providing inspiration on “Klarar det ändå” [EN: “Still Making It”]. There is a Kraftwerkian quality to the song, as well.
Bengtsson’s nostalgia for the innovative spirit of the 1970s is matched by the clarity of expression brought by Christer Hermodsson’s (Biomekkanik, Spark!) production work. The two have worked together in Sista mannen på jorden (SMPJ) and are both S.P.O.C.K alumni. Their familiarity means that Hermodsson knows how far he can take the mixing without straining the impact of the material.
Founded by Marina Schiptjenko and Bengstsson way back in 1980, Page filled the gap left in Swedish poptronica by the fade-out of ABBA. They quickly established themselves as a fearlessly creative act; exploring the possibilities of monophonic synths and drum machines in answer to Synth Britannia.
The opening track in the set, “Kan inte tänka på allt” [EN: “Can’t Think of Everything”] makes the point. Although it leans towards Bengtsson’s work in SMPJ and the short-lived This Fish Needs a Bike, it’s impressed with Page’s signature vocal and melodic styles. The icy synths project Nordic coolness; cozy but moody.
“Mycket mer” [EN: “Much More”] chugs with a motorik beat, in tribute to Klaus Dinger’s distinctive and precise drumming. The flange is strong with this one, but the key to the sound is a Moog bass that pulses like street lights reflected on a speeding car. It is the missing link between Neu! and John Foxx’s Metamatic.
The highlight of the album is “Gå itu” [EN: “Breaking Up”]. An absolute stormer of a track, it finds Bengtsson in excellent form. “Om ett tag” [EN: “In a While”] will get the crowds moving with its metronomic time-keeping and infectious hooks. “Sen så blev det värre” [EN: “Then It Got Worse”] opens up with an exhilarating chorus, but the full box of tricks is on display, including horns and harmonies. There is a lot of drama at the core of the set.
“Klarar det ändå” [EN: “Can Still Do It”] appears to make references to “The Robots” and “Europe Endless.” It is followed by “Inget som betyder någonting” [EN: “Nothing that Means Anything”], which has echoes of SMPJ’s “Ögon.” The tracks highlight Bengtsson’s ability to humanise the machines.
“Moderna Saker” [EN: “Modern Things”] is impressed with strings influenced by Billy Currie, while echoing OMD’s early sequencer work. That provides the scaffolding on which Bengtsson has built a remarkably catchy poptronica edifice.
The strings return with greater complexity for “Kära Du” [EN: “My Dear”], which finds Page at their most cinematic. The instrumental is reprised on piano, and it is hard not to imagine the sounds coming from a drawing room in the 1930s with one of Mr Edison’s newfangled phonograph players. Crate-digging was more complicated then, but arguably no less expensive a hobby.
Throughout Inget motstånd, what stands out is the confidence of the duo entirely at ease in their own sound world. The result is a pleasing and progressive album that is entirely consistent with Page’s pioneering role in Swedish poptronica.
Vamberator are back — and they’ve brought some spectral company. The duo, made up of Jemaur Tayle and Boris Williams (The Cure), have handed their ghostly piano lament “I Need Contact” to Rolo McGinty (The Woodentops). The result? A slow-burning, cinematic remix that feels like it’s been pulled from the wreckage of a dream.
Out on 7 November 2025 via New Reality Records, the remix arrives on a custom USB stick (just like in spy movies), loaded with bonus video material. There are also the usual digital drops on Bandcamp and streaming platforms.
McGinty’s rework – lifting the track from Vamberator’s debut album, Age of Loneliness (Unifaun Productions / Maracash) – leans deep into the melancholy. He’s brought in cellist Asakura Momoka and the sound of an ancient diesel train engine, blending fragile strings and industrial hums into Tayle’s already heart-stopping piano ballad.
“The theme is loneliness in its many forms,” says Thale. “The loss of loved ones, places, and the struggling need to connect with nature as it slowly disappears. Does a creature in the throes of extinction understand its plight? Does it continue to seek out a mate against all the odds?”
Formed from the ashes of Shelleyan Orphan, Vamberator reunites Tayle and Williams for their first new project together since 2008’s We Have Everything We Need. After the loss of Shelleyan Orphan’s Caroline Crawley, Age of Loneliness finds the pair confronting absence and connection head-on.
For McGinty, the collab was a full-circle moment:
I knew Jem in a previous life, feels like! He was impressive running Shelleyan Orphan, and we had an important mutual friend, Seb Shelton – he managed both of us. So, I would hear about what the Orphans were up to, and bump into them at Rough Trade, or occasionally watch live. Earlier this year, I checked out what Jem is up to nowadays, and immediately liked a couple of tracks… and if desired, asked to be nosey and fiddle around with them. In a way, remix perhaps, more as “Creature in My House” became, but also cinematically enhanced the mood of “I Need Contact.”
It grabbed me right away, that one. I kidnapped a cellist and down to the dungeon of decibels we went. I think we made the song more upsetting than it already is. Adding the cello made it more timeless, and to add more to the time distort I added the audio of a very old diesel train; a big red old puller from the late ‘40s. It had a bass thump that made the ground shake. It’s such an old sound. I had my recorder with and the owner showed me inside, where I recorded the engine ticking over. It’s very quiet in the mix, adding merely an atmosphere: industrial amongst the sombre string quartet tones.
I guess I had a place in Derbyshire in mind: it has spectacular arched viaducts, or maybe once trains rode them, so high up. There’s railyards… You go back in time, it feels. I thought, a suitable place for the song.
Also on the release is McGinty’s 10-minute haunted-house rework of “Creature in My House” – a dubbed-out, psychedelic sprawl that proves some ghosts like to dance.
Ten years after the first White Birches album was released, the Swedish duo of Jenny Gabrielsson Mare and Fredrik Jonasson are preparing to release their third. A New Reign is released on 21 November 2025.
Call them dreampop or warm wave, but don’t call “Breathing” easy-going. Laden with drama, it is an emotional high-tension wire, stretched out until it is ready to snap.
In the middle of the new documentary, Nash the Slash Rises Again!, a former roadie describes how anyone alternative was treated by the rockers and rednecks of 1970s and 80s Toronto: “They’d call you fags!”
Never mind that the abusers were wearing Queen t-shirts and adored Judas Priest: for a gay violinist interested in drum machines and horror movies, being near the Canadian mainstream was a potential hazard.
It’s no wonder, therefore, that people ask whether Jeff Plewman adopted his Nash the Slash persona as a way to disguise himself. On the evidence considered by the producers of the film, the best answer is no. Plewman created Nash to embody his love of old horror movies and bring forward the imagery. He wasn’t hiding himself; he was using himself to keep the flame burning for “the children of the night.” If breeder bullies didn’t like it, then too bad for them.
That helps to explain Nash’s appeal to outsiders: the man in the bandages was one of them. A one-man band, armed with keyboards, mandolins, drum machines, and violins, all channelled through guitar pedals – Nash avoided guitars and eschewed the cliches of North American rock. He performed covers of The Who, Rolling Stones, and Jan & Dean, but subverted them with his unique set of side-chains.
The documentary features contributions by Gary Numan (who discovered Nash by chance and immediately invited him on tour), Steve Hillage (who produced an album for him), Youth (who played shows with Killing Joke, on the same bill), and Danielle Dax. There are also stories from close associates, including lyricist Toby Dammit and Plewman’s brother. The picture that emerges is a complex one: Nash blew everyone’s minds with his creativity; but Plewman could be volatile (and sometimes violent). The film doesn’t shy away from addressing this dialectical relationship.
There are plenty of Toronto celebrities to spot in the clips found by the producers: Sam Sniderman, J. D. Roberts, Michael Williams, Jeanie Becker, Robert Vanderhorst, and Valerie Buhagiar all get cameos. The most Canadian thing in the story, however, comes near the end of the film: a friend of Plewman’s describes breaking into his living space and drinking the last of his beers.
The film includes a library of material from Nash’s live shows to feast on. Bathed in psychedelic lights, or backed by movies, Nash knew how to perform at the highest level. He was a perfectionist who demanded perfection from others. When they didn’t measure up, he let them know. That made him a difficult person to get to know; but, through his work and the memories of his cohort, Nash the Slash Rises Again! goes a long way to address that.
The film is a masterful music documentary. It is clearly a labour of love, brought to the screen by the affection of the outsiders and misfits Nash collected and inspired – in his life and in his art.
There is an argument that Emmon’s shift from the electropop of “High Horses” and “Lips on Fire” to the darkwave of “Decisions” isn’t a step change so much as a shift along a continuum.
There has always been an intensity to the group’s energy and a sultriness to Emma Nylén’s voice that makes Emmon stand out from the crowd. The new album, ICON, sees the experimental and EBM dials turned up to match the ones marked “sexiness” and “danceability.”
The influences that come through include Depeche Mode circa Some Great Reward, Hydrology-era Recoil, and late 80s Clock DVA. The leftfield pop roots burrow deep into the dancefloor, while nourishing visions wrapped in leather and lace.
It’s immediately evident on the opener, “Neon Brown.” If hard is your calling card, then this track has your name all over it. Built with the industrial tooling that made “Something to Do” a classic for Depeche Mode, it is also tinged with delicious pop stylings.
That theme takes shape even more clearly on “Decisions” and “Shades of Blue.” Mr Monell has been studying the lectures of Professors Wilder, Miller, and Jones closely, on this evidence. If only Mr Gore had taken his notes with as much care.
Emmon wear their influences on their sleeves, but there is some truly striking original material collected here. “No Man’s Land” has some great electronic sounds but is lifted to new levels by Nylén’s vocals.
There is plenty of chugging bass to keep the party going. “Blood on the Ceiling,” which was written with Majestoluxe, leans into the spirit of That Total Age, while “Relics” is positively thunderous in the right room.
ICON is a dramatic set that blends poptronica into darker settings with the casual ease of an experienced bartender. Consume responsibly.
The ICA in London is the setting for the world premiere of Nash the Slash Rises Again!
It is fitting that the documentary film is released at Halloween. Nash – the alter ego of Jeff Plewman – emerged under the influence of horror films. His album, 1981’s Children of the Night, was Goth-adjacent with a title inspired by Dracula.
The sound of Nash the Slash was completely unique. He didn’t play guitars, but his sound found its way into the work of Simple Minds via their shared producer, Steve Hillage (Gong, System 7). He was signed to the same label as OMD, but the closest he came to pop was a cover of Jan and Dean’s “Dead Man’s Curve. He toured with Gary Numan and Iggy Pop; walking a line between genres as a one-man band.
We spoke with the Director of Nash the Slash Rises Again!, Tim Kowalski, about the film and his experience giving shape to the invisible man.
Nash the Slash is a bit of a cult figure. What motivated you to tell his story?
As a latch-key kid in Toronto, Nash The Slash left an indelible mark on me. I’d see him veiled in bandages and wielding a skull-shaped mandolin on TV. He spooked and fascinated me.
My first job out of high school was as a printing press operator. One day, I felt a tap on my shoulder. At first I thought it was my boss, who was about to tell me to stop wearing my headphones on the job. As I turned around, sheepishly removing my headphones, it was John – the older pressman next to me.
He asked if I knew who Nash The Slash was. He then proudly disclosed his involvement in Nash’s inaugural album. John told tales of Nash’s peculiar abode – a movie theater with a recording studio – and suggested a likeness to Elton John, sans bandages.
Despite lingering doubts, the notion of a cinematic tale began to germinate within me. Little did I know that, years later, I’d be involved in making that film. It’s funny how little incidents like this can set you on a life-altering path.
There are a number of celebrities in the film. Gary Numan, for example, who was one of the first to notice Nash’s style and creativity. Who are some of the artists we should look forward to seeing on the screen?
Yes! Gary Numan, found Nash one night while out on the town in Toronto as he was doing rehearsals for his first headlining tour in North America. After the show, he liked Nash’s style and creativity so much that asked Nash to go on tour right then and there. Gary was very happy to be talking about Nash and loved that his good friend is finally getting the attention he deserves.
Iggy Pop was also one of Nash’s early supporters and appears in the film in an infamous, early 80’s one on one with Nash as they took over a public access TV studio while on tour in Calgary. It’s a wild piece of video!
I also travelled to England to interview Martin “Youth” Glover from Killing Joke, Steve Hillage from Gong who produced “Children of The Night,” and Danielle Dax. All gave great interviews and added so much to the story.
The fans really got behind the project. What have they been telling you about their love for Nash?
Many fans had their first experience seeing a live concert watching Nash open for Gary Numan in the early 80s. He left a big impression on them in their formative years. Others have fond memories of seeing him in clubs around the Toronto area – or on television interviews and music videos, as I did.
In all cases, he inspired and captivated. Nash truly loved his fans and treated them as friends, staying in touch for years or decades – as many have told me.
On a related note, before we finalized the edit, we did some test screenings with young film students and cinephiles who were unfamiliar with Nash. The feedback was surprisingly positive, creating new fans! They found his image, story and music to be highly fascinating. Nash is timeless.
What did making the film teach you about Jeff, the man inside the bandages?
He’s a truly fascinating character. He loved remaining anonymous. It was like his superpower.
He enjoyed lurking in the audience before his shows, unmasked, and nobody caught on! He got a real charge out of hearing fans talk about him as he stood right next to them.
Like all people, he has his insecurities, flaws and challenges – as the film deeply explores. He also had this unique way of stubbornly doing things his own way, for better or worse. He’s a true individualist. I don’t want to spoil the film, but there are surprises. It seems, the more you learn, the less you know. I think he wouldn’t want it any other way.
Nash the Slash Rises Again! is shown as part of the Doc n Roll Festival at the ICA on Wednesday, 29 October 2025.
Bernard Sumner never planned to sing for New Order. As a young man, he wanted to play guitar in his band, Joy Division. That was going well, until frontman Ian Curtis did something unthinkable to the sounds of an Iggy Pop record. Sumner found himself thrust into the spotlight; shouldering Curtis’ legacy while creating new music with a group of similarly anarchic Mancunians.
Truth is, Sumner grew into the role just fine. He relied heavily on intoxicating substances to get him through the first few decades, but his songwriting and studio skills delivered a string of hits. He also worked with fellow Factory Records artists and mates from the industry to create innovative dancefloor material. Barney, as he was known, turned out to be able to program a computer and compose the perfect rhyme. No wonder he ended up with him from the Pet Shop Boys and Johnny Marr, who had the inclination and the time. Together, they made lots of money.
The relationship that didn’t survive was the one with his prickly frenemy, bassist Peter Hook. The Sumner-Hook axis was at the core of Joy Division and New Order, but resentments, jealousies, pettiness, and drugs eventually led to Hook being nudged away from New Order and Sumner consolidating the band around his own vision.
What followed was The Battle of New Order Biographies, as Sumner and Hook traded blows through the promotion of competing narratives. The picture that emerged was of two Salford lads trying to get one up on the other, while living rock star lifestyles under the watchful eye of their coke-crazed manager. The fact that they lost enormous sums to fund the hobbies of Rob Gretton is something both resent but also shrug off. The main thing was that they had fun.
The band that was Warsaw (sometimes billed as Stiff Kittens) and became Joy Division was unique. Inspired by the Sex Pistols, they quickly transcended punk to create two magical albums that gleamed like cat’s eyes in the greyness of 1970s Lancashire.
Sumner’s contributions sound primitive today – as, to be fair, do those of the other members of the band. The one thing they knew was that they didn’t want to go to work in offices. Music was their way to escape that fate, as well as a great way to meet girls. Ian Curtis summoned the courage to tell off Tony Wilson to his face, and what happened next has spawned a million t-shirts.
Martin Hannett was regarded as a bit of a genius, as a recording engineer, but he was also hard work. The sound of Joy Division was sculpted by his techniques, but the members of the band were subjected to random acts of cruelty in the studio. There came a point where, following the loss of Curtis and the reconstitution of the group, New Order gathered the strength to move in a new direction.
“Everything’s Gone Green” is the band in transition from post-punk gloom to euphoric pop. It is also the sound of them outgrowing their producer. It was the last single they recorded with Hannett, and it is strikingly modern. From the stutter of Sumner’s home-made synths to the whoop as ice was put down his shirt, this is New Order emerging from their chrysalis. After this single, nothing would be the same.
Sumner’s skills as a composer and producer have often been outshone by his role as New Order’s lead singer. He has worked with a number of artists to craft iconic electronic music, outside of the band, under his own name and as Be Music.
52nd Street were fellow Factory Records artists. Rob Gretton, a Factory partner and New Order’s manager, put Sumner together with the group to give an electronic sheen to their soul. It worked.
Section 25 was another fellow Manchester outfit, sharing space on Factory Records. Sumner leaned in to help with this track when – as he tells the story – the engineer didn’t show on time for their session. The result was a dancefloor-enhanced version of the band, lifted by Sumner’s growing confidence as a producer.
Sumner’s interest in programming sequencers didn’t catch on with the other members of New Order. In 1988, he turned to Johnny Marr of The Smiths to work on a dance music side project. This was the first result of their collaboration, Electronic, which turned into a supergroup with the addition of, variously, Neil Tennant from the Pet Shop Boys and Karl Bartos, the ex-Kraftwerk composer.
Sumner got his hands dirty working with Happy Mondays. The band famously rescued his Chinese take-away from the bin, when Sumner was finished with it. You can kind of tell from this track.
Named for the film starring Harvey Keitel, Bad Lieutenant was another of Sumner’s side projects. It drew in guitarists Phil Cunningham and Jake Evans. It functioned as a surrogate New Order, in some contexts, also involving drummer Stephen Morris and bassist Tom Chapman.
An evolution of Die Unbekannten, Mark Reeder’s subversive project was remixed by Sumner from the tapes originally recorded at Conny’s Studio. Notably, Reeder is the only person who appears in photographs alongside New Order in biographies by both Sumner and Peter Hook.
Written while a argument was raging between Martin Hannett and the Cargo Studios manager, Atmosphere is Joy Division’s most sublime creation. Sumner sings it here, out of necessity and love – the two qualities he brings to music like few other.
Do you want a new song from Die Krupps? Not want – NEED!
With the retirement of Front 242 and the force reduction of Nitzer Ebb and DAF, Die Krupps have been left as the most potent of the original EBM/electro-industrial acts. Their live show is savage in its intensity, and – as this new track reminds us – there is plenty of ammo left in the cannon.
