Reviews

Laibach: From Mount Paektu to Shepherds Bush

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

LAIBACH
02 SHEPHERD’S BUSH EMPIRE
LONDON, 1 MARCH 2019

Photo: Marija Buljeta / AltVenger

Laibach might seem bonkers. They might even be bonkers. But there is a lot of method behind their staging of The Sound of Music.

To start with, it is in accordance with their plan that you will be seated. The band are playing theatres on this tour, so don’t get any funny ideas about moving your hips.

The evening will start with a film: in this case, a documentary about Laibach’s visit to the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea on the 70th anniversary of its liberation from Japanese militarism.

Liberation Day tracks the band as they prepare to present The Sound of Music in Pyongyang. It is the most internationalist thing in the world: a Slovenian art collective, travelling with some curious fans and their British label boss, putting on an American musical, written by the children of German Jews and set in Austria, for a film co-directed by a Latvian and Norwegian and financed by the Norwegian arts council, in the capital of North Korea.

Their visit in 2015 was not without controversy, either inside or outside of the DPRK. The right-wing press went nuts in the US and Europe. At their welcoming dinner, the representative of the official culture committee read the group some of the criticism received from his comrades. There were many, it seems, who couldn’t cope with the invitation given to Laibach to stage the country’s first Western “rock” show. Philistines raised the same arguments from both sides of the DMZ: Laibach make use of totalitarian imagery and styling; their music doesn’t fit into conventional “rock” forms; and no one can control them.

The culture committee representative, to his credit, appeared to understand that Laibach is like a fairground mirror – reflecting the viewer in ways that confound their expectations. Born in a pseudo-socialist environment, which collaborated with and confronted foreign systems in accordance with the whims of Marshall Tito, Laibach well understand how to select and position images to provoke a response.

Photo: Marija Buljeta / AltVenger

Even so, before it can be put on, the show has to be run through a number of filters: images from Korean culture that are insufficiently reverent have to go; translations have to be cleansed of South Korean idioms; the arrangement for “Arirang” must be normalised; and Nazi space ships have to give up their Maltese crosses.

The group accept these changes with good grace: the show must go on, so long as the power lines can be jerry-rigged and local busybodies can be pushed away. The collaboration works, and a sizeable but bemused audience takes in the performance politely.

The choice of the musical was to overcome the difficulty of selecting Western material that the North Korean audience would find acceptable. On paper, as one side of a cultural exchange, it makes sense. In the hands of Laibach, a band known for the low growl of Milan Fras’ vocals and martial rhythms, it sounds bonkers. In fact, it is brilliantly subversive.

The Sound of Music is one of the best known and loved musicals of all time. The film version, starring Julie Andrews, is one of the most viewed films globally. For Laibach to tackle the material makes sense on a number of grounds: they are more theatrical than “rock,” even if they make albums and appear with guitars and drums; the U-rated material invites repurposing just as readily as images from Christianity or Western political traditions; and the universal reach of the 1965 film means that the songs will be familiar wherever they go.

In fact, a careful balance is achieved between corruption and conformity: the performance is largely faithful to Rodgers & Hammerstein’s songs, while the use of propaganda graphics and Fras’ distinctive voice mine at the foundations of standard expectations. Idealisation of states, they seem to say, isn’t much different than idealisation of states of mind.

Photo: Marija Buljeta / AltVenger

The most significant change to the material is a tweak to ask, “How do you solve a problem like Korea?” Fras hasn’t changed his typical head-dress; but, in the context of this performance, it takes on the resemblance of a nun’s veil.

The band are joined for this performance by Boris Benko and Marina Mårtensson, who both performed on the album version of the show. They add striking vocals that contrast with and complement Fras’ own.

After the intermission (this is theatre and not a standard “rock” show, remember), the band returns to play a number of songs from the back catalogue. Mårtensson leads them onto the stage for a belting version of “Sympathy for the Devil,” her hair seemingly expanding as the song goes on.

There are some songs from their early days, which make good sense in the confines of a theatre. You can’t dance to them, but you would have fun trying.

The show comes to an end with some material from the Iron Sky movies, completing the conceptual arc from a film about music to music from films. Fras exchanges his head-gear for a cowboy hat, which he tips to hoots and hollers from the audience: for certain, subverting music genres is one of their favourite things.

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Born to Stun: Cosey Makes Waves with TUTTI

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Cosey Fanni Tutti started life with an ordinary name, was raised in an ordinary town, and had an ordinary (which is to say, dysfunctional) family life. By the time Christine Newby left her parents’ home in Hull, she was ready to recreate herself as a very special artist.

In 2017, Hull was named City of Culture, and Tutti was invited to present a film about her time in the COUM art collective. They had obviously overcome some of the anxiety the city felt when Tutti and her collaborators, including Mr Genesis P-Orridge, staged their direct actions in its streets and squats in the 1970s.

Truth is, they had probably breathed a sigh of relief when COUM’s main actors relocated to London and started the pioneering industrial band, Throbbing Gristle. Tutti’s involvement in these projects became a source of pride rather belatedly and only after TG had become a ghost. With several decades of work in Chris & Cosey and Carter Tutti behind her, Hull could invite Tutti to stage new music with assured safety for the sensibilities (if not the hearing) of the middle classes.

Tutti’s staging of Harmonic Coumaction, her autobiographical film, featured the music that is presented on TUTTI. It was then developed as part of an installation at Cabinet gallery in London before being refined into its current form.

The album features eight tracks in a range of styles. The title track opens with plaintive sounds from Cosey’s cornet before a thundering bass line comes in, reminding us of the electro-industrial performance by Carter Tutti Void at the Mute Short Circuit Festival.

That’s the first taste of the dancefloor-oriented sound that Cosey pioneered with partner Chris Carter. The rest of side one combines complex beats with samples (“Drone”), dirty techno (“Moe”), and reverb-saturated modulars (“Sophic Ripple”).

In a tale of two halves – reminiscent, perhaps, of the running order on the Leer and Rental classic, The Bridge – side two is more atmospheric. On “Split,” modulars follow the vagaries of their envelopes and filters with a rumble dark enough to put a chill into the most Zen of Underground workers. “Heliy” makes some use of Tutti’s breathy vocals but avoids a traditional song structure. “En,” which is the Swedish word for “one,” swirls with cinematic, brooding intensity, before “Orenda” dissolves into a close as pacific as a Bering Sea ice-breaker.

Unlike Tutti’s first solo album, Time to Tell, which featured a spoken word recounting of her experiences as a sex worker and art terrorist, TUTTI does not confront a specific target. TUTTI is another embodiment of Tutti’s motto that her life is her art and her art is her life – at an age when many are looking forward to retirement, it is both a summation of her evolution and a platform for further action.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

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Play It All Back: Mark Stewart on Reissue

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

Mark Stewart, The Pop Group vocalist and bard of conspiracy theories, is having one of his best solo LPs reissued with added materials from the archives.

Learning to Cope with Cowardice, his first solo album, was a landmark for post-funk, post-punk, post-industrial music. Recorded with The Maffia – musicians on loan from label-mates Dub Syndicate and New Age Steppers – it featured On-U Sound’s Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk with all of the pots turned to the the right and all of the sliders pushed forwards.

The thunder clap of beats on …Cowardice sounded like Thor enraged, while Stewart’s cries and growls subverted dub conventions. On the title track, he worked up a lather of anger and anguish sufficient to shame the most apolitical clubber into active resistance.

In the event, the politics of the album were potentially a muddle. “None Dare Call It Conspiracy” took its title from a book by Gary Allen, a spokesman for the far-right John Birch Society and promoter of the concept of a conspiratorial “New World Order.” Wes Brooks’ roots classic, “Don’t Ever Give Up (Lay Down Your Arms)” was covered as “Don’t Ever Lay Down Your Arms.” The album ended with “Jerusalem,” the alternative English national anthem written by the radical socialist William Blake, in one of Stewart’s accidental moments of epic beauty.

Mute Artists have repackaged …Cowardice with The Lost Tapes, a collection of out-takes from Stewart’s sessions with Sherwood. Stuffed with stickers and posters, the collection comes as a two-LP set on clear vinyl. Spun at 33 1/3 rpm, The Lost Tapes reveals a set of experimental versions of some of the tracks that ended up on …Cowardice, along with edits that didn’t make the final cut-up. They deserve to be beamed to other planets as proof that we once knew how to groove.

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A New Dose of Cryo

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

Sweden’s Cryo do EBM better than most. Martin Rudefelt extracts sounds from his old school synth collection that are distinctive and deliberate, while creating evocative atmospheres.

It’s a trick that not many current artists are able to pull off – never mind with the same style. The duo’s treatment for jaded ears continues with “Sanitarium,” out now from Progress Productions.

It has been twelve years since the first Cryo album, and in that time there have only been four full albums and a smattering of singles. They have been carefully measured doses, delivered with remixes to enhance their effects. Rudefelt’s intelligent and libertarian lyrics haven’t diminished the danceability of their heavily rhythmic sequencing and percussion by even one drop.

“Sanitarium” opens with a sample from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. “Medication time” might seem like more of a promise than a challenge to some listeners; but, in the doped up, soporific world we live in, it’s not always good news. Certainly, that is the theme of the vocal lines, intoned with the bedside manner of a doctor of philosophy.

There are eight remixes on the single. The stand-out effort is from Neuroticfish, who trancify the track; giving it more kick than a bottle of Pervitin. No one will do the thorazine shuffle to the Skylog version, either, but we think that the best way to take this medicine is straight: the original track is sensitively mastered and emphatic.

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Blonde But Not Forgotten

by Mat Smith
written by Mat Smith

Like most musical scenes, early synth-pop was littered with groups that didn’t quite make it; bands who should have been more successful than they were but who ultimately watched groups perceived as more deserving of acclaim have huge success and marketing energy bestowed upon them, while they were relegated to the role of mere footnotes – at best.

Such was the case with Glasgow’s Berlin Blondes, who wound up on the sidelines of the 80s synth dawn, already mostly broken up before their solitary album was in the can.

It shouldn’t have been this way. The band had all the right vital statistics: modish alien synths, a robotic sheen from employing a drum machine instead of a real drummer, spiky post-punk guitars, a pinch of Kraftwerk, a large dose of Bowie, and the obligatory New Romantic eyeliner. Their songs sat comfortably alongside everything from the semi-industrial sounds of early Mute to the ambitious gestures of Ultravox and Simple Minds, whom they supported in their early days.

Central to the Berlin Blondes sound were the arch stylings of vocalist and frontman Steve Bonomi and the swirling synths of future Altered Images / One Dove member, Jim McKinven, whose playing sat somewhere between the icy minimalism of Tubeway Army and Dave Formula’s more grandiose playing for Magazine. David Rudden’s bass and Robert Farrell’s guitar acted as foils to McKinven’s synths, humanising the electronics while McKinven, in turn, roboticised their playing.

A cult live following in Glasgow led to a deal with EMI – a remarkable achievement for a band little known outside their home city and with limited original material. With a working title of Building In The Sand, they recorded rough versions of the tracks at Numan’s Rock City studio in Shepperton with producer Mike Thorne, and the story goes that some sounds from Numan’s expansive Moog collection found their way into the recorded Berlin Blondes tracks.

Thorne would cement his central role within the nascent synth-pop scene with Soft Cell’s Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret, but he cut his (electronic) teeth with Berlin Blondes, including bringing an expensive Synclavier to the table which also turned up on the first Soft Cell LP. Thorne handed the tapes off to Harvey Goldberg at New York’s Media Sound for mixing duties, just as he would later do with Soft Cell’s first LP. By the time the LP was completed, Paul Rudden had departed to establish his band Endgames, and Jim McKinven left before EMI released the album in 1980, taking his synths and signature playing with him.

While it may lack the sonic fidelity or crispness of Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret, even after a timely remaster, Berlin Blondes remains a strong, under-appreciated early synth-pop gem. The songs are good, yielding singles in the form of “Science” and “Framework”, both possessing a hyperactive edge and the same intense focus on technological progress that was the muse of many an early synth-pop group. “Trail To Istanbul” similarly deals with another 80s lyrical concern – namely the glamour and mystique of world travel and foreign cultures – here working off a fantastic gridwork of synths and unswervingly spare drum machine pulses that nodded firmly in the direction of Thomas Leer’s “Private Plane”.

Elsewhere, “Secret Days” acted as a neat bridge between the angular shapes of post-punk and the emerging synth movement, all feisty guitars and shouty energy, held in check by glittering synth layers. “Mannequin” was openly informed by Kraftwerk’s “Showroom Dummies”, containing some brilliantly synchronised synth interplay with Rudden’s bass and a jerky rhythm akin to posing and re-posing lifeless plastic display models in a store window. The central synth melody here is a strange wonder to behold, unadorned as it is by layers and layers of complementary sound, as might have been the temptation of the day. Closing track “Zero Song” is absolutely astonishing – a futuristic nine minute evolving epic that has begins in soundtrack territory before moving on into a haunting, melodic direction that nods to the profoundly uplifting qualities of Bowie’s “Heroes”.

Throughout the album, it’s Steve Bonomi’s peculiar vocal that stands out most prominently. He definitely has that Bowie thing going on, but it’s a voice filtered through the wryness of Howard Devoto: occasionally shrill, occasionally more spoken than sung; positioned on the central reservation between the evocative Bowie and the emotionless Numan. He claimed to be influenced by Bryan Ferry’s louche delivery, but any traces of Ferry’s unintentional croonerishness are buried deep under Bonomi’s punk hangover.

Despite all the right ingredients and some genuinely stand-out moments, the band’s self-titled album failed to register and what was left of the band were unceremoniously dropped by EMI. With the addition of a human drummer, they released a solitary follow-up single, “Marseille”, for independent imprint Scratch, wherein Bonomi manages to out-Jim Kerr Jim Kerr with a stadium-ready vocal, but that was really the end of the Berlin Blondes story.

A new compilation on Barney Ashton’s Strike Force Entertainment seeks to address Berlin Blondes’s almost entirely forgotten history. The set brings together the remastered LP and the band’s singles, marking their first time on CD for the first time; their small and overlooked legacy framed by a definitive history, written lovingly by Ashton through the lens of him evidently being a fan. Like their career itself, this release will more than likely be overshadowed by other, more copious and much more expansive retrospectives – Soft Cell’s Keychains & Snowstorms springs to mind – but as a window into the music of a bunch of unsung Glaswegians with songs every bit as good as more successful acts of the day, The Complete Recordings 1980 – 81 is an arresting but altogether too brief endeavour.

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Quite Unusual: A Swedish Take on Modern Culture

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

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Fredrik Strage’s new book begins with the line, “No one who has seen Fucking Åmal buys a pop-star perfume.”

If that was the only sentence in 242, it would easily sum up cultural observation in the twenty-first century. The reference to Lukas Moodysson’s uncomfortable tale of forbidden love in small town Sweden, set in opposition to the fetishisation of celebrities and the consumption of them through commodities, is not only about authenticity; it is about knowing.

Strage’s day job is to know what is going on. As a writer for the large Swedish daily, Dagens Nyheter (DN), Strage is wired to the underground and a keen observer of trends. He is a frequent guest on daily news programmes, where his role is to highlight the emergence of an EBM artist like Rein to an audience otherwise distracted by reality TV. His podcast, Hemma hos Strage [EN: At Strage’s House], gets close to artists in a more modern format.

242 collects as many articles from Strage’s regular column in DN. They start with a note on Britney Spears’ perfume from 2005 and end with a piece about a children’s tale read to his daughter from 2017. Although the title is suggestive of Front 242, the Belgian godfathers of electronic body music, the band is only referenced in an appended auto-interview – one-fifth as many times as Kate Bush is listed in the index.

Strage’s background is as a fan of bands like Depeche Mode and Liaisons Dangereuses, but his perspective is as broad as his style is light. That’s why Damon Albarn rubs shoulders in the collection with Dead or Alive; Ke$ha with Kraftwerk; and Madonna with Malaria.

We follow him to an underground club in Berlin, where Douglas McCarthy of Nitzer Ebb sprays him with saliva as he sings, and to the Mall of Scandinavia in search of records. At Stockholm’s Bodyfest event, he enters the mosh pit with Karin Bolin Derne. We hear about neo-Nazis invading the synthwave music scene and are offered thoughts on dying alone.

In article 230, we meet Andreas Noreen, presented to the readers of DN as Depeche-Andreas. A life-long Depeche Mode fan from Gothenburg, he brims with excitement at the opportunity to meet the band and have a photo taken during a Stockholm visit. What is omitted in print is that Strage is not only an observer at the meeting; he is a facilitator, having used his influence to open the band’s dressing room doors for Noreen. It’s an act of kindness that is blurred through remote viewing.

Several of the reviews for 242 in his native country have lamented that Strage’s book is not about the magic of the number 242 for followers of electronic music or a novel set in their world. Those would have been interesting ideas to pursue, but this collection is a fun and insightful commentary on popular culture over more than a decade, as seen through a very particular Nordic lens.

Strage’s significance for Swedish criticism is that he approaches culture from outside of the mainstream. In his writing, artists on independent music labels or from alternative subcultures are given their place without the fear of not fitting in. A trendspotter he might be, but the articles collected here succeed in conveying the joy of people making that culture their own.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

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Take It to The Bridge: Leer and Rental

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Thomas Leer and Robert Rental accidentally made one of the most compelling and influential albums of the 1970s. While disco and punk faded around them, they locked themselves in an apartment in Battersea with some rudimentary equipment supplied by Throbbing Gristle and gave birth to The Bridge.

Some of the gear they used had been sourced from Pink Floyd’s Britannia Row studio, but their environment was a million miles from the insulated sound rooms in Islington where it was normally employed. As they noted on the album cover, “All blips clicks & unseemly noises were generated by refrigerators & other domestic appliances & are intrinsic to the music.”

The two week recording period in the summer of 1979 when The Bridge was made was an intensely creative period for the two Scottish artists. Former hippies whose paths had led them to London, Leer and Rental (real name, Robert Donnachie) produced an album that sounded like the future. Side 1 contained five songs that followed conventional structures, while the flip led to a set of ambient tracks that were inspired by Brian Eno and still sound magical today.

The history of The Bridge and the paths of both artists were displayed at the recent exhibition, From The Port To The Bridge, in Greenock. Organised by Simon Dell (right), it captured an enormous amount of detail that had been obscured by Rental’s retirement from public music activity. With care and precision, it laid out the creative flare that burned when Leer and Rental came together, as well as Rental’s notorious live collaboration with Daniel Miller of Mute Records.

Leer’s own career, which entered the mainstream and included releases on Trevor Horn’s ZTT label, was shown with artifacts sourced from his own collection. Dell managed to excavate memories and equipment for the show that brought the careers of both musicians to life in a surprisingly detailed and compelling way.

The story of Leer and Rental begins with hippy idealism. As Dell sets out in an essay accompanying the exhibition, the two met while working as gardeners in Port Glasgow and were connected by a joint appreciation for psychedelic music. They took a lot of drugs and found electronic music through an album by Malcolm Cecil and Robert Margouleff, recording as Tonto’s Expanding Head Band, called Zero Time. For hippies living in communal squats, equipment like that used on the album would have been completely out of reach, but the seed was planted: Leer worked with a friend to make a synthesizer that could be played using nails as contacts.

The pair moved around, starting families and playing punk in Edinburgh, before finding themselves in London. Inspired to make their own singles, they pooled their resources so that Leer could make “Private Planes/International” and Rental could record “ACC/Paralysis.” Part of the DIY revolution that saw the early electronic music from The Normal and Human League emerging around the same time, the singles from Leer and Rental hinted at the gritty, alternative sounds that they would bring to The Bridge.

A turning point came when Rental met Daniel Miller and Throbbing Gristle at the latter’s infamous May 1978 show at the London Filmmakers Co-op. The show descended into chaos, as TG’s music provoked the crowd, but from the riot of thrown chairs and swung basses emerged a set of contacts that would lead to new innovations.

Miller had just released “TVOD/Warm Leatherette” as The Normal, and the two shared an interest in using the new technology that was becoming more affordable and available to create a kind of electronic punk music. They teamed up to tour with Stiff Little Fingers and Essential Logic for Rough Trade, performing as Robert Rental & The Normal in early 1979. One of their shows, at West Runton Pavilion, was released by Rough Trade as a one-sided LP in 1980.

The exhibition displays the backing tapes used by the duo, which they played forwards or backwards as necessary. On the Live at West Runton Pavilion recording, it is near impossible to make out any of Robert’s words shouted or half-sung over the buzzing electronics, but it is revealed through the tape covers that there were titles for the songs. The lyrics might be lost to history, but these details help to fill in a picture of one of the first industrial music performances. It’s a magnificent, epic block of noise and pulsations that would have blown a hole through the accelerated pub rock of punk at the time.

Following the tour, Throbbing Gristle re-entered the picture. The Industrial Records label, started to release their own music, had already issued a single from Monte Cazazza, and the “very friendly” quartet were looking for other artists to get involved with. A signing ceremony was organised at a Soho restaurant, just like they imagined major labels would do, and arrangements were made for an album to be recorded.

In their impish way, TG didn’t let Leer and Rental use their Martello Road studios. Instead, Sleazy Christopherson (who also took the picture that appears on the album cover) hired some equipment from Britannia Row and Chris Carter provided the pair with a quick explanation of how to use an 8-track reel-to-reel system. They were left alone with their Wasp synthesizer, a guitar and a lot of cigarettes to come up with something interesting. A lot of the time was spent trying to make the gear work, and they took clues from a schematic on the reverse of Brian Eno’s Discreet Music album to organise the equipment.

The exhibition includes a Wasp synthesizer (on loan from Mark Warner, Rental’s original having been passed on some years ago), as well as Leer’s Japanese drum machine and a contraption from under Rental’s bed that looks like an effects unit. Forced to work with this limited equipment and working to a deadline, Leer and Rental ditched plans to create a split album and worked together to create the nine songs of The Bridge.

Leer threw out guitar chords while Rental worked the Wasp, and then they took turns laying down tracks with the synthesizer. Their results were released at the end of 1979, and sales generated enough income to allow them to invest in new equipment.

Rental was asked by Daniel Miller to record a single for his fledgling Mute Records imprint. “Double Heart/On Location” was recorded at Blackwing Studios, where Miller had first set up his equipment for Silicon Teens, and it involved Leer and the DAF drummer, Robert Goerl. Recorded by Miller with Eric Radcliffe and John Fryer, “Double Heart” was Rental’s last studio project. The pressure of recording with others and the technical challenges of getting the sound he wanted frustrated Rental, and he invested in making his own studio in Battersea. Although he produced music for The Comic Strip’s A Fistful of Traveller’s Cheques, his perfectionism got in the way of releasing additional material, and there were no further public recordings before his premature death in 2000.

Leer, by contrast, was increasingly comfortable with the recording industry. Also in 1980, he signed to Cherry Red for a five album deal. He was turned off by the man-machine labours of Gary Numan, and an appearance of “Private Planes” on Virgin’s Machines compilation made him worried about being stuck in a futurist rut. His first release for Cherry Red, the single “Four Movements,” revealed his soul and jazz interests and a turn towards more commercially viable pop.

A well-received album, Contradictions, followed. Besides good reviews in the music press, it attracted the attention of the major labels, and Leer’s contract with Cherry Red was bought out by Arista. That gave Leer access to a Fairlight and recording time at John Foxx’s Garden studio. A single, “International,” showed what Leer was capable of. The exhibition features ephemera from this time, including an airplane model issued to promote “International.”

The experience at Arista wasn’t a smooth flight, however, and Leer founded a new act with Claudia Brucken of Propaganda called…Act. Their first single, “Snobbery and Decay,” appeared on Trevor Horn’s ZTT label. It was given the full ZTT gloss — Anton Corbijn promo photos, Steve Lipson production — despite the track spearing the decadence of the entertainment industry.

What followed was swallowed up in the emerging acid house and eurodance crazes. Act was too refined for ravers’ fields and not amped up enough for warehouses. Leer took a long break, and only slowly re-emerged following his relocation to Greenock.

His return to the starting point has led to several albums of interesting and varied material. From the waterfront outside the Beacon Arts Centre, where his memorabilia is exhibited, one can understand the nourishment of the environment. It’s a beautiful setting in the autumn, with clean air and none of the intellectual grime of London. It’s a place in which hardy things can grow.

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One Love for Dubstar

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

Dubstar are back.

The hugely popular dreampop band, who captured the essence of British romance over three perfectly executed albums, stopped working together in 2000. That opened the way for singer Sarah Blackwood to dress in Muji-like costumes as Client B and hammer steel with Die Krupps, but it left a hole in the charts where whimsy and irony used to meet.

A quarter of a century since they first formed, the group is back to fill the hole with One, an album of complex and subversive pop songs collected under a title that signals the reboot of their project. As always with Dubstar, love is not an easy subject, but it really isn’t for those around them.

For an outsider, it is hard to know how to love a Briton. The repression that is released after large glasses of chablis is rarely revealed in daylight hours and is best summed up by the phrase, ”You’re awfully forward!” In their original incarnation, Dubstar provided glimpses into the emotional side of the island nation and set them to the tones of psychedelic pop. The girls and boys of the 90s recognised themselves in the subversive sounds and took them to heart.

Those fans have grown up now, but things haven’t changed for the kids they spawned to replace themselves. For them, One will come as a revelation: all of the issues their parents never explained to them are revealed on the new Dubstar album in ABABABB verse-chorus structure.

It’s going to come as a shock to hear about unrequitted lesbian love on the school run in ”Love Gathers.” They will look at their parents with new eyes after digesting ”Love Comes Late” and its story of feelings recognised too late.

These are subjects that other nations gaily discuss at the dinner table, surrounded by edible food that didn’t come from the Tesco Finest range. Even if things have improved over the past twenty-five years, in Britain they are still matters most comfortably expressed through pop songs. And, frankly, that’s the way they like it.

One’s material shows Dubstar has matured since we last heard them echoing in student dorms and across ravers’ fields. Sarah Blackwood’s voice has maintained its seraphinic quality, as she’s more balti than Bollinger these days. Chris Wilkie’s instrumentation reminds us what we’ve been missing since their Millennial hiatus began.

Kids who were born when Dubstar took their leave have long since left their GCSE results behind. It’s their turn to search for love and to experience the trials of romance in the land of Marmite and Monster Munch. Dubstar know what it’s like, and One is a ready guide.

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Knocked Cold: Darrin Huss on Soft Cell’s Final Show

by coldwarnightlife
written by coldwarnightlife

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]It all started with “Memorabilia.”

Ever since this farewell concert was announced in February, I knew I had to be there. This event would be the culmination of all the joy and inspiration that I felt and experienced ever since I first heard the songs of Soft Cell. Without the music and lyrics of Dave Ball and Marc Almond, I can’t imagine what Psyche would have become.

“Those words you sang, it was my life story..”

It’s nearly impossible to pick favourites. Even if a cover version of “Tainted Love” is what put them on the world map, it’s not as if they wouldn’t have written something like this all on their own. “Torch” or “Say Hello, Wave Goodbye” was more than proof of that.

What made them so important to a young singer and fan of electronic music was the vast dramatic soundscapes they created to present the worldly dramas of the stories they had to tell. I could go on about how each song and album guided and defined my own taste in music and songwriting. My heart was bursting in anticipation on Sunday night.

It has taken me a few days to calm down from the experience in order to critically appreciate how being a member of the audience and sharing the love of Soft Cell’s music with over 20,000 people really made me feel, but now on to the show.

Starting with the crunchy funk of “Memorabilia” (where the “Keychains and Snowstorms” tagline was lifted to define their latest compilation) made a great introduction. Marc dressed similar to his classic 80s leather jacket look and Cool Hand Luke sunglasses. Dave Ball, right next to him, was surrounded by a nice bank of iconic synths.

I loved the fact that the duo aesthetic was boldly upfront, despite backing vocalists and additional instrumentalists lurking in the background. “Monoculture,” up next, was a bit of a shock for me personally, as I have a phobia of song titles with the same first letter following one another. However, I appreciated the statement they were making with the song, and showing that, even on the slightly ill fated “Cruelty Without Beauty,” they still had some great synth sequences to show off.

The surprises continued with two more songs from the belated 4th album, and I have to admit the 3 tracks in a row worked well; but I could’ve lived with one less if it meant having room for some other rare favourites. High marks for turning “Together Alone” into a psychotic horror trip through the performance and visual. One of my early favourites in the set.

The visuals on the screen were very effective for many songs, but more on that later, as next up was “Torch” – where I started crying. This song was simply accompanied by the beautiful sleeve artwork by Huw Feather. Would have loved the full length version of this song, but that might’ve been too much, and without the presence of Cindy Ecstasy it wouldn’t have been the same. At least Gary Barnacle was there to provide his original saxiness!

I had to find forgiveness for another two songs with the same first letter in a row, and “Forever the Same” was the compensation. That one nearly broke me. Especially the amazing orchestration of the 4 backing vocalists taking over for what was originally played on the Melotron. Can’t even remember if there was a visual for this one – I think I sang along with my eyes closed. I was a lost teenager again.

Am I going to review every song? Fuck yes! Keeping it short for some, though, as I admit that I have a love/hate relationship with “Baby Doll”. It was well performed, although the visuals were a bit weak. I would have much preferred “Seedy Films” instead.

“Insecure Me,” of course, is the masterpiece B-side of “Torch,” which are probably the best two songs ever written and put on a single together. Those two songs are pure Soft Cell magic.

Next up with “Where The Heart Is” is where things started to get messy, and I began to feel anxious for my heroes. Marc missed a few words, but we all sang along with the chorus, and what seemed on the edge of disaster ended on a supportive note. “Numbers” was hinted at with the false start of the bassline, but Marc wanted some time to tell the world about his inspiration from John Rechy, who probably most people have never read, as it kind of helps if you’re immersed in underground gay literature. I love the song, and it also freaks me out a little. The visual was pretty sleazy and wacko, so that made up for what was unfortunately a poorly placed moment to highlight this wonderfully odd song. I have read the book as well, so there!

Once again, compensation was made with the achingly beautiful performance of “Barriers,” which I admittedly have tended to ignore the most of all the grandiose B-sides. Well, this live version taught me a lesson, and it must mean a lot to my guys as it’s now on their new hits collection. I would’ve started crying again, but instead my mouth was open and I just stared ahead in shock and awe of the moment I just witnessed.

I honestly think the next block of songs started to skew towards disappointment, as it was very hard to follow the arresting beauty of “Barriers”.

“Loving You, Hating Me” is also a love/hate song (sic!). Marc messed up a line here, too, so suffice it to say I was a bit put off as the Suicide Boys and Girls in the accompanying video were just a little too silly after a while, as well. “Last Chance” was also woefully misplaced as well as being another “L” title. Aghhhhhh! However. this one brought out Mari Wilson. and the whole combination of this kitschy cute duet made me wonder why the hell didn’t they record it like this on the “Cruelty Without Beauty” album in the first place? At least now it;s on the forthcoming live album. Poignant.

The original Mutant Moments style of *Frustration” was kinda neat, but here I could think of 3 other songs from Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret that I would have preferred. I think most fans would agree. “Entertain Me” or “Chips On My Shoulder” come to mind. At least we did get the lovely “Youth” though.

Again, I have to say there are a few Soft Cell songs that are much lower on the list for me and “The Best Way to Kill” is one of them. However, after a few false starts (on purpose?), Marc tore into it with all its arty punk flavour, and the visuals were hilarious – so you got me there, guys!

Following “Kill” with “Meet Murder My Angel” took the whole show further into violent territory, which again made the atmosphere rather daunting for what many may have thought was going to be a fluffy synthpop show. I needed this song however, and boy was it a killer performance. Screechy, creepy and again the amazing choir vocals. I could normally live without “Surrender to a Stranger,” but this time the placement was perfect and the soaring vocals were so fantastic it became an Italian opera and swept me away.

First half could have ended there, as “Somebody, Somewhere, Sometime” (didn’t we already have enough S’sss by now?) doesn’t truly highlight what makes Soft Cell unique, but, well, a nice excuse to use the laser lightshow technique.

“So” we get an Instrumental Break like in the theatre, only I have to dance anyway because I freakin’ love this track. Another “S” but ok.

Now we are at the second half; and, if the first part was a little shambolic (as Marc said) but otherwise amazing, the second half, oh my Goth! I will now compress my review here, as there are no words for the majesty which followed. “Martin,” which I myself have covered and decided to open the Psyche show with at The Islington the night before. Oh, I don’t know what to say – the visual, the vocals, the absolutely everything about this song was beyond my wildest dreams, and then they hit you with “Heat”! I’m sure the fans of the dark dramatic side of Soft Cell would agree that, after those two in a row, you could safely die knowing you had just witnessed the high point of everything Soft Cell needed to achieve at this concert.

However, they were just getting warmed up!

Second album title track, “The Art Of Falling Apart,” was soaring, and as it peaks it’s followed by the truly joyous electro Motown of new song, “Northern Lights,” which is a bit a of a grower, but yeah – sweet!

“Divided Soul” was apparently skipped over, and as much as I like that newer track, too, “Soul Inside” is the original “Soul” title in the œuvre and I just wanted to scream to the sky!

Well, you know I did. After that, it just gets insane.

“What” is cute. “Bedsitter” – glorious.

Then, of course, it’s gotta be “Tainted Love” with the continuation of “Where Did Our Love Go”. By now you realize that all is righteous and good in the world because that single opened the door to all the possibilities that came after.

“Sex Dwarf” was fun and, as almost all reviews have pointed out, proves that Soft Cell won the right to be the most diverse little synth duo ever already on their first album by making this sleazy ditty such a great singalong at the disco – and now having 20,000 people and more screaming and singing those two words. From “Tainted Love” to “Sex Dwarf,” it’s not too far to go with Soft Cell. A necessary evil!

Finally, we say goodbye – the tears of joy mixed with blasts of confetti as the ride of a lifetime through vaudeville and burlesque comes to an end.

Perfectly imperfect – a spiritual mess of emotions, a wild celebration of feelings inside.

Thank you Marc and Dave, thank you Soft Cell.

“Those words you sang, it was my life story”

Love, Darrin Huss

Darrin Campbell Huss is a founding member of Psyche.

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Sound from Vision: The Adventures of Rupert Lally

by Mat Smith
written by Mat Smith

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Over the years, Switzerland-based electronic musician and sound designer Rupert Lally has released a slew of albums covering everything from ambient sparseness to glitch to fantasy soundtracks; his score for Ballard’s High Rise giving Clint Mansell’s music for the film a run for its money.

For his latest album, Lally has embraced his roots in jazz more comprehensively; fusing his elaborate, carefully-wrought electronic compositions with an orderly looseness that working with synths and digital tools too often limits. On the evidence of the fourteen tracks on This Is An Adventure, it’s territory that he is extremely well-adapted to, making this one of his most compelling and sonically diverse albums to date.

In addition to his Bandcamp releases, Lally maintains a film blog, and that gives him an insider’s knowledge of what makes a good, evocative score. That means a track like the restless “Reindeer Flotilla” might have been recorded to accompany a desolate post-apocalyptic scene, while “Where Are You Going With This” features a futuristic–but not exactly optimistic–momentum, a lot like careering through the wrecked Earth of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner and coming to terms with being among the last humans opting to stick it out on the home planet. The beatific “Siren Song” is plaintive and loaded with contemplation, driven gently forward on expressive, wandering guitar enveloped by sultry late-night echo and unobtrusive synths.

The finest moments on This Is An Adventure are where Lally lets his improvisational instinct take charge. “Box Of Rocks” is reminiscent of some of the finest noir moments in the Barry Adamson catalogue: all chunky beats, jangly guitars, churning bass lines and organ-led chords. “Gone To Persia” finds Lally dropping proggy tabla rhythms and rich, pulsing analogue synth arpeggios.

The highlight among highlights is “Miles Brings The Voodoo Back”; its title and architecture nodding to “Miles Runs the Voodoo Down” from the seminal Bitches Brew. Lally’s ode to the centrepiece of Miles’s 70s electronic experiments is a long form, constantly-evolving piece full of shuffling kitwork, vintage synth layers and watery, FX-laden horns, being both reverential and yet unique in its vision.

Mat Smith presents the Documentary Evidence blog.

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