Halloween is coming. My favorite holiday. And as much as
your humble author would like to spend the upcoming weeks glued to the chair,
watching old B-Z grade cult horror films like I do every year, I have essays to
write, academic articles on political advertising to read, and tackle the every
day demands of 4 college classes. Most of which requires a lot of writing. So I
guess this review will act as good practice for me. Problem is, I really don’t know if I
stopped writing about albums because I was bored with it, or if I really could
not think of anything to say about any album I was listening to. Or if I was truly preoccupied with learning how to become an excruciatingly boring academic researcher. So I think
I’ll ease myself back into it and discuss a recent favorite of mine I haven’t
really listened to in a while. You know, good ol’ fashioned nightmare music.
Just in time for the Halloween season.
Right now I’m listening to “Slug Bait- Live At Brighton,”
which is the fourth track. Its sound is haunting my brain, and now in “Maggot
Death- Live at Rat Club” it’s using the same nightmarish noises to warp the
grey matter beyond recognition. This is not an album to take lightly; in the
former track, an audio sample of a child muderer’s confession to police is
especially unsettling. Then again, I could make the same argument for every
track on this album. The whole damn thing is damaging to any psyche, and prolonged
exposure to it means you like it, therefore you’re either morose people like me
or its creators:
Peter Christopherson (programming, tape manipulations) first,
mostly because I read moments before writing that he did the photography to
Pink Floyd’s album cover for Animals.
Beside that, working with other people (mostly through music videos) like Trent
Reznor (the infamous Broken movie),
Sepultura, Danzig, Rage Against the Machine, Ministry, and even commercials for
McDonald’s. Sounds eclectic considering this is one of four members who put together tracks
like “Slug Bait- ICA,” which details the murder of a seven-months pregnant woman and her
husband (I would discuss lyrics here, but if you really want to know, I would
rather you look them up for yourself).
Genesis P-Orridge, (Neil Megson; morbid utterings, bass
feedback distortion) whose grandmother was an occultist and is himself one.
Cosey Fanni Tutti (guitar mutilations), a former stripper and pornography star who is married to fellow TG member:
Chris Carter (electronics, screeches, and other zapping
noises). So, as you can see, we have uniquely creepy and effective credibility
among these merry band of four.
Now keep in mind: these are just ordinary people who made
this record. Listen to it; I truly dare you to, and it is an album that is
meant to be dare-worthy. And don’t let the 20 minute running time to “After
Cease to Exit” discourage you. Think of it as a total immersion into their
world for a while. The first half of the album goes pretty quickly, which gives
you a solid foundation for a good first impression, but it is that 20 minute
odyssey that acts as the real purpose as to why the album was made. It’s also
the title of the song that really says it all about the avant-garde composition
to the song. What you hear could really be the sounds of the afterlife created
by those who quite possibly have experienced it.
Because when you consider the plain cover and the fact that
it is one of the pioneers of Industrial music, a term TG themselves coined, you
begin to appreciate just how inventive this album really is. Sure, the average
white-bread conservative will be repulsed by its content, but anybody with a
modicum of appreciation for darker material will understand it. Being one of
the first Industrial records, it strives to establish just what that is:
somewhere between experimental, hardcore punk, and electronic music, as well as
incorporating the band’s supremely demented quirks and tastes for sounds never
committed to tape before.
Naturally whenever a band is the first to set a following
for a respectable genre, the first album is bound to carry some praise with it.
Which holds true to my opinion of the album. But no matter where its placement
is in the Throbbing Gristle catalogue, the album still sounds like just that: a
blueprint. The substance is there, and so is the expression of ideas and
possibilities, but the quality of the sound aches to be mixed a bit better so
these sounds can be enjoyed properly. However, if one were to go all the way
and buy the vinyl, or even the CD, be prepared to grind an axe for when you
have to cut your arm to get one (most CD copies go for $25 and up, vinyl about
twice that).
Is it worth that much of a price tag? Since I deeply admire
Throbbing Gristle, I want to say yes, but this music is truly only for those
who understand the intents and purposes of experimental music mixed with
disturbing overtones. I have dropping blatant hints that this would make a
great birthday or Christmas gift to my parents who seem reluctant to get this
for me. I don’t blame them; besides being expensive as hell, it truly is one of
a kind in terms of provoking art.
Music: 8
Length: 8
Lyrics: 7
Significance: 8
Meaning: 7
Overall Impression: 8
