Cabaret Voltaire - 'Red Mecca' (Rough Trade)

There's a lot to like in Red Mecca, particularly if you dig cold-yet-still-rambuctious songs in the CV mold. But things are so sharp and metallic it's more like rust than mould. Side one is pretty slow but continues from Mix-Up's more thoughtful moments, with lots of open spaces, more acoustic percussion, and more clearly enunciated singing. Though it's not exactly crooning. It culminates in 'A Thousand Ways' which feels weightless and never-ending, but without any exaggerated qualities at all. I've always gone to Cabaret Voltaire for their experimentalism, their approach to tapes and the interesting guitars vs tapes textures. But the songwriting here isn't half bad. Side two feels slightly more song-oriented, though there aren't any chart-toppers here. I didn't grok enough lyrical content to relate to anything specifically, but there's definitely a confidence that was lacking before. 'Red Mask' is practically a single, with Watson's tape loops dancing all around the more standard industrial rock grind. And it's pitted against 'Black Mask' (the titles are probably something to do with contrasting views of Islam or religion?) which is somewhat looser, around a standard mid-tempo drumbeat and with bleating synth hissing and distant atmospheric textures skirting around a songform. This record reminds me a lot of Savage Republic in a variety of musical manners - the monobeat, the chanted vocalising, the percussive single-mindedness. And like Savage Republic, Cabaret Voltaire are an 80's avant-rock band that hasn't really had their dues yet, at least in the sense that we're not making documentaries about them and they aren't doing reunion tours and these records aren't being reissued. And like Savage Republic, Cabaret Voltaire maybe didn't directly influence many of my peers but more likely were an influence on an influence. One inversion is that Savage Republic were a rock band with heavy industrial leanings, and I would probably flip that around to describe Cabaret Volatire. But like the last record, there are a few guitar lines that, while not exactly Led Zeppelin, have some sort of anthemic, cheerful lift that looks a bit more like on AOR radio than you'd expect -- in this case I'd say the harmonic progression of 'Split Second Feeling'. 'Spread the Virus' is pure evil though - despite a slight free jazz/circus feel at times - it's a goofy dark trip trying to break out of a straightjacket, and there's a nice shuffle to the beat despite all of the tortured growling. Moody, yes, and thirty years old now!

Art Bears - 'Winter Songs' (Ralph)

I'm not sure where the idea of the "power trio" first came from, but I think it should apply here. There's not a weak link in this triangle. My copy of Winter Songs is missing an inner sleeve -- I image lyrics and credits or some sort of liner notes should be there. So I don't know if there are lots of guest musicians present or it studio magic and overdubs are being used to make this mix so thick, because it can't be Frith playing the bass and the piano at the same time. It doesn't really matter except that I wanted to talk about how in addition to the peerless compositions on this album, the actual playing is remarkably expressive. On a song like "The Summer Wheel," Frith and Cutler are so in-sync that it's hard to believe. Cutler's drumming is so languid, yet with a momentum; Frith chases after it, and occasionally kicks it forward like a stone being kicked down the road. If Hopes and Fears is their pastoral record, this is their gothic one. Although there's still an overall medieval theme in the lyrics (and artwork), this is the sound of the black death. The earthy chord changes are gone and in place are strange intervals and macabre tunings. Even if the piece is someone bouncy, like '3 Figures', there's something still a bit doom 'n gloom going on. 'Rats and Monkeys' was a single from this album and it's easy to see why Ralph records would jump on it. The frenetic pace, layered affected vocals and herky-jerky violin part make it feel like the end of the world is happening. Krause really explodes here; most of the vocals are double-tracked or more, and she seems more inspired. The gusto is used to dramatic effect - she has a way of turning on the electricity in a way that the most powerful vocalists in music can do (Beefheart comes to mind, actually). With the political changes going on in Britain when this was recorded, you can feel the rage seeping through tone-refracted misery. The UK was entering a long winter and these are the chronicles. If this is a protest album, its avant-obfuscations probably meant they could only preach to the converted. I first heard it too late anyway - well into the reign of New Labour, which is a whole other can of worms, a horror probably unthinkable to them at the time.