LOU REED - Metal Machine Music
Forget the Velvet Underground, disregard the androgynous dude rappin' about junkies and transvestites on "Transformer"-- Lou Reed woulda been a visionary if this opus were his only contribution to popular "culture." Y'see, in his infinite wisdom, Lou recognized that our society was heading towards complete & total depersonalization. Think about it: you come to sites like this to get music-- you can't be bothered to actually interact with a buncha creeps at a record store, can ya? In fact, at least 90 % of you won't so much as leave a comment or even read this post, for that matter-- and I'm not bitchin', simply happens to be a fact. What could be more impersonal than that except to mebbe create an album that involves minimal input from flesh & blood? Turn on the amps, lean the guitar up against 'em, set some levels and walk away to cop some speed or junk or whatever the hell Reed's drug of choice was that week. And yet, as if he knew how valued "user friendliness" would be in this anti-society, he created an album that, almost paradoxically, provided/provides that too in spades.
What could be more user friendly than a product that allows you to remove all the existential detritus that accumulates on your cerebral cortex? All that angst that needs to be blasted away like infantile spray-painted musings on a wall by a high-pressure hose? Think of all of the times humanoids have disappointed you-- their lies, their cowardice. The quirks they possess that make you wanna smack 'em across the room; the pettiness they exhibited that resulted in what seemed like eons of meaningless bickering... and that's to say nothing of your own foibles-- was it really a particularly good idea to ignore the countless knocks of opportunity at your door so that you had more time to satisfy the needs of some wretched creature? All of those times you coulda spoken up but instead, due to the dread of ridicule, or apathy, curled up like a worm in a bonfire... almost as embarrassing as a pimply Jr. High picture, ain't it? But never fear: "Metal Machine Music," despite its reputation as noise for the sake of noise is nothing if not cozy. It is, in fact, Soul Solvent.
Return to the Womb Therapy awaits in the comments.
THROBBING GRISTLE - The First Annual Report
And here is the first generation of Lou's Children-- I woulda thought they were METAL MACHINE MUSIC's Children, but after hearing this, their intentionally held back first LP from the same year (1975), I see they were well ahead of the curve. The de facto birth of industrial music. All of the signifiers/devices are in place: the celebration of Serial Killer as Superstar, the "anti-music" stance is already fully developed with abrasive blasts of manipulated tape loops and analog synth scree; the dalliance with extreme rightist propaganda-- yup, it's all here.
Opener "Very Friendly" chronicles the lives of Ian Brady & Myra Hindley, Britain's infamous Moors Murderers with loving and lurid detail, while a foreboding pulse of static seemingly counts down each victim with glee. I'm so desensitized that at certain points I can't help but stifle a giggle (and I very much doubt I'm in the minority), but all the laughing stops when Gen P-Orridge's mantra, "there's been a m-m-m-murder" is looped for the final four minutes of this eighteen minute, depraved epic. Truly creepy beyond description. "Dead Bait" anticipates the minimalist techno all the young kiddies would be pawing each other with their lil noggins fulla E to, complete with sampled vinyl crackles 'n' pops; "Whorle of Sound," is easily the most corrosive cut-- an impenetrable wall of white noise comprised of shrieking toxic sludge. Cosey's guitar sounds equally inhuman, becoming one with the ear-piercing frequencies and subsonic burps-- undoubtedly the blueprint for "Wall of Sound," which appeared on their 1993 box set.
Cane yourself in the comments.
