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Here it is, the registration confirmation email has arrived.. "now I too am part of the Debaser club" I think with satisfaction. I click, browse, and peek here and there through the reviews and... what? No, it can't be, there must be a mistake! Nothing on the legendary Bauhaus? Does no one know this iconic band? Nothing on "In the Flat Field," a seminal and epoch-making album, an absolute milestone of gothic and dark wave? Nothing about the deep emotions and the claustrophobic anguish that this album continues to evoke twenty-five years later, making it still extraordinarily modern and relevant even though it dates back to 1980? Nothing on the first track, splendid, "Double Dare", practically a manifesto of dark with the creepy and sinister opening riff that flows into an obsessive and martial beat? Nothing on the title track, where Peter Murphy's screams become desperate and at the same time majestic? Nothing on the next "God In An Alcove," almost boisterous in its stadium-like chorus and fascinating thanks to the robotic voice of the leader? And nothing indeed on this extraordinary singer, Peter Murphy, who is capable of spanning with disarming ease from the pure dark of the three aforementioned tracks to the pure rockabilly of "Dive"?
Then comes what, in my opinion, is the masterpiece of the entire album: "Spy In The Cab"... fantastic, unique in its cold opening to any form of communication to the outside. It is pure claustrophobia, cubed anguish, a sense of rarefied despair! It alone justifies purchasing the CD!
Then come the less fortunate "Small Talk Stinks" and "St. Vitus Dance" which in any case have the merit, if there was ever a need, to confirm Murphy's talents, the true protagonist of the whole work. At this point, one witnesses the authentic sacrificial rite of "Stigmata Martyr", a track that a lover of gothic finds hard not to fall in love with: the pressing and obsessive rhythm at first, the macaronic Latin pronounced by Murphy after and the lacerating closing screams create an irresistible mix, a true cult track.
The one that closes the album, "Nerves" is a hypnotic track, that seems never to end, almost reminding us of this band's endless music, which unfortunately never achieved great success in our country (even today it is very complicated to procure this masterpiece; I had to download it myself!) but which undoubtedly has one of the most exciting pages in the history of rock in general.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Double Dare (04:52)
I dare you, to be real
To touch a flickering flame
The pangs of dark delight
Don't cower in night fright
Don't back away just yet
From destinations set
I dare you to be proud
To dare to shout aloud
For convictions that you feel
Like sound from bells to peal
I dare you to speak of your despise
For bureaucracy, hypocracy- all liars
I dare
I dare
I dare- you- you
02 In the Flat Field (04:39)
A gut pull drag on me
Into the casm gaping we
Mirrors multy reflecting this
Between spunk stained sheet
And odourous whim
Calme eye-flick-shudder within
Assist me to walk away in sin
Where is the string that Theseus laid
Find me out this labyrinth place.
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field.
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Yin and yang lumber punch
Go taste a tart, then eat my lunch
And force my slender thin and lean
In this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
Of black matted lace of pregnant cows
As life maps out onto my brow
The card is lowered in index turn
Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn.
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field.
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Let me catch the slit of light
For a maidens sake
On a maiden flight
In the flat field I do get bored
Replace with Piccadilly whores
In my yearn for some cerebral fix
Transfer me to that solid plain
Hammer me into blazen pain
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
And drag me there with deafening haste.
04 Dive (02:10)
We're going down
We're going down
We're going down
To the kamikaze dive
Pussy Galore
Fishnet leatherette
Psuedo sumo wrestler
Dangerous dances
The dragons claw
On the door
K-Tel oriental
The monkey's paw.
You're a dead ringer for Madame Butterfly
You're so necromantic
Stitch my thigh
Mixing molotov cocktails
Snappy little fingers
Venomous and vain
In the subterrain
We're going down to the kamikazi dive
Like insects in a Chinese lantern now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
We're going down to the kamikazi dive.
We're feeling so alive, what's showingLike manic moths in Chinese lanterns now
05 The Spy in the Cab (04:27)
Hidden in the dashboard
The unseen mechanized eye
Under surveillance
The road is full of cats eyes
It's sick function to pry
The spy in the cab
Coldly observing- callously reserving
A drivers time
Automated autonomy
Playing on his mind
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
An eye for an eye
A spy for an eye
An eye for an eye
A spy for a spy
A twenty-four hour unblinking watch
Installed to pry
Installed to cop
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
I spy with my little eye spy with my little I spy with my
Little eye spy with my little I spy... spy... spy
06 Small Talk Stinks (03:32)
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
See the young man in his new gown
Small talk stinks
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Something that he's never had
He says he loves you with flowers
A sentence should be like a serpent
Quick with a sting in its tail
String me a line that has meaning and depth
There's no small talk with walky talkies
Small talk stinks.
I said it stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks.
You whisper sweet nothings chit-chat-back-chat
There's no idle gossip in braille
Taking combs three times an day
Twice an hour
Indentikit cute lips from wall to wall
See the young man in his new gown
Stand in line for the photo call
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinksSmall talk stinks
08 Stigmata Martyr (03:39)
In a crucifiction ecstasy
Lying cross chequed in agony
Stigmata bleed continuously
Holes in head, hands, feet, and weep for me
Stigmata oh you sordid sight
Stigmata in your splintered plight
Look into your crimson orifice
In holy remembrance
In scarlet bliss
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
Father, son, and holy ghost
Stigmata Martyr
09 Nerves (07:01)
Nerve ends tick in flicker book animation
One eye's closed in fear, anticipation
Will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
What if?
What if?
Nerves.
Tell tale tongues lick at seven senses
Brittle spittle sparks you are defenceless
The fabric of dreams is ripped apart
Nerves.
As you feel the twist of the shadowed dagger
In your pumping heart
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Sense of serenity is shattered in the glint of splintered glass.
A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
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