Con-Dom
Live In Japan 2003

Sometimes I wonder how some people manage to get by.

Let me give you an example: I've been trying to find something by Con-Dom for ages, whose complete discography, I imagine, doesn't even exist in the living room of Mike Dando, the leader and sole member of the project. What better opportunity, then, than to unearth any of his products at the Industrial Congress which, in this year's edition, would host the performance of what can be considered one of the best front-men in the entire power-electronics scene?

Nothing: the stand at the event contains very few works of our man, who evidently doesn't make a living from music and doesn't need to sell his works even to gullible people like me. My attention inevitably falls on an abundant lineup of this unknown “Live in Japan 2003.” What to do? Obviously, pick up what the convent offers and hope that the Goddess (blind, and perhaps a little deaf) of Noise wisely guides my hand in the ill-advised purchase.

There is truly little to criticize about Con-Dom's devastating performance. Mike Dando's physical presence on stage is nothing short of magnetic: as usual, our man appears shirtless; streaks of blood veer across his body and face with frenzied eyes. Dual microphones in mouth: the piercing screams that emerge from his oral cavity are the perfect accompaniment to the screeching of the machines that infest the ears of the audience and aptly represent that state of Control-Domination which forms the basis of his artistic vision. A chaotic conception of society where the individual is stripped of his humanity and freedom by Organization and Media Manipulation. Politics and Religion are the targets that the British artist decides to ruthlessly assault with his old-school industrial-noise (the project's foundation dates back to 1983), in the style of seminal acts such as NoN, Whitehouse, and Genocide Organ. Not just a provocation for the sake of it, but rather the application of a precise communication method centered around Confrontation: a unique dimension where the hidden contradictions of the system can be exposed, a terrible stage where the traumatic formation of a critical intelligence can materialize, the challenging reach towards a more complete understanding of reality.

Dando's music is the apotheosis of hate, pain, fear: the instruments of Control and Domination. A music that perhaps suffers from the fact that the project hides just one person: certainly not a genius of electronics, but undoubtedly an honest craftsman of Noise. And by Noise, this time, it truly means noise: sonic explosions of unspeakable cacophony, often the result of layered sounds that on their own would already be an assault on our eardrums, let alone when put together like a swarm of killer bees thirsty for our neurons. Only occasionally do the jagged aspects of Con-Dom’s sound seem to soften through tragic orchestrations embedded in the heart of chaos: a ploy that, in truth, only increases the anguish and claustrophobia generated in the listener's mind.

Con-Dom is therefore a multi-sensory experience, the brutality offered to the sight (the horrific video projections and obviously the senseless writhing of the vocalist, who often gets whipped live to achieve that extra touch of agony that doesn’t hurt) is equal to what is served to the ears. For this reason, “simply listening” to a Con-Dom album is inevitably a mutilated experience, deprived of its fundamental component: the visual one.

Even the choice to publish a “recorded” live in Japan is not random, given that the Japanese land, besides always being the homeland of the Extreme, is also seen as a possible way to redeem oneself from the massification of degraded Western culture (made in the USA, of course!). It's a pity that “Live in Japan 2003” doesn’t transpose the lofty intentions into music: the work is more than anything penalized by terrible sounds, which obviously do not aid the enjoyment of the 6 tracks re-proposed here, further compounded by being transcribed into a single 38-minute track, another highly debatable choice.

Pressing play therefore means feeling quite unwell. A tsunami of dissonant creaks and intangible bass will assail you. No, you are mistaken: it is not the noise of the cement mixer that you presume has just parked below your window; no, a new assembly line has not just been inaugurated in your rooms; no, the kitchen blender has not gone mad and is not jumping at your throat. It is simply the beginning of “Blue Sky”, a sonic agony that will only find completion with the last, suffocating, debilitating “Many are Called but Few Get Up”. Winning aspects are not lacking: they simply are not heard, not recognized in a cloud of packed and dense sounds where even Dando’s desperate howls and vocal charisma get lost in echoes and reverberations that rarely hit the mark. The only friendly presence, at last, seems to be the stop button, the last possible passage to a dimension that can bring peace and silence back into our minds.

Why then the decision to write a non-review like this? First of all, to bring into all our homes a small part (probably not the best) of an artist who would otherwise be relegated to dismal black and white pages in the worst internet backwaters. Secondly, to make a desperate appeal: is there anyone out there who can speak to us with knowledge of Con-Dom and teach us something about his harsh artistic vision? But above all, is there anyone who can point us to a way to navigate a discography that, although difficult to find, boasts a myriad of tapes, cassettes, vinyl, and everything else we can imagine?

In the meantime, I remain in wait to intercept the seminal vinyl debut “The Eighth Pillar,” but who knows how much more dirty road I’ll have to travel...