Current 93
In Menstrual Night

With "Nature Unveiled," the foundations for a new musical genre were laid; with "Dogs Blood Rising," the expressive peak that this kind of musical approach could offer was reached; and with "Live at Bar Maldoror," which remixed and blended the most significant moments from previous works, a sonic intransigence was reiterated that evidently did not want to be just a provocation for its own sake but the result of a real artistic urgency. These three episodes, traversed and animated by the oppressive theme of Maldoror, can in a certain sense be seen as a trilogy. And if in some respects, they collectively constitute one of the most significant moments in experimental music in recent history, it is evident that a proposal of this kind, in order not to lose its intrinsically revolutionary and avant-garde character, cannot (by contradiction of terms) be an infinitely recyclable sonic material.

"In Menstrual Night" is an attempt, albeit not entirely successful, to explore new sounds. Perhaps this album only represents a pause for reflection. Or perhaps, even more simply, a divertissement for its own sake to alleviate the tension accumulated with previous works. The cover, featuring a gloomy landscape filled with skulls impaled by black spikes (with a nice erect penis in the background, for those who like to sharpen their sight!), and the broken crucifix photographed inside the booklet do not bode well for great news on the horizon. However, the drawing of a pair of cute kittens joyfully dancing on the CD suggests that something has indeed changed. Mind you, there will be little to laugh about or be cheerful, while there is even less melody here than in the past. Nevertheless, the sound experiments of Current 93 temporarily abandon the monstrous infernal ambiences of previous works to arrive at a more minimal form: the atmospheres clear up, becoming less dark and oppressive, and generally breathing a stylistic and conceptual lightness, new for the band.

Three tracks for a total duration of fifty-three minutes, "In Menstrual Night" actually gathers two recordings originally released separately, both dating back to 1985.

The first is "In Menstrual Night", a single composition of forty minutes providentially divided into two movements. For the occasion, Current 93 consisted of David Tibet, Hilmar Orn Hilmarsson, Steven Stapleton, Diana Rogers, John Balance, Ruby Tathata, Keiko Yoshida, Rose McDowell, and Bee, and if I share this long yet useless list with you, it is only to underscore the paradox of how from this enormous deployment of forces practically nothing came out! "Sucking Up Souls (In Menstrual Night part one)", in fact, is a 21-minute noise collage where voices, choirs, music, and background chatter blend without an apparent thread. Only in the finale does a restless panting raise the tension in the listener, but essentially it is non-music more suited to accompany a state of drowsiness and let the imagination work. Not at all cacophonous, it is ideal for falling asleep and, if necessary, having nightmares. It must be said that our respondents, even if they could, do not reserve any surprises for us to startle us under the covers. And the use of children's voices, chatting, singing nursery rhymes, or even declaiming texts from old Current compositions, rather than instilling unease, has a disorienting effect. The track fades into "To Feed the Moon (In Menstrual Night part two)", which essentially carries on the same shtick for another twenty minutes, this time, however, there are some notes (two to be precise, played from who knows what, repeated throughout the track) and the rampage of a clumsy and uncoordinated drum pattern, driving the piece on strange times, neither jazz nor rock, maybe more like hip-hop! The track, rightly, could also be called "What the hell am I listening to?", but as I said, this is music more suited to passive listening than active listening.

"Killykillykilly (A Fire Sermon)", in my opinion, the most interesting piece of the lot, was originally part of "Nightmare Culture", a mini split with Coil (under the guise of Sickness of Snake). In this regard, I can tell you that David Tibet, Steven Stapleton, John Balance, Boyd Rice, Ruby Wallis, Steve Ignorant, and John Murphy play in it, with results less minimalistic and more oriented toward a more canonical noise. Opened by the famous theme from A Clockwork Orange, the composition will continue for over twelve minutes in the sign of the usual assembly of voices and noises, but with the providential contribution of what seems to be an ultra distorted bass, capable, at the limits of the most insane drone, to pour a barrel of black pitch into our ears, evoking the most sublime of visions. Finally, Tibet deigns us with his presence (so far, either he wasn't there, or he was well mixed among the other voices in the background), but his recitation is immediately drowned out by the violent and punkish declamation of Steve Ignorant, who decisively injects some adrenaline into the whole. The piece proceeds with clumsy incursions of piano and percussion (also noteworthy is the amusing cameo of the sample of Barry McGuire's country-infused "Eve of Destruction"), until it fades again into the theme of A Clockwork Orange.

Work for its own sake or genius? The answer is up to you, and certainly, your level of appreciation for the art of Tibet and company will weigh heavily on the evaluation. In any case, a commendable attempt to change the game and bring a breath of fresh air, a work that will certainly not change your life, but that could drive you to madness if ever you felt the urge to immerse yourself in its labyrinth of voices and sounds, and undertake a challenging attempt at interpretation. From my perspective, in this style, the works that will eventually be born from the collaboration with writer Thomas Ligotti will be far more interesting, particularly the unsettling "I Have a Special Plan for this World," a formidable "musical" adaptation of the homonymous story. But we'll talk about that another time...