Mike76

Unmissable.

@Polkatulk88: about the Bible!

An album that has a reputation as a masterpiece and often appears in various encyclopedias of "essential albums," and is appreciated by much of the critics. I find it a curious little disc, but not that exceptional, maybe because there’s too much going on, too many sudden shifts in style, from the atmospheric and shamanic initial triptych "Ulakanakulot-Decline And Fall-Sweethome Under White Clouds" to the farcical "Baby Turns Blue" and "Ballad Of The Man," to the sabbath of "Caucasian Walk": it feels like being on a roller coaster. Perhaps Lewis is right; the album hasn’t aged very well, maybe because of that theatricality which, to today’s ears, seems excessive.

The first part of the album is too explicitly blues for my taste, not to mention the messy guitar solos that pop up every now and then (which I personally abhor). The second part, starting from "Nothing Man," however, is much more experimental/noisy and interesting; only a few scraps of blues remain here and there. The overall rating is 3.

Referring back to Fedezan76, I too have grown disenchanted with this album over time: seminal it may be, important it may be, but the only truly worthwhile track is the title track, and Verlaine's voice is below the threshold. Moreover, I find it still a bit too anchored in a certain old rock, in the sixties, unlike the New Wave that would come after and was also present at that time. There's really little of the futuristic... if I had been in New York in '77, I would definitely have opted for a Suicide concert over a Television one, for sure.

No Wave wasn't very focused on rhythmic exploration, so it hardly relates to this album which instead offers spectacular rhythms; I would even dare to say proto-techno or proto-drum 'n' bass in some cases, and we were in '81! In fact, if I'm not mistaken, some former members of Palais became key figures in the techno scene of the '90s. The comparison with ACR is more fitting, mainly due to the use of brass instruments and the importance of the rhythmic section which essentially serves as the backbone of the tracks, even though the vocals and bass don't hold the same significance as they do for the English, making PS much less dark and ambient. The cover could certainly have been improved, but the album is still surprising today and is definitely worth rediscovering.

"Walking In My Shoes" is a haunting song, too bad the melody of the chorus resembles "5 O'clock in the morning" by the Village People.

Album recovered through the questionable compilation "Far Away In Time," which is nothing more than a "Metro Music" + bonus passed off as a best of. At first listen, I have to say I was disappointed; the album felt a bit too lightweight. I mean, I expected a pop album for sure, but perhaps something bolder, more over the top, a bit like "The B-52's," an album balanced between kitsch and genius. Instead, I found a work that at first seemed too regular, almost like a homework assignment, with a sound that felt overly polished and flat. However, in the end, I was won over by the verve and sense of fun that this urban music exudes, or as is rightly said in the review and comments, I was captivated by its genuineness and spontaneity, and indeed, in the end, you inevitably find yourself whistling it... From nine till five I have to spend my time\ at work The job is very boring, I'm an office clerk\The only thing that helps pass the time away Is knowing I'll be back at Echo Beach some daaaay.... Rating 3.5.

Sure, connecting back to comments 22 and 23, very interesting in this regard is "23 Minutes Over Brussels" (which can now be found as a bonus disc in the reissue of this first album), a testimony of a short show in June 1978 when our guys opened for Elvis Costello (!) and the audience was not at all tolerant towards them (you can hear continuous "Buuuuuuhh" or chants like "Elvis! Elvis!" in the background). Vega & Rev stoically endure for a few songs, then at the beginning of "Frankie Teardrop" something happens on stage, Vega yells a "fuck off!" and the performance ends prematurely. It would be fantastic to have the video.

These are the films I've always preferred to watch with the "right" friends, those with a great sense of trash, where we could crack up laughing at every mutilated mannequin, every spilled tomato sauce, or every implausible scene (in this sense, my heroes besides Fulci are D'Amato, Mattei, and Lenzi). Indeed, some special effects in this film are particularly well done, even though the stuffed tarantulas and the glove-dog have a homemade quality that is almost endearing. I also recommend watching Fulci's "The New York Ripper," which is less famous than this one but almost equally entertaining.