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Rating: Expressing vehemence and ferocity in music is not very difficult. It's as easy as making "noise". The problem arises when one wants to express this anger through a program, a technique, a "musical" idea that is already revolutionary in itself. This does not mean "taming" the force, but rather ensuring that the force is the end, not the means. The means used by Mark Stewart and the Maffia were equally devastating.
The legendary leader of the Pop Group embarked on a solo career, debuting first with an EP, and then releasing this extraordinary work. Assisted on the occasion by the Maffia, who are none other than the Tackhead under a different name, Stewart arrived at a form of universal language that has few precedents in the history of rock. This record was recorded between 1982 and 1984, but it can be said, without a doubt, that it is timeless. Its greatest merit is precisely this: universality. Not only for the great subversive charge contained at the level of lyrics and condemnation of the Western capitalist system, but also for its sound, extraordinarily "vital", for the explosive mixture of different elements, all united by Stewart's "primitivist" spirit.
Indeed, the underlying mood is not very different from that of Y by the Pop Group. What changes are the means, influenced by the presence of the Maffia, and an even more pronounced modernism. At the "avant-garde" level, in fact, this album goes even further than Y. Here, dub, electronics, trip-hop, reggae, break-beat, scratching, jazz, soul, gospel are present, deformed under a "wild" lens, scarred by an animalistic urge, a utopian revolutionary desire.
The recording studio is used as a mechanical workshop, dismantling and reassembling each track throughout its duration, through every type of sound manipulation. This makes its progression totally unpredictable, with overlapping of multiple sound layers, sudden breaks, unexpected samples, unforeseeable rhythm changes. Melody is almost entirely absent, in favor of a structural dissonance.
Listening to a track like "High Ideals And Crazy Dream", one cannot help but be pervaded by a sense of disorientation, of loss of clarity. An invisible lens indeed slows down, deforms, destructures everything, "dirties" the sound (like listening to a demagnetized cassette? Well, it's the same), undermines the heavy dub with disturbing sound events: sirens, jazz trumpets, alien electronics. Above all, Stewart's voice, a wounded animal crying out its despair in a terrifying echoing jungle.
"Blessed Are Those Who Struggle" does much worse: in the first minute alone, years of avant-garde are encapsulated, with a fundamental techno rhythm, stripped bare by an impressive succession of sounds. This continues for over 4 minutes, forgetting the word "song", except for those 4 minutes.
One is astounded to hear the disco-house beat of "None Dare Call It Conspiracy", crossed by metallic voices of industrial origin, and synthetic laser lines. It is never possible to understand exactly what is happening, and this creates an effect similar to hypnosis.
The trumpet call in the subsequent "Don't You Ever Lay Down Your Arms" serves precisely this purpose, to hypnotize with its blurred tolling, now closer, now further away. The sound planes of the album are not only altered "longitudinally," during the course of the track, but also in depth, with a skillful work on volume during mixing.
To tell the truth, there are a few slightly more "normal" tracks, but do not think that the reggae of "The Paranoia Of Power" is then so "linear". The celestial female backing vocals, the Afro-tribal percussion, and the usual noises have the same stunning effect. The only thing that changes is the somewhat continuous rhythm.
In "To Have The Vision", it is Stewart's voice that is tortured, rendered liquid and shapeless by a sinister electronic sound, which also enjoys infesting a rhythm that is still reggae, but is like reggae played by Orbital.
"Jerusalem" is a fanfare for crowd noises and funeral orchestras, both haunting and dreamlike. Another breath of fresh air is provided by the title track, with its marble dub step, keyboard refrains in the distance, and filtered voice. All in all, however, the danger is averted.
Stewart offers as a farewell another bloody murder of the song form: "The Wrong Name And The Wrong Number", 5 minutes on a well-concealed industrial base, cacophonic noise, rap declamations, and seismic shocks.
Well, if you still haven't understood what this is about, I'll just say that this album is a punch in the stomach, a slap to conventions, a rare example of true avant-garde, a devastating act of musical revolution. But if you want, I can be even briefer: this album is legendary.
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