Pere Ubu
The Art Of Walking

THE REVIEW

Fourth chapter of the "historical period" of the Papa Ubu, fresh from a lineup change on guitar (Tom Herman left, and the icon Mayo Thompson arrived, with whom the whole quintet had just collaborated in the sulfurous re-edition of the Red Crayola) and an independent contract (the band had recently been ousted for poor performance -economically, of course- by those at Chrysalis).

From the indie contract (chez mamma Rough Trade) and the contemporary partnership with Mr. "free form freak out," could only derive their most challenging and controversial work (critics of the time dueled for months with blows of "Masterpiece!" on one side and "No! Garbage!" on the other) in their entire glorious career. Alas... It starts (as always) sharply... guitar trill and... "GO"!! A powerful funky, driven by a riff with a vaguely oriental flavor, pierced by the amazing electro-raspberry of the EML by "Genius" Ravenstine, and garnished by the twists of the most restless voice in history. The shape seems to be for great occasions.... To join the trio with the overture, diluted in the LP, there will be two other similar, furious rhythmic performances always of the highest level: "Misery Goats" with (again!) a fine obstinate guitar and singing more possessed than ever, and "Rounder" which means the Talking Heads after a generous intake of psychostimulants... but for the bulk of the rest, alas, it limps a bit...

Five tracks out of eleven (about half of the playtime, truthfully a bit too much) move in "free form" territory, and so far, so good. The problem is that, in this area, they remain far from the brilliant expressive results ("Sentimental Journey", "Thriller!", "A Small Dark Cloud") or the attractive instrumental solutions ("Codex", "Voice of the Sand") of the past. Excluding indeed the faint and suggestive "Rhapsody in Pink" (Thomas relaxed narrator on a well-assorted carpet of water noises and expressionist piano) and, partially, "Young Miles in the Basement" (to be saved for the interesting vocal experiment somewhat mantra-like), they get to be (sorry!) what they never have been: boring ("Arabia": five soporific minutes of atonal organ with no head or tail) or frankly incomprehensible ("Lost in Art" reckless snare drum banging with Thomas yelling loudly -for what I got- claiming his shoes (!), "Crush this Horn" very disturbed sax solo semi-buried by vintage radio interference... but please!!!). A classic odd man out is the dreamy "Horses", an electric ballad, splendidly lopsided harmonically and lurching rhythmically and, in addition, softly sung (not by Thomas!!): in short, the most melodic thing recorded by the Ubu since "Heaven", almost foreshadowing the distant future Fontana period. The rest ("Birdies" and "Loop", although in their own way structured) flows without leaving a trace.

After this work, the band will continue to lose pieces along the way (Scott Krauss, on the bench for half the record, almost relegated to a metronome for the rest, will leave shortly after) without the subsequent inclusion of the jazz-samba polyrhythms of Anton Fier succeeding in reviving their fortunes more than that. From a rather more authoritative source than mine, TAOW has been judged "... their most perfect work after "The Modern Dance""... to me it seems, on the contrary, the classic dead end into which their art has stumbled, at the end of one of the brightest creative cycles in rock history... luckily, eight years later "The Tenement Year" will arrive...