Rema-Rema
Wheel in the Roses

There is no light at the end of it all….

There is no light at beginning”

(Rema Rema “Fond affections”)

I'd start with the concept of a disturbed ballad.

“And what concept is that?” -you might ask me- “a ballad is always disturbed”.

Oh yes, you're right, a ballad is always disturbed. And, whether its substrate is intimate, amorous, or social, the motive is always just one: lack.

(Then, ok, I already wrote the word “always” three times and it's a bit annoying, so do me a favor, reread everything and add a few “perhaps” wherever you see fit)…

Where were we? Oh yes, lack.

...and since lack is the very essence of existence (and I tell you this without citing all the eggheads who support it) we can easily understand the ability of folk to break hearts and souls... and truly break them, damn it...

Then, of course, it helps folk to securely lean on the form most suited to its object, namely (experts say) a series of ambiguous notes between major and minor, called blue or azure notes.

And form is not nonsense... form (forms) are the foundation of the house.

But it's not the disturbance of the soul I wanted to talk about. Or, at least, not just about that.

What I wanted to talk about is the sonic disturbance. Not a strange thing, since the era from which the examined relic hails is the rather adventurous post-punk period.

Imagine a ballad, with its classic beautiful melody, but imagine hearing it in a sort of hallucinatory factory-laboratory, with a hammer beating a monotonous and elementary rhythm and a sinister vortex of sound puffing like a toxic and nasty gust of wind.

Then add reverb and feedback as needed along with bits of scattered noise.

In short, the eternity of lack in the mortar (or the crucible, you choose) of the most unhealthy post-punk.

Only then, the eternity of lack is always the same. And that's where the beauty lies.

Then you can even make the comparison if you like. In the first This Mortal Coil (a marvelous project from the early '80s that reinterpreted many forgotten great names), you find, polished as befits, a cover of this “Fond affections”. It's beautiful, gorgeous. But it is, indeed, another thing.

Anyway, the little record offered here (the first or one of the first published by the legendary 4AD) consists of four tracks, two recorded in the studio, two live. (“Fond affections” is live).

The atmosphere is that extraordinary of the period, the influences (the most radical possible) as well.

And the other masterpiece, besides “Fond affections”, is “Rema Rema”, a ferocious sound sarabande with Maureen Tucker-like drums and something reminiscent of the Fall and certain Krautrock.

The sensation is that of dancing on the ruins. And also of fierce and desperate irony...

And that strange company name, Rema Rema? Boh…

There is a story by Julio Cortazar, of which I actually have only a vague memory, where a little girl recounts her life in a strange little house where a very fierce tiger roams the rooms quietly.

In that house lives Rema, a kind and sweet girl whom the little girl often calls upon. And those two little words (Rema, Rema) whispered in a place where we might be devoured at any moment seem very effective to describe the music of this group.

But, even though in the lyrics of the song someone is alluded to walking through the rooms (the tiger?) making mm mm mm, perhaps that Cortazar story has nothing to do with it…

Aloha...