Thomas Leer & Robert Rental
The Bridge

Thomas Leer and Robert Rental, two electronic musicians of modest talent, decided in 1979 to move from Scotland to England to better embrace the new post-punk atmosphere. They were particularly taken with Brian Eno's ideas on song structure and studio development. Additionally, they were great admirers of the German cosmic couriers, the psychedelia of Barrett, and Kevin Ayers' quirky cartoons. United by this common passion, they decided to compose an album together. The difficult part was finding a label, but everything was resolved with the intervention of Industrial Records, the legendary label founded by Throbbing Gristle. It was indeed them who, after listening to some demo tapes, encouraged the duo to work. Only one problem remained: Rental envisioned an ambient album, while Leer wanted to develop a work of songs only. The solution? Divide the album in half, similar to Berlin-era David Bowie, dedicating the A-side to songs and the B-side to ambient experiments.

After a long struggle, "The Bridge" finally saw the light. What came out of it? It resulted in a strange album containing great insights but also various banalities. The first part is undoubtedly the most successful, consisting of five tracks of experimental and alienating synth pop, influenced by industrial cacophonies and the Tuxedomoon avant-garde. The album was intentionally recorded in low-fi, with white noises that we would call "glitch" today, intentionally created by the duo. To confirm this, the back cover shows a very clear statement: "All blips click & un seemly noises were generated by refrigerators & other domestic appliances & are intrinsic to the music". Yes, you understood correctly, they harnessed the hum of household appliances to create that continuous background noise that would be disturbing in other cases but is an integral part of this work. The spirit was indeed very similar to Eno's, manipulating the recording studio as an instrument. The album was recorded "at home" with an eight-track recorder, always under the supervision of Throbbing Gristle.

The gray and ghostly landscape of the cover is reflected inside in the form of sounds. At the onset of "Attack Decay", one is projected into a nightmare that unfolds between cerebral avant-garde and industrial music. The synths weave chilling and aseptic patterns, with wind gusts, stuttering keyboard notes, and an alienated and terrified voice. In short, a gray and sick mechanical ballet, in the best tradition of British industrial-dark. The following "Monochrome Day" is another martial hypnotic dance, again generated by a raw and decidedly dirty sound. The cybernetic visions of "Day Breaks, Night Heals" prove even more claustrophobic with rubbery reverberations and a robotic, impersonal singing. The rhythm disappears magically and implodes in the terrible cosmic-futurist nightmare of "Connotations", complete with icy electronic nebulae and scattered unsettling noises. The death factory of Throbbing Gristle opens the doors to "Fade Away", a necessary tribute to the Sheffield band, devastating in its hammering cacophonies. The first side ends here.

Now it's time to travel into the stellar spaces of ambient. But let’s be clear, it’s not Eno’s ambient, it’s more of a catalog of found noises, both concrete and artificial, alienated by electronic bands and various effects. The quality drops compared to the first part, the ideas are not many, and those that are there are dragged on too long, becoming repetitive. The best episode is, not surprisingly, the shortest, namely "7/six A.M." where in three minutes, years of cosmic experiments can be felt. Essentially, the track sounds as if Tangerine Dream had turned to industrial. The effect is excellent, a pulse that comes and goes between ominous chimes and icy electronic frequencies. Truly unsettling.

If you want to get an idea of the unrepeatable atmosphere that was felt in England during that period, and if you already own (and appreciate) the masterpieces of Cabaret Voltaire and Throbbing Gristle, get it. It’s not a masterpiece, but it is definitely worthy of a careful and thoughtful listen.