Flying Lizards
Flying Lizards

Irishman David Cunningham was one of the most influential figures in London new-wave. An avant-garde composer, he produced numerous minor groups in the boiling post-punk cauldron (including the great Michael Nyman, his collaborator on the second Flying Lizards album), until he decided to leverage his art to form his own band. Thus, in 1979, the Flying Lizards were born, and a year later, their self-titled debut album was released.
It is an extremely original work that deserves attentive and thoughtful listening to be fully interpreted. Cunningham is very adept in the recording studio and uses his skills to showcase disfigured covers and original pieces in a mix of great creativity. The entire album is dotted with countless gags that, upon close examination, reveal uncommon malice and creativity. It's a fun and entertaining, yet sophisticated and anticipatory work that distinctly stands out from the average. It becomes evident that Cunningham possesses an elite background.

As soon as the album starts, you're immediately swept away by the dizzying rhythm of "Mandelay Song," purposefully pushed to the limit with high-speed female vocals; it seems like a recording error, but it's not. It's his amused version of Brecht.
"Her Story," on the other hand, is a refined, heavenly piece wrapped in enchanting siren voices, on a slightly funky rhythm. An exercise in cocktail-lounge of yesteryear, the perfect example of Cunningham's way of utilizing the studio. As an intelligent interpreter of Eno's lesson, Cunningham tailors his pop songs, clothing them in sound events assembled with great taste. The tone of the operation changes, more playful and light-hearted, but the underlying concept is the same.
"TV" is another surreal parody with a swing rhythm that preludes to the irresistible "Russia," a crazy disco-music track with a silly and monotonous chorus, punctuated by rocking guitar riffs. Genius and schizoid.
The cover of Money, by Gordy-Bradford, (released at the time as a single, along with "TV") provides further evidence of wacky and visionary deconstruction, with a disco tempo serving as a stage for his grotesque plays.
"The Flood" shows closer ties to the avant-garde, with its minimalist and hypnotic structure, just like "Events During The Flood," which, as you might have guessed, is a track built on another track. Essentially, Cunningham covers himself.
The disturbing jingles over a metronomic base in "Trouble" remain in the realm of experimentation, from which we move away to return to the cocktail halls with the suave "The Window," for female voice and gentle piano chimes, reminiscent of Air's "Moon Safari."
The oddities and extravagances of Cunningham end here, but what this album has left will remain forever in the history of new-wave. A joke, if you will, but much, much more intelligent than many more "serious" things, or so-called. Unmissable.