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Rating: Marianne
Your lack of sympathy cannot disturb me.
Imagine leaving the weary city behind and heading off into a leaden Sheffield drenched in the 80’s, wearing only shorts and a t-shirt printed with that handsome Alan Vega face, those inseparable Koss HV/X headphones—glacial companions of cold alienation—on your head.
It’s cyberpunk before its time; its genesis is the Holiday ‘80 EP, that lucid dream directly transplanted into the marrow of the beautiful replicant Marianne, a real acid temporal portal with a view onto synthetic rituals of frozen shores that transport you to the throbbing heart of the synthpop revolution. The Human League, still in their original line-up—Philip Oakey, Martyn Ware, Ian Craig Marsh and Adrian Wright—are those techno-pop bonzes from a constellation of ideas and a sound laboratory where visual art, conceptual provocation, and analog technology are fused together.
Released in May 1980, it’s the last breath of the original line-up—Oakey, Ware, Marsh and Wright—before the great split that would create those two galaxies: Heaven 17 and the new chart-topping Human League.
“The Black Hit of Space” is as if Roy Batty is singing his farewell to the stars: the first contact, the alien signal picked up by an abandoned satellite, an imploding loop, a sonic virus corrupting a vacuum reality, primordial Atari sound trapped inside a hit that becomes too big for the terrestrial universe.
Then “Only After Dark”—the night becomes a black liquid flowing through circuits, it’s the moment of crazy, replicant love, the wild dance of love between software and reality, those synths cold caresses, the voice a whisper lost among antennas, that slow dance of two beings with no soul but who feel everything.
“Life Kills” is the awakening. The replicant discovers pain, routine, the prison of flesh; the words are blades, the sounds are cages. The factory where dreams are born and illusions die. It’s the moment you realize that even machines can suffer.
And then “Dreams of Leaving,” the masterpiece. A cyberpunk novel in the form of a song. A boy dreams of escaping from a school that’s a prison, from a city that’s a labyrinth. But escape is just another illusion; the synths create mental landscapes, electric deserts, highways leading to nowhere. He’s the Blade Runner dashing through the rain, chased by his own thoughts.
And “WXJL Tonight” is the end. A radio broadcasts from a world that no longer exists. The voice is that of a DJ who doesn’t know she’s dead, the sounds are echoes, ghosts, fragments. It’s the moment when the replicant powers down, but leaves behind a dream.
The cover is a deception. A natural landscape, dogs, a man. But it’s all fake. It’s the memory of a world that never existed. It’s nostalgia for something you never lived.
Travelogue is synthetic poetry. It’s the Blade Runner you’ve never seen, the diary of an artificial soul that has learned to dream, the sound of a tear falling on a circuit.
It is the future that has already forgotten us.
While there’s still time, grab those Koss HV/X and dive into listening.
And run, while there’s still time.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 The Black Hit of Space (04:14)
Been out all night, I needed a bite, I thought I'd put a record on
I reached for the one with the ultra-modern label, and wondered where the light had gone
It had a futuristic cover, lifted straight from Buck Rogers
The record was so black it had to be a con
The autochanger switched as I filled my sandwich
And futuristic sounds warbled off and on
The black hit of space
It's the one without a face
It's the one that doesn't fit
You can only see the flip
The black hit of space
Sucking in the human race
How can it stay at the top
When it's swallowed all the shops
As the song climbed the charts, the others disappeared
Til there was nothing but it left to buy
It got to number one, then into minus figures
Though nobody could understand why
The black hit of space
It's the one without a face
It's the one that doesn't fit
You can only see the flip
The black hit of space
Sucking in the human race
How can it stay at the top
When it's swallowed all the shops
I couldn't stand this bland sound any more so I walked towards my deck to turn it off
All I could see was the B-side of the disc which had assumed a doughnut shape with the label on the outside rim
I reached for the arm which was less than one micron long but weighed more than Saturn and time stood still
I knew I had to escape but every time I tried to flee, the record was in front of me
The black hit of space
Get James Burke on the case
It's the hit that's never gone
Time stops when you put it...[on]
02 Only After Dark (03:53)
I feel my spirit fly
Only after dark - ahh
I kiss the world goodbye
Only after dark - ahh
Fight with the city lights
Only after dark - ahh
Run, I'd like to run away
Only after dark - ahh
Won't you disappear into midnight with me
Why don't you come, why don't you come, why don't you fly, fly, fly with
Sweet elusive Fate ,will be our company
Bring out the vamp in me
Only after dark - ahh
Moon, sinful as can be
Only after dark - ahh
It's wrong to feel so free (!)
Only after dark - ahh
Only you know it can be
Only after dark - ahh
Won't you disappear into midnight with me
Why don't you come, why don't you come, why don't you fly, fly, fly with
Sweet elusive In Fade , will be our company
Personal Note from John Von Ahlen :
I give up. Anybody who knows what the words are in the chorus - PLEASE - email me!
I just can't figure it out :
06 Crow and a Baby (03:46)
A crow and a baby
Had an affair
The result was a landslide
The result was a dare
The result was a baby
Who wanted it all
Moved out of the doll's house
Moved out of the hall
With one wing on the town and a gleam in an eye of red
Said "My father was a crow, now I want all fathers dead
Find the fathers of this world, treat them as a fatal foe
Put them in the deepest hole, then cover the pit with snow"
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
I'm just trying to tell you what you'll come up against
If you venture from my side, If you think you're so mature
You will end up in a field, you will be someone's manure
Mushrooms growing from your back
Feeding some damn carrion bird
Do you want to contribute
To the corruption of the world?
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
A crow and a baby
Had an affair
My dream was the baby
The crow was your hair
Parts of me love parts of you
That at least is obvious
Give my baby back to me
You must see it's only just
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
07 The Touchables (03:24)
Speaking of which, what is your choice
Your conversation will suffice
I feel the need that's known to all
Better use it up before the levels fall
You can take me back to the primal drive
You can carry on until we arrive
Hypnotised inside
Now I'm not young and you're not old
I'd rather purchase than be sold
Crazed friends so bold
It's not easy to conceal
When you're so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
They still emit split second screams
When they are touchable
Under the surface just for kicks
Sincerely touchable
You say it's okay, but what do I feel
Guilt, compassion, or Achilles Heel
Little feet march down grey matter hill
Then panic occurs, no seeds to spill
What's the matter now
Please look up and speak
Your spirit's wilting and your flesh is weak
Eight days a week
I can't imagine what'll happen now
I wonder when and I wonder how
The end will come
It's not easy to conceal
When you're so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
It's not easy to conceal
When you're so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
They still emit split second screams
When they are touchable
Under the surface just for kicks
Sincerely touchable
The final answer to all our fears
Abrupt conclusion to all our years
Still touchable but no one hears
They carry on hypnotised inside
09 Being Boiled (04:25)
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Saying stop your sericulture
Little people like your offspring
Boiled alive for some Gods stocking
Buddha's watching, Buddha's waiting
Just because the kid's an orphan
Is no excuse for thoughtless slaying
People don't forget this torture
Just because you call her mother
Doesn't mean that she's your better
Once more with the voice of Buddha
He'll say carry on your slaughter
Who cares for the little children
You may slice with no conviction
Blind revenge on a blameless victim
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Saying stop your sericulture
He'll say carry on your slaughter
Who cares for the little children
You may slice with no conviction
Blind revenge on a blameless victim
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Listen to the voice of Buddha
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Other reviews
By Mike76
It is, in fact, a work that is neither fish nor fowl, neither experimental nor pop, but a confused middle ground.
A few valid episodes are not enough to save such an unconvincing album.
