CABARET VOLTAIRE: 2x45 (1982)
1) Breathe Deep; 2) Yashar; 3)
Protection; 4) War Of Nerves (T.E.S.); 5) Wait And Shuffle; 6) Get Out Of My
Face.
Actually, this,
rather than Red Mecca, may be the
band's most interesting contribution to the musical scene of the early
Eighties. On this splice of two recording sessions, which was also the last CB
album to feature Chris Watson as a member, the band shifts the balance over
from the industrial / experimental shadings to the dance beats — this is a very
club-oriented recording — without, however, toning down the overall gray weirdness
of it all. The result is a return to their «shamanistic ritual» schtick, but in
a more accessible and grappling way than ever before: six lengthy «art-dance»
grooves which throw everything into the melting pot (funk, jazz, drone, Eastern
influences, post-punk, industrial, you name it), and sort of get away with it.
Like Red
Mecca, this here is the sound of a self-assured band that has, by and
large, already found what it was looking for — and is now trying to prove to us
that the search has not been in artistic vain. ʻBreathe Deepʼ has the skeleton
of a modern electrofunk groove, but the shrill, dissonant wail of electronically
treated guitars and wind instruments (not just saxes, but even a clarinet
part!) is inherited from the band's avantgarde past and does a good job of
creating an atmosphere of insane hustle-bustle: think Panic At The Factory or
something like that. Totally danceable, but sonically ugly and depressing,
even if the band's traditional weaknesses still show through (namely, any of
these tracks would have had much more impact if they tried building up these
atmospheres rather than spilling everything out at once).
There is a substantial element of diversity,
too: after ʻBreathe Deepʼ, ʻYasharʼ crosses the Cabaret Voltaire aesthetics
with Near Eastern rhythmic and melodic elements, then ʻProtectionʼ goes into a
happier sort of dance music where funk-pop guitar riffs are being offset by mad
sax wailings, then ʻWar Of Nervesʼ slows things down to allow for some fairly
poisonous avantgarde-guitar pyrotechnics, and eventually it all culminates in
the 13-minute long ʻGet Out Of My Faceʼ, the loudest and most brash part of the
ritual, sort of this band's equivalent of the Velvets' ʻSister Rayʼ, only with
a larger pool of equipment and a little more compassion for people's ears. All
of these tracks are united by a single aesthetic style, but they have different
sub-atmospheres, and this helps make the record cooler, though, honestly, it is
still hard to get truly wowed by the experience. But at least with all these
blaring saxes and guitar/synth interplay, you can't really argue that they are
doing something that has since been rendered obsolete — 2x45 is a fairly unique mash-up of electronics, drone, and
(not-so)-avantgarde jazz that is not afraid to cross genre borders without
properly belonging to any of them.
Honestly, I believe it's difficult not to be at
least somewhat impressed by the
results achieved here. As dance music, 2x45
can only be of interest nowadays for retro-futuristic, steampunkish parties;
but I think it still has a bit of «mind-opening» potential, particularly in the
way it mixes live instruments with tape manipulation. And this is the first
time, I believe, where I would actually grant a thumbs up rating to a Cabaret Voltaire
album — not because I was emotionally and intellectually rewarded for making
an effort, but rather because I didn't have
to make too much of an effort to not be emotionally and intellectually rewarded,
if you get my meaning here.
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