CABARET VOLTAIRE: RED MECCA (1981)
1) A Touch Of Evil; 2) Sly
Doubt; 3) Landslide; 4) A Thousand Ways; 5) Red Mask; 6) Split Second; 7) Black
Mask; 8) Spread The Virus; 9) A Touch Of Evil (reprise).
Prior to Red
Mecca, the band had released an EP called Three Mantras — a musical representation of their views on
religious fundamentalism, Christian and Islamic, by means of a ʽWestern Mantraʼ
and an ʽEastern Mantraʼ respectively (the liner notes jokingly apologized for
the lack of the promised third mantra and explained that the record was
underpriced to make up for that). However, even though each of the tracks ran
for twenty minutes, they felt this wasn't nearly enough, and eventually
followed it up with a longer, more «comprehensive» album, aptly called Red Mecca so they could offend
everybody. Frickin' hatemongers.
This is often seen as one of the highest points
in the band's career — probably because it is the first Cabaret Voltaire album
which feels like a self-assured statement, rather than just another incoherent
bunch of some-of-it-works-and-some-of-it-oh-me-oh-my experiments. It also feels
better produced than before, even though they were using the same studio in
Sheffield as always (maybe they got better insulation on the windows or fixed
some of the wiring, I have no idea). Other than that, though, it's just another
Cabaret Voltaire album, meaning that its sounds, at best, are interesting and
curious rather than «grappling».
The record symbolically opens with an
industrial/avantgarde reworking of Henry Mancini's opening theme for Orson
Welles' Touch Of Evil — a movie that
did not deal with religious issues as such, if I remember it correctly, but did
dabble around in various sick corners of the human nature; and it is good to
have that hint, because the band's drab, morose soundscapes aren't exactly
reminiscent of «evil caused by mankind» on their own. If I knew nothing about
the sources of the recording, I would have regarded it... well, I still regard it as essentially the
musical equivalent of taking a slow, uncomfortable, stuffy ride on some creaky underground
train through a long row of caves, tunnels, grottoes, and mines populated by
freaks, mutant dwarves, and methadone-addled incorporeal ghosts of Nazi
criminals.
The «danceability» is faithfully preserved and
even enhanced by a more musical than ever before use of brass instruments, but
this still is no music to dance to: ten and a half minutes of ʽA Thousand
Waysʼ ultimately sound more like an incessant, nerve-numbing «musical
flagellation», with the percussive whips making as much damage to your body as
the incomprehensible vocal exhortations do to your soul, than something to
dance to (and besides, it's pretty hard to dance while being whipped). The bass
groove of ʽSly Doubtʼ is as funky as anything, but when it is coupled with a
synthesizer «lead melody» that resembles airplanes flying over your head, your
sense of rhythm will be confused and shattered anyway. Same thing with the
antithetical pairing of ʽRed Maskʼ and ʽBlack Maskʼ, except that guitars and
keyboards on the former sound like malfunctioning electric drills, and on the
latter like the soundtrack to an arcade space shooter.
Unfortunately, in one respect Red Mecca remains undistinguishable
from any other Cabaret Voltaire release: it is hard to get seriously excited
over any of these tracks, even if they sound cleaner, tighter, and imbued with
sharper symbolical purpose. Memorable musical (or even «quasi-musical») themes
are absent (the shrill, whining riff of ʽLandslideʼ is probably the closest
they get, but even that one is nothing compared to what a Joy Division or a
Cure could do with such an idea), «energy level» is not even a viable
parameter, and there is almost no development — ʽA Thousand Waysʼ, after ten
minutes (years) of that flagellation, leaves us exactly where it found us, and
so do most of the shorter tracks as well.
This is why, in the end, I cannot permit myself
to give out a thumbs up rating here: important as this album could be upon
release, it does not seem to have properly stood the test of time. Even its
symbolism has to be properly decoded with the aid of additional sources, and
even if you do decode it, it is
hardly a guarantee that from then on you'll be wanting to stick the CD under
your pillow every night. It's interesting — but it's also boring. Which is a
very basic characteristics of the band as a whole, of course, but since Red Mecca is often highlighted as «the
place to start» with these guys, be warned: it's not too different from
everything else they've done, and unless you've heard no experimental electronic
music whatsoever post-1981, it's not highly likely to provoke a revelation. For
historical reasons, though, it's worth getting to know.
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