The name Ministry brings to mind images of big, dumb guitars and arena rock sensibility. But before they created their influential third album, The Land of Rape and Honey, there was Twitch. And this album probably owes more to Front 242 than anything. The only thing remotely resembling their later music is the use of psychotic sampling that Al Jourgensen and Paul Barker will always be known for. A good example is "Like You," the first track on the album. Other differences include Patty Jourgensen singing on the song "The Angel" and Al Jourgensen actually trying to sound unaggravated at times. It's interesting though repetitive at times ("Crash and Burn"), and if you care to listen to Jourgensen's rants, he really does have something to say. "Isle of Man" tells the story of the arrival of Columbus and how the persecution of the Indians will be revisited on the offenders in time. Make no mistake: this sounds nothing like any of Ministry's other albums; listeners may hear how they became what they did.
Official Version was fantastic, but this album was something else again. Easily one of the greatest industrial albums ever made, bar none, Front by Front hit like a bombshell on its listeners and influenced more bands and songs than can be counted. Even the album art design, with everything from a rough pixel computer font cover to harsh video stills and blunt slogans, is a work of art, perfectly in sync with the electric mania inside (unfortunately, in the late '90s the entire Front 242 catalog was reissued with "high-tech" graphics). From the rampaging start of the album, "Until Death (Us Do Part)," not a single note, sample, guttural syllable, or headache-inducing drum hit is out of place. The album's most deservedly famous track can make an equally good case for being the definite EBM song: "Headhunter." A portrait of capitalism as mercenary terrorism with a wickedly compelling mock orchestral bass providing lead melody, "Headhunter" deserves notice not merely for the pounding music but the astonishing vocal arrangements. Richard 23 and Jean-Luc de Meyer serve up the memorable step-by-step chorus in perfect balance, the latter delivering each step like an order from on high while 23's singing adds on even more frenetic energy. The overall feeling of militaristic, blunt efficiency encompasses music, artwork, and lyrics -- thus utterly appropriate song titles like "Circling Overland" and "First In/First Out." "In Rhythmus Bleiben" stands out as a particularly fine song in a series of them, the melange of computer squeals and glitches, building percussion, chaotic vocal samples, and a downright anthemic chorus resulting in one killer tune. The 1992 reissue does the original CD one better by also including another mix of "Headhunter," as well as the entire Never Stop EP.
The late Ian Dury knew for sure that it was a question of the right moment at the right time in the right place, because tomorrow might never arrive. And one day, he was right; it didn't. But his work ethic and never-give-up attitude left the world with some truly memorable music that is as much naughty fun as one can reasonably bear. There are 36 tracks, and all of the faves are here, of course. Who would want an Ian Dury comp without "Sex and Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll," or "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick," or "Sweet Gene Vincent?" So yeah, those are all here, and if those were the only singles the cat released, they would have assured his place in the pantheon of all that happened in the U.K. in the late '70s and early '80s. But what about the other stuff, like the James Brown meets Tom Tom Club meet Kurtis Blow mutation of the title track, with its sweet soul-jazz middle eight? Or, what about the driving piano funkiness of "Wake Up and Make Love With Love Me," with its hilarious dirty boasting and truly infectious greasy groove? And then there's the provocative ska meets reggae and R&B of "I Want to Be Straight," with its proclamation of wanting to get out of the dumps and into a place of stature in the welfare state. There is humor in this music in bushels. But all of that humor points to the heart of a cultural malaise, and at what crap it is to be lonely and brokenhearted and broke in an age of abundance while questioning what that abundance is. All of it backed by a band that never got credit for how tight and versatile it was, how it provoked Dury onto greater lyrical plateaus just to match those killer grooves. It's a shame the guy's gone, man, a real shame. What's worse is that he didn't get nearly the credit he was owed during his lifetime -- he had a better sense of humor and was more musically interesting that James White by a country mile, and had a better band than anybody. Hopefully, anybody who was remotely interested in Dury will pick this little slab of memory up and be astonished. Never has the sound of real rebellion been so friendly or so necessary.
Let's Make This Precious: The Best of Dexys Midnight Runners collects 18 tracks from the genre-hopping creators of "Come on Eileen," including the hits (in the U.K., at least) "Celtic Soul Brothers (More Please Thank You)," "Geno," "Breaking Down the Walls of Heartache," and "Show Me." All of the best tracks here have been cherry-picked from the group's 1980 debut Searching for the Young Soul Rebels and 1982 smash Too-Rye-Ay, which makes a strong case for searching out the excellent 2002 reissues of each, but as samplers go, it's hard to beat this set of infectious folk-kissed, blue-eyed soul-infused new wave jams.
Opening with the swirling, cinematic strings of "The Chad Who Loved Me," Mansun's debut album, Attack of the Grey Lantern, is anything but a conventional Brit-pop record. Few debut records are this assured, especially when a group is developing such an idiosyncratic, individual style. Mansun recalls many artists -- Suede, Manic Street Preachers, Tears for Fears, David Bowie, ABC, Blur, Prince -- without sounding exactly like any of them. Attack of the Grey Lantern is a grandiose, darkly seductive blend of new wave and '90s indie rock, filled with phased guitars, drum machines, and subversive, off-kilter song structures, many of which wind past five minutes. No song is ever quite what it seems -- "Mansun's Only Love Song" balances between soul and fractured pop, "Stripper Vicar" has new wave backing vocals and hard-rock chords, while "Taxloss" marries Suede's dark glam rock with uneasy psychedelia. It's an ambitious, even pretentious, record, but Mansun has enough confidence and skill to make it an astonishingly original debut.
The members of Idlewild were barely in their twenties when they recorded their debut, Hope Is Important. Quite taken with the grunge surge of the early '90s, distorted guitars and textured basslines mosh among Roddy Woomble's screeching vocals, which are also abrasive and wounded. The first half of Hope Is Important has a high-speed disposition of punk chaos reminiscent of Nirvana's Bleach. "You've Lost Your Way" and "4 People Do Good" rampage with angst-ridden themes, and classic vocalic disarray and complexity. "I'm Happy to Be Here Tonight" is where Idlewild truly shines -- an indie anthem wholeheartedly passionate. They may be from the working-class mass of Scotland, but Idlewild's members are intellects with a twist. Hope Is Important exudes the fiery nature of four young guys yearning to make their own way in modern rock despite the popularity of the three-chord riff. Lyrically, the poetry behind such wordplay isn't as apparent as it would be on their follow-up, 100 Broken Windows. But it's there, and it's enjoyably humorous
Post Orgasmic Chill bursts with nervous energy and jarring contrasts yet is as straight-ahead a hard rock album as Skunk Anansie is likely to create. The staccato guitar and drum rhythms of "Charlie Big Potato" and "On My Motel TV" hit like a jackhammer, yet strings and other flourishes polish them into an intelligent, subtle finish. Lead singer Skin's outrage is thoroughly believable in the potent anti-racism screed "We Don't Need Who You Think You Are"; "The Skank Heads" unleashes a torrent of four-on-the-floor rock that couches an instrumental interlude that sounds like the Police in space-age dub
Faith No More's 1997 release Album of the Year featured the talents of another new guitarist, Jon Hudson, who replaced Dean Menta (Menta only toured with the group in support of King for a Day before being dismissed). Like King for a Day, Album is more straightforward musically than past releases and remains one of FNM's most focused and concise works. Recorded in bassist Billy Gould's home studio, Album of the Year would turn out to be their last studio recording before splitting up in 1997. A trio of outstanding tracks -- "Stripsearch," "Last Cup of Sorrow," and "Ashes to Ashes" -- blend hard rock and pop melodicism the way only FNM can, while "Helpless" is an unpredictable composition that alternates between heavy guitar riffing and Mike Patton's tempered vocals. The explosive album opener, "Collision," and "Naked in Front of the Computer" show that the band can still compose prime heavy rockers, while other musical forms were included as well (the romantic ballad "She Loves Me Not," the evil boogie of "Home Sick Home," and the Middle Eastern sounds of "Mouth to Mouth"). For the gripping album closer, "Pristina," the '90s turmoil in Yugoslavia is used as a backdrop for a tale of lovers being separated due to war. Album of the Year was a fitting way for one of alt-rock's most influential and important bands to end its career.
