This bit is tough because it requires whittling down Cabaret Voltaire's vast discography. I feel like Meryl Streep in Sophie's Choice, but the wife and kids are safe in bed and Daddy's free.
CV straddled the 80's like Yorkshire gods. The band have mythical, mystical qualities in that Sheffield has traditionally had a bit of violent banter with its southern neighbours in Nottingham. Sheffield had steel, jobs, a modern post-war city centre you could get to for about 75p return on the train that seemed space-aged compared to old Market Square, but that meant running the gauntlet of the bloody Owl Squad and that other shower of bladed shite at Sheff-Utd. Remember, this was a period when Forest were still the bollocks regionally for fitba. Although these picks traverse time, i've lumped them together for the sake of not forgetting specific gems later and eargasming over Richard H Kirk's contributions to sonic space.
Throbbing Gristle split just on the cusp of my personal awareness of them even existing through the older siblings of friends, which left a bit of a gap, a gap that CV more than filled. Instead of mullets, TOPY sigils and sending in jizz stains for occult workings, CV seemed to be picking apart understandings of Control via a far more nuanced methodology - rhythm heavy grooves overlaid with dissonant, half-heard, barely recognised vocal tamperings and samples. No-one did vocals like the Cabs. No-one. No-one did guitars like the Cabs. Ever. Names like Western Works create a shudder of recognition even today, but for me it's ALL about Richard Kirk's contribution. Don't get me wrong, Chris Watson and S Mallinder are adept hands with field recordings and studio work, but both lacked Kirk's superior vision, intuition and ears. The evidence for this is apparent when you listen to RHK's solo work. It was even possible to put aside the monster show in the north of Ireland while listening to CV, the dreaded Sunday phone calls to my Dad from home informing him of who had been recently shot/blown up/tortured/mutilated/left for dead and for that i'm eternally grateful.
2x45 has two mammoth tracks, Wait and Shuffle + Get Out of My Face. Both are distilled groovers. Both are a soup of layered collages, rippled riffs, wobbling synth "things" and i love, LOVE, the parade Sgt Major screaming over the one tune. Who would do that, make that choice of sample and, more importantly, why? The Voice of America had already set the tone about who the real targets were - Control and all its manifestations. Friends started mentioning William Burroughs, cut-ups, Brion Gysin and anything Burroughs-related became a huge quest in itself. I can't remember whose home i first heard this at, but a lot of good hash was involved aiding and abetting the sonic malaise at hand. It'd be sweet chewing the fat in person here, a turntable at hand and some ridiculously strong rosin to share with you, but here's corporate behemoth youtube waiting to ear rape you with a wanky mandolin themed-ad intruding somewhere along with the picks. Such is life
The Crackdown release. Fewer rough edges, less tweaks on the vocals, not poppier just more refined studio chops and it immediately sounds more 80's today because of it. Due to these production techniques only one track makes it into the list - Just Fascination. That steady 4x4 kick (that floats around the pace of your actual heart beat) seeded something deep in me. I thought it was a bit poncey at first. There was a video that came out at the time, complete with plucked eyebrows and blocky Miami Vice jackets. What the fuck? But, over a month or two, it delved deeper and deeper into my neural networks. That fucking beat was/is so damned hypnotic. The synth/guitar riff harmonics. When i eventually caved in and went out to buy the release with my paper round savings (always bin the papers first), the vinyl had sold out, so i was forced into getting the cassette instead. Wore the bastard thing out practically, with Just Fascination on almost constant repeat. Fiona H didn't stand a chance after this release. There was a bigger, wider, stranger world out there and one its biggest draws came from, of all places, Sheffield
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