Cavort To The Clangcadence
The 13 Most Essential EBM Albums of all Time (in no particular order)
[Ed. I restored this mid-late 90s (certainly 1996 to 1998) internet article from a print copy I had stashed somewhere. I copied it with typos and factual mistakes: I’m not sic’ing everything. Also, the print has no images, those are all newly selected to match the entries. If you know the author please tell me so I can attribute it or whatever.]
For most industrial essentialists, there are a number of “classic” albums that provide a stable core to our CD collections. Weenies like myself tend to push some “industrial music” albums more than others: I like the dancible material (many call this “electronic body music” or “slaughterhouse”). So, for what it’s worth, I’ve composed a brief listing of albums any purist, fan, or faker should own. Many classic albums of historical merit are consciously mission (e.g. Throbbing Gristle, NON, Cabaret Voltaire, SPK, etc.); if you’re interested in historically significant albums, check out my Generic History section [Ed. sadly I don’t have a hardcopy for this]. In addition, many “lesser known” favorites, such as :wumpscut:, Cultivated Bimbo, Mentallo and The Fixer, etc., are missing because either 1) Their material would be difficult to “find” for the beginner; or 2) Their contributions to the “foundation” of EBM would be minimal due to low visibility (usually for the idyllic notion of defying commodification, which is sometimes a good thing… even so, this dialectic of independent DYI integrity and human survival forces more commercially viable outfits to define the “center”). If you want good, accessible, industrial dance classix, you’ve come to the right place. Now…
The 13 Most Essential EBM Albums of all Time
(in no particular order)
Front 242: Front by Front (♫)
Along with Cabaret and Kraftwerk, Front 242 is one of the most seminal (or ovumal) industrial collectives of all time, with a very distinct sound all their own (until relatively recently). In the late 70’s, Front 242 began as “three art students playing around” in Belgium’s post-adolescent doldrums.
Yet, with a modicum of tape-trading success and a record deal (their first, Geography (♫), released in 1982), Daniel Bressanutti, Patrick Codeneys and Jean-Luc De Meyer joined Richard 23 to make — at least in the early 80’s — some pretty dark and strange sounding ditties incorporating both the euro-disco beats of the day as well as an arsenal of “political” samples. Eventually, the sound moved away from the synth and more into organic territory (although it’s still only keyboards), progressively hardening their aesthetic with violent imagery. The dance-floor accessibility of their mid-eighties albums pit them into the category of “commercially viable,” finally reaching their peak of massive commercial distribution with 1988’s Front by Front (♫). This album is a true gem, featuring their anthem “Headhunter (♫),” as well as a numerous mainstays (“Aggressive Due (♫),” “Slaughter (♫)” and “Angst (♫)”). Punctuated by southern baptist tirades and pummeling base-lines, Front 242 has never matched the album’s greatness. They have since donned guitars and tread into more “American” industrial territory.
Nitzer Ebb: That Total Age (♫)
Around the same time Front 242 was getting noticed, a little Chelmsford England band shouted its way into danceable industrialism with teutonic beats and an “germanic” sounding moniker: “Join In The Chant (♫),” the most popular of Nitzer Ebb’s anthems, remains today, still, a frequently played track with scant evidence of becoming “old.” Their debut, That Total Age (♫) remains their best, rifled with hard, clanging drums, minimalist melody, and a deep-throat vocalist named Douglas McCarthy. Unlike other industrialists of the day, Nitzer Ebb began with few samples, and only the slightest nod to synthesized ambiance, preferring the “beat” to flitter of warbling. Perhaps that is why their music seems somewhat timeless (whereas early Front 242 sounds, well, like early eighties industrial); in any event, we may owe that credit to Bon Harris, the adept musician that bangs out the time for McCarthy’s rants. Later albums, such as Belief (1988) (♫), So Bright, So Strong (1988 — german import), and Showtime (1990) (♫) evidence a tread toward a more synthesized and sampled sound, the latter especially. Their last two albums, however, almost uniformly suck (with the exception, as always, of one or two tracks each) and deserve only the mention of “suck,” titles dropped. Poor fellahs thought they’d try for a Top 40 slot.
Meat Beat Manifesto (MBM): Storm the Studio (♫)
Very unique in their approach, Meat Beat Manifesto began as a heavily sampled industrial outfit and ended up as the premiere “space-dub” gurus. Their earlier work consists of, you guessed it, lots of “beat,” but the “beat” was unique in that it was often sampled from the funk greats of the 70’s, as opposed to military march music. Even with the funky emphasis, however, Meat Beat Manifesto could really impel a body to moving, sometimes self-flagellation, depending on the venue. Now they just wanna make you get stoned. They began as a foursome: a dancer (Marcus Adams), a costume designer (Craig Morrison), a singer and sampler (Jonny Stephens), and another singer and sampler (Jack Dangers) — and Man, they used to put on a crazy show (the former two fellahs in giant foam dinosaur costumes equipped with machine-gun/crutch things hoppin’ around while Dangers and Stephens tweaked their machines). Debuting on WaxTrax in 1989 with Storm the Studio (♫) (a “remix” album of 4 singles, but not one of the remixes remotely sounds like the other!), Meat Beat Manifesto soon garnered a quick following with their tongue-in-cheek humor (“I’m walking on your face…”) and hip-hop savvy, rapping their way to dancefloor success. Instead of the dark, militaristic ethos of other industrial buddies, Meat Beat Manifesto explored nonsensical themes and androgynous sensibilities lyrically, and added in dozens of sampled riffs and beats from who knows where, spit in a teutonic electronic or two — and presto, it’s a weird hard, funky dance thing. Later albums, Armed Audio Warfare (1990 [1988]) (♫) and 99% (1990) (♫) explore the same patterns. Then Dangers got the rave-bug, and did some techno and dub with Satyricon (♫), and ended up in pure dub with the last double-album release [Ed. Subliminal Sandwich](♫). For the most EBM of the bunch, take any of the first three. Still, my favorite is their first.
Front Line Assembly (FLA): Tactical Neural Implant (♫)
FLA were late bloomers on the industrial/EBM scene, only garnering widespread popularity with their 1990 release, Caustic Grip (♫) (recently re-released), unleashing on the dance scene such tunes as “The Grunt (♫),” “Pass The Peas… (♫),” “Gimme Some More (♫),” …JUST KIDDING. Sorry, that’s James Brown. No, really, FLA did cause quite a dance-floor ruckus with “Mental Distortion (♫)” and other singles, building on their landmark single from 1989, “Digital Tension Dementia (♫).” Getting there, however, was quite a different story, one riddled with numerous label switches and an attempt to find a “sound” that strayed enough from the mainstream industrialists. The founding Bill Leeb had a brief stint with Skinny Puppy, leaving in late ’85 to pursue his own aesthetic demons (grabbing Michael Balch and Rhys Fulber along the way). Alas, the first few releases, well, sucked. But that’s bound to piss off many-a-fan; the reason for these initial less-than-enjoyable releases probably has more to do with musical sensibility, skill, and money (translated, good recording equipment) than talent. In any event, by the time 1989 rolled around, Mikie was on his way out, Rhys proved himself as an adept innovator and sound sculptor (thus elevating him to equal status, as opposed to a studio-hand), and the “group” Front Line Assembly began to find itself on major club-house rotation. With a keen sense of danceability, cancer-tumor obsessions (probably picked up from Skinny Puppy), and full knowledge of the Gibson (the cyberdude, not the guitar-dude) lexicon, Leeb and Fulber soon became a tour-de-force by 1992, when Tactical Neural Implant (♫) hit the scene. This album changed single berthing as we know it, its progeny, “Mindphaser (♫),” entering into the classix realm so easily that the usual “test”of success for an album — the reception of the pre-released single — backfired (the single seems to have outdone the album). The uniqueness of the whole album is hard to describe, but suffice it to say that Leeb and Fulber are masters of layering, mixing, and sampling. Unlike the minimalist percussion of Nitzer Ebb, or the funky hip-hop of Meat Beat Manifesto, FLA’s music is complex, where it seems like hundreds of melodies, beats, snippets of sound — whatever — are swirling around your aural processing unit, yet somehow coming together in a coherent “song.” The stuff makes you want to move to the thump, and sing to that underlying melody that is, well, there, but covered over by loads and loads of crunches, squeaks, and booms. This album is incredible whether blasted through open air or contemplated through earphones. Later efforts are as enjoyable, but move in different aesthetic directions (Millenium (1994) (♫) adds in copious guitars to the mix, reviving a Ministry/KMFDM influence into the EBM sectors; Hardwired (1995) (♫) tones down the guitars, but pumps up the beat and “layering” again); and besides, with Tactical Neural Implant (♫), FLA created a standard for themselves and others to meet or beat. Luckly, FLA have met their genius each time…
Skinny Puppy: 12” Anthology (♫)
Skinny Puppy defies description. Dark, brooding, anti-structural machine music, copious samples and screams and strange blurps and bloops picked up from somewhere, manipulated through a high speed blender, and spit out in some political context. Lyrics are hardly understandable on earlier works, but honed in and brought to fore in later albums (namely, The Process (1996) (♫)). Not all of their work is “danceable,” indeed, most of it isn’t unless you can jive to polyrhythms on planet Hell. Anyhoo, the best bet for beginners is the anthology, which comprises most of their EBM work. Danceable darkness, somewhere between the political preoccupation of F242 and the wackiness of Foetus, more consistent beats, and lots and lots of unexpected changes in song structure. No “chants.” In fact, most of Skinny Puppy defies traditional rhythm (save for the dancey stuff) and song structure as sort of an aesthetic “statement.” Ever heard Sun Ra? Perhaps SP is SUN-RA the CYBORG. No bio here, no need for a historical analysis since most people who frequent popular music zines should be well aware that a later addition OD’ed on smack, yet another testament to the “heroin chic.” Great musicians, but alas, though this stuff is “classic,” it does tend to depress, especially given the personal dimensions of the music. Still, their more dancey material is subliminal messaging at its boogie best.
BiGod 20: Steel Works (♫)
Well, try as I might, I have hardly any information on these guys. All their albums are classic, especially Steel Works (♫), from which the single “The Bog (♫)” is listed among the eternal “13 Top EBM Singles of All Time” (that’s another page I’m too weary to create [Ed. it was never created AFAIK]). Industrial at its core, this album, and succeeding ones, continue to promote the genre’s “traditional” fundamentals — factory-like samples, brooding vocal and dark themes. “I’ll take you down there, I’ll take you…” so the chorus goes, and that sweet temptress in black and combat boots gestures me to do the same… (Sorry, stream-of-association; you know, the evocative memories songs tend to trigger..?..).
Laibach: Sympathy for the Devil (EP) (♫)
Of the bands listed here, Laibach strikes a persona most similar to Throbbing Gristle (see my Generic History for details on the latter [Ed. sadly I don’t have a hardcopy for this]). Although their sound is radically different, their emphasis on the manipulation of mythic imagery earns them a top ranking among those who parody elitist, militaristic demagoguery (ironically, I have no scans of artwork to present — believe me, I tried!). In many ways, these folks are post-modern philosophers in disguise; there is a grave sense of playfulness in all their tomfoolery, where listeners are urged to read through the theatrics to something more fundamentally at stake in popular culture: the promotion of Western Capitalism (whip out the Manifesto please). Beginning in 1979 in Slovenia (who knows after all the fighting what that area is called these days…), Laibach began performing electronically mediated soundscapes with a classical bent, mostly to confused audiences who were unable to decipher their “meaning” since they dressed, a-hem, in Nazi regalia. Although their manipulation of Nazi-ethos was parodic, many just didn’t “get it.” Later, their philosophical views were made more apparent through pamphlets, and eventually a book released by an organization called “Neue Slowenische Kunst” (find more info about NSK HERE [Ed. who knows where that link pointed to, but you can find more info about NSK HERE]); with the philosophical underpinnings of their art more apparent, Laibach began gaining some popularity with their anti-Western capitalist (and I stress Western) “music.” In addition to melodic, sometimes beautiful, soundtrack-like material, Laibach was also fond of composing Wagneresque march ditties. The sheer force of the music does, indeed, lend itself to a “teutonic” feel (viz, Germanic sounding bombasts and numerous french horn flourishes). Earlier albums are largely experimental and range anywhere from disco to jazz. later albums, beginning with Opus Dei (1987) (♫) evidenced a trend to more “poppy” structures and familiar territory. In fact, Opus (♫) began a trend of “covers,” for the band, with the first basso treatment of Queen’s “One vision… yah yah!” (♫) [Ed. Geburt Einer Nation (♫)] Somehow this cover makes you giggle, and, unlike other Eastern European “industrial” outfits, Laibach is consciously aware of how their Yugoslavian accent sounds to English-speaking peoples. The trend of covers seems premised on the idea (professed in NSK “propaganda”) that “Western” rock was nothing short of greedy rock-stars groveling for a piece of the pie… and this no clearly apparent than with their bastardization of a Western “rock” classic, The Beatles’ Let It Be (♫), where they render the last from the Fab Four as some sort of corporate abortion, parodying each song with strings, kettle-drums, one of the most hilarious parodies of western-pop to date [Ed. Let It Be (1988, Album) (♫)]. Although their body of work is along these lines, they do make pretty good “dance” music when they try, as with 1988’s Sympathy for the Devil (♫), an EP of 8 songs, 6 of which are dramatically different versions of the Stone’s classic (♫). With everything from “old-school industrial” to “acid house” to just plane “house,” each version offers the treat of a beat and a pretty ominous deep growl “pleased to meet you, how’d you guess my name…” It’s fun, sometimes hilarious, and a must for any good EBM collection [Ed. See also Laibach’s official video for Sympathy for the Devil]. Incidentally, Laibach officially (and politically!) created the non-boundaried state of NSK in 1993, replete with plans for a minting press, official passports, and so on — “The First Global State.” State-craft as art? Hmmmm.
Die Warzau: Disco Rigido (♫)
From the mire that is the “Chicago sound” there emerged a force that has, sadly, only been recognized by fellow artists: Die Warzau. Certainly the “industrialist’s industrialists,” Die Warzau continue to make ever-evolving dance musics with a funky underside. Beginning in the late eighties as a two-man team, Van Christie and Jay Marcus, drawing from various stylistic tendencies, created what is certainly the “essence” of EBM with their release of Disco Rigido (♫). Replete with politically-conscious samples (e.g. Jesse Jackson on equality), machine samples (drills are common), and bizarre dialogic interludes (such as “Sexus,” (♫) where a authoritative-sounding male voice describes how to properly inflict pain), Disco (♫) carried industrial into the brief melodic period of the early nineties. Although this album is often described as “melody-less” (more akin to Nitzer Ebb than Laibach), Christie and Marcus skillfully underlie the percussive dominance with a sampled and synthesized melodic frame — usually in bass tones, and their sometimes unpredictable changes in musical refrains sets the “expected” on its head. Sure, they are fond of “chats” and repeated phrases, but the groovy element of this album sets them far from NE [Ed. Nitzer Ebb?]. The album opens with “Welcome To America,” (♫) lyrically outlining their agenda (fighting racism), but they never beat you over the head with it like Consolidated. This is great dance stuff folks — “Land Of The Free,” (♫) is probably one of the most played ‘club’ tracks of the late-eighties, a pounding, hard-hitting booty-fest (perhaps less melodic than the rest of the album). Later albums evolve into more accessible territory (away from “industrial”), where the group starts playing with jazz and soul… Their last album, 1995’s Engine (♫) is, well, not very industrial, but very danceable in a Depeche Mode / Rick James sort of way. The picture to your left was the only one I could find remotely related to Die Warzau (if you’ve a scan of the album, please send one my way!). [Ed. I don’t remember what was the original image]
My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult (TKK): Confessions of a Knife (♫)
Does my phrase, “but they changed in pursuit of more commercially profitable musics” seem to be getting old? Yeah, I guess so, but My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult is, necessarily, another EBM great selling of its soul to make bread. But, we all have to eat, so we can forgive them, I guess. Anyhow, TKK started off as a concept for an independent film, and ended up as a musical group. Over a series of disco-laced devil-music releases, TKK began to cultivate a Kultish following in their native home of Chicago, their influence spreading as WaxTrax made its way into the car radios and homes of us little weird punk kids getting tired of the Dead Kennedy’s and the Misfits. Their first album, I See Good Spirits and I See Bad Spirits (1988) (♫) is an eerie collection of b-movie horror, 50’s era porn, and, well, satanism. Using both guitar and sampled material, the music is both danceable and suitable enough for late night relaxing (the album consists of various singles released prior); succeeding that album TKK obviously got some machinery, and spit out a series of singles that, along with FLA, set the trend for club music. “The Devil Does Drugs” (♫) (a remix of the debut album’s (♫) “This Is What The Devil Does” (♫)) is a strange industrial-tinged disco dittie replete with some “poor, passive, drug-crazy” female discussing her guilt and, well, telling us what the devil does. After an EP (♫) that collected various successful singles (“Devil Bunnies” (♫) among them, a very different, happy-sounding 50’s-lounge music thing with speed-racer zooms in the middle), they walloped us with Confessions of a Knife (1990) (♫), where, GOD forbid, WOMEN ACTUALLY SING AND CONTRIBUTE . For EBM enthusiasts, the inclusion of female vocals on an “industrial” track was a rare thing (unless it was, you know, sampled). This album also contained the single, “A Daisy Chain For Satan,” (♫) which typified the tone of the album: A brooding bass line, sampled 50–60’s era big band (well, its so warbled through the sampling you wouldn’t know that), a woozy guitar, and a sickening vocalist screaming at the top of his lungs uttering the unintelligible: “Here were I was sit — [something unintelligible] — dream [something unintelligible] — gimme a drink, I need to [something unintelligible] my fucking [something unintelligible}.” What greatness! What drug-infused obscurity! (well, as a youthful member of the fan-club some years ago, I got the lyrics… and well, its not as fun as filling in the blanks yourself). With the thumping beat and agonized scream, what more could a fan ask? Well, evidently they didn’t ask enough, for since Confessions (♫) TKK dropped the “evil” parody and went the way of “sex” (e.g. Sexplosion (1991) (♫)). Oh well, they still put out fun music, but the industrial/teutonic/mechanized/evil bent is completely abandoned. Still, Confessions (♫) need to be on your list, whatever you think of TKK’s later work [One member of the band was so pissed about the change we went off and started the Electric Hellfire Club, whose output, though inferior, maintains the emphasis on “darkness” — :)] [Ed. my favorite entry, but so much “sic” in it: maybe the author was so enthused or sleep-deprived it affected their reviewing skills xD]
Nine Inch Nails: Pretty Hate Machine (♫)
It took almost two years for Reznor’s debut to filter into mass consciousness, and even then, still yet another year to find its way into Rolling Stone . Aside from Ministry, Devo, and Kraftwerk, NIN is the most commercially successful “industrial” group we have ever seen. The year was 1989, and I remember driving in my little silver bug hearing “Head Like A Hole” (♫) for the first time on the way to school, my buddy Jay already a die hard fan. At the time, Pretty Hate Machine (♫), was in a class all its own, a unique blend of samples, tones and passionate, whispery post-adolescent whining — and man, did we love it! Slow industrial ballads? Tortured break-ups? Wow, now we had industrial music that didn’t concern itself so much with the impending rule of androids…we had “pop” themes in a synthetically crafted boom-boom beat, disco that had “serious” human concerns, albeit “immature” ones (there is, despite its characterization as “sophomoric,” no such thing as immature, in my opinion!). The clubs picked it up, and “Head Like A Hole” (♫) and “Down In It” (♫) became stomping stamples — at least for a while. The logics of authenticity soon began to take hold, and, as can be expected, any mainstream success is usually spelled B-E-T-R-A-Y-A-L. Responding to media distortions and appropriation of industrial angst by greek-rock-jocks and sorority girls, Reznor then made one of the most abrasive and angry EP’s of his career. [Ed. probably Broken (♫) but maybe Fixed (♫)]. Too late — the EP still got attention, so, giving-up, Reznor went back to doing what he does best on The Downward Spiral (♫), which debuted on the alternative Billboard charts at number two. Yet, even granting that somehow, once this stuff becomes the fodder of massive consumption, it is no longer valid, we cannot ignore genius when it surfaces. Pretty Hate Machine (♫) remains the number one most significant “industrial crossover” to date, its sound having been copied, stolen, and parodied by numerous bands who owe Reznor the credit (not just for opening the door, but also for providing a song-structure and new “style” of intimacy and personal introspection amidst the beat). For industrial dance, industrial rock, and industrial experimentalism, this album was most certainly a break-through.
Ministry: The Land of Rape and Honey (♫)
The story of Ministry is one of redemption: Beginning as a America’s version of Depeche Mode, the Cuban Al Jourgensen’s Ministry made some of the most syrupy, moronic pop dance singles of the early eighties, beginning with 1981’s “Cold Life.” (♫) He he he. With a number of singles along the same vein, Ministry received little promotion with Wax Trax — and opted to sign with a major label (Arista), which Jourgensen is quick to dismiss as a bunch of Yahoo’s. Well, he can blame the corporates all he wants, but the first two albums from Jourgensen and Stephen George (both 1983), With Sympathy (♫) and Work For Love (EP) (♫) are still pretty good from a electro-pop dance perspective. Then, whether due to the smack-in-veins, or a conscious attempt to piss people off, Jourgensen changed labels (Sire) and began to experiment with harsher sounds, discovering the virtues of Killing Joke’s dance-floor darkness, and wallop: Twitch’ (1986) (♫) debuts with distorted spoken-word lyrical obscurity — still to a danceable beat. This direction reaches fruition with another of the most significant EBM albums — in terms of both influence and its unique approach to electronic wizardry — 1988’s The Land of Rape and Honey (♫). Paul Barker brings to the mix his own influential darkness, and Jourgensen finds his place by moderating his typically high-pitched vocals (not enough cigarettes yet) with a deepened, synthesized garble, releasing to us dance-minded fiends a sonic assault of minimalist keyboard wanking among thunderous drum smashes: “Stigmata” (♫) opens the album and paves the way for bloody foreheads and aching feet, since the only dance appropriate for this ditty is an unrestrained “slam” sort of thing. Wow! Layers of tape effects and keyboards, treated guitars and “real” drums pound out the beat to most of the songs on this album, each a great “dance” track in its own, dark way. Perhaps more “rock” or “punk” than “dance” per se, Land (♫) certainly made its mark in the minds of fellow industrialists, who also took their turns in making furious “guitar” riffs part of the EBM fabric. Later, Ministry picks up Jourgensen collaborator Chris Connelly (Fini Tribe and RevCo) to produce a more harsh The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste (1989) (♫) , and the rest is history. Ministry have never looked back, and on their recently release ( Filth Pig (1996) (♫)) there is hardly a nod to “industrial” sensibility (it sounds like Bauhaus, in my humble opinion). In any event, Land (♫) is a permanent fixture in many EBM essentialist’s collections. [Ed. so much “sic” in this. I would let it slip but since it failed to mention Psalm 69 (♫) while it mentioned every other studio album release by then, I’ll leave my complaint here]
Leather Strip: Penetrate the Satanic Citizen (comp) (♫)
Of all the groups listed here, Leather Strip is the only PURIST electronic endeavor, completely devoid of guitar (pretty much a staple in “American” industrial dance). Leatherstrip is the work of the Dane Claus Larsen who produces, mixes, writes, records, and plays everything on the albums. Rivaled only by Prince in terms of musical dexterity, Larsen weaves both beautiful and haunting soundscapes as well as hard-edge boogie faire [Ed. at least I think that’s it. Oh, the joys of dot matrix printers and truncated lines], but seems to lean more toward EBM than experimentalism (well, until recently, anyhow). His many side projects, such as KLUTE, are avenues for different brands of industrial (KLUTE, for instance, does employ “guitar”). Penetrate the Satanic Citizen (♫) is my recommendation as an introduction to his work (basically, a collection of “best of” until 1993), although nothing should deter the curious from exploring his later work, especially Fit For Flogging (1992/1993) (♫) , my personal favorite among his albums. Larsen uses many “obscure” samples in his songs, often humorous ones, to get his message across (which is, usually, very “anti-drug,” “anti-christian,” well, basically your run of the mill “PC” kind of guy, which is not necessarily a bad thing). Thumping electro beats, beats crisp and complex layering and polyrhythmic structures, and distorted voice all combine to make a powerful sonic onslaught of dance-oriented lectro. The most admirable quality of Larsen’s work is his refusal to submit to industrial “trends” — and when he does, he always does it better (as with Klute’s “Guilty” single [Ed. no such single as far as Klute’s Discogs’ listing is concerned, but “Guilty” (♫) is a song of Excluded (♫)], where the metal-thrash guitar approach of KMFD, Ministry, and others is skillfully deployed in a much more powerful, and “fun,” way). Larsen doesn’t take himself too seriously (as does, say, Reznor or Jourgensen), so his music is always free of pretensions. Fun stuff. [Ed. Klute is now called Klutæ, but Leæther Strip was always Leæther Strip. Non-ASCII letters, “You can’t explain that.” In this alphabet war even KMFDM suffered a pitiful loss.]
Acumen: Transmissions from Eville (♫)
[Ed. this one has a messy history, so you’ll have to dig a bit to find the original releases. Acumen later changed the name to Acumen Nation due to a legal dispute with another band. There were two releases for Transmissions from Eville (♫) under the Acumen moniker, Discogs and Wikipedia disagree on dates and some track listing. Also, they re-release their albums under the new moniker. I’m using a playlist for the version that has more tracks, but there seems to be tracks and versions exclusive to the other one. I have no clue to which version the original author is referring to in their review.]
Acumen is the newest band on the scene offered here, but that shouldn’t defer my wanting to name their recent (1994) Transmissions from Eville (♫) as a classic. This album spawned the hundred-and-one remixes of “Gun Lover,” (♫) a ditty which alternates between a minimalist synth tweek and rap, and a guitar-driven chorus, all to a tinny, hip-hop beat. This is not “traditional” EBM in any sense, and the band’s disdain for labels like “metal” and “industrial” is obvious from first listen. This is, oddly enough, “rock-n-roll” pure and simple. Plenty of big-dick posturing cock-rock bravado to please the most hair-teased metal-bimbo, and enough smashing, hollow-bottom percussion to send little industrialists creaming in their torn jeans.When I heard this album I couldn’t get enough (the only album I’ve purchased in the last four years to get me excited enough to pursue EVERYTHING they ever put out, which isn’t much). Danceable, but “hard” enough for slamming; “mean,” but enough “I-was-a-picked-on-geek-in-highschool” to get the rest of us Smiths fans excited too; humorous, but serious in its angst. Ah, can’t say enough about this emergence. Melody does make an appearance as well, and the boys are not shy of striking a few emotionally twinged chords either. Their most recent release, Territory=Universe (1996) (♫) is also superb, but explores more traditional “metal” territory than the first release. Plenty of EBM sensibility to get you going, I promise. Still, you’ll rediscover why “rock” was so appealing as a youngster too! Great, great album! Can’t wait to catch ’em live! GO BUY IT.
And yet, there’s so much more!
Narrowing things down to essentials is difficult business, but alas, we must start somewhere. Honorable mention goes to Headcrash, whose 1991 Zoth release [Ed. Scapegoat (♫), but Discogs says it’s from 1993] spawned the classic “Free Your Mind,” (♫) a melding of thrash-metal, powerful hip-hop beat, and white-boy rapping; unfortunately that style was completely abandoned in favor of pure Suicidal Tendencies — SO AVOID PURCHASING THEIR NEW ALBUMS AT ALL COSTS.
If you exhaust those groups and albums discussed above, there are yet many more “recent” albums that are destined to be classic: Haujobb’s Homes & Gardens (1993) (♫) is a sure fire hit, comprised of both ambient soundscapes and penetrating dance-floor damage; Society Burning’s debut EP, Entropy Lingua (1996) pits screaming with hard, crunchy beats good for whiplash; The Swamp Terrorist’s 1994/95 release Combat Shock (♫) weds copious amounts of guitar-riffs with hip-hop much more successfully than KMFDM could hope; another likely hip-hop/punk/crunch-in-scream find is SMP’s Stalemate (1995) (♫) ; Snog’s Lies, Inc. (1993) (♫) is probably destined to be a classic, wedding copious depeche mode samples with anti-capitalist tirades and traditional industrial throbs; another likely bet is Steril’s 1996 album Egoism (♫) , whose title-track can be heard all over the USA in clubs near you! [Ed. Steril also has an album titled 400 Years of Electronic Music, but don’t bother: it’s only 1 hour 8 minutes long. What a rip-off!]; Numb’s Wasted Sky , Kevorkian Death Cycle’s Collection for Injection (♫) [Ed. Viewer discretion advised (?), it has an age verification] , and Penal Colony’s Five Man Job (♫) are also all safe bets! Err, I could go on and on with the run-on sentence, but hey, my little fingers can only handle so much before I feel compelled to slam them in doorframes — OUCH — can’t type no more…
[Ed. Let me know if you find a link for listening the missing albums. Some of this section’s album links are are for alternative releases: caveat emptor, hic sunt dracones.]
