Circus Devils – When Machines Attack

 

Circus Devils – When Machines Attack

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

Doing soundtrack work for film or television is a difficult enterprise. Oftentimes, a musician will only see a rough cut or workprint of a film while he or she works. It’s not for neophytes. Making soundtracks for fake horror movies is even harder.

When Circus Devils released two albums on the same day in October 2013, fans had to be anxiously waiting for what creepy sounds were to come. The trio were comprised of instrumentalists – and brothers – Todd and Tim Tobias, as well as vocalist Robert Pollard.

Pollard is best known as singer/songwriter for the Dayton, Ohio band Guided By Voices. But his work with Circus Devils allowed him to stretch out into more experimental territory. Their debut 2001’s Ringworm Interiors got positive attention, not only for how well it aped horror movie soundtrack sounds from the 60s and 70s, but how it expanded on them.

With Todd Tobias assuming the role of producer, an endless array of found sounds were at the band’s disposal. Sure, there was a Lynchian and Polanskian feel to the material, but there were also echoes of the noise rock and experimental music put out by Chicago’s Touch and Go records in the 80s and 90s.

Since then, the band had gone onto all kinds of fascinating territory. They made concept albums about fictional characters (2002’s Harold Pig Memorial), double albums (2007’s Sgt. Disco) and even ventured into acoustic territory (2009’s Gringo.) It seemed like the musical possibilities for Circus Devils were endless.

So, on that fateful day in October when two Circus Devils albums were released, anticipation must have been high for whatever concepts would be followed next. One of the two albums was titled When Machines Attack. It was a sort of concept album about a dystopian future where technology rebelled against its creators. But how did it stack up?

Turns out, pretty well! After a so-so opener in “Beyond The Sky,” the listener is treated to the brilliantly unhinged noise rock of “You’re Not A Police Car.” Pollard shouts cryptic lyrics about a car chase as a siren wails. The Tobias brothers cook up another sizzling instrumental with pounding drums and thin trebly guitars.

It sounds both apocalyptic and cathartic, not unlike David Yow’s work with The Jesus Lizard. Speaking of The Jesus Lizard, “Bad Earthman” evokes their early noise rock sound with Pollard’s growling vocals and Todd Tobias producing in the style of Steve Albini.

With stop-start drums and bass, and a mean guitar, Pollard almost croons in a bass range while spooky sound effects pop in during the chorus. Once again, Todd Tobias is in fine form. His drumming is inspired, alternately sounding tight like John Bonham, and freewheeling like Keith Moon.

“Idiot Tree” is something completely different. While the previous two tracks had a sort of “controlled-chaos” approach, “Idiot Tree” is tight post-punk in the spirit of The Fall. The drums, bass and guitars even echo the rhythm and riff of “Totally Wired.”

Pollard is prolific in the same gargantuan proportion that Smith was, so the comparison is not just musical but also philosophical. Writer Jeff Gomez compared Pollard’s approach to that of an athlete, writing that “athletes are great on the aggregate, and so is Pollard.” It’s a fitting comparison, as Pollard once pitched a no-hitter.

Elsewhere, we have the trippy but heavy electronica sounds of “Blood Dummies.” Amazingly the Tobias brothers manage to keep things fresh production wise, sounding a bit like early Gorillaz but wholly their own.

Jungle sounds percolate from both speakers while synths screech. Sequenced electric piano and electronic drums are joined by the psychedelic sounds of marimba. It is both evocative of being lost in a rainforest and chilling in a dark club.

If there is one knock against the song, it’s Pollard’s vocal. It sounds a bit too much like drunken rambling, but thankfully his contributions to the song are minimal. He is in fine voice elsewhere on the album, so one bad vocal can be forgiven.

The title track is goth-y post-punk with tribal drumming resembling “The Hanging Garden” by The Cure. In fact, the apocalyptic vibe of the music and the lyrics evoke the “hell on earth” feeling of the entire Pornography album. However, unlike Robert Smith – who sang about chemical dependence and fractured relationships – Pollard goes for the supernatural.

The song is central to the concept of technology taking over the human race – with machines that literally attack. And the music matches the desperation of the theme. The bassline is interesting in particular locking in with Todd Tobias’ furious pounding. The mix also offers a claustrophobic effect with the left and right stereo channels closing in on the listener.

“Johnny Dart” is a fascinating number. It features a stop start rhythm guitar with compressed, distorted bass. Thundering drums by Todd Tobias crash around the chaos, and Pollard – oddly reserved – speak-sings the title ad nauseum. Although it never overstays its welcome, it’s not worth repeated listens. It is a lot of fun in the context of the album though.

A strange song that works better is “Doberman Wasps.” It features a crunchy guitar riff, flanked by electronic percussion and real drums by Tobias. Pollard’s vocal in the chorus is almost percussive itself. He repeats each word several times (i.e., “me me me me”), and it has the feeling of a man-made echo/delay effect.

Perhaps “Wizard Hat Lost In The Stars” is the most sentimental song on the album. A slow detuned arpeggiated guitar plays a beautiful melody. Pollard sings in his sweetest upper register, and his lyrics are just as moving as his delivery. They are charming in their stark simplicity.

“It’s going nowhere” he repeats in the key of e major. It has the vibe of a mid-70s heavy metal ballad. The kind of song where a loud band shocked its listeners by displaying a talent for playing quietly. Not the highest of highs – as we will see – but definitely a highlight.

The mostly instrumental “The Lamb Gets Even” is another highlight. It’s trippy arpeggiated guitars and spooky Moog synthesizers make it sound like the intro to a Roman Polanski film. The ambient noises Todd Tobias conjures makes it easy to picture an establishing shot of a haunted apartment building or creepy woodlands.

But “Centerverse” is where it all comes together. It is almost a hybrid of the early tracks’ sounds with the sound of “Lamb Gets Even.” (Pounding noise rock meets spooky synths.) The passionate shouted vocal from Pollard towards the end really makes the track. The track proves he could front a heavy metal band if he wanted.

With When Machines Attack, Circus Devils turned in an album equally as fascinating as Ringworm Interiors, Gringo, or Sgt. Disco. It may not have gotten the attention of those records – AllMusic didn’t even have one of its writers review it – but it proved that the Tobias brothers and Pollard could still come up with unique and exciting ideas.

Happy Jack/2013

 

The Fall – Shift-Work

 

The Fall – Shift-Work

By

Jesse E. Mullen

You’ve made post-punk records for the past 12 years. You’ve taken the repetition of krautrock and made it a signature feature of your music. British DJs love you while the mainstream press ignore you. How do you survive a changing musical landscape?

So was the situation that Mark E. Smith found himself in during the early 1990s. His seminal post-punk act The Fall had skirted on the outer edges of fame, only to be shutout from the big payoff. When The Fall left pseudo-independent label Beggars Banquet for the greener pastures of major labels Fontana and Phonogram, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for growth.

And by large, it was. Their major label debut, 1990’s Extricate charted higher than any album they had previously released. Single “Telephone Thing” was a minor hit in the UK. From an outside perspective, things finally seemed to be going well for the group. But inside, things were far from perfect.

Smith was disillusioned with the direction that independent music was heading in at the time, particularly the independent music being made in his home city of Manchester. The majority of the music scene was enamored with a style at first dubbed the “second summer of love” in 1988 and later Acid House and Madchester. The majority excluding Smith, that is.

Acid House was a crude form of electronic techno music. It was characterized by the “squelching” bass sound of a Roland 808 drum machine. Much like the punks a decade before, Acid House favored style and rawness over expensive production. It seemed like the kind of thing Smith would enjoy.

However, by the early 90s the scene was becoming tired. Rock groups were fusing the sounds of Acid House with the indie guitar sounds of Creation’s Doing It For The Kids compilation to mixed results. There were genuinely excellent releases from bands like The Charlatans and The Wonder Stuff, but there were also middling releases by bands like The Soup Dragons.

Worse still, the scene was being overrun by gangsters. The once bustling Hacienda – run by New Order’s Peter Hook – was becoming a hub for violence and hard drugs. A stylistic change was around the corner with shoegazing and Britpop, but even this would take a few more years to catch on.

Perhaps this is what inspired Smith to get away for a few years. For the first and only time in his life, he would live somewhere else than Prestwich, Greater Manchester. He Bought a house in Edinburgh, Scotland and continued to build his new label, Cog Sinister.

The original plan for Cog Sinister was to be a label for artists who had fallen victim to the same sketchy business practices that Smith had. However, when this turned into a losing proposition financially, Cog Sinister simply became a vanity label for The Fall’s early 90s releases. But one other noteworthy thing came out of the experience.

Smith married his personal assistant at the label Saffron Prior in 1991. They became romantically involved in 1988, around the time that Cog Sinister got going. However, Smith was still married to Fall guitarist Brix Smith at the time, which caused a contentious situation within the group.

Brix was out by the middle of 1989, and the group transitioned away from their new wave inspired sound of the 80s. In its place was at first a rockabilly influence sound. But gradually, the band would incorporate elements of the Madchester sound Smith so openly disliked.

Whether it was pastiche or parody, the change was beneficial commercially. The loops and samples of “Telephone Thing” helped to bring the band more commercial success than they had had in their native Britain. But when The Fall made an entire album like this with 1991’s Shift-Work, how did it stack up? And was Smith secretly growing to like the music?

Things get off to an interesting start with the rhythmic, militant-styled chant of “So What About It?” Musically, it is a devilish inversion of the Madchester sound, using dance beats and sequenced keyboard loops. Smith seems to be mocking his boredom with the music scene with the title, but it is a successful opener nonetheless.

“Idiot Joy Showland” delves further into Smith’s disdain for the scene in his hometown. The music is again a convincing approximation of Madchester, so much so that it almost sounds like Smith is coming around on the style of music. The lyrics and title, however, paint a different picture.

Smith sings of “idiot groups with no shape or form” that are “out of their heads on a quid of blow.” As previously mentioned drugs and organized crime had pretty much taken over the scene and it was beginning to affect the quality of the music.

Ironically, Smith himself was not opposed to drug use or writing about it in earlier songs. Early single “Totally Wired” was a love letter to uppers. And in Hacienda owner Peter Hook’s memoir Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division, Hook recalls a time when Smith would sprinkle speed into his own beer.

So, we can surmise that it wasn’t so much the drugs on the scene that turned Smith off. Rather, it was the overall sound and vibe of the music. Smith wanted his musicians to be tight and in control of the sound they produced, regardless of their technical limitations.

By 1991, the Madchester scene often favored sloppier interplay between the drummers and bassists of the various groups. So, it is understandable that Smith would be put off by the music. Smith also sings about the “working class [being] shafted” with maybe just a hint of jealousy.

In Smith’s eyes, these “lesser” bands are coming out of nowhere, making easy money and populating the airwaves while he slugs it out in the lower reaches of the semi-mainstream. Musically the song is just as interesting. Longtime guitarist Craig Scanlon plays an extremely catchy riff, while newcomer keyboardist Dave Bush adds spooky noises on top.

The rhythm section is just as strong. Drummer Simon Wolstencroft – often called “the human drum machine” by Fall fans – adds funky techno beats with a choppy rhythm. Steve Hanley’s bass grumbles along melodically, playing off of Scanlon’s leads. It’s a strong song with a fun groove.

Nowhere else is Smith as warm towards his local scene than on “The Mixer.” A first-person ode to a fictional DJ from Jamaica, the two share a magical moment at a sweaty club. It’s the kind of song where one could forget Smith’s visceral takes on Madchester only a few tracks earlier.

It is also a song where the little sonic details add to the overall experience. A handclap sample is followed by Smith’s assertion of “clap! clap!” There are also creepy spoken word/chanting found sounds by an unnamed vocalist. When paired with the visuals of a mouth speaking in the music video, it is almost disturbingly reminiscent of The Twilight Zone.

Smith didn’t always let his sensitive side show. But whenever he did, the results were always spectacular. “Bill Is Dead” on the previous years’ Extricate showed Smith at his most lyrically naked and introspective. “Edinburgh Man” continues this tradition with an ode to the city Smith had recently departed to return to Manchester.

The lyrics describe Smith in the spring and summer time, longing for Edinburgh, Scotland. He had made the city his home for a few years but returned to his native Prestwich. It’s a bit of a sad, longing song. But it also feels strangely hopeful.

Musically, it’s a jangly number with a sweet hummable lead by Craig Scanlon which echoes Smith’s vocal melody. In the chorus, an unnamed female backing vocal and blippy computer effects by Dave Bush join the lush two chord guitar melody.

Reviewers of the time hailed it as a peak of Smith’s songwriting, and it’s hard to argue with that sentiment. It is pure perfection even down to the mixing. The various instruments form a dreamy wash evocative of the summer season Smith sings of.

Rarely if even again would he let his emotions show to this extent – with one exception, as we will get to later. He remained insular until his death in January 2018. But “Edinburgh Man” showed that he could let people into his world on his terms. And maybe that’s enough.

For “The Book of Lies,” Smith decided to switch things up a bit. Rather than taking lead vocals fully, he invited fiddle player Kenny Brady to share vocals with him. Overall, it was a good decision. The music to the track is psychedelic and ecstasy infused. One has to wonder if Smith partook, just to see what all the fuss was all about.

Brady’s vocal matches the chaos. He wavers in and out of tune, not unlike the “glide guitar” effect favored by Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine. However, rarely – if ever – had the same principle been applied to vocals. When Smith joins with his own spoken word bit, the effect is cool and seamless.

Perhaps the greatest song is “Rose.” Built around a tremolo picked bassline by Steve Hanley, record scratches, and flute-y keyboards, the song bears a strange resemblance to “A Letter To Elise” by The Cure. Lyrically, Smith is singing a woman in Hampstead, wishing her well in her relationship.

There were rumors that the lyrics were directed at Smith’s ex-wife and former bandmate Brix, which would explain a lot. The track is poignant in a way that Smith rarely was in the past but was becoming more frequent since 1990’s Extricate – his first album without her since 1982.

However, the track is also poignant for another reason. It is the last song to feature guitarist Martin Bramah and keyboardist Marcia Schofield as members of The Fall. Bramah was a member on their 1979 debut Live at the Witch Trials, but soon quit while touring the album.

Bramah rejoined in 1989, and immediately proved his musical significance. He provided intricate single notes to contrast Craig Scanlon’s manic rockabilly style. Schofield provided a melodic foil for Smith’s signature bark. Her keyboards gave songs such as “Bill Is Dead” a sweetness they would otherwise lack. Losing Bramah and Schofield was the end of an era for The Fall.

Mark E. Smith was not a musician or writer in the traditional sense. Rather, he was almost a collage artist using words like pieces of magazine images. His methodology involved taking pieces from books, adverts, and pop culture turning them into abstract poems. He was an observer, and he did not always like what he saw in the world.

In the end, The Fall became so good at parodying the Madchester sound that they made a legitimately good album in the style. One has to wonder – did Mark E. Smith actually hate the trends of the time? Or did Shift-Work change his judgement towards the sounds? Only Smith knew for sure.

Fontana/1991