I USED TO BE AN ADVOCATE OF THE “electro” revolution in rock, but somewhere along the way I became disenchanted. It’s developed a reliance on all the same old values – that is, essentially, the song; only the instrumentation has changed. For all the talk of unlimited possibilities, a characteristic of electropop is its unwavering hiss-pop sound. Not that that is necessarily bad but the bitter taste of broken promises lingers on.
Perhaps the whole notion of experimentation was just plain naive anyway. After all, what could anyone do that “serious” composers like Stockhausen and Cage and even Reilly hadn’t done already? But the notion is academic really, and it doesn’t alter the fact that Kraftwerk, for instance, made some initial wave of electro-punk also made for some excellent music. It is now hip-hop that probably allows electronics freer rein than anything, but if there’s one group that continues to fly the flag for challenging electronic music it’s Severed Heads.
Severed Heads, to use my own well-worn phrase, make aural-collage music – with tape recorders, drum programming, sequencers, turntables, television and just about anything else they can get their hands on – identifiable as ‘music’ even to the thicker skinned thanks to the Heads’ fondness for disguised yet very discernible, repetitive to the point of relentless, rhythms, and even the odd melodic touch.
A two-man operation comprising Tom Ellard and Garry Bradbury, Severed Heads seem to have been unencumbered by great ambition, so their development has been natural and logical. Tucked safely away in a bedroom studio at Balmoral Beach in Sydney, the Heads recorded Since the Accident, with special guests Simon Insectocutor (guitar) and Stephen Jones (videotape, video synthesizers), during 1982 and 1983, and it was released originally in the U.K. on Ink Records early this year.
Because Ink is something of a subsidiary of Virgin Records, the album now sees release
here on Virgin. It’s Severed Heads’ strength that their sonic explorations are not meandering or aimless, but rather go straight for the jugular. Their imagery is predictably demonic, death-obsessed, violent and nihilistic, and though this schtick has certainly been devalued it still makes for good theatre.
Once past the opening cut, a sort of switching-the-dial-to-find-the-right-channel number which has become a virtual cliche, Since The Accident is an incisive album of abrasive and claustrophobic atmosphere.The songs are built around a grinding rhythm, itself constructed of amassed tape-loops. Some songs – like “Gashing the Old Mae West.» “Golden Boy” and the choral mutant closer “Brassiere, In Rome” – are little more than that, and are less impressive. More successful are songs which establish a broader soundscape, with chiming sequencer lines, Frippertronic guitar and even occasionally a human voice, which creates the opportunity – and space – to allow a song to develop.
“A Million Angels,” which effectively kicks the album off, is almost pretty, as is “Exploring the Secrets of Treating Deaf Mutes,” which actually recalls the Dead Travel Fast. “Godsong” doesn’t live up to its title’s promise, while “Dead Eyes Open”is a humorously morbid little tale that might almost be pop and certainly is snappy and Kraftwerkesque.
Since The Accident is the best album of its genre since Laughing Hands’ Dog Photos. And you know what else? You can play it any speed and it still makes sense. A little twisted maybe, but then it was like that to begin with
_CLINTON WALKER