Interpol - Our Love To Admire

The most surprising thing about Our Love To Admire, once you’re over the initial shocks of a) that wilfully non-Interpol-esque cover art and b) Carlos D’s new varmint-chewing facial hair, is the fact that for the first time the band have cracked open the shades long enough to allow a few rays of light to penetrate the ever-gloomy world which they inhabit. Granted, it isn’t quite a complete change of weather – Most of Our Love To Admire is still draped in the same perma-drizzle atmosphere which throttled Turn On… and Antics – but when Paul Banks suddenly sounds borderline excited about “Giving something new a try” on No I In Threesome you do wonder if maybe, just maybe, they’ve started to find some fun in this rock stars lark. Or at the very least, in threesomes. However, for each glimpse of a happier place there’s still a shitload of foreboding waiting to bundle the good vibes up in a carpet and fling them off a bridge; it’s hardly an album collecting glow sticks and boarding the bus bound for party-central. But then again, Interpol without the darkness would be like Editors with an original idea or The Fratellis without a Leo Sayer lookalike upfront: unequivocally wrong.

It starts spectacularly. Pioneer To The Falls is a magnificently ominous thing, all skeletal guitar riffs writhing like landed eels, a rhythm section laying weighty footprints down in the back and Banks’ spectral vocal floating wraith-like across the top. As a raspberry blown at those who speculated on the negative effects the move to major label backing may have produced, it’s loud, long and pretty darn-tootin’ decisive. It’s an archetypal Interpol song, albeit deeper, richer and more detailed than anything they’ve managed before. And that’s a common thread. Something like Pace Is The Trick would have been good on Antics, but here it’s extraordinary. Utterly sure-footed, utterly beguiling and hypnotically meticulous in the manner it slowly unfolds each section.

Lead single The Heinrich Maneuver crackles with the freed energy only known to those who have extracted themselves from a crappy relationship. Mammoth is mean, spiteful and delivered with mocking indifference by Banks. But for both, and indeed elsewhere, it’s the way in which the elements of the track click into place with a Swiss watchmaker’s precision and artistry that really hits home. The tempo drops towards the end. They’ve always had a knack of closing things in suitably downbeat fashion and it’s no different here. While Wrecking Ball swings a sad arc of despair with all the slow-building momentum of its titular entity it’s Lighthouse which really shows how far Interpol have come. Washes of Daniel Kessler’s shimmering guitars lap over solidly grandiose brass surfaces and Banks sings a torch song that peels back the taciturn veneer that normally cloaks his voice in icy detachment. Of course, it’s cool as fuck, but there’s a surprising amount of warmth in it too.

Pah. We leave Interpol alone for five minutes and they pull this trick on us. This isn’t the same band we last saw in 2004. It’s a louder, harder, bigger, bolder, smarter, happier, more confident, more innovative, better band then the one left behind. Screw the major label backing, screw the rumours of inter-band tension, Interpol are operating in another galaxy to the majority of those who claim to be their peers.

Interpol - Antics

With their spectacular 2002 debut, Turn on the Bright Lights, Interpol set an immeasurably high mark to follow, and its popularity has ensured equally high stakes: If the band stumbles on this highly anticipated follow-up, their humiliation will be very public...

By David Moore

It's hard to imagine what spurred the density and gloom of Turn on the Bright Lights, an album that, in retrospect, sounds like a popular band reacting to massive overexposure; its masterful statement of bruised withdrawal begged to divide a large fan base, not create one. There was nothing about Interpol's self-contained, visionary debut that might have suggested their subsequent eyebrow-raising catapult to fame, particularly given their aversion to the traditional single format. Perhaps Paul Banks' lucid expression of discontent and impending dread spoke to an increasingly frustrated audience inundated by a generalized threat. Or maybe Interpol's popularity is simply a case of viscerally powerful music confounding formulas of public taste, breaking through purely on the basis of song writing merit. Either way, Bright Lights set an immeasurably high mark to follow, and its popularity has ensured equally high stakes: If the band stumbles, their humiliation will be very public.
Fortunately, the members of Interpol understand what other bands take for granted: Careers aren't necessarily made or broken by second albums alone, and an ideal follow-up needn't engage the perceived potential of a defining debut or consciously redefine a pre-established sound in order to be effective. Redefinition, in particular, is a non-issue for Interpol, because one of the most enduring pleasures of their first album is its timeless singularity. Accordingly, it has been well understood that Antics wasn't going to be, nor could it be, Bright Lights 2. Bootleg versions of new material-- notably the live recordings of "Narc" and "Length of Love" that leaked last summer-- didn't suggest a radically altered aesthetic or faceless repetition, nor does Antics deliver either. Interpol avoid common sophomore pitfalls because they refuse to engage the immense weight that surrounds this release, and their tenuous position between shrewd self-consciousness and diversionary costume changing informs this album's openness and plasticity.
Antics exudes a preceding aura of heaviness-- even the packaging is heavy; the album's cryptic liner notes consist of little more than stark grayscale photos and epigrammatic Morse code spelling out bits of song titles ("Length", "Narc", "Cruise", "Exit", respectively). An image from the band's debut appears on the first single, "Slow Hands", and becomes a representative metaphor for the album as a whole: After reflecting on the aftermath of a soured relationship, Banks takes the "weights" described in Bright Lights' "Obstacle 1" from his "little heart" and projects them onto the woman who presumably put them there to begin with. Musically, however, the song is far removed from the layered density of Interpol's former material, exhibiting pristine, un-muddied production and a chorus ("We spies/ We slow hands/ You put the weights all around yourself") that slithers and stomps with post-punk dance-floor swagger. Similarly, Antics casts off the weight of advance hype, stewing anticipation, and unreasonable expectations, and wisely distinguishes itself as a strong collection of singles rather than as an immaculately cohesive album. And, where Interpol were once synonymous with emotive desolation, they here opt for an atmosphere of poignant resignation.
Opener "Next Exit" is immediately jarring; a tranquilized doo-wop organ progression and spare percussion announce a very different band. It is explicitly clear that Interpol have changed, from the band's more casual tone ("We ain't going to the town/ We're going to the city/ Gonna track this shit around") to new mixing techniques: Carlos D's bass and Daniel Kessler's guitar are relatively hushed in the mix to make room for Banks' underscored vocals, allowing him a range of expression previously unexplored and buoying the band's newfound pop leanings with lyrical eloquence. His vocals on tracks like "Narc" soar where they were once buried in the impermeable fog of their surroundings, and many who found his delivery in the past to be occasionally monotonous (company that includes Banks himself) will find his melodic range here to be a welcome change of pace.
Although most songs evince a clear shift to singles territory, a natural progression of the band's sound is evident. "Evil" employs a Pixies-esque bassline and upbeat rhythm section to counterbalance its ambiguously bleak lyrical themes. The band demonstrates judicious restraint on "Narc", relegating a potentially overbearing blanket of synth strings and organ to a peripheral role while punching up Kessler's crisp guitar lines and Carlos D's almost imperceptibly fluid bass work. The syncopated funk bassline and disco-pop rhythm of "Length of Love" initially seem to be at odds with the song's lush orchestration, but these counter-intuitive touches add a dynamic element to the limited confines of the song's composition. The band hasn't lost its knack for exploration and epic construction, though; "Take You on a Cruise", "Not Even Jail", and "Public Pervert" steep the album's middle section in the kind of dark theatricality that distinguished their debut, while the expansive "A Time to Be So Small", with its deliberate pacing and depiction of "cadaverous mobs," concludes Antics with unsettling macabre.
Though Interpol couldn't be expected to surpass their previous heights, it's difficult to imagine a savvier or more satisfying second step. But the real revelation is that the band has wisely ignored a short-sighted perception of their career which dictates that where Bright Lights was an audacious plunge from a great height, Antics is the crucial landing. Even on those terms the band has succeeded. However, their liberation of form emphasizes the fact that, in the grand scheme of Interpol's career, this is only one in a series of great, if not Great, albums. Antics shows Interpol shedding the weight of their accumulated baggage and staying a while.

Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights

One might go into a review like this one wondering how many words will pass before Joy Division is brought up. In this case, the answer is 16. Many are too quick to classify Interpol as mimics and lose out on discovering that little more than an allusion is being made. The music made by both bands explores the vast space between black and white and produces something pained, deftly penetrating, and beautiful. Save for a couple vocal tics, that is where the obvious parallels end. The other fleeting comparisons one can one whip up when talking about Interpol are several -- roughly the same amount that can be conjured when talking about any other guitar/drums/vocals band formed since the '90s. So, sure enough, one could play the similarity game with this record all day and bring up a pile of bands. It could be a detrimental thing to do, especially when this record is so spellbinding and doesn't deserve to be mottled with such bilge. However, this record is a special case; slaying the albatross this band has been unfairly strangled by is urgent and key. Let's: there's another Manchester band at the heart of "Say Hello to the Angels," but that heart is bookended by a beginning and end that approaches the agitated squall of Fugazi; the torchy, elegiac "Leif Erikson" plays out like a missing scene from the Afghan Whigs' Gentlemen; the upper-register refrain near the close of "Obstacle 1" channels Shudder to Think. This record is no fun at all, the tension is rarely resolved, and (oh no!) it isn't exactly revolutionary, though some new shades of grey have been discovered. But you shouldn't allow your perception to be fogged by such considerations when someone has just done it for you and, most importantly, when all this brilliance is waiting to overwhelm you.

Patricia (Pat) Morrison - Reflect On This

The Morticia of the punk and goth scene, Patricia Morrison, offers up this 'one and done' solo offering and what a delightful treat it is. Despite not sounding like anything she'd been involved with prior (and why should it?) she presents herself as an assured, accomplished frontwoman in her own right, with well over a decade in the industry under her belt. Neither the punk fury of the Bags or the Gun Club is present, nor the gothic bombast of her time in The Sisters Of Mercy, this has a plaintive, stripped-down twist on post-punk-cum-hard rock. Recorded in 1994, the '80s were over and Patricia looked ahead to re-imagine herself in an almost '90s singer/songwriter context. Why she didn't follow-up with anything else is beyond me because this is proof the woman was gifted.

I’ve played this non-stop while ripping the CD. It's infectious as hell and doesn't deserve its obscurity.

Gun - Taking On The World

Back in 1989 when Glasgow rock band GUN released their debut album I was 24 years old and spending the majority of my time listening to Guns N Roses. At the time, I recall hearing the fantastic lead single ‘Better Days’ and thinking it was very Def Leppard sounding and it was some time later I found out GUN were indeed Scottish.

Lead single and opening track ‘Better Days’ is a belter of a track with catchy rock/pop guitar that was highly popular at the time and very much evident in chart music. With singer Mark Rankin singing about dreams and hopes the lyrics throughout the song act perhaps as a statement of intent suggesting this is a band that is prepared to fight to get to where they want to go! Ultimately the listener is left in no doubt of GUN’s street toughness as Rankin delivers the chorus “hold your head high… cause you know I’d die for better days”. ‘The Feeling Within’ and ‘Inside Out’ follow with hints of Simple Minds and influences of American ‘hair-rock’ highlighted. ‘Money (Everybody Loves Her)’ starts off with a tasty guitar intro accompanied by a drum-beat that sets the tone for the hypnotic echo-like chorus of “deep down everybody loves her” that fans will love to sing along to.

Title track ‘Taking On The World’ is more of a slow burner and with Rankin singing “I swear they will never break me…taking on the world” the story of a band rising up from the street (and taking on the world) is once again evident. Indeed, listening to the album now I can’t help but think some of these tracks would have sounded great in a Rocky type movie. ‘Shame On You’ for me is a real stonker of a track with the guitar and bass sounding terrific and complementing Rankin’s gritty vocal perfectly in what is one of my favourite album tracks. ‘Something to Believe In’ and ‘Girls in Love’ are also high-points before the album is closed-off with ‘I Will Be Waiting” where a young Sharleen Spiteri (of Texas fame) does a great job enhancing the track with her mesmerising backing vocal.

With 10 tracks including five singles and clocking in at just under 45 minutes, it is hard to find any real low points and GUN and their producer (Kenny McDonald) did a fantastic job in delivering Taking On The World  an album many rock fans feel is one of the best debut rock albums by a Scottish group. Timing is everything and GUN perhaps arrived on the rock scene a little late to reach the heights their material arguably deserved.

Bazza Mills

Xmal Deutschland - Viva

Viva represents how Xmal Deutschland mellowed with age. No longer kicking and screaming like Siouxsie and the Banshees in their punk days, Xmal Deutschland tone down the dissonance and funereal atmospherics in Viva. Fans of the group's chaotic early records might disagree, but Viva is Xmal Deutschland's finest moment. Xmal Deutschland aren't trying to be scary anymore -- their 1982 single "Incubus Succubus" was creepy stuff -- just beautifully depressed. The opening track, "Matador," recalls the band's old gothic fury; however, it's more focused and accessible. The jumpy new wave drums and dreamy mid-'80s keyboards of "Matador" edge the group closer to pop, recalling the Cure in their transformation from the horsemen of the apocalypse to melodic gloom-rockers. "Matador," the band's catchiest single since "Incubus Succubus," was remixed for the clubs as well, but only the original can be found on the Viva CD. It's inevitable that vocalist Anja Huwe would be compared to Siouxsie Sioux; the similarities are striking, like Ian McCulloch and Jim Morrison. Nevertheless, Huwe has found her own voice on Viva, hitting the high notes on "Matador" with palpable passion. "Sickle Moon" and "Feuerwerk (31.dez)" are haunted by Joy Division's dense guitars and foreboding basslines; they display Xmal Deutschland's more mature approach of crafting songs instead of slamming people over the head with repetitive drones. The abundance of synthesizers also give Viva a lighter feel, preventing the music from becoming overwhelmingly bleak, especially on "Eisengrau," "If Only," and "Illusion (Version)," the latter only appearing on the CD. Although Xmal Deutschland went downhill from here -- 1989's Devils was blatantly commercial -- they're kings of the castle on Viva.

Xmal Deutschland - Toscin

Xmal Deutschland's second full-length album is a creative high point, a Teutonic marriage of Siouxsie & the Banshees, inviting Goth-pop and the majestic sonic spaces of the Cocteau Twins. Less off puttingly bleak than the quartet's earlier album, but without the unfortunate candy coating of the albums that followed, these 11 songs are precariously balanced between neo-psychedelic pop in the traditional 4AD style -- the opening "Mondlicht" would not sound out of place on a This Mortal Coil album -- and the more aggressive, artsy sound of their first EPs. The formula is clearly winning; "Incubus Succubus II," a much glossier remake of the song that first garnered attention for the group in the underground clubs, features a less tortured (but still German-language) vocal from Anja Huwe over a smooth, throbbing pulse that trades in the spiky scrappiness of the original for a clean, but not antiseptic thrust. The clash of styles actually works quite well, giving Tocsin a palpable creative tension that adds a frisson of intensity to what might otherwise be just another collection of Goth-pop tunes.

Xmal Deutschland - Fetisch

FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! To translate a line from the rare ZickZack 12” single “Incubus Sucubus”, is how your first impression of Xmal Deutschland should sound like. A physical, rhythmic flirtation with a colossus that captures a raw, pulsating energy; a resonance that throbs and shudders with an acute, refreshing sense of being alive.

“Fetisch”, the album, harnesses enough of that resonance to be a vital post punk release, one of the few records that actually has some semblance of purpose, meaning and belonging in the present day. The 'mystery' which many reviewers have referred to stretches further than the simple exotica of their singing in a foreign tongue.  Thankfully some of these 'mysteries' are best left unsolved allowing a temptation to continue savouring the subject from a safe distance. But it is that allure again, that having to know what they’re banging on about, which draws one on.

While most West German post-punk and new wave bands of the early 80’s explored Atavism and Dadaism, Xmal Deutschland applied the dogma of German expressionism in dark-punk. Thus “Fetisch” is a mixture of gothic-rock, noise-rock, and electronic-rock; it is heavy, relentless, expressionistic and austere.  In the middle of all this pandemonium, only the lyricism of "Boomerang" provides the listener with temporary relief.

Berlin - Pleasure Victim

Originally released by the fledgling Enigma Records in 1982 and picked up by Geffen in early 1983, Pleasure Victim is a great time capsule for fans of early 1980s Synth Pop & New Wave. The album's stand-outs would easily be the essential 80's New Wave singles "The Metro" with its rhythmic structure, "Masquerade" with Terri Nunn's sensual and soaring vocals, and the lascivious novelty single "Sex (I'm A...)”. Much of the attention surrounding Berlin was elicited by their provocative vocalist Terri Nunn, as well as the lyrics for the first single "Sex (I'm A…)", which plays like a modernist update of Donna Summer's "Love To Love You Baby". The other four songs (not to mention the tiresome eight-minute remix of "Sex" on the CD version) are much weaker. Surprisingly though, for a record that was completely unfashionable within months of its initial release, Pleasure Victim actually has more to offer than many might remember.
However, Pleasure Victim is frankly an exploitative slab of synth pop cynicism, so boldly crass in its positioning of lead singer Terri Nunn as a sex kitten, and lyrically obsessed with the seedy side of the Los Angeles demimonde that criticism of such becomes nearly beside the point. Lyrical obsessions aside, Pleasure Victim actually holds up quite well as a piece of early-'80s Synth Pop, with the gimmicky and atmospheric "The Metro," the one song where Nunn's limited vocal abilities are put to their best use.
The exploitation nature of Berlin’s songs keeps this from being essential, but then, Pleasure Victim is very much a product of its time.

Berlin - The Metro 7”

Any fan of new wave should already be familiar with Berlin, the Los Angeles based band led by Terri Nun and John Crawford. If you are unfamiliar with the band, please direct your attention here. While it’s their later ballads and more commercial wave tracks that seem to be remembered, it’s prudent to note that the band’s first few releases were fantastic and rare entries to the US minimal synth scene. Information, the band’s first LP released only in Germany, was the closest thing to Ultravox in the west coast scene, while songs like “The Metro” and “Sex (I’m A)” from 1982’s Pleasure Victim were fast paced, sexually driven synth tracks that still remain classics to date.

Berlin = ベルリン* – Dancing In Berlin = ダンシング・イン・ベルリン

A bit of a mixed bag this time from the beat combo called Berlin. As an obvious post for this lil blog, I present the follow on from T’Girls and Teri Nunn with a Teri Nunn featurette. Released for the Japanese market in 1987 this is a collection of extended versions and re-mixes. There really isn’t much to say this time except that if you find yourself yearning for an old girlfriend, you know, the one who broke your heart when you were in collage/university, then Teri Nunn is a fantastic replacement who you can keep as your screen saver for those special days when you need a lift in your undercarriage. The ultimate siren of the 80’s hanging onto your arm as you walk slowly, so everyone can see you, down to buy some bread n milk from the 7-11 on the corner. Destiny is calling you all to a higher place, male or female and all deviants in-between, Teri is the woman for that special minute in your life, if you can last that long…

The Birthday Party – Junkyard + Bonus 7"

What do you get when you cross drunk junkies, sleazy scumbags, violent jazz, and a vampire? Well, my answer would be The Birthday Party.
Starting off with "Blast off", this record lets you know what you are getting yourself into. Loud, scratchy, off-kilter rhythms that bleed into your skull. One thing you will notice is there are two guitarists and they both love tinny, trebly, and glassy tones. Sometimes it sounds like neither guitarist has heard the same song they are playing before. There are a lot of riffs that sound like rockabilly from hell. Fucked up exercises in noise and dark slinking lines from some Middle Eastern purgatory. Some of the most disgusting and rebellious music is played on Junkyard. "Big Jesus Trash Can" is a perfect example of how to play some violent and mean jazz. With the drummer swinging on the ride and off-key horns swirl around drunken rambling, while hideous riffs fill up the cracks with noise, it's easy to see that the Birthday Party were really just doing their own thing. "The Dim Locator" is another stretch of the imagination of how far and fucked up you can take jazz. The rhythm section isn't necessarily jazz-like in the traditional approach. Many of the bass lines are simple and heavy, with emphasis on establishing the basic structure of the song. The drums follow along nicely with unique fills and many tom-based beats and syncopated hits. The drummer has a signature style on this album where he just SMASHES the crash and snare so hard at times it sounds like a gunshot or a curb stomp or something. Listen to the seemingly random SMASHES on "She's Hit" for a good example. He absolutely crushes the snare hits into absurdity. This aggressive way of playing complements the simple distorted bass very well.
We've already talked briefly about the guitarists and all their brittle annoying glory but this shouldn't be glossed over. Many of the riffs sound structure less and made up the night before the recording. However, the more you listen to this record their brilliance shines through. Creativity is in no short supply with these weirdos. And you got to think about how hard it would be to write guitar in a band like this. That's a testament to this record. The personality and character that each member brings is beautiful. Everyone brings their everything and bares it all.
Now, you can't talk about this band without mentioning the singer. Nick Cave needs no introduction, but it must be stated that this is one of his most memorable and brutal performances in his whole career. He's always written lyrics with imagery and violence and this record is not different. He squawks, shrieks, screams and hollers tales of death and despair. Cave sounds like a man possessed on this record. He ended up getting much more accessible and graceful later in his career but back in the early 80's he was a madman with a huge and very raw vocal range. Cave lends his ultra-unique vocals over an extremely unique band and the result is an unforgettable experience. No one else could sing a song like "Dead Joe" and get away with it. The guy is perfect for music this unsettling, and when the title track begins and you hear Cave's trembling voice cry "I am the king" it's hard not to believe him.

The Birthday Party - Prayers On Fire

The first album by The Birthday Party to this day remains one of the most disturbing pieces of music ever made. Beginning with tribal drumming and chanting, complete with a menacing bass-line on the opener “Zoo-Music Girl” and all the way to the sickeningly distorted “parody” of a blues song “Kathy’s Kisses”, the album works like a ride to a morbid party in Hell, happening in a deranged maniac’s mind. The word “sick” is probably the best adjective to describe any track on this record; this sickness is present on every song, taking over the listener in the process.

It’s an awesome kind of sickness.

After a few spins one starts to see some sort of logic in The Birthday Party’s music. The core of it is the rhythm section, which bears the most obvious traces of blues’ influence. Guitars provide disturbing hysterical coating for the songs, little creepy melodies crawling their way into the structure here and there; and sometimes there’s hardly any melody what’s so ever and guitars just make noise, intensifying the insanity. And then, of course, there are the vocals.

It’s a bit weird to think that the ranting madman behind the mic would go on to sing with Kylie Minogue in 1996. Cave’s vocals on this are blissfully crazy and intense and it’s hard not fall in love with his performance. He shrieks, grunts, yelps and screams, seemingly loosing himself in his own world, delivering delusional nightmarish lyrics that only a mind as twisted as his could come up with. There’s hardly any singing on this album: when Nick hits an actual note it seems like an accident. For this kind of music actual singing would seem inappropriate anyway.

The Birthday Party are closer to Joy Division (only more theatrical), the Pop Group (only spookier), or Pere Ubu (only more percussive). Though present on most of the tracks, the moody piano that would dominate much of Cave's solo work is never really prominent here. Instead it's the squiggles of Rowland Howard's guitar dodging the blows of the furious rhythm section that distinguishes The Birthday Party.

Overall, this album is definitely not for everyone, unless you want to torture other people with it, in which case, there more people hear it the merrier. But if you’re keen of dark, menacing music and the perspective of listening to jazz and blues being sodomized and bludgeoned to death sounds good to you, then surely give “Prayers Of Fire” a try.

The Birthday Party - The John Peel Sessions

Though a couple of Peel Session EPs had snuck out in the late eighties, it wasn't until this long overdue and utterly worthwhile collection surfaced that all the various recordings the Birthday Party had made over the years for John Peel finally saw official release. Combining both familiar numbers and a fair share of rarities or oddities, The John Peel Sessions contains four sessions recorded over the space of two years, conveniently documenting the band's England based career. The obvious debt owed to Iggy Pop and the Stooges gets repaid in full with a scorching take on "Loose", making for a reasonable studio alternate to the equally gone live version on the Drunk on the Pope's Blood EP. Another track that appeared on Drunk got its only released studio take here, "(Sometimes) Pleasure Heads Must Burn", a jazzy jump blues noir not far off from the work of fellow Aussie Foetus; while the same session produced a fierce one-off, "Roland Around in That Stuff." Whether or not the title's a bizarre dig at guitarist Howard, the whole combination of brisk drums, Howard's agreeably crazed work and Cave's practically barked vocals makes for an excitingly ridiculous vamp. Other obscure material includes "Bully Bones," which only appeared on the Live '81-'82 compilation, and "Pleasure Avalanche." Elsewhere, sessions focus on material from the main or upcoming releases of the time; the first four songs are all versions of Prayers on Fire songs, including fantastic versions of "Yard" and "King Ink," the latter of which is pure threat and drama set to music. Other great takes on familiar songs include "She's Hit," Howard's slashing guitar line in the chorus particularly vicious, "Release the Bats" and "Deep In the Woods."

The Birthday Party - Mutiny! EP

The final Party studio release has the band thrashing to its conclusion. Given that the various projects that rose in its wake; Cave's solo career, Harvey and Howard's work with Crime and the City Solution, Howard's own solo efforts; all sound like logical extensions of the Party's sound; artistic dissatisfaction can't explain what brought the Party to an end. Whatever went down, though, the group bowed out with artistic extremism intact, if not always exploding all over the place as in years past. "Jennifers Veil" sounds like a slightly lighter (but only just) cousin to Bad Seed's "Deep in the Woods," Cave singing more than intoning, calling to mind the burned romantic of his later years more than once. "Say a Spell" runs at about the same pace but with more feedback to burn, a good torchy blues with a fine howl or two to recommend it. "Swampland" turns up the energy level all around, a crunchy romp through the low and mean places, sonically and lyrically, the Party made their own. "Mutiny in Heaven" closes it all off with a final, worthy blast of fire. Blixa Bargeld guests from Einsturzende Neubaten, foreshadowing his role as key guitarist for Cave's Bad Seeds, with sudden edits and a roaring central refrain from Cave, when not otherwise detailing a world turned upside down with all the fire of a travelling evangelist.

The Birthday Party - The Bad Seed 12"EP

Reviews for The Birthday Party's The Bad Seed EP (often bundled with Mutiny) highlight its raw, venomous post-punk, showcasing Nick Cave's descent into his darker, theatrical persona, blending violent punk with swampy, bluesy folk elements, seen as a bridge to The Bad Seeds, with tracks like "Sonny's Burning" praised for their savage energy and "Deep in the Woods" for its sinister atmosphere, marking a creative peak before the band's demise.