Pigface- Fook

PIGFACE –FOOK

So, I am sitting in this little diner in Maplewood eating a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon and tomato, and wondering what I am going to write about this week. This sandwich isn’t so bad. The bread is white, the cheese is yellow, the tomato is pink, and the bacon is blood red. To think, last year I was a vegetarian and now I am about to eat this pork byproduct. The lust for meat is so attractive, I feel guilty as I tear into it. I shamefully bite into the sandwich again, incorporating the animal’s essence into my own.

Memories flood my mind of my youth in Puerto Rico. It is our custom during the Christmas season to slay a pig, drain its blood, and roast it on a spit over an open fire. I found the whole ritual to be a bit barbaric, so I usually shied away from my family during the celebration. The first few years, they didn’t seem to notice. But as time wore on, I knew that it was inevitable that I would be asked to participate.

One Christmas, my father approached me while I was in the backyard catching lagartijas. Lagartijas are little green lizards that are common to the island. They are fast little devils and therefore a challenge to catch. Once I catch them, I release them unharmed. To kill one, it is said, would bring fourteen years of bad luck, and perhaps even one’s own death.

My father informed me that my family had decided that it was time I joined the festivities. I was to slay the pig this year, as some sort of rite of passage. Why was I required to kill a pig to be a man? There was no arguing, though. It was settled and my fate, along with the pigs’, was sealed. When my father walked away, I no longer had an urge to catch any lagartijas.

Christmas came too soon and my family gathered around as I stood before the beast. My brothers and cousins held the animal down as a large knife was placed into my trembling hands. The pig was thrashing about, trying to change its inescapable fate. My father pointed out the porker’s jugular vein and instructed me to thrust the blade into it. Both the pig’s eyes and mine were wide with terror as I plunged the knife deep into the soft flesh of its neck. The pig began to scream a high-pitched squeal as its blood sprayed all over my young hands.

I backed away as the women rushed in to collect the hot blood in a large bowl. This blood would later be combined with rice and shoved into the beast’s intestines to make sausages. The pig trashed and squealed for an eternity as everyone cheered me and patted my back. “You are a man now, David,” they chanted. But I was no more a man than that lifeless animal was.

I am thrust back into reality by the arrival of some school kids on their lunch break. I watch as they roughhouse and carry on, basking in the carefree nature of their youth. They order their meaty lunches and I wonder if any one of them knows the bloody sacrifices that it takes to satisfy their hunger. A particularly rotund boy emits a loud squeal of delight and I immediately get an idea for this week’s review: Pigface.

Pigface is an industrial super group made up of members from other well-known bands. It’s sort of like Ringo Starr’s All-Star Band, but with talent. The members of Pigface include Ogre (Skinny Puppy), En Esch (KMFDM), Martin Atkins (Killing Joke), William Tucker (My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult), Chris Connelly (Ministry), Mary Biker (Gaye Bikers on Acid), Hope Nichols (Fetchin’ Bones), Matt Schultz (Lab Report) and Flour (Rifle Sport). It is virtually a who’s who of aggressive music.

Fook is Pigface’s third album (the previous two being Gub and Welcome to Mexico…Asshole) and their best so far. It is an amazing aural collage of individual musical styles from the collective talents of each of its members. It is because of this that the disc doesn’t have an overall sound or theme; instead each song has its own individual flavor that makes it stand apart from the rest. This album has been described as a “singles” record, sort of like an eccentric version of side one of Abbey Road (Oh, No! Two Ringo Starr references!). It is an odd, and at times inaccessible recording, but very fulfilling and satisfying. Sort of like eating frog legs for the first time: They look nasty, but taste good!

Fook has two standout tracks. By standout I mean songs that rise above anything else you have ever heard. These are songs that reach out and grab you by the boo-boo and don’t let go. Songs that get imprinted on your psyche and you hum for the rest of the day.

The first one is “Insemination” which has lead vocals by my favorite guy, Ogre. It has an infectious groove and is darkly danceable. This percussion heavy song makes you dance, while its twisted vocals scare the pants off of you. This song sounds like it could have been done by Ogre’s own band Skinny Puppy. But Martin Atkins’ deft drumming adds the proper amount of accessibility to fling this song unto the dance floor. It is brilliant!

The masterpiece of the album, however, is “Ten Ground And Down.” This song is a duet between Chris Connelly and Mary Byker, and can only be described as a gothic love ballad with a twist. The song is a meditation on the obsessive side of human consciousness. It is a beautiful song about ugly people with ugly feelings.

Its horrendous cover illustrates the ugliness of the song and the album itself. The cover features artwork by Fred Blue. It depicts a cross between a deformed child and a pork sausage. It is nasty, but as beautiful as the music contained therein.

Well, my grilled cheese is gone, and so is my time. I get up, leave a hefty tip and pass the growing number of school kids. As I walk past one kid in particular, I hear him place his order at the front counter: “Yeah, let me get a grilled cheese with lots of bacon.”

Holy Smoke- Peter Murphy

Holy Smoke

Peter Murphy

The thin pixie, slim and forlorn, the count, pale and drawn is returned unto us. The loveably pretentious Peter Murphy is back with his new release Holy Smoke. Following the phenomenal success of his last effort Deep, which spawned the hit single “Cuts You Up,” Peter Murphy took a hiatus of almost two years to write and record this, his most introspective album to date.

In Holy Smoke we encounter a mellower, more philosophical Murphy. Unlike the dark and twisted persona he cultivated in his former group Bauhaus, Murphy comes across as a deeply emotional and rather conventional singer on this album. Lyrically, Holy Smoke is very personal, even confessional. Whereas Bauhaus’ music was theatrical and detached, Holy Smoke takes us inside Peter Murphy’s heart and soul, showing us the extent of the singer’s emotions. In his past three solo albums (Should The World Fail To Fall Apart, Love Hysteria and Deep) Murphy has avoided disclosing too much of himself in his songs, but for this album he puts his guard down and lets us get to know him in a way that personal friends get to know each other.

Musically, this recording is not as diverse as any of his past three recordings. In other words, if each of these songs were heard independently you would be able to tell they belong on the same album. This is a musical direction he first explored in Deep, but even that had a couple of surprises to break up the sound of the album. Don’t get me wrong; this is by no means a boring recording. The songs are diverse enough to make them interesting, but alike enough to keep a feeling of consistency throughout the album.

Most of the songs on the disc are rather good, with only one or two mediocre tracks. Among the best tracks are: “Kill The Hate,” which has a great bass line and a good organ solo; “You’re So Close” with its catchy chorus; and the hopefully named “Hit Song.” Among the mediocre ones are “Low Room” and “Let Me Love You.” These boring songs don’t cover any new ground, nor are they interesting enough to play more than once; Although, I do have a feeling that “Low Room” may find some degree of popularity among the Goths. But these songs by no means compromise the quality of the disc.

The cover art of this release shows Peter Murphy in all of his scruffy beauty, with one eye closed and looking like he woke up on the wrong side of a hangover. It takes a lot of guts for someone so image conscious to allow him to be shown in such an unflattering light. But the cover reflects the “warts and all” emotional openness of the music within. Besides, Mr. Murphy is arrogant enough to pull it off. I love it!

Over the years, Peter Murphy has achieved such a huge, devoted following that will guarantee him success in any undertaking. To many people, Peter Murphy is more than just a singer. To many of us, he embodies and attitude- and ideal. To others, he is an over the top poseur. He’s is one of those artists that you either love or hate. If, like me, you love Mr. Murphy, then this album is essential. But, if you are not really into him, this album will do nothing to change your mind. Although, I bet you may admit begrudgingly that “Hit Song” does sound kind of sweet.

Anyway, I would like to say congratulations to all the graduates that are getting out of here in May. I was supposed to be one of you; instead I am stuck here for one more year. Congrats in particular to Joe Kern and Illyana (whose last name I can’t recall) on graduating. Good luck in the fantasy world of earning a living.

Oh, yeah! A couple of albums to check out this summer:

Ministry – Ministry (Due out in June)

The Young Gods – TV Sky (Out now)

The Jesus & Mary Chain – Honey’s Dead (Out now)

Morrissey - The Man Who Bored The World (Due out soon)

Dead Milkmen – Soul Rotation (Out now)

I’ll be around over the summer, so I may review some of these. Stay tuned to FACTORY.

Morrissey- Your Arsenal

Morrissey- Your Arsenal

It’s a good album. That’s about it. Or, should I elaborate? OK. If I must…

First off, I must say that I love the album cover. It is the most sexual cover in Morrissey’s career. He looks immaculate, and yes, hot as hell! I’ve always theorized that there are two Morrisseys. One who is very photogenic and sexy, and one whose worst enemy is the camera and who constantly looks dorky. Some record covers show him as gorgeous while others show him as extremely homely. I’m glad to report that the cover of his latest release, Your Arsenal, showcases the former. The apparent sexual overtone of the photo is so overt, that I cannot imagine it being accidental. The position of that huge microphone is definitely not a coincidence.

Next, let’s discuss the song titles. As usual, the titles of his songs are highly unusual. This is a signature move that dates back to his days as front man for The Smiths. The titles of his songs have a way of being humorously moronic and pretentiously charming. Past titles like “King Leer,” “November Spawned A Monster,” and “Hairdresser On Fire” are equaled on this effort with titles like “You’re The One For Me Fatty,” “Glamorous Glue,” and “We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful.” As you can tell, the usual marathon length of the titles has not changed either.

What has changed is the man himself. Morrissey has finally realized what I knew all along: he is much better in a group setting. In a group, like when he was with The Smiths, Morrissey’s depressing and pretentious lyrical themes were perfectly complemented by Johnny Marr’s cheerful rock n roll music. When Morrissey is left on his own for too long, we get stuff like the near-horrible Kill Uncle. I thought Kill Uncle was boring and filled with dirge-like songs, heavy on synthesizers and drum machines, that did nothing to balance out his melodramatic conceits.

Now, using the perfect band he used on the Kill Uncle tour, Morrissey once again sounds refreshing and spontaneous. The upbeat, guitar oriented music on Your Arsenal serves as a perfect juxtaposition to his tragic persona. This blend of happiness and sadness, with a dash of irreverence, is the formula that wove the magic of The Smiths’ success.

Your Arsenal is a chock full of entertaining and accessible, yet by no means ordinary, pop songs. The musical styles range from the hard guitar driven “You’re Going To Need Someone On Your Side” to the catchy hook of “National Front Disco” to the slow drone of “Seasick, Yet Still Docked.” The music on the album is exciting and at times even sounds like it has the influences of Garage or Rockabilly music. I believe this is because there is less studio production involved and more “jamming” between the fine musicians he has under his employ.

Morrissey’s voice even sounds stronger and more confident than in his previous outings. His whine has receded a bit from the highly annoying to the mildly tragic. This makes the lyrics on Your Arsenal poignant enough without sounding trite. And trust me, with song titles like these it is hard for the lyrics not to sound silly. But Morrissey deftly pulls it off.

Overall, it is a really good compilation of new Morrissey material. I guess it is named Your Arsenal because Morrissey expected it to be used as cannon fodder against him by his critics. I don’t know what anyone else is planning to throw at him, but as for this critic, Your Arsenal stands as one of Morrissey’s best efforts and is music of the purest kind. Go Moz!