The Stranglers – The Gospel According to the Meninblack

When The Stranglers released their magnificent fourth album The Raven in 1979, they were praised for writing songs about more esoteric matters. Two of these matters were religion and extra-terrestrial life, as well as the introduction of the mysterious governmental (or possibly alien) men in black. The band’s obsessive follow-up in 1981, The Gospel According to the Meninblack, was a concept album based entirely on these matters but unfortunately alienated (no pun intended) many fans and critics for its unusual theme and experimental nature, leading to it being widely regarded as a dud album. Fortunately, the beauty of hindsight means we can identify how wrong these fans and critics were.
To start with, the darker songs are offset by an element of fun that was rarely displayed on The Raven, from the wonderfully weird extra-terrestrial waltz of opener ‘Waltzinblack’ to the first single ‘Just Like Nothing On Earth’, with Hugh Cornwell rapping stream-of-consciousness lyrics in its verses. Dave Greenfield’s use of futuristic synths rather than psychedelic keyboards also enabled the band to create progressive and darkly hypnotic pieces like ‘Turn the Centuries Turn’ and ‘Hallow To Our Men’ just as easily as the poppy and upbeat new-wavers like ‘Two Sunspots’ and ‘Thrown Away’.
The batty and light-hearted lyrics of ‘Just Like Nothing On Earth’ are also a common theme (especially considering that many of the darker pieces are instrumentals). For example, how many bands could write a song about aliens like ‘Waiting for the Meninblack’ and include a line like “I’m clutching my teddy-bear, if I don’t I might die of fright”? And how many of those could address the second coming of Jesus Christ (‘Second Coming’) by hypothesising that “he may be ugly and have problem hair, even speak funny and make all the people stare”? Such joyful blasphemy could only come from punk’s great provocateurs.
Perhaps the serious but acclaimed subject matter of The Raven is why fans and critics disliked Meninblack, but in doing so they failed to spot a clever trick employed by The Stranglers. By making a concept album as knowingly silly and pretentious as this one, it comes full circle and turns into possibly the wittiest and most fun album they’d made to date, as well as being right up there among the best. Just make sure you put on your tinfoil hat before you play it – the Meninblack might also be listening…

The Stranglers - The Raven

By the time The Raven was released, the Stranglers had branched out a bit from their punk-influenced pop music stylings and grouchy personal-relationship-based lyrics. Half the songs on this album (among them "Dead Loss Angeles," "Nuclear Device," "Shah Shah a Gogo," and "Genetix") spout verses critical of social or political issues. Only the first of these four numbers, with its clipped vocal delivery and stripped-down, bass-heavy arrangement, shows significant British punk influence. Certain songs here exhibit strong mainstream tendencies with no hardcore sensibilities whatsoever, such as "Duchess" (a tuneful power pop number with clear chart-oriented influences) and "Don't Bring Harry" (a slow-tempo, piano-dominated selection). Still other influences can be heard in "Meninblack," a Devo-derived number featuring a synthesized clipped beat/electronic pulse texture, chilly and sanitized-sounding organ, lockstep drums, and Alvin & the Chipmunks-style sped-up vocals. The intriguing "Ice" boasts interesting production touches and an inventively dubious tonal focus. The songs are lengthy, with at times prolix instrumental openings and interludes. This is a generally good album worth hearing.

Euroman Cometh

A lovely little re-up request from Carlo...

Imagine, you're the bass player in one of the happening punk bands of 1978, and on the strength of that success, you persuade the record company to let you make an electronic solo concept album, with the theme of a politically united Europe. Sound feasible? Well, I guess it helped that he was British born of French parents, homeless, living in the studio during the Black And White recording sessions and in The Stranglers, but even so...Predictably, it fell through the cracks into obscurity.

 A favourite album of mine is one that you may not have heard of, Stranglers bassist J.J. Burnel’s 1979 solo project ‘Euroman Cometh’. I originally bought it way back when because I was a big fan of the band and wanted to own everything that J.J.  and the other band members put out. At the time I remember being somewhat non-plussed by this album. It was, of course, bass heavy but also political in a way that I couldn’t follow and other worldly; and as a teenager at the time I just didn’t appreciate it. In the intervening years, however, I have come to appreciate that album more and more for its genre defying avant-garde approach even though I can’t agree with the political; it was an album out of time…and has remained somewhat ignored and obscure. Musically, it was an attempt at incorporating electronic sounds into rock. Lyrically, it evolved around the idea of United States of Europe, in the Cold war context. "A Europe riddled with American values and soviet subversion is a diseased sycophantic old whore: a Europe strong, united and independent is a child of the future." stated J.J. Burnel in the inner sleeve. Opening with a list of people he's descended from (Charlemagne, Napoleon, Adolf Hitler (?!?)) voiced over a synthetic drone, it goes on to paint a future vision of a European nation state that stands independently from the U.S. and Russia.

It was merely a dream at the time, but drenched in intuitive foresight, and leaving aside the Nostradamus element (from a guy who was probably smarting at the U.K's patronising myopic view of his homeland), it actually sounds like the future too. Printed on the sleeve is a tribute to the Meriden Motorcycle Co-operative that manufactured Triumph motorcycles from 1976-83. The tribute reads, "The Triumph Workers Co-operative at Meriden have proved that personally motivated enterprise coupled with group interest is a necessary ingredient in successful socialism and the sham they call national socialism could only be suggested and perpetrated by enemies of the people." Burnel's 750cc Triumph Bonneville T140, manufactured by the Meriden Co-operative, revs its engine during the track "Triumph (Of the Good City)". Dirty synths and even dirtier basslines (naturally), rumble and twitch, pummelling a trough of post-punk electro-clash almost 40 years too soon.
Yeah, 1979 was a hell of a year...

Hugh Cornwell & Robert Williams – Nosferatu

Pairing with then-Magic Band drummer Robert Williams, ex-Strangler Hugh Cornwell's first solo effort not unexpectedly sounds like a self-consciously bizarre cross of The Stranglers and Captain Beefheart. Though Cornwell wrote and sang the songs, Nosferatu is as much Williams' showcase as Cornwell's - Williams' rhythmic clattering’s help give the album a quirky sonic flavouring, making the material pretty accessible. Even so, this is dark, challenging, and inaccessible music by almost any other standard. Nosferatu was originally the name of a classic silent vampire film, hence the album's title and artwork. Combining gothic atmospherics and tune craft with the angular discordance of Beefheart is an ambitious move, so whilst this album can be an interesting listen, it's not always enjoyable. Such challenging music too often demands more from the listener than even repeat listens eventually deliver. The problem is not so much the sound, which is after all what's intriguing here, but the songs, which seem too self-consciously quirky and offbeat (in both the weird and rhythmic sense) to fully work. On first listen, the only track that stands out is a fair cover of Cream's "White Room", but that's only because it's the one song on the album that's even remotely commercial and likely included to ensure at least some airplay and sales. Not that there aren't poppy moments - the closing "Puppets" is pure electro/pop, and "Wrong Way Round" is nice'n'sleazy Stranglified pub/rock anchored in choppily angular Beefheartian guitar squiggles. But even the poppier numbers have too many discordant edges to go down smoothly - every time there's something resembling a danceable beat, Williams deliberately throws the rhythm off-kilter, and every time Cornwell delivers a smart hook, it gets too smart for itself and twists in a contrary direction.

The Stranglers – Dark Matters

The Stranglers first release for a decade, the aptly titled Dark Matters, is a masterpiece to get lost in and a tribute to their late and great keyboard wizard Dave Greenfield. The album sees the band embrace all the nooks and crannies and styles of their fascinating journey in a late career flourish – a genuine highlight that ranks with those classic and game changing first 5 albums.  

The Stranglers - Black And White

After two albums – the great Rattus Norvegicus and its weaker sister, No More Heroes – and some extraordinary singles, The Stranglers were one of the most successful punk-era bands, hitting the top 10 regularly and being controversial (even for 1977) with their sexist lyrics and macho attitude. In 1978 they were in danger of becoming a loutish version of The Doors, whose keyboard riffs they seemed overly fond of. But, with a verve that would mark most of the records they released, The Stranglers turned everything round on their third album, the extraordinary Black and White. With an aptly stark cover and a division into "black" and "white" sides, Black and White was immediately notable for its tougher sound and attitude, and a merciful lack of songs about how awful women were. Instead, bassist Jean-Jacques Burnel offered takes on the homoerotic machismo of Yukio Mishima (Death and Night and Blood) while lead vocalist Hugh Cornwell mused on tanks (Tank), robots (Rise of the Robots) and, er, Sweden (Sweden). Along the way, songs like Threatened, In the Shadows and Curfew layered on the menace big time, all helped by Martin Rushent’s best production for the band yet. Beefy yet minimal, it displayed clear influences on the work of Gang of Four and Joy Division. In the mix you can hear bits of electronics and keyboards (and creepy, sped-up voices) that would culminate in the full-on synthesized alien paranoia of their Meninblack era. After Black and White, The Stranglers would leave their punk and their pub-rock roots behind forever, embracing the keyboard-led pop of the 1980s with aplomb (but not before recording their iciest album, the confidently fantastic The Raven). Those looking to buy or download Black and White are advised to follow their ears to the singles and EPs surrounding the album’s release. No other band would accompany their most stringent release so far with a crushingly great version of Bacharach and David’s Walk On By and a ludicrous punk boogie called Mean to Me. Essential.

Rattus Norvegicus

Rattus Norvegicus, (the Latin name for the rats responsible for the plague) is an outstanding album. It has aged well and the dexterity of all four band members is clear throughout. It comes in the form of Hugh Cornwell’s psychedelic guitar licks, JJ Burnel’s fantastically deep and pumping bass lines and Dave Greenfield’s swirling keyboard. The bands song writing ability also puts them above the verse-chorus-verse-chorus ilk of their peers. Like many other punk bands of the time the Stranglers were also great at reflecting angst. Whether it’s in ‘London Lady’ which emulates the falseness and superficial attitude of music journalists; ‘Sometimes’ and ‘Ugly’, relationship problems and sexual self-consciousness or ‘Hanging Around’ a sideways look at adolescent hoods in big cities.

The Stranglers, like the Vibrators, were an older band which managed to gain visibility and success through association with Britain's punk movement. Musically, the group is much more polished than some of their rawer brethren such as the Adverts and Siouxsie and the Banshees. The Stranglers' early work is most properly described as stripped-down pop played with a hardcore sensibility; with fairly lengthy songs involving frequent solo breaks, prominent keyboard usage, and occasional employment of vocal harmony set them apart from their peers.

While not the equal of their best album, No More Heroes, this album is perhaps one of The Stranglers greatest in that it reflects their malevolent attitude towards life. The songs are much rawer than their later polished and poppier material. It cleverly fits in the punk ethos of doing things for yourself and showing no concern of what others thought. How many other punk acts would have been brave enough to have a keyboard or experiment with different song structures? In a time that was made of two minute long, amphetamine fuelled numbers The Stranglers clearly stood above the rest with attitude, nous and a fantastic aptitude for musicianship.

No More Heroes

Rattus Norvegicus, the Stranglers' first album (the first of two in 1977), was hardly a punk rock classic, but it outsold every other punk album and remains a pretty good chunk of art-punk. On the other hand, No More Heroes, recorded three months later and released in September 1977, is faster, nastier, and better. At this point the Stranglers were on top of their game, and the ferocity and anger that suffuses this record would never be repeated. Hugh Cornwell's testosterone level is very high, but it's still an enjoyable bit of noise that holds up better than anyone would have guessed at the time.

What is most striking about early Stranglers music in contrast to most of their punk peers is the prevalence of Dave Greenfield's organ sounds. His rapid arpeggios and swelling rhythms, along with JJ's jagged bass lines, formed the core of The Stranglers distinctive sound during most of their punk phase. Album opener 'I Feel like a Wog' shows this to full effect with Greenfield's pumping organ riffs driving the song along in an urgent fashion forming a suitable backdrop for Cornwell's guttural vocals.

The Stranglers were often treated with an element of suspicion by the rabidly traditional Brit punk set of the times due in some part to their middle-class roots but also for their willingness to venture outside traditional musical structures from the outset. They could almost be described as an art rock band with punk attitude, especially when you listen to tracks such as the seven minute 'School Mam' with its busy bass lines and choppy mutating guitar licks. The band would justify the 'mistrust' placed in them by branching out into new wave, Europop and even flirting with progressive rock on later releases. But their willingness to adapt and explore certainly held them in good stead in the post-punk world and they went on to further successes during the '80s, at least within the confines of Europe. On this release, however, their toes were still firmly planted in the punk bedrock.