Internal Wrangler (2000)
8.5
Voodoo Wop / The Return of Evil Bill / Internal Wrangler / DJ Shangri-La
/ The Second Line / C.Q. / T.K. / Earth Angel / Distortions / Hippy
Death Suite / 2nd Foot Stomp / 2/4 / Goodnight Georgie
When
hearing the brief instrumental "Voodoo Wop" for the first time, I expected
the album to be some marriage of analogue and digital, a sort of space-funk
album for those worshipping the filthy sounds of melodicas and bongos. But
no, Internal Wrangler is more than that, much more than that.
It's an explosion of creativity that sounds laughably uncool and undeniably
cool at the same time, owes a few favours to the most diverse bands imaginable
and might be one of the best British debuts of "recent" years. There are those
who feast on the rotting corpse of '60's, '70's and '80's music by stealing
& applying, but not adding anything. But then there are bands that know damn
well what they should do, are aware of the roots, but move forward
at the same time. Clinic, four British lads who like hide their faces with
balaclavas, are the kind of band that still manage to create their own dialect
in a language that's had a lot of variants, many of which certainly weren't
an improvement. Internal Wrangler not only reminded me of the Velvet
Underground and The Fall - respectively the mother and aunt of all indie bands
I guess - but jagged post-punk, Barry Adamson's cinematic albums, surf music,
kitschy lounge, voodoobilly, but also modern electronica and Sigur
Ros' ethereal lullabies. While "Voodoo Wop" with its buzzing flies, melodica
and peculiar percussion sets a weird tone, "The Return of Evil Bill" is already
something entirely different: a cheap melodica (again) melody set to ragged
spy series-guitars, a nerdy vocalist who sounds like a half-brother of Placebo's
Brian Molko and nephew of a young Lou Reed. The weird combinations (that usually
work) continue throughout the remainder of the album: the intro to the title
track is Morricone-meets-Stereolab, short instrumental #2 "DJ Shangri-La"
is the drugged, mental ward-variation on DJ Shadow's "Midnight in a Perfect
World" and "The Second Line" a minimalist, pulsating drone with Casio beats
that has more in common with post-rockers UI than with their fashionable brethren
from good old Britain. Amidst all the dressed-up kitsch, there's also time
(but not much, as the album clocks in at half an hour) to rock out, like in
the thrashy garage punk of "C.Q." (The Violent Femmes doing The Gun Club?)
and the fantastic 80 seconds of surf-punk "Hippy Death Suite." Halfway the
album loses some of its momentum when a rather annoying melody is set to trip-hop-styled
beats ("T.K.") and is followed by an uneventful "Earth Angel," but it picks
up again with the marvellous organ drone of "Distortions," which situates
itself somewhere in between VU and Mercury Rev, with a muted beat coming straight
from Massive Attack's debut album. However, it's the peculiar way in which
the vocals are delivered ("Your sister cannot bait me") that steals the show.
"2nd Foot Stomp," with its sparse tribal percussion, buzzing feedback and
droning organ becomes a hypnotic chant on a par with some of the VU's work
with Nico, but the true gem is waiting at the very end of the album, as "Goodnight
Georgie" is the half-spooky, almost-waltzing song that's nearly too fluffy
to be a song. Until that creepy melody and those accompanying piano notes
get stuck in your head, that is. The whole summation only suggests that Internal
Wrangler is an album that practically defies classification, that pays
tribute while creating a universe of its own in the meantime, becomes memorable
despite the fragmented nature of so many songs and even soothing in spite
of many nauseating sound effects. With Internal Wrangler, Clinic indeed
raised the bar pretty high. Bless them for being that ambitious!
Walking with Thee (2001)
7
Harmony / The Equaliser / Welcome / Walking with Thee / Pet Eunuch
/ Mr. Moonlight / Come Into Our Room / The Vulture / The Bridge / Sunlight
Bathes Our Home / For the Wars
During
one of his more lucid moments, Andy Warhol compared life to "a series of images
that change as they repeat themselves," and basically the same could be repeated
and said about Clinic's approach on Walking with Thee. On Internal
Wrangler, the band displayed an entirely unique style that came off as
a huge explosion of creativity, stylistic gluttony and occasionally, near
genius. When I played Walking with Thee for the first time, I was expecting
nothing but a masterpiece that would contain everything that made the debut
so intriguing, yet without the (almost negligible) flaws: a mere 11 songs
that would keep it consistent, 11 songs that would be more fleshed out - at
least that's what the song lengths suggested. Indeed, Walking with Thee
does sound like the product of a tighter, more disciplined band, but somehow
it also feels a little substantial, as if the band used exactly the same recipe,
but forgot to add the finishing touch, the last secret ingredient. I can't
really put my finger on it, but it's as if the spontaneous energy that made
you go "Wow - where the hell did that come from?" is absent from this
album. It is more efficient, in a way, but the little quirks (a few ideas
that weren't fully realized, a scruffy sound, the all-over-the-place diversity)
that would set it apart are lacking, making the album a bit "ordinary." But
hey, only when compared to Internal Wrangler - and don't forget I usually
prefer the less-than-perfect option whenever I have the chance. That said,
it's completely understandable why so many people are fans of this album (including
the universally worshipped Radiohead, who asked Clinic out for a date as support
act), as they still sound unlike anyone else (well, the same influences are
still there, with perhaps - because of the more professional approach - a
closer resemblance to Radiohead) and offer several excellent songs. The tracks
that bookend the album are immediately good examples, as they both explore
Clinic's quieter spectrum with style and imagination: "Harmony" kicks off
with a slightly spooky piano line and next develops into a muffled hypno-drone,
propelled by incessantly tapped cymbals and 'do you get the irony?'-lyrics
like "I believe in harmony, I believe in Christmas Eve, free for all the happiness
and no one's living on their wits" sung in a voice that is deader than pan.
"For the Wars" is this album's "Goodnight Georgie," a pretty & dreamy album
closer; here a gentle waltz with a delicate melody. Equally successful is
the instantly catchy title track, a tough drone with an organ melody that's
almost too stupid to believe and falsetto vocals in the chorus, but in some
inexplicable way, it does succeed as an exercise in awkwardness. If
you like "Harmony," it's also very likely that you'll dig the spacey "Come
Into Our Room," the minimal groove of "The Bridge" (one that reminds me of
UI's "Johnny" - it must be the percussion) and the futuristic jazz-rock (?)
of "The Vulture," even if its lyrics are very limited/repetitive. That's
also the case with the album as a whole. The "hey, they actually do this/that!"
is replaced by "hey, they're doing that again," and by the time you
reach "Sunlight Bathes Our Home," you'll have had enough of those neo-disco
rhythms. Still, the album's definitely an enjoyable one - apart from a slump
in the middle (songs like "Pet Eunuch" and "Mr. Moonlight" were done more
convincingly on Internal Wrangler) - that perhaps offers a better,
easier likeable introduction to the band than the debut. It's kinda regrettable
it doesn't cause the same sense of wonder as the previous album's best parts,
though. But now I'm really starting to repeat myself.