Pitchfork

Nth verse, same as the first (this time, featuring Jon Savage, circa 1978, as narrator):

"CABARET VOLTAIRE SEEM TO INSPIRE EXTREME REACTIONS: ON THEIR FIRST GIG IN SEPT 1975, MAL GOT PULLED OFF STAGE DURING THEIR 2ND SET - THE GIG WAS TERMINATED AND MAL WENT TO HOSPITAL... IN LONDON AT THE LYCEUM IN MARCH, THEY PLAY BOTTOM BILLED SUPPORT ON THE BUZZCOCKS TOUR - THEIR SET ENDS UNDER A HAIL OF FLYING GLASSES (PLASTIC) AFTER FOUR NUMBERS..."

I really hope the folks tossing plastic at Cabaret Voltaire weren't Buzzcocks fans. While a Buzzcocks song like "Noise Annoys" (in retrospect) merely talked the talk, Cabaret Voltaire's "Nag Nag Nag" actually brought the noise, sounding like a group of technologically poisoned construction workers banging out "Louie Louie" on bulldozers and PVC tubes. Times have changed, of course: after the Warp and Hanson imprints-- and even Add N to (X)'s namby-pamby electroshock therapy-- a passionless voice intoning "Nag, nag, nag" over what amounts to some ambient noise, two notes on a keyboard, and a drum machine isn't much to throw overpriced beer at.

Neither is this collection. These 3 CDs compile sounds created by the CV collective prior to laying down, as Richard Kirk (Guitar/ Synthesizer/Voice) words it in the nearly inscrutable liner notes (printed in silver ink on top of black & white pictures-- striking, design-wise, but it isn't easy on the eyes): "the tracks that first brought us to public attention." According to Kirk, the first 2 discs (featuring work from 1974 through 1976) contain the components that would eventually coalesce into the familiar work featured on the third disc: the aforementioned "Nag Nag Nag", "Baader Meinhof", and "Do the Mussolini (Headkick)". Not surprisingly, these little bits of familiarity are the dullest portion of this entire package; as the title of the box set suggests, the purpose of this collection is to detail the process by which Cabaret Voltaire found their way. In this light, the journey's destination doesn't amount to much.

Over the course of listening to these tracks, it might strike you that Cabaret Voltaire discovered themselves the way many an artist gains their sea legs: by fucking around. Try something different, fall flat on your face, try something else, repeat ad infinitum. In the liner notes, Kirk notes (rightly) that the presence of punk rock makes itself known in these demos through the use of guitar. It's this overt attempt to "rock" in any fashion, the capitulation to pop songwriting, that makes the known tracks dull.

Even their respectfully disrespectful cover of the Velvet Underground's "Here She Comes Now" sounds too obvious, though CV do their best, approximating the rhythm of the original, strumming some chords that might be right, and stabbing the keyboard "96 Tears" style while laying down sepulchral vocals to lend a watered-down Joy Division air. They do manage to get their VU adulation right in some respects, one-upping the spoken-word shtick of "The Gift" and "Murder Mystery" with the ominous narration of "Data Processing Instructions" and "Bedtime Stories".

The best of these tracks eschew punk rock trappings (e.g. the type of guitar-based stuff the Buzzcocks et. al. are known for) in favor of embracing the idyllic punk rock ideology of doing your own damn thing. For the Cabaret Voltaire recording in that attic in the mid-70s, that meant making noises like the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, best known for the Dr. Who theme. "Synthi Aks Piece Two" and "Henderson Reversed Piece Two" certainly recall the haunting moods offered by Brian Eno's ambient material, if not the actual sounds. Elsewhere, excursions into musique concrete collide with formal experiments. The "Treated Guitar" sounds like an overweight bass; the "Treated Clarinet" resembles a harmonica; the "Treated Drum Machine", a metallic cuckoo clock. "Jive" turns out to be a fair approximation of some sort of dubby funk (as essayed by wooden spoon beats and something that sounds like a electric Jew's Harp). And, of course, befitting the punk rock spirit of all this work, "The Single" is doo-wop (accompanied by suitably hokey lyrics and a few synth shocks, just so you know where it's coming from).

Naysayers will gladly pounce on the first track of Disc 3 as the epithet for this collection: "It's Not Music". Of course, even Pizzicato Five fans know that music is organized sound-- it's just a matter of what level of organization you're willing to recognize. The band as represented in Methodology seem to recognize patterns that many of the great unwashed were unwilling, or incapable, of discerning. In many ways, the many moods offered in these demos surpasses the comparatively heavy-handed paranoid rebellious slop they doled out via Rough Trade and other record companies. Perhaps those fans in 1978 were right to throw things at the group when they opened for the Buzzcocks-- after hearing these attic tapes, who the hell would willfully put up with more nagging?