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(Clicka qua per la versione Italiana)
Ohio's Brainiac concocted a surreal hybrid of new wave and industrial music.
Abandoning the punk-rock verve of
their Devo-inspired debut album Smack Bunny Baby (1993),
the short demented songs of Bonsai Superstar (1994),
featuring new guitarist John Schmersal, revealed a lighter, gentler version of
Pere Ubu, the Pixies and Sonic Youth.
Chaotic and retro`, that album capitalized on those masters' innovations
but, thanks to Tim Taylor's naive synthesizer and to a childish aesthetics,
discarded the apocalyptic overtones.
Hissing Prigs In Static Couture (1996) was a better organized
madhouse, despite the relentless, frantic chaos.
Formed in 1992 in Dayton, Brainiac
debuted with the single Super Duper Seven (Limited Potential, 1992).
Smack Bunny Baby (Grass, 1993) exposed a chaotic blend of distinguished
influences. I Fuzzbot recycles the sonic impact of Girls Vs Boys, Devo-grade dementia and Jesus Lizard-ian fractured riffs, and releases a grunge-pop refrain over the mess.
The same balance of catchiness, syncopation and aggression permeates Martian Dance Invasion.
An even harsher combination of psychotic ranting, angular riffs and industrial noises propels the Pere Ubu-ian modern dance of Cultural Zero.
Sonic Youth-ian strident geometries pierce Brat Girl.
On the more melodic front, Nirvana's aching riffs echo inside Hurting Me.
The silly rigmaroles of Ride and I Could Own You rely on power-pop progressions.
Smack Bunny Baby and Anesthetize
best display their ability at manipulating cliches such as Ramones-ian punk-rock and Cramps-ian psychobilly in a frantic, demented way.
The tragic element that underlies even more the most comic moments comes out
fully in Draag, a song anchored to desperate screams, Black Sabbath-ian riffs and sinister tempos.
Tim Taylor's style at the synth recalls the most surreal moments of Pere Ubu's Ravenstine. Guitarist Michelle O'Dean (or Bodine) follows Lee Ranaldo's dissonant manual of harmony.
Bonsai Superstar (Grass, 1994), with John Schmersal replacing
O'Dean (now in O-Matic) and more sophisticated electronic effects,
leaves behind the youthful verve of their debut album and sails towards more
adventurous lands.
The noise-rock aesthetics of the previous album still permeates the fractured anthems Radio Apeshot, You Wrecked My Hair and Sexual Frustration,
not to mention the clownish voodoobilly frenzy of Juicy and To The Baby Counter;
but
the mongoloid litany of Hot Metal Doberman's (reminiscent of Trio's Da-da-da-da,
the Nine Inch Nails-ian psychodrama of Fucking With The Altimiter,
the subdued shuffle of Flypaper,
the grotesque David Thomas-ian dance of Status Choke,
paint eerie soundscapes of extreme psychological devastation;
and prove that the rhythm section of Tyler Trent (drums) and Juan Monasterio (bass) has grown tremendously.
Taylor's synth pens each ditty with a different touch of madness, which
combines superbly with the guitar's rancid lines and the horrid semi-vocals.
(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
After the EP Internationale (Touch & Go), with the hysterical pop of Go Freaks Go, Hissing Prigs In Static Couture (Touch & Go, 1996) amplifies, if possible, the over-the-top absurdity of the first two albums. Pussyfootin' lunges like a ragged version of Should I Stay Or Should I Go sung in a hysterical falsetto, Vincent Come On Down spins an even more psychotic chorus over an increasingly frantic instrumental backing, Bee Keepers Maxim struts in march-like fashion as in a Brechtian drama, Kiss Me You Jacked-Up Jerk is a bawdy and vulgar circle of lunatics deliriously out of control, and Nothing Ever Changes intones an epic slogan with Zappas tragicomic flair. Subnormal vocal registers and hard rock vehemence combine in infernal fashion.
When the tempo slows, subliminal lied-like pieces emerge, such as Fancy Neckwear, with extremely fragmented harmonies and barely whispered melodies, and scenarized songs that are simultaneously sarcastic and dramatic like This Little Piggy. When the sound parameters find a precarious balance and clarity emerges from the pantagruelic disorder of their arrangements, it feels like listening to the Fall (Hot Seat). Yet the tradition is that of Pere Ubu and Devo, updated to a less tragic and more unrestrained mood.
The mini-CD Electro-Shock For President relies even more heavily on synthesizers. The sound is coldly digital, the delivery more psychotic than ever. Their style has become a sustained exercise in atmosphere, certainly closer to the 1970s new wave (and kraut-rock) than to 1990s alternative rock. The "noir" music of Fresh New Eyes draws inspiration from the new wave of twenty years earlier (Pere Ubu in expressionist mode), but all the emphasis is on narrative, as in the psychodramas of Nine Inch Nails. Maniacal suspense also grips the whispered confession of The Turnover, torn by intermittent hissing and violent electric shocks. The harmony disintegrates further in the abstract post-industrial sound-painting of Fashion 500, all bubbles and dissonances and syllables in frantic freedom, like the atoms of a gas. These are pieces where an art of abstract sonic fresco takes shape, still endowed with a structure. The deranged rock of their origins is recognizable only in the frantic Mr Fingers.
Tim Taylor died in a car accident in May 1997, at the age of twenty-eight.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
Tim Taylor died in a car accident in may 1997. He was only 28.
Brainiac guitarist John Schmersal moved to New York, formed John Stuart Mill, and released
Forget Everything (SeeThru Broadcasting, 1999), an album that picks up
right where Brainiac left off.
The sound is mellower and the instrumentation is arcane, the pace is drugged
and the riffs are uncertain, but the result is another dadaistic pastiche
of genre remakes.
Brainiac's guitarist John Schmersal, hidden behind the moniker Enon and assisted by Skeleton Key's Rick Lee and Steve Calhoon, continued the band's epic with
Believo (See Thru Broadcasting, 2000),
a set of catchy tunes flooded with cacophonies (Biofeedback, Elected, For The Sum Of It) and a few rap-ballads a` la Beck (Rubber Car).
Enon's second album, High Society (Touch And Go, 2002), gives up too
much of that repertory of tricks.
Guitarist John Schmersal is now flanked by bassist Toko Yasuda
(Blonde Redhead)
and drummer
Matt Schulz.
The songs are far more regular, leading off with Old Dominion
(featuring a crunchy riff a` la Cream and a John Lennon-ian bridge)
and peaking with the manic punk-pop of Pleasure And Priviledge.
The combination of Schmersal's hard-rock guitar riffs and cheesy
vintage keyboards is occasionally intriguing (Carbonation)
and experimental (the industrial dance of Salty)
The Japanese singer increases the similarities with
Blonde Redhead (In This City, their signature song)
and with the Japanese retro-pop contingent
of Cibo Matto, and
Pizzicato Five
(Disposable Parts, Shoulder).
Half-hearted stabs at pop stereotypes
(Natural Disasters, Sold, High Society) do not help.
In the end one is left with the impression of yet another alternative
band chasing mass-market success.
Whether they also have talent and ideas rests to be seen.
Enon's third album Hocus Pocus (Touch & Go, 2003) tips its hat to
trip-hop (Shave, sung by Yasuda), epic soul (the Hendrix-ian Storm the Gates),
hard-rock (Utz),
power-pop (The Power of Yawning), pop balladry (Candy), and even
Japanese folk music (Mikazuki),
while maintaining the intellectual stance of the new wave.
What a stylistic mess.
Stance aside, the more original songs are merry-go-rounds of arrangements that enhance
the singer's narrative skills: Daughter in the House of Fools
(sung by Yasuda), that relies on lo-fi sonic events, or
Starcastic, a skewed song in the tradition of Pixies and Breeders with a cute interplay of the two singers.
Lost Marbles And Exploded Evidence (Touch & Go, 2005) collects
rarities and singles, including pre-Yasuda material such as
Fly South (1998), Marbles Explode, Party Favor.
Enon's poppy
Grass Geysers Carbon Clouds (Touch And Go, 2007), probably under
the influence of the success of
Blonde Redhead,
marked a sharp departure from their original aesthetic.
The radio-friendly songs
(Mirror on You, Mr Ratatatat, Pigeneration)
are easily forgotten, and
the "experimental" songs of the second half would not have made it to
Enon's classic albums.
Toko Yasuda's vibrant, dancing bass is perhaps the most interesting element to
come out of this album.
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