June 4, 1998
Don't let the cover scare you - this isn't some dumbed-down death metal record. Released during the punk explosion of 1977, this New York band's debut was even more rebellious than straight punk in that there is nary a guitar to be heard. What Suicide has in common with punk is attitude.
Suicide is a duo; singer Alan Vega vamps in a curiously monotone moan punctuated with echoed yelps while Martin Rev controls the synthesized grooves behind. Legendarily confrontational in their live shows (documented on bootleg records are their audiences screaming at them), this anti-guitar music sounds almost tame today. And while Rev's homemade, lo-fi synthesized rhythms and simplistic melodies may have fallen out of favor in the high-gloss 80's, Suicide's jarring vocal delivery and crude synths (especially on the post-Vietnam anthem "Frankie Teardrop") found new fans in the 90's.
Industrial dance bands like Ministry and Revolting Cocks reworked Suicide's lyrical themes of urban despair and alienation, while the flat monochromatic grooves and itchy beat pulses have strongly influenced analog/digital fusion bands like Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire and Stereolab, the most direct inheritor of Suicide's sound.
Beyond the psychotic shrieks of "Frankie Teardrop", the rest of the album is not only mellow but soothing in an odd, detached way, like the soft hum of high tension-wires. There's even a love song with pretty celeste tones in "Cherree" as well as the strangely seductive sheen of "Ghost Rider" and the clean organ drone of "Rocket U.S.A.". Performance art is rarely this palatable. Though early electronic experimenters Silver Apples have gotten more press lately for their influence on modern techno, their melodies and vocals are too 60's-sachharine for my taste. For groundbreaking electronic oscillations, Suicide deserves a closer look.
- Jared O'Connor
Electronic Punk