Monday 1 February 2010

Review: Voices & Images.

Released on March of 1988, Camouflage's debut album Voices & Images starts off with a sound that I - and, indeed, quite a few people, for that matter - find quite endearing and nostalgic. The sizzling crackle and pop of a needle being dropped on a spinning slab of vinyl that opens their jaw-droppingly beautiful single "That Smiling Face" just brings back so many pleasant memories of bringing a new LP into your home, peeling off the plastic film, pulling the paper sleeve from its glossy cardboard envelope, and smelling that odd and somewhat magical chemical whiff that emanated from the disk as you carefully placed it on the deck and gently - ever, so gently - placed the needle on the 33 1/3 RPM record and listened to the album in its proper order (there certainly was no "shuffle" mischief back in those days). I'm certain I'm not the only one who remembers this introductory sound, and how, like Pavlov's dogs in 19th Century Russia, nearly salivated in anticipation of the aural ride I was about to be taken on.

I was a sophomore in high school when I first listened to Voices & Images. I'd bought the album from Wherehouse Records on Los Gatos Boulevard, hustled it home, put it on my bitchin' stereo in my room, sat back on my hand-me-down leather recliner, and let the magic flow over me, eyes closed, head swaying, and just totally getting it. I think Camouflage recognized that feeling, and so actually made a recording of it! How cool is that?

But I digress.

Formed in 1984, a full four years before their debut would see the light of day, Camouflage consisted of a trio of schoolmates in Bietigheim-Bissingden, Germany: Heiko Maile, Marcus Meyn, and Oliver Kreyssig. They'd done their time playing in small local clubs, passing out demo tapes, and honing their talents. Finally signed to a label on the strength of what would become their best-known hit, "The Great Commandment," they solidified their synthesizer sound and put out a pretty fucking solid record, Voices & Images. I will do my damnedest to not be distracted by the sheer awesomeness that constitutes the needle-on-record sample that introduces the opening track, "That Smiling Face."

"That Smiling Face." Wow. Words cannot describe how lush and gorgeous this track really is. But that's not going to stop me from trying, oh hell no. Swirling back and forth and right to left, the synths gently poke and prod from behind a blanket of humming effects and a deep, bass-y keyboard as the song opens, as the blanket spreads warmly, launching into an effective drum line that gives it a soul, gives everything a glossy sheen that goes down like hot buttered rum. Marcus's silky voice, possessing a faint touch of an accent, then arrives, in a song about a failing relationship, and one's indecision about how (or whether) to end it all.

"All this love just while you were standing near to me,
Never sure about the time you spend with me,
I can't stand the way you deal with friends of mine,
Never sure if love's not just a waste of time..."
And when the verses finally come to an end, and the future of the relationship is in doubt, he sings, "while you stand beside me, while you move into my arms," and it's so breath-taking in its sadness, I still get a little shiver and a tear in my eye. And then we as listeners are launched into a minute-and-a-half of pure instrumental gold, with a crescendo of glistening synths that rise into the heavens of absolute electronic goodness. It's a fucking great song, and I defy you to listen to it and not be moved.

Camouflage then proceed to tear into the evils of Apartheid-era South Africa with the track "Neighbours," a political screed that savages the outrageous racism that was law in that country when this album was released.

"Black men leaders cried for freedom,
White policemen shot them dead.
The survivors get in prison,
Based on laws which no one understands."
I think they nail the head when they go on about how white people, in the white suburbs, "watching white TV" facilitated the perpetuity of such evil arrogance by doing nothing, just sitting back on their white asses, not caring in the slightest how much suffering was taking place in their own backyards. "Neighbours" nails it, and then some!

From there, Voices & Images dips its toes into many different musical themes, from the lost innocence of childhood ("Where Has The Childhood Gone?"), to racial discordance ("Strangers Thoughts"), to abject minimalist experimentation ("From Ay To Bee"). This is an album that is rich with ideas, both in philosophical and atmospherical ideologies, and it wears these ideas proudly. But I've saved the best track for last.

"I Once Had A Dream," the closer, is piece of art. Opening with industrial hisses and thumping that bring to mind Depeche Mode's Construction Time Again, this track ends up where "That Smiling Face" hinted at - the complete dissolution of a relationship. The sound effects slowly build up with ratcheting tension, as Marcus's sad, sad voice talks about how the titular "dream" went, with flourishes of poetic language:

"She nearly had filled all my days,
She let me forget all the things around me,
She was all I wanted ..."
And then she was gone, along with the dream, and the absolute crushing loneliness is so real, so visceral, that now there is nothing and life stares at him like a gaping emptiness. Once that realization has set in, the lyrics end, and we are treated to a Baroque orchestration that rains down on our ears with thudding drums, lilting reedy-sounding synths, and a soaring sampling of stringed instruments, coating us in the lonesomeness that surrounds the death of love. Stirring stuff, absolutely.

But don't take my word for it. Here's a remix of "Neighbours," courtesy of our good friends at YouTube. Take care of yourselves, it's nice to see you around! Spread the word, and have some happy listening. Cheers.



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