And this is wherein
lies the rub of the intellectual anti-elite. The overwhelming pressure self-imposed
on a society controlled by economic security, personal politics, and the
struggle for identity,... and then it's time for breakfast. This dual theme
of heady philosophy downplayed, or rather punctuated by the immediacy of
reality, was set to the thickest, most unforgiving grooves white, middle-class,
Northern English college students could possibly kick down. Gang Of Four
pounded you with the metronomic syncopation of Hugo Burnham's steady drumming
while Andy Gill's shoulders threw his heavy hands at, if not seemingly through,
his guitar. These two elements, combined with Dave Allen's pre-funk era
bass thumps and Jon King's college-boy Marxist (yet disarmingly humorous)
lyrics, forged a sound which would influence an entire misinterpreting genre.
Recently, Infinite Zero (a division of Rick Rubin's American Recordings)
re-issued the pivotal first three albums on CD. Much like the comparably
essential first three Wire albums, these records document the maturation
and nadir of GO4's most creative, integral period. From 1979's Entertainment
(a staple of most every punk rock top ten list), a rough-hewn, linear collection
of diatribes and raw nerves, through '81's syrupy-mixed, dark, brilliant
Solid Gold, to the slickly-modeled, yet uneven pop-manifestos on '82's Songs
Of The Free; these collections provide the listener with the entire story,
infusing the crucial links/bridges that are Dec. '81's Another Day Another
Dollar EP and the pre-Entertainment era "yellow" EP (containing the very
telling and blunt narratives "It's Her Factory", and "Outside The Trains
Don't Run On Time"; a feminine-sympathetic tome relating male dominance
in a relationship to fascistic ideals of unrealistic domestic precision).
My only complaint (and a very minor one at that) is the omission of "Producer"
from the Songs CD. This was, in my opinion, the last good song they recorded.
A b-side to their only stateside hit "I Love A Man In A Uniform"; it's a
sly (autobiographical?) dig at a record company's pressure on both producer
and band in the studio to create a marketable commodity. It includes the
great line: "I don't hear songs/just sounds!" This tune stands out as one
last ironic footnote to their era of importance, as their next albumÐ the
abysmal Hard (which by all accounts was anything but)Ð displayed the remaining
three members as stylized hip pop stars. It contained no songs of substance
or their trademark bite. Just a flaccid ghost of a once powerful titan.
As one would hope, the Infinite Zero reissues give you all of the songs
and graphics of the originals, in proper sequence and format. Essential
to the continuity of the albums as career documents, the label doesn't inject
much beyond unobtrusive label and legal graphics. What they do add (to the
consternation of some) is quotes from unlikely pop contemporaries and non-contemporaries,
the likes of such impertinent bozos as Bono and INXS' Michael Hutchence.
Where Hutchence gives a terse, two sentence summary of the power of Solid
Gold, Bono spews like the blowhard that he is on the liner notes to Songs
Of The Free. His flowery prose is so incongruous as to diminish the everyman-character
of King's and Gill's lyrics with the very suspension of realism that they
seemed to fly in the face of. Otherwise, Infinite Zero lets the graphics
speak for themselves as they did upon their initial release.
Now, I don't claim to be thee expert on the overall schism that was Gang
Of Four. The yin/yang and greek chorus qualities of their words, the loose,
calculated backbeat and clanging beauty of their music. The first instance
of GO'4 reissues (Warner Bros.' 1990 release A Brief History Of The Twentieth
Century) has an extensive documented history by Griel Marcus. Although this
collection has glaring weaknesses regarding content (only four songs, two
of them live versions, from the integral Solid Gold), this comp. is worth
it solely on the basis of Marcus' analysis.
Sadly, Gill and King have attempted two sub-par comebacks, each weak gestures
in pop mediocrity. Fortunately, these three reissues stand as a testament
to their finest hours.
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