1982 Housekeeping
By Paul Zickler
John Cooper Clarke
Zip Style Method
Rating: 1 out of 5
Genre: Punk Poetry? I Guess?
Highlights:
The end of the last song.
What the hell is this?
I hear loping reggae/dub bass & drum, cheesy soundtrack-esque piano fills, squeaky synths, and over it all, this very bored-sounding Englishman reciting angsty rhyming lyrics for what feels like hours and hours. There are some very faint voices that seem to be yelling things, which immediately echo back several times. It finally fades out, and I pray the next song is different.
Up tempo drums this time, with a repeated bass figure that never changes. Kind of super agentish. The bored Englishman is further down in the mix this time, but he’s still reciting something vaguely angsty. Instead of echoing voices, there are echoing synth sound effects. This three note bass figure is literally not going to change at all, is it? “It’s time for the new assassin” repeated four times, and then it mercifully fades after three minutes.
I can’t go on. I’ll go on.
His voice reminds me a bit of Knopfler’s spoken recitation on Industrial Disease, except Mark actually used some inflection and emotion. Imagine a nasal English voice repeating the same note over and over, only speaking it rather than singing it. I’m sure the lyrics mean something, but how am I supposed to hear them? This one’s a bit more new wave, but there are still only three notes in the bass line, and it’s not changing. OK, this one’s shorter. Whew.
Track four starts out sounding like Squeeze or some other band of joy, and for one brief moment I forget where I am. Then the Englishman starts droning on again. I think he’s had a pint or two since track three, as his words are more slurry now. “The alien area’s always alone / I look like a misfit / No one I know there / I travel in biscuits / Getting me nowhere.” That’s not so bad. If only someone was singing those lyrics, or even rapping them. I’d be down for some Captain Sensible right about now.
Yes, there’s more. If I have to listen, you have to read.
The next one’s got that ‘50’s rock thing happening, only you can barely hear it under the huge gated drum sound and our not-beloved Englishman. “A cuppa coffee and a couple of pills / This is the day the world stood still.” The whole thing is drenched in echo and reverb for some reason. I feel like they’re going for a circus sound? Kind of a Carnival of Souls thing maybe. I like Carnival of Souls. I don’t like this.
It’s not as if he’s rapping either. It’s nothing like rap. It’s more like intentional not-singing. The next song is a sort of fake country-meets-music-hall thing. “In the painful breeze / By the frozen trees / With a heart disease / Called love.” These are not terrible lyrics. The music is mostly decent, too. It’s just this damned relentless recitation. Someone told this man it was a good idea to record an entire album of himself talking in this annoying way. We need to find that person and punish them.
Track 7 is called “The Ghost of Al Capone.” It’s the kind of story song that should work in this structure. Bob Dylan has a great story song called “Brownsville Girl” that’s about 80% spoken narration and lasts about 12 minutes. But Bob Dylan understands how to tell a story with his voice. No one ever taught John Cooper Clarke how to speak like a human being. Don’t just repeat one pitch over and over. Emphasize certain words over others. I cannot overstate how annoying this is. And there are 5 more songs left.
Instead of continuing to narrate the experience, I’m going to let Spotify play and do some research. I need answers.
Wow. John Cooper Clarke is a “punk poet” who was featured in “Urgh! A Music War” and performed at various times on the same bill with the Sex Pistols, Joy Division, Buzzcocks, the Fall, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Elvis Costello, Rockpile and New Order. His albums were recorded with the Invisible Girls, featuring members of Joy Division/New Order, Buzzcocks, and 10cc, among others. He originally began by reciting his poems acapella as a warmup act for punk bands. By the early ‘80’s he was addicted to heroin and living with Nico, who was also addicted to heroin. Zip Style Method was his final album, although he’s still around, just not doing the “music” thing anymore.
Track 9 is still playing. It’s a pretty straight up Dylan influenced romp, complete with Highway 61 circus organ, with echoes of “19th Nervous Breakdown,” although the endlessly repeating bass figure is hurting my soul. I’m trying to connect this sound with punk. Maybe what I need is a lyric sheet.
Holy hell. If you go to Genius.com, someone has taken the time to analyze the lyrics of “I Wanna Be Yours.” Here are some samples.
Lyric: “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner / Breathing in your dust”
Interpretation: The first metaphor, the vacuum cleaner, has multiple associations. A vacuum cleaner is controlled by the person using it, so it could imply that he wants to be dominated by the woman, to do her bidding, to be helpful – to ‘breathe in’ his lover’s problems. It could be that he wants to ‘sort out’ the dust and detritus of the woman’s life.
Lyric: “If you like your coffee hot / Let me be your coffee pot”
Interpretation: This is a double-entendre – a double meaning. Coffee contains caffeine that is a stimulant. It can keep you up all night, as can ‘hot’ love. There are definite erotic undertones here.
Lyric: “Let me be your teddy bear / Take me with you anywhere”
Interpretation: This is reminiscent of the Elvis Presley song, another example of submission. Yet this too is ambiguous. The teddy bear needs its owner, but the owner is dependent on the teddy for security and familiarity. A child’s blanket to suck.
Clearly, this is music for absolute wankers.
I’m really not this judgmental normally. I’m usually pretty tolerant of weird stuff. Something about this album just set me off. Even if this was brilliant “punk poetry” (it’s not), would it be too much to ask Mr. Clarke to read it in a way that doesn’t make me want to do violence to my speakers? Track 11 is almost over now. He’s repeating “Drive she said, I’ll tell you when to stop.” I’ll tell you when to stop, Johnny. How about 1979?
Track 12 is called “Night People.” The instrumental part is actually quite nice. I’m just going to copy and paste some of the lyrics here.
Stereo headphones whisper and shout
Invisible saxophones fade in and out
Like treacle, tacky but sweet
Night people, funky but neat
My wife walked in during the last song and I told her this was possibly the worst album I’d ever reviewed. She listened to a bit of the instrumental section and said, “This isn’t so bad.” Then Johnny started reciting his poetry. Her eyes widened. She shook her head and left the room. If only I’d done the same after track one.
Mercifully, the album is over. It was a truly painful experience, but I survived it. Zip Style Method, I shall never darken your shores again, and for that, I am grateful.
https://open.spotify.com/album/4VeaxTLapwAD9UPacZBLMW?si=J-Yb0qQkStaAySM4z7cgVg
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