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Paedantic Basterd · 06-04-2012, 09:09 AM

Cardiacs - On Land and In the Sea (1989)
Genre: Art Punk, Progressive Rock

I have heard it said that every year has, and is bound to produce at least one classic album. For some time now, I've thought that 1989 was the quintessential exception to every rule. This time last year a facebook trend showed me that I knew embarrassingly little about the state of music during the year of my birth, which is to say absolutely nothing at all, so I set on a course to acquaint myself. After 71 albums, and countless hours spent meticulously weeding through pages upon pages of RYM recommendations, I was convinced I was wasting my time. And then I picked up On Land and In the Sea.

You can throw around words like "disintegration" and "doolittle", but it is Cardiacs' On Land and In the Sea that I consider 1989's crowning output. For all the peculiar mythology of this band, including elaborate conspiracy theories, rumoured label disputes, and neurotic enacted sketches, it's surprising to see that their legacy is such a well kept secret.

On Land begins with Two Bites of Cherry, and in those three minutes the musical theme mutates a dozen times; a virulent preview of the coming attraction: a relentless and maniacal carnival; would've-been-ritalin-kids starring in a melodic freakshow that's nearly violent in its inability to focus for any significant period of time. The resulting album is 13 tracks of spastic and playful acrobatics. Fast Robert brushes against being anthemic through its saxophone and leapfrogs into the dissonant piano of Mare's Nest. Buds and Spawn rides in on stuttering guitars, opening into an empowering chorus.

Tim Smith plays ringmaster, and his reedy shouting functions as a seatbelt on a rollercoaster of dissonant guitars and clownish saxophone. Each track wrenches and plunges in ways impossible to predict even after dozens of listens. There is no sitting on the park bench and observing from the side; you are either committed blindly to the unexpected thrill, or you can go home. It wraps up with the eight minute Evero Closely Guarded Line, a grand culmination of acts in the three-ring circus that marches on, all performers returning for final dazzling stunts, an assault of performance, ending with a flourish and a bow.

On Land and In the Sea strikes like a choreographed flash mob; a surprise flurry of excitement, activity, and confusion that leaves the bystander stunned in a state of wonder. Not a moment of time, nor space in the air is squandered. It is concentrated and caffeinated. Cardiacs are unlike any artist I've heard yet in their queer blend of punk and progressive rock, single-handedly recruiting my interest to both genres in 40 raucous minutes. On Land defibrillates pulse into a year otherwise devoid of movement, delivering a chaotic marriage of ideas; a gem so valuable it would be worthwhile to sift through another hundred pans of rubble to rediscover it.

06-04-2012, 09:09 AM	#116 (permalink)
Paedantic Basterd Music Addict Join Date: Sep 2010 Posts: 5,184	Cardiacs - On Land and In the Sea (1989) Genre: Art Punk, Progressive Rock I have heard it said that every year has, and is bound to produce at least one classic album. For some time now, I've thought that 1989 was the quintessential exception to every rule. This time last year a facebook trend showed me that I knew embarrassingly little about the state of music during the year of my birth, which is to say absolutely nothing at all, so I set on a course to acquaint myself. After 71 albums, and countless hours spent meticulously weeding through pages upon pages of RYM recommendations, I was convinced I was wasting my time. And then I picked up On Land and In the Sea. You can throw around words like "disintegration" and "doolittle", but it is Cardiacs' On Land and In the Sea that I consider 1989's crowning output. For all the peculiar mythology of this band, including elaborate conspiracy theories, rumoured label disputes, and neurotic enacted sketches, it's surprising to see that their legacy is such a well kept secret. On Land begins with Two Bites of Cherry, and in those three minutes the musical theme mutates a dozen times; a virulent preview of the coming attraction: a relentless and maniacal carnival; would've-been-ritalin-kids starring in a melodic freakshow that's nearly violent in its inability to focus for any significant period of time. The resulting album is 13 tracks of spastic and playful acrobatics. Fast Robert brushes against being anthemic through its saxophone and leapfrogs into the dissonant piano of Mare's Nest. Buds and Spawn rides in on stuttering guitars, opening into an empowering chorus. Tim Smith plays ringmaster, and his reedy shouting functions as a seatbelt on a rollercoaster of dissonant guitars and clownish saxophone. Each track wrenches and plunges in ways impossible to predict even after dozens of listens. There is no sitting on the park bench and observing from the side; you are either committed blindly to the unexpected thrill, or you can go home. It wraps up with the eight minute Evero Closely Guarded Line, a grand culmination of acts in the three-ring circus that marches on, all performers returning for final dazzling stunts, an assault of performance, ending with a flourish and a bow. On Land and In the Sea strikes like a choreographed flash mob; a surprise flurry of excitement, activity, and confusion that leaves the bystander stunned in a state of wonder. Not a moment of time, nor space in the air is squandered. It is concentrated and caffeinated. Cardiacs are unlike any artist I've heard yet in their queer blend of punk and progressive rock, single-handedly recruiting my interest to both genres in 40 raucous minutes. On Land defibrillates pulse into a year otherwise devoid of movement, delivering a chaotic marriage of ideas; a gem so valuable it would be worthwhile to sift through another hundred pans of rubble to rediscover it.