Okay, well in fairness I wouldn't claim this to have been one of the albums that changed my life, but it certainly changed my mind about, shall we say, independent music? Up to this, I had mostly been buying and listening to albums by either progressive rock artistes or heavy metal acts, these being the two genres I was most interested in. I would occasionally see something interesting in the world of pop, but mostly I treated the charts with contempt. If anything, that attitude has grown in later years, and I think with good reason. But up until I heard this album, I had always considered anything outside the spectrum of what I enjoyed listening to to be either inaccessible to me or just “not my thing”. Of course, with the hindsight of age and experience this attitude seems, and is, extremely naive, but then we weren't all born like Jackhammer, with an insatiable need for music, any music!
Infected --- The The --- 1986 (Epic)
It was only after hearing the single “Heartland” that I took notice of The The. I think I can remember seeing them mentioned in passing in mags like “Sounds” and perhaps “Kerrang!”, but I never afforded them much notice. A band that couldn't even be bothered to come up with a decent name, I thought? Hardly worth taking the time to check out. Not only that, but my young (well, I say young: I would have been what, 23, at the time, but young in terms of experience let's say) mind had already drawn its own conclusions about this band, and had decided it was “weird” and “scary”, and the music was probably just noise. I know, I know!
The one thing The The album covers projected to me was anger: raw, unbridled rage, and I was probably reluctant to face that flood. Rich, I suppose, coming from a guy who at this point owned all the Iron Maiden albums, but then, Maiden had always come across as more theatrical to me: sure, they had the devil dancing on their album covers, but they never seemed like they meant it, like it was meant to be taken seriously. All part of the act. The The, on the other hand, seemed deadly serious. They weren't making jokes or comments, they weren't laughing at themselves, and laugh at them and you were more than likely going to find yourself with a bloody nose. If you were lucky!
Well, one thing was actually true. My impression of anger from the album was correct. If there's one thing that defines, delineates and informs an album by The The, it's anger. Raw, bubbling, almost psychopathic anger, just waiting to come to the surface through the medium of music. Of course, strictly speaking, this is one man's anger we're talking about. The The is not really a group. Not really. It's a loose affiliation of musicians who join Matt Johnson on his albums and help him out. More session men than band members, they often work on one album and then never again. Some have worked on two or three, but the lineup does change over each album, with of course one exception.
The The is the brainchild of Johnson. He's its voice, its heart, its dark, screaming soul. He writes the lyrics and music, sings and plays many of the instruments. It's his vision, his nightmare, his deformed and scowling little baby, and he guards it jealously. The subjects the songs follow are all close to his heart, from politics to social alienation and from love to death (the two being closely intertwined in his worldview, as seen in songs like “Kingdom of rain” and “Slow train to dawn”), with some nightmarish dreamscapes painted along the way. In many ways, I imagine listening to Johnson's music must be similar to taking a trip, though I've never taken any drugs personally.
The album opens on the title track, with a quick acapella intro which is very shortly joined by bass and electronic drum patterns, guitar sqealing its way in until Johnson's angry, contempt-ridden voice sneers its way in. This is how he sings mostly, as if he's permanently angry, or frustrated with the world around him, and the way things are; and more, that people seem to be happy to put up with it. He's like a prophet crying in the wilderness, but foretelling the coming of the devil rather than Jesus. A warning, not a joyous prophecy. His voice drops into lower registers that make you think he's gritting his teeth, which he may be, and the backing vocals only throw his style into sharper relief. Some sax in the title track doesn't somehow seem out of place, and though an angry song, like most if not all of this album, it's uptempo and upbeat in terms of music. The dangers presented by love, or by getting caught by it, are spat out by him when he snarls
”Infect me with your love/ Nurse me into sickness/ Nurse me back to health” and it's a great powerful starter for the album, with a sharp echoey guitar ending.
It's followed by a slower, laidback song which opens on lone guitar with a little sax backing, then Johnson's vocal comes in as he tells his tale of woe in “Out of the blue, into the fire”, saying
“I thought if I acted like someone else/ I'd feel more comfortable in myself.” And so he enters into a one-night stand, but there's no love or romance involved: this is pure sex and when it's over he feels totally disgusted with himself, and with his paramour. He's less than gallant as he sneers
”She was lying on her back/ With her lips parted/ Squealing like a stuck pig” At this point the music gets heavier, particularly the percussion which hammers perhaps like Johnson's conscience as he realises he's made a mistake, but it's too late to turn back now. Great bit of strings at the end as the song fades out on female vocals, not sure who though.
The single is next, the one I heard that turned me on to The The's music. Sharp upbeat piano runs “Heartland” in, another deceptively upbeat song in which Johnson accuses the government of taking their orders from the USA, as he snaps
”All the bankers getting sweaty/ Beneath their white collars/ As the pound in our pockets/ Turns into a dollar/ This is the 51st state of the USA.” Great piano work on this, which really helps make the song, but it's the lyrics that paint such a stark, bleak picture of England:
”The stains on the heartland/ Will never be removed/ From this country that's sick/ Sad and confused.” There are female backing vocals again, but again I can't find out who they are. It's not too hard to see why this was a single, as it is very catchy, but I'm sure a huge percentage of the people who bought the single completely missed the political motivation behind the lyric.
Matt's accusation of the USA as the mother of all evils continues in “Angels of deception”, another dark, slower song somewhat in the vein of “Out of the blue...” where he decrys wars and conflicts and the reasons and excuses used for them. Much of this he puts down to the good ol' US of A, singing
”Come on down/ The Devil's in town/ He's brought you sticks and stones/ To crush your neighbour's bones/ He's put missiles in your garden/ And rammed his theories down your throat...” It gets heavier for the chorus, with crashing guitar and thumping drums, and Johnson exclaiming
”Jesus wept! Jesus Christ!/ I can't see for the teargas/ And the dollar signs in my eyes!/ What's a man got left to fight for/ When he's bought his freedom?” It then goes into something of an almost gospel-tinged chant, the music beginning on single guitar, which becomes a full chorus then punctuated by punching drums, the chorus getting stronger and more angry, with this time the backing vocals credited to the Croquets, a big finish to take us into another American-themed song.
Whether it's meant as such or not I'm not sure, but I find that “Infected” can be taken as a concept album, one man's desperate journey to find himself, find something worth living for, find answers, find salvation, find redemption. Matt would probably sneer at me that I'm reading too much into his words, but you can see nevertheless from the beginning that the protagonist is looking for some sort of release, first through sex, via the first two tracks, then his journey takes him through the shattered and rundown streets of Britain, as he watches society crumble before him and try to maintain the glamourous face it presents to the world, while beneath the makeup the skin is cracking and splitting, revealing a much less pleasant visage.
Then he tries to find redemption and meaning through war, with both “Angels of deception” and “Sweet bird of truth”, through to big business and cut-throat competition in “Twlight of a champion”, till he finally ends his journey facing off against the Devil, no doubt a facet of his own personality he must face before the end. The result is left open, so that we never know if he defeated his adversary or was swallowed by him. Of course, he reeks confidence bordering on arrogance as he makes his exit from the album:
”All the vultures and crows/ Are fixin' up the tombstones/ They won't be picking the meat/ Off MY bones!” and indeed
”I'm gonna have Lucifer running back to Purgatory/ With his tail between his legs/ I'm gonna teach him a lesson/ He ain't never gonna forget!” But then, there is room for doubt as he admits
”I'm stuck between the Devil/ And the deep blue sea/ And I know that water's sucked down/ Better men than me.”
Great brass accompaniment on “Sweet bird of truth”, another of the singles released, which is a bit weird as I wouldn't class it as commercial or airplayworthy really, with Matt growling in the guise of an American GI as they head to the sands of Arabia, ending up getting shot down on the way:
”This is your captain calling/ With an urgent warning/ We're above the Gulf of Arabia/ Our altitude is falling/ And I can't hold her up!” The chorus, with Johnson singing as the captain of the aircraft, is filtered through some mechanical doodad to make it sound like it's on a radio, which adds to the tension and feel of the song. Next up is the other big hit single, the one all the hipsters of the day latched onto. “Slow train to dawn” is a fast, uptempo song again concerned with love, or at least sex, on which Johnson duets again, this time with Neneh Cherry. Great guitar sound to the song, and again the brass is in full flight, giving the track a much more faux upbeat tone than it possesses, when Cherry sings
”Are you lying when you say you love me?” and Johnson responds
“Lying when I say I don't...
If there's no actual concept behind the album, then the last two tracks are definitely linked. Yeah, that's right: there are a total of eight tracks on the album, but each one is gold. “Twilight of a champion” opens with dark, heavy brass and then runs into a sort of twenties bass line with tinkly piano, Johnson's vocal grating and angry, with machinegun drumming on the Linn, and some touches I recognised later on the album prior to this, The The's official debut, “Soul mining”. Guitars moan like wounded beasts or loom like guardians or sentinels, trying to block the path as Johnson makes his way down to his confrontation with the Devil. It's a heavy track and the last slow-paced one on the album, as the closer takes off at some speed.
It's driven by jangly guitar and peppy horns that really should work against the lyrical content, but somehow fit right in. Certainly, the uptempo rhythm of the song fits into the frustration and desperation in the music as the protagonist decides to finally face his fears head-on, win or lose. Johnson anthropomorphises this as a meeting with the Devil, a facedown, a final battle with evil. How it turns out we're not told, but it's a powerful ending and Johnson's almost calm anger and determination are evident in every line. It could of course be one last mad suicide bid, as he does mention going
”Down to the dock of the bay/ To feel the power of the waves” and that he's going to
”Wrestle with the thoughts/ Solitude always brings.” Perhaps he's just going to pick a fight; maybe he's had enough and wants rid of this life. There's a definite sense of heady euphoria though, as if this is the moment he has been born for, as if his whole life has been leading to this, and he can finally see some sense in an existence which up to now has confused, angered and bewildered him. Perhaps here, at the very end, the almost certainty of death --- his “meeting with the Devil” --- provides him a diamond-sharp clarity he has never before experienced, and he can at last see the purpose behind his life.
Or perhaps he's just insane. But it's a dramatic, energetic, adrendaline-fuelled ending. As the horns fade out in the distance, we're left with the looping sound of a slide guitar, providing perhaps a strange otherworldly effect as Johnson (possibly) dies, making his transition from life to, well, whatever lies beyond the veil.
At its heart, musically at least, “Infected” can be described as a synthpop album. The music is certainly dancebeat-oriented, and no doubt people danced to the likes of “Slow train to dawn” and “Heartland”, but the lyrics inside the music are not meant to be danced to. Almost like a wolf hiding in sheep's clothing, they lie in wait to jump out and kick the living crap out of you, slashing you with concealed knives and gutting you for not taking it seriously enough. This album can, and should, make you think, make you question, make you angry and make you afraid, things Matt Johnson has always excelled at. To dismiss this album as “just a dance or pop record” would be to do it a great disservice indeed, and to completely fail to grasp the true value and worth of “Infected”, and what it stands for.
As the man says himself in the closer,
”I never said I was the man I appeared to be/ Not the flesh wrapped around the bones of necessity...” If the “bones of necessity” can be applied to being the most surface level of the music, then it is wrapped in some very dark flesh indeed.
TRACKLISTING
1. Infected
2. Out of the blue (Into the fire)
3. Heartland
4. Angels of deception
5. Sweet bird of truth
6. Slow train to dawn
7. Twilight of a champion
8. The mercy beat