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Mute
Change should be expected, especially from a band that hasn't released a full-length recording in over 20 years. That lengthy absence as a unit calls into question the existence of this album. A number of aging groups have experienced a renaissance of sorts in the last few years, basking in the glow of their perpetual youth thanks to the medium of recorded sound. Young fans, probably unborn when these bands first released their music for consumption, and old fans have been equally willing to shell out large sums cash to see and hear bands that haven't had anything to say for quite some time. In many cases it's all in the name of nostalgia, a whole lot of effort spent to remember what's already been saved on tape or an attempt to experience an idea or belief that came too soon for many people, myself included. So, after such a long absence, it's hard not to question Throbbing Gristle's reason for coming together to make new music. Peter Christopherson has, since the demise of Throbbing Gristle, recorded a monumental catalogue of strange and beautiful music with Coil. Chris and Cosey have produced no small oeuvre, either, each recording, writing, and performing successfully across the entire spectrum of media. And Genesis P-Orridge has not become any less infamous or visible in all of his projects; his name is virtually omnipresent among hipsters, artists, miscreants, and record nerds alike. There's no doubt each member of the band has remained vital in some way, but as it turns out the dynamics between these people have changed in such a way that the appearance of the name Throbbing Gristle on the cover is almost inappropriate.
Part Two sounds nothing like Throbbing Gristle and, despite all the original members being present, seems to have less to do with Throbbing Gristle than it does with each member's later projects. Highly developed electronic compositions dominate this record, as they did on TG Now, all of the teeth provided by absolute noise removed in favor of something more contemplative. Even the psychological and iconic imagery employed by the band in the past has been replaced, not by something more grotesque, but by an image of one of the holiest sites on the planet. There's little doubt that the members of this band have something to say, but there's a sense that the name Throbbing Gristle is on this record because it's a familiar title people will be familiar with and excited about. In some ways that's a disappointment, Throbbing Gristle is the rare example of a band that seemed dangerous and exciting during their birth and remain that way in the eyes of many people. Read an interview with Genesis and Sleazy to anyone unfamiliar with them and some strange responses are likely to be returned; play some of their early records for the uninitiated and be ready to either do a lot of explaining or promptly turn it off. Part Two, on the other hand, might actually win the group new fans, thanks in large part to the more exotic sensibilities inherent in Chris Carter's and Sleazy's work. Powerful rhythms, enjoyable melodies, densely layered effects, solo instruments, and less transgressive performances from Genesis all make this Throbbing Gristle record strangely palatable. After listening to it a number of times, it's hard not to think that Throbbing Gristle should remain in the past and that whatever this is should drop the name before it taints the mythology that surrounds the name.
On its own terms, Part Two is fantastic. It harbors all the qualities that make the individual members' music so powerful and exciting. Each individual is highly creative, perhaps brilliant, in their own right and they all still work incredibly well together. As a result, much of this music sounds like little else, though the signature of each member is unabashedly present on nearly every song. "Rabbit Snare" is a seedy, black vision of brushed snare drums, rubbery bass, and piano, Genesis' crooning amplifying the image of sick cabaret lounge tucked away somewhere in a hidden part of London. "Almost A Kiss" is perhaps less immediately stunning than the original 10 minute version from TG Now (titled "Almost Like This"), but within the framework of the slightly more synthetic Part Two it sounds excellent and is also Genesis' finest vocal performance on the record. "Lyre Liar" is the most caustic thing on the record and the only place where the horrifying spirit of the band's original work seeps through unaltered. The spitting electronics and diseased moans recall the ghost of "Hamburger Lady" and situate all the careful composition in a kind of sick malaise. It's a fantastic piece and, despite its singular nature with respect to the rest of the album, it sits quite well between "Greasy Spoon" and "Above the Below."
Part Two is a great record, but not because it's Throbbing Gristle. It is decidedly different from anything else in the band's catalogue. So different that it seems pointless to tack that name to the record. Whether it was all put together because the name was familiar or because the record label thought it could make some money, the music itself is representative of four highly talented people who are still pushing boundaries and challenging themselves. Don't go in expecting to hear your favorite band from 20 years ago, however, you'll only be disappointed. Instead anticipate a record that will stay in rotation for awhile on its own merits. I expect some will hate this record for some of the reason I outlined above: it doesn't sound like 2nd Annual Report or it doesn't have the same attitude the earlier records had. Don't fret over those details, though. Just remember, this isn't even Throbbing Gristle, it's just four members of that band making some of the best music they've ever made together.
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