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Caroline K, "Now Wait For Last Year"
Now Wait For Last Year is a masterpiece of understated electronic elegance. Like the hallucinatory drug JJ-180 from the Philip K. Dick novel which the album is named after, these songs have the ability to bend time, only in this case Caroline has utilized a synthesizer for the purpose of warping temporal perceptions. No heavy handed tricks or tomfoolery seem to have been used in achieving this effect. With her delicate touch, she created a pleasing batch of songs perfect for rainy evening meditations.
Caroline K was a member of The Pump and a founder of Nocturnal Emissions. Also alongside Nigel Ayers she co-founded Sterile Records, a label notable for being the first to release music by Lustmord and other underground acts from the early '80s. She sadly passed away in 2008, leaving behind only this one solo record, the first release of Earthly Delights in 1987, an imprint which Nigel started after dissolving Sterile Records the year before (having grown tired of the medical and military metaphors he felt dominated the industrial noise music crowd). Luckily for this reissue a suite of three songs titled "Between the Spaces" have also been included, their fragile beauty a far cry from the often times spastic and sputtering noise heard on The Pump and early Nocturnal Emissions.
The album opens with "The Happening World," a massive long player of 20 minutes. Starting with a maximum of oscillations, a heavy throb reminiscent of de-tuned warning sirens soon enters the fray, forming the centerpiece of the song. A banshee like howl eventually pierces the wall, and continues to cry, building up a tension that is held until the very end. A bell like cadence of soft tinkles eventually crumbles the entire ominous structure.
"Animal Lattice" starts with a simple drum machine loop—a steady snare like tap occasionally punctuated by a sharp hits—repeating with minimal variation for the rest of the song. The rhythm is complimented by a low and resonant blasting sound that conjures images of primitive woodwinds. What could be Caroline K's voice, as sampled by a keyboard and saturated in reverb, plays soft notes that echo underneath. The primitive feel of the song is contrasted with simple keyboard lines that shimmer and dance across the top. In "Chearth" these melodious keystrokes are the highlight, holding an air of buoyant joy against other sounds that are beneath its grace: churning pools of miasmic sludge and hissing gasps of steam from creaking aged machines.
"Tracking With Close-Ups" continues with sheer tones sustained along a glimmering line, arpeggiated notes climbing and descending, and the unmistakable hand-clap sound of a drum machine. I don't know if this song ever made it as a hit on the dance floor, but I think it would fit well into the end of a club DJ set, helping people wind down by lowering their heartbeat back to normal. "Leaving" is one of the most iconic songs on the disc, and the last song on the original album. With the sound of cars driving past through mist and rain it creates a mood of dark ambivalence as the keys are played in a way that is as unsettling as it is unwavering. It has a very cinematic quality about it, and if I had heard it before knowing who it was, I might have thought it was something by Goblin for a Dario Argento movie.
There is a calm assuredness about "Between the Spaces 1-3," markedly different from the feeling of underlying paranoia on the previous five songs that made up the original album. Of course it makes perfect sense for an album named after a Dick novel to have a paranoid feel, but I am relieved to be ushered into a glowing realm of light for the finale. "Between the Spaces 2" contains brief chirps whose afterimages linger to create a feeling of warm enclosure, while a harp like melody drifts endlessly back and forth. The third part of the sequence contains the sound of cars passing in the rain again, or the beat of the surf up against the shore. The similar sounds in "Leaving" created a sense of dread, where here they promote a feeling of solemn transcendence.
Unlike Nigel, Caroline chose to drop out of the public eye, all the while remaining a good friend with him, later marrying his brother (and fellow band-mate from those early years in The Pump and Nocturnal Emissions) Danny Ayers. At last reissued in 2010 this album is a fitting tribute in memory and honor of a musician who helped forge one of the UK's most legendary groups from the avant-garde.
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