Lydia Lunch: Queen of Siam (1979)

#2


No-Wave Seduction

The trademark sound of Lydia Lunch, legendary avant-garde no-wave drone-rocker and ultra verbose novelist, is something akin to a saxophone being drowned in a bucket of spaghetti while a tone deaf karaoke singer with electrodes attached to his nipples attempts to warble the national anthem.

Sometimes, however, she departs from this niche and actually produces an album of worth. This sleazy, morbid classic came hobbling out of the wreckage that was Teenage Jesus & the Jerks, a band so awful they were covered by both Jessica Simpson and Busted. Her other fine work, 1992’s Roland S. Howard collaboration Shotgun Wedding is a triumph of gothic rock before the genre was mangled by myriad acts of no significance (see Marilyn Manson et al). This album is something of a milestone in rock history.

In many respects it is one of the finest sub-punk albums, despite never really rising above a whisper and taking a pot shot at nothing except life itself. Lunch came from the underground no-wave scene where some unpleasant nihilists and drug addicts made merry music, and this is a testament of that dark period and what makes this such a guilty pleasure.

Songs here rise softly with a coquettish and tortured sigh, occasionally surrendering into their distressed abysses. If not, they are blackly romantic, evoking the sort of lackadaisical lust only someone wilfully on the edge can. Musically this is fairly diverse, making use of softly strummed guitars one minute then a big band sound the next.

From the death knell of Gloomy Sunday, the almost tribal pulse of Atomic Bongos right through to the solipsistic swagger of Knives In The Drain, the proceedings are fairly dark and seductive throughout, and almost endlessly listenable. There is almost a rare beauty and humanity in these songs which her eardrum-bursting other efforts never achieve, especially in the late-night interpretation of Spooky, which is less tortured and more romantic. Never the prolific song writer, most of these tracks are covers or are co-written with producer Pat Irwin, and it is the arrangements, gentle instrumentation and sway of the work which makes it a short, but consistently enjoyable record in what is an erratic and hardly awe-inspiring discography.

1. Mechanical Flattery (2:46)

The finest accolade that can be heaped upon this album would be the way the band marries the grotesque lyrics to morbidly seductive arrangements and creates something worthy of repeated playing. Here all of the instruments seem integral to the sound, and Lunch deliberately adjusts her dark rhymes to flow with the seductive crawl of the melody. Jack Ruby is on bass and Douglas Browne at the drums, keeping his loops very simple and almost tribal. The saxophone player is not credited here, but it is important to note that Robert Quine, player for Lou Reed et al, donated many of the fine guitar solos throughout the record.

This opening track establishes the vulnerable, frightened sound Lunch affect throughout many of these numbers, and begins with a macabre first verse: "Fingers move fingers, my wrist made of satin, don’t be afraid of what’s gonna happen, elbows to ankles my fist’s out of place, I turn around backwards and off slides my face." This track conveys an almost sensual decay, a common theme in her work, and is a slow-building and morbid opener. The piano plonks very basic chords throughout and syncopates with Lunch’s vocals, sounding especially effective during her mewls of: "I run from the night."

The distant blowing of the saxophone can be heard in the background, and the musicianship is tight for the short running time. The melody and music here may be very repetitive, with the same thumped loop on drums and bass, although this droning and zombie-like atmosphere is intentional and the band do have limited ability, especially Lunch. Her lyrics are hypnotising here, however, and the rhyming phrases well judged at every verse. The sax solo plays out the track, pleasingly scuzzy throughout.

2. Gloomy Sunday (2:58)

Perhaps one of Lunch’s most spine-chilling songs, this is a genuinely moody and sombre interpretation of a very old track indeed. Here the music funereally drifts through the hushed, respectful vocals and perfect screech of the sax. Two loud piano chords chime in before the sax blows quietly and Lunch enters mournfully: "Sunday is gloomy my hours are slumberless, dearest those shadows I live with are numberless." A continuous tension, played by a sustained chord on the organ, provides the ethereal lift the song needs while Lunch delivers her requiem in what is an increasingly dark piece of music.

A second saxophone enters for the bridge after the second verse, and squawks over the more subdued puff from the initial instrument, almost sounding like some shrill cry from beyond the grave. This is a song about suicide, there is no getting around this, and as such is as grim and powerful as the material requires. Lunch does a fine job of the vocals here, never allowing her approach to cross over into sneering territory as she sometimes does. When Lunch isn’t peddling nihilism and debauched behaviour (not that I object to this), she can produce some moving music. This is a haunting and elegiac number with mood, pathos and misery in spades.

3. Tied and Twist (2:55)

The guitar solos are the finest element of this atonal piece of underground weirdness. The drums and bass drone and thump throughout the song while discordant guitars on the left and right pluck randomly. Lunch does her best to keep herself as drone-like as possible, adding a second layer of voice over her initial lyrics. On the whole this is rather distressing and dour stuff, but provided it’s taken with a pinch of salt, or alcohol, is pleasingly mesmerising. Quine presumably had plenty to do with the solos here, although Lunch is credited in the inlay for the guitar work on this particular track.

4. Spooky (2:41)

One of the more charming pieces here, this deploys the gentle shimmer of an organ and tingles of a triangle, and keeps the skewered instrumentation focused for the duration. It all sounds very tightly played and in danger of falling apart at the seams, but remarkably holds itself together, despite the shaker being rattled throughout to try and throw the listener off. The drums and guitar flow casually, the former making use of a few surreptitious crunches and the latter tidy rumbles at the end of each verse.

Lunch sounds very young and like a half-hearted karaoke singer throughout this, but just about manages to inject some romance into the proceedings with the naïve lyrics: "Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you. Spooky!" The double saxes play off-sync and provide a nice bridge which keeps the song uniquely sleazy, and all in all this has a late-evening NY cabaret bar charm going for it.

5. Los Banditos (3:08)

For the under-the-skin, chill factor this track has plenty going for it. Lunch makes her vocals imitate the notes played on the guitar, so the whole song has some ghostly beauty to it. Beginning with a slight strum, she barely rises above a whisper here and sticks to gloomy rhymes: "Slipping seething writhing reeling ghost of my mind… creepy weepy slowly seeping fear what’s not there."

The bass crawls after the verses up a gentle ladder, and a rather Spanish solo plays in the left speaker (hence the title) while a sax is pushed into the right mix with the repeated melody. The song would be repetitive but it coasts throughout on its pitch-dark beauty and fine guitar work from Quine.

6. Atomic Bongos (2:17)

A louder and faster track, this swirling song takes the idea of the repeated melody and ups the ante to almost heart-stopping levels. The bass is louder and more raspy, and incorporates into its melee a bongo solo, while Lunch sings: "I am bongo crazed with the crazy beat," with her more venomous bite.

7. Lady Scarface (3:10)

With bags more attitude going for it, this track is undoubtedly the finest on the album, Lunch blending a sense of humour with her devotion to carnality and mean-minded bloodiness. Not quite as awful as the title suggests, this track is basically a big band number about standing the young Miss Lunch up and is the first appearance from the Billy Ver Planck Orchestra.

Here the loud trumpets and swagger of the music provide ample stage for the tale spun, and the whole thing now sounds nothing more than a parody or something left over from the Fabulous Baker Boys soundtrack. This is heaps of fun, actually, and my favourite lyric has to be: "I was so close, I crept like a cat, visions of seduction lurking under my hat," which displays more New York attitude than 200 Lou Reeds in the world’s largest taxi.

The Rest

The remainder of the album expands upon what has gone before, and takes more a nosedive into obscurity. A Cruise To The Moon is merely a nondescript piece of brass band music without any vocals, and while enjoyable, is slightly flat without Lunch’s input. Carnival Fat Man is three immature people messing around in a studio, and Lunch’s only piano composition. Two male vocalists do silly voices while she tries to identify who the fat man is, before she concludes resolutely: "Well, you both look pretty fat to me!" Appealingly odd filler.

Knives in the Drain is the final highlight of the record, and sounds like a perfect nihilist anthem, with Lunch complaining: "I blacken the walls as I suffer my youth, I’ve got the cancer of birth and I ask… what’s the use?" The big band arrangement is fine here, and there are some wonderful guitar solos towards the end, when the trumpets are deliberately loud just to annoy the listener. Blood of Tin is actually quite an eerie way to end the album, using a backwards tape loop over a tense bed and haunting vocals, the most charming of which is: "The doe lies head, corpse in my guts."

This artist is really only as good as the artists she collaborates with. On her own, her records would be quite awful, and she needs support and assistance to help her gloomy visions blossom, or the equivalent. Even with people, however, sometimes her music is appalling. Here she has fine support, and they all come together to make an album which remains a strangely intriguing piece of work from an erratic era.

That the album ever got made at all remains a mystery, as does the title. Why would anyone want to be the Queen of Thailand? On the whole this is a singularly unique record and asides from several other enticing entries in her canon, really her finest piece of work. It is gloomy, it is dark, but it is hypnotic, moving and a minor, underground gem. Plus it is reassuringly short. If only all her LPs were this teensy in length. Recommended for all fans of dark, ambient drone-rock, although welcome to everyone else as well.

Rating: 8/10