Love is the ninth full length release from J.G. Thirlwell's Foetus (if you count 1997's The Foetus Symphony Orchestra album
York (First Exit to Brooklyn) with Lydia Lunch), released in 2005. A short note on its creator, Thirlwell is a legendary figure in the industrial music scene who has managed to escape mainstream attention for the most part despite prolific production and remix work, his solo act with an ever-shifting moniker centered around the word Foetus (You’ve Got Foetus on Your Breath, Scraping Foetus off the Wheel, Foetus Interruptus) being his primary musical output. To label his music industrial wouldn't quite do it justice (although much of his music is definitively so), Thirlwell flirting with a diverse range of influences over the years, characterised by a cartoonish, dark sense of humour which made him distinct from his peers.
This album is a long step away from the early to mid 80's work he is best known for through
Hole, Nail and
Thaw. Arguably to many of his fans, it would seem J.G. has run out of steam. The intricate sounds of destruction and cruel nihilist streak of his lyrics are certainly lacking on
Love, and in place are some rather weird musical choices that sound like he was listening to a lot of Serge Gainsbourg and classical music when deciding what direction he wanted to take. Opener
(Not Adam) introduces a common theme throughout the album, the use of harpsichord. It's a cheesy, horrible instrument, isn't it? Well, you are going to hear a lot of it here. At first it is incredibly disconcerting, but it blends well enough with the electronic production to make for a convincing idea, if a little odd. It pops up throughout the album on just every track,
Mon Agonie Douce opening with it. Sung in French, it sounds a lot like a take on something by the aforementioned Gainsbourg, with bells and layered synths. It's unusual to say the least, but after several listens wears in its welcome well enough.
The rest of it veers between goofy but endearing ballads (
Don't Want Me Anymore), atmospheric exercises in vocal ambient (
Paredolia), and more traditional industrial cuts such as
Miracle and
Thrush. This would not describe the music here adequately though, though varied in sound there is a uniform feel to each track blending all kinds of classical instrumentation, electronic blips and bloops and J.G's drawled out vocals into something that is completely unique to
Love. Some of it feels sorely flat such as the bulk of
Aladdin Reverse, and the awful warbling vox of
How To Vibrate, but other tracks such as
Time Marches On with its demented two note piano intro and majestic bridge redeem it.
Love is a hard album to describe, both in sound and in quality. It is full of clear musical missteps, but in turn seems wildly inventive at times. It feels lazy and uninspired, but when you listen to it closely you realise there are some intricate sounds to be enjoyed and somehow, it is bursting with energy. It seems silly and redundant, but a unique melting pot of influences which cannot be heard anywhere else. Such contradictions fuel it, and make this the strange album it is which given several listens has become a personal favourite of mine, although rough. J.G. hasn't fully burnt out yet, make no mistake, although the fire may be gone somewhat the appeal is still there.
Time Marches On is a Foetus classic, at the very least.
