On gossamers of monometallic mesh the Angel alights and whispers in a quiet morphine haze: monotony!!! And why not monotony, it’s much more physically erosive than ennui or malaise; monotony, unlike its cousin boredom (an All-American word if ever there was one), anaesthetizes the victim, causing all sorts of useless joys to careen throughout the hardening arterial passageways. Which is simply to say that Angel, on this maiden voyage of theirs, drone on and on in a never-ending swamp of bionic blitzkriegs designed solely to disrupt molecular balances and cause flashback excitations. To say that Angel as a musical entity is derivative is to say that, exactly. That’s precisely why I like ’em so much. They’re MOR metal refined to the slickness of motor oil, and they’re monotonous.
Now, being monotonous isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you’re aesthetically monotonous. Lou Reed’s got monotony down to a science, so do all the German bands like Kraftwerk and early Amon Duul, which is why they’re fast becoming viable avenues of musical escape for those dehumanized by their own humanity. Nico is the marble priestess of monotony. And the one thing that Angel succeeds at right off the wall is grinding repetitious monotony, the kind that moves concrete blocks like laser beams, energy as a solid and all that physics do-dah. They’ve got titles and cuts and all that, but you never notice them because your mind is caught up in the drone, so much so that surgery could be performed on your genitalia and you’d never even blink an eye, now THAT’S powerful music. This record is a hit because it plays to the teenage stare like no other I’ve heard this year. Oh yeah, there is one swath they call “On & On” that cuts anything Black Sabbath’s ever attempted. Oh yeah (reprise), don’t think this review is a shuck ’n’ jive because it isn’t, monotony is essential and should be given much more credit than it’s already gotten; monotony is the real spice of life. Even this review is monotonous.
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