Paul Bern did it because he could’t do it to Jean Harlow; Johnny Ace didn’t because he couldn’t count; George Sanders did it because he was bored (and despite all the existential ya-hoo THAT’S the ONLY reason to do it). No, it’s not fratricide, not matricide and not insecticide, it’s that K-Tel of demises, suicide (talking about the act, not the group). Suicide--the ultimate entertainment, the kinkiest of kinks and the only real solution to inflation and unemployment. I like Suicide (talking about the group, not the act). Why? They remind me of the first Stooges album and besides, the concept of punk synthesizers ain’t that hard to digest.
Their sound is unique, a massive clot of Wild Man Fischer attitudinizing and stamping plant technological titillation without a single scintilla of promise, just demise personified. These two biomaniacs flummox, fluoresce and fizzle into your ears in an anencephalic symphony of spontaneous, directionless dirge. That’s why their vision is so frightening and fundamental. Taking all the bad parts of cough syrup musical technology presented by such stalwarts as Tangerine Dream, Gong, ELP and all German groups, Suicide ingests them and regurgitates ’em right back in a tsunami of tasteless bliss.
Alan plays lead throat and Martin Rev plays instrument. The songs are interesting excursions into droneland. “Ghost Rider” is literate like T.S. Eliot, and the epic is a little synthop called “Frankie Teardrop” which is just a thinly disguised retelling of Frankie Machine and the Frank Sinatra story. And guess what, they even get political, when was the last time you ever heard of a progressive band getting political? They do a toon called “Che” and it’s better than the soundtrack from the movie of the same name and it’s also better than Omar Sharif.
So as far as a first effort goes, these two mechanized marvels get an A on the OK meter. Of course, it could be that Alan and Marty are just two clowns who have found a hard method with which to try and steal your money. Like they say in the comic books, “Eat meat, Veggymen!!!!” This’ll surely put the big S back in suicide.
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