The Greatest Albums of All Time In No Particular Order (entry # 4)

Throbbing Gristle- Heathen Earth-1980 (Industrial Records)

I recently rediscovered this somewhat lost album that I adored as it officially is considered not exactly a proper album release by them (they only did two studio albums before this) as it was recorded live in the studio and was also officially their last release in 1980 but in all senses this is a proper album with all new material and it cemented TG as the ultimate forebearers of industrial music (after all their label was called Industrial Records) that permeates the mainstream from the good (Ministry) to the bad (Nine Inch Nails)-they are that influential to this very day and kill most of the fakers out there. Plus, they have the greatest band name ever. I mean, who doesn't want their gristle to throb, am I right?

Why did I stumble across it? Well, TG was just back on tour in the US for the first time in about 30 years with all the original members and doing more dates than just Frisco (heck, they played that hipster fest Coachella too):


http://www.losanjealous.com/2009/02/04/throbbing-gristle-to-tour-usa-play-6000-capacity-tent-at-coachella-ucla/

So you end up going through phases and hitting amazing things again that got left as gristle on the roadside.

So the legend of TG endures. And this album is the best introduction in my estimation as it is not as obtuse as some of their early work (Hamburger Lady, anyone?) though it is highly dark and experimental yet doesn't dabble in some of the pop like results that show up on some of their singles
(“United” is better than any love song that ABBA put out in my estimation and I love ABBA). This album in particular makes total noise somewhat comforting and lovable if that makes sense.

It commences with “Cornets”-four minutes plus of Cosi Fanni Tutti (ex-stripper and perfect fetish girl, BTW) riffing on a cornet-


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornets

in very processed/looped way that hints at the concepts of Fripp/Eno regarding what they did with guitar. Truly outer spacious. “The Old Man Smiled” follows with it's creepy beat with Genesis P- Orridge mumbling about “can the world be as sad as it seems? in a cafe in Tangiers” over some of the most sinister guitar feedback and drumbox foxtrot ambling ever put down on tape.

Shortly after that, is the ultra cinematic “The World Is A War Film” with the ultimate electronically looped synths providing the basis for the nastiest dreamwalk. Which leads to “Dreamachine”-probably the greatest industrial tune ever san vocals. That devolves into “Still Walking”-an echoed dialogue between the aforementioned Cosi Fanni Tutti and Chris Carter (they were lovers and husband/wife back then and still are-TG folks are so trad and the Republicans would love them!) about hooking up for some “action” done with all kinds of spectacular vocal effects and delays and loops and whatnot.

The work closes under the uber funky and cornet led “Don't Do As You Are Told, Do As You Think” in which Gen seems to “dictate” that we should all be Libertarians (at least in my interpretation). In closing, TG might be one of the most obscure but most influential acts out there.

Kickin' It With The Doc

Heck, where else would be a good starting point but this subject, right, amigas and amigos??? As I recall my gradual transformation from a “new wavy” guy in 1984 to a much serious harder noise industrialist in 1985 during my tenure at thee Olde University of Michigan (Red Berenson-best coach ever!!!), I did high tail it to the nearest Army Surplus store in Ann Arbor to purchase a pair of de riguer combat boots in order to somehow compensate for my lack of altitude which had dogged me from the ripe old age of 12. Naturally they were quite used and gnarly but I recall only being set back about two sawbucks ($20 for you youngsters out there as well as those not fortunate enough to be simmered in Midwest cultura as an “enfant terrible”).

They served me well for a number of years into marriage and into the early 90s despite not being well insulated (remember, we are talking Michigan winters here) nor all that comfortable. Alas, after cashing in on the “go to Japan, teach English, make some serious cash and retreat from that humid concrete hellhole” event of 92-93, the future ex-Mrs. Williams and I returned for a brief rendezvous in Royal Oak (Joke) Michigan, the emerging hipster suburb just north of the humid concrete hellhole belovedly known as my hometown-Detroit, where I previously had acquired most of my obscure vinyl, to purchase a real pair of combat boots, better know as Doc Martens.

Now, even for that time, $110 was quite an outlay of cash for one as frugal as I. But I tell you what, those suckers are still with me today, better than even pictured here. Yes, a little world weary for sure (six continents and counting including favela retreats, natch) but dang, despite some wear and minor scuffs, they are like the day they were new and still so damn comfortable (and sexy, to “boot”). In short, I like rugged, well tailored things, so Doc Martens-you are the best and I bow to your creator-a real man and not some dude in the sky. And here's the “kicker”-I even have a back up pair-a pair of shiny bronze colored ones for special “kick ass” occasions (not pictured here). The best part of this pair is that I picked them up at a Big 5 Sports Store sales event in Portland at the turn of the century for about $60. WHAT A STEAL!!! But unlike that hippy Abby Hoffman, I will never, ever say, “Steal these boots”. In fact, if you try to steal my boots or any man's boots for that matter, I will get all nasty on you like Blondie (Clint) in “The Good, The Bad And The Ugly” to the soundtrack of Ennio Morricone in my head...”I've never seen so many men wasted so badly”.