The Residents – Demons Dance Alone (pREServed re-issue)
I’ve long since lost track of whether these releases are in any sort of order, but let’s at least rejoice that so much time and care has been given to a band’s legacy which could so easily have disappeared into complete obscurity. Of course, we’re still on the distant frontiers of the mainstream, but these albums have been treated with such reverence, that even their less appreciated work has been elevated to new heights. And talking of under-appreciated work…
It will always be the case that anything post-70s or, at a pitch, 80s, will be viewed as less important (trans: good) but ‘Demons Dance Alone is an album that always came across as being worthy of revisiting, primarily as it makes so little attempt at lightening what is a surprisingly bleak landscape of music. The (as always) excellent liner notes suggest the album is not only a response to the events of 9/11 but the wave of ‘9/11 porn’ which followed, whether it be sanctimonious albums, cloying films or gloating TV. Rather than art or insight, what flooded out was chest-beating, self-satisfied rhetoric, grief Olympics and righteousness. What The Residents wanted was to wait and reflect on the entire horror of it all as one entity.
United by a mood of melancholy and frustration, the songs – and they are more or less all conventional (ish) songs as opposed to suites and vignettes – are arresting in their accessibility. Whilst tracks like ‘Mickey Macaroni’ may not scream ‘hit parade!’ there is a structure that invites you in as a listener, rather than guiding you very specifically through a maze of sound. Split into three parts – ‘Loss’; ‘Denial’ and ‘The Three Metaphors’, there is a recurring piece called ‘Tongue’ (the name of a man with an enormous tongue, obv) which has a Tom Waits ‘What’s He Building in There?’ vibe, though otherwise each track lives in its own world – the protagonists equally isolated and dealing with grief, anger and confusion.
There are two very obvious stand-out tracks: ‘Caring’ and the title track of the album. Both are lyrically top-tier, avoiding the trap of overtly pointing at specific events or situations but each possesses a heart-punching coup de grâce that many would not expect from the band.
I had hoped to fill my years with
More than melancholy tears
But the demon makes me dance alone
They’re both equally devastating musically, The Residents’ stretching their pop muscles unironically. For these two tracks alone, you avoid this album at your peril.
Of course, this wouldn’t be one of Cherry Red’s reissues without an embarrassment of extras. The album itself comes with five extra tracks, though they slink into the shadow of the two full discs you get thrown in – the first containing demo versions, instrumentals, alternate cuts and remixes, the third featuring live performances of the tracks. Given fans of the band’s obsessive collecting, the claim that 27 of the tracks are previously unreleased will guarantee top hats are worn at the jauntiest of angles.
Daz Lawrence
Buy Demons Dance Alone here
