Customer Reviews

Laughing Stock

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1 star:		(3)

 

 

This is how music should be.

I will never tire of Talk Talk's final album Laughing Stock. From their first album until The Colour of Spring (1986) Talk Talk very definitely held my attention. The Colour of Spring is one of the best albums of the 8o's, no questions asked. And then they released 1988's Spirit of Eden. Amazing. Absolutely amazing. A total departure from where 'Life's What You Make it' seemed to say they were heading. I love Colour of Spring, but Spirit of Eden is something else. The first three songs from that album are worth the price alone.

And then there is Laughing Stock. It takes off where Spirit of Eden began, and i have heard nothing like it since. I've heard some acts emulate it, or incorporate its textures (Cowboy Junkies, Portishead come to mind), but no one will ever come close to what Talk Talk achieved on Laughing Stock.

I remember listening to this album for the first time, and realised that this is how the music industry should always have been. Displaying great pieces of creativity with support and pride. yeah right, like you can expect that. And that this album got deleted immediately is no surprise. 6 songs in all, but this album is so beautiful it goes beyond words. It incorporates Delta Blues, Mingus jazz, psychedelia, orchestral bombast and subtlety all in 6 songs. I have never heard anything like it before or since, and I miss Talk Talk as a group ever since. But if this is how they chose to go out, I can only commend them for going out with a style that is rarely seen in the music business.

The main theme of Laughing Stock seems to be about Redemption. Anyone familiar with Christian doctrine regarding Revelations will know what Ascension Day may refer to. This whole album seems to wrestle with the divine and the human. The limitations we feel as humans to overcome our deepest fears and drives. From the beginning of Myrrhman through til Taphead, these ruminations are explored lyrically and musically. This whole album seems like the journey of a soul. The reason that 'New Grass' seems a light relief is not only a musical one. Whats explored in After The Flood and Taphead seems an allusion to the fable of Noah and his Ark. And that 'New Grass' seems to imply that Hope is found once again after a great deluge only adds to the imagery and sonic explorations of Laughing Stock.

Laughing Stock is a summers day. It is the dead of night. Its so many things from song to song that I have always seen this work as a goal to aim for. As a musician, composer, you owe it to yourself to find and buy this album. As a music listener or lover, you owe it to yourself to find and buy this album. The only other album I can think of that is such a one of a kind is Kate Bush's The Dreaming. You hear it, and realise there is nothing like it. Thats what its all about. Thats what it should always be.

Laughing Stock. One of the best albums of the 9o's, and by far one of the best albums ever released. I'd actually beg you to buy it.

When I bought this album in 1992 I wasn't ready. I was a huge fan of Talk Talk, right up until the album that came before (Spirit of Eden, which is brilliant by the way...). I loved the departure from pop for them. In fact, it was the quiet, dark, atonal moments in the previous albums that, for me, made Talk Talk stand out. But Laughing Stock was thick where I wanted thin, liquid where I wanted solid. I sold it a year later feeling sure it was brilliant and that I was missing out on something wonderful, but unable to appreciate it.

Laughing Stock was an album you couldn't be prepared for because there was nothing like it. Even it's predecessor Spirit of Eden couldn't prepare the listener for the murky, uneasy, passionate journey that Laughing Stock is. Other reviewers have said it was ahead of it's time. If that was true in 1992, it's even more true now. Mainstream music is, with the exception of the last 3 Radiohead albums, still ignorant of this album. Laughing Stock is like pure grief in that the only way to make sense of it is to let go, let it wash over you and not try to make sense of it at all. It is painfully brilliant, hugely musical and very peace-inducing if you can surrender to it. It's not an album to dance to, or to try to decipher in one evening and I don't think there's one hook on the whole thing. It's the kind of album you put on over and over again until suddenly you notice that everything else starts to sound kind of hollow and trite in comparison.

I once read an article with the engineer who explained that every instrument was recorded from a distance (most instruments in pop music are recorded with the microphones only inches away) and almost always in mono. The drums, for example, were recorded with one microphone from about 10 feet away instead of the traditional rock setup with a mic about 2 inches away from every drum, mixed in stereo and compressed to be full, loud and immediate. Nothing in Laughing Stock is immediate, especially the vocals, which (again, breaking tradition with 99.999% of all pop recordings) have no special priority over any other instrument and, as a result, are often buried in the mix. Silence and space play an important roll in this album as does the complex and often adversarial relationship between harmony and disonance.

Years later, after hearing 'Tago Mago' by Can, 'Kind of Blue' and 'Bitches Brew' by Miles Davis, I stumbled upon an old tape copy I'd made of 'Laughing Stock' and was overwhelmed by it's brilliance. What had before seemed aloof and impenetrable felt intimate and almost painfully, passionately naked. I ran to my nearest record store (back when we had record stores) and bought my second copy feeling a lot like a man who has realized his error only a moment before it was too late. I put the CD in my CD player and played it constantly for about a year.

By the time 'Kid A' came out by Radiohead I felt unsurprised. 'Kid A' was great. I'm a big fan. But for me, it wasn't revolutionary, it wasn't groundbreaking. I had already been to the source.

Laughing Stock is deep stuff, and there there is no other album quite like it. If you like modern Radiohead, if you like Tom Waits, if you love Can, Holger Czukay, or David Sylvian, you will probably love this album. But you won't love it right away. Give it time.

Talk Talk were dropped by EMI after a row over their previous album, the equally brilliant SPIRIT OF EDEN. They turned to Polydor's jazz label, Verve, to release their final album, but executives on the label must have despaired when they realised they had acquired some of the most uncommercial music ever recorded by a rock band. The album was deleted within three months!

Fortunately another label has stepped in to rescue this extraordinary piece. Talk Talk had already entered into studio lore for spending a long and expensive day recording a large brass section, keeping only the sound of a trumpeter clearing spit from his mouthpiece.

This is dark music, set to Mark Hollis's lyrics about sin and redemption. I don't bother too much with words personally -- Hollis never makes it very easy for us to follow what his fragile voice is singing about. The music is simply tremendous: spiritual, improvisatory, overflowing with ideas. This is Hollis's LOVE SUPREME. It is in the same vein, but in my view much better, than Radiohead's KID A.

Talk Talk's final album was probably meticulously planned and structured - yet somehow it comes across as a spontaneous, flowing jam session. A highly eclectic work, it combines jazz, classical and blues influences, and even seems to anticipate future musical trends such as trip-hop, acid jazz and even industrial ambient. These diverse elements, however, are always used judiciously. Mark Hollis and his fellow musicians understand the importance of space within the music, and they build up layers and pare them back with remarkable subtlety. An album of focussed passion, with an emotional range sometimes bordering on the spiritual, it's a worthy companion piece to its predecessor 'Spirit of Eden'. Once pigeon-holed into the early 80's synth-pop genre, Talk Talk departed a decade or so later totally transformed. This album is proof positive.

Formed in the U.K. in 1981.....Talk Talk have seeked out their own increasingly individualistic path of music. With a sound and structure that would encompass 'New Wave', 'Post-Rock', 'Jazz', 'Classical'...(and later on) 'Ambient'. Theirs is a sound that centres around the fractured vocal dynamics of vocalist "Mark Hollis", and with each album becoming more increasingly harder to catergorise & define. Which centered around largely uncategorizable sound informed, by pieces of various downtempo genres reworked and composed to fit within their increasingly selective musical sensibilities, and seemingly committed to making huge musical (and artistic) strides with each successive album.

Although probably best known for their U.K. hit single "Life's What you Make it", which was a gloriously uplifting piece of sophisticated reflective experimental/Post-Rock. The album "Laughing stock" instead takes off from where the equally breath-taking "Spirit of Eden" finished, with elegant, organic and engaging electronics, fleshed out tunes of simply beautiful understated grace and mood. Here things are taken a step further...comprising of Six distinct parts, each is arguably a stand-out in their own right. "Myrrhman" is a song with the barest sketches of ambient instruments, and compositions of equal parts minimalist guitar & piano. With Mark Hollis adding fractures of vocals over the top, in the subtlest way possible....its cerebral without seeming pretentious, moving without feeling forced, and a statement of artistic endeavour over commercial appeal.

"Ascension Day", is considerably more uptempo...with more layers of percussion and lingering guitar riff, punctuated by strings and horns, and after listening to it's fusion of guitar feedback & detached vocals matched with a haunting hypnotic sound, belie a level of of complexity and immense beauty, and it becomes quickly clear that the band are stretching for something far beyond conventional pop/rock themes and entering into a more spiritual realm, even if that means sacrificing mainstream appeal, in favour of something more substantial.

"New Grass", like the rest of the tracks on this album, is mostly a feature long improvised section, with delicately balanced ambient flourshies with each part of the track delicately unfolding subtly and fitting perfectly into the dreamlike mood of the rest of the album, and feel like evolving soundscapes, constantly pushing the boundaries of atmospheric music, & instrumentation, to a level only previously felt on "Spirit of Eden", and thus managing to make all the elements combine, to produce something of a truly breath-taking introspective elegance.

For an album that was generally ignored by the record-buying public, it's probably not too hard to see why this was passed over. It landed at a time, when British music was firmly enthralled with both Pop & Rock music in the more conventional sense, and so the lilting, delicate and softly-focused performances of this quietly elegant album, must have been seen as hugely out of step with what was currently being produced. But just because it was ignored then, doesn't mean that you should ignore it now. If you are reading this review, then you are almost certainly strongly recommended to pick this album up. It shows an air of grace, bittersweet and passionate subtlety rarely seen in the music, around the time this was released (or indeed since), and one that unfortunately relegated the band to the margins of being a cult act, that was no longer a viable commercial prospect. Its a album that if far too subtle for mass market appeal, but those that are prepared to take the leap, will be rewarded with a creatively and artistically stunning album. Extremely recommended.

`Myrrhman' is gently hypnotic, apparently devoid of structure and impossibly delicate, the barely audible vocals only heightening the soothing, spacious nature of the music. `Ascension Day' is far more accessible, although that word barely functions in the context of this album. It draws the listener in slowly with its deceptively simple, chorus like turn at some points, yet descends into a carefully orchestrated inferno of intense noise, each instrument combining confidently to achieve a cacophonous overall effect. `After the Flood' the albums massive epic, incorporates touches of organ and a lengthy section of guitar feedback which is somehow more eloquent than a thousand solos.
After the masterpiece 'Spirit of Eden' one had to wonder where Talk Talk could go. These songs illustrate the grand plan of Mark Hollis then, namely, his desire to fuse progressive touches with a pop-aesthetic with touches of jazz and free form experimentation to create something entirely without peer in the world of `rock', for want of a better word, music. `Laughing Stock' sees the band move further away from traditional song structures, musical ideas or conventional use of instruments. Hollise's genius is not his talent for taking a musical hook which can worm its way into your brain and never leave, and painting a jaw dropping aural tapestry around two or three such ideas out of which emerges a beast that, I suppose, I'd have to call a song. More, it is his ability to utilize the sound of a number of instruments, slotting them together in ways I'd never have thought possible, to produce an overall effect that is never short of stunning. One only has to listen to the driving percussion on `Ascension day' or `New Grass', then wonder at how the swathes of organ and harmonium, then the crescendos of harmonica, then the spiteful, dissonant points of guitar are fused on to a musical movement which seems to evolve like it is alive, rather than simply a band playing together.
Despite all this, it is the fact that the music is as accessible as it undoubtedly is that assures this albums legendary status. There are no solos, no particularly long interludes, and certainly not a wasted second on the disc. Rather, the experimentation is in form, structure, voice, and the manner in which instrument combine, as I've mentioned. The song `Runeii' is of particular note, as it may be the only song I've heard to use space (yeah, silence) to drive its point home: somehow, despite the pleading, at times remarkably powerful vocals of Hollis, it is the tantalizing, carefully placed gaps in the flow which punctuate the song that lends it its sense of urgency, the sliding guitar lines only adding to this feeling. This, I believe, is the central focus of the album, and the apex of the bands vision: to use experimentation as a means of putting across a message in a new, original way, and hence heightening its power.
This is a very important record. It has emotional depth and power rarely matched, and it progresses in the most profound way: no pretension, no wasted notes, no indulgence. Along with `Spirit of Eden' which is probably the place to start with this incarnation of the band, it reveals layers barely imagined, over time, and quickly becomes indispensable. I would urge anyone who reads this and feels they may like this sort of thing to please, please check this album out. Don't just take my word for it, repeat listens will unveil a masterpiece.

Quick! The first things you think of when the name of Talk Talk is uttered:

1982, New Romantics, synthesizers, Anglophillic vocals, MTV (hey, even MV3...Richard Blade), "Talk Talk" (the song), white suits, lopsided hair-dos.

Now the last things you think of when it comes to Talk Talk:

Haunting soundscapes, soulful vocals, eerie sentiments of loss & longing, jazzy influences, organic instrumentation, updated psychedelia, Hammond B-3 organ dirt.

Well, the latter is very much the truth, especially when it applies to Talk Talk's final album, "Laughing Stock". Getting acquainted with it in 1996, five years after its release, took me by shock when I heard it in a reocrd store (and kudos to that person who decided to throw this on the system).

"Laughing Stock" has been compared to numerous artists over the years ranging from Steve Winwood to John Martyn, and the similarities are very understandable (I have a car tape with Martyn & Talk Talk that I play on a good basis). To me, it reminds me of latter period Rascals (1969-1972), only slowed down quite a bit.

Mark Hollis is a most unusual soul singer. He could have slipped into a plastic 80's soul bag mode (a' la overproduced and slick production values...in fact, come to think of it, he did with the "Colour Of Spring"). But with albums like "Spirit Of Eden" and "Laughing Stock", the efforts sound like Hollis is learning how to sing all over again. And by going this direction, he sacrificed every damned temptation and commercial trapping that was redemptive to his soul and damning to his popular career.

And it works. Obviously, he discovered some new things about himself that are hard to ignore, for there's some serious pain being voiced. What was once a rather melodramatic instrument used for a slick pop product (though I'll give nods towards 1984's "It's My Life" album for taking a small step forward), turns into a voice that reveals a true human frailty that makes it a challenge to listen to sometimes. It creeps into the soul quite effectively, alongside the stripped down arrangements that are jazzy, haunting and reminiscent of the early 70's British jazz-folk movement.

When I hear Mark's voice, not only do I hear Martyn and the Rascals' Eddie Brigati & Felix Cavaliere, but also Robert Wyatt & Richard Thompson (brother Danny played on "The Spirit of Eden"). Strange bedfellows? Perhaps. But there's a lot of folk roots in those above singers, whether they may be from singing renditions of 'John Barleycorn' in folk pub circles or New Jersey blue eyed soul played garage-style in skating rinks & teen clubs. Hollis's soul was always there, but it had to take a few knocks along the way (one of the major ones being the 80's).

There's only 6 tracks, but all are excellent. "Ascension Day" with its long droning lines, garage/jazz rhythm guitar and lyrics that are clearly open to interpretation (they're not happy ones) builds up to a beautiful intensity until it's cold cut-off and sudden segue into "After The Flood" with it's opening of tranquil piano notes into a nine minute epic with a metronomic jazz drum pattern, harmonica, organ and some remarkable chord changes. "Taphead" is damn eerie, as well as "Myrrhman" (with it's sad muted trumpet) and the closer "Runeii". Only "New Grass" provides some slight emotional relief.

This album is cut from the cloth of the great Prog Rock tradition: plenty of space for composition, breath and approach. Forget the 3 minute pop singles. It's not welcome here.

It's also true and faithful to Eric Dolphy's great philosophy of music, that when it's played, it disappears into air, never to be recovered again. Maybe tape can be a slight remedy to capturing that magic, but what about the after-effects on the soul itself? It's the moment that cannot be recaptured, no matter how much you want to try to revisit or relive it. It's impossible.

"Laughing Stock" is a beautiful example of the above philosophy. A moment in time that cannot and will not be relived. Thankfully, there's the record.

It's not easy, not to say contradictory in terms to write a review of this album. Beeing alongside its predecessor one of the eight, ten albums that definitely have had the most influence on me, since i've listened to them probably close to, if not more than a thousand times each.
On Party's over you might find some similarities with contemprary bands such as the human league or duran duran, but in my opinion they took off already at It's my life. We all know the story of how Mark Hollis just kept expanding the orchestra as his records made big hits, and i heard him say in an interview that on Spirit of Eden, he finally arrived where was heading on the preious three albums, so the choice was to disband, or experiment. He chose the latter, and Laughing stock are the fruits of that decision. If you count, the "verses" on Asecension day are cut by one bar each (10-9-8...), a trick Hollis only informed some of the musicians about, cauising other to be on a backbeat on some of the verses. The record is full of it, the "solo" on After the flood is TIm Firese Greene walking along the studio floor, stumling upon an electric guitar wired-up at ten on a Marshall amp, causing a wall of feedback.
So, yes, it's not a complete and ultimately subtle record as Spirit of Eden, but it offers years and years of delightful musical safari.

This album ranks as the single greatest album of all time, in its immersive, breath-taking beauty and singularly groundbreaking innovation. An album that starts from the ground (silence) up, built on thought-provoking lyrics and simple acoustic melodies, with six simplistic and heartbreakingly beautiful songs that defined a new, undefinable genre: some called it 'post-rock' or 'avant garde', but most denied even to try and brand it with a label. It's unclassifiable, proving Talk Talk were truly the most innovative group of their (and perhaps all) time.
'Myrrhman' is silence and sound at the same time. It starts with twenty seconds of hissing feedback and nothing else, then lightly and sporadically strummed guitars, single piano notes, and light violin strings gently pervade and build a semi-melody that backs Mark Hollis' gentle vocals, rising and falling in volume, occasional quiet drum beats stepping in to lend their emphasis. As Hollis' vocals waver away, violin strings well up and slowly carry the song to its end.
'Ascension Day' builds around an opposite principle of noticeable sound, starting with pronounced drums and acoustic bass, which then give way to a slamming, howling electric guitar, which only quiet to allow Hollis to sing increasingly shorter verses that eventually dissipate to allow the guitar to resume its tirade, which mounts to slam to a sudden halt.
'After the Flood', which I personally consider the greatest song of all time, starts with a tinkling piano solo superseded by a patient organ ritornelle, joined by a wailing guitar string and gentle drums to lend backing to Hollis' verses. An instrumental section ensues, which uses affected saxophones to create the tumultous wail of honking geese, with then give way to gradually return to Hollis' singing, as the song slowly fades away to an ending.
'Taphead' starts out with a simple six-note guitar solo, which is joined by Hollis' voice for the first few verses, then is eclipsed by howling, blasting horns and low-key organ motifs, which later rejoin with Hollis' voice as he yells 'dust to dust to dust to dust to dust', then fade away into incoherent mumbling and quiet guitar once again.
'New Grass' begins with drums and a strummed guitar, which rise to meet Hollis' singing, then fade into piano, then rise to Hollis' renewed vocals, then slowly fade away again into oblivion.
'Runeii' is built completely around silence. A picked acoustic guitar provides sporadic bits of melody while Hollis' whispers his lyrics, and a few piano notes occasionally play in the far-off background. This song emerges from silence and descends back into it. A fitting metaphor for life. Or Talk Talk themselves.

There's something downright scary about how moving this album is.....of all the albums I own, only one other has gotten the kind of constant play that Laughingstock has. My Bloody Valentine's Loveless is that album.....but if I had to pick one album out of all I have ever heard that have had the most impact on me, I have to choose Laughing Stock (sorry, Mr. Shields...).

Listen to "Taphead", with the speakers peaked and your mind open. There's no sound closer to the voices of sad gods than the sound displayed in the melancholy trumpet soli on that song....the first time I ever heard it, I started to cry, which was quite embarrassing since my parents were right in the next room. It was just unstoppable, kinda like that moment when you realize you've just met the person you'll spend the rest of your life with...I was in awe. It is literally transcendent, yet sparse, yet wholly aware of itself and not the least bit contrived. It's absolute magic, the kind of music that you're only supposed to be able to make when no one else is listening. Somehow, Hollis and Friese-Greene defied the odds one last time with this swan song.

This album taught me first that the hearts of musicians is what makes music grand, but it also taught me a great deal about rhythm, as I was just learning to play the drums at the time, back in 91. You'll find some crazy stuff on this record, stuff that will blow you away if you listen close enough.

Jason B.