If you’re looking for a f*cked up post punk meets industrial strength electro-rock assault on the senses then Lush Rimbaud have got what you want. You want proof? Take a listen to their album “The Sound of a Vanishing Era” and, while you are at it, turn the volume up and frighten the neighbours.
If there ever was an album that could be used as a weapon then this is it. Forget the scientific precision of nuclear weapons and go instead for a massive emotional impact that could crack a continent in half. It would be no sneak attack either as the title track is but the first volley in a monster firefight. The vocals are lost in the distance as discordant guitars and drums with the power of Thor’s hammer pound your ears. As the rest of this album’s armament is brought to bear, the ideas behind it start to stick in your mind and chants such “…I don’t people believe the people have the power” echo in your head. Make no mistake, Lush Rimbaud aren’t looking for love here – they are armed and ready to display torment and frustration at what surrounds them and do so to especially brutal effect in “They Make Money (We Make Noise)” and in the hypnotically twisted “Space Ship”.
True, there is a bizarre intellectual monologue on “Sounds From A New Era” to provide a momentary diversion but there is also no point in denying the fact that this album is relentless and I would think that there are thrash metal bands out there that wish they could keep up the level of intensity that this hardcore Euro robo-rock uses to blast its way out of the speakers. As “Changing Gear” clatters off the walls like a drunken rant put to song, you know it is all about to end and “The Chameleon” slides this album off the metaphorical cliff into the deep, dark pit with the words “I don’t want to let you down” burning in your ears.
So if you are an angry young man and you need a soundtrack for your discontent (and let’s face it - acoustic guitars and songs about trees just don’t cut it anymore) then crank “The Sound of a Vanishing Era” up because when it is gone, it really will be gone.
Bluesbunny's Album of the Month (September 2010)
(Available on vinyl)