Enticed to revisit acts of old, barely remembered, my thickly first impressions fade fast. A cyclic pound of steely Industrial drums and resonant bass synth plucks suggest utter simplicity. Commanding shouts reign above, sentiments encapsulated by lyrical lines doubled in droning repetition. Its stark, minimal and invites a listener to assume replication of its blueprint would be relatively straightforward. As songs drift by, one gets caught in a mechanized sway. Between the lines, an entrancing magic emerges.
Its stiff rhythms become mesmerizing. The drone of minimalism engulfs. Those passioned shouts and guttural yelps of Harris and McCarthy hypnotize. Stripped lyricism distills to brief phrases and word pairings, suggesting fascist and authoritarian commentaries. That Total Age has a curious atmosphere assembled through surface level drum machines, bass synthesisers and mics with a healthy helping of reverb.
Songs barely yield variety yet each one finds a pivot point to add mild spice among the looping. Occasional drum performances add a human touch, often chiming in upon the rattle and clank of metallic strikes. Listening to it almost four decades later, its power still persuades effortlessly. In the context of 1987, this surely would have been quite a mind blowing experience for some music heads of the late 80s.
Rating: 8/10