Pere Ubu
New Picnic Time
[Thirsty Ear]
Rating: 7.9
On 1979's New Picnic Time, Pere Ubu singer David Thomas announces his
return appropriately enough with the shrill, frighteningly manic cries of
"Hey, it's me again!," over a groove more danceable than any Pere Ubu groove
ought to be. Thomas comes on like a troubled old pal who's just shown up at
your doorstep after being probed and tortured for years in the neighborhood
sanitarium's solitary confinement ward.
Thomas is certainly bouncing off the walls, along with the rest of his
merry band. Evidently they must have thought, in a fit of crazed hindsight,
that 1978's innovative (and sufficiently weird) Dub Housing sounded too
poppy. "We've simply got to get weirder with this album, people, if we wish
to become the critically- acclaimed, ahead of its time, yet less- than
financially successful selling cult band we've set out to be. We've just got
to keep people confused. Whooaah! Glorp and Gnip gnop, thanks..." bandleader
Thomas may have been heard to say a number of times during this album's
recording sessions. Of course, the above- quoted passage would have had to be
translated into proper English. It was likely originally delivered in a strange
Ubu-esque tongue consisting mainly of bird calls, sneezes, hyena- like laughing,
nautical semaphore, and Post- Gregorian chants.
Yep, just when you think New Picnic Time is some sort of post- punk
boogie record, our psychologically- scarred Ubuoids begin to realize that
this near- conventionality must cease. Suddenly, on "Small Was Fast" we get
into bird whistling over some spare but sinister- sounding horror soundtrack
music-- a fractured musical form they seemed to enjoy tinkering with on Dub
Housing. Thomas repeats the line, "There's a fly in the ointment," on what
seems like an infinite loop. Then we eventually notice various other mechanically-
manipulated animal- like sounds hovering over the ominous instrumental track.
All the while, Thomas babbles, cackles, and lets fly a slew of miscellaneous
verbal fragments in squeaky dog- like yelps and yaps. And speaking of dogs,
the subsequent track, "All the Dogs are Barking," continues with the sort of
eerie Windham Hill- meets- David Lynch (or Zappa- meets- Caligari's Cabinet)
soundtrack stylings the zany Ubu brethren love so dearly.
And although the critical establishment is notorious for letting both bone-
numbing minimalist repetition and rampant, rudderless insanity undeservedly
pass for unquestionable brilliance, I do honestly think some of New Picnic
Time makes for some riveting listening. But it's not nearly as awe-
inspiring and musically diverse as Dub Housing. Tom Herman's jazz-
inflected mad scientist guitar playing doesn't figure into the overall picture
quite as heavily. And Allen Ravenstine's screeching nails- on- chalkboard shock-
synth seems hardly present, save for the occasionally momentary bursts.
New Picnic Time sounds less like effortless brilliance than some of Pere
Ubu's other work, and much more like a bunch of mad geniuses aimlessly farting
around in the laboratory of sound. I'd say about half of these tracks, including
the soulful schizophrenia of "Make Hay," prove to be worth a serious listen.
Each of the band's seemingly spontaneous instrumental vamps tackle one particular
rhythmic idea and attempt to drive us out of our normal lay minds with it.
And if the music itself doesn't leave you a dithering, frothing- at- the- mouth
fool, then there's always the incoherent, impossibly insistent Dadaist ravings of
David Thomas. 'Ol Dave loves stringing together those non- sequiturs-- releasing
them into the atmosphere by way of his blood- pressure- boosting vocal attack. So
be prepared. Keep one finger steadily poised on the fast- forward button. Listening
to all 40+ minutes of New Picnic Time may eventually lead to public pleas
of insanity, and a long visit with your local Nurse Ratchet. In my case, I merely
attempted to devour my portable discman. Mmmm, Sony.
-Michael Sandlin