Gary Numan
Telekon
[Beggars Banquet]
Rating: 8.6
At the time of Telekon's original release in 1980, 22- year- old,
self- styled space- case Gary Numan had already become a formidable creative
force behind the insurgence of rock's New Wave. He'd built a solid career
foundation with influential neo- punksters Tubeway Army, and soon after,
he found smashing success as a solo artist with his albums Replicas
and The Pleasure Principle-- the latter yielding his classic "Cars."
A progenitor and imaginative practitioner of the Moog synthesizer, Numan
employs both a mini-Moog and poly-Moog on Telekon, but unlike most
of his contemporaries, Numan advanced his use of the synthesizer beyond mere
showy, mindless electronic frippery.
On Telekon, Numan is a master texturalist, skilled in creating synth
parts that perfectly coalesce and swim melodically around each other; an
interplay much like Television innovated in the mid-1970s using guitars. He
works wonders with his arsenal of simple synthesizer effects. He also
utilizes acoustic piano, and occasionally integrates electric violas,
violins, and flecks of distorted rhythm guitar. And he uses this many- sided
approach to optimal effect; the piano and synthesizers trade off carrying
melody and countermelody, while some Moog parts are used expressly for
atmospheric effect or layered to build the rhythmic girth of a song.
Numan's ideas no doubt serve as a template of sorts, and many of these
compositions have more than withstood the trials of time. Many of today's
legions of sample- happy, MIDI- obsessed nerds claim to have learned a
thing or two from Numan's intelligent compositional craft.
Unfortunately, few '90s electro-heads could ever hope to match the majestic
synthetic sound sculptures Numan created on Telekon. There's the hopelessly
catchy opening keyboard figure on "This Wreckage" while the song's lyrics
quickly reveal Numan's chronic skepticism and manic- depression. (And what if
God's dead/ We must have done something wrong/ This dark facade ends/ We're
independent from someone.") His mild nihilism set to lush, pop- inflected
sonic backdrops makes for a compelling juxtaposition, and sets the tone for
the rest of the album. The stark delicacy of "Please Push No More"
features nothing more than Numan's robo-vox accompanied by soft Moog lines
seeping over a deceptively simple piano arrangement. There's also an
alternate take of the classic "I Die, You Die," and an acoustic piano
rendering of "Down In the Park." Lastly, we come upon the gentle
"Tres Gymnopedes," one of the most melodious piano/ synth compositions
you'll find anywhere this side of Planet Eno.
True, the kitschy, early '80s starman exterior invited many critical
misconstructions that Numan was just some insubstantial, image- conscious
neo-Trekkie. Yet, under all the otherworldly pomp surrounding Numan's public
image, there lingers plenty of pure, sincere artistry. As the '80s
progressed, however, Numan undeservedly suffered from the same critical
slings and arrows that felled many of his inferior Moog- manipulating
contemporaries. Nevertheless, the plastic beauty of Telekon should
serve as an important historic reference for the wet- behind- the- ears
technoid- rockers of today.
-Michael Sandlin