Pure Punk Picks
No Tears – Tuxedomoon
I’m a huge fan of what, I guess is called- “electro punk.” Which seems to me, using synthesizers and electronic elements within a punk rock song setting.
Devo might be the most popular band who has done this, L.A.’s The Screamers is a great example. Boston’s early band The Girls, also- I would include Cleveland’s early industrial/punk band Pere Ubu. Most of these bands are fairly obscure but are all- some of my favorite bands.
Tuxedomoon was a band from San Francisco that I know very little about. If I recall correctly, they calmed down after this song and did more civilized music, as most electronic bands did at the time- not sure about that, makes me curious to investigate, but I do know the effect this song had upon me.
A nice, guitar lick and a propulsive drum beat sets this song off, but when the droning, complaining, dissonant synthesizer notes bleat in- we become aware that we’re in for an eerie and uncharted, nocturnal journey.
“No tears for the creatures of the night. Uh, huh- no tears. My eyes are dry, goodbye.”
There’s lines that sustain for measures, synthesizers that drone and groan, vocals that emit exasperated anxiety and hopelessness. And a careening, rocking rhythm that is not stiff and stagnant, but pushes forcibly forward- like being on an amusement ride that’s malfunctioned and is now spinning out of control. A ferris wheel or merry-go-round that is now hurling patrons off it’s ride onto the pavement!
This song is the audio equivalent of someone having a “bad trip” in an amusement park.
This song is like someone who’s invaded your personal space, who is now, firmly pressed against your face. But somehow, their persistent aggression, is not only accepted but wanted.
It suggests something sinister and evil is happening. Something sadistic, ritualistic, and holy- all at the same time. It’s distorting, droning synths playing against the pristine, cascading, classical, high pitched keyboard line that sounds like some vile, violence swooping down upon some innocent prey.
The lyrics proclaim, “My head’s exploding, my mouth is dry. I can’t help it if I’ve forgotten how to- cry.” (There’s a pause there, where they know your first impulse is to hear the word “die”- to follow.)
I recently saw on a television show how the Tate/Labianca murders, the Charles Manson inspired murders, happened just two days before the Woodstock Festival took place! How odd and strange is that?
This song was recorded 17 years after that happened, but I could picture this song playing in those killers minds, at that time, as they ripped pregnant Sharon Tate’s body apart. (Reference “Death Valley ’69” by Lydia Lunch and Sonic Youth, another song I’ve written about.)
“I feel so hollow and I just don’t understand…I can’t help it if I’ve forgotten how to cry. No tears for the creatures of the night.”
This song is cold and dispassionate, nihilistic to the core.
It’s also emotional and hysterical and clearly imbibes the California sense of dread and disillusionment. Of those hippie lies and what lies behind the vacant Hollywood glamour with the always sunny skies and beautiful beaches, of glitzy, soulless L.A.- sleazy and tarnished, fabricated with hype. Of the past hippie movement, fading and failing into the oceean as the knives of the Manson clan started swirling in.
But punk was waiting in the shadows to take it up to the next level. And though I am sad, and my condolences go to the families of the lost who were loved, and I’m sad it had to transpire that way.
“My eyes are dry, Goodbye.”
(Slimedog)
