The other night, I could not fall asleep and decided to listen to a record until my mind switched off. I flicked through my phone and the album that I chose (possibly accidentally but possibly not) was the new album by Pere Ubu. Normally, I would expect a drop-off at some point in the middle of song number five, but this time I had to listen until the end. Because for thirty-eight minutes after 4 a.m., The Long Goodbye sounded like the album of the year. And, as it happened, I would not fall asleep until the break of dawn.
For instance, on the night I was describing earlier, the insane synths made perfect sense, and there was not a sound sweeter, or more bizarre, than the sound of David Thomas pronouncing 'Los Angeles'. In fact, the sound of The Long Goodbye is absolutely gorgeous in its sheer synths-drenched weirdness. There is not much guitar but the bursts in "What I Heard On The Pop Radio" or the perfectly titled "Flicking Cigarettes At The Sun" are brilliant.
The Long Goodbye could of course turn out to be Pere Ubu's last album. In fact, it was meant as such, and only later did it transpire that David Thomas's fortunes changed and his health started to improve. This is promising because even though The Long Goodbye would be a great swan song for the band (and there is a band, and their contributions are sporadic but meaningful), I sincerely hope Thomas could do it all over again. Because no one else can make music this awkward, and this effortless.
This is my album of the month, easily, and yet I'm not sure I can safely recommend this to a casual listener or even a reader of this blog. The Long Goodbye is seriously left-field stuff that sounds like a particularly deranged film noir, or a novel by Jim Thompson (who is referenced in "Fortunate Son"), an album that matches the cover picture perfectly. Having said all that, there is no guarantee that this stuff will not click.
And I do wish that upon you. Because when Pere Ubu clicks, well, it is a curse, a trap, and an absolute privilege.
