A few housekeeping items before we begin today’s foray into my record collection: first, I did great at the doc this week and my liver levels aren’t elevated at all anymore, and second, that was not a Superb anything, let alone an Owl, it was a trouncing.
I’m not saying I wasn’t hoping the Chiefs would lose, just saying I was hoping for a fun game to watch. It’s boring watching something so intensely one-sided. Also, I did some protesting this week and that was good. I’ve now invested in a couple faraday bags for my phone for future rebel activities.
That brings us to the subject of today’s post, the Psychic TV album Towards Thee Infinite Beat. I first heard of Psychic TV via the shortlived tv series Disinformation from the very early days of the 2000s, which never aired on television in the US but did see a DVD release, which I still have.
While some segments of that show, including at least one that Genesis P-Orridge was featured in, did NOT age well, the overall tone of Genesis’ contributions intrigued me and through that show I found out about things like Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth, another Genesis P-Orridge band, Throbbing Gristle, and this band, Psychic TV.
I could write an entire blog post on the enigma that was Genesis P-Orridge, but that’s for another day. I fully encourage you to check out that particular rabbit hole on your own, though. To the record!
I’ve owned this particular record for nearly 20 years. I bought it sometime in or slightly after February 2006 – I can tell this because I know it came from when I worked at Half-Price Books in Des Moines, Iowa, and 02/06 is well within the time period I worked there. I suspect I snagged it the second it came into the store.
Psychic TV is in general a little more accessible than Throbbing Gristle, and is more danceable. This is clear in the intro track to side one, Infinite Beat. I swear I’ve heard the bouncy piano line sampled somewhere, I’m just not sure where.
There’s a lot of spacy, early 90’s synth sounds going on here, from the bubbly bass of Bliss into the stoned, Lynchian industrial sounds of Drone Zone. P-Orridge’s delivery is a quiet, off-kilter sing-speak that gives a dreamy quality to every track.
Side one ends with I.C. Water, which samples the great Dr. Strangelove’s Jack D. Ripper character before it morphs into a fairly radio friendly 90s electro-pop tune that honestly I like a bit better than their best known track, Godstar.
Side two is dancy, but sort of all the same sort of rhythms – everything is basically the same tempo. Black Rainbow has a distinct benefit from the vocals of Paula P-Orridge (aka Alaura O’dell), to whom Genesis was married at the time, as her vocals fit the tracks she’s on nearly perfectly.
All in all, the album is a underappreciated gem of the 90s, and the whole Psychic TV/Throbbing Gristle/Genesis P-Orridge Wikipedia k-hole is a fun one to get stuck in.
Kate rating: 3.8 stars.
I think this week I’m going to go try to see a sneak peek showing of Osgood Perkins’ new flick The Monkey on Wednesday, so if I do I shall post about it here.
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