Some bands employ what could be termed as an "antagonizer," a random element thrown into the frame to cause willful destruction. Einar Örn fulfilled such a role for the Sugarcubes, providing mazy spoken word rants that butted up against Björk's singular tone. Throbbing Gristle were a band of four antagonizers, an unlikely amalgam of headstrong individuals who somehow found space to work together. Their history is well documented and doesn't need repeating here. This is about an end, not a beginning. Just as the origins of TG make for fascinating reading, so too do the final days of the band. This release, containing a full album cover of Nico's 1970 record, Desertshore, plus an album of new material titled The Final Report, doesn't bear the Throbbing Gristle name. It revolves around original members Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, Chris Carter, and Cosey Fanni Tutti, who performed as X-TG after Genesis P-Orridge suddenly quit Throbbing Gristle during a seemingly-fruitful reunion. X-TG's shelf-life was short-- Sleazy passed away in November 2010 after the trio played just two shows under the name.
P-Orridge's departure is still causing acrimony between the band members, including a recent Twitter spat between h/er and Carter. Five years ago, when things were more harmonious, the group staged an ambitious summer residency at the ICA in London comprised of six two-hour sessions based around Desertshore, the results of which were to be used on their interpretation of Nico's record. P-Orridge provided vocals on the songs, and the raw materials were even released as a 12-disc CD-R set. The idea of covering the Nico album belonged to Sleazy, who passed away shortly after P-Orridge left the band in 2010. It's hard to imagine the conflicting emotions Carter and Tutti must have gone through when finalizing this project, although the fact that it's born out of chaos and animosity feels fitting. But this is no last snarl of anger. It's a relatively sedate affair compared to the broader body of TG work, a contemplative pair of albums that feel like an extended goodbye note, executed with the kind of careful thought required when handling precious materials left behind by a friend.
The problem of how to fill the P-Orridge void on Desertshore was solved by bringing in a series of guest vocalists, including Antony Hegarty, Marc Almond, and Blixa Bargeld. Wildcard contributions come from porn star turned musician/actress Sasha Grey and filmmaker Gaspar Noé, with Tutti filling out the vocal duties on two tracks. The idea of using guest vocalists originated with Sleazy, whose typically obtuse selection of singers included singer-songwriter Jake Thackray and famed children's TV animator Oliver Postgate. Here, we get a series of artists sticking firmly to their strengths. Bargeld gets closest to the spirit of Nico, curling a nicotine-stained vocal around "Mutterlein" that transforms it from muted drama into a whirl of waltz-time color. The overall tone for the piece is set by Antony, who casts an astonishing sweep of vocal darkness over "Janitor of Lunacy", all set to reverent electronics and horns that snake up in the mix toward the song's close. Antony, like the rest of the cast, wisely chooses not to stick too close to the source material.
There's little in Desertshore that sounds like TG or Sleazy's work in Coil. Instead this is a one-off strain of inspiration, similar to the excellent Carter Tutti Void project. Sometimes it dips into torch song territory, such as on Almond's stirring take on "The Falconer". At other times there's light pouring in, with Tutti's two vocal turns alternating between strident ("All That Is My Own") and pillowy ("My Only Child"). Carefully tweaked beats and electronics run throughout, providing the album with a crisp aesthetic bedrock. Occasional growls of analog synth feel like a sharp reminder this is three members of TG thrashing around on a short leash. But fundamentally there's a feeling of respect, a sense of bringing to life a vision from someone who couldn't be around to complete it. Diehard fans may not be looking for that kind of sentiment from a band that staked its reputation on anything but respect, but looping Desertshore back to the noisier side of the group would have been a shift into a redundant cul-de-sac. What binds the work of Sleazy, Carter, and Tutti, plus many of the guest vocalists, is a sense of forward momentum, of leaving the past behind.
The Final Report is a less essential document, consisting of a series of tracks the three members worked on prior to Sleazy's death. There's incredible depth and detail to the arrangements, with deathly chills pumped through the sparse material ("Breach") and a choking sense of claustrophobia packed into more layered work ("Stasis"). Nothing feels quite complete, and perhaps that's the point. "Um Dum Dom" drifts into a fog of spooky ambience and just stays there, its low vocal moans effectively ripping tiny holes in the surface at all the right spots. At times it feels like there's something missing, and it's certainly tempting to wonder how The Final Report would feel with P-Orridge's involvement. It's when they move out of the somber mood pieces that The Final Report gains an unusual shape of its own. "In Accord" is full of peculiarly contorted electronics that feel like they're deteriorating at the hands of the players in real time. Even better is "Gordian Knot", a track full of vocal manipulations that positively glower.
Where Desertshore and The Final Report connect is through a fascination with reaching the point where beauty gets tangled up with ugliness. It's something that ran through Nico's career from start to finish, where fashion model looks slowly sagged into heroin addiction, where a rare kind of musical talent faded pitifully into the shadows. By tapping into that feeling Sleazy was unwittingly creating what would be a poignant final chapter to his own career, a slightly madcap idea that gathers more emotional gravitas than he ever intended. We shouldn't search too hard for meaning in his choice of final statement; this is someone who could flit between directing Van Halen videos and making records as affecting as Coil's Musick to Play in the Dark albums. But Carter/Tutti have done great justice to his idea here, rounding off the concept by filling this album with a sense of loss that sinks into its core. In the documentary Nico Icon, Nico's aunt described her as "dreaming and boundless, seeing something that wasn't really there." Desertshore effortlessly taps into that feeling.
