Recorded in 2000 but inexplicably shelved until now, Untouchable Sound is the second of the Make-Up's live albums, with a faux live LP also in their catalog. Though their studio albums and singles were great (the singles a little greater), the band's ratio of studio-to-live records is now equal for good reason: live performance was where the Make-Up thrived. If you weren't there, here's reason #2 to kick yourself for it.
To many people, that's all the live album really functions as: a souvenir to an event you likely never attended, like a program to a play or baseball game you missed, with the bonus of crowd noise and songs you already love recorded in shittier quality. I still favor the live record as document, an etch in time of certain lineups, setlists, potential versatility (read as: "jamming"), and possibly some entertaining banter from the band (if you like hearing Ian Svenonious say "Yeah?" and "hold on," oh boy, you're in luck).
However, the Make-Up are even fucking with the record's historical value, making any details frustratingly vague. The liner notes only tell you it was recorded "one day in 2000," the included description of the show holds no basis in reality, and even between-song thanks to the other acts on the bill are curiously backmasked instead of edited out. Clearly, careful history is not the band's strong suit; they're more intent on subverting their place in it. Live records are hallway fodder in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame; Svenonious, Michelle Mae and crew would likely storm through its doors spray-painting the walls, one of them holding a boombox blasting Prince tapes while they did it.
Untouchable Sound doesn't have the same thrill as the off-the-cuff sneak previews of Destination: Love or After Dark, but it does boast a more familiar setlist and a more commanding grasp of their signature sound-- more minimal while making better use of organ, thin guitars, and throbbing bass. Just from the relentless hammering and dramatic pauses of the crowd-baiting intro, their dynamic presence cuts through speakers. Indeed, something still crackles dangerously from the corpse of the Make-Up, and it isn't their brand of irony (say "gospel yeh-yeh" with a straight face, I dare you). Their languid "Wade in the Water" simmers and spatters, and then-new tracks like "Born on the Floor" and "White Belt" are towering infernos left from their ruthless desecration of funk and soul. Just as Hendrix so loved his guitar he had to burn it in front of thousands, so the-Make-Up had to tear the music they loved a new orifice on stage and glaze it in irony to pay it necessary tribute.
The Make-Up have long been my indie rock defilers of choice, far more lively and sharper-fanged than Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, wirier and more visceral than any of Svenonius' other bands. Why hide behind a veil of irony and obfustication? Why wait so long to put the record out? They may have been celebrating cliche, but to think the act was empty-- or needs the easy defense of irony-- is a mistake, especially given the immediate influence they had on their peers (I'm not talking about the [International] Noise Conspiracy). We've seen a lot of trends and revivals crop up and wilt in a half-decade of recent history, but despite the band's best efforts, the Make-Up have cemented their place in it.
