At some point, we all idolize celebrities. That's the nature of our icon-driven culture. And for all the media glut, legitimate heroes-- the kind who do something more than sing, act or kick footballs-- are kind of hard to come by. I fell victim to such pop idolatry. After letting go of the Madonna fascination around late sixth grade, I moved onto other idols, eventually settling on a couple of Kims (Deal and Gordon, to be exact) in high school. So I can sympathize with (International) Noise Conspiracy frontman Dennis Lyxzen, who wears his celebrity crush on his sleeve. It's kind of endearing, really. I mean, out of all the celebrities and quasi-celebrities in rock and roll today, he picked the ex-Nation of Ulysses/ex-Make-Up singer Ian Svenonius.
Of course, there's a fine line between idolatry and obsession, and I'm guessing the only thing stopping Lyxzen from going through the garbage outside the Svenonius household is geography. Sweden is quite a ways from D.C., and due to the corporate nature of air travel, I'm sure Lyxzen's anti-capitalist politics would hinder a jetsetting lifestyle. Of course, the (International) Noise Conspiracy's "Capitalism Stole My Virginity" appears with some regularity on M2, so what the hell do I know?
Unable to follow up on his obsession in first person, present tense, Lyxzen seems to have arrived at the conclusion that his only choice is to Become Ian Svenonius, a goal easily enough achieved with the right combination of hair products and like-minded cohorts. First, he would form a loud, angry band (Refused) that would release records with retro cover art and lengthy manifestoes as liner notes, and mediate the obvious similarity to Nation of Ulysses by throwing in some heavy metal and electronica for kicks. That band would release two albums, and be followed up with another band, which would trade in the screaming and noise for danceable, soul-infused garage rock tunes. The new band would require members to wear tight, flared trousers, cultivate a highly stylized look and sound, and get a pretty girl (who had previously played in a feisty all-female band) with a complicated retro hairdo to join the team. And there you have it: the Make-Up. Erm, I mean, the (International) Noise Conspiracy.
The sound of these two bands is so totally similar, I double-dare you to listen to the title track on The First Conspiracy, the Noise Conspiracy's recently released compendium of early EPs, and see if you can't imagine an obscure Make-Up tribute band covering a rejected track from Destination Love. It's all there: Lars Stromberg playing pseudo-James Canty with spare, throwback guitar hooks; the simple, yet funky rhythm section; and of course, Lyxzen's occasionally squealing delivery.
Simply put, that's the formula, and you'll find little variance on any of The First Conspiracy's twelve tracks, save an occasional chanted sing-along ("T.I.M.E.B.O.M.B.") or a foray into slightly punker territory ("Black Mask"). In fact, the only factors saving this disc from being a total rehash of all your favorite Make-Up moments are the following: 1) for better or worse, James Brown vocalizing doesn't translate so well to Swedish; 2) there's a keyboard; and 3) the lyrics.
Indeed. If you like your music heavy on the anarcho-communist polemic, then certainly this is the band for you. For example, in "The Sin Crusade," Lyxzen squeals, "Noise, in this case, the idea of the subversive sounds that could, in difference with the regular pop group, serve as an attack against music's function as the spectacle, the only way we can even begin to play the revolutionary game." That's a song lyric, folks. Lyxzen gets technical in "I Swear If U Do" (which even looks like a Make-Up title) by including footnoted dates and a quotation from Engels' Within the Body of the Song.
Truly, The First Conspiracy's lyric sheet would function beautifully as a sly parody of political rock music. Problem is, they're dead serious-- in flared pants-- and the only thing I can figure is that the sense of humor of the Noise Conspiracy's D.C. idols was lost in translation. Also, to say this political earnestness is something of a killjoy would be a massive understatement. In the end, you find yourself giggling at the lyrics and wondering if such imitation isn't, well, kind of sad.
