Defining and defying time with Talk Talk's 'Laughing Stock'

By Gary Jansz, Curator, The Sound, It Resounds

1991 was allegedly the year punk broke, or so say Sonic Youth in the documentary of the same name. As an already devout fan of the punk rock of Black Flag, X, Bad Brains, Fugazi and others, I could never quite understand the need for mass media legitimacy that '1991: The Year Punk Broke' seemed to want to ingratiate upon viewers. Its 'see-I-told-you-so' sentiments, not to mention the somewhat veiled dilettantism that always seems to pervade everything Thurston Moore says, was seemingly at odds with a form of music that was by definition an outliers domain. But what kind of bugs me more about the early 90s Nirvana age is that it dominated so much media space; consequently very few people actually knew about or heard stuff like Slint's 1991 masterwork Spiderland, until years later. At least Spiderland has revisionally  been given its due, as influential and iconic. But another album by a band previously regarded as a poor man's Duran Duran would do a complete artistic 180 and come up with an album, also in 1991, that would really come to define timelessness for me like no other record: Talk Talk's Laughing Stock.

Laughing Stock followed the equally majestic Spirit of Eden (1988) and would effectively continue much of that album's style of minimalist avant-rock, taking the blueprint even further. The blueprint in question included both unorthodox recording methodologies as well as setting up a surreal and sometimes disorienting studio environment. Similar to the recording environment of Spirit of Eden, the band and producer Phill Brown worked in almost complete darkness, only lit by a psychedelic oil projector and occasionally a strobe light. Working for months on end in this fashion, both the band and Phill Brown have said that the environment had created a level of alienation and disorientation when having to deal with people on the outside during the sessions. Sonically the bands' recording approach was more akin to the methodologies of jazz bands from the 40s and 50s. Apart from using almost exclusively old analogue gear, mics and amps, the technique of "distant mic-ing" was used extensively. Traditional recording techniques usually involve placing a mic within 1-2 inches from its source, by way of example a drum kit usually has an average of 10-12 mics. The drums on Laughing Stock were recorded by only one mic placed about 30 feet away from the kit. As for the songs, much of them were completely conceived, jammed on, and worked up in the studio yielding the six songs that make up the album. A seventh song, "Swabi," was labored over for close to three weeks but finally abandoned.

I can't honestly remember the first time I heard Laughing Stock, but it was roughly around 2001. I like to think my inability to pinpoint an exact time  is due in part to the fact that the album neither fit into the current musical trends but nor was it remotely out of sync with them at the time either. It dawns on me that making any kind of demarcation in time as to when I first heard it is not only difficult but ultimately irrelevant, and I think that's the crux of Laughing Stock. It really does belie and blur time and place. It's also virtually impossible to not listen to the entire album in one sitting, to do otherwise is to rob it of the hugely important sum of its parts. I used to love playing first song  "Myrrhman" for friends and then have them try to guess who the band was. As expected, when they found out it was Talk Talk, the look on their face was equal parts bewilderment and fascination. "This is Talk Talk? you mean 'It's My Life' Talk Talk?" How does a band go from throwaway 80s electro pop fluff to avant-minimalist jazz influenced art rock. That was certainly the question EMI had asked after the band took almost a year to complete Spirit of Eden, and now Talk Talk's Polydor A&R man was equally baffled, quoted as saying "he couldn't stand to be in the same room with Laughing Stock." Legend has it that Polydor actually thought the title was a veiled in-joke the band had hatched at the labels expense.

Of the tired musical tropes (and there are many) that people and music journalists throw around, the term "timeless" has to be one of the most overused. It's not that it's used incorrectly, it's merely an ambiguous term that effectively says so little when it's used to actually try and say so much. Records by the Band, Nick Drake or Scott Walker are timeless because their importance defies era, generations or years. Conversely, if you take a random sample of current bands such as Vivian Girls, Best Coast (think the Pastels, the Primitives, early Pop Will Eat Itself) or The xx (The Cure, Young Marble Giants) they are lauded for excavating and re-inventing  shambolic C86 indie rock or early 80s post punk, respectively. These too, are all somehow given the designation of creating something timeless. Ironically, the common denominator with all the aforementioned bands, is this: if you drop the needle on any of the records by any of those bands, you know or have an approximate knowledge of when those records were released. One of the under appreciated pleasures of Laughing Stock is you can literally plunk the needle down anywhere on this record and I would defy anyone not familiar with it to guess what year it was from. I have listened to and been enamored of Laughing Stock since I first heard it. It continuously fascinates me, mainly because it is not anchored to a specific time, place or flavor of the month, yet it continuously sounds fresh and unfettered by trend, hype or musical whim. With that in mind, and almost 20 years after its release, I would hope that Mark Hollis, Tim Friese-Green, and Lee Harris would be having the last laugh.
 

Gary Jansz - August 2010

For more info on Talk Talk and Laughing Stock check out:

Within Without (a fairly comprehensive fan website with some great interviews with both Mark Hollis and engineer Phill Brown on the making of Laughing Stock)

 

Comments

[Eric Normann]

Good article, but I just wanted to point out that Phill Brown was the engineer on this disc. As with everything after Talk Talk's debut, this album was produced by Tim Friese-Green.

[Gary Jansz]

Definitely a valid point John. Talk Talk's approximation to Duran Duran et.al had more to do with EMI's marketing hubris than actual reality. Talk Talk's lack of "cheekbones" and slick videos filmed in Sri Lanka proves they were well beyond the limiting skin of 80s electro-pop also rans.

[John Bowie]

I will be checking this out, "Janszy", but I would like to respectfully interject that even in the 80's electro-pop era these guys were VERY musical, very creative and had just enough of an edge to keep them safe from bubblegum status, yet catchy enough to make some bucks. "Life's What You Make It" is a good example of this but again, you've piqued my interest as I've always known these guys had it in them.

[Gary Jansz/ Curator Sound, It Resounds]

Thanks for the feedback Norm. RE: the unreleased track; if you're referring to 'Swabi' it was never completed but there's probably several 2" reels somewhere with all the takes. Personally, I think Bark Psychosis's "Hex" album comes the closest in spirit to latter period Talk Talk.

[Norm Dionne]

Thanks for the article, Gary. I never knew about the unreleased track. Is there anywhere to hear it?
This and Spirit of Eden, even though they are quite far from what I usually listen to, are two of my absolute favourites. I'll be checking out some of the other albums/bands you mentioned. Though I find when folks tell me, oh you like later Talk Talk, check this out... it never quite works.

[jonathan cummins]

Completely breath taking piece of work! A friend just turned me on to this record a couple of weeks ago and I can't stop listening as their is a new sonic discovery every time I hear it. Too bad the vinyl is fetching huge prices. Four Men with Beards should re issue this on its obvious preferred format.