Released the same year as Nature Unveiled, Current 93's second full-length record is more uneven than its predecessor and less coherent. Time has been kind to Current 93's debut, but Dogs Blood Rising feels a little like Tibet's leftover thoughts and ideas forced onto record. It nonetheless boasts of several outstanding moments and marks Tibet's first obvious movement away from the trappings of the so-called industrial culture.

Everything Nature Unveiled expressed with brevity and eloquence is unnecessarily confused and extended on Dogs Blood Rising. All the familiar symbols and references to Christianity, Satan, redemption, fear, human impotency, apocalyptic trauma, and positive biblical fables are present, but without the strength of a unifying esthetic. "Christus Christus (The Shells Have Cracked)" begins well enough with looped chants, abstract and breathy tones, and a sense of direction. It is an invocation of Christianity's dark side, a dimension characterized by death, burning, God's terrifying judgment (who will be saved?), and humanity's capacity for evil. "Falling Back in Fields of Rape" continues that promise of a new direction by solidifying it with a distinct meter, evenly recurring and reversed percussion loops, and a seductive chant deep in the background. Nature Unveiled was not without its structure, but at the beginning Dogs Blood Rising seems more thoughtful and coherent by virtue of its more conventional form.

Steven Ignorant's opening lines a few minutes into the song arrive unexpectedly, breaking the song's established vocabulary, and with his words Stapleton simultaneously increases the audio frenzy. The sequence of audio events presented in a short time is impressive. A metallic and vertiginous crash realizes the act of falling suggested in the song's title, then there is a moment of near silence before the now familiar words "In a foreign town / In a foreign land" are delivered. Ignorant's tone is initially narrative-like and it maintains the structure suggested by the song's opening moments. However, his delivery is quickly made ferocious, his voice reaches a feverish pitch, and in no time at all the music becomes equally crazed. The song is then transformed and a child's voice becomes the focal point, and then again another change occurs as a deranged and slightly forced growl makes its way into the mix, and then yet another change. This time a woman recites various cruelties to which humans are subjected while an organ slowly drones away beneath her voice. Over and over again the song mutates without warning, almost as though it were punishing the listener for expecting any kind of order. An unnecessary drum machine briefly makes an appearance before Tibet's dry and unnerving voice enters the fray, calling to mind his performance on I Have a Special Plan for this World. Unfortunately the song attacks the listener almost too literally, inspiring frustration more than fright, sympathy, remorse, or any other emotion. What could've been a new direction for Tibet and Stapleton instead devolves into a less powerful version of everything presented on Nature Unveiled.

Neither "From Broken Cross, Locusts" nor "Raio No Terrasu (Jesus Wept)" improves the album much. The former is a consistent song in both tone and structure, but it quickly becomes dull. For much of the song Tibet simply repeats "Antichrist" over and over again; his voice is amplified, distorted, and extended in various ways with little more than a martial and repetitive drum-beat to accompany him. The latter is, for some reason or another, dedicated to Japanese author, playwright, poet, philosopher, essayist, nationalist, and imperialist Yukio Mishima. Perhaps Mishima's literary and personal emphasis on the body inspired Tibet, but making any definite connection between him and the album is nearly impossible and suggests that Tibet was, at the time, juggling too many influences to make anything definite and powerful of them. Most interesting is the concluding piece, "St. Peter's Keys All Bloody." In a conversational tone Tibet greets darkness by way of Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sounds of Silence." It's an especially interesting musical reference considering the song's generally accepted message, which touches on the absence of love in public life and lack of communication between individuals, public or private. In any case, the song also signifies Tibet's interest in more structured music, especially folk music. As the lyrics to "Scarborough Fair" while away beneath Tibet's scathing delivery I'm reminded of Tibet's synthetic sensibilities on Nature Unveiled. It's clear to me now that while Tibet worked initially within an industrial (or at least experimental) mode, he was from the start trying to break away from it. Simon and Garfunkel were almost the complete antithesis of what was happening in London's more underground venues in 1984, yet their influence appears on this record.

Also included in the first 1,000 copies of this reissue is a complete album remix by Andrew Liles titled Dogs Blood Ascending. It is in every way an improvement upon the original. The sudden and unappealing shifts of "Falling Back in Fields of Rape" are transformed into a unified and explosive expression of anger at the loss of innocence. The song, in its remixed form, begins with the child-like voices that populated the middle portion of the original and then proceeds to Ignorant's spite-filled diatribe. It's as though, by a simple rearrangement and some improved atmospherics, the entire album is given a perspective and force that it originally didn't have. War is clearly declared on the evils of the world, the pounding of drums that were previously wimpy synthetic thuds assume a meaningful dimension that they couldn't have had in the original, and all the musical changes that bogged down the original are given new life because of Liles' determination to maintain some semblance of unity within the song. The percussion on "From Broken Cross, Locusts" also benefits from Liles' careful hand. Instead of being monotonous and ineffective, they achieve a truly martial status that reminds me more precisely and fully of a fascist dread marked by the terror of marching and perfectly polished boots. Tibet's Antichrist-chant is invigorated by various effects and benefits from being truncated slightly. The song is thus made into the whirlwind of hatred I suspect it was intended to be. "Raio No Terrasu (Jesus Wept)" is given the most radical transformation. On Dogs Blood Ascending it is a quiet, subdued piece, emphasizing the somber quality of Christ's sacrifice. It's a real tribute to Liles' talent that he managed to latch onto the record's major themes and improve upon their presentation without rendering the album completely unidentifiable. It also shows that all the necessary pieces to the puzzle were available to Tibet in the crafting of this album; they were ready to be assembled in a powerful way, but simply weren't realized as well as they could've been. The remix ends with "St. Peter's Keys All Bloody," but this time a musical accompaniment that approximates "The Sounds of Silence's" melody is the main feature. Tibet's vocals appear, too, but the contrast between the toy-box melody and his pronounced groans adds a depth to the song not present in the original.

Lucas Schleicher

27 April 2008