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Virgin Prunes, "Hérésie"
This was originally released in 1982 on the L'Invitation au Suicide label as two 10" singles packaged together in a box which also contained several booklets illustrating the perverse marriage of aesthetics, insanity and filth which characterized the Virgin Prunes at this artistic phase. Mute's reissue does a flawless job of presenting the music, which is digitally restored and remastered, both parts presented together on a single disc. However, they have chosen not to reprint the art booklets originally included with the set, which is unfortunate for a band as visually oriented as the Prunes.
With or without the visual context, Heresie is probably the least essential disc in Mute's reissue series, but is not without its share of interesting moments. Part one consists of seven studio tracks, most brief sketches, only three which could be described as songs. The emphasis is very much on the aesthetics of insanity, the band utilizing strategies of French playwright/madman Antonin Artaud. It was Artaud who created the concept of the Theater of Cruelty, in which actors hurl words at the audience, deliberately altering and twisting their voices to ratchet up the visceral intensity of the confrontational dialogue. Throughout this too-brief recording, Gavin and Guggi regress into infancy, uttering childlike phrases like idiot man-children, suddenly lapsing into inarticulate mumbling, or raising their voices to bone-chilling shrieks and stomach-churning growls. The record is framed by a pair of spoken-work sketches about someone named "Deirdre," whom the lunatic Prunes very much want to play with, it seems. "Rhetoric" is the centerpiece of part one, a seven-minute noise-rock maelstrom that bears an unmistakable resemblance to Looney Runes-era Current 93. Lupine howls and eardrum-piercing shrieks are pulled through an echo chamber as metronomic industrial rhythms and crunching noise guitar chug relentlessly forward. Just to enforce the pure insanity of it all, "Down the Memory Lane" follows closely on its heels, a wickedly brutal satire of Irish pub sing-a-longs, with the whole band adopting nasally voices for an inebriated paean to the "good ole days." Seeing as this is the only time the Prunes explicitly acknowledged their Irish heritage, it seems pretty clear they had nothing but contempt for everything that lay outside their Lypton Village bubble. Part two of Heresie is a live recording from a 1982 performance in Paris, a set of Prunes songs drawn from A New Form of Beauty and ...If I Die, I Die. Classic tracks like "Pagan Lovesong" and "Walls of Jericho" are given appropriately maniacal live renditions, the band falling all over one another in gales of perverse glee. It's less essential than the others, perhaps, but no less entertaining.
