Italian electronica duo The Diaphanoids return with Permanent Midnight: an imagined soundtrack to the life of a black vampire known as (wait for it…) BLAKULA! However, the decision to release the record anonymously might tell you something about its musical worth.
At first the worry is that this is entirely serious. The press release contains a detailed account of the life of our nocturnal protagonist: born in Haiti, Blakula hibernates in Transylvania before events lead him to becoming defrosted in 1977 New York. Taking advantage of the rich tapestry of experience available within the artistic community, Blakula poses for Robert Mapplethorpe, writes poems with William S. Burroughs, jams with Miles Davis and The Velvet Underground, dances at Studio 54 with Andy Warhol and experiments with hard drugs and erotic fantasy.
The impression is that this is a concept so grand in scale and ambition that it can’t possibly be contained within the boundaries of The Diaphanoids’ usual moniker. Yes, it’s a truly awful concept but everyone deserves a chance. Indeed the eerie drum loops and subtle white noise that usher in the start of the album on “Witches Crew” immediately evoke night time city life with all its allure and uncertainty. Somewhat optimistically you hope that this will be the start of an expansive musical journey. And then nothing happens.
There are no recurring musical ideas that hold together many so-called concept albums, no melodic themes to reflect certain characters or settings and no attempt at any form of narrative direction. Each song follows the same pattern: get a funky groove and at random intervals add peculiar instruments. Repeat for 3 to 5 minutes and end.
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There are some passable moments. The screeching strings on “Where The Angels Fear To Tread” would be at home on a Elmer Bernstein film score but generally the whole thing is thrown together so carelessly with no appreciation of texture or variety that it devolves into merely being boring.
In fact the astonishing lack of musical skill on offer here leads you to realise after the mid-way point of the album what was surely obvious at the very beginning. That this must be a joke. There are examples of artists releasing work under pseudonyms as a means to recharge creative batteries and start a new. Eels’ singer Mark Oliver Everett released a joyfully throwaway dance record under the name of MC Honkey when working on his cathartic Blinking Lights opus. Unlike that record however, there is absolutely nothing redeemable about Permanent Midnight. It’s about as musically nourishing as a puddle.
Hopefully this is The Diaphanoids cutting loose before a major work: I refuse to believe that anyone would go to the trouble of recording an album and devising a ludicrous back-story just to be ironic in an “oh so clever” post-modern sort of way. Unfortunately the sense of abandon that must have inspired the band fails to make any impact into the music and leaves the listener cold.
I like jokes, just not those that take nearly 40 minutes.
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