Published on Jan 26, 2001
Gary Numan. You probably know his name, though you probably
don’t know his music beyond one song. The first time I ever heard
of Numan, I was about ten years old. I was watching television, and
an ad for one of those K-Tel albums came on, featuring Numan’s
“Cars”. I was a bit freaked out – but then again, I didn’t know
about electronica at that tender age.
Numan has always been a practicioner in the electronica field,
though it was mistakenly labeled “new wave” back in the ’80s. And
while Numan has continued to record all these years, his work might
have remained in obscurity had it not been for Fear Factory, who
covered “Cars” (and had Numan sing with Burton C. Bell) on their
last album.
Numan’s latest disc,
Pure, features the Brit rocker still honing his craft, and
occasionally making a big noise with it. Pity that much of the
music isn’t as accessible and listener-friendly. Not that I would
have wanted Numan to keep recording in the style of
The Pleasure Principle; that would have been too
predictable.
In fact, if you pick this up expecting to hear “Cars Circa
2001,” this music will send you screaming for the exits. Numan
seems to move more into a Nine Inch Nails vein, with the sparse
instrumentation and the dark, depressing lyrics. Frankly, I give
the man a lot of credit for plowing such a musical path and taking
a risk.
What
Pure lacks, though, is a thread that would suck the listener
in. Indeed, part of the problem is the new musical style for Numan;
it doesn’t present itself as being accessible. I found that, on the
first few listens, I couldn’t get past “One Perfect Lie,” the
fourth song on the disc, without giving up and starting all over
again. I wasn’t getting something, and I didn’t know what.
The second problem is Numan’s vocals are surprisingly buried in
the mix. When he really sings out (something he’s quite capable of,
and something I wish he’d done more often), his lyrics ring out
like a bell. But most of the time, Numan sounds like a cross
between Al Pacino and Billy Corgan, almost mumbling the words on
sons like “Rip,” “My Jesus” and the title track.
This is really a shame, because
Pure seemed to have a deeper message that most listeners
probably won’t get simply because they can’t hear it. A disc which
deals with loss, both of someone Numan cared for and a belief in a
caring God, the lyrics to the songs on
Pure pack an emotional punch. (It could almost be argued
that this is a “concept” album; I’d differ slightly and just say
that the songs do tie together, but there is not a story being
told.) If you read the liner notes and follow the lyric sheet as
you listen to the songs, things become a little clearer. But the
rawest emotional nerve would be hearing Numan break through the
instrumentation and have his vocals heard… and unless this disc
is remixed, that just isn’t going to happen.
It’s a shame, really.
Pure could have easily become Numan’s masterpiece, and even
threatened Trent Reznor’s grip on industrial alternative rock
leadership. Had a little more time been spent on bringing Numan’s
vocals to the forefront, this could have been an excellent disc.
(I’d have thrown in a little more guitar work as well… but that’s
just me.) Instead,
Pure tries to wade through over-mixing of the instruments
and leaves the vocals to try to fight their way to the surface. If
only they had succeeded.