If one day you face the devil he will come in person, without intermediaries (no, the television is not a spokesman trying to convert your mind to diabolical desires), and he will seduce you; he will dance with you a sexy melody, taking you in a orgasmic trip, to a kind of delirious in which everything will seem to be in its right place. You will finish your days shaking your entire soul. You will take the fire consuming your flesh by flowers growing up from your skin, and you will be taken into an infinite journey into an unique night, ready to explode in thousands of mirrors, which reflect nothing but the void.
That’s possibly what you will feel while playing the records of Barry Adamson.
Let me introduce you to this man pointing out some of his starlights: He was the bass player for the band Magazine, then moved on to the Bad Seeds where stayed for a number of years playing with Nick Cave, he worked with Pan Sonic and Visage as well, and score a David Lynch film in 2001. Nevertheless, since 1989 this negro has performed a special kind of music.
Mixing up an entire catalogue of influences, film music (special mention to Ennio Morricone and to Angelo Badalamenti here), a personal sense of rock’n roll, and a whole tapestry of jazzy moods, orchestrated, a little glimpse in something openly free, soul-oriented.
If we conjugate two different moments of his production we might understand what game he is playing: The Negro Inside Me from 1993 produces with the Jazz Devil from 1998 a kind of a pulsing core for a properly understanding of his intentions. Because in Adamson’s personal dictionary black signifies more than a color (for the skin, or for the art), it takes a whole signification in the sweet realm of metaphors. Adamson plays with the history and become a black Lucifer. If Lucifer was the angel of lig
ht his ambitions made him fall down to the dark caves full of those who were ambitious enough to take de ‘wrong side’. And Barry Adamson knows those paths, which is clear from his dark songs that spend their time exploring life on the wrong side of the tracks. And that’s why he can tell us what happens When the Night Calls, because those who are initiated are not seeing the night falling, but waiting for its call.Back to the Cat, Adamson's ninth album continues to show his view of things, still bearing the mark of his twin senses of humor and the macabre. Opening with the jazz noir gutter ballad "The Beaten Side of Town", this song has the horn arrangement completely in a frenzy state of mind. One says that Barry Adamson composes mostly soundtracks for movies that have never been made, and this cinematic soul tag fits like a glove, when we get few tracks later, to Walk on Fire, it does perfectly well in actualizing that cinematic feeling, coming off like the theme for a future Bond movie with its strings, horns, and dueling guitar parts, one of which drops surfy lead lines while the other could be leading a band in a blaxplotation movie.
If there is one thing we can grasp from all those Barry Adamson’s records is a sense of drama, that makes us thinking we are on the other side, that dark side. The landscape he describes with those dense and heavy notes are painted in black and white and smells like a bomb in a countdown. Even knowing this we accept to dance till the end, just for the pleasure to be into the hunter’s mouth.
That’s possibly what you will feel while playing the records of Barry Adamson.
Let me introduce you to this man pointing out some of his starlights: He was the bass player for the band Magazine, then moved on to the Bad Seeds where stayed for a number of years playing with Nick Cave, he worked with Pan Sonic and Visage as well, and score a David Lynch film in 2001. Nevertheless, since 1989 this negro has performed a special kind of music.
Mixing up an entire catalogue of influences, film music (special mention to Ennio Morricone and to Angelo Badalamenti here), a personal sense of rock’n roll, and a whole tapestry of jazzy moods, orchestrated, a little glimpse in something openly free, soul-oriented.If we conjugate two different moments of his production we might understand what game he is playing: The Negro Inside Me from 1993 produces with the Jazz Devil from 1998 a kind of a pulsing core for a properly understanding of his intentions. Because in Adamson’s personal dictionary black signifies more than a color (for the skin, or for the art), it takes a whole signification in the sweet realm of metaphors. Adamson plays with the history and become a black Lucifer. If Lucifer was the angel of lig
ht his ambitions made him fall down to the dark caves full of those who were ambitious enough to take de ‘wrong side’. And Barry Adamson knows those paths, which is clear from his dark songs that spend their time exploring life on the wrong side of the tracks. And that’s why he can tell us what happens When the Night Calls, because those who are initiated are not seeing the night falling, but waiting for its call.Back to the Cat, Adamson's ninth album continues to show his view of things, still bearing the mark of his twin senses of humor and the macabre. Opening with the jazz noir gutter ballad "The Beaten Side of Town", this song has the horn arrangement completely in a frenzy state of mind. One says that Barry Adamson composes mostly soundtracks for movies that have never been made, and this cinematic soul tag fits like a glove, when we get few tracks later, to Walk on Fire, it does perfectly well in actualizing that cinematic feeling, coming off like the theme for a future Bond movie with its strings, horns, and dueling guitar parts, one of which drops surfy lead lines while the other could be leading a band in a blaxplotation movie.
If there is one thing we can grasp from all those Barry Adamson’s records is a sense of drama, that makes us thinking we are on the other side, that dark side. The landscape he describes with those dense and heavy notes are painted in black and white and smells like a bomb in a countdown. Even knowing this we accept to dance till the end, just for the pleasure to be into the hunter’s mouth.
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