As the bleakness of the ‘70s begat the stagnation of the ‘80s, Philip Johnson was one of numerous figures populating the often fascinating DIY underbelly that fermented in the UK. Issuing over two dozen tapes during the period, he managed a solitary LP, 1982’s Youth in Mourning. Originally released without fanfare by the Namedrop label, the album has been retrieved and given unexpected but welcome reissue by San Francisco’s Superior Viaduct.
In the succinct background information provided by Superior Viaduct regarding their fresh pressing of Youth in Mourning, Philip Johnson is described as a component in Great Britain’s “cassette culture,” an impulse that gets regularly tagged as UK DIY. The origins of this scenario can be traced to the hugely influential shambolic punk act The Desperate Bicycles, the back of their ’77 debut 45’s picture sleeve containing the mantra so many have embraced since: “It was easy, it was cheap—go and do it.”
The increasing ease of cassette reproduction that eventually came to be associated with DIY was also an integral aspect of the fledgling Industrial scene, with Throbbing Gristle one of the earliest adapters of the format. Indeed, DIY and Industrial have much in common, and that crossroads is where the work of Philip Johnson resides.
Along with a ton of self-made tapes, Johnson started the Namedrop label in ’81. That enterprise completed four records: Exist, a 10-inch by Doof, the project of Johnson and a gentleman named Paul Platypus, Straight Out the Fridge, a 10-inch by Twelve Cubic Feet (also featuring Platypus), “The Machinist” 7-inch by Cold War, and Johnson’s LP.
“Heart Trouble” opens Youth in Mourning with a buzzing electronic drone followed by chilly cyclical mechanical atmospherics well-familiar from the output of assorted industrial practitioners, the low-tech sonic threads coalescing into a recognizable and rhythmic pattern. But unlike the industrial-techno pop hybrid that transpired in the second half of the ‘80s, there’s nothing danceable going on here.
Just when Johnson’s audio structure begins to acquire a degree of identifiable qualities through methodic repetition, he up and redirects the program entirely; at first it appears the physical ailment of the track’s title has come to a crisis, a shrill electro-warning signal briefly sounding off before another detour occurs, a voice infrequently audible amidst a duet of keyboard and what’s possibly a motor.
It all culminates with a rather lengthy and very quiet fadeout, “Heart Trouble” giving Youth in Mourning an adequate beginning, though the record really kicks into gear with “It Meant Something Once,” an extended and ominous collage of captured speech, keyboard, additional layers of ambient texture and what certainly sounds like some type of horn.
Part of the appeal of cassette driven DIY and industrial was/is the inscrutability; exactly who was making these discomfiting noises and by extension what instruments and found sources were utilized? The keyboard tones are similar to a Casio and the horn is reminiscent of a bass clarinet. Early on a snippet of what seems to be DJ John Peel is discernible, but later in the piece a male voice emphatically repeats a distant, mysterious phrase via what could be two-way radio. Is it words or initials being spoken? By now I’ve listened many times, and for the life of me the syllables remain indecipherable.
However, the nature of the next selection “C81” is far less ambiguous. A racket-strewn screed against the New Musical Express and their 1981 post-punk-centric compilation cassette (the one that’s been subsequently overshadowed by C86), many will quickly identify it as a cluster of sour grapes delivered in a drawl somewhat remindful of Mr. Mark E. Smith (together with Desperate Bikes and Swell Maps, The Fall served as a big influence on UK DIY), and if I actually thought that Johnson had designs on/delusions of widespread popularity, I might agree.
Instead, he’s clearly disgusted by the gestures of tastemakers and tastefulness (this sort of derision a major part of 20th century art-making from Dada on down) as his music (and that of the DIY movement at large) remained resistant to motions to the pop market. And nothing illustrates this better than the uncompromising blend of pulsing, gnawing electronics and incessant can banging that shapes up “We Can’t Get What We Want.” Throughout Johnson chants the title, this time only slightly less Smith-like, though it ends curiously with the playing of what seems to be an Indian drum.
The concise “Capermix” is true to its name, emerging like the soundtrack to a short futuristic cartoon detailing a universe where beating upon metal produces a euphoric glee in mutant funny animals, and “New Age Sewage” wields a left-field sci-fi ambiance as Johnson makes sure to mix his spoken words just low enough that they’re difficult (in particular to those of us not used to his accent) but not impossible to suss out.
This leads to Youth in Mourning’s centerpiece, the nearly eleven minute “The Karate Kicking Girl of New Invention.” Rightfully compared to The Velvet Underground’s “The Gift,” it combines a tale of familial mayhem related by Johnson as all manner of controlled debris flies forth around him; buzzes, whirs, electronic splatters suggesting a fleet of radioactive tape machines on fast forward, and one undying keyboard note repeating to the point where it accurately mimics a malfunctioning compact disc player.
The terse title cut follows and brings with it clarity concerning Johnson’s artistic motives; “This record is for the disaffected, the people who can’t hear me…I want to be famous, but only to them…the Y.I.M…,” his statement punctuated by tape recorder hiss as it all finishes with the sound of a (d)ejected cassette. After casually offering the inverse, a tape injected and the play button pressed, “The Same Side” closes the LP in strong fashion, Johnson’s ranting matched with rhythm and elastic strands of deteriorated technology.
While initially registering as a random assemblage of experimentation, Youth in Mourning does cohere upon multiple spins, the nine selections taking shape as a powerful if a tad uneven thematic statement superimposing said experimenting with the true spirit of post-punk. Johnson’s oeuvre was but one factor in the UK underground circa 1982, in this case a sometimes harsh, occasionally misanthropic, and reliably intelligent missive unafraid to air grievances.
That a record of such limited commercial potential is receiving reissue is indicative of the general health of the market for physical media, though the reappearance of Youth in Mourning is a worthwhile gesture completely on its own; its repress is as inspiring as it is surprising.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
