This was communicated to us in parts via multiple mediums. Mediums such as messages in bottles found in ASDA (in the milk aisle), flashing lights in the sky that turned out to be Morse Code that appeared to be sent by laser from Mars and post it notes stuck on the outside of our practice room door. Carefully we joined them up and realised that hidden therein, eventually, after much much much reading, there was a review of Frankie Teardrop Dead’s lates groove-ridden psychedelic opus. Captain Mad John Silver (whoever the fuck he is) takes up the story, eventually…
…Also… since the EP review was written the acid hit the fan with the Frankies and they’ve upped it to a full album to be released later in the year. So here in true Captain Mad John Silver style is a review written on Mars of an EP that won’t exist. Check out the singles (links at end) though as this review covers most of them. Over to the Captain…
There I was - alone at sea, abandoned to my fate in the stormy Atlantic ocean, when the motley crew of ruffians and barbarians, who thought of themselves as sailors but were nothing but criminals, left me on a dingy, with nothing but a bottle of water, my bag of acid (carefully concealed on the inside pocket of my jacket) and God’s own mercy, which would determine my fate.
My crime? I alone refused to join the mutiny, which saw our good old Captain, Lord Terence Burroughs S. McKenna, chopped to bits and fed to the sharks. Our planned journey, from Liverpool to the New World, was hit my misfortune mid-Atlantic: plague, madness, famine and stormy seas. The crew had no heart and no morals - they wanted to go back. The captain and me alone argued that we were duty-bound to carry on to our final destination, and we were punished for this. Him, with cruel, gory death, and me, with an uncertain destiny - one which would make death not only desirable, but seem like a stroll along a most pleasant field of roses, with your loved one by your side.
For days on end, I floated on my dingy, only hoping that the tides would send me to the New World, where I would be able to carry on my dream, my vision, of visiting San Pedro. Alas, as the days passed, so did my hopes fade. Alone in the ocean, eventually I ran out of water and had nothing but the finest acid to keep me entertained and, well, fed. If I could not feed my body, at least I could feed my head and thus depart on my final trip - death - tripping off my head, like Timothy Leary, Aldous Huxley and other luminaries of psychedelia.
One night, as I braced for death, I saw a glowing, green light on the horizon? Could it be land? Could I be saved? Or was it only another psychedelic vision? My companion, Edmund the Unicorn, wasn’t sure, and I certainly wasn’t either.
As we approached the light, I could see, at its centre, indeed land, inside a circle, like a tunnel. Though the night was dark, the rocky, barren land looked as if bathed by a strange daylight, red in colour, otherworldly. Indeed, it was, as I’d discover soon.
For, I had reached that most mythical of places - the Bermuda Triangle, and sure enough, soon I was to pass this portal - the threshold between our world and another. This other world was, I beg you believe me, Mars. As if magically, suddenly I found myself and my dingy stranded in the middle of a desert, totally barren, under clear, red skies. In the distance, I saw a stranger approaching, and when he came near, I could see his features - he was 7” tall, dark, cropped hair, wearing a silver suit. “Come”, he said, in perfect English, extending a hand to me.
“But… who are you? Where I am?” was all I could mutter.
“You are on Mars. I am like you.”
“Stoned?”
“Yes… but above all, a man, a human, a traveller, a lost soul. Stranded here, on a different planet, far from home. Another reality which ordinary men and women do not know, see or understand. For though we are indeed stranded here, in a strange faraway land, we are happy with our choice, whereas those other people live like prisoners of a reality they didn’t choose - happy in their homes, watching Celebrity Master Chef and listening to Little Mix and Paul Weller. On planet Earth.”
“On planet Earth… and we’re on Mars.” was all I could say, as the man, called Gullick, took me to his living quarter. A fortress, no less, called Phantasia, and inhabited by thousands of others like us - travellers, sailors, explorers who lost their way in the stormy waters of the Bermuda Triangle.
The walls were made of crystal, and the streets paved in gold. The air was fresh, the men were healthy and the women were beautiful. It felt like paradise. And there was music everywhere - and it was of the most strange, intoxicating, psychedelic kind.
“What is it that I hear?” I asked Gullick. He said:
“We capture transmissions from satellite heart, which we launched many years ago, to beam us music from Earth. for though it is a wretched, dying planet, mankind is still capable of magic and beauty and music of the most extraordinary kinds. To answer your question, what we hear now is a band called Frankie Teardrop Dead. A new EP called ‘Tais-toi et Dance’ which, apparently, according to info we could extract, was recorded at the bands home in Manchester during the dystopian lockdown summer of 2020. “A summer of lies, corruption, division, paranoia and rebellion.”
“Wow! Sounds up my street!” I said, “in fact, I know Frankie Teardrop Dead so let me listen to this.”
And with this, I laid back on a crystal chair (more comfortable than it may sound) stoned out of my head, on Mars, with my eyes closed, and soaked up the new FTD music:
I’ve listened to the previous three Frankie Teardrop Dead albums, and though they definitely improved with each new record (all of them excellent, by the way), it felt they more or less stuck to their formula, a combination of all the best, classic elements of psychedelic music, such as, for instance, Brian Jonestown Massacre, Dandy Warhols etc. All done with a lot of talent and an ear for a catchy tune… so no complaints there!
But, it feels like ‘Tais-toi et Dance’ is a more “grown-up” release… not necessarily a curve ball, but certainly going on a different direction than their previous albums, and, for this reason, it’s more surprising than anything they’ve done so far.
The mood is dark, slow, contemplative, and, this time, driven by drum-machines. This is modern, chill-out psychedelia, rather than psychedelic rock. It was recorded during the pandemic lockdown and, well, it sounds like great lockdown music.
The EP opens with a lonely, pulsating bass-line that sounds groovy and also ominous, setting the tone for what’s to come. With it’s title, “I don’t know why” repeating over and over towards the end, the mood in indeed bleak, one of alienation. But, thankfully, alienation rarely sounded this… well, groovy.
Second track, “Hard Machine” was the lead single for this EP. It has a glam-like beat, and sounds almost like a collaboration between Anton Newcombe and Goldfrapp. Wouldn’t it be great? Well… this track is!
But the best is “Tais-Toi” itself. It’s sexy, hypnotic, and doesn’t seem to go anywhere - and all the better for it. They could’ve easily made this song three times as long! The song features a sample from Charlie Chaplin’s unforgettable final speech from The Great Dictator’, his 1940 warning against the perils of a fascist dictatorship. Frankie Teardrop Dead are well aware that we live in trouble times not unlike those Chaplin lived in. It’s a message worth listening to.
The EP ends with “How Are You?” which sounds positively dark, like a neo-goth, synth-driven funeral song: featuring sparse, slow drum-machine beat, what sounds like an ebow guitar on the second half, and another sample, of some old man replying philosophically to the question of how he is today.
All told, this is an excellent EP. Bleak and moody, for sure, but also an important creative departure for Frankie Teardrop Dead, which will suprise old fans and hopefully make new ones.
…and with this, my psychedelic bliss was over. I had barely finished listening to the EP when Gullick approached me and said:
“Dear traveller. I can hear your heart. You have dreams… you don’t belong to Phantasia yet.”
“Yes,” I replied, “it is my dream to reach California, in search of a vision… in San Pedro.”
“So, it shall be so” Gullick replied, and took me through a dark passage, in the sewers of mars, where, once again, I saw a glowing green light - another multi-dimensional portal, this time, back to Earth.”
And like a dream, I woke up from my bliss. On Earth. In San Pedro. And I still had a bag full of acid.
Yours truly,
Words: Captain Mad John Silver. Photos: RBY