John Foxx – Metamatic (3CD box set)

Disc 3 – Rarities

(2018, Metal Beat)

The third disc in the collection is the sonic equivalent of an attic clear-out: anything contemporaneous from the period around Metamatic that hasn’t already been committed to disc goes here.

There’s a fair number of instrumentals on offer, which often feel like audio notes regarding certain moods or sonic backdrops to be used elsewhere, and in some cases hinting at future ambient works. The disc finishes up with a handful of previously-rare demos made for the original album.

THE MUSIC

The overall quixotic feel of the disc is established almost immediately with the first two tracks. The curtain rises on “A Frozen Moment” — about a minute-and-a-half of beepy-boopy synth effects, a sonic notebook of wayward sounds that would later on find homes. Here, it serves as a scene-setting appetizer for the glorious steak that is track two, “He’s a Liquid (Instrumental Dub Version).”

It’s kind of hard to imagine a John Foxx karaoke event, but here’s your chance to try your hand at it. This version includes more of the echoey whistling of the original that, with the vocals not present, somehow adds a creepier effect to this already cold-wave classic.

“Mr No (Alternative Version”) is a similar but more basic version of the track we hear on Disc 2 of this set. Like some of the additional “Early Versions” we’ll hear later on this disc (and a few of the “Alternative Versions” we heard on the last one), this feels like a demo done on Foxx’s own equipment. That said, it follows the more polished official version that eventually made it as far as being a b-side pretty closely.

We now come to a section of songs not heard on any of the previous Metamatic reissues. These are some leftover sound beds, backgrounds, tone experiments and other bits of recorded emphemera, mostly without rhythm but with a sense of chasing down a set of beautiful and/or evocative synth sounds — a kind of sonic notebook that he thought might come in handy later.

We start with “The Uranium Committee.” The usual low-hum drone runs for a bit, then a cycling higher-hum wipe. This fades slowly out at the two-minute mark. It’s more like a backing sound set in search of a melody.

“A Man Alone,” however is more of a proper instrumental with a melody line, but is still mostly just synth noodling that seems to be an experiment in what sounds blend well together. This is Foxx experimenting with setting a mood before adding the beat that would drive something like this.

R2-D2 and the accompanying dark sci-fi vibe return in the aptly-titled “Terminal Zone.” This in particular would have made for some great soundtrack music in some then-future Doctor Who episode. Likewise, the fragment “Urban Code” is another mood piece of sinister machinery.

The mood lightens considerably with the melodic “A Version of You,” hinting at the romantic overtones that first showed up in the early “Like a Miracle” heard on Disc 2.

Speaking of that previous disc, we get to a proper full (albeit instrumental) song in the “Alternative Version” of “Glimmer.” The “official” version is the better of the two in my view, but both are very similar.

A synth wash drapes around the mostly-untreated piano of “Fragmentary City,” another of Foxx’s solid dreamscape soundtracks.

“Metamorphosis” is mostly some SynthFarts™ but also sounds like an early experiment with what would later become the “metal beat” sound. Listening to experimental tracks like this now, it’s helpful to recall that synths around this time had to be painstakingly hand-tweaked to produce sounds other than the pre-programmed ones.

These little recorded “workshops” are how Foxx arrived at many of the amazing sounds that finally graced the album proper, and drawings in his notebook would suggest that illustrations of the synth settings for easy re-creation were made when he was happy with what he heard.

“Approaching the Monument” is another soundscape, vaguely sound like a motorcycle revving against a backdrop of ambient low noise. It constantly threatens to turn into a further set of sounds, but never does.

The best collection of these synth experiments comes in the form of “Critical Mass,” which captures a number of key sounds — and even has some percussion! — that would later to be used to augment the songs on Metamatic.

This whole section of nerdy noodling will probably not be of interest even to most Foxx fans, but is the background research, if you will, that made the album what it became musically.

We end this section with the whimsically-titled “Alamogordo Logic,” a shorter compilation of potential synth settings.

To finish up the disc, we return to some actual pieces of music. The “Early Version” of “Touch and Go” kicks things off, in a faster but otherwise nearly-complete demo version of the song.

Foxx then moves into an almost House-like beat paired with a semi-succcessful vocal in “Miss Machinery,” a song where the vocals don’t quite work and doesn’t appear to have been developed further — despite an interesting melody — but has the great phrase “let me introduce my army.” With a bit more work, this could have made a decent b-side. It’s bursting with potential but just didn’t quite gel.

The last track is the “Early Version” demo of “No-One Driving,” remastered specifically for the White Vinyl and this version of the expanded Metamatic album.

This take is pretty awesome too, with a different opening sequence and no handclaps, some “ghost vocals” but otherwise very similar to what became the finished vocals, and exactly the same lyrics. It is, if you’ll pardon the pun, a real “high note” to end the box set on, and reminds listeners why they are fans of Foxx in the first place.

THE POSTSCRIPT

If you’ve been obsessed with the original album since it came out half a lifetime ago (!), you will want to own this box set, even the more experimental Disc 3. If you’re a more casual fan who enjoyed Metamatic but may have another Foxx solo album as your favourite, the 2007 Edsel 2CD reissue will probably tide you over very well — it has many but not quite all of the highlights found here.

If you really need all the “Alternative” and “Early” versions, though, and are willing to slog through some unfinished bits, you will want this much-superior 3CD version from 2018. The CD scores over any previous vinyl version (even if you prefer the latter format over the former) by way of the art cards, silvertone booklet, and the possibility of the autographed card.

Next time: The Neasden Queen of Soul!

John Foxx – Metamatic (3CD box set)

Disc 1 — Metamatic (original album)
(Metal Beat, 2018)

THE PRELUDE

As we begin our tale, Ultravox! (as it was then known) was at a crossroads. Their leader, John Foxx, had departed (along with guitarist Robin Simon) over creative disagreements after three critically-acclaimed but not great-selling albums. Foxx was determined to carry on as a solo act, bringing his unique voice and poetic vision, unerring pop sensibilities, and recent obsession with synthesizers/electronic music with him. He left behind a set of highly talented musicians, leaving only “Mr.X” (oh yes he did!) as a parting gift to remind fans of future Ultravox (no “!” anymore) that it was John Foxx who led them down the path that led to that highly-successful reinvention.

Foxx’s first solo outing emerged in the same year as the now Midge Ure-led Ultravox masterpiece Vienna, with Metamatic hitting the bins three months before. Foxx on his own (with a little help from some friends) and Ure’s reconfigured Ultravox both turned out years of splendid records spanning the 80s — Ultravox arguably the more commercial (but excellent), Foxx the more esoteric (but excellent), and both taking maximum advantage of the wealth of new sounds not heard before in popular music, albeit in somewhat different ways.

Arguably, Foxx’s debut solo album is the more brilliant of the two competing albums — not just because Foxx (almost) single-handedly invented the “Cold Wave” sub-genre of synthpop, but his interesting use of what I’ll call “disharmonies” mixed in amongst the fragmentary and dream-like lyrics alongside flawlessly catchy melodies and memorable poetry. All this, even before we get to the fact that he essentially put this album together by himself.*

*okay, he had Jake Durant on additional bass and John Barker on additional synths, but it was essentially a true solo project.

It’s hard to express the power and delight that Metamatic generated on original release in May of 1980. The completely alien concept of entirely electronic music I had first heard with Wendy Carlos’ Switched-On Bach and Kraftwerk’s Autobahn as a youngster — which strayed so far outside the mainstream of music and yet was so mesmerising — had blossomed into my passionate embrace of out-of-the-ordinary modern with this and Vienna into a proper musical obsession, and opened wide for the tidal wave (inside joke, that) of synth music that was to follow.

Until I heard Kraftwerk, I was largely comfortable with mainstream radio and the music it played, but only passively. Punk kicked open the door and forced me to understand and identify with other kinds of “rock” music, and subsequently I explored and loved a number of sub-genres, especially punk, ska, electronic, synthpop, New Romantic, and of course the bigger tent we called New Wave.

Nowadays, all that kind of thing has a couple of handy catch-all names — “alternative” and “post-punk” — but at the time it was like having a hurricane descend on you, tear up everything you thought you knew about music, and reassemble it in new and fascinating ways. Post 1975, we definitely weren’t in Kansas anymore.

THE BOX

Even there are only three discs in this box set, it comes in the same kind of expanded CD box made of laminated cardboard, with each album in its own cardboard sleeve with the original art (cleaned up a bit).

In 2014, a remastered version of the album (and a disc similar to what’s on Disc 2 here) was issued, but only on vinyl as a Record Store Day bonus. I was very disappointed that it hadn’t also come out on CD at the time, and consequently didn’t buy it.

Thankfully, four years later this CD version arrived, and far better packaged on top of being preserved in a superior format. Good things come to those who wait, as they say.

In my copy, the first item one sees on opening is an art card printed in silver ink with an alternate version of the cover photo and the “Metal Beat” logo. This is followed by the booklet, again printed in silver tone so it is bloody hard to read unless you have the light just right, but the only text is the lyrics from the album and some credits for the box set.

The cover of the booklet might be the most “human-like” item in this set: the cover, and a couple of other pages scattered throughout, depict handwritten lyrics straight from Foxx’s notebook — in printed handwriting. There are also some photos, synth charts, and other remnants.

(photo by and courtesy of the Post-Punk Monk)

This is followed by four more silvertone art prints, each on separate cards. These include a screen version of one of the single sleeves, a couple of paintings (presumably by the talented Mr Foxx), and another alternate take from the original photo shoot for the album cover.

Moving on from that is the silvertone sleeve for the album itself, unadorned with type or a border as it was on the original vinyl release (and the cover of this box set). The two other disc sleeves are also printed in silvertone, but look like the covers used for the master tapes (apparently the album was recorded at Pathway Studios in London).

(photo by and courtesy of the Post-Punk Monk)

For the first 750 pre-orders, a special fifth art card was included underneath the CD sleeves — revealing the synth button and level settings for “Underpass,” and signed by the great man himself. Rather than a Wonka-like “golden ticket,” this one is most definitely silver — but for fans who live outside the UK in particular, it is a very precious gift.

THE MUSIC

The original album consisted of the 10 tracks on the first disc of this box set — “Plaza” through “Touch and Go.” As far as I can tell, all the tracks are the 2014 remastered versions as mastered by Joe Caithness, regrettably getting awfully close (but “never quite touching”) to brickwalled. I don’t currently have access to a copy of my original CD or vinyl versions, but the separation and clarity are quite good on these new digital versions, as you’d expect. It’s a definite improvement on the original vinyl version.

Rather than go through song-by-song, I invite anyone reading this who never heard this album to put it on via streaming or whatever means at your disposal, and marvel at this artifact seemingly fallen from the far future that retains its timeless sound. Even if you’re familiar with Ultravox and other synth-based bands, you’ve never heard anything like this: warm singing backed with his off-kilter cold persona; acid-trip level visual lyrics describing dreams and alternate realities like a mysterious narrator who walks between worlds; oddly warm melodies with dissonant harmonies; music that really takes you to a very different place, and yet is accessible to the open mind.

Foxx is the master or marrying “cold” synths with romantic visions in a world of machines, but in a detached voice — like a robot describing your dreams. Listening carefully, his self-harmonizing is unlike anything anyone else could do easily, and yet so many of the tracks are memorable and … “catchy” isn’t quite the right word, but “perfectly crafted” will have to do.

His lyrics effortlessly paint pictures of those futuristic worldviews we never achieved, the kind of utopia/dystopia where personal hovercraft fly around the city while mystery and malice lurk just beneath the surface.

Here’s a few sample lyrics to get you into the mindset you’ll need to navigate this frozen paradise:

On the Plaza We’re dancing slowly lit like photographs Across the Plaza Toward the shadow of the cenotaph
— “Plaza”

Well I used to remember Now it’s all gone World War something We were somebody’s sons
— “Underpass”

The family’s back from long ago The voices burnt, the voices gold Vapour trails go by Voices on the lines Nothing to come back to, can’t we fade?
— “No-One Driving”

We’re fixing distances on maps And echo paths in crowds The light from other windows Falls across me now A blurred girl
— “A Blurred Girl”

It’s not just the sound of the future, he transports you to that future.

My favourites on the album are the most driving and/or urgent of the songs, so “Underpass” (the big hit single), “Metal Beat,” “No-One Driving,” “A New Kind of Man,” and “Touch and Go.” The second-tier songs (for me) are still excellent: album opener “Plaza,” “He’s a Liquid,” and the most romantic of the selections here, “Blurred Girl.”

The lesser songs (in my view) number only two: “030” and “Tidal Wave,” there to try something even more mechanical-sounding, but they feel underdeveloped as musical ideas.

There was absolutely nothing quite like this in popular music in 1980 … even Ultravox took a markedly different (and smoother) path. The metallic sound with the mostly-cold and dry-ice lyric delivery accompanied angular self-dueting vocals … even Gary Numan’s Replicas reinvention, brilliant as it was, paled in comparison.

When this 3CD box version came out in 2018, my dear friend The Post-Punk Monk reviewed it in a series of posts, with me commenting from the peanut gallery. At the time I called it the best album I’d heard that year (meaning 1980, and there was some stiff competition that year!) and the expanded version was the best purchase of the year.

Six years later, Metamatic is seriously one of my favourite hard-core-electronic albums ever.

When the Monk summed up the sound as “Kraftwerk Reggae,” a bomb of comprehension went off in my head. In addition to the unconventional sound and singing, there was so much space sonically on this record! You can find the Monk’s nine-part review of the album here, and it’s highly recommended.

The first two singles from the album got into the top 40, but didn’t go much beyond that. The initial single was by far the strongest choice, “Underpass” (or “Underpants!” as I still call it to this day, giggling). The follow-up single was a logical choice as well: “No-One Driving,” a true Ballardian panic attack of isolation and nightmarish nihilism.

“A New Kind of Man” was pressed for a third single, but never officially came out — it may have been judged a bit too discordant, or perhaps just too similar to the fever pitch of “No-One Driving.”

Next up: the B-sides, the single versions, extended mixes and alternative versions!