Revenge - NME "One True Passion" Review 02 June 1990

NME - HOBBY WHORES

REVENGE
One True Passion (Factory LP/Cassette/CD)

THOSE OF us no longer eligible for a Young Person's Railcard tend to regard the words 'solo project' with a suspicion bordering on downright fear. Once upon a time every major band would reach that stage in their careers when it was deemed necessary to 'take five' and 'do their own thing'. Invariably this meant that the keyboard player would produce some dire suite based around The Hobbit, the singer would produce some tortured confessional about his divorce and the drummer would reveal a hitherto unknown fondness for reggae.

That was then but this is now. Still, with the best will in the world and the strongest belief that Revenge are a bona fide band in their own right, there are bound to be legions of doubters to whom 'One True Passion' is no more than Peter Hook’s equivalent of DIY or embroidery; a diverting hobby. If so, who cares? The debut LP by Revenge contains no surprise in the vein of string quartets or concept pieces about Stonehenge but is, nonetheless an excellent record. A sterling piece of post-House techno rock covering all bases from 'nasty' to 'cute'.

The first time I listened to this record I was monumentally drunk. Consequently, on first hearing I reckoned this to be a something akin to the voice of God. It has several features to recommend it to the smashed person; great squalls of treated guitar, thunderous, mechanistic rhythms and imposing slabs of pure sound. It was obvious even at this early stage that if I didn’t watch my step, my response was going to be of the 'sonic cathedrals' variety. By now, of course, I’ve had time to sober up but 'One True Passion' still sounds terrific.

Inevitably, it sounds quite a lot like New Order, but with certain telling differences. The mood is darker - sinister even in parts - and the songs steer a course closer to rock than New Order have done for some time. Similarly, the dislocated frailty of Barney's vocals is replaced by Hooky’s deeper, more menacing tones. If only every LP began with something as arresting as 'Pineapple Face' with its string cascades and irresistible mantra ( "Peace . . . In peace . . . Always live in peace"). There’s almost too much going on, which is never a bad sign, as all manner of frighteningly expensive digital effects whizz through your head at high speed. I also find it hard to dislike a song that ends with a liberal quote from Abba‘s 'SOS'.

'Big Bang' begins in a wispy fog of ambient bleeps and shapes up to have a fairly corking tune. In a world-weary, winsome chorus, Peter tells us that he’s interested in "The shining path of sin" which makes this one of the few pop songs to mention a Peruvian Maoist guerrilla organisation. 'Kiss The Chrome' is the only track where the title bears any relevance to the song. What they’re on about is unclear but kissing the chrome seems to be some oblique metaphor for degradation. Or it’s about motorcycle enthusiasts.

'Slave' and 'Bleachman' are the album’s weakest moments, suffering as they do from a mild temptation to 'rock out'. 'Slave' has some quite attractive grunge guitars but 'Bleachman' is too contrived in its nastiness, containing dodgy phone call extracts and daft lines like "I killed a man with a knife/Kept it pure and simple for his kids and his wife."

The home straight, however, is top. 'Surf Nazi' and 'Fag Hag' are as warm and rich as their titles are thin-lipped and spotty. The latter even ends in a guitar jangle that suggests a cybernetic Orange Juice. 'It’s Quiet' could be Bob Dylan or, failing that, Lloyd Cole for the first few bars and brings 'One True Passion' to an atypically tranquil end.

So what does it all mean? Not a clue, mate. Whether Revenge are a meaningful relationship or ‘a bit on the side’ remains uncertain but really that’s rather missing the point. Give or take a few self-indulgences and a bit of forced solemnity, this is a gleaming racket of a modern pop record. Drunk or sober. It does the trick. And what could have been an embarrassing scam turns out to be an unexpected pleasure. If this is Hooky’s hobby, then it certainly beats passing round the holiday snaps. (8)

Stuart Maconie