So much of what was called industrial music in the 1980s and 1990s neither exemplified industriousness nor took advantage of the tools of industry. It was hard rock with less guitar and more keyboard-driven heavy beats and tinny tapping and none of it had the best thing that true industry had to offer: found sound.
Yes, nature has lots of found sound, the universe's unintentional music: melodious bird calls, the cow's moo, the eagle's cry to paralyze its prey … the lapping of a stream, the roar of the ocean, the hissing patter of a steady rain. But where's the challenge in finding a use for this stuff? Everybody likes nature.
Much more interesting was work by Einsturzende Neubauten, whose 1993 album Tabula Rasa made for difficult, but rewarding listening for a teenager (me) raised on British pop rock and musical scores. The predictability of sounds and songs was turned on its head by the deliberately obtuse Germans, who made not just songs replete with human breathing, truly terrifying human screams and human croaks, but the voices of tapped metal, machine tools and cranking machinery. That's what industry has to offer music, the unintentional rhythms of a factory's churning. It's the same thing that makes nature beautiful: Out of useful things, like a bird's call marking its territory, comes an aesthetically pleasant sound. Humans can do it, too, with a factory's machine tools, whirring thumping, making objects. Einsturzende put it to use in the making of aesthetically fascinating music. Using sounds that aren't as usually recognized as beautiful, Einsturzende challenged listeners to appreciate what metal and electricity had to offer the music world outside of electric guitars and Hammond organs.
Einsturzende has continued its trend of crafting its sounds and aesthetic into listenable music. Yes, songs on Perpetuum Mobile like the title track and "Grundstuck" use tapped pipes and air compressors, but the long droning notes of background for a foreground of noise have given way to more prominent melodies and notes on keyboard and strings. The German lyrics to the songs have also been translated, perfect for those of us who don't know the language but want to know what these strange gentlemen are singing.
For those excited by the man-and-machine explorations that power Radiohead's sad, hopeless OK Computer and Grandaddy's The Sophtware Slump, observe this tidbit from a song with English lyrics on the album:
"No more tassels on the hotel key
a phone-line, a laptop
and a box of tangerines
They turn houses into homes
where earthquakes live with car alarms
mature mild-mannered catastrophes … "
Einsturzende fans should enjoy this latest installment in the band's music adventures. Those unfamiliar with the band should consider this a good starting point, a high point for older musicians who, having played with grinding and screaming metal for so long, have found out where it can hold hands with regular songcraft.