I wanted to focus on Martin Hannett after Lee Perry, because they might seem like complete opposites. Perry, in a way, throwing everything open to chance, the mistake is king, while Hannett famously had to have complete control over each individual sound. Despite the odds of their methods the music they produced is somehow related, as if Hannett`s were the sharp black and white negative and Perry`s the saturated Technicolor print. Both producers defined by their use of space. Perry`s submerged soft Psychedelia in part a result of the economy of reused tape. Hannett`s “something annoying in the mid-range” unique and exact to whatever noise he had in his head. The usual interference between band members playing live made alien. The bleed of each instrument determined, not by acoustics, nor God, but by Hannett.
Dry skeletal Funk. Guitars like the itch you cannot scratch. Music full of dark self-loathing. Humanity, a howl trapped within a machine. These things resonate in bands as disparate as the Pop Group, Gang Of Four, Echo & The Bunnymen, and define how Post-Punk in the main would be remembered. The Scroggins girls made switchblade-wielding vamps. John Cooper-Clarke injects the humour. Steve Hopkins` piano, the ripples of a post-nod dream. Perversely, only “Atmosphere” feels like a celebration.
Big thank you to Matt Best for the loan of the “Aspects” flexi