What the fuck is it with Placebo? Their even-numbered LPs bristle with heart-wrenching anthems, songs that make you want to laugh and cry and explode in a starburst-supernova and punch the air, roaring like a burning creature.
But the odd-numbered ones? Fuck.
Ignoring the first LP, ‘Black Market Music’ had a couple of good songs, but also featured attempts at rapping. ‘Meds’ sounded like a band of placebo fans, trying to make an album that sounded like their heroes. Of the songs, ‘Meds’ was great, as was ‘Infra-red’ and ‘Follow the cops back home’ wasn’t bad. But the rest of it? A fucking duet with Michael fucking Stipe??? Come, come, my good man!
Contrast and compare with the first LP, ‘Without you, I’m nothing’, the mighty ‘Sleeping with ghosts’ and the astounding ‘Battle for the sun’… Every one of these is still a regular dancefloor-filler, here at scat-candy acres.
I usually download any new LP from Placebo. Where it’s a ‘Sleeping with ghosts’ or a ‘Battle for the sun’, I’m along at my local pop-emporium, foaming at the mouth, banging a big bag of coins on the counter and and shreiking, “Innkeep! The new Placebo, if you bastard well please!” And brandishing my warhammer in the fucker’s face. Same as everybody else in the shop.
‘Loud like love’ isn’t a slap-in-the-face like ‘Meds’ was, but it sure as hell isn’t ‘Sleeping with Ghosts’ or ‘Battle for the sun’.
That said, it *is* growing on me. Like a cheeky wee tumour.
They’re not going to pick up any floating voters with this one. It’s a poverty-packaged product. If we lived in the same universe as ‘Repo man’ took place, it would come in a plain white cover with ‘Placebo CD’ printed on the front in pale blue.
Why not read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)
A love story – on home-made acid – narrated by someone first used romatically, then set on fire, by the blue peter team, capering around the pyre like wrinkled vikings.