by Ziggy Merritt
My experience with the Legendary Pink Dots has always been one of cautious curiosity. For years the only artifact that signified their existence was a shirt my brother would occasionally wear. Years after that, while I was still somewhere deep in the miserable trenches of high school, I heard their 1990 album, Crushed Velvet Apocalypse in his apartment. I didn’t know what to make of it and by all accounts I still have no clue.
Formed by Edward Ka-Spel in 1980, LPD survives today as the very definition of avant-garde music. That label takes on a bit of provocative meaning whenever it comes into play as most would just as soon write off the notion of avant-garde as pretentious. In most instances I would agree with that sentiment especially considering the very title of this particular album vomits up images of tacky 80s tuxedos and prom dresses. Despite this, Crushed Velvet Apocalypse can easily be said to be one of LPD’s most cohesive and imaginative albums.
One of the few rare acoustic tracks from their over 40+ studio album discography exists here in the form of Apocalypse’s opener, “I Love You in Your Tragic Beauty.” Joined by the occasional introduction of the accordion, the track sets off a tragic tone that ventures slowly into the realm of chamber music toward the end. From here the tone of the album oscillates wildly from the percussive Indian instrumentation on “Green Gang” to the demented nursery rhyme of “Hellsville.” Uneven as the tone might be, the cohesiveness comes in the form of Ka-Spel’s lyricism which ventures often into the realm of fables and fairy-tales for this release. “Just a Lifetime” and “Princess Coldheart” are two of the most intelligible indications of this predilection with the former taking its place as the magnum opus of Apocalypse.
Spending its time in a wicked sort of sepulchral beauty, “Just a Lifetime” begins with the repeated phrase of a harpsichord balanced against the rhythmic thump of the drums. Appropriately it’s the track that is mostly played out in the style of an apocalypse with lyrics featuring mad dogs, fire-eaters, and the return of dragons upon the Earth. Meanwhile, “Princess Coldheart” is the one suspiciously innocent track of the bunch and decked out to the nines in medieval fanfare. It’s not as cleverly paced as “Just a Lifetime” but keeps things in shape before the final stretch of the album.
And quite a stretch it is. The last three tracks are all but unlistenable, none more so than “The Pleasure Palace.” This unpleasantness grows only more bloated and pompous across its great eight minute run-time with a sound that could only be described as what I imagine might happen if the band, Gwar battled the London Philharmonic for dominion over time and space. Even with this unpleasantness in mind, Crushed Velvet Apocalypse stands out as one of the more interesting compositions you’ll come across if you have the guts for it.
