Merchandise – Children of Desire Merchandise – Children of Desire

It’s all glum, chum. I don’t know what you’re on about. Had you kept your dreary new/now/next-wave druthers about you through all the tired years of being kicked around as a “faggot,” “freak,” etc. perhaps you might finally be landing that sweet shaved pussy with the Psychick Cross labial tattoo you always lapped at in your nouveaux rêves primitifs.

But you didn’t, did you?

You got a job. You cut your Thirwell hair. You shoved your duct-taped Docs into a closet (or if you were sensibly vested in a relationship [as happens to us graying weirdos from time to time] you threw them away to make space for…um…is that her bong?) and pretended not to cream your jeans when you read somewhere that The Cure were playing their first three records (FAITH, DUDE! FAITH!) at Radio City Music Hall because you were finally well enough on your way to being a fully functional human being (no more secret cutting, darling…it’s time to Klonopin like a real man) that you could actually afford the scalper’s seats.

But guess what, asshole? Our time is now. The doom and the gloom and the synthetic pop cheerless that kept you alive (or half dead, depending on who knew you then) through the late 70s or 80s or early 90s or whenever you had the particular misfortune to come into your own particular brand of Proustian drag is back in a way I don’t think any of us could have imagined.

Just listen to Merchandise.

Though they’re nowhere near the forefront of this new dour movement (and I honestly don’t care to swim through all the squid ink to figure out who is so I’ll just go ahead and blame Silver Lake) their new release Children of Desire might well be the perfect fucking testament to why you started smoking cloves in the first place.

Or is it droll?

With Merchandise, I honestly don’t know but being confused about D. Vassalotti’s motivations (having spent time listening to Cult Ritual, Neon Blud, Church Whips and Dads [let’s not even touch on the caustic missives of Cult Maternal] is enough to raise my well-manicured sense of cultural distrust) for turning Merchandise’s murky new wave salvos into a clarion call for a sexy ankle gazing, half-sleepy reinvigoration of the hidden love in Jazz Butcher songs only Watts knew how to dance to isn’t enough to keep me from swooning to this record through pack after pack of hand-rolled cigarettes imagining that I am a tortured young mechanic who is secretly an artist and am played by young Eric Stoltz with Elias Koteas as my hypersensitive skinhead friend who I would’ve married in detention if times were different and there wasn’t you and we’re all beautiful on the wrong side of the tracks if you only got to know us which you would if you let John Hughes into your heart and listened to that mix tape I made you.

1. Thin Air
2. Time
3. Become What You Are
4. In Nightmare Room
5. Satellite
6. Roser Park

Merchandise - Children of Desire, reviewed by Charles on 2012-05-10T10:09:21-07:00 rating 3.9 out of 5

3 Responses about “Merchandise – Children of Desire”

  • Charles says:

    Incidentally, this record is available for FREE via mediafire thanks to the good folks at Katorga Works - Vinyl’s always nicer though.

  • Sorry i was on a different wavelength. The one where the air was filled with Aphex Twin and Nine Inch Nail’s remix records. I collected all of HALO releases…well at least up until 11. Did you see the video for “A Perfect Drug?” Its trippy. We should drink absinthe when we get older. I still think we could meet at a diner and smoke cloves over coffee and half informed discussions on Nietzsche. God is dead Charles. Do not ask me what that means. Its only a quote that is written on my binder.

  • Charles says:

    Ah, HALO. I remember them well. In college, we all sat around drunk on jug wine and watched the “Broken” video. I miss Bob Flanagan, not so much the German.