Talk Talk started life as an English synth-pop band in the 80s, following in the shadow of Duran Duran. However, by the later years of the decade, frontman Mark Hollis began to experiment with much more expansive and unusual sounds for a band of Talk Talk’s stature. He presented his record label with the album Spirit Of Eden in 1988, which was promptly declared “not commercially viable”, despite being a critical success. Talk Talk would never play another live show again. Extracting themselves from their record deal, they signed a new one with Polydor, releasing Laughing Stock in 1991. The band quickly dissolved following its release. Hollis would release one solo album before retiring from music. However, his music, particularly the minimal, experimental sounds on Laughing Stock, would go on to influence a whole mob of musicians (Mogwai, Sigur Ros, Godspeed You! Black Emperor), rather moronically named “post-rock” by the music press. Laughing Stock has retroactively garnered a great deal of attention, as listeners celebrate it’s dark atmosphere and stark minimalism.“Myrrhman”
Fifteen seconds of distant, almost inaudible sounds are finally broken by a shattered guitar strum. This is a telling hint at the kind of music that’s to come. Slow and unafraid to take as much time as it needs, Laughing Stock is not the kind of album you can casually listen to. It requires a certain level of immersion. “Myrrhman” grabs you quickly, though, with its spectral combination of guitar, piano, trumpet, stand-up bass and skittering percussion. Hollis’ lyrics are always abstract, but here, he captures a handful of images that reinforce the desolate, lonesome tone of the music. “Place my chair at the backroom door,” he moans, “help me up, I can’t wait anymore.” The songs final moments feature a crying violin melody, ushering us into the next song.
“Ascension Day”
With its strong, jazzy drumming and snaking guitar riff, we know “Ascension Day” is going to be a more up-tempo affair. Sure enough, about forty-five seconds into the song, a crashing guitar riff charges through, playing counter to the rhythm. These dynamics keep shifting back and forth, with the verses dominated by strong drums and church-flavored organ fills, before the staccato slashes of guitar signal shifts to the chorus. Again, Hollis’ words are barely intelligible, with only choice phrases, like the solemn “farewell” sticking out. The song kicks into a higher gear for the long closing instrumental passage, with Hollis working his guitar into a frenzy before the song is suddenly cut short.
“After The Flood”
The jarring silence following “Ascension Day” leads into the subtle piano intro for “After The Flood”. With more church-style organ added to the mix, the song starts building momentum, built around an otherworldly whistling sound. More jazz drums are added, before Hollis’ slurred voice fades into the mix. Sounds of water running rush through. A chorus of “shake my head, turn my face to the floor” soars above the organ. All in all, it sounds vaguely religious, until a cacophonous chunk of guitar feedback is dropped directly in the middle of everything. Slowly, the song begins to recede, with various pieces fading away before the entire song fades off into silence, carried out to the ocean on a flood of organ. All we’re left with is an ominous, low guitar riff leading into “Taphead”.
“Taphead”
There’s a lot of confusion about Mark Hollis and heroin. Much has been propagated about his supposed drug use towards the end of Talk Talk’s career. Songs like “Taphead” may sound like compelling evidence, with lyrics like “climb through needle’s neck”, but Hollis has adamantly denied ever using heroin. The source of the confusion seems to come from a book that was published, which claimed Hollis struggled with drugs during the Spirit Of Eden sessions. He promptly sued them for libel. However, drug addiction or no drug addiction, “Taphead” is a harrowing track, pushing the minimalist envelope with little more than a quiet, insistent guitar riff and lots of atonal trumpets. It may not be about Hollis’ own drug addiction, but it definitely sounds like its being told by someone who’s been pushed to the edge.
“New Grass”
More jazz drums, before a surprisingly sunny guitar riff pierces the murkiness left behind by “Taphead”. Another song littered with religious references (“lifted up”, “sacraments”, “Christendom”), “New Grass” may sound more positive, but Hollis still sings with a heart-wrenching level of fragility in his voice. The song ebbs and flows, eventually leaving only those drums, before a simple, descending piano line joins them. Violins are added back in, adding staccato bursts of grating noise. The whole thing flows through this process one more time, before it fades off into the distance.
“Runeii”
A skeletal guitar riff opens the final song on Laughing Stock, which dispenses with some of the expansiveness found elsewhere on the album, in favor of a simply closing prayer to send the listener on his or her way. Except, instead of being calm and uplifting, this final song has a certain unsettling atmosphere to it. With lyrics like “well aren’t you success” and Hollis’ gloriously drawn-out “rescinded”, the song feels more like an accusation than a prayer. It’s also the only song on the album where those dependable jazz drums don’t make an appearance. The listener is left with a haunting, lonely feeling, as the spectral music finally gives way to a final silence.
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