A House For The Dead And A Porch For The Dying

The most distinctive and memorable thing about this release is Williams’ voice and lyrics.  Musically, the 3 songs hover around the periphery of industrial-tinged gothic rock.  Both “My first exposure to David E. Williams came in the venerable Soleilmoon catalog, comparing Williams to the likes of Douglas P (Death In June).  Now that I’ve heard Williams’ music, I can say that comparison is pretty accurate… if Douglas P were to pull that monkey out of his arse.

Like his other release, Hello Columbus, A House For The Dead And A Porch For The Dying is full of tales of misanthropy-as-love, twisted religious icons, and lyrical wit so sharp and pointed, you might get a papercut just opening the case.  And that’s all fine and dandy.  However, unlike, Hello Columbus, A House… is a full-length album of this stuff.

I like twisted lyrics and black humor as much as the next guy… which probably explains why I think the end of “A Boy And His Dog” is one of the most perversely genius moments in cinematic history.  But for all of his plays on words and clever rhymes, Williams seems to be too clever.  And I can only listen to so much of the album before becoming sick—not because of the rich decadence of Williams’ songwritings—but that it’s just laid on so thick.  After awhile, dark and twisted humor loses its punch and flavor and becomes, well, just dark and twisted.

I can only take so much of songs about dead mothers (“Shadowy Lesbian Photograph”), incest (“Widower”), and bitter lovesongs so vengeful as to be cruel (“In Sickness And In Sickness” and “Severed Hand Holding Daisies”).  After awhile, you just want to hear a sweet little lovesong where everything works out between the boy and girl, without him turning into a “Prince of Fiends” and her into a “prostitute who somewhat resembled a kidney.“

I liken it to a David Lynch film.  Lord knows they’re as bizarre and freakish as all get-out, but there’s always a few moments that get you grinning, that let you know there’s a cleverness going on.  And I catch glimpses of that on songs like “Little Sap And Varicose.“  And to his credit, as much as Williams writes about twisted (how many times have I used that word in this review), broken characters and the blasted world they inhabit, I don’t get the feeling that he’s doing so to be cruel or shocking, no matter how much his lyrics reflect that.  It almost seems comical, in a Mervyn Peake sort of way.  Still, I’m afraid to ask where Williams gets his inspiration.

As with Hello Columbus, if you’re of a sensitive disposition, you won’t like this album.  Trust me.  And even if you have a thick skin, some of the imagery is still quite, ah, disturbing.  Even musically, with Williams’ booming, drunken sailor vocals over heavy electronics, post-punk guitars, and a curious pop sense, it’s a bit much to take in.  If anything, I do enjoy the fact that even as his album is bound to labelled gothic, Williams skirts that genre in a way that’s much more lyrical and witty than the normal stereotypes associated with the genre.

I just wish I didn’t get a queasy stomach listening to the whole thing. Columbus” and “Listen Somewhat Awkward” range from harsh noise and programmed drums to intense synth dirges and piano melodies.  The oddball track, “Not A Gear At All” (which is the best track on here), sounds like what The Cure had hoped to accomplish on their disappointing “Wild Mood Swings,“ with it’s playfully melancholy keyboards and synth strings.

But like I said, it’s the voice and lyrics that really stick out in my mind.  Vocally, Williams sounds like an odd cross between Tom Waits, Nick Cave, and Brian Healy, if the three of them got drunk together and started singing on the bar.  His voice is often rough and slurred, but the rawness does add a certain impact that’s hard to ignore, and at times, seems quite at odds with the musical proceedings (especially on “Not A Gear At All”).

The images that Williams convey describe the typical sentiments of skewed love and broken relationships in often bizarre and groteseque imagery.  It’s been some time since I’ve heard lyrics that really stick with me, but it’s hard to forget lines like “your meal was manufactured just to stain my dish/socks hang from the shower rod like sad white fish” or “if I am Christlike in my magnaminity, will it be Magdelenean what she gives to me?“  Sometimes the lyrics are in danger of going to close to the dreaded “goth cliche,“ but Williams is always ready with some sort of verbal or poetic twist that’s as clever as it is disturbing.

Although sometimes Williams’ songwriting seems near-mysognistic on the surface, in actuality the songs reveal a sense of pathos and self-loathing that more than make up for any perceived sexism.  Even when he describes the worst kind of domination and control, the words and images he use reveal the pitiful nature of said activities.  Call it brilliant, call it wrong, but it will certainly cause listeners with a more delicate palate some pause.

With only 3 songs, this is probably not the best introduction you could get to Williams’ music.  However, if you’re really in need of music that combines equal elements of older goth and industrial, with a healthy dollop of blackened wit and humor, I’m hard-pressed to think of anything close to Williams.

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• Apr 7, 2001, 12:00am