A Woman In A Fiery State

Fancy a designer chromium-plated shiny, chromium and glass atom bomb of an LP? of course you do, that’s why I love you all. Sit down and grab a sliver of Secret Machines Now Here Is Nowhere.

I bought Now Here Is Nowhere in 2004 shortly after it was released* lured by the cover, gushing reviews all over the place mentioning krautrock from Texas and the fact that the first track was called ‘First Wave Intact’, which I thought cool.

As soon as I put it on and heard Josh Garza’s IMMENSE drumming on ‘First Wave Intact’ I knew this really was music for me. The track is 9 minutes of absolute shimmering sculptural paranoid intent, no choruses, just hammering progressions and, be still my heart, spacey synth noises. Floyd Zeppelin? in places, but with a beguiling lack of certainty no matter how assertive the music got. It’s a ripper.

By comparison ‘Sad And Lonely’ is constructed on a more human scale. I really like Brandon Curtis’ vocals, they are detached and lacking almost any empathy, despite the slightly over-dramatic lyrics and singing. The voice pokes through the bars of the rhythm, enticing/repulsing us in equal measure.

Whereas ‘The Leaves Are Gone’ gives us something akin to a post-apocalyptic serenade to Spring, the song sounds like it has been preserved long after the air and the leaves became distant cultural memories and is all the more poignant for it. Ladies and gentleman they are floating in space.

Things get all sexy on ‘Nowhere Again’, the air of imminent urgent doom and jeopardy being wafted along by the fanning of a raised skirt. It’s a brilliant, brilliant track and proof that Secret Machines are powered by flesh and blood, arteries and hearteries all, eat your heart out Strokes. ‘Nowhere Again’ is only just over 4 minutes long, but feels like it crams in at least double that into its priapic jostling, umm, length.

There's a woman in the mirror in a fiery state
She motions to me I start pulling away
She's lifting her dress up
All the way up

Due to damn fine sequencing ‘The Road Leads Where Its Led’ follows, with the Machines at their most motorik and artificial. A brisk bubbling ode to miscommunication and the fallout in the blast zone, ‘blowing all the other kids away‘.

Now Here Is Nowhere almost gets a torch song in the angsty ‘You Are Chains’, which builds via some atmospheric keys courtesy of Brandon Curtis, before settling on an almost baggy beat with a slightly disconcerting quality to it.

The shortest most direct cut here is ‘Lights On’ – it has a chorus and everything! Plus a good sense of aggro, mystery and menace. I really love the echoing drums and Benjamin Curtis’ guitar licking around the edges of things, like flames.

For a big finish Now Here Is Nowhere conjures up the hefty title track. We start gently, in slightly Spiritualized stoned-cold space territory, before we go all propulsive and bouncy interlaced with strafing guitar and drum explosions and back again … Crom alone knows what’s happening lyrically here, to be honest I’ve never really paid attention, I just like the big noises.

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Now Here Is Nowhere still sounds great 20 years out from release, it still sounds fresh and unlike anything else I’ve heard since I last listened to it. There is a rawness to Secret Machines’ debut that they refined away on later releases, which grab me a lot less.

A lot was made of this LP being ‘new prog’ or ‘new krautrock’ but the labels don’t really fit, despite the beats and the atmospheric-led tracks, mostly I think because of that explosive drumming and the emphasis Jeff Blenkinsopp’s production, rightly and righteously, puts on it.

A fancy designer chromium-plated shiny, chromium and glass atom bomb LP? yes please because Now Here Is Nowhere deserves to be everywhere.

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My copy of Now Here Is Nowhere is a clear-with-swirly-bits vinyl copy released in a limited edition of 1625 by Run Out Groove in 2017. To these tired old ears it sounds absolutely perfect, bright and clear and thunderously loud.

1236 Down.

*bought on CD to my eternal shame. I mention this only so that you, my loyal acolytes know that even I, the all-powerful 1537, was capable of error and sin. Once. It humanizes me, apparently.