Taking the mickey out of pop culture and music specifically is nothing new for Laibach. The Slovenian group, sometimes called an “art-pop” outfit, have been at it for 40-plus years. During that time, they’ve had their go at everything from Queen to the Beatles, Jesus Christ Superstar to The Sound of Music, “White Christmas” to “The Final Countdown”. Not everything they do is covers, but covers are what bring them the most attention.
In some ways, they are not much different from Weird Al Yankovic. Instead of using clever wordplay and goofy imagery, though, Laibach work their subversion through bombastic, Wagnerian arrangements, totalitarian (or is that anti-totalitarian?) imagery, and, mainly, Milan Fras’ vocals. Fras doesn’t sing. Instead, he speaks his lines in a guttural, deadpan croak. Think Star Wars’ Emperor Palpatine if he were a Muppet. It’s a fairly simple trope, but it’s an effective one which the band have gotten a lot of mileage out of.
On Laibach‘s new album, Musick, they don’t take on particular songs or artists. Instead, they take on pop music as a whole. At least that is the record’s point of entry. The last decade has provided plenty of craziness and bizarre turns of events that were ripe for the Laibach treatment. Trump, Covid, Me Too, Black Lives Matter, “late stage capitalism”: Musick gathers all of it up into one shiny, sticky ball, and coats it with an ironic, pop-colored gloss.
A primary talking point around the album is that veteran dancepop producer Richard X has been brought in to imbue a handful of tracks with the requisite beats, blips, and radio sheen. Even this move, though, is indicative of Laibach’s intentions. They didn’t want an up-and-coming, envelope-pushing producer for their “pop” album. They wanted someone whose sound is well-established, radio-friendly, and, dare I say, a bit passé; they want their listeners to know exactly what they are skewering. Not even the punning title is all that original; Public Enemy released Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age back in 1994.
The Richard X-produced tracks are fun, engaging pieces of electro-flavored dancepop in their own right. Big beats, orchestra hits, Vododers, and Auto-Tune abound on the opening trio of tracks and a couple of late-album numbers. The best of these is “Allgorhythm” (“all-go-rhythm”, get it??). Clearly, the target here is the earnest yet ironic synthpop of Pet Shop Boys. The track starts with an allusion to the Boys’ cover of the Village People‘s “Go West”. Hearing Fras say, “There’s a lot of talking / When Laibach drops a song” is genuinely funny, and from there the four-on-the-floor rhythm and stuttering vocal samples take over.
Other attempts at subversion are as glaring as strobe lights. The thunderous title track starts as a paean to, that’s right, music. After lauding it as “the key…the answer” and “the food of love”, Fras stops and declares, “I’m sick of music”. “Love Machine” is a takeoff on Kraftwerk’s “The Man-Machine”, where the titular phrase eventually gives way to Fras exclaiming “War Machine!” Ultimately, the extent to which you appreciate Musick comes down to just how edgy you think it is to declare “Every tune’s a copy or remake” in a song that itself copies the melody from Eine kleine Nachtmusik.
The songs that Richard X is not involved with are genre exercises that mostly fall flat. The Spanish language track, the hardcore track, and the spaghetti western pastiche may satisfy Laibach’s fanbase, but they also suggest maybe the Richard X hire wasn’t so ironic, after all.
Actually, Musick isn’t the first time Laibach have dabbled in technopop. Their decades-old disco take on “Sympathy for the Devil” (inevitably called the “Who Killed the Kennedys Mix”), replete with samples from Stones documentaries, is brilliant. Danceable, cheeky, and chilling, it’s everything Musick aspires to be but isn’t quite. As for Musick, it has its moments, but ultimately it’s a reminder that there is plenty of good pop music that skewers itself without being so belabored about it.