The LTM label seems to have dedicated itself to reissuing work by Factory Records bands of the early 1980s who never quite became the next New Order, Joy Division, or Happy Mondays. So far, they have heroically compiled full CDs for bands who might only have had only one 7" on Factory, or whose work might have been overshadowed by the dominating mythos of that label or of producer Martin Hannett. Lately, LTM has exhumed a band who were one of Factory's strangest signings, a Dutch trio called Minny Pops. These two CDs comprise the group's second LP, 'Sparks in a Dark Room' (here coupled with contemporaneous 7" and demo material) and 'Secret Stories,' which is a collection of more 7" singles, demos, and excerpts from their third and fourth albums.
The question now is, since collectors have been clammoring for these
records for so long, have they actually been worth the wait? I'd say
so, but with some reservation. Minny Pops' yet-to-be-reissued debut
album, "Drastic Measures, Drastic Movements" from 1979, was a bizarre
mix of noise, new wave, synth pop, and Yello-like cabaret goofiness. It
is one of the most genuinely tweaked documents of DIY electro-pop, a
record which to this day causes heads to be scratched in satisfying
bewilderment. As the group's members aquired careers as record label
executives (at Boudisque, Play it Again Sam, etc), the music that they
produced became more accessible, the noise nearly vanished, and
recognizable industrial-funk genre trappings emerged. If you're aware
of the music happening in Belgium in the early 1980s (particularly
Siglo XX, the Neon Judgement, and A Blaze Colour) then the gloomy
monotone grooves of 'Sparks in a Dark Room' will immediately sound
familiar. But there's something different here; on 'Sparks,' there
exists an implacable note of self-awareness and humor which seperates
the album from those by other practitioners of the style. Tunes like "A
Feeling" and "Night Visit" are perversely catchy, with lyrics that tend
toward self-effacing. I like that. The humor, however subtle, offsets
the otherwise overbearing gloom. 
The "Secret Stories" compilation is problematic, though I am glad that
it exists. In other words, if tracks from the band's 1985 reunion LP,
'4th Floor,' and their 1983 soundtrack to 'Poste Restante' were not
reissued in some form, there would always be someone crying "Why
doesn't someone reissue those other two Minny Pops records I can't
find?". The tracks from both of these albums, which make up the discs's
second half, recall some of Tuxedomoon's post-Ralph schmaltz, with the
humor replaced by opaque melodrama. My curiosity about these long
out-of-print LPs is now satisfied, but I don't particularly want to
hear the music again. Perhaps that's why the albums were not reissued
in their entirety (a smart move on LTM's part). However, what's great
about "Secret Stories" are the 7" tracks that make up the disc's first
half, including the classic "Dolphin's Spurt" (a different version than
the one on 'Drastic Measures'), and several wonderfully rough 1981
demos. These show the band at their best, a balance of bizarre
electro-funk and edgy industrial disco. The comparison to early Yello
isn't so far off (and, though I don't really want to validate the
venomous English journalists of 1980 who sought to destroy Factory
bands by comparing them all to Joy Division... well, with these 7"s,
the comparison is tough not to notice), but Minny Pops were more subtle
and much darker. With hindsight, it's easy to imagine which other bands
might have listened to these records before starting bands of their own
(especially the Neon Judgement), adding more bombast to the grooves.
Listening to both CDs makes me yearn for the profound oddness that
marked 'Drastic Measures, Drastic Movements,'which is simply not
present here.
I cannot think of many other projects that have been quite as instantly revered as Fred Welton Warmsley III's Dedekind Cut, nor can I think of any other artists who could comfortably fit in at both Hospital Productions and Kranky. Tahoe, Warmsley's first album for the latter, admittedly focuses primarily on Dedekind Cut's more meditative, drone-based side, but there are still some moments ("Spiral," for example) that would not seem out of place on a Raime or Haxan Cloak album. That shifting and elusive aesthetic sometimes leads to some unusual sequencing choices and disorienting mood shifts, but any potential grumblings I may have about Dedekind Cut's fitfully focused vision are silenced by how gorgeous these pieces can be when Warmsley hits the mark (which he does with truly impressive frequency). This is one of the best albums that Kranky has released in a long time.
