The Review of “On Land And In The Sea”
from Melody Maker
THE CARDIACS
On Land And In The Sea
ALPHABET
I’M shattered. In the past, The Cardiacs on vinyl have often seemed impish and miserly to me; smaller than life and very much smaller than their own live performances. “On Land And In The Sea” isn’t. It’s arguable the first Cardiacs album to capture the full majesty of their sound. Ah, but that sound!
When I listen to The Cardiacs, I hear echoes of Broadway musical – in the unapologetic, audacious breadth and scale of their sound – as well as the inscrutably Germanic qualities of a Brecht or Eisler (both of whom would have loved this album). In fact, The Cardics are very Brechtian: they never allow the listener to settle into passive receptivity. What astonished me is the amount of energy they expend. It’s not always very elegant, which is why some people have difficulty with it, I suspect, but in a world run by designers and advertising men, who needs elegance?
This is why Cardiacs fans tend to display the comradely zeal of people who’ve passed through some sort of initiation ceremony together. It’s because they alone know that The Cardiacs are not “wacky”: they mean every word, every last syllable of it. It’s a relationship based on trust and, like Jesus or herpes, once you’ve got it you’ve got it. Having said that, “On Land And In The Sea” is the easiest of their work to get. It’s insanely sharp; one continuous, sweeping, collection of sawn-off epic joy.
I’d like to tell you about the songs, but it simply doesn’t make sense to talk about them individually (although “Mare’s Nest” could easily become a classic). There’s a rare internal unity here that makes groove-hopping unrewarding – you have to listen to the whole thing. This is a demanding experience and it can’t be undertaken casually. But it carries its own reward. “On Land And In The Sea” is a deeply satisfying album. I can’t listen to it once without wanting to hear it again. And I’m shattered, but happy.
ANDREW SMITH
The Review of “On Land And In The Sea”
Q Magazine
Long and unwilling holders of madcap cult status as fruitcake purveyors of irreverent, florid, and pomp-ish pop, both harking back to the early ‘70s and ridiculing that period’s excesses, The Cardiacs have been unable in a 10 year history to translate bleakly neurotic visions of suburbia, and their amusing, if tacky, live appeal onto vinyl. Until now. The third album from the Kingston-Upon-Thames band, once the subject of a Sunday Sport incest inquiry, is a tour-de-force. Singer Tim Smith’s skittish, straining vocals collide with wheezing fairground organ on the first two songs Baby Heart Dirt and Two Bites Of Cherry, to set a manic, cackling pace that never lets up. There’s hints of The Small Faces and Peter Hamill aplenty, though the six-piece group have clearly found a kooky voice of their own on the surreal piece-de-resistance The Duck And Roger The Horse. A scary and unanticipated triumph.
Henry Williams
ON LAND AND IN THE SEA
Reviewby Dean Carlson.
The Cardiacs didn’t make it easy to like their second album, too happy to let their whirligig of shattered atonal pop come apart at its seams. The band’s technique for hoisting a radical thrill out of audience discomfort was pushed to extremes (“Fast Robert,” “Baby Heart Dirt”) and it suddenly felt forced and phony, like a poor Dadaist trying to make do in a world of Starter jackets and Technotronic. Great for those who liked staticy hip-hop, piercing keyboards, Long Ranger harmonicas, and the sound of a tape deck being clicked off, less so for those who didn’t.