Transmission - The Tea Party (1997)On their first three albums in the early 90s, Canada's The Tea Party earned an esteemed reputation by weaving the hard rock sensibilities of the west with the instruments, rhythms and textures of the far and middle east. Crafting songs of philosophically-bent lyrics and dense layers of exotic orchestration, no instrument was too difficult or obscure for the band to learn.
For their fourth album, Transmission, the trio add yet one more layer to the mosaic, a pervasive electronic motif. While the electronic embellishments are prominent, they are applied always precisely, in no way detracting from the vitality of the music presented.
The change is apparent right off the bat, though. The album opener, "Temptation", (82/100), is a good example of the merged musical styles. Opening with the artful ruminations of a tar, an Iranian lute thought to be an ancestor of the modern guitar, the first hint of an electronic loop enters around :20, vanishes and re-enters at :47. All manner of electronic swoops and swirls then follow a Zeppelin-esque beat as the song finds its stimulus. There is also a synthesized symphonic element in the bridge of this song about one who has sadly "lost all control" to the sly, illusory machinations of the world.
A buzzy riff animates "Army Ants", (87), arguably Transmission's hardest and purest track. Very little, if any, production ornamentation is evident here, allowing throat-scorched vocals to "still shine on" with pedal-gorged guitars and bash-and-bang drums. Apparently inspired by Russian novelist Yevgeny Zamyatin's We (1921), its "Kashmir"-like bridge at 2:43 also affords a John Paul Jones reference.
According to psychologist C. G. Jung, a "Psychopomp", (95), (http://www.mediafire.com/?qfqcoc0q185sb2o), is an intermediary between the conscious and the unconscious. Historically understood as a guide or conductor of souls between the realms of the living and the dead in the mythology of most cultures, the ancient Greek's Charon is perhaps the most renowned. He'd also seem to be a particular favourite of the band, what with the Styx being the "The River" in question on the opening cut of Splendor Solis (1993).
The Transmission track, developed by vocalist/guitarist Jeff Martin and drummer Jeff Burrows since they were teenagers, is an unqualified epic as presented here. The first verse is soft, an acoustic strum backed by an industrially flavoured sequence, and introduces the unforgettable piano riff that becomes the song's leitmotif. Synth-strings and drums are added to the second verse which are amplified for the chorus. By the song's second chorus at 3:24, the severity has further heightened with a killer electric guitar melody. The Tom Lord-Alge mix, offered on the Psychopomp promo single, is slightly shorter, minimizing the industrial sequence while emphasizing the fuzzy guitar.
"Gyroscope", (91), coils itself into being, its riff a dizzy whirlwind. The guitars blast powerful gusts of chords here, swelling under electronic treatments. Like the device for which it's named, this song maintains its orientation amidst the chaos of even "worlds ... collid(ing)". The song pushes forward with irrepressible momentum until it just as impressively winds down at the end. Among the best lines: "'Quiet now,' she said, 'you're waking up the dead.'"
The album traverses the terrain of nightmare in "Alarum", (90), negotiating "darkness", disturbance, "desperation" and "devastation". The rupture of vocals on the choruses indicate the cracks of extreme pressure on the dread face of fear that is becoming no more than the sum of one's animalistic impulses. The lyrics name-check Italian engraver Giovanni Battista Piranesi as the architect of the harsh landscape, much like one of his frightening and grotesque imaginary prisons, at once complex and cavernous.
The next track was released as a single to benefit the White Ribbon campaign, opposing violence against women. "Release", (94), driven by a rich, yet ominous keyboard flush and a steady bass-drum thump, is an earnest appeal for gender reconciliation. Martin has gone so far as to deem this song "an apology to women" for the abuse and discrimination they face around the world even today. The charity single features another Tom Lord-Alge remix (as well as Rhys Fulber's extended take on "Temptation", which showed up again in 2000 on the Special Tour Edition of Triptych). The album version is followed by the first of two hidden tracks Transmission harbours, an untitled fifteen-second failed phone call drowned in reverb.
This sets up the title track nicely. "Transmission", (93), itself begins with a call to arms. As if by some electronic ram's horn at the walls of Jericho or a conch in the hands of Triton on the Aegean shore, listeners are summoned to attention. A sample of a clearly agitated voice then enters. Its words, reputedly from a Lebanese funeral chant, remain unclear despite frequent repetition. Ushering in the chorus, another voice declares "I think I hear it, man," regarding the message being transmitted, which might acknowledge the seeming futility of communication, while striving still for understanding. The mesmeric rhythm reminds there are means of expression that transcend mere words.
The Tower of Babel comes to mind as the next track, "Babylon", (74), begins, although no overt mention of it occurs in the song's lyrics. Neither are the decadence and glory of the once mighty empire recounted here, but rather its inevitable collapse: "glimpses of grandeur now faced with defeat". The song itself is very repetitive, with no bridge to break up the monotony of verse, chorus, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, verse, chorus. Tinny drum programming in the first verse feels overdone and distracting. "Babylon", however, is followed by what may be the album's premier interlude, the second hidden track, entitled "Embryo", which fashions an outstanding synth-sequence and piano duet for two minutes.
"Pulse", (90), is another very good song, opening with a nice wah-capped lick. The verse melody is reminiscent of that of "Alarum", and like "Alarum", a dream is described at one point. The horror of this dream, though, is in disregarding one's own transience. As on most of Transmission, the necessary and beneficial end of existence is recognized with a stoic "nothing's forever". Even empires crumble, even songs fade. This one ends rather abruptly, though, as if being sucked through a vacuum.
The gentle strum of "Emerald", (95), (http://www.mediafire.com/?qme5l1dlu2mz541), then, paired with an ever-so-slight keyboard purr feels calming and reassuring to begin. A treated snare on the verses adds to the sense of reverie. The power of this compelling song is only augmented when the electric guitars literally burst through for each chorus. The double-tracked vocal harmony on "I'll be waiting for you" is an aggressively convincing call to come away from the "dark, lonely place" where people unsuccessfully try to hide from their pain.
Approaching complete mechanization for "Aftermath", (89), the album winds d
own in mellow contemplation. The wavy sounds of transistor radio tuning permeate the subdued track, with only vocals and drums to preserve a human element. The percussion is strong, whether rendering the impression of striking pipes, as on the verses, or the eightfold bap that brings the song its most elation leading into each chorus. Even in the darkest worlds, even when time is wasted and taken for granted, "glimpses of hope exist."Although credited for conception or direction of art in nearly all Tea Party projects, Transmission surprisingly marks the sole instance of bassist Stuart Chatwood's own work gracing the cover of one. The painting here is entitled, "The Earth We Inherit"
Even for its often gothic and industrial feel, Transmission does relay a positive beginnings-from-ends type vibe. There would be even more changes to the Tea Party's style by the time their next album, Triptych, dropped in 1999. Espousing a more radio-friendly approach would garner their greatest commercial success, but it is on their earlier albums, like Transmission, where the band creates its legacy.
Transmission (album): 89/100.
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