Post-punk side projects don’t get much better than Second Layer, a dark and edgy electronics and guitar excursion featuring Adrian Borland and Graham Bailey from the critically lauded outfit The Sound. Earlier this year, the 1972 label collected Second Layer’s early material onto the Courts or Wars LP, and that set’s been promptly followed with a reissue of the duo’s sole full-length World of Rubber. Originally released in 1981, the album’s nine tracks walk an exquisite tightrope of anxiety and alienation.
One of the lingering headscratchers of the post-punk era is how The Sound’s commercial success fell significantly short of their critical standing. Formed by Borland and Bailey out of the dissolution of the punk outfit The Outsiders, The Sound’s debut full-length Jeopardy impressively and deservedly received five-star reviews in all three of the major UK music weeklies (The New Musical Express, Melody Maker, and Sounds), but this esteem didn’t spark sales commensurate to the (often lesser) bands to which The Sound are frequently compared.
The Sound’s early stuff is aptly assessed as full-bodied and tense post-punk, but it wasn’t overly abrasive or particularly difficult in structure. Borland and Bailey’s near simultaneous forming of another band could be viewed as a possible channeling of their more caustic experimental tendencies away from The Sound proper, though they also kept a handle on quality songs in Second Layer’s scheme.
Indeed, one of World of Rubber’s strongest aspects is songwriting that’s often a cut above the norm for these sorts of post-punky (and thoroughly UK) sojourns, experiences that are reliably longer on atmosphere than legit tunes. We’re talking bleak and tense with structural angularity and intermittent explosiveness. And to be clear, atmosphere is perfectly fine, but songs are a definite plus, especially when the writing is more than mere approximations of Joy Division, Gang of Four, PIL, Wire, or the Pop Group.
Now, World of Rubber certainly doesn’t want for post-punk ambiance, and there are occasional similarities to other bands on the scene at the time. Opener “Definition of Honour” dishes a hissy electro foundation that’s not too far from pre-dance riddim Cabaret Voltaire but adds choppy-stabby guitar and anti-war lyrics that should goose the butt of any Mark Stewart fan.
For most of its duration, “In Bits” is like the prelude to a back alley rumble between Joy Division and Suicide, but then all sweet hell breaks loose. What remains striking (downright inspiring, in fact) are the shrieks of guitar in the cut’s back half. “Fixation” retains a smidge of the Joy Div vibe, but its up-tempo nature and density of attack steer the piece in a different direction.
And if plenty angsty, “Save Our Souls” isn’t overly reminiscent of any of Second Layer’s post-punk contemporaries all while being utterly of its era. That is, World of Rubber was originally released by Cherry Red, and sounds like it. “Distortion” offers vaguely Suicide-ish menace injected with spasms of guitar, amp roar and bass throb, and the early electronic clop and sizzle of “Underneath the Glass” radiates an early Mute aura, at least until the vocals come in (plus, breaking six minutes, the cut is a rigorous dive into repetition).
“Zero” combines string ripping largeness and programmed beat thwack, with the outcome both ominous and catchy in the choruses, at least until a late redirect into the atmospheric. From there, the vocal chant purge in “Japanese Headset” reminds me once more of Suicide, but shrewdly so (echo-laden and multi-tracked), and “Black Flowers” introduces keyboards as some extended (fairly Goth-y) moodiness brings the album to a close.
Unsurprisingly, the keys largely dissipate as “Black Flowers” leans into its dirgelike quality. And that’s nice. Definitely more than a side project, World of Rubber holds up extremely well. It’s another must acquisition for post-punk fans.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
