#498: Suicide (Suicide, 1977)

This is the kind of album to make you question what even counts as music. The centrepiece of the album, the 10 minute song Frankie Teardrops, is a deeply unsettling listen about death, murder and hell, punctuated by the lead singer's reverberating screams and accompanied by an unending, suffocating synth drone. It is effective performance art, but I can imagine very few occasions where I want to listen to it again. That doesn't mean that the album is entirely creepy meditations on murder, though. It also features some genuinely enjoyable songs. The opening song, Ghost Rider, utilises Suicide's moody, atmospheric synth-punk to its upmost. Unfortunately, Suicide is let down by its weak lyricism in many songs, where endlessly repeated phrases suggest an inability to tackle deeper themes. Nevertheless, I cannot help but recommend this album. It is short, terrifying and fascinating. 4/5