One record at a time: 548. Nitzer Ebb - Belief

I was playing this album on my computer one day when it struck me that, although I already owned “Belief” physically on compact disc, it didn't feel enough. The CD had done sterling service, of course, sitting there in its little plastic case like a well-behaved office worker with excellent attendance. But some albums seem to demand the full ceremonial treatment: a sleeve, a spine, a place on the record shelf and respectable smattering of dust to prove you actually play your records. After a quick visit to Discogs and several days waiting for Royal Mail to complete its customary snail-like procession, I became the proud owner of an original UK pressing.

Like a lot of people, I first became aware of Nitzer Ebb through their association with Depeche Mode and Mute Records. They were clearly not as commercial as their labelmates, but there was something about their raw, disciplined and unrelenting sound that I found fascinating. Not least because their music felt properly electronic rather than merely decorated with electronics. Released in 1989, “Belief” captures the band at a point where muscle, machinery and menace all seem to be working from the same instruction manual.

The irresistible opening track, “Hearts and Minds”, has a chorus that showers sparks as if the synthesisers have been left unattended in a fireworks factory. It is urgent, severe and oddly thrilling, which is not a combination most artists manage without sounding like they have mistaken shouting for conviction. “For Fun” has a peculiar rhythm that would probably force listeners to dance as though they were suffering from a dislocated shoulder, making it truly intriguing and only mildly hazardous. Doug's vocal on the centrepiece, “Control I’m Here”, is delivered with suitable menace while Bon Harris’ synths grind away underneath like heavy machinery with a grudge.

The production skills of Flood, along with the sound of his Roland System 700, are really prominent on this album. The record does not feel built from familiar presets, or from the showroom demonstration mode of someone’s new keyboard. Nothing drifts by politely. “Belief” arrives, points at you, and expects a response.

The standout on the second side is “Shame”, a masterclass in aggressive minimalism. It proves that you do not need layers of ornamentation when you can simply deploy rhythm, repetition and attitude with the confidence of someone kicking open a fire door. Things tail off slightly on “Drive” and “Blood Money”, but every album has a lull, and at least Nitzer Ebb’s lulls still sound like they could pass a fitness test. The final track, “Without Belief”, is a driving closer that serves as a thematic bookend to an album that constantly seems to ask, “What is it to be human?” Admittedly, it asks this question while sounding like it has confiscated your chair and replaced it with a steel bench.

Industrial music, or electronic body music, is rarely this deep. “Belief” makes you engage your brain while your feet are busy filing a formal complaint. It is stark, inventive, confrontational and far more thoughtful than its surface aggression might suggest. A record that fully earns its place on the shelf, even if it looks as though it might start an argument with the albums on either side. 4/5