1. Theusz Hamtaahk - 36:052. Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh - 40:05
This live double-album was the first time anyone who hadn't been to a concert could hear part one of the trilogy, Theusz Hamtaahk. I'm not sure why it was never recorded in the studio. Maybe the band had too many other works in progress, maybe the timing was never right, maybe the record company (bewildered that their groovy jazz rock band had become a war-like alien choir) put down their collective foot. Whatever the reason may be, Theusz Hamtaahk is every bit as intense, dramatic, and rewarding as Magma's best, and I'm just thankful it wasn't left to linger solely in the memories of concert-goers.
Theusz Hamtaahk starts out with an abrupt, machine-gun-like chant (same as Ẁurdah Ïtah), which cycles through menacing melodies before dying down to a half-tone pulse (think the fast part in the music for Jaws). This pulse relentlessly climbs the scale for the next eleven minutes. Curt vocals and synthesizer carve out a jagged atonal melody, and harmony female vocals swell and ebb upon the turgid waters, releasing the monotony of the slow and steady build at just the right moments. When you think you'll never escape the semi-musical vortex (somewhere around the 17-minute mark), the vocalists burst forth into a song about "da zeuhl wortz mekanik", and from there the dramatic choir takes over the direction and feel of the piece. Celebratory jams with bubbly vocals and synthesizer transition dizzyingly into aggressive rhythms and calm respite.
The apex of the piece comes at the 26-minute mark: Everything dies down to mysterious chords on electric piano, with synth arpeggios percolating in the background. Two male vocals begin a monotone incantation building up to repetitions of the phrase "Theusz Hamtaahk" (sounds like "tuce omtok"), slow and spooky at first, then building into a forceful, lung-busting war chant. The piece ends with another vocal celebration that ratchets up the intensity to an enormous cathartic release. The audience applause subsides to reveal sirens and screams. Chilling!
As if that wasn't enough, we get a full (if significantly altered) live performance of MDK. Without the horns and mass orchestration, hidden harmonic details emerge, and different melodies are highlighted. Not only does the music breathe more, but the excitement of the performers shines through. The performance stays true to the studio version up through track four. However, when the band gets to "Nebëhr Gudahtt", they take a left turn into a lengthy, freeform improvisation highliting bass guitar (Bernard Paganotti) and electric violin (Didier Lockwood). The two prove to be impressive performers, but the section definitely interrupts the flow and feel of the piece, even if it does assert the band's jazz credentials. Coming back to "Mëkanïk Kömmandöh" (track six of the studio album), the group flies through this incredibly complex section, the vocalists tripping lightly over the treacherous rhythms. The performance ends here instead of going on to "Kreühn Köhrmahn Ïss Dëh Hündïn" - a puzzling move for me, but it still gives way to massive audience applause.
It must have been otherworldly to see this music live, much less to perform it. (It's hard enough to sing in a made-up language, but to sing it in a round? In a weird time signature? C'mon...) Apparently Magma is still a performing band, with Christian and Stella Vander leading a whole troop of young musicians who bring their best talents and enthusiasm to this complex music. I think you have to be in France to have a chance of seeing them, though... C'est la vie.
Arbitrary rating: 4.5 out of 5 lung-busting war chants
P.S. I promise I'll review something more normal soon. You've suffered enough.
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