swopedesign's Full Review: Pleasure Victim [EP] by Berlin
I'm not a fan of synth-pop bands (as they're called, I guess). I don't own any Talking Heads, Depeche Mode or Pet Shop Boys. Never did. Don't want to. Never wanted to.
But Berlin is another story. I'm not one to categorize Berlin, and I wouldn't certainly have categorized them as a synth-pop band. IMHO, synth-pop bands never had any depth. They're all surface clean, if you know what I mean. Berlin, in contrast, is sexual, sensual. Sex for them is often an experience, and Terri Nunn gives voice to that experience, as a geisha, a slut, a bi*tch, a blue movie, and more. Their music is also rich with small details that become symbols and have their own tale to share (though we never learn it). For me, their music also has a European quality (probably due to the synth), so it may come as some surprise to new listeners to learn that Berlin originates from Orange County, California, U.S.A.
Pleasure Victim Track List:
1) Tell Me Why
2) Pleasure Victim
3) Sex (I'm A...)
4) Masquerade
5) The Metro
6) World of Smiles
7) Torture
8) Sex (I'm A...) Extended Version
Pleasure Victim is Berlin's first album, becoming a hot request in 1982 on alternative radio stations due primarily to the explicit, moaning "Sex (I'm A...)". Banned on most Top 40 radio stations, "Sex (I'm A...)" was followed by other Berlin favorites "The Metro" and "Masquerade." Geffen Records re-released Pleasure Victim and it reached Gold record status. No less powerful than the explicit and sexual lyrics are Terri Nunn's sexy, lustful, yet vulnerable vocalizations. For some fans, Berlin is Terri Nunn.
Unlike the superficial themes of other, better-known synth-pop bands, Berlin's themes are close to our hearts, whether we can admit it to ourselves or not. Their tunes are about disconnected relationships and sexual roles with unmistakeably dark and despairing under and overtones. In many ways, Berlin's "characters" never make meaningful connections with others, except thru sex. Though Berlin's most popular song from this disc is "Sex (I'm A...)," I find the other tracks, you might call them Side B cuts, considerably more interesting and engaging. Berlin's disconnected relationships and sexual roles are powered by juxtaposed opposites and reversals throughout this disc.
In "Tell Me Why," Terri Nunn's character commands of her unknown lover, tell me why. Why he's keeping her away. Why he watched her walk away and did nothing about it. Why it is over. The only thing between them, it seems, is extended silence. At the same time, though Terri's character misses the only love she's known, she's also laughing and cannot understand why. She even asks her separated lover why she is laughing. It would seem that Terri's character knew the relationship wouldn't last though she wants it to, possibly due to her never-mentioned history of failed relationships. It is the juxtaposition of sorrow and ironic laughter in "Tell Me Why" that makes it a powerful track (for me).
"Pleasure Victim" is another cut that plays off juxtaposition of opposites and reversals. Even the title does this. Here, pleasure makes one a victim. In the first few verses (I find it interesting that there isn't any standard chorus!), Terri's character is seduced and emerges as changed. As she leaves, the situation has already become a game. The listener (the man to whom Terri's character speaks) is now the object, where the narrator might have been just moments before. The listener as object then becomes the pleasure victim, without discernible, individual features. This unknown, unnamed man has become just one of the indistinct bodies of a number of the narrator's pleasure victims.
As humans, we recognize male and female roles in society. "Sex (I'm A...)" is a cut about roles, particularly sexual roles. Though the first two tracks speak to a man (presumably) but none appears, this cut features a male vocalist and a female vocalist, in dialogue. Between the two, these characters contrast one another, turn by turn. For the man, "love" is simply being inside the woman, and the sound and smell of "love". For the woman, she is an object, a "toy" to be played with, to be imaginative with. Concerning roles, a man's role is very narrow, just a man, while a woman is a goddess, a virgin, a blue movie (porn star), a bi*tch, a geisha, a little girl, a slave, a boy, a mother, a one night stand, a bisexual, a teaser, a drug, a dream divine, a hooker, a slut, and a babe. Obviously, a woman's roles, particularly a woman's sexual roles, are considerably more varied and rich than a man's roles. At the same time, since roles are determined by culture, it is our culture that has forced a woman's roles to be so many in number, so varied, so rich (one might say), so complex, while a man's role is simple, single-minded. For "Sex (I'm A...)," love/sex roles are defined for us and by each other as members of our culture, but not by us as individuals. This, I think, is powerful social comment.
Like "Sex (I'm A...)," which explores male/female roles, "Masquerade" explores the essence of roles. Here, we don't have any voices or characters, as we do in the first three tracks. Instead, here we have an observer, but he/she is not objective. For this observer, faces in the street are painted caricatures reflecting the past, when each person was young and sweet (and naive). These figures reel by like unsubstantial ghosts, actors in a forgotten play, dancing with chance partners, forgetting that this just a masquerade, stuck in time it would seem, for tomorrow never comes. These players, these puppets, try to leave the masquerade, but the music continues to play for the masquerade, which as we're told, though mostly forgotten, goes on forever. In short, the masquerade that is thought to be our lives, after a short time, masquerades as life itself. For this observer, the figures are trapped in this black and empty play, while music continues to play. The makings of a horror scene.
The next track is one of my favorites from Berlin. Like the preceding tracks, "The Metro" tells a story through specific details. In this cut, we once again have a female narrator sharing her tale. She has traveled from Paris to London by train to meet a man who swims through apologies and remembers a soldier sleeping next to her on the Metro. The selection of "soldier" is interesting here, as it implies battle, either past or future or both. At the same time, this soldier once turns toward the narrator and then looks away, figuratively abandoning her. For this soldier on the Metro, a feeling comes over her, until he looks away. This artistically suggests that the unknown, unnamed man she meets in London is also possibly a soldier. In these specific ways, "The Metro" is a minimalist poem sung to music.
Though written by John Crawford, who also wrote "Tell Me Why," "Pleasure Victim," and "The Metro" and co-authored "Sex (I'm A...)," the last two tracks are not executed as skillfully. Both share themes from earlier tracks, but they are average tracks, nothing spectacular. "World of Smiles," with another female speaker, is about a couple's relationship that, on the surface, is pleasant enough, a world of smiles, but underneath is anger, distrust, masks. "Torture," with yet another female speaker, is a short soliloquy describing the torture she feels about a broken relationship.
Though Berlin's best-known tune "Take My Breath Away" (from the Top Gun soundtrack) doesn't appear on this early disc, some of Berlin's best tunes do appear on this disc. Like most first releases, the best tracks on this CD have a raw, human edge to them not present in the commerically-polished, considerably less explicit later tunes. These early tracks on Pleasure Victim, however, are undoubtedly bold and take calculated artistic risks.
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