Domino have already presented this writer with untold riches courtesy of their extensive TRIFFIDS re-issue programme, re-introducing their entire catalogue to the marketplace for a new generation to discover with the benefit of hindsight.
Their last studio album, 1989's 'The Black Swan' is (I assume?) the final instalment in this programme and like its' essential companions, 'Treeless Plain', 'Born Sandy Devotional', 'Calenture', 'In The Pines' and the compilation 'Beautiful Waste' appears in a lavishly-expanded edition with a second disc of demos and out-takes in tow.
And, while 'The Black Swan' is of course as deserving of this accolade as its' predecessors, it is - for this writer anyway - the least satisfying and least fully-realised title in The Triffids' illustrious canon, suffering from stylistic confusion and sometimes sounding like a band desperately attempting to re-cast themselves in a more commercially-oriented mould.
One thing that always puzzles me is the way The Triffids should choose to go down this road with producer Stephen Street at the helm. Although regarded as a paragon of Britpop efficiency these days (he brought out the professionalism in Pete Doherty with 'Shotter's Nation' after all) he came to 'The Black Swan' on the back of his work with Tthe Smiths on their seminal 'Queen Is Dead' and 'Strangeways Here We Come' albums - both records renowned for their organic, synth-free approach - so it's odd that 'The Black Swan' should often be dominated by keyboards, a glossy pop sheen and that damn drum machine. This latter being the most contentious addition of all for this writer.
Yes, of course 1987's 'Calenture' often found The Triffids succumbing to a lush, string-kissed sound and certainly the likes of 'Bury Me Deep In Love' and 'Holy Water' had designs on the charts, but that record never sounded like anything other than a wonderful Triffids album. At its' weakest, however - on tracks like the curious rap-style delivery of 'Falling Over You', Jill Birt's all-too-weedy 'Good Fortune Rose' and the pointlessly schmaltzy version of Elvis's 'Can't Help Falling In Love' - 'The Black Swan' simply sounds like a compromise. And not an easy one, either. Hell, the bright, synth-addled sheen of tracks like 'Goodbye Little Boy' sound more like the kind of thing producers such as Pascal Gabriel or Stephen Hague were masterminding at the time.
Not too surprisingly, it's on the occasions when Alsy McDonald returns to the drum stool and The Triffids simply concentrate on being their wonderfully enigmatic selves that 'The Black Swan spreads its' glorious wings and takes off majestically. The dusty, arid feel of the opening 'Too Hot To Move, Too Hot To Think' is tremendous and instantly recognisable, while the sublime, spacious likes of 'Go Home Eddie', 'Shell Of A Man' and the listlessly soulful 'New Years Greetings' are as transcendant as ever, kissed by McComb's close-miked, charismatic vocals, silver lyrical linings aplenty (e.g: "I've got two good arms, one bent leg/ one weekly social security cheque" - 'New Years Greetings') and soaked in that indefinable atmosphere that remains so attractive to this day.
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Goodies lurk elsewhere too. The bug-eyed psychosis that marked out some of the band's darker earlier work pervades the rolling drums and black, baritone guitars of the menacing 'One Mechanic Town'; the carnival-tinged atmosphere of the malevolent tango that is 'The Clown Prince' is intoxicating and the closing 'Fairytale Love' oozes both dignity and magnificent sorrow. In fact, even a couple of the less-likely experiments like the doo-wop pastiche 'Bottle Of Love' send you away with a smile on your face, while the creepy 'The Spinning Top Song' is the one place where the drum machine and programming works dramatically in the band's favour.
Generously, this re-issue's second disc again presents us with an alternative set of demos and additional out-takes. As with 'Calenture', these takes are dustier, but equally close to studio realisation, and a slew of additional acoustic McComb demos featuring tantalising tunes like 'No More After You' and 'In The Dark' ensure this expanded version of the band's swansong (sorry) will be valued by longstanding fans and new converts alike.
The album's press release suggests this extended version of 'The Black Swan' demonstrates that its' stylistic sprawl was The Triffids' 'White Album' all along. We could argue the toss about that until the cows come home, but it's certainly true it's an all-encompassing affair that welcomes in both the sublime and the bizarre along the way. Suffice it to say that 'The Black Swan' is a curious and often flawed epitaph for such an amazing band, but for all that it's on first name terms with genius often enough to ensure it's still an essential purchase.
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