A review of Coil's "Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil"

So...imagine if, sometime after the release of Musick to Play in the Dark, Vol. 2, a Coil fan sees John Balance on the street or in a supermarket or worshipping at the same blood-soaked, black mass as himself. Making sure not to corner him or bother him, the fan approaches Balance and shyly introduces himself. He tells Balance that he's a huge fan and he loves Coil; that Coil has changed his life, inspired him and everything else a great artist does for his fans and loves to hear about.
They chat back and forth and, at the end of said chat, the fan, feeling that burst of confidence one feels after meeting, talking to and discovering his favorite musician isn't a prick, while shaking Balance's hand, off handedly, says, "And, seriously, I don't think you guys have sold out."
Balance, who was genuinely enjoying this little exchange up to that point, falters and stops shaking the fan's hand.
"I'm sorry...what do you mean?" he says.
The fan, suddenly losing that confidence, stammers something like, "Oh...uh...n-n-nothing...I mean...n-no...uh..."
Balance, still holding the fan's hand, squeezes it, just enough.
He leans in close and just a whisper of the ranting psychopath he channels on the Coil albums creeps into his voice. "Tell me...what...you...mean...boy."
The fan, now shit scared, blurts out, "Well, you know, a lot, well, not a lot, but some, a few, several fans think that you guys maybe, kind of, well...you know, like those Musick to Play in the Dark albums...they...well, every song had vocals on the last one and you know some people, not me, think that, you know...maybe you guys have, you know..." he trails off.
"Sold. Out." Balance finishes.
"...yeah."
There is a long, considering silence as Balance, who is still clutching the fan's hand, looks off into the middle distance. Minutes pass and the fan has actually wet himself a little when, finally, Balance turns, slowly, back to him, a fierce grin on his face and fire in his eyes, and says, in a poisonous, deliberate voice, "You...just...fucking...wait."
Then he consumes the fan's soul, gets a spot of tea, enters the studio with dear "Uncle Sleazy" at his side and creates the following album.
Imagine all that.
Because I did.

"Higher Beings Command"*, a harsh and grating buzz like an error pitched low and drawn out, welcomes listeners to this latest work by Coil. Some chains jingle faintly in the background, contributing additional flavor. This is an orchestrated malfunction, a roar from a broken, digital maw, and, although it's little more than pure texture, it's an excellent opener, subtle and sinister. Plus, at just over four minutes, it doesn't outstay its (un)welcome.
The scrambled radio signal overlayed with the unsettling marimba on "I Am The Green Child"** does a great job of purveying a strong sense of disarray, confusion, that something is damaged, but it's when the muffled voice of your favorite grandfather, deep in the throes of late stage Alzheimer's and with his mouth stuffed with cotton, starts speaking that things get really fucking creepy.
Did you know grandpa was a priest in a suicide cult?
The marimba adds a lot to the atmosphere on this, but it really is Balance's vocals that take the taco.***
Oh, and, hey, if you weren't shitting yourself already, at one point, Balance just starts laughing., but not in a "we're sharing a joke" way, more like a "I've put my darkness inside of you and soon it shall hatch and bear oleaginous, ebon fruit" way.
Thanks, John.
Towards the end, those radio interference buzzes get more prominent and try to be scary, but their effort is wasted: the listener has already died.
But, just in case they aren't dead, Balance throws in one of his trademark moan/howls at the very end, like the cherry on the sundae...if the cherry is made of fear and the sundae is made of nightmares.
Next is "Beige", which consists of tidal waves of electronic discord****, slowly sloshing back and forth, ebbing and flowing, between the left and right channels.
And that's about it.
"Beige" flows right into "Lowest Common Abdominator" which is almost the exact same track, but with some added texture; the calm seas are frothing, menacing. Did LCA and "Beige" really need to be two separate tracks? Wait, I've got a better one for you...did LCA, "Beige" and "Free Base Chakra" really need to be three separate tracks?
Some backwards cymbal hisses are tossed in and some of the noises from "Beige" and LCA are pitched a bit differently at times, but, overall, there's not too much changing here. These three could have been one, sixteen minute track...but, then again, if it's good enough for Coil, it's good enough for me.
And speaking of good enough for me...the final eighteen tracks of Shallowness are one song.
It is called "Tunnel of Goats" and...hm.
Okay, originally, I was just going to post links and have you listen rather than waste space here just calling the whole thing "shitty, abrasive, awful, boring, noisy fucking noise", but then I considered that nothing is just "noise". Even the most nondescript noise has texture and depth and there has to be something that can be said about it or else it doesn't technically exist.
So.
The right channel is quiet, Silent Hill radio sounds letting you know there are monsters here. The left channel is a loud, repeating progression of what sounds like four "notes"*****. There are slight variations to the sounds coming from both channels; they phase, splutter, stutter and strobe. You want something positive about this? Nice texture. The noise in the left channel resembles a guitar at times. Some singing begins at the end of "Tunnel of Goats V"******, although it's more like monks alternately chanting and talking...about animals and dying and shit, but not about tunnels or goats. Which disappoints me.
The singing is finished by TOG 9 and, although I actively tried to pay attention, I started getting bored and tuning out by the end of 11; diminishing returns like a motherfucker. Another positive note: these guys really know how to make noise. In fact, I'll go a step further and say that this "music" would be just perfect for torturing prisoners of war with sleep deprivation.
At one point, some bugs start chewing on the right channel, but I don't really care.
In the end, listeners who have soldiered through this entire twenty plus minute thing are rewarded with......nothing.
Not even goats.
 Everything just stops.
Then, after about a minute of blissful, blessed silence, you get fifteen seconds of John Balance's disturbed/disturbing laughter.
And thus ends Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil

This album can be described as "textured" just as an ass studded with broken glass, rusty nails and the suppurating sores caused by said glass and nails can be called "textured".
I can't help but feel that the laughter at the very end of "Tunnel of Goats" is at me.
Not with me and not at the fact that constant shallowness does, in fact, lead to evil, but because I just listened to this whole thing.
You win this one, asshole, you win this one.




* An excellent song title

** Whether this is a reference to the green children of Wollpit, I have no clue; most likely, knowing Coil (which I do not), it is (or not).

*** The Taco of Inchoate, Screaming Horror

**** This might be a tortured guitar...

***** That's in quotes because every sound falls somewhere on a musical scale.

****** Each "Tunnel of Goats" varies in length from five minutes to about thirty seconds.