Suicide – Suicide (1977)

[Album 573/1001]

I can’t tell if this is among the best or the worst albums of the 1001 list thus far.

And that makes me very excited.

A graph, or three, to explain.

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1. As first proposed last year, I believe that most of the albums I’ve heard/will hear (and I estimate there will be about 680 of them by the end) are in that “OK” to “Really Good” range.

To borrow a Michael Bluth quote, I have no problem with that.

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2. For better or worse, another 270 of the albums will be in that next range, meaning 95% of the 1001 list will be somewhere between “Not Really My Cuppa” and “Stellar.”

And some recent new-to-me records certainly belong in that narrow “Really Good” to “Stellar” window (such as Night Life & Live at the Regal).

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3. Of the 1001, there will be 4 albums that are untouchably amazing or unbearably awful.

I don’t believe Suicide quite fits either of those descriptions.

However, for the first time in recent memory, I think I’ve stumbled across an album that is at least approaching one of the extremes.

I’m not sure that one could ‘like’ this album;  it feels like an album that, one way or another, listeners will leave with much stronger feelings than that.

But do I “despise” it?

Or is this a “magical” record?

Listening to the side 2 opener, Frankie Teardrop, might be the optimal litmus test.

Are the 10 minutes and 26 seconds of bleak storytelling & sporadic howling barely listenable?

Or are they brilliant?

For me, it’s too soon to tell.

Yet I’m convinced that whatever Suicide’s 1977 debut album is, there’s nothing halfway about it.

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Verbalize the Positive

Thanks to my friend James Tallon (again) for lending me another intriguing LP & for not charging late fees!