1984 was the year that I became deeply infatuated with all things Throbbing Gristle. Thanks to a few all night "altered states" listening sessions, my perception of their music and how it was created was completely reconfigured. With this neural rewiring in place, I was able to appreciate aspects of their sound and techniques I was never able to perceive before. But TG were more than just a band, they were the architects of a movement and used their independently operated corporate identity, Industrial Records, to help give other artists exposure and a leg up on getting their products out in the market as well. I wasn't really aware of the full extent of this aspect of their activities until Illuminated Records issued the retrospective compilation album, The Industrial Records Story, in 1984.
The album collected together several singles and a selection of album tracks from the various artists who had been released by Industrial Records in the last few years of its initial phase of activity, ending in 1981. As well as a couple of TG singles, the LP featured Monte Cazazza, The Leather Nun, Robert Rental & Thomas Leer, SPK, Cabaret Voltaire, Elisabeth Welch, Clock DVA, Dorothy & William S. Burroughs. With the exception of Cabaret Voltaire, this album was my initial exposure to pretty much everyone else present. And it was much more than just a collection of "industrial" noise. There was an astonishing variety of music and sound on the album, demonstrating quite clearly the range of interests within the label and the people behind it.
Though the LP kicks off with TG at their most abrasive, blaring forth with the infamous, We Hate You (Little Girls) and then serves up a nightmarish junkie fever dream for Mother's Day from Monte Cazazza, things start to diversify with the dirge of burn victim post-punk from The Leather Nun. Next up is the synth-pop dreaminess of Rental & Leer, but the biggest shifts are saved for the arrival of Elisabeth Welch and her heartbreaking version of Stormy Weather. The single was released because it was used by experimental film maker, Derek Jarman, in his film, The Tempest. Recorded in 1933, the song is a stark contrast to the rest of the album, yet still manages to work in context with its mood of gloom and loss.
The album concludes with a section from William S. Burroughs' album, Nothing Here Now but the Recordings. On its own, this track became my introduction to his works and represented a sample of something which had never been given serious consideration before. It was a concrete example of the "cut-up" theory in its earliest incarnation. The story behind the manifestation of this album is worth an entire book on its own as Genesis P-Orridge and Peter Christopherson were the first to be given access to this material by Burroughs, who considered the experiments of no real consequence until he was convinced otherwise by Gen & Sleazy. It was a critical introduction to a vital and expansive technique, easily adaptable to nearly any medium.
The album has never been reissued since its initial release, though all the material contained on it has been reissued separately.
