French-Fried Punk
Métal Urbain: The Seminal Act Few Have Heard
Tools
w/the Intelligence, Joey Casio
Wed March 31, Hideaway, 9 pm, $8.
French ensemble Métal Urbain holds a unique place in music history. Their 1977 single, "Paris Maquis"/"Clé de Contact," was the first record released by seminal UK post-punk label Rough Trade. They dared to integrate keyboards and drum machines into punk at a time when precious few of their contemporaries--Suicide, the Screamers--were exploring similar terrain. And despite their limited discography, their records would influence subsequent revolutionaries including Big Black and the Jesus and Mary Chain.
So how come nobody's heard of them?
The fault certainly doesn't lie with the quality of the music, as evidenced by the recent anthology Anarchy in Paris! (on Acute Records), which surveys their brief, four-year (1976-1980) career. Bristling with clipped, mechanized beats, the twin buzz-saw-cum-surf-guitars of Pat Lüger and Hermann Schwartz, and singer Clode Panik's incendiary bark, their debut '77 single, "Panik," was as catchy as anything released by their U.S. or UK peers. Its flip side, "Lady Coca-Cola," anticipated industrial forefathers Throbbing Gristle with its dark, grinding synths and métal-on-métal percussion. A handful of previously unreleased cuts are equally intriguing, particularly a stark dash through "Train Kept a Rollin'" that is to Aerosmith's signature rendition what Devo's herky-jerky take on "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" was to the Rolling Stones' original.
Métal Urbain were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. "There were no bands like us then in France," says keyboard player Charlie H today. The first wave of French punk bands were primarily influenced by a familiar stable: the Velvet Underground, MC5, the Stooges, the New York Dolls (who played Paris in 1973). Métal Urbain were fans of these artists, too--their moniker was a nod to Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music--but had a different vision. Taking his cues from Brian Eno's work with Roxy Music, founder Eric Débris sought to explore the unique potential of synthesizers to inject new sounds into the traditional rock-band setup.
According to Charlie, the problem wasn't that crowds turned their noses up at Métal Urbain's innovations; they never got the chance. The French scene, which was centered mostly on the hipster record boutique Open Market in Paris, lacked the underground infrastructure of New York or London. "[The public] just never heard of us," he says. Fanzines were scarce, and touring was impossible."
Métal Urbain was better received across the channel, playing dates at infamous London venues like the Roxy and the 100 Club. Having moved 1,500 copies of the "Panik" 45 as a pricey import, independent record seller Rough Trade subsidized a second single, "Paris Marquis," which quickly sold through its pressing of 10,000 units. MU's third single, 1978's "Hysterie Connective," was also released via a British label, Radar.
Métal Urbain's decision to perform in their native tongue limited their appeal with English-speaking punk fans, but it also set them apart from their colleagues at home. "Very, very few bands were singing in French at this time," explains Charlie. "[Our] lyrics were very avant-garde and unusual, based mainly on anarchist slogans. That's why they are still pertinent today."
Unable to remain in England, or secure a record deal in France, Métal Urbain soldiered on through four lineup changes before folding in 1980, with Débris spinning off two new bands--Métal Boys and Dr. Mix & the Remix--from the ashes of MU. But a quarter-century later, MU are finally receiving their due. "Now almost everybody into rock music [in France] has heard of us," says Charlie. "There is even a big party in Paris called Panik." The band plans to release a new studio record in early 2005, and there is talk of a tribute album, too.
In their heyday, Métal Urbain could barely get booked in the City of Light; this January, they sold out two big reunion shows. As for their current, 12-city North American tour, Charlie says old-timers wary of a jaded debacle à la the Sex Pistols reunions have nothing to fear. "We are not embittered or tired," he insists. "We haven't played together for 25 years, so we are still very fresh."
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