The Automatik

A Foetus by any other name would still snarl as sweetly.

Changing monikers more frequently than Nick Rhodes changed hair colors, Jim Foetus was one prolific motherfucker throughout the ’80s. The various names were sick jokes, but each was the product of one James G. Thirlwell, from songwriting to performance, from production to art direction.

His early stuff earned him the dubious mantle of “industrial,” a categorization that in no way does his stunningly eclectic career justice. Indeed, to pigeonhole him as involuntarily responsible for the existence of Trent Reznor would be to ignore the vast expanse of his influences, not all of them musical (Nazi artwork and quotes from The Simpsons come immediately to mind). While Thaw is more goosebumps-inducingly evil (if “English Faggot” doesn’t send a chill to your toes there’s a problem with your nervous system), Nail is the most cohesive album of them all.

Spooky, Wagner-esque orchestrations tie together songs about Charles Manson, executioners, menstrual sex, and the depths of human despair. Yet Foetus isn’t being facetiously dark; such depraved characters are all parts of himself. When he growls about ruling his body from the throne of agony, you know he’s not bullshitting. These visceral displays of nastiness are anything but unlistenable, however. The album is rife with amazing melodies, and no one can turn a throaty croon into a tortured scream like Foetus, not to mention create more truly inspired and brilliant puns, both musical and lyrical, than I could ever hope to recount.

The heady combination of pre-NIN industrial sounds and big band-style brass backed by a choir of voices that might perform in Satan’s barbershop quartet are unparalleled. Hearing selections from Nail on college radio I was transfixed, and I bought it as soon as I could get my 15-year old ass down to the Toxic Shock record store in the French Quarter. My mother’s disgust over the album cover only made it more palatable to me. Thank god she never read the lyrics to “Pigswill.”

Self Immolation/Some Bizarre, 1985