'Call of the West' by Wall of Voodoo

Originally published as a homepage review on RateYourMusic.com 
(September 19, 2013)

5 of 5

 Scouring the music section in a local library I frequent, always manages to thrust an ever-expanding multitude of old and new acts into my music geek data registry. This past week, I came upon Wall of Voodoo's closest watermark to commercial success, 'Call of the West.' Prior to listening to this album, I had heard Mexican Radio a few times during car rides from my childhood, and I recalled enjoying that particular song. Usually I am not one to take risks when blindly choosing to listen to a full album based on the strength of just one single, but my instincts were immediately captivated by the David Lynch-esque album cover on the library CD. I may have only just discovered Stan Ridgway and Wall of Voodoo, but so far, my impression of Voodoo's Ridgway-led era is one of high regard.

 If Clint Eastwood and the spaghetti western had come about during the early 1980's, this album would provide an excellent soundtrack with it's dark, paranoid synth-twang. There are instances where certain Morricone-indebted vignettes depicted in the songs would sound quite at home on an Adam Ant LP--if Adam had decided to cull a more somber tone during the peak of his career. I honestly can't say I've heard an album quite as fresh and subversive from the early 1980's. While it relies on new wave synthesizer flourishes and keeps pace with the genre's signature angular guitar riffs, the band is an anomaly when standing against the neon science fiction blasts of poster children such as Ultravox or Missing Persons. From what I can infer based on the robust coherence of this album, the band's closest kin folk are Oingo Boingo or Devo.

Stan presents a very offbeat, salt of the earth commentary of himself and his musical vision during those years.In certain lights he could be designated the Johnny Cash of American new wave music.

 While the lead single, 'Mexican Radio' is a fun, quirky romp, it is deeply misleading to suggest that the rest of this album follows suit in a similar mood, save for the instrumental 'On Interstate 15,' which nearly passes for an energetic road trip soundtrack to the beach. This reviewer's recommended areas of interest on the album are the mechanized ennui portrayed in 'Factory', and the detached paranoia in songs, 'Look at Their Way' and 'They Don't Want Me.' As I had stated previously, the album is a very cohesive piece of work and is very much untouched in the realm of new wave weirdness. From the album opener, 'Tomorrow''s wayward tightness, the listener is apt to either love or hate this music. If you are on the scan for odd, disaffected songs to absorb, you will be abundantly captivated. The first three tracks on Side A were enough to cement this album into my hall-of-famers in the zombie stratosphere. Give it a spin and do it tomorrow--that seems like a pretty good idea to me!