Ministry - A cyber-punk's nightmares

Ministry is the band of Al Jourgensen, one of the most charismatic and bizarre figures on the current American rock scene, born in Havana, Cuba, and raised in Colorado. Jourgensen's path proves highly varied over the years: synth-pop, funk, heavy metal, industrial, gothic and punk all intersect in his compositions, which always manage to express a murky, underlying unease.

His earliest experiences, during his college years at the University of Illinois, saw him alongside Frank Nardiello (later a member of Thrill Kill Kult) in Special Affect. Then, in 1981, the Ministry project officially came into being. The first step was the recording, in Chicago, of a handful of singles ("Cold Life", "I'm Falling", "Primental") steeped in acidic, mocking synth-pop. The group was soon joined by percussionist Stephen George, who contributed to the Ep Cold Life, still very much in the vein of electronic pop. The debut album by Jourgensen's band, however, was With Sympathy, released in Europe as "Work for Love". A record that alternates catchy pop hooks, atmospheric disco-punk in the vein of Joy Division, and '80s-style funk. The result is far from thrilling, so much so that Jourgensen himself would later disown the album.

It's with Twitch (1986) that Ministry's most successful period actually begins. The album, preceded by a trio of singles ("All Day", "Everyday Is Halloween" and "The Nature of Love"), marks the arrival of a new genre, blending industrial and dance, hardcore and punk into a whirlwind of synthetic rhythms and convulsive electronic effects. A spasmodic, hallucinated kind of music, which at times veers into genuinely cacophonous tours de force.

Jourgensen refines the project, together with new partner Paul Barker, adding explosive riffs and guitar distortion on The Land of Rape and Honey (1988). The lyrics, which at first glance seem like nothing more than furious, violence-laden, misanthropic tirades, actually amount to a profound and bleakly pessimistic reflection on the ever-growing dehumanization of modern society. The world portrayed by this work is one plagued by the tyranny of machines, where human beings themselves have been turned into robots devoid of feeling and emotion.

Musically, Ministry pursue the demolition of the genres most in vogue in the underground of the period: hardcore, with its direct, uncompromising violence, and industrial, its exact opposite, akin to the most cerebral avant-garde, yet also the quintessential technological and "inhuman" genre.

"Stigmata" kicks off with a dirty, brutal, driving cadence, with that "artificial" riff and Jourgensen's filtered vocals sardonically leading the dance; the following "Missing" and "Deity" instead launch into epileptic, lightning-fast, majestic thrash-metal.

The lengthy "Golden Dawn" is a breathtaking ride through the wildest, most desolate stretches of America, seasoned with chaotic samples; "Destruction" is a study in dissonance, made up of frantic off-beats, scattered clangs and terrifying screams; another great masterpiece of sonic (de)construction is "Hizbollah", an orientalizing digression complete with a muezzin's call, creating an atmosphere of disorienting exoticism.

We thus arrive at the title track, with Jourgensen's voice hurling invective over an exhausting rhythm, over yet another dense downpour of samples, over slogans screamed at the top of his lungs: the atmosphere is that of a totalitarian-regime rally. With "You Know What You Are" technology finally takes complete control: here all the sounds, vocals in particular, are deconstructed, chopped up, filtered and utterly warped: the rhythm is carried by a simple, enveloping synth line (Nine Inch Nails owe Ministry a debt in this respect), but what dominates are the extraordinary vocal effects: the lyrics are recited by a chorus of merciless robots, while in the background a mocking laugh stirs alongside a single, isolated human voice desperately screaming the title phrase. On these tracks Ministry manage to set to music the future predicted by writers like Ballard, Dick or William Gibson, standing as the musical standard-bearers of the cyberpunk movement, which in the second half of the '80s was enjoying its moment of greatest glory. "I like using technology," Jourgensen explains, "but I always try to mix it with the visceral power of humanity. Using technology is dangerous, you always have to keep in mind that you're the boss, not it." The fast, highly effective "I Prefer" marks humanity's total surrender ("have you run into the human condition, and i raise the white flag and that's the way i prefer flagellation"), while Jourgensen, finally, immerses himself in the searing neuroses of "Flashback", perhaps the hardest, most violent track on the whole record.

After the hardcore digression of Pailhead (alongside Ian MacKaye of Fugazi), Jourgensen returns to Ministry, bringing in Scotsman Chris Connelly (Finitribe) and William Rieflin (drums). Thus comes The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste (1989), a work that, if anything, is even harsher and bleaker, dominated by the theme of totalitarian society and its dehumanizing mechanisms. Over thrash and hardcore foundations, the group once again grafts on a peculiar taste for noise, relying extensively on sampling techniques. The guitar distortions are once again terrifying, meshing perfectly with the icy synths and the firepower of the drumming. What results is a corrosive sound meant above all to express a sense of revolt and rancor, reinforced by the usual harshness of the lyrics. And the rage explodes immediately in the ferocious scene-setting of "Thieves", poised between rap and metal, and in the raging invective of "Burning Inside". Jourgensen plays the part of a sarcastic, warped crooner on the surreal "Never Believe", while an irresistible groove drives "Cannibal Song", a hammering, hypnotic danse macabre that unfolds through obsessive pulses and deathly choruses, growing ever more relentless. The industrial requiem of "Dream Song" closes the record under the sign of darkness and terror. The album is the (perverse) fruit of Jourgensen's alienated mind, an odyssey through the Dantean circles of a future reign of terror that overwhelms and annihilates the individual. Together with the previous record, it marks the peak of Ministry's visionary cyber-punk, the two works cementing the band's status as the most important American industrial act alongside Nine Inch Nails. "Yes, I think we got very close to our perfect sound," Jourgensen reveals, "but the day I reach the sound I really want, I'll retire and go do the only other job I know how to do, which is washing dishes at Denny's." The influence of Skinny Puppy is particularly evident on this work, to the point that Jourgensen would go on to hire Ogre for the following tour and collaborate, both in the writing and remixing stages, on the album "Rabies", released by the Puppys in 1989. In reality, though, after this record, and after the effervescent, Stooges-like single "Jesus Built My Hot Rod", Ministry's decline would also begin.

Psalm 69 veers toward the most abrasive, apocalyptic heavy metal. The title track unleashes an almost death-metal guitar riff, while the hypnotic "Just One Fix" is another showcase of their venomous industrial sound; much of the record, however, falls short of expectations. And confirming the decline of the Ministry sound is the follow-up, Filth Pig. Recorded with the arrival of an actual drummer, Rey Washam, the album wavers between Metallica ("Crumbs") and Nine Inch Nails ("Fall"), adding here and there nods to Led Zeppelin and Velvet Underground. Jourgensen, meanwhile, dreams up Buck Satan & The 666 Shooters, a parody of country music, but his imagination again appears depleted on The Dark Side Of The Spoon, Ministry's final album, which pokes fun at Pink Floyd's "The Dark Side Of The Moon" without, unfortunately, matching its musical worth.

Meanwhile, Jourgensen as a character unsettles the press and builds his reputation as rock's damned soul. He states that he is "a drug addict, a heroin addict", and when it comes to drugs he offers up statements like: "The only problem I have with drugs is that every now and then they run out", "I use drugs; when they start using me, I might start thinking about quitting" or again: "I don't tell anyone, 'Get high!' I just do it myself, other people have their own lives to live." Together with Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, Al Jourgensen quickly becomes alternative rock's best-known "Mr. Self-Destruction". But what matters is his music. Despite the missteps of recent years, the industrial ferocity and oppressive, almost gothic atmospheres of Ministry have marked a fundamental chapter of American antagonist rock, a mechanical, futuristic reworking of dark-punk's most terrifying ghosts.

In 2003, Ministry return to the fray with Animositisomina, a very harsh record steeped in gut-level rage and a violence that is by now openly "metal". This gives rise to tracks like the opening "Animosity" and the following "Unsung", rich with echoes of Tool, as well as the dark "Piss" and "Lockbox". The sound is as saturated, deafening and explosive as ever: every track unfolds around three simple components: a hammering rhythm, a screamed, filtered and manipulated voice, and a hailstorm of guitar blasts. By now there's little or nothing industrial left: Ministry are to all intents and purposes a metal band, and in that vein Jourgensen still proves capable of churning out masterpieces like "Broken" and "Impossible", two epic, catastrophic tracks that tower above everything else. On the other hand, though, it is painfully clear that the man (with the possible exception of the sole, very long "Leper") is by now chronically short of original ideas.

On Houses Of The Molé (2004) Jourgensen heightens his vein of livid resentment, shouting himself hoarse in political invective that is as frenzied as it is lyrically blunt. Musically, there's nothing significant that's new, and the sound comes across as almost an exaggerated version of the Ministry brand. The lengthy "Worm", the menacing "World" and the grotesque "Worthless" provide the most striking moments on a record that is decidedly "minor" within the band's output.

Without bothering to surprise anyone further (anti-Bush invective having by now become an inseparable trademark of post-9/11 Ministry), on Rio Grande Blood (2006) Mr. Alien crucifies the "warrior" president on the cover, leaving the rest of his body submerged in his beloved barrel of oil.

The tone, then, is as fiercely explicit as it has ever been, on what will probably be remembered as the most political and furious record by the band from Illinois.

The samples from Bush Jr., lifted from his most memorable speeches and slightly tweaked for the occasion, often serve as intros to the tracks, in the manner of a title track, amid guitars as sharp as jackhammers in need of servicing, monolithic basslines, and Al Jourgensen's voice, paved with tar and other less identifiable substances. The industrial legacy only really surfaces in the syncopated march around the third minute, which remains the album's sole overtly industrial moment.

The following, punishing "Señor Peligro" registers another overflowing hardening of the Chicago band's thrash-metal side, once again featuring illustrious guest stars such as bassist Paul Raven (Killing Joke), keyboardist John Bechdel (already with Fear Factory, Prong and Killing Joke) and Joey Jordison (Slipknot, who will play in place of Mark Baker on the world tour). On permanent duty, meanwhile, are Tommy Victor (Danzig, Prong) and Alain's longtime partner, guitarist Mike Scaccia. A line-up of considerable standing, further embellished by contributions from Sgt. Major, Jello Biafra and Liz Constantine.

In the sardonic "Gangreen", a bitter reckoning with the military tactics pushed by Bush and Condoleezza Rice in the "State of the Union" address delivered in early February 2005, Al punctuates the track with mocking, jeering howls, while the drumming and riffing recall the theme of Palpatine's inspections in the "Star Wars" saga.

The indolent, vigorous, devastating "Fear (Is Big Business)", with its Slayer-esque coordinates, ratchets the polemic up to extreme levels, exposing the underground ties between the US president and the oil interests behind the invasion of Afghanistan, with the band's usual oppressive style, stuffed with distorted guitars and speed-metal echoes. On "Lieslieslies", Alien erects a monumental, anthology-worthy post-grunge melody. Pitchshifter echoes pervade the remix of "The Great Satan", a track included on "Rantology", the celebratory album for the band's 25th anniversary released last September. John Bechdel's techno-dance keyboards emerge in the opening of "Yellow Cake", a track that quickly sheds all electronic attitude to fall in line with a pulsing stoner groove. Bechdel again takes center stage in the intro of "Palestina", another standout track, with the rhythm section dusted off from evergreen classics like "Scarecrow", "Just One Fix" and "Stigmata". Friend Jello Biafra, vocalist of the Dead Kennedys and no stranger to collaborations with Ministry, lends his hand to the assault on "Ass Clown", where the samples become more prominent and where a distant kinship with 1990's "In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up" stands out.

A change of scene arrives in the finale, where the East is turned into music on "Khyber Pass" (with desert invocations courtesy of Liz Constantine), a lengthy liturgy whose arabesques defuse the album's convulsive restlessness, finding fitting dilution in the "Full Metal Jacket"-style march sung by Al on the hidden track.

Rio Grande Blood is all of this: violence, outrage, political satire, metal power.

After twenty-seven years spent amid upheavals, stylistic shifts and missteps, Ministry reach the end of the road with The Last Sucker, which closes the circle once and for all on an anti-George Bush trilogy begun in 2005 with Houses Of The Molé and continued on the concept album Rio Grande Blood.

What's surprising, beyond the mere political sloganeering, is the renewed effectiveness of those industrial-metal jaws, which partly bring the ghost of the past back to life. "Let's Go" stitches together tons of twisted rage, exploiting manipulated dialogue samples and Slayer-derived heavy-metal solos. The guitar sounds of "Watch Yourself" are destabilized through electronics, with Jourgensen's invectives left to sink into a morass of cacophonous effects, skewered by the battling forward march of the drums, which keep the enjoyment level fairly high in an otherwise lightweight context.

The prize for the most violent track goes to "The Dick Song", a sort of speed-metal of the future, equipped with riffs that writhe in the grip of a merciless melody. But not everything here is gold: for years now Ministry haven't been able to sustain a full album's worth of ideas, and the runtime of some tracks, like the title track, feels frankly disproportionate to the musical inspiration on offer. Jourgensen is by now a fine producer and less and less of a musician. That said, there's also room for a cover of a Doors classic, "Roadhouse Blues", completely recast in a metal key. And the band must have also absorbed something from their contacts with Jello Biafra, since "Die In A Crash" is the most punk track Jourgensen has ever written (with Fear Factory's Burton C. Bell as guest vocalist). The apocalyptic, two-part closing suite "End Of Days" boasts a pyrotechnic ride that samples US president Dwight D. Eisenhower's 1961 farewell address to the nation, while simultaneously standing as the band's swan song.

Jourgensen has stated he'll record a few covers before moving on to other projects. While we wait to see what the future holds, The Last Sucker turns out to be unexpectedly listenable despite its underlying shallowness.

It seems Ministry are a habit Jourgensen just can't kick, and so now they return on the German label Nuclear Blast with AmeriKKKant, an album clearly centered on the American political situation and critical of Donald Trump. A work that picks up right where the conversation left off, offering vaguely metal sounds, nods to the distant and recent past, and truckloads of politically themed vocal samples: unfortunately the result is decidedly boring and, above all, utterly pointless. The same goes for the following Moral Hygiene (still a cut above its predecessor, though) and Hopiumforthemasses (2024), yet another repetitive jab at capitalism and American society. The best track on this latest effort is a cover of Fad Gadget (the closing "Ricky's Hand"), a track that wouldn't have been out of place even among the EBM drifts of the excellent Twitch (1986). It's a flash in the pan, though, given the generally middling-to-low quality of the rest of the material, starting with the anti-misogyny anthem "B.D.E." (short for big dick energy) or the industrial-metal charge of "Goddamn White Trash", two moments where not even sheer craft can save the day.

"Just Stop Oil" hovers around passable, complete with an ecological message that's well past its sell-by date. Then the axe falls on the Nazis ("Aryan Embarrassment"), on religion (the album's very title is a rather overused quote) and on a series of strictly current-affairs topics that preacher Al Jourgensen is now pushing to the extreme, in a sort of personal white-versus-black war. But fighting one ideology with another ends up flattening the discourse, neutralizing it and rendering it practically harmless. Especially when the megaphone of protest is handed to tracks that border on the embarrassing ("Cult Of Suffering").

Contributions by Emilio Saturnini, Stefano Villa, Davide Pappalardo, Paolo Chemnitz

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