Michael Gira has successfully resurrected Swans in recent years, going beyond a mere reboot. The gravelly visionary has transformed himself into a dark preacher, a man with a mission to extract thunder from the skies and unleash repressed desires from the depths of the collective psyche. 35 years ago, he and Swans were different entities, but even on their 1983 debut album, “Filth,” they had already firmly established the unholy trinity of thunder, violence, and lust.
In the newly released 3xCD edition of “Filth,” Gira’s transformative power is raw and unpredictable. The album emerged in the aftermath of New York’s no wave movement, a scene Gira claims to have disdained, although its influence is unmistakable in “Filth.” The angularity, dissonance, and deliberate irrationality of no wave find their way into tracks like “Stay Here” and “Right Wrong,” which showcase disjointed hostility and bone-crushing, industrialized grooves that infuse the funkiness of the post-punk era with a plastic quality.
“Punishment” plays a significant role in “Filth,” to the extent that sadomasochism is portrayed not as an aberrant perversion, but as an arduous continuum of normalcy and, at times, a state of ecstatic release.
“Punishment” plays a significant role in “Filth,” to the extent that sadomasochism is portrayed not as an aberrant perversion, but as an arduous continuum of normalcy and, at times, a state of ecstatic release. In “Weakling,” the submissive is not belittled; this is not fascist music, despite its unforgiving textures. Instead, it represents a profound inversion of power. Gira bellows through clenched jaws, “You know everything, I forgot how to breathe. You’re touching my chest, when I’m touched, I bleed.” He is not making accusations; he is simultaneously mocking, defiant, reverent, and adversarial, engaging in a contest to outwit his tormentor. It is understandable why Swans and My Bloody Valentine have been hailed as the loudest bands on Earth at different times, as there is a direct connection between the senses-obliterating, wall-of-agony blur of “Filth” and the more challenging moments of “Isn’t Anything.”
The inclusion of two additional discs of bonus material provides valuable context for “Filth,” particularly the four tracks from Swans’ self-titled EP released in 1982. Norman Westberg, a long-standing and current Swans guitarist, had not yet made his debut on “Filth,” and original guitarist Bob Pezzola fails to fully capture the earth-shattering magnitude that Gira would soon achieve. Songs like “Laugh” and the other Swans tracks are thinner and more fragile, appearing as the final breath of no wave rather than a rejection of it. Even Daniel Galli-Duani’s serpentine saxophone skronk reflects this sentiment. Occasionally, they resemble one of the numerous Birthday Party imitators of the time. Nevertheless, they foreshadow the piercing style that Big Black and many others would adopt in the years to come, merging inhuman rhythms and screeching guitars with cataclysmic expressions of futility.
The most exhilarating and enlightening aspect of the entire package is the generous selection of live material included in the reissue of “Filth.” The audience’s confusion and disquiet are palpable through nervous heckling and sparse, almost frozen applause. Westberg’s guitar on a live recording of “Howling Red Sheet” from CBGB is akin to the shriek of a wounded Lovecraftian Elder God, while the intertwined percussion of Roli Mosimann and Jonathan Kane evokes post-apocalyptic tribal rituals and a primordial future. Gira had much more to achieve with Swans, evolving from proto-pigfucker to polished goth-pop, nihilistic drones, and his current symphonies of cosmic transgression and dread. However, with “Filth,” he tore open the Earth with his bloodied and blackened teeth, ready to embark on a new chapter.