Review: Scott Walker – Tilt (1995)

Tilt is Scott Walker’s 12th solo album.

The story of Scott Walker, aka Noel Scott Engel (1943–2019), is one of the most interesting in popular music. Born in Ohio, Walker moved to California with his mother in the 1950s, where he became a child actor. As he grew older, Walker became interested in experimental jazz, European New Wave cinema, and beat poetry.

In 1964, Walker founded The Walker Brothers with John Maus and Gary Leeds, which was practically the boy band of its time. The Walker Brothers’ polished orchestral pop was aimed especially at young girls who idolized their idols passionately. The Walker Brothers did not achieve real popularity until the trio moved to London in the mid-1960s. Led by Scott Walker’s golden baritone voice, The Walker Brothers’ popularity briefly rivaled even that of The Beatles. However, Walker was always reluctant to be a pop idol and never felt completely comfortable in front of cameras or admiring fans.

Always hiding behind dark sunglasses, Walker began his solo career in 1967. Soon, his music began to feature darker themes that alienated teenage audiences, with more experimental orchestrations and bold lyrics in the form of Jacques Brel covers. Scott 2 (1968) and Scott 3 (1969) sold reasonably well, but Scott 4 (1969), the first album consisting solely of Walker’s own compositions, was a huge flop. Inspired by the works of Kafka, Bergman, and Camus, Scott 4 was definitely the best album Walker had released so far, but his fans clearly couldn’t keep up with their idol’s evolution.

It was the beginning of the years when everything went wrong. The quality of Walker’s albums declined rapidly, and he has admitted that he only made them because he was bound by his record contract and numbed by alcohol. After several completely forgettable easy listening and country albums, Walker’s career was in tatters by 1975, at which point the revival of The Walker Brothers took place.

The first two albums of the new era, No Regrets (1975) and Lines (1976), did not contain a single Walker composition, and the albums failed to attract much positive attention, nor were the sales figures particularly flattering. Then something interesting happened. Released in 1978, Nite Flights left behind country and polished pop and introduced a completely new style. Half of the music on the album was composed by Walker, and the other half was written by Maus and Leeds. Walker’s songs in particular were strongly reminiscent of David Bowie’s so-called Berlin trilogy in terms of style. In particular, the dark and oppressive ”The Electrician,” which dealt with state torture, was a harbinger of Walker’s future in the avant-garde.

The tangible feeling on Night Flights is a contradictory impression of giving up on the one hand and desperate belief in a new beginning on the other. Walker had finally lost his faith in pop stardom and, against all expectations, was reaching out in a completely new direction. In the short term, however, Night Flights was a dead end. The album did attract positive attention from the music press for the first time in a long time, but it sold poorly. The road rose again. The Walker Brothers broke up and Walker no longer had a record deal. Scott Walker disappeared from the music business. And where did he disappear to? According to some reports, to the bottom of a bottle.

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In 1981, Julian Cope curated a compilation album entitled Fire Escape in the Sky: The Godlike Genius of Scott Walker, which was followed by a couple of other compilations focusing on Walker’s career. These albums sold well and brought Walker back into the spotlight after a long absence. This caught the attention of Virgin Records. Virgin signed Walker to a long-term record deal. However, the first (and ultimately only) fruit of the deal did not appear until 1984, when Walker’s 12th studio album, Climate Of Hunter, hit the stores.

Climate Of Hunter was more or less a direct continuation of the style established by ”The Electrician.” The avant-garde aspect was perhaps emphasized a little more, but the music was still quite easy to listen to, and the drums in particular locked it into a 1980s pop sound.

Climate Of Hunter received good reviews but was another commercial disaster, selling only 10,000 copies. Virgin did not give up, however. Perhaps this was partly because there were numerous famous musicians waiting in line to collaborate with Walker.

Work on the next album began, produced by Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois. Robert Fripp was hired as guitarist. However, Walker quickly fell out with Lanois. Lanois was fired, and at this point Eno also lost interest and left the project. In the end, the entire project was canceled when Walker and Virgin disagreed on the recording budget for the symphony orchestra. Those who have heard the recordings describe the material as brilliant, but it has never been released to the public. According to legend, Walker threw the master tapes into the Thames.

At this point, the contract with Virgin was terminated and Walker was once again left with nothing. At this point, at the latest, a picture begins to emerge of a man who had decided to masochistically sabotage himself. Or, from a slightly more positive angle, it can also be seen that this is the Stanley Kubrick of music, who, after the compromises of the 1970s, was ready to work only and exclusively on his own terms. Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between.

”It’s a truly brilliant record and I’m really proud to have been involved. It’s a really difficult album to listen to – very dense…”

David Rhodes

Walker disappeared from the music scene again for several years. At some point during this hiatus, Walker’s manager asked him what he was up to these days. The answer was: painting. This led to a follow-up question: watercolors or oil paintings? Walls, Walker replied. Walker supported himself during his hiatus by doing renovation work and interior design. He also studied art history.

In 1993, Walker wrote lyrics to a composition by Goran Bregović, which was titled ”Man From Reno.” The song ended up in the film Toxic Affair, which in turn led to a recording contract with the small record label Fontana.

Rumors about Walker’s new album began circulating a couple of years before its release. However, the production process was long and apparently painful. Most of the music had already been composed in 1991–1992. ”Manhattan” was written as early as 1987. Walker once again hired Peter Walsh, who had worked on Climate Of Hunter, as producer. Walsh and Walker’s collaboration clearly worked well, as Tilt, recorded at RAK and Townhouse studios, sounds fantastic and its sound design is first-rate.

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Climate Of Hunter was certainly strange music, but it was still possible, at least in a broad sense, to interpret it as pop music. Tilt operates in a completely different sphere. Tilt is definitely not pop music, nor can it be called progressive rock, because its music does not really rock at any point. Instead of rock or jazz, Walker seems to draw inspiration specifically from 20th-century European art music. Obvious role models include modernists such as Krzysztof Penderecki and György Ligeti, who often built their music on atonally bubbling clusters, but did not completely reject traditional Western harmony. Penderecki and Ligeti did not use strict serialism in their music, which makes them natural role models for Walker, who seems to operate intuitively within the avant-garde aesthetic.

However, Walker’s new style is by no means a direct copy of any other avant-garde composer. This is ensured by Walker’s unique vocals, which continue to play a central role. Walker’s previously golden baritone now exudes a new kind of coldness. The voice is deliberately thinner. In a way, it is more ghostly. Paradoxically, the voice mixed on the surface is very emotional, but at the same time it seems distant. It is as if everything is happening through a kind of veil. Or as if the emotions are only being acted out. Very skillfully acted out, but still. I don’t mean this as a criticism at all. On the contrary. This artificiality adds a fascinating extra layer to everything. The central role of Walker’s vocals also brings to mind the lieder. Walker does not sing in the style of a trained classical singer, but his theatrical voice, combined with the through-composed, constantly changing music that avoids refrains, creates the impression of a modern lied.

Tilt’s instrumentation consists of a combination of a symphony orchestra, individual classical instruments, and electronic instruments. The instrumentation varies from song to song, and the entire palette is never brought to bear at any point; instead, the music lives on a very pared-down instrumentation at times. The core band consists of Ian Thomas (drums), John Giblin (bass guitar), Brian Gascoigne (keyboards) and David Rhodes (guitars). In total, dozens of musicians play on the album. The record label Fontana deserves great credit for its courage in investing in such strange and difficult music. Tilt was certainly not a cheap album to make. However, Walker has said that although the album took a long time to make, the studio work was always efficient and disciplined. There was no need to search and experiment in the studio because Walker knew exactly what he wanted.

Walker’s modern avant-garde songs are usually built on Tilt with slow tempos and nightmarishly buzzing and hissing sound design. Although Walker is American, the overall mood of the album is very European. Walker’s lyrics do not paint a very bright picture of the man’s state of mind. The lyrics deal with topics such as the murder of Pier Paolo Pasolini, torture, the first Gulf War, the Holocaust, and Nazi trials. The lyrics are at times complex and elliptically assertive. It is sometimes difficult to grasp what Walker really means with his lyrics, but they consistently succeed in evoking a restless mood. When asked, Walker has stated that he believes it is possible for the listener to fully understand what he meant when he wrote the lyrics, so there is no nonsense on the album.

The album kicks off dramatically with the six-and-a-half-minute ”Farmer In The City.” Inspired by the murder of film director Pier Paolo Pasolini, ”Farmer In The City” is a cold, stark anthem and represents the easiest track on the album. It was also the first single released from the album. There are no choruses to speak of on this track, but here and there, throughout the baroque-themed music, echoes a sinister and cryptic recitation: ”Do I hear 21, 21, 21?”.

Walker’s vocal work is magnificent and rich in tone. However, the emotion conveyed from one song to the next is clearly horror. Some inexplicable existential horror seems to seep from one verse to the next. It is extremely interesting that Walker has said that he sang all the vocals in one take. This was partly to add a more authentic sense of horror that stems from the possibility of the vocal performance failing.

As a side note, it is somewhat surprising that Robert Plant has performed ”Farmer In The City” live. The YouTube version I saw was not particularly impressive, but Plant deserves credit for trying!

Do I hear 21, 21, 21?
I’ll give you 21, 21, 21
Do I hear 21, 21, 21?
I’ll give you 21, 21, 21

If ”Farmer In The City” was a soft landing in the world of Tilt, then ”The Cockfighter,” with its lyrics touching on the Holocaust and the trial of Adolf Eichmann, presents its different shades in a more comprehensive way.

Amidst vague rumblings and Walker’s quiet whispers and howls, ”The Cockfighter” explodes into a percussive nightmare, shifting unpredictably between extremely quiet, eerie passages and sections that hit you like a punch in the gut. Extreme dynamic shifts are a central part of the album’s style.

One of the most striking elements of the song is the alarm siren-like sound that pierces through the rest of the music in an atonal and extremely disturbing manner. However, the insect-like rustling and hissing percussion is also something quite unique to hear. The song, with its strange sounds, also showcases the ”industrial” side of the album, which may have been slightly exaggerated in some reviews. Admittedly, the violent rhythms here and there bring to mind the industrial rock genre that became very popular around that time, led by Nine Inch Nails (Walker was a fan, as far as I know). However, there is a clear difference in that, in Walker’s case, all the rhythms are played by hand. In ”The Cockfighter,” three different percussionists were used to create the industrial noise.

The third track, ”Bouncer See Bouncer…,” represents the most minimalist side of the album. The overall instrumentation of Tilt is very rich, but Walker doses it sparingly from one song to the next. Each song is built on a completely new soundscape, and almost every song has its own ”lead instrument.” In the case of ”Bouncer See Bouncer…,” it is the bass drum. Quiet animal cries here and there and a constant small bell-like ringing create a nightmarish atmosphere. And in the middle of it all, a lone bass drum beats stubbornly. However, the most prominent sound in the mix is Scott Walker’s anguished voice, the only harmonious element in the song.

The leading instrument in ”Manhattan” is the majestic pipe organ of Methodist Central Hall. At times, the organ suddenly stops and the minimalist rhythms of the tom-toms take over. An electric guitar makes atonal stabs here and there, and Giblin’s softly sounding fretless bass guitar brings more harmonious tones. Even the concertina gets to play a funny little melody until the cymbal-less drums take over again alongside Walker’s strongly vibrato-laden vocals.

In the background of ”Face On Breast”, an irregular and dry rhythm creates a nervous atmosphere, making it difficult to determine which instrument was used to create it. A whining and wailing electric guitar snakes its way through the song. The pounding stops and is replaced by a slightly more traditional rhythm. The electric guitar drones and the soundscape is interrupted by nightmarish little noises. The bass guitar takes over the nervous rhythm. The bass and drums seem to be in constant conflict with each other.

Starting with a charming ethnic woodwind melody, ”Bolivia ’95” is one of those songs that has a kind of chorus. Or at least a refrain that repeats throughout the song. Apparently, the phrase ”Lemon Bloody Cola,” which recurs in a song about torture, refers to the toxicity of American imperialism. The song is introduced by a gentle guitar riff and a lonely bass drum, until Walker’s powerful voice takes over. Percussion clatters and rattles in the background. The bass drum returns with a single beat, and Walker sighs like a ghost from beyond the grave, uttering the totemic words ”Lemon Bloody Cola.” The tempo quickens, the electric guitar buzzes powerfully, and the drums beat almost like a rock band. ”Bolivia ’95” is a truly strange song, but Walker would never again come this close to pop music.

Hey you
Hey you
This isn’t through
Opiate me
Just for
Me
With my
Babaloo
please don’t you laugh?
Manos arriba bien
again and again
Again and again
Lemon Bloody Cola
Lemon Bloody Cola
Lemon Bloody Cola
gonna sponge you down
Gonna sponge you down
I journey tonight I’m a saint
To stand on this straw floor
The tiles speckling
Darker and darker
Around my feet

”Patriot (a single)” begins ethereally beautiful. The floating and crackling string patterns seem to describe flying. Judging by the song’s title, the flight of a Patriot missile. The strings’ glide turns into an increasingly ominous crackling sound that finally breaks off, vibrating tremulously. This is followed by a truly strange section in which a piccolo flute plays a funny little melody, accompanied by a lonely bass drum, while Walker mumbles something indistinct. The strings rise slowly again, now accompanied by a melodic bass guitar and Walker singing heartbreakingly beautifully about paralyzed fingers. The music rises to another seething crescendo, with Walker singing with overwhelming power, before returning to the strange piccolo episode. ”Patriot (a single)” is a fascinating and, at the same time, infuriatingly disjointed experience.

Cripple fingers hit the muezzin yells
some had Columbine some had specks
Cripple fingers hit the rounds of shells
some had clinging vine some had specks

The rocking title track ”Tilt” begins as a satire on country music. Walker sings gallantly about a strong man of the West, but eventually both the vocals and the music take on a more desperate tone. However, the drums keep the music moving in some way, and this time there is a kind of connection to rock music in the music. There are even two guitar solos of a sort. Sure, the solos are dissonant and strange, but still!

He was so strong
He was so bold
When they made him
They broke the mold
If he heads this way
When the moon is slow
Come over and pray
They’ll turn the buffalo
They’ll turn the buffalo

The last track on the album, ”Rosary,” is a Walker solo. He accompanies himself on a wandering baritone guitar and sings in a melancholic, almost pleading voice. After all the abstract world-weariness, we move to a more personal level. ”Rosary” seems like the desperate attempt of an orgasm addict to change his ways.

Cum mornings
My beads on a face
A thread
A thong

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It would be an exaggeration to claim that Tilt is a completely unexpected turn in Scott Walker’s career. There have been signs of this for decades, but nevertheless, this is one of the biggest stylistic leaps any pop artist has ever made. On Tilt, Walker strips away the last remnants of his pop background and throws himself wholeheartedly into the avant-garde. Best of all, Walker’s vision of the avant-garde is highly original and, despite certain influences, has no clear historical parallel. The album title ”Tilt” is a clear hint, but it feels like an understatement. Tilt doesn’t just tilt a building, it kicks it down and builds something completely new and unprecedented from the ruins.

Tilt marked the beginning of a whole new era in Walker’s career, leading to a masterful ”trilogy” (in Walker’s own words) that took almost 20 years to complete. The Drift (2006) and Bish Bosch (2012) are also amazing albums, but my personal favorite is Tilt, where Walker explores completely new and unique territory for the first time.

Best tracks: ”Farmer in the City Remembering Pasolini)”, ”The Cockfighter”, ”Face On A Breast”, ”Tilt”

Author: JANNE YLIRUUSI

Rating: 5 out of 5.

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Tracks

  1. ”Farmer in the City Remembering Pasolini)” 6:38
  2. ”The Cockfighter” 6:01
  3. ”Bouncer See Bouncer…” 8:50
  4. ”Manhattan (flȇrdelē’)” 6:05
  5. ”Face on Breast” 5:15
  6. ”Bolivia ’95” 7:44
  7. ”Patriot (A single)” 8:28
  8. ”Tilt” 5:13
  9. ”Rosary” 2:41

Musicians

Scott Walker: vocals, flutes, guitar (”Rosary”) Ian Thomas: drums John Giblin: bass guitar Brian Gascoigne: keyboards, celesta, flutes David Rhodes: guitars Sinfonia of London: strings Elizabeth Kenny: guitarrone Roy Carter: oboe Hugh Burns: guitar Alasdair Malloy: percussion Louis Jardim: percussion Jonathan Snowden: flutes Andy Findon: bass flute Jim Gregory: bass flute Roy Jowitt: clarinet Andrew Cronshaw: concertina, horns, ba-wu flute Colin Pulbrook: Hammond organ Peter Walsh: pipes Ian Thomas: ”bass drum on lap and kit simultaneously” Greg Knowles: cimbalom John Barclay: trumpets Ian Thomas: military bass drum and cymbals.

Producer: Scott Walker, Peter Walsh
Label: Fontana

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