What turned out to be
Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine's shortest album, at a mere 36 minutes, was also its most commercially successful, debuting in the U.K. at number one and confirming the band as a massive draw. Unfortunately for the duo, things would never be quite the same again, with subsequent releases first lost in the post-grunge fallout and then more radically in the major zeitgeist shift to Britpop. With 1992, though, their shouldn't-succeed-but-still-does combination of synthesizer/rock fanfares -- opening instrumental "1993" is particularly brilliant at this, playing up the sense of artificial bombast the rest of the album relentlessly critiques -- pun-heavy but still empathetic lyrics and tunefulness works perfectly. The European Union flag providing the cover and title refers to the then-groundbreaking fusion of governments and policies in the continent, but
Carter's appropriately sharp dedication -- "to our friends in 'Yugoslavia'," as that conflict spiralled out of control -- shows where the album's questioning mindset was aimed. While lead single "The Only Living Boy in New Cross" was a bit anthemic-
Carter-by-numbers, the brilliant,
Spinal Tap-sampling pop roar of "Do Re Me, So Far So Good" and a closing cover of the Man of La Mancha standard "The Impossible Dream" both were deserved standouts. Equally cutting and affecting tracks cropped up throughout -- "England" is a brilliant example, portraying a totally gutted country through the eyes of someone on the losing end of things. Accompanied by traditional, folky instrumentation, it's a calm but pointed vivisection of a place practically not worth it anymore. Perhaps the sleeper cut is "While You Were Out," which underneath all the references to being burned as a witch for playing punk rock or the like is a heartfelt call from one person to another, just to get back in touch. ~ Ned Raggett