Boomkat Product Review:
BEB at the apex of their game with a first ever vinyl reissue of Caroline K’s quintessentially British industrial slab, Now Wait For Last Year (1985), remastered and presented in conjunction with Austria’s Klanggalerie, who have already given it two CD reissues (2010 / 2015).
This is a facsimile reissue of the original LP, no extra tracks, with the strikingly austere grey cover depicting its creator, Caroline K, pursed and averting her gaze from onlookers. Just from that image, it’s the sort of LP you’d be instantly drawn to in the racks - if you were incredibly lucky enough to find it, that is - before being greeted by the kind of drones that stare right past you, along with the sort of proto-techno pieces that bring goths flitting to the ‘floor like laundry hung on a stormy night.
Taking its title from a Philip K Dick sci-fi about drug-induced time-travel, Now Wait For Last Year was Caroline’s first and only solo album, released on the Earthly Delights label in 1987 by Nigel Ayers, her bandmate in pioneering British industrial group Nocturnal Emissions, who also ran the pivotal Sterile Records label as home to the likes of SPK, M.B. and Lustmord from the late ’70s onwards.
Autumnal in pallor, and enchanted with an eldritch sense of decayed romance, the album exists at once inside and out of its era, cryogenically suspended somewhere in the midst of Chris Carter’s The Space Between (1980), Wendy Carlos’ A Clockwork Orange (1972) soundtrack, and the coldest, cinematic strains of UK synth music and earliest Detroit techno, rendering a vibe as clammily close and limpidly plasmic at it is elusive, poised and spectral.
It’s exactly the sort of record that justifies shutting yourself away from the world and falling headlong into a melancholy reverie, much as the rest of the Blackest Ever Black catalogue, where it has already appeared in the label’s first mixtape, A Scold’s Bridle and now takes a rightful place among their cobweb of anachronistic references and parallel dimensions. Shiveringly strong stuff. Unmissable, even.