The Art of Walking

Pere Ubu had always sounded as though the normal rules of a rock band were provisional, and The Art of Walking tests that idea more aggressively than most. Their fourth studio album followed the departure of founding guitarist Tom Herman and a brief disbanding, circumstances that might have pushed another group towards consolidation. Instead, Pere Ubu returned with Mayo Thompson of the Red Krayola on guitar and made a record that treats instability as creative material.

The story of Thompson’s recruitment is suitably off-centre. David Thomas and synthesiser player Allen Ravenstine attended a Talking Heads concert after the split; Thomas remarked that Pere Ubu had been better, and Ravenstine’s response was simply to suggest Mayo Thompson. The reconfigured group recorded The Art of Walking in January 1980 at Suma in Painesville, Ohio, with Paul Hamann producing. Released by Rough Trade that June, it sits firmly in the experimental end of post-punk, although even that label can feel too tidy for music this wilfully awkward.

Rhythm here is often something to trip over rather than settle into. Guitar parts scrape against keyboards and electronic interruptions; Thomas’s voice can sound conversational, panicked, comic or accusatory within a few lines. The album is sparse enough that odd details stand exposed, which makes the band’s choices feel especially deliberate. Instead of filling space with conventional rock weight, Pere Ubu leave gaps in which a synthesiser noise or clipped guitar figure can become as important as a riff.

There is not a grand narrative needed to enjoy The Art of Walking. Its pleasure comes from hearing musicians question their own habits in real time. Thompson’s arrival changes the chemistry without erasing the group’s identity, and the album’s rough edges are part of the invitation. Let the first listen feel strange. On subsequent plays, patterns emerge: repeated rhythmic shapes, pockets of melody and an eccentric logic connecting sounds that initially appear unrelated. Pere Ubu make discomfort playful, and that is far more interesting than simply being difficult for difficulty’s sake.