Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark Album: “Liberator”

The fact that OMD--or rather, Andy McCluskey--can do his worst and still sound reasonably good, is adequate testimony of OMD's musical competence. This disc is witness to that. It's unlikely that you'll ever bump into an OMD fan (that is, someone who's familiar with OMD's catalog beyond "If You Leave"). But in the rare event that you do, there's an even slimmer chance that you'll find a fan who considers "Liberator" a masterful work of sonic genius. This CD lacks, among other things, the unconventional, innovative elements of "Architecture and Morality," the ethereal splendor of "Organisation," and most disappointingly, the emotional charge evident throughout the first half of OMD's library. Even the immediate predecessor to this disc ("Sugar Tax") with its quasi-sobbing and desperate lyrics beared some semblance to those early gems which proved that not all synthpop bands were unsoulful, vapid white boys. To the contrary, OMD was appropriately recognized within the right circles as something of a musical anamoly: here was evidence that you could, in fact, marry computer commands and synthetic sounds with painfully sincere human emotion and produce something legitimate.

Unfortunately, that sense of pioneering is blatantly absent on "Liberator." If it's possible for great artists to be influenced by lesser-quality sell-outs, this CD would be exhibit A--the mastermind of McCluskey haunted by the ghost of Ace of Base. Songs like "King of Stone," "Love and Hate You," and "Heaven Is" all fall short of OMD's previous standards. Blame all the programming-heavy noises on this album which leave precious little room for ingenuity.

And speaking of noises, it's necessary to address the "instrumentation" on this album. By nature of the definition of synthpop (which is what OMD used to be), you can't clutter up your sound with too many traditional instruments. So it's okay that the liner notes for "Liberator" acknowledge only two "real" instruments for their sparse inclusion, guitar and piano. But if you're going to fill up on synthesized sounds, at least choose something that tastes good (e.g. nearly any B-side from the Pet Shop Boys). Instead, "Liberator" is dance-emphatic with only minimal nods to the original synthpop agenda of invention.

It's not all unbearable though. Standout tracks like "Christine," and the beautifully contemporary take on "Sunday Morning" will remind some discriminate listeners that McCluskey is not helpless without Paul Humphries. Moreover, "Everyday" benefits from a well constructed sequencer track, while "Dream of Me" is pure bliss. So for those of us who can forgive McCluskey for appealing to commercialism, there is some solace in the fact that even a bad OMD album is still...good.

"Liberator" by OMD might sound a little bit off for early day OMD fans, but we have to agree that some songs here are a grade A pop tunes. Songs like "Christine", "Only tears" are very addictive, well anyway try and listen to this CD two or three times and you'll see how it'll grow on you.

With a wide range of musical artistry, Liberator is a solid gem from OMD, songs that you'll want to hear over and over. Some new OMD classics can be found on the album, and no one can deny the catchiness and power of songs like Dollar Girl, Dream of Me, and Heaven Is. While some of OMD sounds trite and bubble-gummy, the duo does do nice things with songs like Christine, All That Glitters, and King of Stone. In all, this can be OMD's best work in the modern era.

This album has a mix of great tunes, forgetable tunes and lousy tunes. "Stand Above Me" and "Dollar Girl" are upbeat and catchy, but "Best Years", and "Christine" are slow, emotional and intensely beautiful. Worth the price of admission alone.

Unfortunately, there's quite a few misses here as well: "King of Stone", "Dream of Me" (Dreck), "Sunday Morning" and "Agnus Dei" are just pretty tired tunes.

The good tunes are great; the bad ones awful. Still, if you make it through to the end you'll be glad you did.

The majority of the songs on this album swerve from banal and trite (Stand Above Me, Everday, Dollar Girl, king of stone and Sunday Morning) to mediocrity like Dream of Me, and The Best Year's of Our Lives. However there are those two songs on this album that are so extraordinarily well crafted, and so gorgeously beautiful that its worth it to purchase despite the mediocrity, and pap that ruins the rest of the album. Christine is downright stunning, with keyboard lines, and synthesizers shimmering like a musical aurora borealis, and lyrics of such grief, and plainative sadness, its impossible to keep oneself from being awestruck that it shares space with sunday morning and stand above me. Glorious. And the concluding piece, only tears, shimmers with beauty, and confidence. One has to wonder what Andy was doing the rest of the album, but in the end, I consider it money wellspent, considering that few songs in my library surpass the beauty of two aforementioned tracks.

However, despite their beauty they can't overcome the musical and lyrical vapidness of the rest of the album-with these two songs, its three stars, without them its a half of star at best. After hearing this album, its quite understandable that Andy decided to retire three years later, with the slightly better swan song, Universal.