On July 16th of this year, artist and singer Alan Vega died at the age of 78. It was announced on former Black Flag singer Henry Rollins’s website that Vega has passed away in his sleep.
Alan Vega is best known as the front-man of the pioneering electropunk duo Suicide, named after the title of a Ghost Rider comic. With his partner Martin Rev, Suicide was formed in the early 1970s. Despite being one of the first purely electronic bands, they often performed alongside early punk groups like the New York Dolls. Suicide was even one of the first bands to describe themselves with the label “punk.”
Even in the early punk rock scene, Suicide were misfits. Rev’s eerie, minimalistic electronic music behind Vega’s rockabilly style singing infused with moaning, yelping, and screaming was shocking. The way Vega often flailed around stage whipping a motorcycle chain didn’t do much to endear them to the audience either. Crowds would often walk out, boo them off stage, or even get into fights with Vega.
Despite the hostile reaction, Rev and Vega kept on going. In 1977, Suicide released their self-titled album. Just as their shows were panned by audiences, the album was panned by most critics at the time. Over the years, however, many have come to regard the album as a classic, myself included.
The album opens with the menacing but extremely catchy “Ghost Rider,” a song about the comic book character. I recall a presentation I gave back in a college on 1970s electronic music. When I was discussing Suicide, I played this song. I saw several people in the audience moving or tapping their feet to it.
As catchy as “Ghost Rider” is, it wasn’t the single released for the album. That would be the song “Cheree.” This makes sense, as it’s probably the most accessible song on the LP. Even then, the version released was more polished and complex sounding than the album version. No surprise, it didn’t chart at all.
The most famous song, and the one regarded as Suicide’s masterpiece, is the ten minute “Frankie Teardrop.” Over the rattling drums and the droning primitive synths, Vega sings the story of a 20-year-old factory worker. He nervously tells of Frankie’s struggles to feed his wife and child. Eventually, Frankie is pushed to the edge, kills his family, and then himself. Vega’s screams as he gets to this part of this story are so frightening and real, you’d swear someone had actually planted an axe in his back as he was recording. Even as many times as I’ve listened to this album, I still get knots in my stomach at those screams.
Starting with their second album (also self-titled), Suicide moved toward a more accessible synthpop direction. The first track off this album is called “Diamonds, Fur Coat, Champagne” to give you idea of what they were going for. Rev and Vega continued working together off and on, releasing a new Suicide album as recently as 2002. While basically everything after their first album has its moments, in my opinion they peaked early. I’ve not heard anything that released I would call as good as that first release.
Vega was originally an artist, and continued to pursue that, as well as releasing solo works. His solo albums, to no surprise, were more straightforward rockabilly with some hints of the electronic production of Suicide. His first two albums, a self-titled one and Collision Drive, are actually both solid albums. They lack the anger and menace of early suicide, but are still very enjoyable. The first track of his first album, “Jukebox Babe,” comes close to matching the heights achieved in “Ghost Rider.”
In 2012, Alan Vega had a stroke. He effectively decided to retire from music to focus on his artwork. Earlier this year, he made a brief return to contribute vocals to an album by French singer Christophe. This would prove to be the last thing he ever did musically.
It seems ironic that a singer as confrontational as Vega, who sang for a band called Suicide, should die peacefully in his sleep. In the 70s, Vega was a freak among freaks. Along with Martin Rev, he created music that still sounds well ahead of its time, that still shocks and alienates many. I honestly don’t know if there will ever be another like him.
Frankie’s lying in hell.
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