Music, Martinis And Misanthropy must be one of the most gleefully provocative, offensive and irreverent, yet also relatable and fun albums ever. It’s enfant terrible Boyd Rice, joined by friends, at his prime at least as far as his humorously serious, or seriously humorous, oeuvre goes.

And what friends he’s joined by on this album! Douglas P. of Death In June on acoustic guitar, Tony Wakeford of Sol Invictus on bass, Michael Moynihan of Blood Axis on drums, and Rose McDowall of Strawberry Switchblade etc. on guitar and backing vocals. This album, originally released in 1990, is a veritable who’s who of neofolk.

The album consists largely of Rice’s spoken word tirades upon a backing of rudimentary neofolk tracks or sound collages. The music isn’t throwaway, but neither are the compositions fully fleshed out songs. It’s obvious where the focus is: Rice. He orates against stupid people, modernism, modern society, humanism, pacifism and egalitarianism, among other things. With his calm, charismatic voice and clear enunciation, he lays down his law which, in itself, is probably not very agreeable to most – but his way of doing it is entertaining (see People) and not infrequently thought-provoking.

I mean, take aforementioned People. Who among us has not thought along those very same lines more than once when stuck on the bus or subway or a crowded shopping centre? Who among us has not visited Disneyland or some similar banal, tepid hellhole, and thought “this is Hell” only to realize it’s nothing but a condensed version of the world around us? Or looked at the sorry state of culture and the arts in mainstream society, and the endless babble of “well-intentioned” fools, and not thought, As For The Fools…

Boyd Rice makes elitism and disdain for your fellow man relatable. And, of course, keeps everything wildly incorrect. How else?

I’m sure I’m not the only one for whom this was one of those albums that served as an introduction to neofolk. And as such, it certainly throws at the listener with an unflinching gaze and a mischievous glint all of the questionable lyrical content that neofolk is so often criticized for. Of course, Boyd Rice being Boyd Rice, one shouldn’t take the album with too much face value – but then again, not too little, either. And that’s part and parcel of why Rice is such a fascinating character and artist: one can never be sure when he’s being entirely serious, and when he’s not being serious, just what he means by it.

In other words, this album isn’t one of those that presents ideas neatly pre-chewed and digested, slogans ready to be adopted as the listener’s own. Instead, it’s left for the listener to mull the lyrical content over and come to their own conclusions and interpretations. I suppose it can be a bit of an uneasy experience, at least if one finds what Rice is saying tasteless but still oddly enticing. I reiterate: just listen to People and see if you don’t agree. Just a bit, at least.

This is a veritable neofolk classic. Maybe not so much for the music, but rather the beautifully irreverent attitude, the mischievously incorrect lyrics, and the possibly misleading straight face they’re delivered with. Or maybe there’s nothing misleading about this album at all. Who knows?

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In From The Vaults we take a dive into the record collection at Only Death Is Real HQ and write about about items of iconic stature or personal significance; rarities and oddities from the archives; obscure gems that deserve more attention; classics of yore deserving of a moment in the limelight; and so on.