Scene: The end of my first year at university (1982). I had recently struck up a friendship with Lewis, who I subsequently went on to flatshare with in London and who, along with his delightful partner Persephone has done me the honour of editing a novel I’ve written. All of that was in the future.
Late one night, we found ourselves in my room, listening to my cassette of Entertainment!, and playing a game of Owzthat. We had chosen two teams of musicians to play each other. (This was how we entertained ourselves back then. No Tiktok.) His team included (from memory) Richard Thompson, Syd Barrett and Jimi Hendrix. Mine Ian Curtis, Billy Mackenzie – and Stephen Mallinder. Lewis was unfamiliar with the latter name, so I told him a bit about Cabaret Voltaire and put on Red Mecca which he found intriguing. Lewis has actually always been far more broadminded than me when it comes to music – Persephone is a classical violinist, in fact.
He recalled a couple of years previously going to see (I think) Pink Floyd do their Wall thing and bumping into his friend on the Tube who, conversely, was on his way to see Cabaret Voltaire. It seemed, in some way, symbolic.
I think he was right. Pink Floyd were innovators in their time. In 1982 Cabaret Voltaire were perhaps where Pink Floyd were pre Dark Side of the Moon. Unlike the Floyd they always remained on the fringes of popularity and mainstream success. But the Cabs’ influence, in everything from industrial music to house, techno, ambient and beyond is, I think, immeasurable.
The Fall, Joy Division, PIL, Josef K, Wire, Gang of Four, Young Marble Giants: those post-punk bands cast a long and benevolent shadow, and we must include in that pantheon the name of Cabaret Voltaire. Challenging, even confrontational, but always visionary.
Now one of the three titans who founded the Cabs back in their Sheffield bedrooms in 1973 has departed. Richard H Kirk, we salute you. What a legacy you have left us.
