Spread over 10 tracks, Tactical Pagan showcases a breadth of sonic ideas, from spoken word interludes and pulsating kick drums to powerful subharmonics, most of which remind me of those heady days of warehouse parties that then later became codified and commercialized as raves. The sound sources here are sparse, their mixing uncomplicated, and all move decidedly downbeat in their own way. The second track, "Mercury Eats Gold", opens with a wicked bass line, modulated by pulse width, yet another technical invention of the era, while mixing in some lightly Eastern chants. "Personal Surveillance" is the bubbliest of the bunch, with classic 80s synth filtering and sequenced beats, and then comes the hollowed-out thump of "State Curfew", punctuated by plucked electric bass notes, ominous and nostalgic at the same time. "Looking for Weapons" has an echo the size of an old industrial building, bombed out and rapturous, reminiscent of the context in which listeners might have heard these post-apocalyptic soundtracks of yesteryear. Whether or not it is intended as such, the eerie openness and dark character of Tactical Pagan feels more like a wake-up call than a piece of remembered past, nostalgic perhaps for the sonic landscape, sure, but with it the inbred skepticism around power and outside control – the 80s in a nut shell.

 

Fans of Swan's other projects, Godflehsh, Broadrick's many solo endeavors, and what was known at the time as warehouse music, will certainly enjoy the offerings on Tactical Pagan. Others with a morbid fascination for 1984 and dark electronica should feel right at home in the margins of the societies of control, when they still had margins.