SUICIDE AMERICAN SUPREME ALBUM BLAST FIRST!, PLAYGROUND RELEASE: OCTOBER 28, 2002 REVIEW: NOVEMBER 19, 2002

“Suicide never broke up”, Alan Vega insisted when I interviewed him in early 1998. At the time, Blast First’s reissue of their eponymous debut album had finally given it the exposure it had always deserved. Around the same time the duo played their first live shows for ages, but Vega was adamant in his opinion that Suicide had never really ceased operations. His feeling was that the band was almost a greater entity, sometimes forcing him and other half Martin Rev to continue operations.
2002. They haven’t made an album in ten years, and it’s been long since they were starving in the streets of New York, slowly finding their sound through a couple of different line-ups. But however unlikely it is, Vega and Rev still sound like they’re putting their lives at stake for Suicide. “American Supreme” is shockingly good, way more vibrant and sharp than it should be able to be. A collision of meltdown synths, electronic funk and the street punk paranoia that’s never really left them, it’s an overwhelming listen.
That’s not saying it’s flawless. I’ll be the first to admit that the production is slightly thin and tinny, and there are some element here that feel slightly out of touch. I could especially have done without the slight house touches that show up in a couple of places. But the beauty of Suicide is that none of this has any impact on their brilliance. A band this desperate, this full of crawling, twitching black life don’t need perfection. Their flaws only strengthen them, the sum is a million times larger than the parts.
And although he’s now in his mid-50:s, Alan Vega still hollers like no one else, still sounding like an Elvis Presley-possessed crooner back from the dead. And “American Supreme” is his world captured in a kaleidoscope, taking in everything that’s brilliant and sick, awesome and disgusting about American culture of today.

KRISTOFFER NOHEDEN