In Christian mythology, God’s work is perfect, so it cannot be bettered. Tell that to Laibach, who have had another go at their classic album, Opus Dei.
The first part of Opus Dei Revisited finds the Slovenian art pranksters in their Llubljana studio, recording most of the album anew. The second part features their producer, Rico Conning, playing with the original master tapes. The results breathe new life into the material, expanding it and finding new textures. They humble the doctrines of a dozen religions.
The new recordings subvert the iconography of the 1987 Mute album. “Leben heisst Leben” is still a magnificent anthem, but they let it crumble in places like the remnants of the Berlin Wall. There are fragments of the original arrangements, which stand out as prominently as brutalist buildings in the Yugoslav countryside, but there are also echoes of pain from nearly forty years of neoliberalism.
Since the original recording of “Geburt einer Nation,” Laibach have been to North Korea to perform The Sound of Music, soared across the universe, and soundtracked the Nazi base on the dark side of the Moon. Their new take is impressed with all of the tension and drama, refreshed with a travelogue from their trips to the absurd and back again.
“The Great Seal” gets a positively Christmassy makeover, with a thermin and chimes. No one does Laibach quite like Laibach.
Apart from Rico Conning, that is. The producer and engineer made his name with William Orbit and Laurie Mayer in Guerrilla Studios, but he also developed a name for himself working with Depeche Mode, Wire, and Test Dept. Back in the day, he was dispatched by Daniel Miller to work with Laibach in Yugoslavia, taking only a bag of cash and an Akai S900. Looking back, he reflected:
The sessions went well. One day we took a break in the mountains, to enjoy the spectacular scenery. We came upon a four-seater sleigh and without thinking twice jumped into it and plummeted down the mountainside.
That was the beginning of a long relationship with the Slovenian collective. For Opus Dei Revisited, Conning has pulled apart the original spools and put them back together in a way that respects the material while subverting the subversives.
His version of “Leben heisst Leben” turns the Opus track on its head and then on its feet again; using accordian sounds to put the lager back in schlager. The guitar solo turns back time to an age of mullets, squirrel tails, and bandanas tied around acid-washed jeans. Germany has a lot to answer for in history. The judgement of fashion is embedded in the discordant vocals and sounds of crackling fire that consume the track. You won’t know whether to laugh or dance.
There is less doubt with Conning’s reimagined take on “Geburt einer Nation.” He stretches out the vocals and creates for a groove that converts the brass stabs of the original into subtle hooks. It is designer production for the glistening future we inherited from the dreams of the utopians of both East and West.
There is more fun to be had with “How the West Was Won.” In the band’s recording, it maintains a level of subtlety that Conning undoes by turning all of the dials to 11. Laibach has its own origin myth, but here they commit to the flames the Morricone version of the strong, independent white man conquering an empty land. Conning incorporates tropes of Americana from cinema, exposing them to a modern gaze. Decolonise your record collection with Laibach.
The set concludes with a soaring, beautifully-rendered version of “The Great Seal.” It ends with an ambient, gentle lead-out that has the familiar touch of a calming hand on the shoulder of a friend. In a world at war, there is a moment of peace.