“The second of two in a row from John Cage’s rather intense Sabotage/Live is a sailor’s tale of sorts. It starts as an instrumental meander perhaps evoking unsettled seas, then gets deadly serious as the singing creeps in. No, I don’t think Peter Pan’s involved, unless he’s the one that slipped the laudanum into the Captain’s rum. For a fever dream it is, apparently driven by the evils British Colonial India. The journey is long, with treasures along the way, madness at the end.” (Philip Random)
John Cale being the tall, brooding, avant-Welsh part of the Velvet Underground sound that changed everything forever – the man who brought the white light to the white heat, did dangerous things with his viola among other noise crimes. But he was gone from the Velvets by 1970, pursuing a solo (and) producing career that seemed to get him wherever he felt like going. In 1979, this meant a live album that was as hard as punk, but tougher, more seasoned. Like the greedy, full-on call to war of Mercenaries, monstrous and strong, and yes, the very definition of nihilistic. But in a good way.