Released:  June 17th, 1996

Recorded:  Spring 1996

Genre:  Alternative

Record Label:  Hut / Elevator Music

Duration:  60:35

Producer:  Brad Wood

Personnel

Track Listing

Singles

Why Placebo is One of My Favorites

Sometime during my last couple of years in highschool I went into a major Placebo phase that led me to dig into all corners of their discography.  Although Without You I’m Nothing and Black Market Music would become my favorites, their self titled debut wasn’t too far behind, especially compared to their post-2000’s work which took on a decidedly generic middle-of-the-road sound.  The band has always been a bigger hit overseas with singles charting here and there that never made much of a splash in America, partly because their sound hasn’t ever fully aligned with current trends on this side of the pond.  But that doesn’t make their music any less enjoyable, especially in retrospect.

Placebo is a punk-ish slant on the alternative sound, with rawer production values and more straightforward instrumentation than their later records.  The defining feature behind Placebo has, and probably always will be, Molko’s distinct voice.  It’s ultra-nasal; think Billy Corgan but with more whining and less testicles.  Molko has been fairly open about his bisexuality and his androgynous image ever since the guys made a name for themselves, which I guess has always been something a little tough for American audiences to swallow.  Rock and metal have typically been reserved for the hyper-masculine, although that’s changed a lot since 1996.  So yes, Molko can be a bit dramatic with his boy/girl thing on Placebo, but it’s really the only album where he plays with his persona so much.  In fact, his voice is noticeably higher pitched than on their followup album 2 years later and all subsequent releases.

Some people will run at the slightest hint of a “gay vibe” or gender bending, but for some reason, this didn’t really hit me until long after I’d gotten to know the album.  If anything, it helps give the album character and a life of its own.  He’s decidedly male, and he comes off more as a boy trying to act like a girl rather than a man trying to act like a woman or as anything genuinely feminine.  But he pulls it off and I guess that’s the important part; I attribute it to Europe’s looser ideas towards non-heterosexuals and the fact that Molko likely hasn’t acquired as many hang-ups about his sexuality than a comparable individual in America.

The reason I mention all this is because the album is sex sex sex.  It lets up at times, though it still oozes sex, albeit in a more playful way than the dominance and control issues of Black Market Music.  If Without You I’m Nothing is the breakup album, and Black Market Music is the rebound album, then Placebo is the “single and promiscuous” album, full of reckless abandon; all the meaningless sex from Black Market but without all the baggage from Without You to lug around.

As mentioned, Molko sort of whines his way through these songs, in a semi-cheerful kind of way, not dissimilar to a less aggressive and higher pitched version of a lot of pop punk vocalists.  The guitars and bass are pretty simple throughout, ranging from mid to uptempo with a few catchy lead passages.  The sound is easily approachable by general fans of rock – it’s Molko’s voice that will make or break Placebo depending on the listener.  There’s an urgency here that got lost on future records, as well as a sometimes sad but always optimistic energy coursing through the record.  However, it’s the lyrics that really drew me in and despite the band’s multiple stylistic changes, strong songwriting has always been Molko’s forte.  He’s clever, funny, and so perfectly on some point with some of his observations and feelings – profound even.  I wasn’t sure if I’d still be so impressed, but I’m with him, every step of the way.  In my opinion, Placebo’s stuff was light years beyond the vague lover’s quarrel material permeating most alternative music in the 90s.

“Come Home” starts us off.  It’s easily the must punk-driven track on the album and also contains some of the best drumming as well.  Molko’s girlish vocals cut through the persistent guitar crunches in the closest to shouting that he ever gets.  The song mellows a little for the delicate chorus; Molko’s simple plea for someone to “come home.”

“Teenage Angst” is one of the best songs of Placebo’s career.  The guitar riff is perfect.  It’s slightly distorted, but not quite to the point of fuzz; it retains a lighter, airy quality.  Rhythmically, there’s a lot of punk influence behind this one as well, at least in the verses.  The chorus speaks to/for jaded teenagers with a directness not often found – “Since I was born I started to decay / Now nothing ever, ever goes my way.”  Is that not the very essence of “teenage angst”?  As beautiful as the song is, the band would later perform a slowed down piano-driven version of the song at concerts, turning this anthem into something altogether heartbreaking.

“Bionic” is a simple repetitive song that used to not hold much interest for me, though over time I really got into it.  It’s still repetitive, I didn’t discover any kind of magic hidden inside, it just somehow grew on me.  The lyrics “harder, faster, forever after” drive the song, delivered in an overtly sexual moan/scream, while the more deadpan “none of you can make the grade” expresses the singers ultimate disappointment.

“36 Degrees” supposedly has something to do with sex, but it seems that Molko has been deliberately vague on the subject.  The lyrics here are a little hard to decipher, though I’d lean towards “relationship gone wrong.”  The best part, and one of the best moments on Placebo happens during the bridge as Molko begins his “4 7 2 3 9 8 5 / I gotta breathe to stay alive / And 1 4 2 9 7 8 / feels like I’m gonna suffocate…” And on it goes as a brilliant bit of rhyming and singing.  “36 Degrees” is another one of the albums quicker cuts with unrelenting drums and louder, more fuzzy guitar than most other songs.

“Hang On To Your IQ” gives us a break from the quickened pace of the first 4 tracks.  A somber, midtempo number, calming and slightly solemn lead guitar carries us through.  Molko’s able to drop the girlish whine to an extent and delivers a wafting, almost insouciant performance.  The chimes add a nice touch midway through.

“Nancy Boy” is the song from Placebo to hear, and it’s here Molko lets his freak flag fly.  This mix available on the album is a little loud and (to me) unbalanced, though subsequent mixes scattered about on singles seem to rectify the issue.  Despite the non-stop buzz, it’s still a great song full of energy and a confidently hypersexual narrator.  The opening line says it all – “alcoholic kinda mood, lose my clothes, lose my lube.”  From what I understand, the song hinges on a woman being attracted to Molko’s “nancy boy” presentation of himself.  It’s one of Placebo’s most frantic and noisy pieces and remains one of the band’s most interesting live songs.

“I Know” is unique for featuring Schultzberg on digeridoo, contributing an odd, slightly unsettling feeling to the background.  It would be among better company on Without You, not just because it’s a slower song, but also because its drawn out and more of lamentation than the assertiveness of other tracks.  I like to think of it as an intermission before moving on to the album’s darkest track.

“Bruise Pristine” gets the tempo up and running again, opening with a heavier and darker sounding riff than any track so far.  It chugs along steadily, climaxing at the chorus for what sounds like a “happier” chord progression, yet quickly dips back into minor key territory.  The song continues with aggressive drumming, urgent riffing, and an overall angry vibe.

“Lady of the Flowers” is a dreamy piece, with lyrics too vague for me to feel comfortable analyzing.  Who did who wrong?  Or is it unrequited?  I don’t know.  The song floats around, seemingly aimless, and then we finally get a payoff in the bridge where the guitars crash down and the band gives us something to cling to.

I kind of hate to say it, but the inclusion of “Swallow” was a mistake.  There’s a voice mumbling shit periodically (I don’t know if it’s a sample or the actual lyrics or what) and the music is a mess of experimentation.  It’s formless and unengaging, and I think the guys would’ve been better off closing with the hidden track “HK Farewell” and tucking “Swallow” on the end after a whopping 15 minutes of silence.  Supposedly inspired by an acid trip, “HK Farewell” is a pleasant, almost elevator music-like piece with a bit more character.  It drags on for way too long (7 and a half minutes I think) but there’s a peaceful, serene piano melody during the first few minutes that would’ve closed out Placebo very well.

Placebo isn’t quite mature enough to stand up against some of the best rock albums in history, but it is surprisingly focused and consistent for a debut.  These guys had a knack for integrating unique melodies with loud, but not abrasive guitars.  The music is fast, fun, catchy, and all the little nuances start revealing themselves through repeated listens.  This is one of those albums that sounds like a lot of “other stuff,” but also doesn’t quite sound like “anything else.”  The familiarity makes it easy to approach, and the distinctiveness makes it difficult to pull away.

I would’ve loved to have seen where they went with this sound, though then we might be left without Without You I’m Nothing which would’ve been a travesty.  Placebo pops out of nowhere with a punkish slant on alternative and they really made it their own.  Future albums wouldn’t be nearly as riff-driven or upbeat, leaving their debut as a one of kind gem.  Despite the adult themes, there’s a certain innocence and naiveté that pulls through and makes Placebo extremely enjoyable.  So many records are either sad, or angry, or indifferent, but this one is playful, fun, a celebration even, and as fragile as Molko’s voice.

Written by The Cubist

Other albums from Placebo in this series:

• 1998 – Without You I’m Nothing – Issue #10
• 2000 – Black Market Music – Issue #58-B

Back to The Cubist’s 90’s Albums