Make Up Sleeve
Live shot TRACKS:

1.Spoken Intro
2.Prelude to Comedown/Can I Hear U say "Yea"
3.Blue is Beautiful
4.At the Tone...(The time will be)
5.We Can't Be Contained
6.Gospel 2000
7.Vs.Culture
8.We're Having A Baby
9.Make Up Is: Lies
10.R U A Believer
11.The Final Comedown
12.Don't Mind The MIND
13.(Here Comes) The Judge



MAKE-UP:"Gospel music"..."Sound Verite"...."Liberation theology" or "vacant Yeh-Yeh music"?..Spongers?..Parasites?..Con-men (and ladies)? Bohemians? (To whom Diderot exclaimed "Oh madman, maddest of madmen, how does it happen that in your wretched head there are so many true ideas along with so many absurdities?")

I saw MAKE-UP for the first time at the Mann-Hole where the majority of the audience were professional socialogists and critics with complimentary tickets from the record and radio industry. They didn't like the group much, doubtless because MAKE-UP's form and content did not correspond to the prototype obtained through the methodical and condescending surveys sponsored by those institutions. Surveys engineered to guide their marketing strategies into the fallow minds of that mythical and much-sought after young mainstream.

A leading magazine critic was heard to cry out: "These are not the symbols which the market responds to, nor is the band composed of the archtypes to whom the market will identify. "A video programmer murmured into his cellular : "We'll bury them, sir..." An esteemed periodical's arts editor snarled; "A magazine is a compilation of paid advertisements masquerading as "unbiased critique" via the idiotic paraphrasing of the official "press biography" by paid writers who typically don't care or know about their subject. If these Don Quixotes (MAKE-UP) can't provide any grease for the wheel, we'll just roll on by."



I saw MAKE-UP the second time at the FINE CHINA, one night when they played to some of the hapless servo-mechanisms of advanced capitalism. To hear these "children" laugh or react emotionally, one could see that they saw MAKE-UP as forthrightly truthful. "I love you, I want to live with you, let's play the pinball machines together", they shouted.

This is, of course, not remarkable in itself, as applause is often brought to bear on the most evil devices. But what the group mirrored, besides the loving mutuality, was a glance at the arcane, the hidden, the remote. The fashion, the tics, the fads, the vocabulary of the tribe, and what is more important, a sort of disgust or confusion as regards the outerworld, a secret refusal to leave their private domain. That place constructed with sound as the refuge against culture, That place where the assumptions of the outerworld are annilated, caught illicitly here on tape, The domain of MAKE-UP , AFTER DARK.