Madness – ‘Theatre of the Absurd Presents C’est La Vie’ album review: Madness at their sharpest
In ‘Theatre of the Absurd’, Madness frontman Suggs sings: “The orchestra strike up a song that no ones heard of, a storyline that no one knows to sing”. It reminds me of being at the album launch for their latest record, Theatre of the Absurd Presents C’est La Vie, where the band boldly debuted a slew of completely unheard songs in the first half of their set. They readied the crowd for another hit nobody had heard of, and it became immediately apparent that recognising the lyrics wasn’t necessary; such is the power of a Madness beat.
Under Suggs’ watchful, eternally sunglass-covered eyes, the crowd was caught up by the end of each song, clinging onto random sentences and the band’s drive. ‘If I Go Mad’ was rattling around my head long before I’d got a chance to listen to the album in full. Theatre of the Absurd Presents C’est La Vie being their 13th LP, Madness has mastered the art of crafting a catchy ska tune down to a fine science. But on this album, that skill is coupled with striking social commentary and an unexpected theatricality.
Like a fully formed live performance, we have a prologue and a three-act structure, read by resident Madness superfan Martin Freeman. The band’s manager had found Freeman in a meet-and-greet queue, and later, a friendship was formed with Suggs. Freeman is not the only recognisable face involved with the album either; Suggs also roped Helen Mirren into reading out the lyrics to its lead single on a promotional video, which speaks to their cachet as one of Britain’s most continually relevant bands, even all these years later.
Part of the mythology of Madness seems to be that they’re an omnipresent musical force. You’d be hard-pressed to find a year they were not gigging constantly, but that also means they’re considered something of a nostalgia act by many, happy to stick on the suits and trot out the hits come festival season. This album is enduring proof that Madness is far more than that. Ska is often called a “souped-up” sound simply because it is just that – the acerbic bite of punk coupled with Jamaican rhythms. Madness drive that sound to more eclectic heights on the record, introducing brief flashes of electro-funk, spoken word, and orchestral drama.
Every song arrives as a classic Madness track, staying true to their unmistakable rattle. But the subject matter is a slight departure from the infectious joy of ‘Baggy Trousers’ and ‘Must Be Love’. On this album, the cabaret is cold, and the cupboards are bare. The writing is sharp, using the idea of the grand human theatre to examine the chaos and cruelty of the times we’re living in. Ska rose to prominence during a period of great social upheaval in the ’70s, and that Madness can make an album that feels politically relevant in 2023 is less of an endorsement of ska’s longevity and more an indictment of the times we’re living in – times which Madness skewer with flair and humour.
The wit of the Jerry Dammers can be felt across the entire album, particularly on ‘C’est La Vie’, which touches upon the same resigned annoyance as ‘Ghost Town’. Likewise, the dry humour of the late Terry Hall is echoed in ‘Lockdown and Frack Off’, and a lot of the songs chime with the likes of ‘Rat Race’ or The Clash’s ‘Magnificent Seven’. But there’s no sense of nihilism; you round off the 14-track-offering feeling like someone’s just told you, in plain terms, how fucked everything is – but you feel marginally better for their honesty. Their unflinching anger at the powers that be might dominate, but so do the glimmers of hope.
One of the album’s standouts is ‘In My Street’, the revamped answer to ‘Our House’. Its syncopated beat and wailing saxophone give it a quiet sense of urgency, which jars with the celebration of community Suggs sets out with. It feels like the perfect reflection of a uniquely British malaise – “Everybody’s talking about getting away” – but they all stay.
With dire social circumstances in our midst, a country divided and poorer than ever, we all just stay put, waiting for something to change while daydreaming about being somewhere sunnier. But Madness dash just enough rays of light through the album, the likes of ‘Baby Burglar’ and ‘Theatre of the Absurd’, to stop you from ruminating on the sad state of affairs too much. It’s always onto the next song, and the next act.
On the album and in life, as Suggs instructs: “This cabaret must never end”.
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