When someone tells me they are a fan of Ministry, invariably after the jokes about With Sympathy, the conversation turns to this era of the band. An era which was wrought with expectations and compounded by the pressures of Lollapalooza's new found followers. I well remember walking around in 1992/1993 downtown and this bunch were on everyone's lips. With the smoldering path of destruction birthed by the three albums still fresh in our minds, we anxiously wondered like so many others: what was going to come next. The interviews were oblique, to put it mildly. Jourgenson and Barker had retreated to that third nation of America: the wild lone star republic of Texas. From within their fortress of cow skulls and cheap beer by the case, Hypo Luxa and Hermes Pan were more than content to say nothing; you almost began to wonder if they'd had enough and were going to just stop. The high profile tour they undertook for Psalm 69 had made them the darlings of MTV and it's insidious handler Viacom, people you never expected to like this act were suddenly sporting t-shirts. Ministry had been handed off from Sire records to the odious A&R nightmare of Warner Brothers. I wondered if they could endure this deal with the devil. The scrutiny placed upon Ministry even from the outside looked intense and unrelenting, I can't even imagine what it was like looking from the inside out.

Despite the attempts to break them on more mainstream radio (that's terrestrial, internet podcasts were years away), there was still resistance to their work. No worries, though, with such a powerful major label backing them success was just around the corner. How many coffee house debates did I engage in pleading with these new enthusiasts about the need to pull back from the goddamn abyss... I lose count. It was all very important, naturally. When you're in your 20s EVERYTHING is serious business.

All the speculation ended in 1995 with the release of "The Fall". You could almost hear the palpable deflation from the peanut gallery of public opinion, never mind that this song had been initially written years ago during the days of 'Mind'. Taking a cursory listen at the time, I was thrown by this deliberate change of style and I know I wasn't alone. Short, sweet and to the point, this single gave the finger to those smiling suits who had dollars signs in their eyes, planning out their next theme park ride collaboration with Eisner and his ilk. A differing version of "TV Song" rounded out the new direction as an exercise in editorial misanthrope the likes of which I'd never thought them capable of and if this wasn't enough an extended take on the song "Reload" kicked and screamed it's way out of the womb like a miscarriage given only the lungs and teeth but nothing more. Caustic retribution didn't even cover what Ministry managed to achieve easily in these three songs. I played it over and over getting more of it into my bloodstream, marveling at the balls these guys had to just tear it up and start all over again. The forthcoming album, 'Filth Pig', began to take on an entirely different tone in terms of anticipation. Friends of mine started to get nervous, the videos didn't get played as much and a tour was surely in the planning stages.

Nearly a year later, 1996 arrived and with it the long-awaited beast staggered out into the spotlight covered in... filth. Uncompromisingly vicious, this entry in Ministry's catalog assured them a place in the rock and roll renegades hall of fame. One didn't hear any of their new songs in the clubs, the game had changed dramatically and once the hard hitting sound began to sink in, a predictable backlash started to gather strength. Songs along the lines of "Gameshow" or the brilliant title track revealed a new arsenal that had no range or limit. Truly, this was one of the most dangerous records a major label could have been tricked into releasing and once the assault got under way there was no stopping it, the proverbial genie had been let out of the bottle. Paul and Al showed their contempt for the established order of the recording industry in a fusillade of nine tracks that rocked harder than anything I'd yet heard. At the time, I was torn between this album and Skinny Puppy's 'The Process'. While Canada's finest trio imploded under the strain of people like Marc Geiger and American recordings, others like our two heroes took up the mantle of rebellion... camouflaging it cleverly behind thick riffs, manic vocals, ravenous drums and sinewy bass. That 'Filth Pig' was primarily comprised of standard instruments is a testament to the talent this band possessed. Just to drive the point home a bit more clearly, there was a song called "Crumbs" that rankled the feathers of more than a few program directors out there; this one remains Ministry's bitterest composition yet.

With the tour underway, another single crept out of the shadows, the somewhat jarring cover of Bob Dylan's "Lay Lady Lay". They took the step of tightening it up into an edit as well as giving you the album version but the greatest moment to be found on it was (and always will be) the hazed out, almost post rock ambiance of the non-album shard "Paisley". You won't hear another song like it from them, and amongst my friends, this was the one we played over and over until our ears rung. A lot of people don't know this one but if this piece does its job, they will. On the surface it was a simplistic exercise in melodic dissonance but once you listened closer, this predatory jewel started to cut you with its sharp, angular edges. To sweeten the deal, a live version of the alienated, poisonous "Scarecrow" was also included and closed out this single in an epic flourish of both bombastic aplomb and menacing acrimony. Love it or hate it, I was hooked by the symmetry which these three releases defined. To my surprise, MTV started picking them back up, giving out tour dates (no, the internet was barely functional kids) while sporadic sound bites of their live venom were interspersed between clearly forced enthusiasm on the part of the band at being filmed. A final single was planned for the song "Brick Windows" but Warner Bros' patience had clearly run out and it was withdrawn before it ever saw release. People hunted for it but to no avail, even though now promotional copies float around on Discogs; this one really isn't worth tracking down. The war machine was on the road and like Sherman's march through Georgia, there were none who could stop it or escape from it.

Funny thing about that tour, it took six years before any official document of it would surface. In 2002, a live album was announced from the band's then label, Sanctuary. Details were few but the set list gave it away, after all the years here it was. 'Spinctour' did not give off the same sense of zenith which it's predecessor 'In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up' contained, this was a bunch who were on the very edge of utterly coming apart. Looking at the photos that came with it, I was struck by how visceral the proceedings looked. The sun had clearly set on Ministry but they could care less. This was their hour, their audience and their set of rules, as evinced by the only classic track included being "Thieves". I'd play this one and it would clear the room, I can't even tell you how many times people would look at me and nearly beg to hear something else. The swaggering, destructive style they brandished had reached what at the time I thought could not become any bleaker. But even though they were pushing far too hard, Ministry just kept shredding, flying out of control and off the handle. If it is possible to sear the sound and feel of a band annihilating their boundaries, then this would have been it; I'm amazed they managed to stay alive during these days but little did anyone know that an even darker period was about to begin once this tour ended. Ministry were right out on the edge staring down and for an outfit who'd gained such recognition a couple years back to drag themselves over mile after mile of broken glass could leave no one in doubt: this was no longer an act, the reality had become a horror show.