The Vega Vault Project and Sacred Bones Records continue uncovering Alan Vega’s extensive collection of work left behind by the influential visual artist, musician, and poet. The two organizations announce reissues of Vega’s highly influential 1980 self-titled solo debut alongside its follow-up ‘Collision Drive’. Remastered from the original tapes and available on streaming services for the first time, Sacred Bones faithfully re-releases both albums, preserving the raw intensity of Vega’s original recordings while making them accessible to listeners worldwide. The packages arrive meticulously assembled, with a companion piece ‘Alan Vega Deluxe Edition’ available as a limited deluxe double LP featuring unheard demos, unseen photos, and new artwork. All three albums contain previously unseen photos and fresh album artwork, including Vega’s original track sheets from his 1978 Suicide and The Clash Tour Notebook.
‘Alan Vega’ dropped in 1980 during the same period Suicide released their second album ‘Suicide: Alan Vega and Martin Rev’. Vega wanted to dig deeper into the roots of his sonic identity, fueled by rockabilly, early rock and roll, and his enduring love for Elvis Presley. Between recording with Suicide and developing songs he was writing independently, Vega committed to producing his own material and started performing solo shows to refine his sound. He met Phil Hawk, a young Texan artist who tracked him down at a party at the Drawing Center in New York after seeing him perform with a boombox at Max’s Kansas City. Vega immediately noticed Hawk’s look, describing him as a blonde Elvis, and was intrigued by his raw, intuitive playing style. Having experimented with sound and tape manipulation for years but needing a guitar player, Vega instantly saw the potential that could match his vision for a stripped-down, minimal is maximal rock and roll record.
As with his visual art, Vega layered sound in a minimalist, dynamic, and intentional way. He deconstructed the drums, recording each part individually while combining electronic and acoustic sounds played live. He directed Hawk on specific guitar riffs until achieving the sound he wanted, performed all other music parts, and arranged and produced everything himself. The result was a fiercely singular album built from raw materials and deeply rooted in Vega’s artistic vision. ‘Alan Vega’ includes the timeless anthem “Jukebox Babe” with its jiving rhythm and minimalist swagger, “Kung Foo Cowboy” taking on a southern twist while leaning into the blues, and the golden pop shine of “Ice Drummer” ringing in melodic yet plaintive vocals, marching drums, and a tasteful harmonica solo.
Vega’s debut created a ripple effect in New York’s music scene, carving a unique place in the underground canon from the 80s onward. Mark Ronson, Jim Jarmusch, LCD Soundsystem, Trent Reznor, Bruce Springsteen, The Flaming Lips, Billy Idol, and countless others have cited Vega and his solo work as an influence. In 1981, Vega followed with ‘Collision Drive’, recorded within the same year and in the same NYC studio as his self-titled. The album expands his palette with grittier, more layered, and unfiltered energy. His lyrics channel universal themes rooted in his fascination with street life, science fiction, politics, comics, love, and the mysteries of the universe. The record pulses with feeling and rebellion, displaying the full spectrum of human experience and Vega’s evolving vision.
“Alan was always reinventing himself,” says Jared Artaud, co-producer and creative director of The Vega Vault Project. “He was creating and refining his mastery of variation while maintaining his own unparalleled and identifiable aesthetic. Sonically, this album is more dynamic than his first, which is a minimalist masterpiece. Ditching drum machines for a live drummer, and enlisting a hard rock band to back him, ‘Collision Drive’ offered a different view of Vega’s artistic vision.” Vega’s longtime collaborator, wife, and Vega Vault Project leader and co-producer Liz Lamere recalls, “Alan’s music thrived on interpretation. He believed the meaning of his songs belonged to the listener. His lyrics painted emotional and conceptual landscapes but he resisted explaining them. He always wanted the listener to bring their own experiences, imaginations, and emotions into what listening to his music and words meant to them, and ultimately that openness is part of its power.”