In 2014, Pet Shop Boys premiered ‘A Man From the Future’, a concert about the figure of Alan Turing, written together with historian Andrew Hodges. The work blended cinematic electronic textures, orchestral music, and “spoken word.” It opened at the Royal Albert Hall, and a future release on disc was promised. And so it proved distant: ‘A Man From the Future’, the album, has just seen the light more than 12 years later.
I don’t know the reason for the delay, but knowing that Tennant and Lowe don’t miss a beat, the current advent of AI seems an ideal moment to revisit the genius, visionary, and martyr. Turing was a key figure for the Allies in winning World War II, especially thanks to his work deciphering the Enigma machine with which the Germans encrypted their communications. But being a war hero did not spare him from being condemned for his homosexuality in 1952. They gave him a choice: prison or chemical castration. Turing chose the latter, which caused him great physical and mental suffering. He took his own life in 1954.
‘A Man From the Future’ remains a concert of cinematic electronic music, orchestral sound, and spoken word. Pet Shop Boys have recorded it with the Manchester Camerata and produced it with Sven Helbig. The actress Juliet Stevenson remains the narrating voice. The recital unfolds in eight movements, each recounting pivotal moments in Turing’s life and work. The piece pivots on two axes: the human Turing, confronted by a society that would not accept his homosexuality, and his obsession with computation and the possibility of a thinking machine.
The album shows few variations from the 2014 concert, but meaningful ones. The first is the greater presence of Neil’s voice as a sung counterpoint to Stevenson’s narration. The second is the inclusion of the idea of artificial intelligence, something that Turing already theorized in the late 1930s and 1940s. Stevenson’s voice, slightly detached, so clear, so precise, occasionally revealing a hint of artificial emotion, plays with the notion of being a generated voice. Toward the end of the record it asks: “Do you think this story is real? In the age of so-called artificial intelligence, could a machine have written it? Is the creation of a computer?” A note: ideally, the best approach is to follow the music with the lyrics to fully enter the narrative.
But no. Pet Shop Boys strive to humanize Turing’s figure and ideas as much as possible. Here their music balances a cinematic aspect with a very classical, elegant, Kraftwerk-like ambient electronic texture. The presence of the Manchester Camerata octet lends it substantial heft and subtlety, in contrast with other similar works by the duo, such as ‘Battleship Potemkin’ (2005) or ‘The Most Incredible Thing’ (2011), which featured electronics that were somewhat less refined. Here they are closer to ‘Cricket Wife’, the strange and captivating single they released in 2020, a ten-minute piece in which Neil recited a poem over a score of contemporary classical music composed by Lowe.
Neil’s voice punctuates many moments of the album, providing the human and emotional counterpoint. And with his presence, the work gains a great deal. The opening ‘Natural Wonders Every Child Should Know’ is rather classical, probably the most august piece on the record. Here we see Alan’s childhood, his relationship with Christopher Morcom. Neil sings the title, and there is even a children’s choir answering in something closest to a chorus. The retro-futuristic electronics, layered with the epic, surface in ‘He Dreamed of Machines’. In ‘The Enigma’ Kraftwerk’s influence becomes most evident. But also the taste for orchestral strikes in PSB’s music: it almost begs for a single release. After all, it is the song about the most famous part of Alan’s life, the one that made him a hero: deciphering the German Enigma machine.
‘Other Ranks’ is the most dissonant, dotted with casual swing. Neil plays with references: “Science and sex,” the two essences that summarize Turing’s life. ‘The Trial’, with Neil singing: “Can you think what I feel? Can you feel what I think?” marks the album’s high point. It contrasts the strongest, most emotional singing from Neil with the cruelty of Turing’s punishment, disguised as “scientific progress”: chemical castration. It speaks of the cruelty with which Turing and every homosexual man who dared not hide were treated. The cruelty intensified by the bitter paradox that the science for which Turing lived was what ultimately ended his life.
‘Only in his death’ should be the central piece but it comes off as somewhat flawed. And back to the start: ‘A Man from the Future’, the song, reprises the music of ‘He Dreamed of Machines’. It fuses the personal and the political: the government’s and the Crown’s official forgiveness, the acknowledgment of the horrendous crimes committed against thousands of homosexual men in the United Kingdom, not only Alan (though perhaps his case was more painful for having been a true war hero). And it leaves us with two reflections: first, about AI as mentioned at the outset. And another, how Alan not only saw the future of machines: “I hoped to live in a world where being homosexual no longer was a crime, but something perfectly normal,” while Neil repeats the chorus: “Can you think what I feel? Can you feel what I think?”
The album closes with instrumental versions of all eight tracks. It is simply curious. It robs us of the voices and the emotion (only faint echoes of choruses remain) and, without narrative, it loses something. Perhaps in the instrumental version of ‘He Dreamed of Machines’ one can better appreciate its circular structure and its mysterious, seventies-synth atmospheres. ‘The Enigma’ holds its own and ‘Only in His Death’ manages to underscore its majesty.
Perhaps what we might fault about ‘A Man From the Future’ is that it isn’t outstanding. Pet Shop Boys always leave us wanting more. It sits in a strange middle ground: it isn’t mechanical, it has emotional moments, but it lacks that extra spark of passion and a hook beyond the superb moments when Neil Tennant shines. And yes, I haven’t mentioned them yet, so I’ll name them now: Hidrogenesse on ‘Un dígito binario dudoso’ did it earlier. And one must admit they did it better.
