POST-1975 ODDS and SODS
(reviews of even more dishonest pageless artists)
This page is dedicated to... well, the title says it all, except that, if you didn't get it, it refers to artists arising after 1975, not albums released after 1975, as this is a band-oriented site rather than an album-oriented one. This is but a short prelude to what's gonna follow: in the end (aka "ideal situation"), all of these artists and bands are going to be upgraded to independent pages of their own. The problem is with accumulating a full discography - some of these guys' output I have managed to acquire in MP3 format, but I refrain from analyzing the most worthy until I got my hands on their audio CD. Out of respect, probably.
This page is all the more necessary since I get the feeling that my infamous Essay # 1 on this site has led many to erroneously believe that I entirely dismiss any new music that was written after the Golden Age (1966-75) of rock'n'roll. This is definitely wrong, and I think I have already clarified my position in the discussion that followed the essay and turned out to be ten times as long as the essay itself; here I'll just re-instate that the basic idea was to outline a certain 'curve' of the development of rock music over the years, and to demonstrate that the genre of rock music is already past its prime, like so many other genres, which certainly does not mean that there was no good music written after 1975. There was simply far less epochal, historically important music.
So, on this page you are going to find reviews of all kinds of artists from the late Seventies to the early Nineties (from Clash to the Cars to the Police to U2 to REM to Sonic Youth to the Swans to Radiohead, etc.) whose music I find to be intelligent, enjoyable, adequate and at least partially innovative. Certain other artists from the epoch will also later be found on the MP3 page, although currently it's hard for me to tell who'll make it to the 'main' page and who will be left in MP3 form. Some random decisions will have to be taken, I'm afraid.
Here's a complete list of artists and records reviewed on the Post-1975 Odds and Sods page. Click on a link and it will take you directly to the album:
Year Of Release: 1978
Overall rating = 12
Dinky bluesy poppy boys discover New Wave, and end up recording the
best piece of trash I ever heard...
Best song: MOVING IN STEREO
Eh, well, the funniest review of this album I've
ever seen was written by Signor Mark Prindle, so if you're expecting a
joke or two, just move on straight ahead. Me, I'm just gonna bore you as
usual, but whaddaya know, some people actually like that... Kinky.
My main credo about the Cars is as follows: "The guys that never wrote
a single great song but never wrote a single bad song, either". This,
of course, means just that they never wrote a truly great song (a
la 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps' or 'Superstition'), but they never stooped
down to a thoroughly inadequate suckjob either (like 'Hold On My Heart'
or 'Passion', eeeh, yuck). In within the restricted borders, though,
lies a good deal of diversity and alternating quality - and I'm not going
to eschew the usual route and pretend that their debut album wasn't their
best one, because it certainly was.
But mainly because it was the first one, hey, all the Cars' albums sound
the friggin' same. (With a few reservations, of course, but who am I to
resist a generalization when it's on the tip of my tongue?). On here, Ocasek,
Orr & company haven't yet discovered the unlimited possibilities of
synthesizers, and the record is far more guitar-based than whatever followed;
the keyboards are quite prominent, of course, but they're used in a nice
traditional way - substituting for orchestrated lush pieces of background
slush, or playing something pathetic and bloated in the vein of progressive
acts. British progressive acts: thank God, Greg Hawkes never took
any inspiration from patriotic wankers like Kerry Livgren. Anyway, what
I just wanted to point out is that there are none of these "bleeps",
"beeps" and "bloops" that symbolize later Cars, that
is! So this isn't even "synth pop" as we know it. Rather like
a good old rock'n'roll band that decided to get trendy and poppy by spitting
on its bluesy legacy, but never dared to dump the actual songwriting talents
either. Which is fun.
All, or most, of these songs are deserved US radio classics and probably
don't need being introduced to radio-listening crowds; but if you happen
to never listen to the radio, afraid of the potential interference of Bob
Seger or Britney Spears, or if you're not a US resident - and hey, only
about 250 million people on the planet are! - you might need some introduction.
(I, for instance, have never heard not a single of these tunes before
I actually bought the CD! Can you believe that?) Out of the nine numbers
on here, not a single one can be accused of lacking ideas; granted, these
ideas aren't particularly revolutionary or anything, but I wouldn't blame
the Cars for sounding too retro, either. Simply put, just like Blondie,
they sounded perfectly right for a year like 1978 - and this explains their
massive commercial success. Great pop hooks, drenched in tradition and
at the same time paving the road to the future; how could this record not
be a bestseller?
Of course, on first listen the first seven songs might appear a little
mixed up in your head - more or less the same steady mid-tempo beats, the
same cheerful and pleasant, yet slightly menacing atmosphere, due to the
grim basslines, otherworldly synth backgrounds and Ocasek's robotic vocals,
which were by far the most innovative element of the band's sound on American
territory. Obviously, the man took a few listens to David Bowie's recent
output, which was nicely shunned by the American musically interested public
for being 'too weird' - but at least Ric was singing about his best friend's
girlfriend and about letting the good times roll, not about beauties, beasts,
and Joe the lions, so the public swallowed him instead.
Anyway, whatever. What do all these songs get by? Come closer, let me whisper
in your ear. 'Good Times Roll' gets by due to an insanely catchy vocal
melody and its contrast with the stark, terrifying arrangement. 'My Best
Friend's Girl' gets by due to... due to more or less the same, but add
up the tasty echoey guitar line upon which the song is based and especially
the pretty ring-ring-ringing Beatlesque guitar line that the band inserts
every time after Ric wails '...but she used to be mine!' That Beatlesque
guitar line just drives me crazy, even if it's directly stolen from some
Beatles For Sale passage I can't remember right now. Whoever else
would have thought of that? The right rip-off, in the right place!
Meanwhile, 'Just What I Needed' gets by due to the vocals - the vocals
rule, man. The synth line rules, too, and so does the bass in all of its
genericness. Don't try to deconstruct the song any further, though: it's
only when all the elements are tightly glued together that it actually
works. 'I'm In Touch With Your World' gets by due to its complexity - check
out David Robinson's tricky drum pattern and the quirky ascending guitar
riffs on that one. 'Don't Cha Stop' gets by due to the fact that it's the
only fast song on the album, and it's also the only good fast song. Punkish
just a wee bit, but these guys never intended to be punks - the guitars
are actually quite tame and comfortable. 'You're All I've Got Tonight'
got phased drums, grumbly power chords, heavenly synths and intricate vocal
melodies. Maybe it's the best pop song of the Seventies. Maybe not,
of course, but the problem is: how could you disprove that? How
could you disprove that? The song is immaculate on an objective level,
and how could you actually put it down? Not that I really make that statement,
mind you: I'm just trying to say that whenever someone says 'it's one of
the top five songs ever recorded', he's putting forward one hell
of a hypothesis...
'Bye Bye Love' ends this trail of poppy wonders on yet another high note,
but then the album gives way to some of the band's darker fantasies: 'Moving
In Stereo' is one of those deeply depressing numbers that youthful bands
like to pump out to prove that they're youthful but they're oh so worried
anyway. Of course, the Cars are such a dinky dorky happy band anyway that
they don't entirely reach the desired effect: the song is intriguing
and 'hilariously spooky' rather than anything truly depressing,
but hey, we got enough goth music in this world already. You wanna depress
yourself, try Nico or the Swans. Me, at this particular time I just wanna
groove along to the Cars' quaky quirky qeecky sound. 'All Mixed Up' ends
the album on more or less the same 'pseudo-depressed' note, with the album's
best bunch of vocal harmonies which - for once - really move you
and shake you up, to misquote a particularly underrated Cars' album title.
In all, this is this is this is well this is about as far as 'intelligent
post-golden epoch pop albums' can go. Think of it as post-Beatles Hard
Day's Night: objectively inferior, but almost just as fun and everything.
An album worth treasuring, apart from the horrible album cover. Man I hate
lipstick!
Year Of Release: 1979
Overall rating = 10
A good mix of pop and Nuave with a slight scent of the Cars' rootsy
roots. Not tremendously exciting, tho'.
Best song: sorry. If I pick one, the others will get pissed off.
The Cars' second album firmly established them as New Wavers (as compared
to the 'mixed' debut album), and it's a good New Wave record indeed. But
if you ask me, it's not a pure New Wave record. See, distancing
ourselves a little from the actual quality of the songs on the album, we
should notice that the Cars were something of a 'buffer band' by 1979,
"smoothing" mainstream America's transition from the conservative
values of roots rock to the modernistic values of modernized, electronic,
paranoid music. Therefore, while Candy-O is, in its essence, a pop
album heavily based on technological advances, it still sounds nowhere
near as groundbreaking for 1979 as whatever the Talking Heads on one side
of the Atlantic and the Police on its other side were doing at the same
time. The Heads were learning their lessons from Eno (who, in turn, earlier
learned his from the Krautrock scene); the Police were learning
their lessons from Bob Marley. Who gave lessons to the Cars? Nobody but
the traditional American rock scene... and their New Wave contemporaries.
Let us get back to the actual quality of the songs on the album, now. I
must confess that I feel like a tail-waggin' idiot, because the more I
kept listening to this album, the more I just poked my eyes at every review
of it and reader comment on it in existence and going like, 'Eh? These
guys probably have a third ear on 'em somewhere!' Because, try as I might,
I simply can't understand what the hell makes one of these ten songs (I
don't count 'Shoo Be Doo' as it's just a short electronic gimmick) more
outstanding than any other. If there's anything undermining this album,
it's a hyper-annoying lack of diversity. Not that diversity was a necessary
element of late Seventies' pop, of course; but at least better New Wave
bands had something to compensate for the lack of diversity. The Heads,
for instance, had that unprecedented rhythmic style that makes all of their
droning compositions on More Songs About Buildings And Food so hypnotic.
The Police had an absolute mastery of melody and hooks which makes all
of the stylistically similar numbers on Reggatta De Blanc so godlike.
What do the Cars 'ave? A decent, but not perfect, sense of harmony, a jovial,
fun-time atmosphere (New Wave for forklift drivers! Youpee!) and awful
haircuts.
That said, not a single of these ten songs is bad. In fact, all of these
songs are good. I suppose that upon the fifty-first listen something
is supposed to really click and you'll head on down the street able to
lovingly hum any one of them, because they are hummable. While they're
on, they're a total gas: the Cars have a great feeling of rhythm (normal
rhythm, not the lunatic asylum of the Heads), and the serious emphasis
on Greg Hawkes' keyboards is actually a good thing - the synths don't sound
cheesy at all, though, granted, at first I was a bit thrown aback at hearing
the trademark "sci-fi" sound in something that was supposed to
sound like a normal rock song. Well, you get used to everything.
The record is actually playing behind my back, because I don't feel like
reviewing it otherwise - like I said, the songs are not at all memorable.
A strange thing, because there really are hooks. 'It's All I Can
Do', for instance - what do you call that chorus? Catchy. 'It's
all I can do, to keep waiting for you'. Hmm. I guess I'll have to write
that down on a piece of paper and carry it with me. Now if only I could
read notes...
The most famous song on here is probably the energetic kick-album-ass-opener,
'Let's Go', but the person who can sufficiently well explain me why it
should be considered superior to 'Double Life', or 'Candy-O', or 'Night
Spots', or 'Dangerous Type' will have to be a patented sophist. 'Night
Spots', by the way, is for me the song that stands out most of all - mainly
due to Ric Ocasek's vocal impersonation of David Byrne. At least he's trying
out the same paranoid, m-m-m-m-umblin' style, and even though the song
lacks any other paranoid elements, the ferocious guitar riffs and Hawkes'
astral synth zooooops are a perfect background. Mind you, I'm not calling
the song particularly great, it's just a bit different from the rest. Perhaps
the title track, too, is a little bit angrier than everything else, with
a dark and disturbing atmosphere around it. ("Dark and disturbing",
of course, is not a particularly suitable epithet for the Cars, whose music
can't normally disturb even a person who's been suffering from acute schizophrenia
for the last fifteen years, but it's the best I could come up with. Me
bad with me words. Me no speak English, see? Me crazy Russian guy).
And the rest? They're all right. 'Got A Lot On My Head' is fast, so it
gives me a few kicks (unlike 'Lust For Kicks', which only gives me lust
for kicks, but it still has a wonderful synth pattern going for it). Perhaps
'You Can't Hold On Too Long' and 'Since I Held You' can qualify as relative
'filler', but only if you want very badly to distinguish between good songs
and bad songs on this album. Me, I just don't feel such a necessity - I
take Candy-O for what it is: a daring, yet somewhat 'conventional'
record supposed to keep me dancing the night away and digging those crazy
New Wave sounds that We, Your Attentive Tutors the Cars, are bringing to
you, the average Eagles fan. In other words, the Cars are popularizing
New Wave. Good for them, good for me. Who cares if there ain't a single
classic on this album? It's not the point.
Year Of Release: 1981
Overall rating = 11
Lightweight, but quite pleasant, "proto-synth-pop" overloaded
with hooks. Got any problems?
Best song: CRUISER
One thing I really admire about the Cars - actually, the thing that
makes the Cars a really great band, as opposed to numerous other contenders
- is how they're using all those contemporary hi-tech gimmicks and still
the music never sounds lifeless or sterile, like, say, Phil Collins. On
their fourth album, for instance, Greg Hawkes is almost completely in command,
inserting his synths everywhere; and in addition to that, the Cars start
exploiting all kinds of drum machines, and Ocasec's guitar relies hugely
on those leaden metallic riffs that were so popular among early Eighties
popsters - you know, so that their band could write dumb bubbly music and
not sound like total wusses (which most of 'em sounded like anyway). And
yet, when I listen to the nine songs presented herein, I really don't get
the feeling that I'm listening to typical Eighties music. And why is that?
Because they're so dang creative with their stuff!
Seriously now, the drum machines are never robotic enough - when they're
actually used on some of the tracks, the band disguises them as handclaps
or real drums and makes 'em thin and inobtrusive. The guitar riffs might
sometimes be overdistorted, but they're not just stupid powerchords - real
clever guitar riffs with enough memorability and inspiration to them. And
finally, Hawkes has finally matured into a 'master soundscaper', rarely
placing the synths at the very center of the sound so that they could overshadow
everything else, but instead making them stand somewhere aside and just
fiddle their diddle... and it works. Just listen to the way they open 'I'm
Not The One', for instance. Could this be called 'synth-pop' when the synth
riff - which supposedly underpins the entire song - is so thin and wimpy
and almost sounds to be coming from one of those little toy synthesizers
that we buy for our four-year old kids? It's so dang cool...
Surprisingly, this record gets underrated way too often, being dismissed
exactly for those faults: too 'thin', too 'wimpy', too 'lightweight', too
'lifeless'. Well, what's wrong with being thin, wimpy and lightweight?
This is not exactly Blonde On Blonde or Quadrophenia we're
dealing with. This is a typical commercial Cars record, absolutely hit-oriented
- and it did get some hits, and they were deserved. 'Nuff said. If all
Eighties synth-pop took lessons from the Cars, I guess the decade might
have been free of all those hideous lapses of taste like No Jacket Required...
Just about all of these songs make the grade in my book - granted, it's
not an overwhelmingly high grade, but dammit, I like a well-placed hook,
and there's at least one well-placed hook in almost every one of these
songs. 'Since You're Gone' displays a weird Dylan influence in the way
Ocasec sings the 'looping' verses. The title track is a bit hokey, but
how can one resist the driving synth riff? A good old piece of boogie updated
for the electronic age, and nobody could do that as well as the Cars could...
well, perhaps Brian Eno could, but by 1981 Brian Eno was far more interested
in living in bushes chock-full of ghosts than boogieing along. And the
Cars just were ripping it up! So much fun, count me happy. 'I'm Not The
One' could be a failure, but I already mentioned the reasons it's not.
I shudder at the thought of how the song could have turned out in the hands
of Phil Collins, but here it works out all right.
And how can you deny the insane catchiness of 'Victim Of Love'? One more
thin synth line undercuts the chorus, and does that in a brilliant, hilarious
way - I smile every time it comes along. And what a better way to follow
it than with 'Cruiser', featuring what could arguably be called the Cars'
best ever guitar riff? A little Talking Heads influence can be perceived
here (don't you feel the Byrnism of Ric yelping 'big city noise...'?),
but not much, as there's nothing 'weird' about the song, just the cool
guitar riff and the cool echoey vocal harmonies and the pretty little synth
bleeps along the way. This has also been called the Cars' best 'driving
song', and I couldn't agree more, even if I don't drive. But hey, can't
I fantasize a little?
'A Dream Away' and 'This Could Be Love' slow down the tempo a little, reminding
the listener that the Cars used to be a 'dark' band at one time - both
add a wee bit pseudo-industrial/pseudo-Goth atmosphere, and while 'A Dream
Away' has Ocasek at his most paranoid (and electronically encoded), 'This
Could Be Love' mostly gets by due to Hawkes' ominous synth playing - these
notes are SPOOKY! Spooky and catchy, of course. And yeah, they were certainly
due to a huge Roxy Music influence, of course, but taken in perspective,
these are the immediate historic roots of Pet Shop Boys and Depeche
Mode, and in my humble opinion, they beat out both bands, but that's my
humble opinion, of course...
The last two songs I could live without - 'Think It Over' didn't turn out
to be as memorable as last remember, and while 'Maybe Baby' doesn't actually
feature a techno rhythm (for the sole reason that techno as we know it
today was still non-existent at the time), today it would certainly have
featured one. It's still catchy, even if five minutes is a wee bit too
long for the tune. Still, this shouldn't detract from the fact that Shake
It Up is criminally underrated, both in terms of influence and in terms
of actual song quality.
Year Of Release: 1977
Overall rating = 10
No immense social importance can hide the fact that this is... just...
a good record.
Best song: REMOTE CONTROL
So here it is, the most famous album from the entire punk scene, the
"one punk album to buy if you only buy one", the indispensable
Bible of every trendy critic alive and the supposedly greatest "teen
anger" record of all time. I've been laying off on actually putting
down a review for this sucker for a ve-e-e-ry long time because, frankly
speaking, I'm absolutely not in love with it like the rest of the world,
and my review will probably not please anybody. But like an enraged warhorse,
I plummet on, and here is what I've got to say.
The Clash is usually discussed with regard to both of its versions
- the American one and the earlier, original, British one. The American
is the one more readily available on CD, and this is the one I have: it
omits a few tracks from the original in favour of a couple of the band's
more well-known singles, as was the usual practice. Not having heard the
British version, I can't really compare the two; rumours have it that the
American song selection is stronger, but the album flows somewhat more
poorly than the original as a result. You take it from here. Only thing
I can say is it's a wonder the Americans haven't edited out 'I'm So Bored
With The U.S.A.' with its absolutely transparent anti-American message
(of course, it's not about the American people, rather about the American
way of life, but shouldn't that message enrage the big bosses from the
record industry even further? Talk about embarrassing...)
Anyway, this CD puts together fifteen prime punk rock numbers - yeah, the
ones that sound all the same on first, second and third listen. I won't
speak a lot about how monotonous and samey all this stuff sounds, though,
as it's the usual punk trademark and it's already been dealt with in the
intro paragraph. Instead, just one remark: the only number that steps away
from the formula is the band's six-minute take on the reggae number 'Police
And Thieves', and ironically, the only song to seriously crash the three-minute
barrier also crashes it mercilessly - as if the band thought that 'if it
ain't punk, it needs to be long'. That said, the song is quite good, with
Mick Jones' hoarse voice perfectly suiting the ragged, blazing power chords
counting out the bouncy reggae rhythm, and a nice Beatlesque solo.
Otherwise, it's just one short-lived explosion of rage and anger after
another. For me, the best stuff on here can all be found on the first side,
with hardly an exception. Of course the band can't but start off
the record with an obligatory reincarnation of the riff from the Who's
'I Can't Explain' - the most classic punk riff of all time, recycled on
probably billions of better and worse songs; this time it is used as the
basis for the band's notorious anthem, 'Clash City Rockers', a song whose
choice as 'off-kicker of things' for the American audience was brilliant,
as the band announces its arrival with a real crash-boom-bang. After the
introduction, comes the backlash - 'I'm So Bored With The USA', with its
classic poppy bounce (it's essentially poppy, indeed, with a punk arrangement)
and raging anti-Yankee pathos. And then, just to show that the Clash weren't
completely anti-melodic or something, they surprise the listener with 'Remote
Control', a song whose melody borrows quite a lot from Kinkish Brit-pop:
just listening to Mick Jones chant 'whoooo neeeds... remote control...
from the Civic Ha-aall...' makes it apparent which country the band are
from - they did spend quite a few time listening to Ray Davies, after all.
The immaculate interweaving of these sly, gentle intonations with the usual
grittiness of the three-chord formula makes up for objectively the most
interesting song on the album. I guess.
Pretty catchy can also be called 'White Riot', 'London Burning' (the titles
speak for themselves), and the band's hilarious take on the very appropriately
selected traditional tune 'I Fought The Law' ('..and the... LAW WON!').
But then things start getting rougher - the monotonousness starts getting
on your nerves, and it sure doesn't help that they had placed the most
solidly written tunes in the first half. Apart from 'Police And Thieves',
the melodies of just about everything on the second side escape me completely,
which is only natural, as with such a highly formulaic sound you'd have
to struggle like mad in order to get your melodies distinct and highly
different from each other. No such struggle here.
Of course, it goes without question that if you're an eighteen (or fifteen,
or twenty) years old young dude with your heart on fire and your conscience
exploding, these songs will speak to you like nothing else. But you might
have noticed that I never even mentioned the lyrics off this album, apart
from in relation to music. Why? Because they're kinda obvious. Mick Jones
never barked out anything that the other punks didn't - he just did it
in a slightly more subtle and polished way, using certain metaphors and
images that the other punkheads simply didn't have enough brains for. But
subtle or no, he's certainly no Bob Dylan, and he ain't even no John Lennon;
and essentially it's just the same old messages of anger and hate - anti-government,
anti-establishment, anti-Yankee, anti-big bosses, anti-industry, anti-everything.
The Clash is not a serious artistic statement: it is, naturally,
a call to arms, and thus, can interest all those who are interested in
calls to arms. But I'm not interested in calls to arms; I'm more interested
in finding out this album's musical value.
And the results? Sure, this album does have musical value; I would
be the biggest fool on Earth if I ever tried to deny it. All of the above-mentioned
songs are definitely good - well-written and catchy, even if some of them
are based on riffs and ideas ripped off of their British predecessors (oh
well, the punks never denied that themselves). But this certainly is not
the basis according to which the record is usually put on its pedestal.
Without the lyrics, the atmosphere and - most importantly - the happy time
when the album was recorded, it wouldn't even have made the top ten thousand
records in any classification imaginable. On any site that rates the records
according to their social importance (similar to Brian Burks' 'Creative
Noise', for instance - I'm not putting the site down, but it does
have a heavy penchant in the direction of the working class problems),
The Clash would definitely rate as a great album. But I rate it
according to the melodical side, and in this respect, it only scores a
'good one' from me (ten out of fifteen). And even so, only after
repeated listenings.
Year Of Release: 1977
Overall rating = 11
More music, less revolution. Less importance, more hooks. Still rather
monotonous, tho'.
Best song: LAST GANG IN TOWN
I'm definitely the only guy around who likes the Clash's second record
not any less and maybe even more than the first one, although it's still
not at all great and it took me a longer time to appreciate it. But let
me explain. At the time of release, Give 'Em Enough Rope was somewhat
ridiculized by many fans and critics alike - the problem was that the Clash
got slower, and their songs got longer, which was definitely not
the kind of thing that true punk rockers were supposed to do. Some, in
fact, put the label of "heavy metal" on this record, which is
even more ridiculous; these songs have nothing to do with heavy metal,
even if the album was produced by Sandy Pearlman of Blue Oyster
Cult. It's just slowed-down punk rock; essentially, the guitar tones, the
song structures, the riffage, everything is left intact, it's just that
somebody seems to have put some sticks in the band's wheels so they don't
normally roll as fast as they used to.
But that's about it. On the other hand, the fact that most of the songs
are longer than they used to can also be treated in a positive way - they
give us enough time to dig in the actual grooves. There are but ten songs,
and these are songs, not just momentary catchy (or, worse, non-catchy)
explosions on the previous album; songs that can actually be discussed
and appreciated, or not appreciated, as individual pieces rather than a
furious non-detachable mess. And considering that there are not any less
vocal or melodic hooks on this record than there are on The Clash,
I'm really seriously baffled about why some reviewers, notably the illustrious
Mark Prindle himself, tend to put the album so deep down in the shitter
(while at the same time praising some completely worthless Aerosmith tripe).
No, it's not a great piece of work; and I haven't yet said that it certainly
suffers the fate of a "follow-up" - the novelty factor is gone,
since the Clash have already declared their thunderous arrival on the scene
a year earlier and you can't declare a thunderous arrival on the scene
twice unless you stage a disbanding of the group and then get them
back together in which case you're just an attention-attracting commercial
twat. But hey, all odds considered, and keeping in mind the limitations
of punk rock as a genre, I'm still surprised that the record turned out
to be as musically acceptable as it is.
I mean, let's be serious. On at least half of these numbers, hooks galore
- mostly vocal hooks, as I have never really cared for the Clash's stinted
brand of generic three-chord riffage (well, I've never cared for the Ramones'
stinted brand of generic three-chord riffage either - it's the poppy vocal
melodies that do 'em for me), but at least they're placed on a justifiable
musical base which isn't all noise and power chords. As usual, Jones
is still coming up with deeply political, aggressive lyrics, which are
surprisingly getting deeper and deeper with each new try; but as usual,
I'll stay away from discussing the lyrics because the record's social importance
is obvious and has been well discussed in a million other places.
Highlights, for me? Well, just about the entire first side will do. 'Safe
European Home' is an excellent pop-rocker with carefully crafted vocal
harmonies, and this is also where the Clash's extended coda thing works
really fine - as if by magic, they suddenly transform the all-out rocking
ending into a bizarre reggae chanting before switching back to "ROCK"
and putting the final touch to the song on a completely unexpected note.
'English Civil War', a reworking of the traditional anthem 'When Johnny
Comes Marching Home", is a great piece of boogie with excellent basslines
and a fine Chuck Berry-style solo. 'Tommy Gun' could have easily fit onto
the debut without anybody noticing the swindle - so what if it's a wee
wee bit slower than 'I'm So Bored With The USA'? It's just as powerful.
'Julie's In The Drug Squad', on the other hand, doesn't fit in with either
of the two albums, maybe that's why I like it so much. It's actually a
barroom tune with tasty saloon piano throughout! The least thing at all
to expect from Clash, yet somehow the fans never seemed to accuse them
of selling out to Southern rock. But it's actually one of the most obvious
predecessors to the band's diversity on London Calling. And then
there's 'Last Gang In Town', of course, again, not too much of a punk song
unless you give it the SPEED UPS; but a great rocker dedicated to life
in the streets, with a marvelous idea of alternating rather routine upbeat
verses with a very threatening, moody chorus ("the Crops hit the Stiffs...",
etc.). And hey, Strummer's actually playing that solo with a nod to the
great Bloozy tradition. Cool.
The second side is a little less inspiring (what with yet another
'Can't Explain' rip-off in 'Guns On The Roof' and a couple throwaways like
'Cheapskates'), but still, it does have a great Beatlesque pop number in
'Stay Free' (is that really Jones singing? Sounds more like John Lennon
to me!), and the band's personal anthem 'All The Young Punks', certainly
a specific response to Bowie/Mott the Hoople's 'All The Young Dudes', is
a good note to finish the album on.
In all, you may crucify me for betraying public taste, call me elitist,
call me Ben Greenstein, whatever, but I really think Give 'Em
Enough Rope is a progression, not a regression from the early album.
Come on people, I respect speed, but speed is never the defining moment
when it comes to actual musical value. You might just follow Prindle's
recommendation and play this stuff at 78 speed. You'll then see
that these songs are actually more complex, well-thought, creative and
even more catchy than a large part of the stuff from The Clash you
usually headbang to. The Clash showed the world a serious, intelligent
punk rock band; Give 'Em Enough Rope showed the world that this
serious, intelligent punk rock band was actually good enough to break out
of the genre's formulaic limits and expand its sound, thus giving their
songwriting talents a better chance. Further proof for me that "punk
rock" in its pure form was nothing more than a brief launching pad
for serious New Wave/early Eighties pop bands to kick off, just like Fifties'
rock was an excellent launching pad for starting the careers of all those
wonderful British Invasion bands.
Year Of Release: 1978
Overall rating = 13
The best music for old men ever written by a young one. Fabulous.
Best song: impossible to tell. At least three or four equal candidates
- hell, this album is so darn equal...
At one time, this record was one of my most obvious candidates for the
Top Ten rock records ever written, and although objective reasoning leads
to declining that proposition (in fact, it's not even my favourite post-1975
record any longer - that honour now belongs to Brian Eno's Before And
After Science), it's still an unbelievable experience... In fact, it
got some of my friends into rock music, and that's saying something. That
said, a serious warning must be made: Dire Straits is definitely
not for everybody. Normally, this is one of the best examples of the 'love-or-hate
record' I've ever witnessed, with opinions mostly sticking either to 'this
is the rare case of a perfect rock album' camp or to 'this is so deadly
boring I simply can't stand it' camp. I definitely belong to the first
camp, and therefore, if you happen to know nothing about this album and
haven't even heard 'Sultans Of Swing' (although even liking 'Sultans Of
Swing' doesn't guarantee that you'll like the entire album), please read
the following review carefully before giving this piece o' plastic a try.
This might be hazardous.
And it's easy to see why. One thing Mark Knopfler, the band's leader, singer,
main composer and lead guitar player, certainly can't be accused of is
diversity. The nine songs on Dire Straits, the band's self-titled
debut album, mostly stick to the same blues-oriented style. Well, they're
not exactly blues, all of them, more of a folk-blues combined approach
here, with most of the melodies being pretty obvious and - dare I say it?
- generic, and I'd be the last person to deny that 'Sultans Of Swing' and
'Down To The Waterline' are based on the same pattern, or a similar thing
with 'Setting Me Up' and 'Southbound Again'. This is a serious blow for
persons alergic to blues-rock, especially after their expectations had
been set high with all kinds of glorious reviews.
However, Dire Straits is not really about the melodies. Well - okay,
so it is, in a large part, because despite all the criticism, at least
half of these songs are as catchy as anything, with such memorable highlights
as the chorus to 'Water Of Love' or 'Setting Me Up' being perfectly hummable
and all that. What is truly unique and mind-blowing about the album is
its overall atmosphere. Knopfler was writing a record about late-Seventies
England, capturing the contemporary spirit like no one else could at the
time. In a sense, Dire Straits can be seen as a direct response
to the punk movement from the 'older', 'wiser' generation - or maybe simply
from the 'quieter' generation, the kind of people who preferred not to
vent their frustration in the open but instead let their feelings gush
through in a more subtle, 'intelligent' manner. Many probably tried to
do that, but it was Knopfler who succeeded: Dire Straits is definitely
not a punk album, but in some respects it is angrier, more sarcastic, and
more hard-hitting than all of the British punk bands of the time, the Clash
and everyone else included.
I'm not British, of course, but it hardly matters - it's extremely easy
to identify with the album that seems to take you places on almost every
number. Knopfler is the overlord here, in many respects. The lyrics are
sheer brilliancy, something in between 'working class poetry' and Springsteen's
philosophy, borrowing from the sincerity and passion of the former and
the wittiness of the latter. Knopfler's ragged, 'senile' voice is at his
very best, ranging from quiet loving whispers to loud gruff screaming (well,
relatively loud - this is one of the most quiet albums ever recorded).
But, of course, the album's main attraction is Mark's minimalistic guitar
playing. Obviously, he took his cue from J. J. Cale and Clapton, but he
carried that minimalism even further, relying more on the beauty of each
individual guitar note than on the beauty of a fast'n'fluent combination
of 'em (not that he couldn't play fast'n'fluent - check out the
breathtaking arpeggios on the fade-out of 'Sultans Of Swing'). Note that
the album should be played loud, very loud, or else you simply won't
have the possibility to soak in all of his little delicate tricks he plays
along the fretboard, particularly on numbers like 'Six Blade Knife'.
And what about the highlights on here? The first six songs all qualify.
We start our journey in the dark depths of 'Down To The Waterline', with
one of the moodiest introductions ever recorded on tape and an acute, blistering
drive. Did I mention the production yet? That dark, echoey, 'dusky' sound
that really gives you the impression of a dark Thames border where 'she
can still hear him whisper, let's go down to the waterline'? Amazing. Then
we get carried away into the metaphoric desert where Mark needs some 'Water
Of Love'; again, the lyrics are perfectly suited to the music, with a sparse
arrangement and Mark's 'dry-sounding' steel guitar really giving the impression
of desert traveling. 'Setting Me Up' is one of those bouncy numbers, with
a great danceable groove and a more personal feel to it; love the guitar
solo at the end. Then comes my current favourite, 'Six Blade Knife', a
song that's arguably more evil in its essence than all the heavy metal
genre put together. The monotonous, "boring" rhythm that seems
so intent on driving its point into the ground, Mark's lyrics about how
"Everybody got a knife it can be just what they want it to be/A needle
a wife or something that you just can't see" that you can almost see
delivered with a slight hint of a Satanic smile on the face, and again,
that irresistible minimalistic guitar going ping... ping... ping... in
the background - the song hardly reaches the tenth part of the basic volume
of a Deep Purple song, but the tension actually mounts ten times as fast.
And, of course, later on we return to London again to hear 'Sultans Of
Swing'. I'll keep silent about that one - everybody knows it and everybody
loves it, even if I'm a bit depressed about "radio overplay"
having effectively murdered its basic point in most listeners' minds. Ah
well, just boycott the radio, I say.
The last three songs is the point at which many people start to really
get bitchy - sure, 'In The Gallery', 'Wild West End' and 'Lions' don't
seem to be adding anything new, and this, taken together with their particular
lengthiness, is... eh, well, you get my drift. But actually, they're not
any less atmospheric or vivid than anything else on here; if anything,
I'd say that Mark's guitar doesn't take any particular new twists and that's
what renders them a wee bit colder than all the rest. Even so, 'In The
Gallery' has a great swing to it, as well as excellent lyrics that condemn
following fancy trends in modern art; 'Wild West End' is gentle, nostalgic
and picturesque; and 'Lions' ends the album on a note that we'd certainly
expect - deep nostalgia, pessimism and depression. 'I'm thinking about
the lions tonight... what happened to the lions?' Nobody knows.
To end it all, I'd say this: it is truly hard to enjoy the album immediately.
Just as it is perfectly ready to gladden the hearts of some people, it
does absolutely nothing for others. The point is that while it was written
by a relatively young man, its message is for the older generations - people
usually start listening to such music at least in their thirties, maybe
even fourties. If you're a twenty-plus old like me and enjoy this record,
well, lucky you are (or maybe we just got old a little too soon?) It is
a clear and obvious 'just say no' to the aggressive and raunchy spirit
of rock'n'roll and an embracement of 'quieter' and more 'relaxed' values
(note that I don't say 'mainstream' - Dire Straits is certainly
close to a 'mainstream' album, but so are lots of albums that are
aggressive and raucnhy). But even if you're a young punk lover or a happy
pop admirer, don't be quick to make the mistake of condemning this stuff
as 'boring'. Yes, it causes people to sit down, relax and 'introspect';
but what's wrong with that? Get off that choo-choo train and get some rest.
Year Of Release: 1979
Overall rating = 10
The best music for old men ever written by a young one. Horrendous.
Best song: SINGLE HANDED SAILOR
Whenever somebody comes up to me and says, 'That Dire Straits
album is some of the most boring shit I'd ever be a-hearin'!', I always
take a deep breath and say, 'You must have confused that one with Communique'.
(Okay, to be fair with you, I ain't never encountered such a situation,
but I figured out it would be a cool way to start the review!). Seriously,
now, Dire Straits' second album was a huge disappointment for me, and although
in retrospect I feel like I have earlier been a bit too harsh on the guys,
Communique is still not the best move that Knopfler could have made
at the time.
The album didn't make the band any new friends, and the old ones sure dug
it; but those who'd expected that Mark and his lads were there to save
rock'n'roll or anything, with their novel attitude, cynicism and impressive
playing, proved themselves mighty wrong. Communique is nothing but
a pale carbon copy of the band's debut: basically, everything that can
be found on this album can be found on its predecessor, but definitely
not vice versa. Yes, the band is still going on with the same vibe:
quiet, relaxative rootsy music with elements of jazz and country, driven
forward by Knopfler's dextrous guitar picking and his "dark hoarse"
of a voice. And I can't even say that the melodies on Communique
are all that weaker than before, because Dire Straits were never the masters
of unexpected melodic hook to begin with. But several important things
are lacking or have changed.
First of all, I'm kinda disappointed with the lyrics - a little. Where
the lyrics on Dire Straits were very much subject-oriented, drawing
vivid and impressive pictures of the dark and depressing "night London"
life, that really put you out in a world of its own, here Mark goes for
something far more intimate and personal, and thus, far from everyone can
identify with what he's actually saying. What the hell is 'Once Upon A
Time In The West' about, after all? One can only guess... Not that the
lyrics are bad; but this deeply-rooted, serious, pseudo-mystical attitude
to earthy reality is not what I'd expect out of Mark. Some say that he'd
been even further influenced by Dylan at the time, and this is possibly
true, considering that he helped Bob record his first Christian album at
the time and also that 'Angel Of Mercy' sounds like a pure Dylan rip-off;
but I also see a cheesy smell of Springsteen here, and I don't like it.
Leave Springsteen for the States and follow your own path. I far preferred
Knopfler singing about "french kisses in the darkened doorways"
and the Sultans of Swing.
Second and far more important, the sound is far less diverse here. What?,
you'll say. How can a Dire Straits album sound less diverse than their
debut? But come now, the debut was pretty diverse in that it at least set
slightly different moods. You got your nostalgic kick in 'Down To The Waterline',
your bit of despair and hope in 'Water Of Love', your bit of subtle menace
in 'Six Blade Knife', your bit of gentle romance in 'Wild West End', your
bit of angry social critique in 'Gallery' and even your couple of faster
dance numbers. Here, basically every song sets the same gloomy, monotonous,
melancholic pattern, and Knopfler uses more or less the same guitar tone
and tonality throughout the whole record. The only major exception is the
intentionally cheerful 'Angel Of Mercy', but like I said, it's such a blatant
Dylan rip-off that it ain't even funny.
What's worse, Communique is full of self-recycling. I mean, it was
tolerable when we had 'Down To The Waterline' and 'Sultans Of Swing' on
the same record, because they triggered different imagery in your head,
but what the hell is 'Lady Writer', the third rewrite of the tune,
doing here? Not to mention that I don't like the production. Apparently,
something happened - I'm a-guessin' that Mark's guitar meshes a bit too
much with brother David's rhythm playing and the resulting sound is thicker
and less spare than before, which isn't interesting at all. Cut the crap,
we're here to hear Mark, not his interplay with David. Another "highlight"
on the record is 'Once Upon A Time In The West', a future stage favourite,
and it sounds nice and moody, for sure, until you realize that it's actually
a near-perfect copy of 'In The Gallery', right down to certain rhythm syncopation
techniques. These two are the most obvious examples; I could go on for
kilobytes trying to pick out all the other similarities, but why should
I? Okay, just one more thing: 'Follow Me Home'. What the heck is that?
It borrows the rhythmic punch off 'Six Blade Knife', but it's bleaker,
blander, and far less distinctive. I rarely have the patience to sit through
the coda to the song - usually I switch off the CD long before the end.
Again, I reiterate that none of these defects is enough to condemn the
record by itself. It's just that when they are all combined together, you
suddenly realize that while the form is still the same, the breathtaking
magic has all but evaporated. Mind you, I still like the record because
I like the form; but try as I might, I can't give it more than an overall
ten, for a striking lack of originality or "magic". 'Once Upon
A Time In The West' is still a good tune despite its rip-offey nature;
'Where Do You Think You're Going?' is a little bewildering; and perhaps
only two songs can be treated as near-classics. These would have to be
'Portobello Belle', a very pretty and gentle ballad the likes of which
- I give - are missing on the debut album, and particularly 'Single Handed
Sailor', the song that distinguishes itself the most in my memory due to
actually posessing an interesting and memorable riff. The only one
on the album.
That said, the album appeals a lot to diehard Knopfler fans, and I can
hardly blame them. I just wouldn't go that deep, you know. For me Communique
is actually a very tragic event - sure, they'd pick up some steam later
on, but so far, they'd demonstrated that Knopfler's main force lied in
atmospherics, and that force wasn't going to be eternal.
Year Of Release: 1980
Overall rating = 11
More abstract and romantic this time, but at least it's not a clone
of the debut.
Best song: TUNNEL OF LOVE
Big changes here (at last) - brother David is out of the band for reasons
I wasn't too hot on finding out. They hadn't really recruited anybody in
his place yet, but Roy Bittan plays keyboards on most tracks instead...
Roy Bittan? He used to be with Springsteen, didn't he? Maybe that's why
this album sounds a lot like Bruce, which is hardly good news for me. See,
Making Movies isn't exactly a huge departure from the previous
two albums: it still relies heavily on all kinds of humble, minimalistic
sound patterns, rudimental melodies and atmospherics in the first place.
But it's certainly different. The keyboards often mellow out the level
of energy, but not necessarily in a bad sense. Mark tones down his guitar
in many places, often picking up the acoustic instead, and for the most
part staying away from the chuggy, boppy rhythms of old. In other words,
it's more of a true 'band' effort than usual, at least, as far as the playing
goes.
Another change is in the lyrics - Knopfler continues to get more and more
abstract, distancing himself from the striking 'dark London' imagery of
the debut and mostly just concentrating on love thematics. Heck, this is
'making movies' after all, not 'making noise' or 'making a fuss'. Love
movies, of course. Just look at the titles: 'Tunnel Of Love', 'Romeo And
Juliet', 'Expresso Love', 'Hand In Hand'... any more questions? This 'alienation'
from strictly Brit thematics does indeed result in some songs bearing a
striking similarity to Springsteen's overall style, except that this is
generally mellower, quieter and subtler than Bruce. It also helps that
most of the songs are at least moderately catchy.
'Tunnel Of Love' suggests that something's going wrong from the very beginning
- what's that keyboard intro from Rodgers and Hammerstein doing here? Weird,
although the song almost immediately metamorphoses into a far more traditional
and 'normal' trademark Dire Straits rocker. Eight minutes is a bit too
hard, I deem, but the lyrics are good (heck, they're hardly worse
than Costello, and that should say something), and the extended solo in
the outro, while not dazzling, is just as moody and thought-provoking as
ever, securing Mark's status as a worthy disciple and successor of Eric
Clapton when it comes up to playing a deeply emotional solo. Yeah yeah,
I know they're all washed up old coots now, but that's a different story.
We're talking nineteen eighty here.
The following five songs all qualify in one respect or another - the worst
that I can say, probably, is that not a single one of them manages to grip
me that tightly, for more or less obvious reasons. The songwriting
is good, but not spectacular; no truly gorgeous hooks, just a decent enough
level of songcrafting. In other words, there's a big fat pro and
a big fat contra to be stated about every one of them. 'Romeo And
Juliet', for instance, is lovely and romantic, but relies on the general
vibe of 'Wild West End' too much, even if it actually speeds up and becomes
louder in the middle. 'Skateaway' has a deply inspired chorus which I can
easily identify with (heck, I'm the one dreaming all these 'rock'n'roll
dreams' and 'making movies all night long'!), but the main verse melody
is dang near non-existent - what with the chuggin' guitar that's mixed
so poorly it almost isn't heard at all and all those annoying echoey drums.
'Expresso Love' almost deceives you from the beginning with its grim, grumbling
chords - you think it was going to be a gritty heavy rocker, but then in
comes the rollicking piano and you just get 'Tunnel Of Love Vol. 2'. Again,
the chorus is kinda catchy and the energy's high, but what's up with the
guitar solos? What a muddy sound! Jimmy Iovine should be shot for producing
in such a messy way. Then again, it's 'produced by Jimmy Iovine and Mark
Knopfler', so maybe it was Mark himself who made an asshole of himself.
'Hand In Hand' is pretty pedestrian too, but the chorus is catchy again.
Can't resist catchy choruses. And finally, 'Solid Rock' is the only really
rocking piece on the album, and a good one, and it is not a Christian
anthem, and it should not be confused with Dylan's song of the same
name released on Saved that same year - even if it's a really strange
coincidence, considering that Knopfler actually collaborated with Dylan
on Bob's previous album in 1979. Uncozy, isn't it?
The record, of course, is nearly ruined by the universally despised 'Les
Boys', a rather straightforward and stupid attack on everybody's favourite
minority set to a diddly duddly dinky melody that doesn't fit at all
with the rest of the album, but wouldn't suck per se if it weren't for
the stupid lyrics that don't fit at all with the rest of the album either.
But I don't actually hate the song - I don't know what drove Knopfler to
penning that 'pamphlet', apart from his being raped multiple times in Paris
gay clubs, of course, which he had a habit of visiting just for a quick
innocent order of some orange juice. If that's the case, we can all empathize,
can't we? And who could prove it was otherwise?
Seriously now, the record is slightly messy, but it's at least an improvement
on Communique - Knopfler actually tries to break out of the vicious
circle, and patchy as the record is, it still features good tunes (which
guarantee it a strong ten) and the impeccable Knopfler atmospherics and
excellent lyrics (which push the rating up to a VERY weak eleven).
Actually, my main gripe is that there are too few songs: seven?
He could have easily split a couple of them in two.
Year Of Release: 1977
Overall rating = 11
Pretty sure poor Elvis didn't give a damn about the whole punk thing
at this point...
Best song: WAITING FOR THE END OF THE WORLD
Since it is by now a well-known fact that Costello's first album had
been lumped in with the whole "punk" schenanigan just because
it happened to come out in 1977 (and it could have come out at just about
any time, except that, of course, in 1977 the record companies were
more benevolent towards such stuff than, say, in 1973), I won't prattle
too much about the cultural background of the epoch and stuff. Instead,
let me just tell you this is one excellent album - although it takes a
little time for it to sink in, well, just like about everything from Mr
Resuscitated Buddy Holly.
Elvis was just a plain simple working man, programming in some retarded
firm under his original McManus name, and quietly composing short, simple
tunes to put under his pillow - like you and me, I guess, like the plain
simple working man is supposed to. The big difference is that he got to
actually fulfill his dream and release some of these songs on an actual
LP. Of course, he hadn't yet had a chance to assemble a stable backing
band, and for My Aim Is True he is joined by the American band Clover
which I don't know that much about; seems like a pretty ordinary rockabilly
band to me. Actually, Elvis' first attempts at recording (in particular,
his demos and early outtakes, included on the CD re-release as bonus tracks)
veered closer to country and Randy Newman than rockabilly; but the resulting
product turned out to be somewhat more rocking, and thus, with stark, minimalist
arrangements and an obvious neglection towards "complex", it's
no wonder Mr Costello got branded as a "punk" by those who were
thus branding everything new that the year 1977 had produced.
So how are these songs? Simple, yes, simple and obviously derivative, yet
not so simple. Rockabilly, Buddy Holly and proto-pop are obviously the
direct influences for My Aim Is True, but there are two things one
should always keep in mind. One: the lyrics - mature, always interesting,
intelligent and far more meaningful and poetic than, say, Bruce Springsteen's
ramblings. And if "updating" Buddy Holly for the Seventies with
classy lyrics is not enough for you, then there's the second factor: good
melodies. Most of this stuff is not just catchy, like any solid Buddy Holly-penned
song would be; it's catchy in its own special way, with certain unstandard
chord changes, unexpectable twists and codas and melodies that even sometimes
border on dissonant - of course, it's a big question if this is a testimony
to Elvis' genius or his unprofessionality at the time, but that's up to
the serious fan to think about. Of course, there are a couple of exceptions
- like 'Mystery Dance', the fastest track on the album, which is just a
mindless clone of just about any Fifties' rocker imaginable (except for
the lyrics, of course) - but in general, listening to this record gives
me a clear indication of one fact: this record, even with a simplification
of the lyrics, could not have come out in the Fifties. And "blame
it on Cain, don't blame it on me", but it's pretty obvious that the
level of songwriting displayed herein seriously superates any true
"punk" record made in 1977, yes, even including The Clash.
Elvis just doesn't get to mask any of his supposed "weaknesses"
with the wall of anger, distortion, loudness and plain noise that the punks
so often abused. Here, if the song is good, it's obviously good; if the
song is bad (which is rare), it is just as obviously bad. Really
hard to deceive oneself.
The 'simpler' songs on My Aim Is True just chug along, producing
a good effect nevertheless. Out of these, 'Miracle Man' and 'Blame It On
Cain' are my favourites; nothing particularly outstanding here, but I just
like to think of them as nice Fifties' tributes with a very personal feel
- the first one deals with the problems of relationships between, you know,
'Her and Me' (Elvis' take on 'It Ain't Me Babe', I guess), while the second
one carries a deep philosophical message of "we need somebody to burn",
which is really as deep as Elvis' life philosophy goes, but that's not
too shallow either. And Elvis' lonely ballad on the album, 'Alison', is
pretty heartfelt, although the ending sure seems extended to me (actually,
this is a general problem of the record - most of the songs are so short
that Elvis and Clover for some strange reason thought they had to pan 'em
out with extended codas, sometimes longer than the songs themselves!).
But, of course, it's the "less trivial" stuff that ultimately
serves as a rating-defining factor for the record. 'Welcome To The Working
Week', for instance, a one and a half minute lament over the lack of soul
in today's busy technological world, which takes the traditional boogie
structure and turns it upside down while still preserving the catchiness
and memorability (not to mention the "message" - what a perfect
anthem for the 'man of office labour'! Sums up in one and a half minutes
everything that Ray Davies wanted to tell over the course of an entire
Soap Opera). Likewise with '(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes';
likewise with the excellent two tracks that close out the record. Out of
these, 'Waiting For The End Of The World' is my favourite, and strange
enough, it might be the closest thing to something 'punky' on the album
- speed it up, add some extra distortion, and voila. What a drive,
what power, what a message. Groovy.
It is indeed an interesting thing that the album begins to "solidify"
itself near the end - after the rockabilly sendup 'Pay It Back', we witness
at least one richly arranged track, the thunderstormy 'I'm Not Angry'
(punk? When he's naming his songs like that?), then 'Waiting For The End
Of The World', then the reggae-influenced 'Watching The Detectives'. This
intelligent 'record construction' actually works as a bonus - you start
out with the 'lightweight' tunes and then, the more the record progresses,
the more you get the feeling it's been penned by a really serious and talented
artist. Thus, I'm quite content to give it an 11 despite all the 'tribute'
factors; it is certainly far from Costello's peak (no matter what Rolling
Stone tells you, acclaiming this as a peak for Elvis is akin to considering
Please Please Me the Beatles' finest hour), but it's nevertheless
a consistent, engaging record which you're bound to love if you can get
over Elvis' lack of good singing voice - and you should.
Year Of Release: 1978
Overall rating = 12
Pretty sure poor Elvis did give a damn about the whole punk
thing at this point...
Best song: PUMP IT UP? THE BEAT? CHELSEA? Crap!
Elvis' second album is a real treat and one of his finest hours, maybe
even the finest hour. For This Year's Model, he had finally
managed to assemble a stable backing band - the Attractions, dominated
primarily by Steve Nieve on keyboards (oh, and Elvis Costello on vocals,
guitar and songwriting, of course). They, however, had nothing to do with
rockabilly, sticking to a far more modernistic, slightly paranoid brand
of... err... 'soft punk', should we call it, with New Wave elements such
as poppy hi-tech synthesizers thrown in, and so This Year's Model
sees Elvis relinquishing the role of Buddy Holly for the new generation
and climbing on the Clash pedestal instead (by the way, Mick Jones is featured
as a guest player on one of the bonus tracks).
Does it work? Definitely. Now I wouldn't agree with diehards that claim
there ain't no filler on the album. There certainly is, and mind you, Costello
was never a Beatles-quality songwriter - most of his material sounds
rushed and hurried in comparison with the elaborate, meticulous work of
the Fab Four and certain other superior bands. I'm pretty sure, for instance,
that at least half of these songs could have worked better with more thought-out
arrangements. And is it just me or do Costello's acoustic demos sound just
as good as the later band arrangements? Because his early demos of 'Greenshirt'
and 'Big Boys', also present as bonus tracks, sound just as good to me
as the later so-called "polished" versions on Armed Forces
(and, by the way, we will disregard the fact that the main riff and vocal
melody of 'Greenshirt' are ripped off from the Kinks' 'Powerman', because
that's another story altogether).
Anyway, that's just me whining. Another - very minor this time - complaint
is that it takes a bit of time to get used to Elvis singing this stuff;
his voice obviously worked better on the rockabilly material of My Aim,
but for a bouncy pop record you'd expect something, eh, nicer than his
nasty whine which really annoys me at times. Off-key, overemoted
singing on catchy pop songs? Hmm... Then again, sometimes it does work
out to his advantage, particularly when the song needs some complaintive,
depressed intonation, like 'The Beat', for instance.
But generally, this is an excellent record. Some people also complain about
the lack of diversity, claiming that on this record Elvis and the Attractions
simply burned the house down with their speed, anger, and paranoia, and
never give us a chance to truly soak in everything. Well - the same accusation
can be thrown at The Clash, but I think that for TYM this
is but half-true. Sure there are speedy angry rockers, but there are also
moderate, mid-tempo gloomy pop songs like 'The Beat' and 'This Year's Girl',
and that bit of silly soul in 'Little Triggers', and the album never really
comes across as monotonous.
The first five songs, in fact, could all qualify as patented Costello classics.
'No Action' greets us with a two-minute fury of catchy vocal melodies and
pretty backing vocals set to a truly punkish rhythm (but remember that
Elvis never sets his guitar tone too low or overabuses distortion, so don't
expect any Ramones buzz on here). 'This Year's Girl' is Elvis' vicious
attack on... no, not on girls, rather on the "commercial decline"
of the modern world, replete with a groovy drum pattern, courtesy of the
trusty Pete Thomas, and directly influenced by the Stones' 'Stupid Girl',
but different. But I far prefer 'The Beat' and its wonderful end-of-the-world
atmosphere, like a 'straightened out' Police, but with a deep human touch.
The 'just the beat, just the beat' coda is simply wonderful. 'Pump It Up'
with nasty sexual hints is the album's most gruff and menacing track -
don't you love that gruesome cynical rap that Elvis is 'pumping out', heavily
accentuated by Pete Thomas' smashing beat? Throw in an ultra-catchy riff
in between the verses, and you get the album's most memorable track. And
'Little Triggers' is a groovy, but at the same time deeply emotional attempt
at doing something more soulful, this record's 'Alison'.
The album loses a wee bit steam after that, with a couple of misplaced
hooks - 'You Belong To Me' and 'Hand In Hand' don't seem to be so distinctive,
but still, the former bops along nicely with infectious synthesizer bleeps
and the latter... the latter bops along nicely with... with... whatever,
I'm not good at describing this kind of stuff. But then another smash in
the form of '(I Don't Want To Go To) Chelsea', this time directed at the
excesses of film industry, and again, the rambling, 'broken' melody is
ideally fit for Elvis' voice here, as the strain he demonstrates only helps
to accentuate the tension and suffering of the 'protagonist'. Plus, it
features a wonderful 'tension release' with that synth/guitar interplay
letting out steam after each of Elvis' hyper-strained '...I don't w-anna
g-go to Chelsea-ea-ea...'. And then there's the infectious, gracefully
upbeat 'Lip Service', the corny, but hilarious reggae send-up 'Living In
Paradise', and another unabashed, spiteful rocker in 'Lipstick Vogue' -
all three at the top of Costello's game in each of the three genres (pop,
reggae, rock). Unfortunately, the album ends in the dull and pointless
'Night Rally', one of Elvis' first songs dealing with Nazism (that theme
would flourish on the subsequent record), but if you're smart and you got
the Rykodisc reissue like me, this will definitely be not the end, because
there are bonus tracks. 'Radio Radio' is the best of these, but like I
said, I also enjoy the heck of Elvis' acoustic demos and I suppose you
probably will, too.
The Court's Decision: this is definitely worthy. A 'justified purchase',
as some advisors might say. Getting past Elvis' raspiness and the Attractions'
paranoia, there is no return - you'll be forced to love this. With a few
reservations, probably, but as far as pure, unadulterated, unhindered songwriting
goes, this is Mr Costello's moment of true stellar glory; melodically,
he would hardly ever top this.
Year Of Release: 1979
Overall rating = 12
New Wavey pop with a conceptual edge and a diversifying variety of
various diversity. Gee, I hate the army too.
Best song: OLIVER'S ARMY
Fie on you, Elvis. See, this could be Costello's masterpiece
- undisputed masterpiece, that is, since even in this form Armed Forces
manages to garner more or less the same rating as This Year's Model
- but somehow it isn't. Somehow? I know how! It's his singing, consarnit!
On no other record does his singing constitute such a major throwback as
on this one. Okay, so I could disregard that problem on the first album
(do you need to have a good voice if you're a rockabilly guy?); it bothered
me significantly on the second album, but I got over it (after all, it
was more punk rock than anything, and do you need to have a good voice
if you're a punker guy?). But Armed Forces is another huge step
forward for Costello musically, as he plunges deep into the world of complex
New Wave music, often forgetting angry rock for subtle poppy structures,
and heck, if you're into mature pop, you need a good voice. Okay,
so not everybody can have a good voice; but what actually bothers
me more is that in more than a few cases Elvis drastically overrates his
voice. Don't your eardrums nearly burst at his off-key croaky chanting
in 'Accidents Will Happen'? Particularly in the stripped-down piano-only
version presented here as a bonus track, where his ugly (or should I say
'intentionally uglified?' voice) isn't obscured by anything. Ugh, I nearly
had a fit here. And what about the hilarious Nick Lowe cover that ends
the album? It's almost as if Elvis tries to 'press' his voice down, falling
on it with all his weight, but it still rebounds back and the produced
effect is almost gross. (Then again, John Alroy did call that vocal 'outstanding'
- so I guess it's all a matter of subjective tastes. Gotta root it out,
gotta root it out).
One point off the rating because of that, please, and because some of the
songs seem to be underarranged - I feel that a bit more slickiness couldn't
have hurt this nearly-perfect album of New Wave/dance pop (and sure, some
of these songs can easily fall into the category of 'dance pop', which
is not necessarily a bad thing at all - some complain about the album being
way too 'generic New Wave', but that's all right by me as long as the melodies
are memorable). But now that I vented myself, I can state with equal ease
that melody-wise, Armed Forces is not an iota worse than its predecessor.
Thirteen songs on here, with a minimal amount of filler - okay, I have
never understood where's that famous hidden hook residing in 'Big Boys',
and a couple other tunes are a bit duller than the rest, plus, 'Chemistry
Class' rather blatantly gives us a re-run of 'Accidents Will Happen', but
everything else is classic, not to mention the bonus tracks on the new
re-issue, which just might be the best bonus tracks on any given Costello
album.
So what's up with the album? It's rather easy to see that it's a conceptual
one, with Elvis selecting the Army as his primary goal and making it one
of the most powerful anti-militarism statements since... well, since at
least the Kinks' Arthur, I'd say. I wonder if the elephants on the
cover are supposed to be a metaphor, and if yes, a metaphor for what? So
far, the album cover has only induced me to misspell the title of the first
song as 'Elephants Will Happen' a few times. Speaking of which, even despite
the creeky crooky vocals, 'Accidents Will Happen' is a perfect pop number
that leads us in with the trademark Costello feature - a short accapella
start that leads in the band. And from then on, it's just one mini-triumph
after another.
'Senior Service' is wonderful and boppy (isn't that ascending keyboard
line a marvel?), but perhaps the best thing in it is the unexpected shift
from soft and boppy to angry and raunchy, with Elvis rapping out the lyrics
in the 'Pump It Up' tradition. Then there's 'Oliver's Army'. This one was
certainly written under serious ABBA influence (Elvis himself stated that,
so I'm not imagining things) - the opening pompous piano chords are pretty
much lifted off 'Dancing Queen', but the song itself is not, although I
think ABBA would make a good job trying to reproduce it. Hear that, snubby
ABBA bashers? This band has served as an influence for more of your favourite
artists than you could possibly imagine... 'Green Shirt', as I already
mentioned earlier, rips off the melody of the Kinks' 'Powerman', but it's
still a great catchy number that arguably superates the 'original'. And
'Party Girl' introduces Costello the 'power balladeer', with a heavy rhythmic
beat and a thick, pounding rhythm guitar (not to mention more ABBA-esque
sparkling piano lines) that give the tune a steady epic feel.
The second side kicks off with the spooky 'Goon Squad', the centerpiece
of Costello's concept - a song written in the form of a paranoid letter
written home by a soldier who complains that he 'never thought they'd put
me in the goon squad'. Watch out for that arrangement! Do you hear the
faint organs in the background? That's subtlety for you! Plus, it's the
side that's most diverse - after that spookiness, you'll also get the weird
waltz 'Sunday's Best', the irresistable robotic dance 'Moods For Moderns',
the humble reggae of 'Two Little Hitlers', and, of course, that Nick Lowe
cover, '(What's So Funny 'bout) Peace Love And Understanding?' Again, despite
the forced vocals, it's a true Costello classic - booming, raging, epic,
and oh so true. I mean, really, what's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?
I do wanna know that too, especially considering all those cretinic
hippie-bashers ridiculizing 'peace vibes' everywhere. It's because of those
people that Elvis had to put out Armed Forces, you understand. Keep
it up, Mr McManus!
Whew, there's the bonus tracks, too. 'My Funny Valentine' is Costello doing
accappella goth. That's either an unprecedented case of audacity or just
kinky. You decide - I still can't. But the following four tracks are all
minor delights which I won't mention one by one because I'm tired, plus
there's a live rendition of 'Accidents Will Happen' that's atrocious, a
live rendition of 'Alison' that's funny because the audience all goes wild
each time Costello blurbs out 'my aim is true...', and a live rendition
of 'Watching The Detectives' that's extended and experimental. Don't worry,
the record is anything but boring.
Sure takes some time to get used to, though - I hated it at first listen,
and I can easily see why some fans rate it as a slight fall-off from the
level of This Year's Model: the hooks are less obvious, and the
serious energy is replaced by a colder and subtler New Wavish approach.
But oh boy, does it grow on you. It does it does it does. Give it a chance.
Year Of Release: 1981
Overall rating = 11
Very formulaic and monotonous for the Attractions, but just keep
digging for the hooks...
Best song: YOU'LL NEVER BE A MAN
My Costello catalog has yet to grow, but I'm pretty sure that no
other album in the Elvis legacy is actually more difficult to appreciate
than this 1981 offering. See, after such high points as the New Wave-ish
This Year's Model and Armed Forces, Costello retreads to
a style that could be called something like 'Basic Attractions', i.e. simple,
undemanding bandwork with virtually no interesting or innovative
ideas at all. The entire album is based on the band getting together and,
well, getting it on. Which means they just hack away at their instruments
without really bothering to make the music go in any particular direction
- I can't even pinpoint the style they're using because it lacks any
distinctive features at all. They try out different rhythms, for sure (all
of them generic), but the instrumentation is so monotonous it's hardly
existent at all: crucial emphasis is put on Steve Nieve's keyboards, and
they quickly become tedious. And the guitars? They do nothing but provide
some, er, 'musical' backup. It almost seems as if Elvis was just keen on
penning lyrics and blurting them out this time, without paying attention
to whatever surrounded his vocal workouts.
And to tell the truth, even the vocal workouts aren't all that hot. Much
too often, it seems like Elvis is just getting out of trouble through exaggerated
vocal modeling and pathos (and the band replies by making drummer Pete
Thomas bash out on his cymbals as if the world depended on it). Needless
to say, this creates a rather phoney feeling, and sometimes it stays with
me to the very end, like in the case of the much overrated 'White Knuckles'
- a song that has nothing going for it apart from a sloppy monotonous
beat, or the filler bit 'Fish 'n' Chip Paper' (at least, that one has got
the only guitar solo on the whole album), or the somewhat lame retro rocker
'Luxembourg', where the Gene Vincent-style echoey production can't really
compensate for lack of ideas. In short, Trust obviously shows the
Attractions on the verge of stagnation, and the public wasn't amused either,
dropping the album off the charts rather quickly. No wonder Elvis had to
undergo such a radical change of style soon afterwards.
Still, repeated listenings still bring out the power and intricacy of Costello's
vocal melodies - and the album still gets a weak overall rating of eleven
because more than half of the songs have at least something to make
them stand out. It goes without saying, of course, that you have to grow
yourself a real fondness for Elvis' 'clumsy' way of vocalizing and rough-going
hooks to get through to the essence, so be prepared for numerous repeated
listenings; I had to keep listening to this stuff for a whole week on end
to break through, for instance.
The first side of the record qualifies in its entirety, apart from the
misstep of 'Luxembourg'. 'Clubland' is a perfect introduction, powerful
and pathetic and socially biting and so on - if your heart isn't tightly
squeezed as Elvis wails 'they leave you half way to paradise, they leave
you half way to bliss', you're probably a Kiss fan. 'Lovers' Walk' is one
of the few musically interesting songs on the album, playing some
cool tricks with the traditional Bo Diddley rhythms (Steve Nieve's piano
impersonation of Bo Diddley is really something!). 'Pretty Words' has a
really catchy vocal melody - in the traditional sense of the word,
not the 'warped Costello sense' of the word. 'Strict Time' is the second
musically interesting song on the album, sounding like something of a hybrid
between calypso and Bo Diddley once again. And 'Watch Your Step' is clumsy,
for sure, but kinda cute...
However, the very best of the bunch, and a true Costello classic, should
be considered 'You'll Never Be A Man', the only song that impressed me
from the very beginning. A complex structure, a beautiful classical piano
introduction, a wonderful flow of the many sections of the song with incredible
alternations of moods, and an equally incredible drive that beats all competition
on the part of other songs from the album into the ground. Classic and
classic again.
The second side, unfortunately, doesn't have as many memorable moments
- songs like 'New Lace Sleeves' and the Squeeze member Glenn Tilbrook duet
'From A Whisper To Scream', often hailed as classics, both have good choruses
(especially the dreamy, atmospheric chorus of 'Lace Sleeves'), but both
of them would probably have worked better in the context of a better written
song. 'Different Finger' is a strange attempt at country balladeering -
predicting Elvis' 'country period'. It's not bad, but it's hardly something
to wave your flag about. 'Shot With His Own Gun' is the highlight here
(gloomy, almost pseudo-goth ballad), together with the dark, sarcastic
'Big Sister's Clothes', i.e. the second side is more attractive when it
comes to softer material, which means either that Elvis really didn't have
enough inspiration to write a sufficient number of rockin' tunes or that
these rockin' tunes are actually so monotonous that it's an impossible
task to properly evaluate the second side because your energy is completely
spent on the first one. Whatever.
The bonus tracks on the Rykodisc re-issue don't help matters much - I think
that 'Black Sails In The Sunset' is a very good song, but that's about
it. What really bugs me is that Trust can in no way be called a
'global failure': it's obvious that Costello still had a lot of things
left to say at this point, it's just that he didn't manage to find the
correct way to say them. You also have to consider the liner notes, where
Elvis states that the recording sessions for the album were a real mess,
not to mention that many of the songs were older outtakes (and it seems
like it, because the 'clumsiness' of some of the tunes really make them
far more similar to the material on My Aim Is True than to anything
that followed). Despite all this, Trust is a must: the lyrics have
never been better, and, well, if you're a Costello fan, you'll hardly be
bored with this stuff like I was for a very long time. It's just hardly
essential.
Year Of Release: 1979
Overall rating = 13
Is this really "white reggae"? More like "cosmic-fuelled
pop" to me.
Best song: MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
Simply put, this is a great record. Did it save rock? No, it didn't,
but for a short time, it kept rock alive. Let me clarify myself: Reggatta
De Blanc was without a slightest doubt the greatest album of 1979,
barely edging out the Talking Heads' Fear Of Music and... and...
nothing else. (Let's not mention The Wall here, okay? We're not
talking dinos). If the Police debut already established them as full-grown,
mature artists from the very beginning, then Reggatta De Blanc has
the band coming into their own. Seriously now, is there anything in the
world that resembles the general musical style of this album? Nothing.
For me, Reggatta De Blanc is also a great example of how an album
cover is able to fit in the general mood of the record. The grim, blueish
overtones of the (rather simplistic) cover immediately remind one both
of the 'night' ('Bring On The...') and of the 'moon' ('Walking On The...').
This is not a depressing or a morose record at all, yet it always gives
the feeling of something slightly otherworldly - and yet it is not exactly
sci-fi rock. The Police certainly take off, but they don't go very far
- they're not Syd Barrett and they're not even Brian Eno. They are floating
in mid-air, waving their hands (and drumsticks) at you, inviting you to
take a walk on the moon or something like that. And the major highlights
of the album make even the simpler and more realistic songs on here acquire
that 'mystical blueish tint'. Is 'It's Alright For You' a simple, throwaway
punkish number? No! It isn't! It fully fits the mood, and actually, before
somebody else started drawing my attention to the fact that it is, indeed,
a punk number, I never even noticed that.
Certainly, the album's two major classics, 'Message In A Bottle' and 'Walking
On The Moon', overshadow almost everything else in terms of songwriting
quality and epic stance. They're overplayed for sure, or maybe they're
not overplayed (they should be anyway), but who gives a damn when both
of them are solidly in the Top 10 New Wave songs ever written? Copeland's
drumming on 'Walking On The Moon' alone is able to guarantee the song absolute
immortality, but when it's coupled with Summers' magic chord (the echoey
'BA-ba-m-m-m-mmmm...' that is repeated throughout the song, yet I can never
get enough of it) and Sting's high vocals, it reaches complete perfection.
And 'sending out an S.O.S.'? Hmm?
Okay, let's concentrate on the lesser stuff. As somebody who's deeply convinced
of the Police being rock's greatest musical outfit since the 'Golden Age',
I find it useless to bitch about whether there is or there isn't any filler
on here - some of the tunes might be considered "filler" by the
band's standards, just as some of the Beatles' tunes might be considered
"filler" by their standards, but they're all good. The
only tune which hardly does anything for me is Copeland's 'On Any Other
Day'; it's pretty funny, but sounds rather scattered and lacks a distinct
hookline as opposed to everything else. Yes, everything else does have
distinct hooklines, including the rest of Copeland's stuff. Chris Welch
may hate the guy, dismissing ninety percent of his compositions, but how
can one really dismiss 'Contact', when that rumbling bassline and deep
booming vocals in the verses gotta be the scariest moment on the whole
record?
I do agree with the critics, however, that Copeland's third song on here,
'Does Everyone Stare', is radically different from the rest of the endless
groove and is based more on German cabaret melodies than "white reggae".
But it's nice and catchy anyway, and my golden rule #1 is this: if a song
is good, it's good. Who cares if it disrupts a 'perfectly flowing' album?
If it is really good, you'll get used to it anyway; if you can't get used
to it, it wasn't that good in the first place. The Police might have inserted
a doo-wop number in between 'Bring On The Night' and 'Deathwish' for all
I care; if it were good, you wouldn't hear me complaining.
And the rest? 'Reggatta De Blanc' is a wonderful instrumental that excellently
showcases the Police as a band (well, okay, they all excellently
showcase the Police as a band, but here, you won't have Sting vocals taking
you away from the instrumental prowess of the band members). It rocks and
swings, and while my rough ear actually perceives the number as one of
the least reggae-influenced tracks on the record, the drive and
atmospherics are undeniable. What the hell is "white reggae",
anyway? We didn't have no friggin' "white blues", at least, we
who don't invent this term as a scarecrow for Eric Clapton fans; why do
we need a "white reggae", then? Never mind...
'It's Alright For You' is, like I already mentioned, a punkish leftover
from the last record, but like I also mentioned, it doesn't really sound
all that punkish in the context of the record. 'Bring On The Night' is
a moody and graceful reggae ballad, graced by that wonderful Sting chorus,
and 'The Bed's Too Big Without You' is more of the same. 'Deathwish', the
only "group" composition, rocks pretty hard utilising complex
tempo changes, and after all the 'weird' Copeland numbers, the album closes
on a suitable note, with the speedy super-energetic 'No Time This Time'.
Copeland's drumming is at his all-time best on the track, and Sting's throbbing
bass runs are breathtaking, plus Mr Summers throws in the best guitar solo
on the whole record (which is surprisingly mediocre anyway - Andy was never
that good at lead playing). But the best part are, of course, Sting's wild
wails on the chorus...
If there's anything that mars Reggatta and prevents it from getting
the highest possible rating, it's a frustrating lack of diversity. Sure,
the Police have developed a sound that's totally unique, but there's just
too few sides of that sound explored on the album. Every song has
its distinct hooks, but after a while they all start kinda floating together;
simply put, the band's bag o' tricks here is a wee bit limited. This is
not an accusation - like so many other revolutionary albums, Reggatta
De Blanc is, basically, so revolutionary that it hurts, in the literal
sense. That said, it is still a great album, coming from one of rock's
greatest bands, and the defect would be corrected on the next record anyway.
Year Of Release: 1980
Overall rating = 14
Mmm... how could I explain that? This is, simply put, the 'Revolver'
of the Police. Too bad they didn't have their Sgt Pepper...
Best song: just about anything bar the instrumentals, and even these are
great
Oh well, this is the record that holds some of my personal records.
Not only do I consider this to be the best Police record ever, this is
also the best New Wave record ever, and quite possibly, the best record
ever recorded by a 'fresh' artist after rock's 'golden era', i.e. the best
album recorded over the last twenty five years at least. This, however,
only refers to the aspect of 'brilliant musical texture': if you're looking
for a deep message, you'd better be off with your London Calling
or your Joshua Tree or your OK Computer, which are all solid
records but come nowhere near the sheer innovative magnificence of the
Police. Oh well, then again, I could seriously question the Beatles' albums
as to what concerns 'deep message' - Zenyatta is hardly 'shallower'
than any given Fab Four creation.
In fact, comparisons with the Beatles aren't entirely unjustified: Zenyatta
is the kind of record that really strikes you more or less in the same
nerve centers as does listening to the Beatles' classic mid-Sixties output.
In the way that you can't really formulate what is so great about
this stuff... but it sure is. Creatively, this was the Police's ultimate
peak, where everything seems to come together and gel. I guess you could
call it a 'transitional' album, as some parts of it leer back to the earlier
'lightweight' white reggae stuff, while other parts, most notably some
of the instrumental compositions, sound closer to the 'mature Police' sound
of 1981-83 (i.e. the synths, heavy arrangements, etc.). But that's alright
by me; the Police are one of those bands whose transitional albums are
actually better than the non-transitional ones because they're simply not
allowing themselves to put out inferior material. If they were exploring
a new style or approach, they wanted the best and they usually got it -
perhaps it is this particular norm that really puts them nearly
in the same league as the Beatles.
Unfortunately, Zenyatta is sometimes heavily underrated, which always
grieves me, but I always console myself with the fact that there is no
general consensus whatsoever about what the best album of the Police actually
is - and that is definitely the sign of a truly immortal band. In
fact, I dare say that out of their five studio albums, perhaps only Ghost
In The Machine rarely gets considered as candidate for 'best' (and
even so, three out of eleven commentators on the Prindle site have ranked
it as their best anyway!). Isn't that amazing?
Anyway, back to the album in question. It is dang near perfect. The main
distinction from the past is in that the band has included quite a few
instrumentals this time - perhaps it was due to the record being 'rushed',
as they said, but then again, it seems like every early Police album was
'rushed', so I wouldn't know. These four instrumentals get bashed a lot,
but personally, I consider them unique, idiosyncratic, innovative and atmospheric.
At least the first three. 'Voices Inside My Head' is based upon a classic
echoey Summers riff, while Sting counterpoints it with an equally impressive
bassline and Mr Copeland is there as usual with all his tremendous fills.
The song matches its title perfectly, particularly when Sting begins chanting
the title somewhere from up above, and the band's dreadful 'CHA! CHA! CHA!'
used to scare the shit out of me when I was a kid. Summers' 'Behind My
Camel', notorious for winning a Grammy for the best instrumental composition,
might or might not have deserved it, but where else will you encounter
such a tremendous synth/guitar interlocking pattern? Of course, Andy's
synth-processed guitar riff can get monotonous, but come on, it's less
than three minutes long, and I have learned to treat these things as they
deserve after listening to Brian Eno (Andy obviously listened to Brian
Eno as well - and to Robert Fripp, too, to both of whom he owes a little
something. He later collaborated with Fripp, by the way).
The half-instrumental 'Shadows In The Rain' might take some time getting
used to, as it's pretty 'weird', but there's so much going on in that track
that I wouldn't even know where to start. The brilliant idea of bringing
the drums far higher in the mix than everything else; the minimalistic
bassline; Andy's ferocious guitar fireworks that you won't be hearing unless
you turn the volume up pretty loud; and Sting's tribal wallowings about,
well, shadows in the rain. Well, it's not that much, but it sure
is enough to pump the level of 'atmosphericness' to the max so that I can
actually visualize the shadows in the rain. Finally, the only thing
that slightly lets the album down is 'The Other Way Of Stopping', but it
comes on at the very end of the album and is partially salvaged by more
incredible drumming from rock's hottest basher of the epoch, so I really
don't mind. Remember, even Revolver had its 'Doctor Robert'.
And the actual songs are all winners - seven little pop/reggae/ska
gems that deserve to be in everybody's collection. I suppose everybody
knows the classic singles 'Don't Stand So Close To Me', with the infamous
little sexy schoolgirl/big horny teacher theme, and 'De Do Do Do De Da
Da Da' with some of the catchiest melodies of the epoch (and not so trivial
either - the tempo changes alone in 'De Do Do Do' are pretty weird); but
they're not any better than most of the rest. Thus, 'Driven To Tears' with
its relentless beat and gritty bassline is angrier in its quietness and
bitter sarcastic approach than most of the 'hardcore' stuff you ever heard
(the song refers to the unhappiness of the third world countries and their
being betrayed by the more successful part of the world, a topic not wholly
unfamilar for Sting's solo work). Meanwhile, 'When The World Is Running
Down You Make The Best Of What's Still Around' fully deserves its fourteen-word
title with Summers' echoey ringing chords and Sting's excellent vocal workout.
These are the 'serious classics' - but the hidden gem of the record is
the hilarious lightweight ska excourse 'Canary In A Coalmine', where the
boys speed up the standard tempo and come out with something lovely, irresistable
and tremendously funny. For my money, Andy Summers' guitar never
sounded that playful and amusing again, and I would be hard pressed to
find any analogy in the rock world. Another dive into ska is 'Man
In A Suitcase', quite different because the tempo is slower and the basic
vocal melody emphasizes Sting's personal troubles with 'living in a suitcase'
(you know what he means, doncha? All 'em rich fat rockers got the same
problems...) more than the sarcastic intonation in 'Canary'. Classy catchy
refrain. And finally, don't forget Copeland's pretty anti-war send-up 'Bombs
Away', which might just be the best song he's ever penned. Or maybe not.
In any case, I don't call the album flawless - perhaps it would
have been a wiser choice to replace the final instrumental with a full
normal composition, or maybe get the tracks arranged in a different order,
whatever. But no other Police album has such a high level of diversity
(from the hilarity of 'Canary' to the anger of 'Tears' to the eccentricity
of 'Voices'), and no other Police album has such an immaculate run as the
first five songs of this album - had they been released on an EP, I would
have given it a 15 and proclaimed it the EP to end all other EPs. Tough
luck. Too bad the Police never really topped this thing, or, worse, never
really advanced it further - their next two albums are actually far more
'mainstream' as far as the overall sound goes. Which makes me question
myself: was this accidental or was this direction in which they took music
on Reggatta De Blanc and Zenyatta a dead end in itself?
Year Of Release: 1978
Overall rating = 11
Diddy-did-did-diddy-dy-dee... di-did-did-did-did-d-d-d-dii... That's
the sound of the Talking Heads, if you're not aware.
Best song: WITHOURLOVETHEGOODTHINGWARNINGSIGNTHEGIRLS... yeah, yeah,
up to track number nine.
Is More Songs the album that defines New Wave? Well... both yes,
it does, and no, it doesn't. "No" in the sense that it's hard
to define New Wave at all. What is New Wave? Much as I love definitions,
I can hardly define this term, and it's good: it shows that New Wave wasn't
so much a distinct musical style all enclosed in itself than just a solid
musical period in which classic Sixties' pop was temporarily revived on
a different scale. Therefore, just as you can't give a uniform definition
to 'Sixties pop', in the same way you can't give a definition to New Wave.
The Talking Heads, the Cars, and the Police are all New Wave, but is their
music similar? Hmm... in a certain way, yes, but certainly not as similar
as the music of any two selected heavy metal bands or any two selected
rap combos.
That said, More Songs is still a quintessential New Wave record,
more so than any Police or Cars record. And on the surface, this isn't
very good. As the Heads combine forces with producer Brian Eno (St Eno's
Fire!!), who would remain their main 'spiritual guide' throughout their
golden period, they fully embrace the famous 'paranoid' writing and performing
style they are most well-known for. More Songs' main attraction
are, of course, the guitars - Byrne's maniacal voice and Tina Weymouth's
funky bass are mere pleasant decorations, an important part of the overall
sound but never its essence. But oh those guitars. The album is quite revolutionary
in the way it completely redefines the guitar sound of the Seventies. There
is certainly a lot of Eno influence on here; I can trace the way Byrne's
and Harrison's guitars actually sound to some of Eno's own albums, most
notably Taking Tiger Mountain, and, not coincidentally, Eno himself
is also credited with some of the guitars for this album. But this album
is all about the guitars. How can this sound be described? Paranoid
and funky, sure, but more than just paranoid and funky. Perhaps the best
example of this addictive buzz is 'Stay Hungry'. It's actually a very complex
sound, based on overdubs of several fast jerky guitar rhythms crossed with
each other, sometimes bopping along at different speed, sometimes with
different special effects and Eno-treatments, but the key to their essence
is that the resulting sound is not of a robotic character. If you
listen closely, you'll see that it features all kinds of weird syncopation,
plus the band has a lot of fun with volume and tonality effects - sometimes
that droning buzz becomes just a wee bit faster, sometimes just a wee bit
slower, then a wee bit quieter, then a wee bit louder, then they intentionally
miss a note or two, then they put in a trifle of a wah-wah effect for a
couple of seconds. All of these things are very hard to perform live, of
course, and I'd bet you anything that a lot of the effect was lost in concert,
but as a studio experience, this is as wonderful as it ever gets. It goes
without saying that these rhythms served as one of the primary influences
for Eighties and Nineties dance-pop, but the brainless popsters missed
the 'human' factor in the sound and just went along with the robotic one.
The profanes!!
But remember, I said something about this record being a quintessential
New Wave record not being very good. And why's that? Because in search
for that weird drone, the Heads and top Head Byrne forgot to bother about
the melodies. In a certain sense, again, there are melodies here,
but they all seem to be secondary in relation to the sound. Truthfully,
I simply can't tell most of the songs apart - the only thing that helps
is that the band is so paranoid they never make any pauses within actual
songs, so whenever a short break comes on, you get to understand that there's
another song coming. But to me, even after four or five listens, it's still
all just one song. There are three exceptions. The record starts with an
upbeat, 'Get Back'-rhythm based stomper pretentiously called 'Thank You
For Sending Me An Angel' that has Byrne at his most schizophrenic and the
band at its most rockin'. Then there's the BIG DRONE that lasts for eight
tracks, after which comes the Heads' biggest hit up to that point, their
cover of Al Green's 'Take Me To The River'. Frankly, I'm a bit puzzled
as to why everybody loves that one so much. It's a good, soulful, intelligent
number, but hardly essential for the Heads, and personally, I prefer when
soulful grooves are done in a soulful manner - for my money, Bryan Ferry's
version of it was done far better (unfortunately, I haven't heard
the original). And 'The Big Country' that finishes the record is a lengthy
melodyless bore: it might be the record's defining lyrical moment, with
a hard-hitting anti-American rant on the part of Mr Byrne, but musically
it starts nowhere and proceeds in the exact same direction.
That said, I still give the record an exceedingly high overall rating
of eleven, simply because I dig that sound so much. Many people hated it
at first and many people still hate it, but they're conservative. People,
have the guts to recognize a revolutionary record when you see one - particularly
considering that it was one of the last revolutionary rock records ever
made. Oh, and do I really need to mention the sub-names of the 'Big Drone'?
Are you interested in my particular opinion about its sub-parts? Fine.
Two words. 'The Good Thing' is bouncy and jerky and very gentle, not to
mention suggestive; 'Warning Sign' is bouncy and jerky and very atmospheric,
not to mention scary; 'The Girls Want To Be With The Girls' is bouncy and
jerky and very lesbian, not to mention Brit-poppy; 'Found A Job' is VERY
bouncy and VERY jerky and very dumb-sounding, not to mention weird; 'I'm
Not In Love' is bouncy and jerky and very rough, not to mention eminently
danceable; and 'Stay Hungry' is BOUNCY TO THE EXTREME and JERKY TO THE
EXTREME and very addictive, not to mention... Oh hell, it's the Talking
Heads we're discussing after all. Remember, if you want to save music,
you'll have to learn to play the guitar like David Byrne does it.
Year Of Release: 1979
Overall rating = 13
Paranoid, yet catchy and easily accessible. Congratulations, boys,
you managed to tame down your insane ring-ring-ring.
Best song: CITIES. Or LIFE DURING WARTIME. Or whatever you
want
I still can't decide if Fear Of Music qualifies as the best album
of 1979 or not - it's almost on par with the Police's offering of the same
year. I'd still give the Nobel prize to the Police if I could (and if Nobel
wasn't such a smartass and left over something for all the musicians out
there), because I'm just somewhat more reverend towards their style than
to David Byrne's "ethnic lunacy", but that's minor quibbling
in the literal sense of the expression. Seriously now, Fear Of Music,
even if it was only released a year after More Songs, is an improvement
over that album, good as it was itself, in almost every possible way. Preserving
the mind-boggling grooves of that record, together with its producer (Eno),
Mr Byrne adds in two key elements, each one of which boosts the record
an extra point.
Key element number one is a super-duper pop sensibility that got lost somewhere
on the highway while they were talking about buildings and food. Not only
is every song listenable and having a personality of its own, but most
of them are chock-full of smooth hooklines that become absolutely irresistable
on second listen ('cuz they're a bit annoying and repetitive on the first
one). Could I stick out a little metaphor? Thank you. I'd say that the
material of More Songs was like a new and ground-breaking type of
dough, cleverly prepared and wisely patented by chef extraordinaire; Fear
Of Music, though, puts that dough into the oven, bakes the whole pie
and doesn't forget to cut it into reasonable portions so that everybody
could get one's share and not bitch over the slicing process. I mean, the
songs are still somewhat similar in style, tempo, and key (although there's
a heavier reliance on minor chords here than before, which makes the album
really really gloomy in places), but since all the hooklines are different,
it doesn't seem anymore like Byrne and co. just wrote that record in order
to lay down their unique brand of rhythm playing. What good is unique rhythm
playing if all you do is uniquely playing rhythm, after all?
Key element number two is that the record really makes sense - and a lot
of it. This is clearly a concept album, and not only that - it's a real
concept album, which is very unusual, since most 'concept albums' are in
fact pseudo-concept albums, whose main purpose is to leave the listener
behind gaping at what the possible 'concept' could really be (think Sgt
Pepper, eh?). The concept that lies behind all these songs is somewhat
similar to the concept of Dark Side Of The Moon: fear and insecurity,
madness and desperation at the sight of everything that's actually mentioned
in these songs: their titles speak for themselves - 'Paper', 'Cities',
'Mind', 'Heaven', 'Animals', 'Air', 'Drugs', 'Electric Guitar'... Somebody
at the Prindle site suggested that the key to understanding the record
is its title: substitute 'music' from the title and put in most of these
individual song titles, and you get exactly that same message that Mr Byrne
wanted to communicate us. I really couldn't agree more about that. And
while the album loses a little bit to DSOTM in terms of epicness
and seriousness, it picks everything back up in terms of intriguing, ambivalent
lyrics, clever arrangements, and diversity.
Of course, the main proof of this album's greatness is that it's extremely
hard to select any highlights - try as I can, I can't find even one weak
number on here; perhaps only the closing five-minute drone of 'Drugs' overstays
its welcome, as the song has too few energy to compensate for the length.
(Why is it that the worst song on the record almost always has to be the
lengthiest? Is it because the lengthiest song on the record always has
to be the worst?). Even so, it's hardly bad, because the song's
main 'dripping' hookline is pretty solid.
Otherwise, it's just one excellent groove after another. As a short promising
intro, the Heads pioneer world beat in 'I Zimbra' with its moody ethnic
African rhythms - the song would later serve as a blueprint for the entire
Discipline album by King Crimson. (That was hyperbole, but unless
you can't tell hyperbole from hyperbollocks, just forget that last sentence).
Then Byrne promises to find something to change your mind, discovering
a couple unforgettable guitar riffs on the way; bounces his way through
the thunderstormy 'Paper', with one of the most complex and fascinating
rhythm tracks on the album; and proceeds to my current favourite, the electric
piano-dominated 'Cities', which somehow ties in the paranoid guitar rhythms
with music hall keyboards and disco bass, not to mention the lyrics, as
David keeps busy trying to find himself a city to live in. Something makes
me think he's left dissatisfied with all of the possible choices...
...which makes him jump to the angry, uncompromising single 'Life During
Wartime', the ultimate synth-popper if there ever was one, and to the bombastic,
overwhelming 'Memories Can't Wait' that thrusts us into the even weirder
section of the album, as echoes, tons of special effects and drugged-out,
lunatic fantasies make their real appearance. That said, did I mention
that the lunatic fantasies are all solidly anchored in tasty riffs and
carefully structured out, never getting out of control? Turn in that information,
please. 'Air' is pretty and atmospheric; 'Heaven', with its key phrase
('heaven is a place where nothing ever happens'), and sad, melancholic
mood, lets us know that you can't escape shit even in the saintest of locations;
'Animals' is the funniest anti-animal rave I've ever heard occur on this
planet (I can almost picture Byrne impersonating a drunk professor opening
up his heart to somebody in a fit of uncontrolled anger!); and 'Electric
Guitar' is just... strange. Is it a condemnation of rock music? Or a condemnation
of people opposing music? Or just... words? In any case, these are words
spoken out with a vengeance, and propped up against an energetic rhythm
pattern (Chris Frantz is the main star on this song - his drumming almost
makes it worthwhile on its own) and a groovy five-note riff forming a perfect
counterpoint for Byrne's raving.
If anything ever lets the album down, it's a feeling that the band still
can't (and would actually never be able to) overstep its own groove and
broaden the perspective - the record holds no real surprises, except for
an amazing level of consistency and quality. It also hurts that Fear
Of Music is so seriously soulless - 'Heaven' might be the sole tiny
exception - and Byrne never really lets you enter his own personal world
(something that really ties him in together with another David, if you
know who I mean). But melody-wise and approach-wise, any complaints would
be futile; this is one of New Wave's highest points, and a record that
should really go down as an absolute classic. Why some reviewers put it
down as 'transitional' and 'not fully representative' is way beyond me;
for my money, this is the most perfect and adequate artistic statement
that the band ever produced. Ever.
Year Of Release: 1980
Overall rating = 13
Completely spaced out and dizzy, this is the Heads' debacling on
a HUGE scale. Be cautious! Asteroids are falling!
Best song: THE GREAT CURVE
[Gotta start with a pretentious and attention-drawing introduction.]
Man, this is a tough, tough, tough call. Good thing I'm not reserved to
giving out just one highest rating to any particular band, or I
would have to spend my days in a mental asylum trying to figure out whether
Fear Of Music beats out Remain In Light or it is vice versa.
See, on one hand, Fear Of Music appeals somewhat more to me personally,
with catchier melodies, a larger number of songs, and cute little philosophic
twists of the lyrics/performances that render Mr Byrne more, well, humane.
On the other hand, Remain In Light is, without a doubt, a far
more accomplished record, a grand canvas that steps over the narrow New
Wave borders of the Heads' two previous offerings, and thus is more innovative
and everything. What should I do? Give 'em an equal rating, of course!
[Okay, I'm gonna play serious rock critic now and offer a Serious Rock
Critic Metaphor]. If Fear Of Music was just the equivalent of
preliminary training within the spacecraft, then Remain In Light
is more like a true venture into outer space. [Next, the expected Metaphor
Expansion and Explanation]. The reason of my saying this is simple
- the production. Either the band has completely signed control over to
Eno or they just felt more and more at ease with Eno every day, but I don't
even feel the studio boundaries while listening to this stuff. The 'live'
feeling of that last record, which was still present, is completely gone
- at times, this sounds more like a sealed package aliens have sent on
Earth, containing recordings of an alien cruise around Alpha Centauri.
Synth bleeps and beeps, all kinds of psycho effects, roaring and screeching
guitars that appear out of nowhere only to disappear in that same direction,
'heavenly' or 'ugly' vocal harmonies, all of them completely unpredictable,
this will certainly bug you and debug you for several times before you
get used to it.
But oh man, is that stuff actually cool. [The metaphor being expanded,
we now proceed to depicting the songs - otherwise, the review will be too
short and nobody will get bored. That won't work, eh?]. The first side
is by far the best, as it concentrates on faster rhythms, rhythms that
are neither disco nor world beat, rather just totally crazed out percussion-heavy
dance rhythms that take a little bit of everything. I suppose that lyrics
do matter on here, occasionally, offering more of Byrne's interesting
views on society, but I tell you, the sounds on here don't really make
me wanna sit back and pull out the lyrics sheet, as I did want to
do while enjoying Fear Of Music. Instead, I just revel in the pure
hypnotic grooves of that stuff. For instance, the guitars and synthesizers
on 'Born Under Pressure (The Heat Goes On)' play all kinds of jagged riffs,
solos, half- and quarter-riffs and half- and one-eighth-solos and almost
seem to be playing hide and seek with each other. You know, like little
green Meeps jumping around and making your head spin. It's fun to just
cling on to one of those guitar tracks and pretend you're clinging on to
a comet which is whirling you around a planet or something. But then you
get shaken off, only to follow 'Crosseyed And Painless' into the depths
of 'dynamic lethargy' - how can a track thus obviously rocking and energetic
be so dang lethargic? I suppose it's those vocal harmonies that lull you,
but aren't all those whizzing guitar noises supposed to wake you
up? Oh well, just more spacey pandering...
...and if you think you're out of it, you're wrong! 'The Great Curve' is
the centerpiece of the album - as fast as anything else, and based on the
record's best gimmick, a brilliant call-and-answer session between sparkling
lead guitar trills and playful bass runs. And if that, and the brilliant
vocal polyphony, ain't enough, then perhaps guitar wiz Adrian Belew's manic
guitar parts will be enough to convince you of the song's paranoid
greatness. I get in the groove so much that for me, this even overshadows
the arguably best known track off the album, Byrne's glorious anthem 'Once
In A Lifetime'. Great pop harmonies on that one, great groove, but not
all that outstanding to be the perfect epitome of the Heads' idiosyncratic
magnificence - heck, it could have as well been written by Eno himself,
while 'The Great Curve' could only have been penned by the Heads.
But why bitch about them? [Reaching a consensus here.]
The second side is real hard to sit through, now. It's slower and even
more atmospheric - we're reaching our destination, folks, so fasten your
belts and take one last short nap. 'Houses In Motion' is the one number
on here that's closest to 'filler' definition, but it's perfectly compensated
for by the robotic pulsation of 'Seen And Not Seen' and the mantraic chanting
of 'Listening Wind', both great songs that I'll never love to the point
of gluing my ears to the speakers whenever they come on, but at least I'll
never be willing to push the 'fast forward' button on either of them, and
that's more than I can say about Grand Funk Railroad, for instance.
[Grand exit now.] And, of course, Eno wouldn't be Eno if he hadn't
made the band end the album on a super-slow, creepy, pseudo-goth note with
'The Overload', which sounds more or less 'industrial', I guess, but is
far more accessible and impressive than most industrial I've heard so far.
And hey, if you're one o' dem D&D fans, just replace the 'a' in the
middle of the title with an 'r' and the song will immediately turn into
a mystical medieval fantasy. Who knows - perhaps it was meant to
be that way? That old hoot Eno.
[A note of pessimism wouldn't hurt.] The biggest problem, of course,
is that nothing particularly good was influenced by this record (and don't
try to convince me otherwise), but then again, that classic Police sound
was also lost to the waves, wasn't it? Admit it - New Wave, at best, didn't
influence anything, and at worst, influenced lots of crap, like
all the synth-pop scene and the techno beats. Okay, I know that I'm not
exactly right here, but I know that I'm not exactly wrong, either.
Heh heh. Actually, I'm only doing this to emphasize the importance and
glory of Remain In Light. Admit it, it would be painful to speak
of it as a 'transitional link' or some shit like that - let's speak of
it as a transcendent value in itself! Go buy it now!
Year Of Release: 1980
Overall rating = 11
Curious mix of styles and a great groovy spacey sound... but the
band hasn't really arrived yet.
Best song: TWILIGHT
U2's debut album is one of those records that you listen to in one sitting,
completely baffled - and drawn in - by the sound, then get the urge to
put on for a second time, and then the main reaction is: "Uh? Excuse
me, did you actually say something?" Oh no, it's not bad.
Far from it. On the contrary, it cooks! It should be owned by everybody!
But don't think that this will be an 'easy' or a 'difficult' listen. It
will be a 'puzzling' listen.
So what's the deal? Four young Irish lads get together, get a recording
contract, put out some uneven singles and then employ all their talents
to make a sweeping, bombastic statement on their very first LP. The actual
music on here practically determines the term 'derivative': almost
every song suggests an influence or two, and if I wanted to count all of
them, I'd run out of fingers pretty quickly. As Wilson & Alroy pointed
out, The Edge's guitar-playing style was heavily influenced by Dave Gilmour's
playing on songs like 'Run Like Hell', although that is certainly not the
only 'root' on here. The melodies, however, are mostly reminiscent of latter
day David Bowie; it's obvious that the band was really soaking in the guy's
Berlin trilogy. And, of course, let us not forget punk (everything from
the Sex Pistols to Patti Smith). And, of course, let us not forget New
Wave (everything from the Police to the Talking Heads)! And that's all
on here. See, U2 didn't invent anything new - they were powerful combinators,
and in a certain way this album just sums up the entire second half of
the Seventies. Which makes U2 the perfect candidate for 'The Guys That
Closed The Silver Age of Rock'.
That said, there's nothing particularly wrong with 'powerful combinations',
and I dig this record just like anybody else - in fact, there ain't a single
true duffer among the eleven tracks presented here. The guys really make
their sound huge, unlike most young bands that came before them;
displaying a passionate affection for echoes, multi-tracked guitars, a
crashing drum sound and loud, energetic harmonies, they really run the
risk of being dismissed for callous pretentiousness. Ah, but fortunately,
this pretentiousness is fully justified by their control of melody and
a deep understanding of the 'hook' conception.
The most serious accusation, in fact, is not the band's derivativeness
(which can be overlooked if you try hard), but the fact that "it all
sounds the same, daddy". Not only does it all sound the same, much
too often, there aren't even any breaks between songs. Now what's up with
that? Is this supposed to be a concept album? Oh yeah, well, some
tracks do deal with the problems of childhood ('Into The Heart') and motherhood
('I Will Follow'), but for the most part, Bono's lyrics are rather vague
and intentionally disfocused - and you'll hardly be able to concentrate
on them anyway. And what with everything sounding the same, it's really
hard to make out the hooks at times. Make sure you give the record at least
four or five listens before making the final judgement!
What was that best song over there? 'Twilight'? Well, you see, I just wrote
that up and I'm already not too sure. 'Twilight' is certainly a great atmospheric
track, opening with one of those shakey Edge riffs and one of those grim
Adam Clayton basslines that can identify any song as 'U2' in a matter of
seconds, and it certainly possesses a gorgeous chorus, plenty of rip-roaring
energy and everything else you need, but is it right to give the title
of best song to something that could also be characterized as 'Iggy Pop
sings David Bowie, with a little help from the outside Irish population?'
Perhaps not. Then again, perhaps yes.
Then again, it's not really that better, guitar solos and all, than 'I
Will Follow', which is so goshdarn bouncy and memorable and ringing' and
twingin' and optimistic that it just gotta rank as one of the Eighties'
most perfect candidates for a single. And what about 'An Cat Dubh'? Darker
and more mysterious, yes, with a slightly slower dynamic groove, groovy
vocal harmonies, catchy chorus, and a bizarre 12 a.m. atmosphere. Or maybe
'Out Of Control', the band's most aggressive, openly punkish signature?
Or something else?
If you thought that paragraph above was just a special way to lull you
into my description of all the tracks on here, you were wrong - I couldn't
do that without too much self-repetition. They're all the same song stylistically,
and I couldn't describe the true differences in hooks. I just mentioned
the first half of the album because, well, I had to mention something.
The second half sounds the same, but in a different way. Got it? Or I could
describe it in influence terms, like "'A Day Without Me' sounds like
the Police with the reggae bit replaced by a David Bowie/Brian Eno-style
monotonous rhythmic shuffle". Or maybe not.
Whatever. I like everything on here, and any one selected song -
pick any one you like - could really drive me to ecstasy. (Personally,
I just happened to select 'Twilight'. Make your bets, ladies and
gentlemen!). Great soaring atmosphere! Youthful optimism! Letters from
your subconscious! Wonderful mastery of studio trickery! Great hooks! But
you see, a little more diversity couldn't hurt. Yeah, yeah, I know, U2
have got some nasty problems in that direction, but alas, I cannot really
forgive that flaw. Plus, I still don't really get what was the exact purpose
of this record, apart from going into the studio and proving that they
were masters, of course. No, it's not a crime, but it's kinda frustrating.