— Ian Birch
It could be as a result of a post-Christmas lull but the singles review section is noticeably trimmer than in previous issues of the Hits. Whereas hapless, overworked critics like David Hepworth may have had as many as two dozen forty-fives to deal with — and that's not even considering discs that may have been passed over from the round-up due to either issues of space or sheer indifference — the paltry eleven records featured here were of such little burden to Ian Birch that they share space on the same page with the albums. Picking a favourite shouldn't have been much of a challenge.
Now, I'd say that he picked the wrong record as SOTF but opting for Haircut One Hundred wasn't a huge howler. The Cuts seem to have been a band that a lot of people quickly became high on. They'd only had one hit prior to this — "Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)" which was a cop pick a few entries ago — but it was enough to get them a very respectable second runner-up for Most Promising New Act for 1982 in the Smash Hits Reader's Poll. Recency bias, perhaps, but that shouldn't gainsay just how impressive they must have seemed. Quite why they impressed so many is another matter.
Putting oneself back in the early eighties, it must have been refreshing to hear an up and coming act that didn't seem absolutely drenched in punk. Up until now, virtually every British group to have arisen in the previous half-decade had the whiff of punk (or its offshoots) about them in one way or another. In many cases it had little to do with sound: the aggressive ska of The Specials might have emerged independent of Johnny Rotten and Joe Strummer and Rat Scabies but their presentation and live energy was more Kingston-upon-Thames than Kingston Town. Dexys were always going to be soul revivalists but punk only added another layer of grime.
But the Haircuts seemed to exist independent of all that. Leader Nick Heyward's obvious first love was The Beatles — particularly Paul McCartney, especially in light of how much this sounds like "Listen to What the Man Said". While such a grounding resulted in gorgeous melodies and some outstanding musical inventiveness, it also meant he could fall for a lack of meaning and this is where "Love Plus One" falters. We're entering a period of some lyrical mumbo jumbo that was a far cry from either the thoughtful early seventies singer-songwriters or the direct and to the point punks. Much as Birch likes this — and, to be sure, he's not wrong — he concludes his review by expressing puzzlement at the lyrics. The lines "Where do we go from here / Is it down to the lake I fear" make him wonder if they've been watching too many late night horror movies on TV (This, I suppose, being the time when serial killer flicks set in teen summer camps were the big thing). But I think even that's giving Heyward far too much credit for something I don't imagine he put all that much thought into. And then there's the issue of the missing comma: perhaps the line is actually "Is it down to the lake, I fear"; is he scared of this body of water or worried that that's the only place left to go? Either way, what the hell does any of it mean?
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
XTC: "Senses Working Overtime"
The one Birch should have gone with. (With an honourable mention to Joan Armatrading's typically beautifully sung "No Love" which I was tempted to write about in this space until I realised that I had absolutely nothing to say about it other than it being pretty good) Andy Partridge was all about putting meaning in his songwriting, even if it didn't happen to mean much to many punters. Wondering if they were ever going to get the due he — and the press in general — believed they were due, Birch was likely pleasantly surprised that "Senses Working Overtime" got them into the Top Ten. Putting everything they have into it, Partridge and co. perform as if this is their last chance to reach the masses. Sounding as if he's going over the edge becomes much more poignant when you later discover that that's exactly what would soon happen. (Aside from the limpness of her voice and the absurd production, a big part of why Mandy Moore's cover doesn't work is that she had no desire to enact a nervous breakdown on disc, for good or bad) The whole band chip in with some fantastic playing, particularly from drummer Terry Chambers, a striking reminder of how missed he's soon become. They payed a heavy price for this burst of success and they'd never be the same.
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