1 April 1982
"The old Cilla Black number is beautifully delivered by fellow '60s chanteuse Ms Shaw, who's been dragged out of retirement and given a pair of shoes specially for the occasion."
— Dave Rimmer
In a recent episode of Slate's Hit Parade podcast, host Chris Molanphy discussed the 'featuring' credit in pop music, something which has grown increasingly common in recent years. While fascinating, I was expecting him to go into more detail about other forms of artist credits. And/& denotes a certain equality and even provides hope that their collaboration may be more than a one off. 'With' has an imbalance to it, with the headline act having a distinct prominence over the other. 'Featuring', by contrast, gives the guest the upper hand, putting the spotlight on a vocalist — or, in the case of the brilliant "Big Fun" by Inner City featuring Kevin Saunderson, a producer/mixer type — who wouldn't normally be getting such credit.
Those are the most common credits but there are others. One of my favourite singles of the early nineties was "In Yer Face" by 808 State who also enjoyed further Top 10 success with "The Only Rhyme That Bites", credited to M.C. Tunes vs. 808 State. While there were elements to enjoy there — Tunes' shifting between lightning-fast raps and audible pauses to gasp for breath, State's lush, spy-thriller backdrop — I hated the contrived nature of the credit. The collaborating parties weren't in competition against each other and even if there was a considerable amount of tension to merit such a combative description it doesn't mean a thing to me. (Happily, 'vs.' never took off to any great extent, its most prominent placing in "It's Like That" in which Run D.M.C. took on Jason Nivens) Though not strictly speaking a credit per se, albums with titles such as Louis Armstrong Meets Oscar Peterson and Coleman Hawkins Encounters Ben Webster gave off a mythologising vibe that jazz musicians would show up unannounced at a studio and start playing with whoever happened to be there at the time. And, finally, we come to the billing for the present offering, "Anyone Who Had a Heart" from B.E.F. presents Sandie Shaw. Here sophistication is the name of the game. Good taste brigadiers Martyn Ware and Ian Craig Marsh — formerly of a pre-fame Human League and but by '82 they were heading the British Electric Foundation production team and in charge of Heaven 17 — have used their good graces to coax Ms Shaw back into the spotlight and here she is with a very special performance. The fact that they gave their album the title of Music of Quality and Distinction says all you need to know.
"Anyone Who Had a Heart" was originally a hit in the mid sixties for Dionne Warwick in North America and Cilla Black in the UK and Europe, an Anglo-American divide which was common at the time for Burt Bachrach and Hal David compositions. Shaw would have a Bachrach-David hit of her own with "Always Something There to Remind Me" (also recorded by Warwick) and here she makes up for never having had the chance to take her own crack at AWHAH. The fact that Warwick and Black were both in their early twenties at the time gives their readings a naivety and vulnerability; being by this point in her mid-thirties, Shaw's is tougher and more defiant, even if she toes ever so closely towards power ballad territory. Dave Rimmer expresses surprise that the Ware-Marsh "electrickery" is so sparse (though I can't hear it at all); perhaps they felt it best to stick with the basics of sixties pop. It shimmers, as all classic Bachrach and David deserves to.
As a potential hit this went absolutely nowhere and the Sandie Shaw revival was still a couple years away. But as cross-generational collaborations go, B.E.F. proved to be ahead of the game. Eighties synth deconstructionists Art of Noise had yet to register and it's easy to imagine Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs using this template as the basis for Saint Etienne a decade later — not to mention all the incessant irony-laced modern pop which produced William Shatner, Shirley Bassey and Tom Jones comebacks in cahoots with the glitterati of studio techno alchemy. A lot to answer for then.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Roxy Music: "More Than This"
Bryan Ferry could very well have been singing about his band and signaling to his by-now hefty audience that they were at the road. (Creatively speaking they'd long since passed their prime once they had 1974's Country House in the can but many groups have finished on a far less distinguished note than the Roxies did in '82) Rimmer calls it a weepy and he's not wrong. Judged on its own terms, "More Than This" is gorgeous, floating and dreamy — its only real let down being my own bitterness that it's far more popular than something like "Mother of Pearl". I really ought to get over it.
"The old Cilla Black number is beautifully delivered by fellow '60s chanteuse Ms Shaw, who's been dragged out of retirement and given a pair of shoes specially for the occasion."
— Dave Rimmer
Those are the most common credits but there are others. One of my favourite singles of the early nineties was "In Yer Face" by 808 State who also enjoyed further Top 10 success with "The Only Rhyme That Bites", credited to M.C. Tunes vs. 808 State. While there were elements to enjoy there — Tunes' shifting between lightning-fast raps and audible pauses to gasp for breath, State's lush, spy-thriller backdrop — I hated the contrived nature of the credit. The collaborating parties weren't in competition against each other and even if there was a considerable amount of tension to merit such a combative description it doesn't mean a thing to me. (Happily, 'vs.' never took off to any great extent, its most prominent placing in "It's Like That" in which Run D.M.C. took on Jason Nivens) Though not strictly speaking a credit per se, albums with titles such as Louis Armstrong Meets Oscar Peterson and Coleman Hawkins Encounters Ben Webster gave off a mythologising vibe that jazz musicians would show up unannounced at a studio and start playing with whoever happened to be there at the time. And, finally, we come to the billing for the present offering, "Anyone Who Had a Heart" from B.E.F. presents Sandie Shaw. Here sophistication is the name of the game. Good taste brigadiers Martyn Ware and Ian Craig Marsh — formerly of a pre-fame Human League and but by '82 they were heading the British Electric Foundation production team and in charge of Heaven 17 — have used their good graces to coax Ms Shaw back into the spotlight and here she is with a very special performance. The fact that they gave their album the title of Music of Quality and Distinction says all you need to know.
"Anyone Who Had a Heart" was originally a hit in the mid sixties for Dionne Warwick in North America and Cilla Black in the UK and Europe, an Anglo-American divide which was common at the time for Burt Bachrach and Hal David compositions. Shaw would have a Bachrach-David hit of her own with "Always Something There to Remind Me" (also recorded by Warwick) and here she makes up for never having had the chance to take her own crack at AWHAH. The fact that Warwick and Black were both in their early twenties at the time gives their readings a naivety and vulnerability; being by this point in her mid-thirties, Shaw's is tougher and more defiant, even if she toes ever so closely towards power ballad territory. Dave Rimmer expresses surprise that the Ware-Marsh "electrickery" is so sparse (though I can't hear it at all); perhaps they felt it best to stick with the basics of sixties pop. It shimmers, as all classic Bachrach and David deserves to.
As a potential hit this went absolutely nowhere and the Sandie Shaw revival was still a couple years away. But as cross-generational collaborations go, B.E.F. proved to be ahead of the game. Eighties synth deconstructionists Art of Noise had yet to register and it's easy to imagine Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs using this template as the basis for Saint Etienne a decade later — not to mention all the incessant irony-laced modern pop which produced William Shatner, Shirley Bassey and Tom Jones comebacks in cahoots with the glitterati of studio techno alchemy. A lot to answer for then.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Roxy Music: "More Than This"
Bryan Ferry could very well have been singing about his band and signaling to his by-now hefty audience that they were at the road. (Creatively speaking they'd long since passed their prime once they had 1974's Country House in the can but many groups have finished on a far less distinguished note than the Roxies did in '82) Rimmer calls it a weepy and he's not wrong. Judged on its own terms, "More Than This" is gorgeous, floating and dreamy — its only real let down being my own bitterness that it's far more popular than something like "Mother of Pearl". I really ought to get over it.
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