— David Hepworth
Much like two weeks ago when I wrote about The The, this week's entry is drenched in memories that would come much later. While I knew that Matt Johnson's outfit had a past of some sort, I had no idea Lisa Stansfield was releasing music this early on — she was only sixteen back in 1982 — and I had probably assumed that she emerged fully formed with her breakthrough hit "People Hold On" in '89. The single was made in cahoots with Coldcut, who had previously had a hit with Yazz, another newcomer, with "Doctorin' the House" a year earlier. These house music boffins were ace at digging up unknowns and making them into stars. Well, sort of.
Turns out, Stansfield had been toiling away at that whole stardom thing for the entire length of the eighties. Emerging victorious on the UK talent show Search for a Star, she got signed up by a major record label and made further TV appearances. She was well-known enough to have merited an ITV documentary but her notoriety didn't translate into chart success. She would eventually form the group Blue Zone with a pair of mates which would eventually morph into her second and much more successful crack at a solo career. (It's unthinkable in this day and age to have an X Factor winner take the better part of ten years to establish themselves. On the other hand, given short chart career lifespans of such contestants, she may have been better off in the long term that it took her so long to have a hit)
So, "The Only Way" is a part of Lisa Stansfield's back story. On the sleeve, she looks very young, her hair nicely permed and sporting (in David Hepworth's words) a "rather fetching string vest"; a far cry, then, from the mature, short cropped (with a curl prominently featured on her forehead) and tailored (though no less fetching) power suits look she would have at the end of the decade. (Being just sixteen, it seems appropriate that her image has more than a little of the yearbook to it) Her voice, too, is different. Though still powerful — Hepworth credits producer David Pickerill with "boosting her little girl voice until it's just this side of glass-shattering" but that's as much a tribute to Stansfield's performance — her singing lacks that distinctive elasticity that would eventually convince a lot of people that she was a major talent. Still, there's enough here to see that she had loads of potential.
What brings things down a bit is the song itself. Living and dying by its catchy chorus and hooks a plenty, the lyrics are awfully hollow, depicting Lisa getting up early and being in a rush and going off to do whatever it is she has lined up for the day before heading back home to the dinginess of home that evening. The day itself isn't even worth mentioning. Now, perhaps this is a commentary on how the pursuit of pop music glory renders everything into a blur with scarcely any time for living one's life. The only way to get ahead is to be constantly on the move (or something). All well and good but how about some resolution to the story or more detail beyond generalities like "touch of the Monday morning blues" or some sort of acknowledgement as to why I'm supposed to care. Throw me a bone, people.
Perhaps a similar attitude sunk its chart fortunes in spite of Hepworth considering it a "contender". No Top 5 position, no lost credibility points, no apologetic chiming in its defense. So, let me be the first to belatedly say (above quibbles aside), "actually, I quite like this": actually, I quite like this.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Marvin Gaye: "Sexual Healing"
While other sixties holdovers were beginning to be critically dumped on (see Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, The Rolling Stones) around this time, Marvellous Marvin was enjoying a revival of sorts. "Sexual Healing" has always struck me as undeserving of its classic status even if it's probably the best he was capable of at this late stage of his life. Having alienated many more people than just his long-suffering ex-wife with his controversial masterpiece Here, My Dear four years earlier, it's easy to see why so many people were happy to have the louche and gentle Marvin of old back. Unfortunately, this is a prime example of Ian MacDonald's assertion that Gay "longed to be a messenger but hadn't much to say". (I was going to say that it's lyrically trite but how often do you come across songs that rhyme 'oven' with 'lovin'?) It's worth noting that something in his dark heart is there longing to be expressed: could sexual healing be the only thing to give him respite given the creative, financial and personal troubles that plagued him? Too bad the porn-without-the-explicit-bits video that accompanies it kind of undercuts the trace amounts of expressiveness old Marv was able to inject.
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