— Stephen "Tin Tin" Duffy
Stephen Duffy offers up a brief mea culpa to begin his review. Admitting that he doesn't have a record player (an emerging pop star in the mid-eighties without any sort of hi-fi system at home? A bit hard to believe but okay), the singer explains that he went into a recording studio, played the new singles on high volume and subsequently "got very depressed" but neglects to explain why. In the end what he managed to eek out are a "few notes in the style of a guest record reviewer for Smash Hits circa 1982". So, just who might our Steve be referring to? Certainly not Martin Fry's carefully thought out critiques from the 29 April edition — which, fact fiends, was the only guest review from the entire year (something of a stark contrast to '85 and its half-dozen-or-so from just the first half of the year alone). Now he did say "circa" so I guess I ought to do my due diligence and check on other one-off pop star appearances from the years bookending it and, oh, look what we have! Gary Kemp! He must be the one old "Tin Tin" is alluding to. Except the Spandau guitarist did a more-than commendable job. Maybe he's thinking of George Michael and Andrew Ridegly of Wham! who admittedly didn't seem to put a great deal of consideration into their analysis but much of their attempt is conversational with a music expert throwing out theories and his ne'er-do-well mate happily going along with him — not quite what Duffy seems to be thinking of.
But what does it matter anyway? Duffy's just being modest. His reviews are fine and certainly good enough by pop star standards. But one throwback to earlier days is he failed to pick a winner. Going by recent precedent, the record below should be our Single of the Fortnight (it is the one he saves the most praise for and it's the first one listed) but his admission that "Slave to Love" is the "only single in the pile I'll definitely play again" seals it for me (although the question must be asked: just what device will you be playing said record on, eh Duff?).
Bryan Ferry has managed to get away with an awful lot over the years. No, this isn't about his admiration for Nazi imagery nor his staunch defence of the fox hunt (two subjects that plenty of people have already taken him to task on) but how he has deftly managed to avoid the creative pitfalls of many of his contemporaries. Sacking Brian Eno at the height of Roxy Music's powers should have set the group back but it didn't. Going increasingly middle-of-the-road should have hindered their popularity but if anything they got bigger than ever. Putting his band on ice in the mid-seventies should have been impossible to recover from but they came back to enjoy some of their biggest hits. Increased attention to his up-and-down solo career minus key Roxy contributors Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay should have had left him sputtering but the success kept coming. His post-Country Life work within and without his band is patchy but none of it's an embarrassment.
By the mid-eighties Bryan Ferry seems to have boxed himself into a corner and what choice did he have but to "take up where [he] left off" as Duffy puts it. This is by no means a bad thing: what he did he did well and there was still enough of a market for this type of material to take recent solo album Boys and Girls to the top of the charts and put "Slave to Love" into the top ten. It probably also didn't hurt that British music had come to be defined by soul music-loving crooners playing in groups that relied as much on synths as they did "real" instruments. With the likes of Bowie and Macca and Elton all looking foolish with increasingly duff records, who could blame Ferry for wanting to stay the course?
Yet, works like "Slave to Love" expose a talented figure who was slacking and starting to parody himself. Those same slick vocal gestures he began perfecting around the time of Manifesto are present and correct, as are those vaguely wistful Manzanera-aping guitar licks which are so prevalent on Avalon. The song goes exactly as you would imagine. But for the artist credit, you'd swear this was the latest from what was left of Roxy Music. (In effect, Ferry was what was left of his old group and it's only right — if also pretty bloody cheeky — that he began releasing a series of joint Roxy-Ferry compilations beginning with the hugely popular Street Life: 20 Great Hits in 1986) But the very fact that it fits in so seamlessly with latter day Roxy material is not a point in its favour. It might have done Ferry some good to have had a lousy howler of an album at around this time. It might have allowed him to shake things up a bit, get some real collaborators in who weren't just intent to go along with his every whim and to grow creatively. Better to stumble and learn from the experience than to grow stale.
Not something I'll definitely play again; more the kind of thing I never need to hear again for the rest of my life. Because what would be the point? I'll just stick with early Roxy Music, thank you very much.
But what does it matter anyway? Duffy's just being modest. His reviews are fine and certainly good enough by pop star standards. But one throwback to earlier days is he failed to pick a winner. Going by recent precedent, the record below should be our Single of the Fortnight (it is the one he saves the most praise for and it's the first one listed) but his admission that "Slave to Love" is the "only single in the pile I'll definitely play again" seals it for me (although the question must be asked: just what device will you be playing said record on, eh Duff?).
Bryan Ferry has managed to get away with an awful lot over the years. No, this isn't about his admiration for Nazi imagery nor his staunch defence of the fox hunt (two subjects that plenty of people have already taken him to task on) but how he has deftly managed to avoid the creative pitfalls of many of his contemporaries. Sacking Brian Eno at the height of Roxy Music's powers should have set the group back but it didn't. Going increasingly middle-of-the-road should have hindered their popularity but if anything they got bigger than ever. Putting his band on ice in the mid-seventies should have been impossible to recover from but they came back to enjoy some of their biggest hits. Increased attention to his up-and-down solo career minus key Roxy contributors Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay should have had left him sputtering but the success kept coming. His post-Country Life work within and without his band is patchy but none of it's an embarrassment.
By the mid-eighties Bryan Ferry seems to have boxed himself into a corner and what choice did he have but to "take up where [he] left off" as Duffy puts it. This is by no means a bad thing: what he did he did well and there was still enough of a market for this type of material to take recent solo album Boys and Girls to the top of the charts and put "Slave to Love" into the top ten. It probably also didn't hurt that British music had come to be defined by soul music-loving crooners playing in groups that relied as much on synths as they did "real" instruments. With the likes of Bowie and Macca and Elton all looking foolish with increasingly duff records, who could blame Ferry for wanting to stay the course?
Yet, works like "Slave to Love" expose a talented figure who was slacking and starting to parody himself. Those same slick vocal gestures he began perfecting around the time of Manifesto are present and correct, as are those vaguely wistful Manzanera-aping guitar licks which are so prevalent on Avalon. The song goes exactly as you would imagine. But for the artist credit, you'd swear this was the latest from what was left of Roxy Music. (In effect, Ferry was what was left of his old group and it's only right — if also pretty bloody cheeky — that he began releasing a series of joint Roxy-Ferry compilations beginning with the hugely popular Street Life: 20 Great Hits in 1986) But the very fact that it fits in so seamlessly with latter day Roxy material is not a point in its favour. It might have done Ferry some good to have had a lousy howler of an album at around this time. It might have allowed him to shake things up a bit, get some real collaborators in who weren't just intent to go along with his every whim and to grow creatively. Better to stumble and learn from the experience than to grow stale.
Not something I'll definitely play again; more the kind of thing I never need to hear again for the rest of my life. Because what would be the point? I'll just stick with early Roxy Music, thank you very much.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
The Power Station: "Get It On (Bang a Gong)"
Duffy's depression may well have been down to having to sit down and listen to some of his old bandmates. Having once been the vocalist of a pre-worldwide fame Duran Duran, it must have been hard to swallow hearing John Taylor's bass rip its way through a brave but misguided cover of the T-Rex classic "Get It On" by supergroup The Power Station. (Elsewhere, he dryly observes that the Duranie James Bond theme "A View to a Kill" is "interesting"; hopefully ver Hits held back the latest release from Arcadia because that would've just been cruel) I can only speculate. Nevertheless, he's impressed with what Robert Palmer and a pair of Taylors and Chic's Tony "outrageous drumming" Thompson have done with it and not just because it will "offend many Marc Bolan fans". I'm not quite so willing to rave over it even if it's nowhere near as bad as I'd been expecting. Palmer's perv-hunger vocal seems a little too on the nose, lacking the breathy subtlety of the original, and it could very well be that everyone present is far too in awe of the song to have some fun or do something different. They must have known they weren't going to come close to equalling the source so why bother even trying?
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