"This achingly great ballad tells a sad tale of lost love — grandiose synthesizers pound away while a woman sings lushly about the moon not being blue after all."
— William Shaw
One of the things I've been trying to do with this blog is to understand why different critics picked certain singles. Not to necessarily agree with their picks, just to get a grasp of what they must have seen in them. I feel that I've done so fairly well though with the nagging feeling that I've been apologising for some pretty duff records along the way.
There's little to apologise for this time, however. Last week, I dealt with joint Singles of the Fortnight as chosen by Tom Hibbert and this is the second issue on the bounce to have a pair of new releases sharing the crown. Just as Hibs handed out co-honours to one record he was very comfortable with (The Ramones: "ah, they don't make records like this anymore...") and a more left field pick as an act of contrition (Prefab Sprout: "having previously dismissed [them]...I now find myself having to eat my words"), top music journalist turned brilliant mystery novelist William Shaw is in a not dissimilar position, even if the pair of singles aren't as far apart stylistically (though they aren't all that similar either).
The safe pick for Shaw is The Cure. Admitting that they don't quite hit the mark every time ("every once in a while they turn out a completely and irresistably loveable tune..."), he nevertheless knows just what Robert Smith and whoever else happens to be part of his band are capable of. Having already toned down the gothic gloom of Seventeen Seconds and Pornography, a lightness had been added to their sound as well as an array of instruments heretofore unheard on a Cure record. "The Lovecats" and "The Caterpillar" and album The Top were the results of these experiments but it wasn't to last. By '85, percussionist Andy Anderson was out and Simon Gallup had returned to the fold and, as if acknowledging that they had to look back in order to go forward, a darker tone came back. Mixing the chiming whimsical nature of their work from the previous year with a more morose sound of old was the result.
The downside is that it's harder to appreciate now than back when it came out because it seems too much like a prototypical Cure single. It soars like "Just Like Heaven" and has the same sort of New Order-esque bass like "Pictures of You" and trips about like "High", records that all came after it. "The Lovecats" had been a one off but "In Between Days" sounds like a blueprint. Significantly, it became their first record to dent the American Hot 100 — albeit just barely — and feels like their journey to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame begins here. (None of this is intended to knock the record, only to show that when we think about music being 'dated' perhaps it means that we as listeners are the ones who haven't aged well and that we aren't able to listen to a song in a vacuum)
Shaw also makes a case for "The Moon Is Blue" by Colourbox. Not clouded by anything that would come later (a fairly easy task for a group that would promptly fold up shop), it is possible to listen in relative isolation. Their earlier stuff ("very obscure and pretty damn arty singles") is admirable indie pop of the time, a Cocteau Twins with easier to decipher lyrics, but nothing terribly brilliant either. Going the more pop route here may have alienated some of their fanbase (even though it still did well on the indie charts) but the group deserved compensation in the form of a massive hit single that never happened.
With traces of doo-wop and the classic girl groups, this is hardly a record without precedent. But the way it so effortlessly combines them with a beautiful synth-pop arrangement, a bit of indie rock darkness and even the sound of chanting monks in the backgroud makes this such a thrillingly original piece. Bits of Lorita Grahame's stupendous vocal and traces of the tune stay with you to hum at your leisure ("now you've let me down" is a line I've been repeating all week) but other elements come back upon relistening, revealing themselves covertly as if putting together one piece at a time of a sonic puzzle. Absolutely riveting.
But that's the thing: I'm so familiar with The Cure that their pretty great single seems like just another Cure song in a world packed to the brim with bloody Cure songs yet an out-of-nowhere work from Colourbox knocks me over. Three and a half decades ago it may have been easy to have been blown away by both, just as Shaw was. Still, it beats apologising for some duff singles which I'm afraid might be coming up.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
The Dentists: "Strawberries Are Growing in My Garden (and It's Wintertime)"
Not to be confused with the neo-Nazi punk band of the same name, The Dentists go full on sixties psyschedelic and nearly score a SOTF with "Strawberries Are Growning in My Garden". While you can't deny that they play with enthusiasm and their scholarship of Nuggets-era acid-garage is first rate, it feels too much like the throwback that it is. XTC's Dukes of Stratosphear project managed to pay homage to flower power pop while also sending it up but this sounds way too much like it's in love with the music of the past to bother with humour. But at least the combination of English tea-in-the-garden whimsy with some blistering American freak out Moby Grape energy makes for a fun listen. Destined for obscurity but worth seeking out.
One of the things I've been trying to do with this blog is to understand why different critics picked certain singles. Not to necessarily agree with their picks, just to get a grasp of what they must have seen in them. I feel that I've done so fairly well though with the nagging feeling that I've been apologising for some pretty duff records along the way.
There's little to apologise for this time, however. Last week, I dealt with joint Singles of the Fortnight as chosen by Tom Hibbert and this is the second issue on the bounce to have a pair of new releases sharing the crown. Just as Hibs handed out co-honours to one record he was very comfortable with (The Ramones: "ah, they don't make records like this anymore...") and a more left field pick as an act of contrition (Prefab Sprout: "having previously dismissed [them]...I now find myself having to eat my words"), top music journalist turned brilliant mystery novelist William Shaw is in a not dissimilar position, even if the pair of singles aren't as far apart stylistically (though they aren't all that similar either).
The safe pick for Shaw is The Cure. Admitting that they don't quite hit the mark every time ("every once in a while they turn out a completely and irresistably loveable tune..."), he nevertheless knows just what Robert Smith and whoever else happens to be part of his band are capable of. Having already toned down the gothic gloom of Seventeen Seconds and Pornography, a lightness had been added to their sound as well as an array of instruments heretofore unheard on a Cure record. "The Lovecats" and "The Caterpillar" and album The Top were the results of these experiments but it wasn't to last. By '85, percussionist Andy Anderson was out and Simon Gallup had returned to the fold and, as if acknowledging that they had to look back in order to go forward, a darker tone came back. Mixing the chiming whimsical nature of their work from the previous year with a more morose sound of old was the result.
The downside is that it's harder to appreciate now than back when it came out because it seems too much like a prototypical Cure single. It soars like "Just Like Heaven" and has the same sort of New Order-esque bass like "Pictures of You" and trips about like "High", records that all came after it. "The Lovecats" had been a one off but "In Between Days" sounds like a blueprint. Significantly, it became their first record to dent the American Hot 100 — albeit just barely — and feels like their journey to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame begins here. (None of this is intended to knock the record, only to show that when we think about music being 'dated' perhaps it means that we as listeners are the ones who haven't aged well and that we aren't able to listen to a song in a vacuum)
With traces of doo-wop and the classic girl groups, this is hardly a record without precedent. But the way it so effortlessly combines them with a beautiful synth-pop arrangement, a bit of indie rock darkness and even the sound of chanting monks in the backgroud makes this such a thrillingly original piece. Bits of Lorita Grahame's stupendous vocal and traces of the tune stay with you to hum at your leisure ("now you've let me down" is a line I've been repeating all week) but other elements come back upon relistening, revealing themselves covertly as if putting together one piece at a time of a sonic puzzle. Absolutely riveting.
But that's the thing: I'm so familiar with The Cure that their pretty great single seems like just another Cure song in a world packed to the brim with bloody Cure songs yet an out-of-nowhere work from Colourbox knocks me over. Three and a half decades ago it may have been easy to have been blown away by both, just as Shaw was. Still, it beats apologising for some duff singles which I'm afraid might be coming up.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
The Dentists: "Strawberries Are Growing in My Garden (and It's Wintertime)"
Not to be confused with the neo-Nazi punk band of the same name, The Dentists go full on sixties psyschedelic and nearly score a SOTF with "Strawberries Are Growning in My Garden". While you can't deny that they play with enthusiasm and their scholarship of Nuggets-era acid-garage is first rate, it feels too much like the throwback that it is. XTC's Dukes of Stratosphear project managed to pay homage to flower power pop while also sending it up but this sounds way too much like it's in love with the music of the past to bother with humour. But at least the combination of English tea-in-the-garden whimsy with some blistering American freak out Moby Grape energy makes for a fun listen. Destined for obscurity but worth seeking out.
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