— Caroline Sullivan
As a fourteen-year-old I thought that EMF were clever. Dead clever. They had first become popular with "Unbelievable" and then they eventually followed it with "Lies". Finally, they completed the trilogy with "I Believe". See what I mean? They had shown skepticism, had determined that everyone else was full of shit and then professed that in the end there were truths that they believed in. They couldn't have planned the release of their first three singles better. Clever, clever, clever. (And even cleverer four years later when they did a cover of The Monkees' "I'm a Believer" along with Vic Reeves, who we'll be encountering in this space before long, and Bob Mortimer, who we won't)
Only later did I discover that this was not the order in which they came out. "Unbelievable" — seemingly the only song of their's anyone remembers anymore — did indeed arrive first but it was "I Believe" that followed it into the UK Top 10. Then "Children", a track I had only known as a deep cut until very recently, gave them their third hit single. It was only then that "Lies" came out as the diminishing returns began to take their toll. In North America we got "Lies" right after "Unbelievable" which led me to believe it had been that way back in Britain.
"Lies" had been a key track on EMF's debut album Schubert Dip. While others, particularly my fellow North Americans, had only got the CD for "Unbelievable", I was pretty heavily into the whole thing for a short period. (I got it from my sister for Christmas; by February I had lost interest in it in favour of The Wonder Stuff's Never Loved Elvis even though I hadn't given up completely on "Epsom Mad Funkers") I had heard that early copies had been deleted due to the use of Mark David Chapman quoting from the opening lines of John Lennon's "Watching the Wheels" ("People say I'm crazy doing what I'm doing. They give me all kinds of warnings to save me from ruin...") which Yoko Ono had objected to. It was, therefore, much to my surprise that the forbidden sample was included on my disc as a lead in to "Lies". The song was already unsettling enough but to have it open with the ghostly, southern drawl of Lennon's assassin made it even more disturbing. Yet it was gripping for me at the time. Its piano part is house-influenced (in fact, it's probably nicked from a rave tune) but for it to appear on a deeply disturbing indie record was something I had never experienced before. ("Fun" fact (those inverted commas are doing some awfully heavy lifting): "Lies" would soon lead me towards reading J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye and, eventually, Albert Goldman's The Lives of John Lennon, both due to curiosity surrounding Lennon's killer and his obsessions)
But I only stayed for "Lies"; I came for "Unbelievable". While fellow Canadian youths undoubtedly heard it as a white boy reaction to hip hop, for me it was the next logical step in Madchester. EMF weren't directly associated with baggy groups like The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays but from my vantage point across the Atlantic they seemed like much the same thing: dance music with guitars — or, better yet, guitar rock with a DJ along for the ride. Everyone I liked was into "Unbelievable" and everyone I hated loved it too. We may have loved it for different reasons but at least there was a detente.
So, their first single hooked me and the second made me such a committed fan that I would eventually purchase EMF's second album Stigma (it's all right or at least it was all the way back in early '93 when I last gave it a listen). But "I Believe" slipped through the cracks somewhat. "Lies" had piggybacked off of the success of "Unbelievable" but the momentum wasn't strong enough to eek out a third hit in Canada and the US. But even as a young fan, it was a song that failed to make much of an impression as I got into the album. For one thing, expressing that they were not nihilists didn't do them any favours in my book as an angsty teen. More importantly, it was too much of a poor cousin to "Unbelievable". Obviously inferior but not even distinctive enough to lend them credibility. It was as if they knew they couldn't possibly ever follow their breakthrough hit and decided to phone in some shit that was kind of like it but nowhere close to as addictive or appealing.
Finally, it should be mentioned that this is the first singles review from 1991. Veteran pop critic Caroline Sullivan made her debut "doing" the singles in ver Hits and she proves to be right at home alongside your Chris Heaths, William Shaws and Sylvia Pattersons. (It only begs the question why she was bothered being at the Melody Maker for so as long as she did) Making her maiden voyage easier is the loaded selection of singles she had to deal with. Eschewing the notion that January is a dead month for new releases, some big names are on board here. Very few have their best material on offer but that's beside the point.
Some were longtime chart favourites while others were emerging but the majority in either case were just about done. Rick Astley was back (and soon to be gone again), Gloria Estefan had returned from a horrible bus crash injury to a pop scene that had used her convalescence to move on from her, Bananarama had left the Stock Aitken Waterman stable but managed to sound tied to them more than ever before. The Go-Go's had returned with faculties intact and raging but hardly anyone remembered them anymore. Brother Beyond had just enjoyed an American breakthrough but the decision to go in the direction of a boy band doing new jack swing wasn't going to help them in the long run.
And yet, the new blood didn't have it any better. Vanilla Ice's novelty had mercifully vanished. Lindy Layton had milked her success from singing on Beats International's "Dub Be Good to Me" a year earlier but the udders were now dry. Oleta Adams' "Get Here" remains magnificent (it would've been my co-Single of the Fortnight along with the number below) but she was even more unable to follow her smash than EMF were with their's. Ultra cool acts A Tribe Called Quest ("Seriously, isn't rap getting a bit boring?") and Pop Will Eat Itself ("Pretty good, really": I beg to differ) had breakthrough hits with their offerings but how far were either of them going to go? As for Maureen, who? (Fun fact which is a good deal more fun than the supposed fun fact above: every act reviewed this fortnight by Sullivan had at least one Top 40 hit in Britain at some point which must be a first)
And back to EMF (I know I said "finally" about three paragraphs ago but bear with me). The Madchester urchins were all pushing thirty so it must have been nice to see some young groups take up the mantle. There's always room for some thrilling, youthful pop and EMF were the right sort of act to provide it in '91. It couldn't hope to last but at least they weren't as insufferable as fellow English alt-dance-rockers Jesus Jones, another younger group but one that seemed ready and willing to enter a premature middle age. I'm very happy to report that we still haven't had to deal with them in this space.
Yeah, about that...
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Queen: "Innuendo"
Whenever I think that Queen are massively overrated a song of their's comes along to remind me that they did have their moments. Operatic hard rock was their specialty which ensures that "Bohemian Rhapsody", "Somebody to Love", "Who Wants to Live Forever" and "Innuendo" are probably the best songs they ever did and I can give or take the rest. (All right fine, "You're My Best Friend" is a banger as well but that's it!) '91 looked to be yet another good year for Freddie Mercury, John Deacon and the other two: "Innuendo" gave them a number one smash and the album of the same name repeated the feat the following month. By the end of the year, however, Mercury's death would overshadow everything else, quickly rendering this single a forgotten gem. One that is definitely worth revisiting from what is still an overrated band.
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