— Ian Birch
"There's this word 'Art'," Kim Wilde explained to Mark Ellen at the end of 1981. "There seems to be this tremendous disrespect for Pop Stars, but if people put this 'Art' sticker on you, then they don't feel so guilty about liking you."
As one of the rising stars of '81, Kim Wilde had to deal with a pair of labels that chafed. One was that she was just another chart topping bimbo (something she would later embrace and satirize on future Single of the Fortnight "Love Blonde"), the other was the contention that she was in fact a serious artiste. As you may have noticed, one of these descriptions isn't as damning as the other. No matter, Kim wasn't having any of it. Except for the fact that she was entering her most artsy period.
Ellen's interview with Wilde took place at about the time she was promoting "Cambodia", her fourth single of the year and first not to be tied to her self-title debut album. It also happened to have a much darker edge to it than the new wave power pop that had made her successful. Though critically acclaimed (not, mind you, by Smash Hits, who didn't even review it — and this was from a time when there would typically be two dozen new releases on the singles page), it failed to return her to the Top 5 heights of both "Kids in America" and "Chequered Love". Nevertheless, number twelve is fair enough and interest in it was enough to allow it to linger around the Top 20 for six weeks.
"Cambodia" signaled that changes were coming. Father Marty Wilde was still writing the lyrics and he evidently chose to go into deeper subject matter than trivial affairs like boys and tinnitus. Quite whether "Cambodia" happens to be about "someone who loses her lover in sad circumstances" (Kim's explanation) or PTSD caused by the early-seventies' Cambodian incursion (my interpretation; who's to say who's correct even though it's Kim), it was heavy. Not keen to lighten things up for the follow-up, Marty went with thoughts of suicide.
That's right, thoughts of suicide. The song concludes with Kim's character's fate left undecided. Sure, she admits to hearing a voice that said "jump" and she "just let go" but then admits that she's unsure if this is "fact or fantasy". Actually, I wonder if it's all meant to be a dream: she's watching from the bridge as a heartbroken girl plunges into the Thames or the Severn or the Tyne only to discover that the jumper is in fact her ("I see it's me").
Luckily, the grim lyrics contrast with a more upbeat, synth-driven tune composed by brother Ricki which gives it much more of a pop feel than its predecessor (and, indeed, the single that followed it). Though her chart fortunes were trending downward, this probably helped it give her a fifth Top 20 hit on the bounce. It would be difficult not to conclude that the narrative is bleak but the bounciness of the tune may have fooled a few youngsters out there.
Marty the lyricist spun perhaps his finest verses, Ricki the musician/producer put together a gorgeous arrangement with, as Ian Birch rightly notes, a stirring intro and, not to allow her father and brother to hog the credit, Kim the vocalist dials back on her patented vacant style of singing in order to put in a much more emotive performance. Quite whether the Wilde trio caught this audio synergy due to their familial ties is not for me to judge but there's no question all three had peaked in their respective tasks all at once. Kim Wilde may have been perfectly happy being a pop star but singles like "View from a Bridge" are art pop documents able to stand proudly alongside the best creations of many more serious artistes.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Joan Jett & The Blackhearts: "I Love Rock 'n' Roll"
Another one of those 'Songs You Didn't Know Were Covers' even though I did know that but thanks all the same. Strangely, it never comes up on lists of 'Popular Songs That Actually Suck'. I guess that's because of all that cool rockin' out with leather jackets and guitar parts that anyone could play and all that shouting. Good stuff unless you're one of those miserable spoil sports like myself who wants something more from their pop music. The video opens with a rip roaring selection from the far superior Joan Jett number "Bad Reputation" which really ought to have undermined "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" in the eyes of more people than just your's truly. Birch reckons it's nothing but a "lumbering elk" and "Suzi Quatro on a slow turntable". Dismal — but by all means keep shouting along if you're into this sort of shit.
(Click here to see my original review)
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