Sananda Maitreya: "Let Her Down Easy"

10 November 1993

"If you've ever been in love with someone older or younger than you this will break your heart."

— Alex Kadis

As if trying to pull a Rolling Stone, Q Magazine had singer Sananda Maitreya "grace" its cover in June of 1993 wearing absolutely nothing, his member only covered up by a '...in the Q Interview' tag. Somehow or other this didn't convince otherwise neutral consumers from picking up his latest album. Sex sells but not necessarily shameless nudity.

Though they all failed to make the Top 10, the four singles taken from Sananda Maitreya's 1993 album Symphony or Damn did respectable business. Each one peaked somewhere in the teens with runs of four or five weeks apiece. Nothing spectacular but not bad and the sort of results that should have ensured that sales of his current L.P. would shore up. After-all, R.E.M. had been in a not dissimilar situation at around the same time with a series of not-quite smash hits contributing to the year's long success of Automatic for the People. Yet it didn't quite work out in similar fashion for Maitreya. The quartet of singles spent a total of seventeen weeks on the Top 40 while the album did just a dozen weeks on the equivalent listing — with the bulk of them coming in the thirties. By the time "Let Her Down Easy" was hitting the charts, Symphony or Damn was all but done.

Like "Everybody Hurts" (itself the fourth single from Automatic), "Let Her Down Easy" ought to have given him a big late-stage hit. While the record buying public loves a dramatic ballad, they no longer had much affection for the artist behind it. Quite why is another matter. Appearing starkers on the front of a popular music mag didn't help but the backlash came four years' earlier when second album Neither Fish nor Flesh came out. Hardly anyone noticed that it was out and those that did all seemed to dislike it. Kids who bought debut Introducing the Hardling According to Terence Trent D'Arby on cassette had moved on to the likes of Warrant and New Kids on the Block and Happy Mondays; yuppies who purchased it on CD had Tom Petty and Bonnie Raitt to be concerned with. That he managed to come back at all with a perfectly serviceable third album and a handful of singles that did okay is kind of remarkable all things considered.

Yes, perfectly serviceable. I think I overstated just how much I liked Symphony or Damn the last time I blogged about his nibs here. Full disclosure: I had never heard it prior to four months ago and I think its strengths really stood out while I was able to ignore its weaknesses. Such things happen when you've only given an album a single listen. It was brash with all of Maitreya's vast talent on full display. I couldn't believe how all-over-the-place it was. Now, I find it a little too scattered. Some albums such as bassist Jaco Pastorius' self-titled debut and The Style Council's Cafe Bleu are erratic in the best possible sense but this doesn't quite work on Symphony. Clocking in at over an hour is far too long for a non-compilation, especially one with such a ludicrous range of styles that struggle to mesh with one another.

As far as the singles are concerned though, Maitreya's diversity is a point in their favour. As I have already stated, "Do You Love Me Like You Say?" is a groovy rocker featuring the singer as his full-throated best. Next up was "Delicate", a duet with British pop/R&B vocalist Des'ree. Vaguely Asian sounding, it's a bit of a grower that steers clear of your typical soul power ballad cliches. Coming up third was "She Kissed Me" which puts D'Arby in clear rock territory. The tempting comparison to make is with Lenny Kravitz, particularly when it comes to the song's accompanying video, but with far less of a reliance on riffs and better songcraft. If the song itself is a little less impressive than its predecessors (or, indeed, its follow-up), it certainly provides a welcome reminder of Maitreya's extraordinary vocal range.

And so we come to "Let Her Down Easy" which is probably the finest song the man ever created. A classy track to close out Symphony or Damn, Maitreya dispenses with all the instrumentation and all those different styles and paying homage to his many influences (As Steve Sutherland stated in a largely negative review in the NME, "'Turn The Page' is TTD does Dylan, 'I Still Love You' is TTD does country, 'Seasons' is TTD does Jimi) in favour of a simple but highly effective piano ballad. Alex Kadis describes it as "wonderful, haunting, graceful" and she's absolutely correct. And, again, how great of a singer is Sananda Maitreya? 

As the quote above states, Kadis reckons "Let Her Down Easy" to be particularly moving if you've ever been besotted by someone who is either older or younger than you. Maybe but it's pretty fabulous either way really. I used to have a friend who once told me about the importance of keeping a romantic legend in one's memory. Have a spell with someone that goes fairly well and then move on without ever spoiling things in the future with a terrible break up or eventually getting back together. There might be some heartbreak and loneliness for a time but the wounds will heal in time and then you're left with the memory of someone who was just about the one but who slipped away. It's a nice thought and one that comes to mind when considering this single. The girl here is impressionable and full of life but that innocence could be snatched away at any time. If you're going to use her then at least try not to leave her in pieces when you inevitably skip town.

There's a deftness to both Maitreya's songwriting and overall performance. He's dealing with sensitive subject matter but he manages to sink into the nuances. This guy is probably a cad but he isn't painted as an outright monster. The girl is naive but you sense she knows what she's dealing with. This isn't a case of rape or abuse, more of a passing romance that is destined to end just as quickly as it started. Since it's just about done, why not try to end it in the best possible manner? Better to be remembered fondly than as a colossal mistake. Sex sells but bittersweet love keeps us coming back.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Urban Cookie Collective: "Feels Like Heaven"

Kadis hates their name (it isn't great but points for originality) and isn't overly fond of their latest single but otherwise okay, am I right? I've always quite liked "Feels Like Heaven" due to its addictive chorus and poppy techno dynamics but there is indeed something missing. Someone who is a dab hand at pop songwriting might have helped. (Sananda Maitreya for one) Much as I dig the verse-chorus back-and-forth, a middle eight would have been nice. Kadis claims ver Cookies are "at the forefront of the current batch of featureless, meaningless rave pap" and she's not wrong. Her giving them two out of five lacks a bit of generosity but there's no question this catchy record could have been a good deal stronger.

The Stone Roses: "One Love"

27 June 1990

"Not before time, eh?"

— Alex Kadis

Oh, you don't know the half of it, Alex. Bemoaning the fact that The Stone Roses had been seemingly at work on their latest single for "about 20 years", this good pop music critic was only getting the faintest of glimpses of what would plague Ian Brown, John Squire, Mani and Reni as they spent years struggling to follow their celebrated debut album and even carried over to their successful but still botched reformation. Waiting a couple extra months for their latest record suddenly doesn't seem like such an ordeal, does it?

If 1989 was the year that The Stone Roses broke through, 1990 would be the year that they fully benefited from it. It had been a slow process. Brown and Squire had been together for much of the eighties but they were just another singer-guitarist twosome yearning to be the next Morrissey and Marr. (Hard as it may be to believe, their both a few months older than The Smiths' guitarist) But if any group proved the value of sticking to it, it was ver Roses. Early singles flopped but they gradually built up a following (they infamously used shady tactics to upstage fellow Mancunian group James at a concert in 1988; a pity they didn't also nick some of their rivals' staying power while they were at it). After seven or eight years of graft, they were suddenly an overnight sensation.

Sitting on stacks of product, indie label Silvertone flooded the market. In their first year of chart relevance they had five singles reach the Top 40, with a sixth, a reissue of the twee 1987 recording "Sally Cinnamon", just missing out. With their self-titled album selling steadily, it was the stand-alone singles that proved to have much more commercial potential. The double A side of "Fool's Gold" and "What the World Is Waiting For" took them into the Top 10 in late 1989 and they repeated it early in the new year with a re-release of the Peter Hook-produced "Elephant Stone". A pair of great singles, to be sure, but the latter began to show signs of Morrissey-esque peaking in its first week before swiftly dropping off the hit parade. Their suddenly large fanbase was buying up their stuff but no one else was — something that would carry over with "One Love" and subsequent singles. But the critics were praising them, their Spike Island concert that May was a success and their records just kept selling. What could possibly go wrong?

It is perhaps with all this in mind that Alex Kadis warns of a "danger, when reviewing a Stone Roses single, of letting their immense reputation guide you rather than the true quality of their record". It's a wise piece of advice and she reckons that "One Love" is brilliant all the same. But is it?

Critics have dialled back somewhat on their praise of The Stone Roses over the years and "One Love" is frequently considered a botch, even when held up against their allegedly overrated first album. Personally, I still like The Stone Roses, even if it's been quite some time since I was young and impressionable enough to fully appreciate it (It's a great example of an album that has aged well but listeners haven't) but I'm on board with why most people have nothing positive to say about this follow-up single. Even up against "Bye Bye Badman", the album's weak link, it doesn't measure up. While John Leckie had done a superb job producing their material up to this point, there's an unwelcome muddiness to the sound on this. While Squire's guitar playing is outstanding on their earlier stuff, he begins to overthink his role as the band's musical conscience and the song's overabundance of solos and riffs sets a clear precedence for 1994's Zeppelin-lite Second Coming.

Finally, a word about Kadis' view that the Roses were contenders while their competitors were just pretenders. To her, they have everything going for them while bands like Inspiral Carpets and The Charlatans — groups who Richard Lowe also pointed to as inferior copies of the Roses and Happy Mondays — are simply those we have to "make do" with while we wait for the big boys to return. Brown "sings with real charisma as opposed to mumbling infrequently into his fringe and looking non-commital". And yet, only one Madchester act would be in for the long haul. The Stone Roses got caught up in a protracted legal battle with their record company and then proved that they had nothing left in the creative tank. Happy Mondays made the most of their big year but they imploded on far too many drugs and their own indie label that couldn't handle them. Inspiral Carpets, granted, were never up to much but The Charlatans would come together in spite of their own hardships and they would assemble one of the stronger discographies of nineties UK pop-rock. They were relatively prolific (they put out three albums before the Roses had even finished working on their second) and kept refining their sound. (Singer Tim Burgess has even become something of a national treasure in the UK, a stark contrast from the madcap conspiracy theorist Brown) The Charlatans may have started off as clones but they eventually became The Stone Roses ought to have been. Again, you don't know the half of it, Alex.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Tanita Tikaram: "Thursday's Child"

A young woman who once told Smash Hits that Leonard Cohen would've been an adequate replacement for Clark Datchler (coincidentally, also reviewed on this page but I couldn't bring myself to give his offering a listen) in Johnny Hates Jazz. That's all you need to know about how Tanita Tikaram fitted in with late-eighties' pop. No wonder she seemed like a bit of a joke, even if she seemed incapable of telling one herself. When judged as a folk singer, however, she struck the right balance of pop sensibility and seriousness. Expecting her to have a sense of humour or to lighten up a bit is not unlike demanding a more serious side from De La Soul. Kadis regonises a tune in "Thursday's Child" but can't get passed how somber her nibs sounds. Fair enough, I suppose, but Tikaram does what she does best and there was no one like her. Except, of course, for possible future Johnny Hates Jazz member Leonard Cohen.

Yazz: "Where Has All the Love Gone?"

5 April 1989

"Not to worry though, she's back on the road to recovery with this absolute corker of a ditty."

— Alex Kadis

Our year in England was moving right along. Though supposedly hardy Canadians, we shivered through a cold, damp winter in our tiny hovel with no central heating. A bandied about trip to Greece over the Easter break never happened, visits from grandparents, my aunt and young cousin and an uncle came and went and we were suddenly left we little to look forward to. My parents began planning our departure in August but this event was still months away and I carried on at school and kept up with the pop charts. Weekend trips became more and more frequent but their appeal began to dwindle in my eyes. That spring we visited Chester, Ipswich, Rochester and Rochester and all I wanted to do in these towns was visit their record shops (which generally involved flicking through singles and LP's in the local Boots, W.H. Smiths and/or Woolworths). The charts had changed as well and some of those mighty acts from the previous autumn were beginning to get left behind.

I had arrived in the UK in August of 1988 while "The Only Way Is Up" by Yazz & The Plastic Population was in control of the Top 40. As I wasn't quite tuned in to what was going on until it began to slip down the hit parade, the song passed me by but there was no escaping Yazz herself. She was tall, lanky and sported short hair that had been bleached white. She may not have looked like a pop star but she sure acted the part and there wasn't anyone else who seemed to be enjoying their time at the top as much as she did. Over the first few months I'd been in Britain, she was a chart fixture: follow-up single "Stand Up for Your Love Rights" was nearly as good as "The Only Way Is Up" and it came up just short of the top spot. She then unveiled a token slow song called "Fine Time" which did well enough, albeit with the gnawing sense that the law of diminishing returns was setting in. So-called "ballads" are often a singer's biggest hit but this wasn't the kind of thing anyone asked for from a dancefloor diva.

It was now spring and it was time for a change. Yazz returned with braids that may or may not have been real and a more girly image. As if addressing that her stature was not what it had been six months earlier, her latest single dealt with a lack of positive vibes. The second summer of love had produced the optimistic "The Only Way Is Up" and then as autumn arrived it was time to "Stand Up for Your Love Rights" but now it was a situation that asked "Where Has All the Love Gone?". Where once she she found hope in spite of not knowing "where our next meal is coming from" now she's found herself in a state of not having enough love to go round.

"Where Has All the Love Gone?" first appeared on Yazz's debut album Wanted. This original version was very much of its time with acid house all over it. The squelching and repetitive piano bits sound really cool now but by the early part of 1989 they had become hackneyed and tired and for the remix they were pushed to the background, giving the song a cleaner pop sound reminiscent of the Pet Shop Boys. The "strings" lend the song an elegance that it didn't previously possess and they place it alongside Soul II Soul, who were then on the rise (and who we'll be seeing on this blog before long). Last year's dance music fad could easily be usurped by this year's and it's a credit to Yazz that she had the vocals and the tunes to adapt to new trends — though not for long.

While I wouldn't go quite as far as Alex Kadis in my praise of "Where Has All the Love Gone?", it is by far the rightful Single of the Fortnight. Granted, this issue's ten selections are a mighty poor crop. Inner City's "Ain't Nobody Better" is probably the closest thing to Yazz having some serious competition and it's a passable (if forgettable) let down after the Detroit techno duo's double whammy of fabness "Big Fun" and "Good Life". There's not much else of note with even the usually reliable Wendy & Lisa seemingly content to remain in Prince's shadow with the inconsequential "Lolly Lolly" — but at least they'd be back. U2 and B.B. King? Nah! Simple Minds? Pass! Given the bleak terrain, is it any wonder Kadis is so taken by a decent Yazz record?

This same issue of Smash Hits includes a short write-up in Bitz with a photo of another short-haired young woman and a headline asking, "Is This Woman the New Yazz?" Lisa Stansfield had been a veteran of close to a decade's worth of pop failure (she even had a Single of the Fortnight of her own way back in 1982) but she was now on the cusp of success for allegedly being just like the UK's biggest dance-pop singer of the time. Similarities were obvious (short crops, working with Coldcut, elastic voices) but only one would emerge as a true global star. Kadis is hopeful that Yazz would be on the road to recovery but her stock would plummet soon enough and a return in 1990 didn't amount to much. By then, Stansfield had started to have hits in North America and I began wondering why the Old Yazz wasn't able to be more like the New Yazz.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Debbie Gibson: "Electric Youth"

And speaking of singers whose chart life was on borrowed time. Debbie Gibson had been a talented musician and songwriter and her 1988 album Out of the Blue was only going to be the beginning. A year later and she was "pushing" nineteen and it was clearly time for her to get serious. "Lost in Your Eyes" did well in the US giving her a second number one single but the British failed to be similarly charmed by it the way they had been so taken by "Foolish Beat" a year earlier. So, how about another upbeat youthful singalong, then? Well, "Electric Youth" proved to be even less convincing than her earnest stuff. "Out of the Blue" and "Shake Your Love" had been glorious pop songs but this was just cheesy and cringe-inducing and the sort of thing that would've been more at home back in '86 to soundtrack the horrible American teen show Kids Incorporated. As Kadis says, songs about generations are generally poor and this is no exception. Yet, I liked it back in '89 but listening to it today I have no idea why.

Erasure: Crackers International

30 November 1988

"They seem to be getting better and better, and this is no exception to the rule."

— Alex Kadis

Side 1: "Lady Madonna"; "Across the Universe"

Side 2: "The Inner Light"; "Hey Bulldog"

This is the track listing of what should have been the greatest EP of all time. The Beatles were getting ready for their meditation retreat in northern India but they were contractually obligated to release a single while they were away. George Harrison had already been in the subcontinent working on the soundtrack to the film Wonderwall and he produced a session with Indian musicians for his composition "The Inner Light". He took it back with him to London where he laid down his vocals at the encouragement of John Lennon and Paul McCartney who both liked the guitarist's latest work. As if spurred on by Harrison, his bandmates contributed some nice material as well. McCartney delivered "Lady Madonna" which would soon give the Fab Four yet another number one single while Lennon offered up both "Across the Universe" and "Hey Bulldog". Macca and Harrison's tracks would be used for their next single while Lennon's were held over for a charity album and the Yellow Submarine soundtrack respectively. None of the four are top flight songs but they're all very good and they would have become more than the sum of their parts had they been bundled together.

EPs exist in the grey area between singles and albums. If kept to three or four tracks (or even two in the case of Bjorn Again's Erasure-ish) they may qualify for the Top 40; if they go over their allotment, they become more like an album, especially if their running length goes past the twenty minute mark. (Even then, the lines aren't clear: I know of at least one R.E.M. fan who recognises Chronic Town, with just a quartet of tracks, to be an album; this blog will be looking at an extreme and oddball example next month) Effectively taking the place of the 10" record, EPs became a compromise between the brevity of the 7" single and the sheer length of the album. The Beatles dominated the EP charts every bit as much as they did the more renowned formats. Young people who couldn't afford to buy With The Beatles at least had the opportunity to invest in All My Loving which siphoned off four of its choice deep cuts. During their commercial peak they only issued one EP of original material and it was the mixed bag Long Tall Sally, which includes "Slow Down" and "Matchbox", probably the two worst covers they ever did. The EP chart died away towards the end of 1967 by which point The Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour double EP was ready and was suddenly eligible for the singles chart (it got to no. 2 behind their own "Hello Goodbye").

Side 1: "Stop!"; "The Hardest Part"

Side 2: "Knocking on Your Door"; "She Won't Be Home"

EPs would eventually become a favourite format of punk groups and indie acts as a way of covering more ground than with a simple 7". Three or four tracks to choose from meant that there would be a better chance that someone's interest would be peaked by at least one of them and they were almost as cheap to make. The brilliant Spiral Scratch by Buzzcocks helped spur the revival of the EP and it wouldn't be long before rival punk and post-punk acts all over Britain were releasing their own.

A pop band signed to indie label Mute (where Vince Clark had remained since his days with both Depeche Mode and Yazoo), Erasure had a streak of the anti-commercial band about them and one who still retained a deep connection with their fans. 1988 had been a big year for them with a number one album The Innocents and three hit singles and they would soon win that year's Best Group award at the Brits. No one would've faulted them for choosing to release a fourth (especially considering Michael Jackson had just put out "Smooth Criminal", his seventh single from Bad — and he wasn't even done there!) but they admirably decided to try their luck with an EP of all new material. It's a wonder they didn't slap a giant 'OUR XMAS GIFT TO YOU!' sticker on the sleeve.

Unusually, Smash Hits had the lyrics for both "Stop!" and "Knocking on Your Door" printed in the same issue, as if thinking that both songs would be in competition with each other from both radio and TV. Didn't happen. My sister bought Crackers International (notably before we had anything to play it on, though it wouldn't be long before she acquired a record player from a friend) which would be my first chance to see a 7" record that looked like an LP. Each side had markings for the separate tracks! I only knew "Stop!" but there seemed to be so much more! While Crackers International was printed on the sleeve, effectively "Stop!" became the single and there didn't seem to be much point in the rest. (A similar scenario would unfold in the early part of 1989 when Simple Minds went to number one with their quasi-EP Ballad of the Streets though everyone knew it as "Belfast Child") While Erasure's loyal fanbase would have jumped for joy at an EP's worth of all new songs, the average listener only seemed to care about the one they kept hearing everywhere. (Pub jukeboxes, a recent obsession of mine, carried special editions that only featured "Stop" and what was its de facto b-side "Knocking on Your Door")

"Stop!" hogged the airplay and it subsequently appeared on various artist compliation and Erasure's handful of greatest hits compilations over the years. With a hard-hitting hi-NRG beat, Andy Bell's vocal histrionics and some nicely placed seasonal bells, it's easy to see why. Yet, listened to in the context of one of their best of's gives away that that it's repetitive and flimsy. The lyrics to "Ship of Fools" may have been nonsense but it remains a compelling song nonetheless. "A Little Respect" told the tale of being looked down upon in a relationship: well-trodden subject matter in song but one that Bell and Clark managed to keep fresh. But "Stop!" has a verse and a chorus and the two go back-and-forth from there — and their patented philosophical insights are nowhere to be found. It's just under three minutes long yet it somehow overstays its welcome.

It was only after a friend of my sister's let us have her portable record player for the remainder of our time in England that I got to hear "The Hardest Part", "Knocking on Your Door" and "She Won't Be Home". "Stop!" was all right but I didn't like it as much "A Little Respect" and I was hoping for some hidden treasures. "The Hardest Part" was my first exposure to one of those reflective Andy Bell numbers that take a lot of time to get used to: though I've since come round, I hated "Breath of Life" when I first heard it and I've never managed to warm to either "You Surround Me" or "Always" and it falls into this trajectory. (Bell frequently aspires to profundity but only sometimes pulls it off) I convinced myself that "Knocking on Your Door" was the true single but it lacks the immediacy of their classic singles so I guess there's a reason no one bothered with it. "She Won't Be Home" was a belated attempt to make it more of a Christmas project but I can't help but feel that there's a reason it's hiding away there on the second side's last track. Even so, the four tracks do hang rather well together in much the same way that the Lady Madonna EP does: it just isn't anywhere near as good.

Nevertheless, Crackers International felt like a monumental single that December. The Christmas Number One race was about to come down to Bros, Kylie & Jason and Cliff Richard and Erasure represented the alternative to all that yuletide schlock. Pet Shop Boys had already had their moment of stealing the Xmas thunder a year previously and now it was Bell and Clark's turn. They stood for all those quality records that were all destined to come up short: Neneh Cherry's "Buffalo Stance", Inner City's "Good Life", New Order's "Fine Time". One of those may have been your favourite but why not get behind the one hope of a decent Christmas Number One that's not going to make the pop kids with good taste in music hurl? These aren't any of the best tracks Erasure has ever done but they're all new and there are four of them! Four! Sometimes quantity manages to trump quality.

Crackers International became a huge hit, falling just short of the top spot in the early part of 1989. The cover art and the last track that no one listened to aside, there wasn't much of a connection with Christmas so it continued to sell strongly past the New Year. Ultimately, it signaled where they'd be heading with their next album Wild!, a much more serious and somber collection of songs that what was on The Innocents (even though you'd think it would have been the other way around given their titles). Singles like "Drama" and "Blue Savannah" did well but the duo strove a bit too hard to create a masterpiece and ended up with something uncharacteristically boring instead. Luckily, their grasp of great pop would quickly return in 1991, which they would in turn follow-up with another EP which would be even more mediocre than Crackers but one that managed to be widely popular and strangely influential.

Side 1: "A Century of Fakers"; "Le pastie de la bourgeoisie"

Side 2: "Beautiful"; "Put the Book Back on the Shelf/Songs for Children"

Okay, 3.. 6.. 9 Seconds of Light didn't have sides because it's from the heyday of the CD era (though I wouldn't be at all surprised to see it reissued on "vinyl" for Record Store Day or some other attempt at pathetically trying to prop up the music industry) but it follows along the same lines as Lady Madonna and Crackers International. Only (a) it's real and (b) it's truly outstanding. Groups like Belle & Sebastian gave a new life to the EP because they made the format a priority. They didn't cynically plop a single in disguise on their extended plays, nor did they time their releases strategically for Christmas. They selected tunes that were of the highest caliber, not leftovers from their most recent album. The tracks are diverse and wonderful. The Beatles never contemplated such a work and Erasure didn't have it in them so good on Belle & Sebastian for offering up the greatest EP of all time.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

U2: "Angel of Harlem"

Alex Kadis isn't terribly impressed with ver 2's second single from Rattle & Hum, feeling that they're trying to sound far too American. This is a valid complaint of their stuff in general from this time but I'm not sure "Angel of Harlem" is especially guilty of over-cultural appropriation. In fact, one of its chief virtues is how it doesn't understand Americana. Meant as a tribute to legendary jazz vocalist Billie Holiday with references to Charlie Parker ("Birdland"), Miles Davis and John Coltrane (none of whom ever worked with Lady Day), we are not greeted to the sound of U2 doing old school swing or improvisation; instead, they decided to recreate sixties' soul because...black people? Problematic? Possibly but Bono, The Hedge and the other two get away with it because they're not in over their heads trying to re-do Stax records. As with much of Rattle & Hum, this is a tribute that says much more about them than the legends they supposedly revere but if they're doing something as wonderful as this, who am I to complain? As many have remarked, it's the closest thing to a Christmas song they ever did and it's surprising it didn't do better.

Nick Heyward: "You're My World"

24 August 1988

"So has "young" Nick adandoned his old ways and given up on those fearlessly commercial snorters of yesteryear? Has he heck!"

— Alex Kadis

I'm on Twitter quite a bit (@PaulMargach, gimme a follow!) and I recently began participating in a challenge called #PopInjustice. Every day, we post a single that somehow missed the UK Top 40 and then moan about how moronic the British public were for spurning said record in favour of some giant pile of flaming crap from The Firm or Bombalurina. Of course, it's easy to bemoan a beloved flop but there are more factors at play than simply blaming a bunch of dumbass consumers and their lousy taste in music. Some records fail due to poor or nonexistent marketing, others because a lack of budget behind them. Some because of bad reviews, others because of pop stars refusing to play the game. And some just slip through the cracks.

This issue of Smash Hits includes a feature in Bitz about once-big pop acts that had disappeared but were back (BACK!). "Being a pop star," the piece begins, "is a lot like being the pilot of an interstellar vehicle that's a-whistlin' its way through the galaxies and byways of outer space, is it not?" The intro goes on to describe the pop life as reaching the heavens before slipping into a black hole, never to be heard from again. But some manage to climb their way out of ver hole and the Hits was determined to celebrate them all! "Returning" are Marc Almond, Dead or Alive, Europe, Billy Mackenzie, Spandau Ballet, Midge Ure and Nick Heyward. All had once enjoyed pop success (Almond, Mackenzie, Ure and Heyward with Soft Cell, The Associates, Ultravox and Haircut One Hundred respectively) but their fortunes had begun to dry up more recently. Of this lot, only Almond would enjoy a sustained return to the charts while the rest would return to the black hole from which they crawled out of. Or something.

I was a bit hard on Nick the last time he came up in this space (let me just say that I wrote it in haste at Gimhae International Airport in Busan, South Korea just prior to taking a lengthy trip back to Canada for a visit and my lack of consideration clearly shows; I'll be revising it at some point in the future) despite the fact that I've long been fond of Haircut One Hundred and "Love Plus One" in particular. But being only four or five years old back in their Pelican West heyday, I wouldn't discover them until much later. It was only in 1988 that I started to become aware of Heyward and it was all because of Smash Hits.

"You're My World" is practically the definition of the term 'radio friendly' but I never heard it at the time. I would be starting school in Billericay, Essex in September so perhaps I missed Heyward's "comeback" record playing during the day. He also appeared on Wogan at around this time but we were a family still trying to work out English culture and what happened to be on the telly (my parents gravitated first towards sitcoms like Square Deal and No Frills). If he did happen to pop up on Saturday pop-centred show Going Live, I wouldn't have seen it since my parents were determined to spend as many weekends away from our sad little Basildon hovel as possible. In effect, this was a single that existed only on the pages of Smash Hits — even though I was still a fortnight away from discovering the magazine at all. (My real introduction to Nick would be in reviews of the sadly overlooked I Love You Avenue album and in a future Single of the Fortnight that I'll be getting to before long)

"You're My World" doesn't crop up on any of Heyward's compilations which makes me wonder if he has a low opinion of his work from this time. While the eccentricities of his Haircut One Hundred material have been ironed out, this is still the work of an exceptional craftsman. The early eighties for many songwriters had been about mixing indie curios with jazz and funk influences and his resulted in the rise of acts such as Aztec Camera and Prefab Sprout. By the end of the decade, much of this quirky pop had transformed into smooth sophisti-pop with groups like Breathe and Johnny Hates Jazz and Living in a Box dulling what had come before. Heyward still looked to sixties pop for inspiration while also adding touches of synth-pop and even a sly bit of Stock Aitken Waterman to keep things current (those generic backing vocals on the chorus are straight out of the SAW playbook, though they were also being used by the Pet Shop Boys).

The single slipped by this young Canadian who had just arrived in the UK and hadn't yet begun to explore the charts. As for everyone else, there may be all sorts of reasons they chose to take a pass on "You're My World". But we all missed out. Great singles by gifted songwriters don't come along all the time. We would have to wait until the next time Nick Heyward would be back (BACK!).

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Level 42: "Heaven in My Hands"

A consistent chart act coming off their biggest album, it probably seemed like the good times were only going to continue for the jazz funksters, especially with this being best single they'd ever release. Little did they know it was beginning to wind down. "Heaven in My Hands" got snapped up by loyal Level 42 fans but neutrals weren't having it and it quickly slid down the charts. Considering the abundance of pop hooks, strong metal influence and a nice horn section, you'd think they were open for business to as many listeners as possible. (Even Bros bassist Craig Logan constantly bringing up his idol Mark King in interviews didn't help them reach a new audience; though, in fairness, "Ken" was the one that no one paid any attention to) All over the place in 1987, it's possible that people had had enough of them a year later but, yet again, they were the ones missing out. The black hole of pop beckoned.

Blue Mercedes: "Love Is the Gun"

15 July 1988

"It's by far the most singable swingaway tune to have been released for centuries (well, the last two weeks anyway), even though the lyrics are teetering on the pervesque and we'll never quite know why love is the "gun", but such is the way of this thing they call pop..."

— Alex Kadis

Like all genres and sub-genres, synth-pop has its superstars. The members of Kraftwerk are its founding fathers and Gary Numan its Bowie-esque overlord that all most subsequent acts looked up to. Groups like The Human League and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark emerged out of post-punk while New Order and Sparks evolved out of guitars and into electronics. Pet Shop Boys and Erasure brought top-level songwriting. Depeche Mode were the indie darlings and every North American junior high school's outsider band of choice. These groups all became highly successful and are even admired and/or liked by listeners who identify far more with supposed 'real ale' rock.

But what of the also-rans? The D.I.Y. approach of punk encouraged youths to form their own bands out of the core of guitar, bass and drums. Keyboards and synths weren't required and, if anything, demanded a technical proficiency that went against the spirit of the age. Synth singles and albums were popular but none managed to pull a Velvet Underground: Brian Eno never observed that there was an obscure electro-pop record that inspired everyone who bought it to form bands and invest in a fairlight. The inspiration that the big acts provided wasn't even restricted to those noodling on synths: Numan and Depeche Mode ended up being godfathers to nineties industrial rock by the likes of Nine Inch Nails and Linkin Park.

The synth-pop gene pool wasn't deep. One of the few groups to come along that largely didn't register with the masses was Blue Mercedes. While they did have a Top 30 hit with "I Want to Be Your Property", it would prove a one-and-done scenario. They did do better on the dance charts and that's where their work belongs, especially if they had come along about five years earlier. Sure, a bit of acid house squelching helps to put it squarely in 1988 but this isn't enough to expose it as dated even at that time,

"Love Is the Gun" is a product of the dance clubs and is not unlike earlier Singles of the Fortnight from Bobby O and Sylvester, only not quite as good. The production/engineering team of Phil Harding and Ian Curnow (who also happened to be Stock Aitken Waterman's "B" squad at their Hit Factory studios, which goes someway to explaining why their names were all over the credits of the bulk of late-eighties' UK pop albums and singles) provide an ecstatic atmosphere but it isn't enough to hide the thinness of the material. SAW's work from this period could vary from excellent (Mel & Kim, some Bananarama) to pitiful (Sabrina, Mandy Smith) but their writing tended to be relatable, even only on a superficial level. Alex Kadis detects some perviness and that could very well be but it isn't the kind favoured by Prince. Seldom has sex sounded so unsexy.

Though far from a selection packed with quality, there are at least two vastly superior records on offer this fortnight. Either INXS's "Never Tear Us Apart" or Public Enemy's "Don't Believe the Hype" ought to have been named SOTF. Kadis has praise for both but instead opts for "Love Is the Gun" for its sheer catchiness. Fair enough but Blue Mercedes only manage to succeed at exposing the limitations of synth-based pop. INXS weren't doing anything fundamentally new on their hugely popular album Kick but they were a surprisingly tight sextet and they were anything but dinosaurs in spite of Michael Hutchence refusing to hide how much he yearned to be Jim Morrison. Public Enemy were paving the way for a hip hop revolution and their lineup of an angry rapper (Chuck D), humourous rapper (Flavor Flav) and DJ (Terminator X) was much more D.I.Y. than anything that had ever come out of punk. One group looked to the past for a creative spark, the other was all about the future: better either of those than the present.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Transvision Vamp: "I Want Your Love"

Kadis concludes by stating that the latest single from Transvision Vamp will "probably be a flop as well". Far from it though. The critics never took to the Vamps but the public loved them enough to give them a number one album in 1989. "I Want Your Love" is the first of two singles with Wendy James singing on them that people of a certain age and from certain regions are likely to know. Again, there was something of the 'we can do this too' mentality to the pop metal here. James was such a compelling figure because she was such a composite: glamourous but in a trashy, working class way, a tough, outspoken feminist yet someone who might just as soon get their kit off at a moment's notice. Not the best singer but a good focal point of the band. Anyway, "I Want Your Love" is stupid but just try not singing along. Can't do it, can you?