PM Dawn: "I'd Die Without You"

28 October 1992

"They don't get up till three in the afternoon. They watch lots of cartoons. They talk to children. They take months to make records. What is it that makes PM Dawn so great?"

— Mark Frith

In a tradition that goes almost as far back as recorded music itself, African American artists found that there were appreciative audiences over in Europe while they were being ignored back home. Jazz musicians continued to face discriminitive practices such as having to use servants entrances and having to stay in black-only hotels while across the Atlantic in countries that still had blood on their hands from colonialism and in the midst of the fascist jackboot they were treated to more appreciative audiences and better pay. In Geoff Dyer's wonderful book But Beautiful there are anecdotes about the normally brutish Ben Webster suddenly mellowing as he rides around the continent by train. The sax great eventually lived out his remaining years in Denmark while others like Bill Coleman, Don Cherry and Dexter Gordon would find similarly permanent homes in various European countries. It's actually a wonder more jazz greats didn't end up relocating over there.

In more recent times, black pop groups like Shalamar and Cameo became stars in Britain even though they had been relegated to urban radio back home. These bands even managed to become beloved in the Old Empire (Shalamar for Jeffery Daniel's mind-blowing Moonwalk, Cameo for Larry Blackmon's codpiece). This scenario repeated itself throughout the eighties. While records such as Kon Kan's "I Beg Your Pardon" came with 'TOP US CHART HIT' emblazoned on the sleeve, groups like Inner City and Ten City were left to their own devices to score entries into the UK Top 40 — elusive success back home did nothing to prevent singles like "Good Life" and "That's the Way Love Is" taking the British listings by storm.

And so it was for PM Dawn — or so I thought. "Set Adrift on a Memory Bliss" had already been a British Top 5 hit when they tried their luck back in the States. For all I knew as a Canadian boy with more than a passing interest in the charts, they were British. I first caught "Set Adrift" on an episode of CBC music show Good Rockin' Tonite and I was certain that it would never catch on in North America. When it did, I figured they'd be quickly forgotten about while remaining stars back in the UK. What can I say? I've been wronger and stupider in my day.

PM Dawn's American success was no doubt aided by the smooth novelty of "Set Adrift" but their willingness to be more conventional going forward was also significant. Called in to contribute to the soundtrack to the 1992 Eddie Murphy vehicle Boomerang (a picture that I had completely forgotten about; I was probably waiting on that sequel to Coming to America to care; I would have a bit of wait ahead of me), they didn't take the lazy cover version route and nobly passed on sampling yet another hit from the eighties that few remembered ten years' on. What they had instead was a love song. An underwhelming love song at first but the sort of thing that grows on listeners when they gradually come to the conclusion that this is what they should have been doing all along.

"Set Adrift" remains their biggest hit and it's their one number that people are most likely to be aware of. Yet, "I'd Die Without You" is the better record and honestly it's not even close. Being present on the Boomerang OST seems like a cagey bit of genre classification on their part. With the likes of Boyz II Men and a duet featuring Babyface and Toni Braxton present and correct, this was effectively a sampler for contemporary American R&B. (Speaking of which, what the hell is 'Adult Contemporary'?) PM Dawn's contribution places them square within this movement while also subtly subverting it. The melodramatic title and Prince Be's emotive vocal give it that much needed 'keepin' it real' R&B vibe but the "breath-taking, mind-expanding love lament" that Mark Frith loves so much puts it a cut above those ultra-smooth Romeos that I once despised. This is far from being the sort of pablum used to get the ladies into bed; this is a crazed stalker, a lonely teenage boy scribbling verse which only he considers to be genius, a pathetic dude in his mid-thirties who can't keep a relationship together

PM Dawn only had about another year left as a relevant pop act which is a shame since they could have been the one male R&B troupe it was okay to like. As I have already discussed, the women were doing the heavy lifting, leaving the men to those drippy love songs that top the charts but inevitably leave those of us without the necessary sweet tooth to be throwing up in the can. American had already embraced PM Dawn and the UK didn't run away from them either. So why couldn't they have remained loyal just as Europeans had been towards generations of African American stars from the past?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Heavenly: The Fred EP

In terms of pure concept, no new release this fortnight can touch The Fred EP. Oh, isn't irony grand? You get to like things that suck! It's so cool! Flowered Up's version of former SOTF "Deeply Dippy" is the best thing going here, a countrified singalong to send up such a painfully British lyric. If I wasn't already convinced that it was Right Said Fred's only half-decent tune then this confirmed it. The Rockingbirds handed in a rocked up take on "Don't Talk, Just Kiss" which to their credit isn't any worse than the Fred's original but either way it's a piece of crap. Mark Frith reckons Saint Etienne's "I'm Too Sexy" is the highlight but I can't agree. Whatever humour had been present is excised here and what remains is a noisy dancefloor bit of nonsense. I love Bob Stanley, Pete Wiggs and Sarah Cracknell as much as any obscure music writer you care to name (not to mention plenty more you've never heard of) but their tendency to wink knowingly at their fans was not one of their strengths. If PM Dawn could buckle down and get serious, why couldn't they?

P.M. Dawn: "Set Adrift on a Memory Bliss"

7 August 1991

"Melt city!"

— Johnny Dee

As Brian Eno said, "only 10,000 people bought the first Velvet Underground album but everyone who did formed a band".

As Brian Eno also (probably) said, "only 10,000 people bought the first Flying Burrito Brothers album but everyone who did formed a country-rock band and purchased Nudie suits".

As Brian Eno also also (very probably said), "only 10,000 people bought the first Blue Nile album but everyone who did formed a sophisti-pop band and invested in Linn drum machines".

Oh, to be an unsuccessful but highly influential band. That's the life, man.

Being influential really is the dream. Especially if you love your pop and rock that stays true and doesn't sell out. And it gives critics and fans something  to talk about when there's not much else to say about its quality. Sod it if this album is a pain in the ass to listen to — *cough* Unknown Pleasures *cough* — just look how many groups I don't listen to that happened to be influenced by it!

Of course, being influential and successful aren't mutually exclusive. One only need look at The Beatles, even if it sometimes seems like they only impacted tired old three-chord power pop and not, like, the whole of popular music. Louis Armstrong was widely popular and deeply influential. So, too, was Duke Ellington. And also Hank Williams. And Elvis Presley. And Chuck Berry. And Bob Dylan. And so on and so forth. Honestly, every recording artist who reaches a certain level of popularity will have an impact on youngsters with dreams of careers in music. When groups like The Cure or Nine Inch Nails get elected to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame they're credited with their influence — but is this really any different from, say, Whitney Houston or James Taylor? (Though I will grant that the Dave Clark Five probably weren't very influential)

Tom Breihan's piece about P.M. Dawn's "Set Adrift on a Memory Bliss" on Stereogum goes heavy into its influence. And, sure, a unique hip hop single that managed to reach number one in the US was bound to have had an impact on the future of rap, even if it did little in the short term (though this is something I will soon dispel). But why lean into it so much? Could it be there's not much else to say about it? No, there isn't. Breihan likes it enough to give it a score of eight out of ten though you'd be hard pressed to be able to tell why. But, hey, it was influential, am I right? 

So, let's get into the impact. It's fascinating to consider that brothers Attrell and Jarrett Cordes had pieced together a number that fused many of pre-grunge trends of 1991. They had seemingly inherited the mantle of those flower power rap acts from a year earlier like Dream Warriors, The Jungle Brothers and Monie Love (even though they didn't appear to associate with these types). They were carrying on where German act Enigma had left off with the then astonishing "Sadeness Part 1" with samples from disparate sources providing them with a cool new age music. They were even early to hop on board of the eighties nostalgia train with the song's heavy reliance on Spandau Ballet's 1983 hit single "True". This may be the immediate legacy of "Set Adrift on a Memory Bliss" as from here on there came a steady stream of "Something Good" by Utah Saints (which borrowed from Kate Bush's "Cloudbusting"), "Save It for the Mourning After" by Shut Up and Dance and "I'll Be Missing You" by Puff Daddy over the course of the decade. There's your influence right there — one that isn't nearly as long term as Breihan thinks.

With my long-standing love of the eighties and allegiance to hippie hop, I should've loved P.M. Dawn but I just never connected with them. "Set Adrift" seemed neat and clever the first time I heard it but I could never get anywhere beyond admiring it. Prince Be's raps were really strong but his vocals came worryingly close to that sad nineties brand of R&B that would take over before long — and this is something they would lean more heavily on moving forward. I'd like to think that it's just the sort of chill out music for evenings in with a bottle of wine but it gets jarring to be a serious rival to Chet Baker or an ECM album. It's busier than you remember it being. Nowhere near as laid back as Johnny Dee reckons and I wasn't melting to it then and it has yet to melt me since. Nothing against it, mind you: it seemed utterly original at the time and was far from the worst thing on the charts. But it washed over listeners and has become strangely forgettable in the decades since.

Still, as Brian Eno also also also (very plausibly) said, "over a million people bought the first P.M. Dawn single and some of them formed hip hop combos and began scouring eighties' compilation albums for bits to sample". Suck it, Joy Division.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Flowered Up: "It's On"

There apparently was a time when Camden wasn't overrun with hip indie bands and tourists trying their best to find some charm in a frankly lifeless part of London. Somehow both dated and ahead of their time, Flowered Up tried to be an authentic baggy act from the nation's capital but the charms of Madchester had clearly begun to wear on the public after the (yet another) second summer of love. In a way, they were P.M. Dawn to De La Soul's Stone Roses, only much less successful. Dee suggests it's a bit of a grower and that's probably the case but ver kids weren't given the chance to let it grow on them. Britpop wouldn't come along for another three years but they seemed to be one of the acts that bridged the gap between eras. Buyers may have been ready for them by then but for the fact that Flowered Up clearly hadn't chosen a side: if they weren't quite Blur meets Oasis then they were Menswear meets Cast. North and south don't mix, lads but thanks for giving it a try.