C.O.D.: "In the Bottle"

12 May 1983

"The week's most modern dance sound."

— Neil Tennant

As has been discussed on here before, Neil Tennant was busy getting his musical aspirations in order while also toiling away the Hits. (I was going to say he was doing so in his space time but I wouldn't be terribly surprised if the two tasks crossed over quite a bit) Pop dominance wasn't the forefront of his mind as this early stage, however; what he and partner Chris Lowe envisioned was to cut a single in the States that would only be available on import in the shops in Britain. With the balance of power in the hands of the big record labels at the expense of the indies and the spread of HMV, Tower Records and the Virgin Megastores in the nineties, imported music became easier to get but it still retained a certain cachet, if only to get a shrink-wrapped compact disc with an IMPORT sticker emblazoned on it. Nevertheless, it's not quite the same as poking around in a dusty old shop and coming across a record that somehow worked its way over the Atlantic or ordering the latest 12" dance sensation from an obscure enthusiast label (or so I hear, having never done so myself).

Sigh, another Tennant review, another piece all about the Pet Shop Boys. Readers of this blog will doubtless be wondering if I have nothing else of note to say about eighties' dance music and they're not wrong. If anything, this project has only upped my appreciation of ver Pet Shops as a pair who managed to cram the best bits of disco, hip-hop and synth-pop into their sound while deftly avoiding the pitfalls of their some of their forefathers. In short, what got them out of the specialty import shops and into every Our Price, Boots, WH Smith's and Woolworth's. In terms of song structure, no one influenced them more than Bobby O; as far as sampled sound effects go, we may look no further than C.O.D. Indeed, the first fifty-or-so seconds of "In the Bottle" practically sound like an awkward instrumental megamix of songs from the first Pet Shops album Please as well as some of its accompanying B-sides.

Where they don't work so well is on "In the Bottle" itself. A cover of the Gil Scott-Heron number from his Winter in America album about rampant alcoholism in the black community, it trades in the lush R & B groove and soaring flute of the original in favour of some hard-edge breakbeats (as was the style of the time). Scott-Heron's relaxed, effortless vocal, too, is dropped with preference on an angry rap. Choices made: nuance loses out but I can definitely see opting for a bitter take on the themes contained in this song. 

It's in the production of lead C.O.D.'er Paul A. Rodriguez and boffin Man Parrish where it really comes apart. Aside from having a song about the ill-effects of boozing being lost on your average clubber and/or breakdancer, there's a pointlessness of putting together a song with such an important message only for much of it to be drowned out by this all-you-can-eat buffet of effects. It's as if Rodriguez and Parrish knew all about crafting music to be danced to but hadn't the faintest idea about making pop records for the simple pleasure of listening. 

Cue Tennant and Lowe. While the pair had no more charisma than the likes of Bobby O or John "Jellybean" Benitez (and less so than dance groups like Shalamar, The S.O.S. Band and, yes, even C.O.D.), they weren't as married to the dancefloor as many of the artists who were helping to pave the way for them. As a lonely boy — with no strength, with no joy — Tennant understood the angst-ridden impulse to consume music in solitude. One should be able dance to great pop but one shouldn't be obligated to do so. Only a select number of individuals in the early eighties seemed aware of this state. The struggling songwriting/production team of Stock Aitken Waterman proved up for the challenge and so did a young singer from Michigan who went by the mononym of Madonna. These three would prove to be the future of dance pop and we were all the better for it.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "Great Fire"

When it comes to great songs that somehow missed the charts, there isn't a greater pop injustice than that of "Great Fire". Phil Sutcliffe in Q once described it as "Strawberry Fields Forever meeting Penny Lane halfway" and he's correct. Tennant claims it's the first XTC single "in a long while" but a year or so isn't that long a hiatus, is it? Coming off the uneven and overrated English Settlement album, transitional release Mummer looks ahead to the Industrial Revolution pop-rock of The Big Express, the pastoral beauty of masterpiece Skylarking and even to the acid rock pomp of alter-ego The Dukes of Stratosphear, which is where "Great Fire" fits in. It even acts as something of a look back on Andy Partridge's roots as a Beatles and Beach Boys-obsessed youth. (Bassist Colin Moulding's contributions are a similar rewind albeit more in the direction of his love of progressive rock) Not on his high horse for once, Partridge takes to the subject of arson and uses it to delve into love and his neurotic imagination. Tennant is impressed and I suspect he actually prefers listening to it over "In the Bottle". (He's similarly taken with Wham!'s "Bad Boys" as well as a few others this fortnight: the pop will out) Either that or I'm projecting my own immense adoration of this extraordinary tune on to a songwriter I admire just as much. It's probably the latter if I'm being honest.

(Click here to see my original review)

Bobby O: "I'm So Hot for You"

11 November 1982

"The deejay in the Carnaby Street shop over the road keeps playing it and so do I."
— Neil Tennant

In their follow-up to the landmark single "Blue Monday", New Order flew to New York to record "Confusion" with famed producers Arthur Baker and John Robie. They had no sooner completed the session and Baker was off, a presumably still warm reel-to-reel of his latest recording under his arm. He hopped in a cab which made its way through Manhattan just as a young woman, who for these purposes we'll call Wendy (mostly because she looks like a Wendy, a name which was a lot more common back in the eighties than it is today), got off her job slinging pizza and rushed home to change for a night out (without even acknowledging her very sullen looking parents and younger sister, sitting round a chess set at the dining room table). The members of New Order, meanwhile, had been busy packing up their instruments while sharing a joke with their manager but they would soon be on their way too. They're headed to The Fun House, as are Baker and Wendy. The producer arrived and handed over his latest recording to DJ John "Jellybean" Benitez. Wendy hit the dancefloor and immediately became the star of the show as she got her groove on with some shirtless mustachioed. At the same time, he band posed for some photos and then looked on as Wendy and everyone else at the club got down to their latest single "Confusion".

The above is a description of the plot of video for "Confusion", a likely mythologized account of the song's transition from recording to dance sensation. Quite how it was actually cut and distributed to the clubs is beside the point but two things are significant. First, Baker's priority was getting his latest work to The Fun House, having it pressed and in the shops could wait until the next day. Second, the band, in taking in the dancefloor rave up from the DJ booth, becomes the song's audience and Wendy becomes its performer. In short, the charts don't matter so much and who cares about the artist so long as the kids are dancing.

"I'm So Hot for You" comes from this world of the New York dance clubs. Not unlike the Rockers Revenge/Donnie Calvin team-up that resulted in fellow Tennant-backed Single of the Fortnight "Walking on Sunshine", there was a long line of American-made dance-pop which seemed to stand much more of a chance over in the UK. Producers and DJs led a cozy existence, with some even doubling in both roles. Bobby "O" Orlando was more into playing music and studio wizardry than spinning but he nevertheless understood what would go down in the clubs even if he had no idea and/or no interest in what might work for radio. Disco having long been considered passe, mainstream American radio had little time for this type of thing (for the time being at least) but it had a sufficient enough following in New York to keep the clubs packed. In the UK, however, radio could make a hit record but it didn't always have the power to break one. If the right act was able to play the pop game by doing the rounds of Smash Hits, a variety of talk shows and be up for some miming on Top of the Pops then they always stood a chance with the British.

Still, it didn't exactly catch on in Britain either, in spite of the best efforts of Tennant and the "deejay over the road". Seeing as how there are so many flop records that were anointed SOTF, I've wondered just what was missing that failed to get them on the charts (aside from, of course, the reviewer having absolutely lousy taste). While some lack that commercial spark, a modern sound and/or big time record company money, "I'm So Hot for You" suffers from the kind of anonymity that comes with being the product of the New York dance scene. The vocalist — who I was surprised to discover was Bobby O himself; DJ's sometimes look like lead singers but they don't typically sound like them — is workmanlike but that probably helps not to distract from the production and the superb percussion. Nicking, as Tennant notes, the distinctive synth from The Human League's "Don't You Want Me" gives it a familiarity which may have worked in the clubs ("I think I've heard this one before") but could seem like shoddy pilfering when sitting down to give it a listen.

Britain could have been open to a record like "I'm So Hot for You" but Bobby O was unwilling or unable to put in the promotional time. He had better things to do. He wasn't featured in the Hits beyond Tennant's glowing review and it wasn't until the following year that the pop journalist sought out the mysterious producer/singer while in New York to interview The Police at Madison Square Garden. Bobby O didn't come to them, Tennant had to come to him and he did so with his aspiring pop star's hat on. Though the pop critic-turned-singer along with long-time collaborator Chris Lowe would get their start with him, Bobby Orlando would remain something of a mystery to the pair. In Chris Heath's splendid account of their first tour Literally, someone mentions Bobby O and they ask about him. The individual tells them he's heard he now weighs over three hundred pounds, has found Jesus and is in the process of writing a book about why Darwin was a chump. None of this appears to be true but it says an awful lot about a man who could've been a pop star himself only he couldn't allow himself to do so. You wouldn't expect that having the ability to craft records at a prolific rate would hinder someone's path to stardom but there you have it.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Pale Fountains: "Thank You"

The just about the closest thing to a hit that longtime unsung hero Michael Head ever had. No doubt music critics and his small but loyal following thinks this is "criminal" but I'm confident the rest of us will remain free from prison nonetheless. As Tennant says in a way only the future Pet Shop Boy wit could, it sounds like "one of the duffer tracks on a Cilla Black LP in the 1960s" yet he's somehow also rather fond of it, as am I. Just as Bobby O tweaked with The Human League to get dancers feeling familiar and comfortable, so too does Head by stroking that lovely Bachrach/Gainsbourg sixties' sound to chill out his crowd (or something to that effect). The great Andy Diagram contributes some perfectly-placed trumpet spots which adds to the cool vibes. No one would've noticed it back in '66 but, luckily, a handful more were paying attention sixteen years later. Not enough, mind you, to satisfy critics and fans but if they were being honest they'd admit that they prefer to have The Pale Fountains remain "criminally underrated", whatever the hell that means.

(Click here to see my original review)

Rockers Revenge featuring Donnie Calvin: "Walking on Sunshine"

19 August 1982

"It stands out from the crowd because of the depth and rhythmic density of the arrangement which teases the melody with endless invention. And, leaving all that aside, it's a new dance classic."

— Neil Tennant

Looking over the charts in the eighties, it's interesting to note how often American dance music was able to penetrate the UK Top 40 while failing to garner much interest at home. Some, like The S.O.S. Band and Cameo, enjoyed early success in the States before achieving fame across the pond, while others like techno pioneers Inner City were never able to gain much of a footing at all. Of course they all found success on the R&B and/or Dance Music charts which only goes to show how ghettoised black pop music was at the time. The British, unencumbered by (musical) prejudices, just lumped it all together and let punters go out and vote with the few bob in their pockets.

Written and recorded by Eddy Grant, the original "Walking on Sunshine" probably didn't have much potential for club play. It is a dance number but better suited for a Mardi Gras parade in the middle of Port of Spain than Studio 54. Reggae adjacent, it brims with sunny vibes — even if it's let down by a horribly weedy synth driving the arrangement — and a lighthearted vocal from Grant, who may not have given the sort of powerful throaty performance with which he was often capable but one that suits this lighthearted record nonetheless.

The Arthur Baker-led Rockers Revenge got hold of "Walking on Sunshine" and added some much needed big city sizzle. Yes, the clubs got a hold of it and took it to the top of the Club Play Charts but it's just as easy picturing this blasting out of a boombox on a street corner in the middle of Harlem — assuming, of course, that radio was having anything to do with it, which, at best, was likely only selective. Perhaps no one knew quite how to classify it. I for one love how this seems to be a throwback to a wonderfully catholic New York scene. Rap was beginning to emerge, the DJ's from the disco boom were looking at ways to move on, home computers were making programming and sampling as easy as playing an instrument and there was room for funk, synth-pop, soul and reggae mixed together in such a landscape. The British were keenest to listen but only American producers, remixers, singers and musicians could have forged such an effort.

By now a committed fan of dance music, it's easy to hear this track having a profound affect on Neil Tennant the budding pop star. (Honestly, I had no idea that an offshoot of this blog would be to act as a deep dive into the psyche of the future Pet Shop Boys vocalist as he goes from Smash Hits scribe to stardom but I might as well go with it at this point) Just as important, New York's musical culture was rubbing off on him as well. All he needed was to find an NYC studio boffin of his own.

The UK took to "Walking on Sunshine" nearly as enthusiastically as Tennant but it predictably went nowhere beyond the charts that had been earmarked for African Americans and the clubs. So much so that it would quickly become overshadowed by another pop song with the same name. Katrina & The Waves happened to be white and they sort of looked like a rock band which was evidently all it took to give them a Trans-Atlantic smash in 1985, one that remains well-loved to this day. In terms of quality the two Sunshines are mostly a wash but only one of them had much of a chance of taking the charts by storm in the US. Shame.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Flirts: "Passion"

It's kind of disappointing that Tennant didn't go with this Canadian 12" import instead of Rockers Revenge. Not because I was interested to hear what this obscure all-female Canuck group sounded like that they could have charmed Neil so much (because they weren't Canadian and don't sound one bit like the Martha & The Muffins rip offs I had imagined) but because it's an early Bobby O offering. Yes, the very same NYC studio boffin that I mentioned above. The very same Bobby Orlando who guided Tennant and Lowe to recording some club faves that the public either didn't have the time for or hadn't been exposed to. Neil would soon give a stronger Bobby O record a Single of the Fortnight so I guess there's some justice. Actually, scratch that: I wish Tennant had given his approval to a sub-Muffins Canadian girl band who sang with little emotion and played guitar solos like they were Peter Hook going nuts on a bass. It could've done him some good. Granted, maybe not in the same way same way Bobby O did but still. NYC dance pop, Canadian indie, either way.

(Click here to see my original review)

Wham!: "Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do)"

24 June 1982

"Brilliant words, real excitement, hundreds of ideas, built-in participation and maximum humour."

— Neil Tennant

With New Pop really starting to heat up, it's rather unexpected that some of Britain's major musical talents were nevertheless hiding in plain sight. This review of "Wham Rap!" was published the day before its chief composer, George Michael, turned nineteen. It wouldn't be long before his pop duo Wham! began to take off but it's of no little significance that one of the first people to recognize his musical gifts was a Smash Hits editor and critic named Neil Tennant. Perhaps the two most dominant forces of late-eighties' UK pop and one had released a little-known, little-heard debut single on an obscure label and the other had just given it his thumbs up in a top pop mag.

The future Pet Shop Boy wasn't the only one with praise for Wham!'s first single. While they would become an object of scorn for the much more serious inkies, Adrian Thrills of the NME is pleasantly surprised by them, who he describes as "one of the least jaded groups I have heard all year". He also detects an "uncontrived freshness" about them ("call it naivety if you will") and concludes that they are "one to watch on the side". "The best white rap poor money can buy," exclaims someone in the Melody Maker; a bit of a backhanded compliment but I'll let it slide. (On the other hand, Mike Gardner from the Record Mirror is less impressed, taking up his entire review with a short rant about how much his dislikes rap, especially in the hands of a group like Wham!)

Yet it's Tennant's review that resonates. "I'd be lost in admiration if I could find time to stand still" is the quotation I used the previous time I blogged about "Wham Rap!" but it applies much more this time round. Tennant's love for the song's irresistible dance-pop is evident but I have to wonder if the aspiring pop star in him wasn't also somewhat jealous. As stated above, Michael and Ridgely were both still in their teens and they had already cut such an impressive maiden single. Meanwhile, Tennant was nearly a decade older than the duo. He had spent the bulk of his free time in the seventies writing songs but it was only the previous summer that he met Chris Lowe, his longtime partner in Pet Shop Boys. Writing for Smash Hits may seem like a dream job to a particular contingent of sad types on social media — and I should know being one of them — but the modest compensation and having to interview and write about acts of dubious musical merit might have rubbed this pop genius the wrong way.

This raises an intriguing question: who should he have have felt jealousy towards, someone of genuine ability (like George Michael) or someone lacking in sufficient talents (like Bardo and Bucks Fizz, both also reviewed this fortnight by Tennant who is sympathetic towards both). Considering he admits to (almost) being "lost in admiration", he doesn't seem to be bitter and it could be argued that Michael's British raps triggered him into doing something not dissimilar, albeit in his own deadpanned and restrained style. Nevertheless, it must have gnawed at Tennant that others were thriving while he struggled — and it couldn't have helped that Hits colleagues like Mark Ellen considered his early musical efforts to be hopeless and felt that 'Pet Shop Boys' was a useless name for a band.

For George Michael's part, he may have failed the first time round to secure a hit but getting positive write-ups in Smash Hits, the NME and Melody Maker must have been encouraging. The fact that "Wham Rap!" was a teaser to a rap career that never happened is of little importance. Like other left-leaning acts who would eventually go unashamedly commercial in the coming years (Bananarama, Simply Red, UB-bloody-40), it's easy to overlook the fact that Wham! once had a certain hipster cred about them. With Duran Duran shooting promos in far flung exotic locales and Spandau Ballet dressed so as to get laid as much as humanly possible, is it any wonder that an energetic rap about unemployment and living life to its fullest caught the ear of so many. What's more surprising is that it was the critics who recognized something special well before the public had any similar inkling.

Being as young as they were, Michael and Ridgely may have been expected to head for the dole queue had this pop lark not worked out. Thatcherite Britain may have deemed the nation's millions of unemployed to be a burden but that was irrelevant to the existential hedonism that gives life to "Wham Rap!" Adrian Thrills, in his review mentioned above, admits as an aside that he thought that the "demolition of the work ethic was last year's thing" but Michael was smart to add a "Get stuffed! I'm going to enjoy myself either way" spirit. Knowing what we know now, however, is there more to lines like "I am a man, job or no job, you can't tell me that I'm not" and "I have a good time, with the boys that I meet down on the line..." than what we would have initially guessed?

A future superstar hadn't quite arrived but he was certainly on his way. Another one was lagging a bit he was taking inspiration from many of the bands he was been paid to interview and review — and he was even going to use his position to allow him to forge relationships with people who would help him get to the top. He was just going to have to wait a good deal longer than Wham!, a group who would be all but broken up by the time Pet Shop Boys were ready to hit the charts. Neil Tennant had been astute enough to see a budding pop genius in George Michael but when was someone going to recognize it in him?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Brotherhood of Man: "Lightning Flash"

I've already mentioned Bucks Fizz and Bardo but Brotherhood of Man are yet another act present who add to the Eurovision flavour of this issue's singles review. (David Essex never had a Eurovision entry? Really?) ABBA were busy divorcing and about to go on a thirty-eight year hiatus but their influence on British pop was never greater than at this time when the two girls-two boys group dynamic was rapidly becoming the norm would quickly be replaced by the charismatic singer-surly keyboardist synth-pop template. (Gee, who could I be referring to?) To be precise, Brotherhood of Man (I can think of at least two things wrong with their name) had long been this way and likely would've had much the same career path had those Swedes never bothered to leave Scandinavia. I like this a little more than Tennant but I can give or take it at the end of the day. It could be suggested they were capable of better but is that really so?

(Click here to see my original review)

The Associates: "Party Fears Two"

4 March 1982

"The song is excellent with an Abba-style piano tune (at least I think it's a piano) breaking up the verses, rolling drums and a lyric which starts in the shower and proceeds to a party."

— Neil Tennant

I must say it's rather nice to be blogging about Neil Tennant as a Smash Hits critic after having just posted the sixth and possibly final Single of the Fortnight for the Pet Shop Boys. As I have written before, being a valued member of the Hits staff and then a pop star of more than some "note", he was bound to factor into the story of this top pop mag. Having pumped out his fair share of synthy classics, it's cool to see how he rates a synth-pop number of old. Well, sort of.

The Associates have often been cited as purveyors of synth pop along with the likes of The Human League, Soft Cell, Blancmange, Yazoo, Depeche Mode, New Order, Erasure and, yes, ver Pet Shops. I've said it before and I'm not alone. Simon Price in his liner notes to the essential Sparks compilation Past Tense lists them as part of the trajectory of synthy duos that came along in the aftermath of the late-seventies/early-eighties' success of the Maels (I don't have my copy of it handy but, in addition to many of the groups mentioned above, he may also have brought up Eurythmics and Tears for Fears). They appear as a pair on many of their album and singles covers (though that's not the case in their videos).

The duo aspect is difficult to ignore but I'm not so sure it's a synth-pop dynamic so much as it is the classic charismatic vocalist with moody instrumentalist pairing at work. Yes, the Maels seemed to operate in this fashion and so, too, did Tennant and Lowe and Lennox and Stewart and Alf and Clarke but this type of relationship existed outside the fairlight synths and Linn drum machines. Morrissey and Marr remain arguably the definitive singer-instrumentalist pairing and they did indie rock jangle. What's more, they were part of a quartet, The Smiths. As for The Associates, when Johnny Black inquired about how many members they had, he was only given the vaguest of answers. "Somewhere between two and nine people," was singer Billy McKenzie's best guess.

Synth-pop or not, duo or nonet, "Party Fears Two" is so outstanding that McKenzie and Rankine would struggle to better it. They came close, particularly with much of the Sulk album that would be released two months' later, but even otherwise solid singles like "Club Country" and "18 Carat Love Affair" pale in comparison. Their early indie work hints at something special to come, while their later, post-Rankine material manages to sound like McKenzie was having considerable difficulty recapturing what they once fleetingly had. To describe them as a 'flash in the pan' smacks of being derogatory but it's a label that fits.

In any case, who cares if they never came close because "Party Fears Two" is simply a perfect pop song. Though frequently knocked for his vocal histrionics (Fred Dellar, in an otherwise positive review of Sulk, says they "mar and jar") McKenzie's singing suits their material. Anyone who is so over-dramatic in real life would of course be a nightmare to deal with but these people frequently make the best pop stars (no wonder he and Morrissey got along so well, at least for a time). I have to think that Tennant is thinking of "Dancing Queen" when he brings up the "Abba-style piano" but the keys twinkle even more delightfully here. (Having trusted what I saw in the video, I credited the "fetching" Martha Ladly with the piano part but it seems it was Rankine's all along; perhaps they just wanted her there so they could have someone the camera loved just as much as McKenzie)

Sadly, we are now living in a world in which both of the core Associates are no longer with us. Luckily, they remain fondly remembered. McKenzie was said to have been the inspiration for The Smiths' "William, It Was Really Nothing" (which prompted an eventual reply song "Stephen, You're Really Something" recorded during a brief McKenzie-Rankine reunion in 1993). Rankie would go on to lecture at Stow College in Glasgow where he would play a vital role in the formation of Belle & Sebastian. Most of all, they put together "Party Fears Two", a number that borrowed from elements of the seventies but managed to point the way forward for many in the eighties. Simon Reynolds called them the "great should-have-beens of British pop" but at least they were all that this one time.

Rest in Power, Billy and Alan.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Shakatak: "Nightbirds"

Shakatak have released thirty-three albums? Seriously? I don't think this English jazz-funk group has ever been dubbed an institution but if anyone deserves the label, it's them. Chances are they've recorded at least a couple dozen songs that rival "Nightbirds" and it behooves me to seek them out pronto. I wonder if their only other Top 10 hit "Down on the Street" measures up to this sleek and effortless bit of wonderment. Or what about near-miss hit "Feels Like the Right Time" from when they were wet behind the ears? Or the much more recent "All Around the World Tonight"? So much for me to explore. And, hey, if the remainder of their vast discography happens to be a disappointment, then at least they'll always have the incomparable "Nightbirds" which would end up being their very own "Party Fears Two", right down to the identical chart peak. "Me, I love it," Tennant concludes. You and me both, Neil.

(Click here to see my original review)

Sylvester: "Rock the Box"

8 November 1984

"His knowledge of the geography of the United Kingdom is shown up, however, as he assures us that people are rocking the box "all over Great Britain, from Liverpool to Wales". A distance, if I'm not mistaken, of not much more than 20 miles."

— Neil Tennant

Do the best pop stars have crap taste in music? Okay, that's a bit much but do they listen to stuff that's good enough to inspire them but not so good that it shows up their own creativity? Blues, three-chord rock, punk, disco, hip hop: the simplest forms of music seem to have a knack for inspiring loads of great musicians. If you're only ever listening to complex jazz fusion and prog rock and the like, you're liable to become an enthusiast - and even something of a talented muso but is it going to get you making recording sublime pop records? Or take power pop: I'm sure members of The Raspberries and Cheap Trick and Teenage Fanclub have or had fantastic record collections but it didn't stop any of them from making tedious, unadventuresome music of their own. This is Neil Tennant's eighth (and final) go at reviewing the singles and it's clear that his choice picks aren't close to the music that he'd very soon be making. Naturally, the five electro-dance cuts he picked have more than a little in common with what he and longtime partner Chris Lowe would make a highly successful career out of but they lack his wit, charm and pop touches; two of the three pop songs, however, lack the sonic thrills of classic Pet Shop Boys. (The one number not included here would be Billy Idol's which really does go to show you how pop music genius can sometimes find favour with a crap record) 

That said, "Rock the Box" is one of Tennant's better SOTF, probably the finest since The Associates' superb "Party Fears Two". As he says, Sylvester - along with writers/producers Ken Kessie and Morey Goldstein - crams absolutely everything in here. To an eighties dance music fanatic like Tennant it probably would have sounded like he had "nicked every electro cliché in the box" but thirty-five years on (and, to be sure, to someone who hasn't enjoyed dance music for nearly as long) it's stupendous, a roaring melange of swift scratching, synthy beeps and boops and effects that could be samples but for the fact that it's 1984 and they could very well have been coming up with this stuff from scratch. It isn't even as banal as Tennant thinks: had this record been made near the end of the decade we would have been greeted with that Funky Drummer sample, a more measured, far less subtle bit of scratching and those whoops and yeahs you used to hear on every single with house music aspirations. It would have sounded, in other words, like every club record of the age; "Rock the Box" gobbles up every idea and still sounds like nothing else out there.

This being a club favourite, however, it falls short lyrically, the words clearly taking a backseat to everything else going on even if Sylvester sings it pretty well. Concerned with how vital it is to rock ver box, there's not much of a story here but, then, why should there be one? As for Tennant's observation about old Syl's lack of "knowledge of the geography of the United Kingdom", it ought to be considered in light of just how little he manages to credit the vast majority of the citizens of his homeland. While "all around Great Britain, from Liverpool to Wales" may be unintentionally funny, the twenty or so miles covered is vast compared to an earlier line which regales of "all around Manhattan, from Brooklyn to the Bronx", an acknowledgement that while Britain had taken to him, the majority of the US wasn't as keen. A nice thought crediting the UK as a whole even if it didn't help the single which only just managed to dent the lower reaches of the charts. (Having said that, it must've sold like mad around Chester)

Finally, this is where Tennant bows out from the singles review chores. Perhaps not coincidentally, we're about to enter a more rockist and indie period in this section of the magazine - a trend which wouldn't begin to right itself until, also not entirely coincidentally, the rise of the Pet Shop Boys. Gone forever are the New York club records by the likes of Bobby O, Rockers Revenge and C.O.D. because their chief backer was busy cutting his own singles. Pop music's gain would be music criticism's loss: a trade off well worth making in spite of the price paid.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Blue Nile: "Stay"

Pioneers of beautiful melancholic pop, taking forever to release albums and using the word 'Stay' as a song title a good ten years before everyone else did, The Blue Nile astonished critics and budding musicians (the ones with good taste in music so they may not have made decent records themselves) while the public remained largely numb to their charms. Resolutely as minimalist as they would ever be, it also happens to be far breezier than much of their noted work, anticipating a track like "Sentimental Man" by a dozen years. Given their minuscule discography and perfectionist tendencies, this could have been a typical part of their sound had they been able to churn out releases at the normal pop star rate. Tennant foresees a possible hit and what a world that would have been.

Billy Idol: "Eyes Without a Face"

7 June 1984

"Although he doesn't have a great voice and the words are utter drivel, somehow he sounds affectingly sincere."

— Neil Tennant

So, we've come to a key SOTF, one I had not relished writing about. Not because I dislike the "artist" in question — even though I am by no means a fan — but because he doesn't inspire much in me and, crucially, I am going to have to deal with him again. And again. And again. Where other groups and singers I have covered or will cover on multiple occasions have given me confidence that there's enough material there for several entries, I feel at a loss for words when it comes to Billy Idol. Prior to getting this blog going — as a matter of fact, before I'd even cooked up the idea for this blog — I compiled a list of SOTF and, apart from the odd omission of a prominent act here and there, the biggest surprise I had was discovering just how much the Hits critics liked them some Billy.

Four entries on Billy Idol will be coming your way in the months and years ahead, approximately four more than I would have anticipated. Had there been just the one, I would have shovelled out some nonsense about being a punk who could never move on and, thus, made the biggest move possible by relocating from London to New York, where his naff commitment to such a passe genre and lifestyle would mark him out as "authentic", admired by Americans for never selling out. A second single and I would have been reduced to one of those annoyingly contrary pieces about how he "actually was the biggest sell out of all by remaining tied to his punk roots" or some other supposedly clever bit of analysis. A third would have had me begging the Smash Hits staff to stop torturing me. But it's four and — assuming I don't pack it in by the time we get to July, 2022 — I have to spread the very little I have to say about the former William Broad out as lightly as possible.

All this Idol did give me one idea that I toyed with over the last few days which I promptly abandoned this morning. Instead of critique, how about I compose a series of short stories based very loosely around his life and songs. It would allow me the freedom to take such a ridiculous pop star and put him into some ridiculous situations. Here is a brief synopsis for each of the Just Billiam stories:

Part 1: Billiam Proves Them Wrong
A charming English good-for-nothing has been described by audiences and critics as "naff" once too often and he decides to show 'em by writing and recording a song that expresses his feelings, though he quickly comes to realise that he has no idea how to go about doing so. Then he meets Maxine who he quickly falls for but she's turned off by his shallowness. Can he prove her wrong too?

Part 2: Billiam Gets Another Chance
Billiam's songs never quite hit the mark right away but they all find a way of eventually catching on. Meanwhile, Billiam's love life is similarly beset by disastrous first encounters that he winds up turning around into wild, passionate affairs. Then he meets Layla who seems immune to all of his tricks and is reluctant to give him that second chance he thrives on. Can he turn yet another flop into a huge hit?

Part 3: Billiam Woos America
Americans love Billiam. They're buying his records en masse, clamouring to see him in concert and wallpapering their bedrooms with posters of him. Then he meets Deborah who has recently emigrated to the US from Britain and is very much like the pop music fans of their shared homeland: very reluctant to take to him, unable to take him seriously and only able to handle him in very small doses. Can he woo her like he did an entire nation?

Part 4: Billiam Begins to Falter
Billiam is aware that the world around him is changing and so, too, is the music scene. He is starting to drift creatively and so he decides to record a cover version of a beloved song from his youth to get his juices flowing. Then he meets Nancy, a real LA woman if there ever was one and a veteran rock groupie who is now trying to settle down. Can he make his mark on a pair of classics before it's too late?

So, that's what you would have had in store but perhaps they're best left here, an idea set aside so that I may try to be a proper critic. But not today: probably next week and the week after and so on and maybe even next April when we're due to come encounter him again. I promise to get my critical chops going. Either that or I'll churn out the short story Billiam Gets Another Chance.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Frankie Goes to Hollywood: "Two Tribes"

Part 5: Billiam Say Relax
A new sensation has hit the charts but they're far removed from the punk ethos that drives Billiam and he is unimpressed with these lads flaunting themselves. Then he meets Joanne who has had her life changed by this groundbreaking quintet. She is convinced they are the next wave of political and sexual liberation and their ecstatic disco pop isn't so far off from Billiam's beloved punk rock. Can he develop an appreciation for this radical outfit so that he might score?

Barbara Mason: "Another Man"

2 February 1984

"And then Ms Mason's strong but silky voice starts to croon the unfortunate tale of how she's realised her man isn't quite the man she thought he was."

— Neil Tennant

"I'm really getting sick of 12" singles", complains Neil Tennant in a review of Nik Kershaw's breakthrough (and, it would turn out, signature) hit "Wouldn't It Be Good". "I've only got the 12" version of this and it seems to drone on forever". Hear, hear, Neil. I've already gone into detail about my contempt for pointless extended mixes of pop songs and this is a prime example. The 7" mix isn't brilliant — it's the sort of song that always sounds better when I hum the tune to myself than when I actually listen to the bloody thing — and, clocking in as it does at four and a half minutes, already a bit too long but hardly the sort of thing that can be improved upon with a longer running time. If anything, its seven minutes only makes it seem slower and more meandering and, yes, more droning.

Now, apart from my surprise that a dance music fanatic as Tennant would express such derision for the medium of extended mixes, this observation seems especially surprising in light of his chosen SOTF. Where Kershaw's record works even less well in its longer form, Barbara Mason's "Another Man" is a whole other beast in its 12" girth. The single edit kicks in her vocal far too early and leaves out a pretty vital spoken-word part towards the end. Given that Tennant first describes the "tough, monotonous, electronic bassline" followed by "some delicious chords" it seems likely that he had the long version to go by. Handy, too, for working out the song's dark core.

Tennant seems to know what "Another Man" is really about but its meaning was initially lost on myself and virtually everyone who left a comment on YouTube. I originally thought that our Barb's had enough of the philandering loser she's been seeing and so she's gone off and found herself a new guy who totally won't mess her around this time. Turns out, this other man in her life is the one her boyfriend's been fooling around with on the down low. Not the sort of subject matter eighties soul music typically dealt with but one that deserved to be tackled.

As a sequel to Mason's 1981 single "She's Got the Papers (But I Got the Man)", the once smug protagonist who snatched a guy a away from a rival is having to eat her words with the humbling experience of catching him hand-in-hand with another man down Market Street ("and you all know where Market Street is"). A lot of innuendo is present, some of which are very a much a product of the times ("I had gone out one day and bought me a very, very sexy dress / And opened up my closet and it had disappeared": just the fact that a pop song goes to such lengths to suggest a link between homosexuality and cross-dressing is indicative of something, right?; she also suggests that his suddenly high-pitched voice might be a defect of some kind). But Barb's humiliation isn't without humour ("And I passed him on the steps one day / And he was switichin' more than I was") Not exactly an endorsement of same-sex tolerance but probably a realistic account of what goes on in the mind of a woman whose husband is out searching for some rough trade. 

Good on Barbara Mason and her studio cohorts to leave me feeling empathetic though not quite sympathetic to her situation. Even once you've managed to work out what it's about, it isn't quite the record you thought it was.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Nena: "99 Red Balloons"

Speaking of not quite getting the point of a song, a friend once informed me that this record is about condoms but maybe he was just struck by the come hither looks of Nena singer Nena. Either way it's all very 1984: instead of alluding to the AIDS crisis we have the threat of nuclear war. Most seem to prefer the original sung in the group's native German but I've always been partial to the English translation that topped both the British and Canadian charts. In truth, the two act independently of one another in a way that "Sie Liebt Dich" and "La Reina del Baile" could never exist apart from "She Loves You" and "Dancing Queen". Perhaps the less literal, more poetic translation helps. The Germans, for one, would never have confused it for a song about contraception.

C.O.D.: "In the Bottle"

12 May 1983

"Mr. Hip Hop himself, Man Parrish, had a hand in producing it and, needless to say, Dave Rimmer's had it on import for weeks."

— Neil Tennant

As has been discussed on here before, Neil Tennant was busy getting his musical aspirations in order while also toiling away the Hits. (I was going to say he was doing so in his space time but I wouldn't be terribly surprised if the two tasks crossed over quite a bit) Pop dominance wasn't the forefront of his mind as this early stage, however; what he and partner Chris Lowe envisioned was to cut a single in the States that would only be available on import in the shops in Britain. With the balance of power in the hands of the big record labels at the expense of the indies and the spread of HMV, Tower Records and the Virgin Megastores in the nineties, imported music became easier to get but it still retained a certain cachet, if only to get a shrink-wrapped compact disc with an IMPORT sticker emblazoned on it. Nevertheless, it's not quite the same  as poking around in a dusty old shop and coming across a record that somehow worked its way over the Atlantic or ordering the latest 12" dance sensation from an obscure enthusiast label (or so I hear, having never done so myself).

Sigh, another Tennant review, another piece all about the Pet Shop Boys. Readers of this blog will doubtless be wondering if I have nothing else of note to say about eighties' dance music and they're not wrong. If anything, this project has only upped my appreciation of ver Pet Shops as a pair who managed to cram the best bits of disco, hip-hop and synth-pop into their sound while deftly avoiding the pitfalls of their some of their forefathers. In short, what got them out of the specialty import shops and into every Our Price, Boots, WH Smith's and Woolworth's. In terms of song structure, no one influenced them more than Bobby O; as far as sampled sound effects go, we may look no further than C.O.D. Indeed, the first fifty-or-so seconds of "In the Bottle" practically sound like an awkward instrumental megamix of songs from the first PSB album Please as well as some of its accompanying B-sides.

Where they don't work so well is on "In the Bottle" itself. A cover of the Gil Scott-Heron number from his Winter in America album about rampant alcoholism in the black community, it trades in the lush R & B groove and soaring flute of the original in favour of some hard-edge breakbeats (as was the style of the time). Scott-Heron's relaxed, effortless vocal, too, is dropped with preference on an angry rap. Choices made: nuance loses out but I can definitely see opting for a bitter take on this song. 

It's in the production of lead C.O.D.'er Paul A. Rodriguez and boffin Man Parrish where it comes apart. Aside from having a song about the ill-effects of boozing being lost on your average clubber and/or breakdancer, there's a pointlessness of putting together a song with such an important message only for much of it to be drowned out by this all-you-can-eat buffet of effects. It's as if Rodriguez and Parrish knew all about crafting music to be danced to but hadn't the faintest idea about making pop records. Cue Tennant and Lowe.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Aztec Camera: "Walk Out to Winter"

Aztec Camera shared a lot in common with fellow eccentrically-named groups Prefab Sprout and Scritti Politti. All three transitioned from D.I.Y. indie darlings into purveyors of smooth sophisti-pop and were led by talent figures who gradually took charge to the extent that their "bands" became glorified solo projects. "Walk Out to Winter" was never as appropriately bleak as the snowy wastes of the title imply and it seems on this single version Roddy Frame decided to go full-on breezy mode. Some fantastic janggly acoustic guitar playing closes out a song that impressed Tennant by being their first attempt at pop. Too bad C.O.D. weren't up to it too.

Bobby O: "I'm So Hot for You"

11 November 1982

"The deejay in the Carnaby Street shop over the road keeps playing it and so do I."
— Neil Tennant

In their follow-up to the landmark single "Blue Monday", New Order flew to New York to record "Confusion" with famed producers Arthur Baker and John Robie. They had no sooner completed the session and Baker was off, a presumably still warm reel-to-reel of his latest recording under his arm. He hopped in a cab which made its way through Manhattan just as a young woman (who we'll call Wendy) got off her job slinging pizza and rushed home to change for a night out (without even acknowledging her very sullen looking parents and younger sister, sitting round a chess set at the dining room table). The members of New Order, meanwhile, have been busy packing up their instruments and joking around with their manager but they would soon be on their way too. They're headed to The Fun House, as are Baker and Wendy. The producer arrives and hands over his latest recording to DJ John "Jellybean" Benitez. Wendy hits the dancefloor and is immediately the star of the show as she gets her groove on with some shirtless mustachioed guys. The band pose for some photos and then look on as Wendy and everyone else at the club gets down to their newest single.

The above is a description of the video for "Confusion", a perhaps mythologized account of the song's transition from recording to dance sensation. Quite how it was actually cut and distributed to the clubs is beside the point but two things are significant. First, Baker's priority was getting his latest work to The Fun House, having it pressed and in the shops could wait. Second, the band, in taking in the dancefloor rave up from the DJ booth, becomes the song's audience and Wendy becomes the performer. In short, the charts don't matter so much and who cares about the artist so long as the kids are dancing.

"I'm So Hot for You" comes from this world of the New York dance clubs. This week's entry is a bit of a continuation of what I wrote back in October, which just so happened to be the last NY dance record to cop a SOTF, as well as Neil Tennant's most recent previous turn in the reviewer's chair. Having made the point that American dance pop had been marginalized at home while embraced by the British (and, indeed, the rest of Europe), I have to wonder if that's simply how they wanted it to be. Producers and DJs led a cozy existence, with some even doubling in both roles. Bobby "O" Orlando was more into playing music and studio wizardry than spinning but he nevertheless understood what would go down in the clubs even if he had no idea and/or no interest in what might work for radio. Disco having long been considered passe, mainstream American radio had little time for this type of thing but it had a sufficient enough following in New York to keep the clubs packed.

Still, it didn't exactly catch on in Britain either, in spite of the best efforts of Tennant and the deejay over the road. Seeing as how there are so many flop records that were anointed SOTF, I've wondered just what was missing that failed to get them on the charts (aside from, of course, the reviewer having absolutely lousy taste). While some lack that commercial spark, a modern sound and/or big time record company money, "I'm So Hot for You" suffers from the kind of anonymity that comes with being the product of the New York dance scene. The vocalist — who may or may not be Bobby O himself — is workmanlike but that probably helps not to distract from the production and the superb percussion. Nicking, as Tennant notes, the distinctive synth from The Human League's "Don't You Want Me" gives it a familiarity which may have worked in the clubs ("I think I've heard this one before") but could seem like shoddy pilfering when sitting down to give it a listen.

Bobby O's finely-tuned Hi-NRG sound was becoming a major influence on Tennant, who continued to press on with his musical ambitions when not penning record reviews and taking the mickey out of hard rock bands at his day job at ver Hits. All he had to do now was get himself over to New York and try to track him down. Good thing he had his position at a top pop mag in order to do so.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Human League: "Mirror Man"

While Bobby O was busy pinching synth bits from Sheffield's finest, ver League were, in turn, mining Motown for the follow-up to their world-wide smash "Don't You Want Me", a sign that they were trying to move on just as others were embracing them. Consequently it lacks the sonic futurism of their terrific crop of '81 singles and is the first indication that they would never reach those heights again. Leader Phil Oakey would eventually admit that it was inspired by Adam Ant but you have to wonder if he had his own success in mind when he penned these lyrics about losing touch with fans. (He evidently took heed as he remains by all accounts an absolutely smashing bloke) "Relax, everyone," Tennant writes. "The new League single's alright." Good man, Neil: reassure ver kids that Phil, Joanne, Susann and the other three are still doing decent work while keeping expectations in check. Not half-bad but no "Love Action" either.

Rockers Revenge featuring Donnie Calvin: "Walking on Sunshine"

19 August 1982

"It stands out from the crowd because of the depth and rhythmic density of the arrangement which teases the melody with endless invention. And, leaving all that aside, it's a new dance classic."

— Neil Tennant

Looking over the charts in the eighties, it's interesting to note how often American dance music was able to penetrate the UK Top 40 yet failed to garner much interest at home. Some, like The S.O.S. Band and Cameo, enjoyed early success in the States before achieving fame across the pond, while others like techno pioneers Inner City were never able to gain much of a footing at all. Of course they all found fame on the R&B and/or Dance Music charts which only goes to show how ghettoised black pop music was at the time. The British, unencumbered by (musical) prejudices, just lumped it all together and let punters go out and vote with the few bob in their pockets.

Written and recorded by Eddy Grant, the original "Walking on Sunshine" probably didn't have much potential for club play. It is a dance number but better suited for a Mardi Gras parade in the middle of Port of Spain than Studio 54. Reggae adjacent, it brims were sunny vibes — even if it's let down by a horribly weedy synth driving the arrangement — and a lighthearted vocal from Grant, who may not give the sort of powerful throaty performance with which he's capable but one that suits the record nonetheless.

The Arthur Baker-led Rockers Revenge got hold of "Walking on Sunshine" and added some much needed big city sizzle. Yes, the clubs got a hold of it and took it to the top of the Club Play Charts but it's just as easy picturing this blasting out of a boombox on a street corner in the middle of Harlem — assuming, of course, that radio was having anything to do with it. Perhaps no one quite knew how to classify it. I for one love how this seems to be a throwback to a wonderfully catholic New York scene. Rap was beginning to emerge, the DJ's from the disco boom were looking at ways to move on, home computers were making programming and sampling as easy as playing an instrument and there was room for funk, synth-pop, soul and reggae mixed together in such a landscape.

By now a committed fan of dance music, it's easy to hear this track having a profound affect on Neil Tennant the budding pop star. (Honestly, I had no idea that an offshoot of this blog would be to act as a deep dive into the psyche of the future Pet Shop Boys vocalist as he goes from Smash Hits scribe to stardom but I might as well go with it at this point) Just as important, New York's musical culture was rubbing off on him as well. All he needed was to find an NYC studio boffin of his own.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Raincoats: "Running Away"

While we're on the topic of cover versions that top the originals, here's indie faves - because of course they're indie: how could you call yourself 'The Raincoats' and not be indie? - The Raincoats running with their take Sly & The Family Stone's "Running Away", from their massive There's a Riot Goin' On album. Once again, it's updated with a fresh coat of paint and all the better for it. Charming and stately in the crack hands of Sly and co., it becomes irrepressible and snotty when done by the London foursome. The childish naughtiness of running away from home in the original stands in marked contrast to the comical teenage apathy of taking off and not giving a shit. Quite which one you prefer depends on your tastes — though I can't conceive of anyone opting for the lousy Paul Haig version — but the fantastic trumpet of Harry Becker puts this one over the top for me.

Wham!: "Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do)"

24 June 1982

"I'd be lost in admiration if I could find time to stand still."

— Neil Tennant

No one was to know it at the time but a pop music phenomenon and a major talent was quietly establishing itself in the summer of 1982. Wham! were the last of British pop's eighties big four to have a number one hit but the first to enjoy the modest status of a SOTF from ver Hits. While none were overnight sensations, Wham! had the distinct advantage of George Michael's astounding talent to help them avoid the creative wilderness that hampered the development of contemporaries Culture Club, Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet.

While few were listening this early on, Wham! did have Neil Tennant on their side (who would later pen a sort-of tribute to the moody George Michael). While the pop music obsessive in him knew what a magnificent romp "Wham Rap!" is, wearing his critic's hat may have cottoned him on fast to Michael's considerable abilities and the budding pop star inside must have been jealous that these pretty boy nineteen-year-old's were able to cut something so irresistible and so on point at such an early stage.

Up until this point, songs about unemployment in Thatcher's Britain veered towards statements of hopelessness and hostility. The Clash's "Career Opportunities", recorded two years prior to Thatcher's rise to power, examines a wasteland of few job prospects out there for young people. XTC's "Making Plans for Nigel", while humourous in its own right, takes on clueless parents and government placement schemes assuming that their charges are indeed "happy in [their] work". "Wham Rap!" was an altogether different proposition. Thatcherism didn't simply cause thousands to go out of work but created a culture of permanent joblessness and Wham! were the first to capture this resignation while marrying it to a quintessentially eighties hedonism. Forget about getting a job, don't bother even if you manage land one, just sign on to the dole, collect benefits and enjoy your life. 

Wham! may have been first on the pop scene to make a virtue of unemployment but there were others out there with something similar in mind. The now mostly forgotten comedy Shelley was about a thirty something well-educated layabout with no desire to find work. (By the mid-eighties, this contented-on-the-dole mentality was even yuppified on the comedy-soap series Bread) In real life, meanwhile, a young and talented writer named Geoff Dyer was effortlessly making the transition from Oxford undergrad to the dole queue. ("If Oxford had given me a taste for idleness, living on the dole in Brixton refined it still further"; see his illuminating essay "On the Roof" for more on his period of being part of the "aristocracy of welfare dependence")

The very idea of George Michael kicking it in rap mode may seem laughable and it is. It's not unlike one of those shapeless, impromptu raps that adolescents in the nineties would conjure up for just for the hell of it (my own attempt was from all the way back in 1991 when I penned the immortal "Joys of Shopping", complete with "hilarious" verses straight out of a Will Smith lark). His music wouldn't be joyous for much longer so it's likely he never contemplated rapping again but it's a commendable one-off. (A white British pop act wouldn't be able to pull off rap until Neil Tennant tried his hand at it some three years later)

In researching this week's post I decided to google search 'songs about unemployment'. "Well, that was a waste of time," I said to myself five minutes after doing so. Of course there is a place for hard scrabble, all-American tunes about desperate individuals struggling to put food on the table but it comes from a world of the Dust Bowl and Steinbeck novels. Michael and best mate Andrew Ridgely both had their fill of plates of egg and chips but were determined to make life on the dole be the party that it always should've been.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Joe Jackson: "Real Men"

While George Michael was busy standing up for his (unemployed) manhood, Joe Jackson was questioning the very core of masculinity with "Real Men". Once a sickly youth who doubtless took no pleasure in mucking about in a rugby scrum, he was now ensconced in a New York gay subculture in the midst of enduring marginalisation, beatings and the growing AIDS epidemic and puts forth the theory that maybe these are the real men — if, that is, I'm reading it right. My song deciphering skills may not but up to much but I sure do appreciate Jackson's seriously good vocal performance, effortlessly spitting out bile and tugging at the heart all at once. Note: I'm seriously considering writing a parody of this written from the perspective of psychologist/YouTube superstar Jordan Peterson and his supposed crisis of masculinity. Anyone who can do good Kermit the Frog impersonation is welcome to get in touch with me.