Pink Industry: Forty Five

18 February 1982

"More of this sort of thing please."
— Red Starr

One of the unforeseen pleasures of doing this blog is that it has turned me on to some brilliant records that I would never have otherwise encountered. I expected to develop a heightened appreciation for the likes of Dexys Midnight Runners and The Human League but I failed to consider the lesser knowns who have fallen into my lap. From the jazz art snot of Ludus to the ghastly but beautiful deconstructionism of the Portsmouth Sinfonia, it's clear that the eighties produced a vast array of sonically deranged geniuses who never got their due — and we've only just begun.

One of musicology's most longstanding clichés is that while few bought The Velvet Underground's debut album, everyone who did so ended up forming bands. Now I don't doubt the truthfulness of this claim — even if I've never seen any survey results that confirm it — but I have to wonder if it's as remarkable an outcome as one might think. Didn't plenty of hippies and rednecks end up putting together country rock outfits when they first heard The Flying Burrito Brothers? How many literate but disaffected young people took up poetry and confrontational performance art upon listening to Patti Smith's Horses? Weren't there an entire generation of overcoat-sporting Scots that invested in fairlight synthesisers due to The Blue Nile? Smallish, cult-like acts inspire further, even smaller, even cultier groups and so on into obscurist infinity.

Locked into this chain of influence at one point or another resides Pink Industry. Their musical heroes — the ones I can hear at any rate — weren't especially well known nor were any of the groups that came along after them. It's fine that I can sit here in 2018 and see so much of indie lush industrialists Cocteau Twins in this music — and even that's just speculation considering that Liz Fraser and Robin Guthrie were likely busy ironing out their own sound while the Pinks were foisting this upon us but certainly the two groups were on to much the same audio alchemy — but naturally no one was to know who would be listening and who would be forming bands as a result back in '82. 

Red Starr prefers side B opener "Don't Let Go" for its Velvets influence and vocalist Jayne Casey's wailing but I'm partial to "Is This the End" which commences the flip side. A haunting piece, it's a curious choice to kick off an E.P. and not just because of the title. It has the feel of a track that brings an album to a bleak conclusion, not unlike "Decades" on Joy Division's Closer or "The Overload" on Talking Heads' masterpiece Remain in Light. Cinematic, powerful and rich, its sheer gorgeousness is only slightly dampened by the knotty sense that few could have been listening beyond John Peel's devoted following — and what does it matter given that they all promptly went out and formed bands. For its part, "Don't Let Go" falls into similar territory. I don't hear Lou Reed and John Cale so much as those vaguely industrial groups fronted by wistful female singers doing what would eventually be called dream pop. (And, yes, Cocteau Twins are precisely who I'm thinking of)

So, just where am I going with all of this? Nowhere really. Forty Five is a remarkable work that probably was influenced by the giants of underground music and hopefully influenced plenty of figures going forward. Few ended up buying it but those who did would have quit smiling, messed up their hair and messed about with their mates over cheap instruments. What more could you want from the periphery?

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

ABBA: "Head over Heels"

"Oh God," Starr writes, his eyes doubtless rolling as he churned out this bit of copy, "number one for weeks and weeks." Surely his mood improved when he discovered just how wrong his prediction was. "Head over Heels" was the end of the Swedes' grip over the British charts, taking just a nominal spot in the Top 30. As Starr says, it's just another decent ABBA song in a world of much better ABBA songs and the punters agreed. They might have done better, however, to flip the record over as "The Visitors" sees them firing on all cylinders for just about the last time. Good time party bands tend to keep their melancholy hidden but this epic song of aliens being baffled by the world's madness and repression might have peaked the interest of a public that no longer had much use for them.

Diana Ross: "Mirror Mirror"

4 February 1982

"The 12" version has a lot going on, and may be worth paying more for."
— Charlie Gillett

The extended mix. Nothing says ruining your favourite song like doubling its length with an off-putting intro and a disconcerting, needless breakdown in the middle. I've never been that devoted a collector that I've sought out 12'' singles by Pet Shop Boys or The Beautiful South but I've encountered enough to know how utterly dire they could be. The Stock Aitken Waterman compilation The Hit Factory Vol. 2 that I got for Christmas one year sold itself on having exclusive extended versions of Kylie Minogue and Rick Astley hits (the long version of Jason Donovan's already ghastly "Nothing Can Divide Us" was especially awful, with a crass changeover from its tacked on intro to the proper song at 1:39). But at least these SAW numbers were intended for a Friday night comprehensive school disco or someplace else where people might theoretically be getting down. Rock 12'' mixes, on the other hand, are pathetic attempts to bring studio boffinery into three-chord wonderland without any plausible raison d'être.

Such was my ignorance of the extended mix that I assumed it was something that had been around forever — or at least as long as the 12" single had been a part of the format racket — and my aversion towards them went so far as to delay my Chic phase by a few months. Looking to get a good compilation by the influential New York disco-funk pioneers, I was put off by the lengthy versions of "Everybody Dance" and "Good Times". When I finally did relent with the superb The Definitive Groove Collection I discovered that these tunes were best consumed in their full on form. "Everybody Dance" is neutered in its 7" brevity; the twelve incher, by contrast, amounts to an invitation for everyone to set the two dollar highballs they'd been nursing down and get to the task of flooding the dancefloor. A "Good Times" that pushes on towards the seven minute mark keeps those good times going; edited down to radio length and you're just getting just the faintest glimpse of them.

Perhaps with this in mind, Charlie Gillett makes his recommendation that punters ought to invest in the longer mix of Diana Ross' "Mirror Mirror". The once and forever Supreme may have known a thing or two about how to make a party purr having recently come off a career resurrection with "Upside Down" and "I'm Coming Out", done in cahoots with Chic leaders Bernard Edwards and Nile Rogers. I spent some time playing the two versions back-to-back, hoping to detect just how much more is going on in the 12" mix but I didn't hear anything discernible. While cropping a song down to size ought to be about including everything that ought to be there — if the famous 'cantina' section of The Beach Boys' "Heroes and Villains" had been good enough it would've been part of the single instead of resigned to bootleg hell — adding on should be an extension of what's already there. I get the feeling that "Mirror Mirror" is supposed to hit the six minute mark but shorn of a third of its length leaves nothing out without wearing out its welcome.

If it manages well enough as a production feat — pulled off by Ross herself who must have learned a lot from Edwards and Rogers as well as Motown's expert studio technicians — it doesn't hold up as an actual song. Taking the familiar "mirror, mirror on the wall..." trope as its theme, it devolves into Ross' gentleman beau having turned her life "into a paperback novel". From there, the subject matter is all about the various chapters of her life that have revolved around this anonymous rogue. Ross, always a surprisingly underrated vocalist for such a successful singer, turns in a sweetly accusatory performance but she can't hide the fact that the material just doesn't measure up, something that extended mixes and single edits couldn't hope to hide.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

China Crisis: "African and White"

One of many alliterative acts of the time, China Crisis were soon to have a brief but respectable run of chart singles but not quite yet. Doing for the remix what "Mirror Mirror" is to the 12'', there is little that differentiates this from its reissue a few months hence. As Gillett says, there are lots of cool musical ideas here but I have to quibble with his assertion that the vocals are all doom and gloom. Dealing with the situation in South Africa, the sentiments are simple but genuine enough. Combining some African elements with a new wave feel, this is a stellar performance, the kind of thing that Talking Heads would have been proud to have put out. A definite shoulda SOTF.

Depeche Mode: "See You"

21 January 1982

"If it doesn't make Number One, I'll write and complain."

— Mark Ellen

Letters

Smash Hits Letters

52-55 Carnaby Street

London W1V 1PF

£5 record token for the letter that delights us most.

~~~~~

LOUISE, WON'T you smile at me
Like you did in R.E.?

Miss Shaw spoke with scorn

And she looked quite forlorn

As she spoke of us writing our own private creed

(Mistaking me, perhaps, for the Venerable Bede),

You shot me a glance

And my heart did a dance

But ever since then you just look away

Even when we get to the end of the day.

You act as if you simply don't care

Of my heart, you just aren't aware

And that's why, Louise, I just have to speak

Because my will grows ever so weak

I swear I won't touch

I just like you so much.

And now all I want is to see you again,

Though I know not where or when.

Maybe it will be over half term break

When you're out for a stroll 'round Appleby Lake

Then you'll come round to mine on Galveston Road

And we'll play Altered Images and Depeche Mode

Maybe you'll even smile at me

Like you did in R.E.

Graham D., Cheltenham

You sure your Louise doesn't prefer other bands? Have a five quid record token to invest in something she actually likes. Failing that, your purchase could inspire yet more verse. Just some helpful advice from one lonely git to another.

~~~~~

WELL DONE, Mark Ellen. You had The Jam, Soft Cell, the Spands, even bloody Bow Wow Wow to choose from and you had to go for those talentless turds Depeche Mode. I'll admit that "Just Can't Get Enough" was nice but all the pop flash they had departed along with Vince Clarke. I can't believe you'd praise something so obviously dull and without merit. If they're light years ahead then I'd hate to see what's in the future. Thankfully they've had their last hit and we won't be hearing from them again. Mark my words.

Richard, Skegness

We'll hold you to that. Send us a crate of Skegness Rock to the address above if the Deps do manage to eek out another hit.

~~~~~

WELL DONE: Depeche Mode made the cover of the latest issue and you print a glowing review of their latest single, the wondrous "See You". I suppose I ought to be grateful that Smash Hits has finally decided to pay attention to Basildon's finest but I can't help but be overwhelmed by a sense of anticlimax. What took you so long?

Depeche Mode have been slowly gaining momentum over the past year and it has been disappointing that Smash Hits has mostly ignored them in favour of Haircut One Hundred and Toyah. What do they have that the Mode doesn't? Do third form students jot down Toyah lyrics in the margins of their notebooks in the middle of geography lessons? Do the Haircuts inspire a dreamscape of art and brilliant people and philosophy? I think not.

Hail Depeche Mode, the future of pop!

Nancy, Braintree

We imagine that Toyah and the Haircuts inspire a love of pop music, as do Depeche Mode. But our apologies nonetheless. The next time synth-noodlers from an English New Town emerge from the shadows we'll be right on them.

~~~~~

DID YOU know that if you rearrange the letters of 'Depeche Mode' you get 'Deedee chop me'?

Simon, Arundel

So what? Kim Wilde is an anagram for 'wide milk' and Duran Duran spells 'And and ru ru'. We're currently working on one for Dexys Midnight Runners. Suggestions to the address above.

~~~~~

I NOTICE that Mark Ellen still hasn't written in to complain that his beloved "See You" failed to hit Number One as he so confidently predicted it would. Does it rankle that the supposedly tune-free "Town Called Malice" has been dominating the charts instead? He couldn't even be bothered to mention its nearly as wonderful double A-side companion "Precious". If Depeche Mode (or any other group for that matter) want to get to the top of the charts, they'd be wise to put out a single when Paul, Bruce and Rick are otherwise occupied. Mr. Ellen should know better than to doubt The Jam.
Barry, Scunthorpe

Our boy Mark did indeed compose a letter complaint as promised but he sent it off to the folks who compile the charts. This space is reserved for the gripes of our beloved readers, our writers may do so elsewhere.

Haircut One Hundred: "Love Plus One"

7 January 1982

"The band who'll have us all slipping into chunky knits and brogues before you can say Captain Mark Phillips."
— Ian Birch

It could be as a result of a post-Christmas lull but the singles review section is noticeably trimmer than in previous issues of the Hits. Whereas hapless, overworked critics like David Hepworth may have had as many as two dozen forty-fives to deal with — and that's not even considering discs that may have been passed over from the round-up due to either issues of space or sheer indifference — the paltry eleven records featured here were of such little burden to Ian Birch that they share space on the same page with the albums. Picking a favourite shouldn't have been much of a challenge.

Now, I'd say that he picked the wrong record as SOTF but opting for Haircut One Hundred wasn't a huge howler. The Cuts seem to have been a band that a lot of people quickly became high on. They'd only had one hit prior to this — "Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)" which was a cop pick a few entries ago — but it was enough to get them a very respectable second runner-up for Most Promising New Act for 1982 in the Smash Hits Reader's Poll. Recency bias, perhaps, but that shouldn't gainsay just how impressive they must have seemed. Quite why they impressed so many is another matter.

Putting oneself back in the early eighties, it must have been refreshing to hear an up and coming act that didn't seem absolutely drenched in punk. Up until now, virtually every British group to have arisen in the previous half-decade had the whiff of punk (or its offshoots) about them in one way or another. In many cases it had little to do with sound: the aggressive ska of The Specials might have emerged independent of Johnny Rotten and Joe Strummer and Rat Scabies but their presentation and live energy was more Kingston-upon-Thames than Kingston Town. Dexys were always going to be soul revivalists but punk only added another layer of grime.

But the Haircuts seemed to exist independent of all that. Leader Nick Heyward's obvious first love was The Beatles — particularly Paul McCartney, especially in light of how much this sounds like "Listen to What the Man Said". While such a grounding resulted in gorgeous melodies and some outstanding musical inventiveness, it also meant he could fall for a lack of meaning and this is where "Love Plus One" falters. We're entering a period of some lyrical mumbo jumbo that was a far cry from either the thoughtful early seventies singer-songwriters or the direct and to the point punks. Much as Birch likes this — and, to be sure, he's not wrong — he concludes his review by expressing puzzlement at the lyrics. The lines "Where do we go from here / Is it down to the lake I fear" make him wonder if they've been watching too many late night horror movies on TV (This, I suppose, being the time when serial killer flicks set in teen summer camps were the big thing). But I think even that's giving Heyward far too much credit for something I don't imagine he put all that much thought into. And then there's the issue of the missing comma: perhaps the line is actually "Is it down to the lake, I fear"; is he scared of this body of water or worried that that's the only place left to go? Either way, what the hell does any of it mean?

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "Senses Working Overtime"

The one Birch should have gone with. (With an honourable mention to Joan Armatrading's typically beautifully sung "No Love" which I was tempted to write about in this space until I realised that I had absolutely nothing to say about it other than it being pretty good) Andy Partridge was all about putting meaning in his songwriting, even if it didn't happen to mean much to many punters. Wondering if they were ever going to get the due he — and the press in general — believed they were due, Birch was likely pleasantly surprised that "Senses Working Overtime" got them into the Top Ten. Putting everything they have into it, Partridge and co. perform as if this is their last chance to reach the masses. Sounding as if he's going over the edge becomes much more poignant when you later discover that that's exactly what would soon happen. (Aside from the limpness of her voice and the absurd production, a big part of why Mandy Moore's cover doesn't work is that she had no desire to enact a nervous breakdown on disc, for good or bad) The whole band chip in with some fantastic playing, particularly from drummer Terry Chambers, a striking reminder of how missed he's soon become. They payed a heavy price for this burst of success and they'd never be the same.