Paul Young: "Love of the Common People"

24 November 1983

"...it's hardly any surprise to discover that the panel unanimously voted it "a whopper"."

— Jools Holland

Allow me, before I begin, to drop in a pair of aphorisms I've written especially for this week's post — "in a world in which everyone is a critic, who critiques the critics?" and "sometimes you bite the panel and sometimes the panel bites you". I read "national" "treasure" Jools Holland's singles review guest spot and I've decided to assemble my very own panel of four very real, in no way conjured up in my imagination members of the public to go through them with me and provide their thoughts. We've decided to go through it subject by subject.

~~~~~

"Crazy Over You" vs. "Love of the Common People": The Single of the Fortnight Wars

So, technically, "Love of the Common People" isn't this issue's SOTF. True, it earned 'Whopper' status from Holland's panel and more praise than any other records up for consideration but someone decided to shove their own single on, then bashed a panelist for rightly pointing out a conflict of interest and unilaterally declared it to be "Single Of The Week" (sic.) "...if not The Decade". I'm glad at least one person thought highly of "Crazy Over You". I don't care about the ethics of choosing your own single — we'll eventually get to a couple examples of exactly that on here — but there's something a bit off about using your position as guest reviewer to get your own record on. Plus, the panel didn't have anything to contribute (either that or Holland didn't wish to include whatever they may have had to say). Finally, it's probable that this was all just a big joke: I mean, really, not even Jools Holland could have liked this lousy record, right? My panel agree that "Crazy Over You" sucks but they don't care about my justifications for disqualifying it from being SOTF. They're quite the jolly gang, this lot.

Jeff Lynne Ain't Fat and Neither Is His Production

Perhaps Holland couldn't bring himself to say anything positive about the latest from Electric Light Orchestra because it's not up to much, not even ELO by numbers. So, he goes off on a long-winded thing about the fat production but that we shouldn't confuse that with Jeff Lynn's (sic.) weight or something. Helpful. The panel had never stopped to consider the great songwriter's body-mass index before but clearly aren't interested in a deeper-dive. Fumbling for quite what to say, I mention that I'd like to form a jazz Electric Light Orchestra/Emerson, Lake & Palmer tribute act called 'Electric Lake Quintet' (because, you know, ELO, ELP, ELQ!) but they remain unmoved. Where did I dig up these lifeless dullards?

Nope, Not at All Condescending

"Love of the Common People"? Yeah, best not talk down to the lower orders, treat 'em with dignity and respect.

"...of Channel 4's The Tube"?

I'm surprised to see this brief descriptive below His Nibs' name since (a) he's bloody Jools Holland and surely everyone knows who he is and always has and (b) has he always been known as a TV presenter? Was there ever a time in which he was simply a pianist with Squeeze and, er, Jools Holland's Magnificent Boogie Woogie Summer Fun Band? Everyone on the panel shrugs. They all like him but one woman complains that it's been "far too long since he's had Simply Red on" which is a fair point.

Poverty

There are great songs about economic hardship. Elvis Presley's "In the Ghetto" and Stevie Wonder's "Living for the City" are but two. Phil Collins' "Another Day in Paradise" is another except it isn't much cop at all. But what these two good songs and a bad one share is that poverty is a societal ill that needs dealing with. Solutions may differ (Wonder's stance seems to be that it's ingrained, Collins takes a gentler, if quite naive, approach that we should all try to be just a bit more considerate towards the destitute) but at least they're offering something. "Love of the Common People", not so much. Hard work, prayer, resignation, stoicism: this is what the common folk are all about. Don't try to help them, they don't need it and didn't ask for it. The panel look on askance and I'm pretty sure they think I'm an elitist. Bloody proles.

Short Shrift for ver Picks

"A very pretty song sung by this devastating vocal group": Holland's well thought-out feelings on The Flying Pickets' "Only You" in full. His beloved panel apparently weren't needed for this one. Holland either didn't know or didn't feel it necessary to bring up that it was a cover of Yazoo's excellent original nor that it was destined to be that year's Christmas number one. (He didn't even give us his odds for what Mrs. Thatcher would make of it) My panel agree with Holland's assessment ("spot on," one chap states) and not one of them seems to believe me when I bring up the Pickets' socialism and support for striking miners. But I'm the elitist.

You're the Voice

1983 was Paul Young's year (and he would have some more, culminating with a performance at Live Aid that won the hearts of a lot of housewives the world over) and his reviews of the time all praise his sturdy vocal chops — although that's hardly a surprise here given the lame material he was working with. And, yeah, there is something to his voice: soulful, affecting, just a bit sandpappery for gravitas. Doesn't overdo it either. I tell the panel about my background as a bit of a Youngarian: when I was thirteen and not particularly interested in being hip, I quite liked him, his version of "Oh Girl" getting to number one on my own version of the chart. The panel nod along kind of indifferently, which does sum up Young fandom. I ask them to name their favourite Paul Young song and they mention "Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home)" and "Everytime You Go Away" but I'm surprised to hear that they don't rate "Senza una donna", his '91 hit with Italian singer Zucchero (he could have been as big as Madonna, you know). One fellow chimes in with praise for his work with Mike + The Mechanics but I point out that he's talking about a different Paul Young. I suspect the panel think I'm a know-it-all.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Kirsty MacColl: "Terry"

Uh, What's Going on in That Video?

Our Kirsty is a bubbly ginger with a killer smile living in the fifties with a geeky boyfriend —who we'll call 'Bernard' — who treats her poorly and doesn't deserve her. Tall, handsome, "tough as Marlon Brando" Terry comes along, pushes Bernard out of the way and sweeps her off her feet. Bernard comes knocking at her door in tears but she casts him aside and rides off into the sunset with good, old Terry. True love. They wind up at a club with Terr playing a gig with his band before Bernard crashes the stage with a wild guitar solo. In the ensuing melee, Bernard knocks out Terry and, suddenly, he and Kirsty are back together. Oh wait, is Terry actually Bernard and Bernard Terry? Maybe all guys are half Terry, half Bernard. (Mind blown!) The panel isn't exactly riveted by my analysis so I pour us all whiskys and we have a laugh at Ade Edmondson's performance as Terry/Bernard and we long for the days when Kirsty MacColl was still alive to make the pop scene and our lives just that much better.

Simple Minds: "Waterfront"

10 November 1983

"An iron fist in a velvet glove."

— Mark Steels

I have a pair of anecdotes from my adolescence to share this week. First, I used to aspire to being a pop star. I began plotting this career path while living in England. A year's worth of Smash Hits issues and Top of the Pops episodes gave me the idea that fronting my own group was the thing for me. We returned to Canada and these goals were put on hold as my then friends weren't similarly interested. I eventually did join a group and I tried my hand at singing poorly, playing the bass guitar almost adequately and writing some embarrassing lyrics. Songwriting was probably the one area I might have had some talent for but I was never inclined to collaborate with someone of musical competence and tended to give up on ideas too rapidly. During the lovely summer of 1990, I had a couple of tunes floating around in my head (the moody, soulful "Underground" and the techno rave-up "The Flight") both of which were abandoned due to my inability to make anything of them beyond vague a melody or a chorus without much of a song behind it. If only someone had told me...

Starting off in the post-punk scene, Simple Minds were one of those acts who didn't sell many records but everyone who did ended up going into music journalism. Their early string of albums from Real to Real Cacophony to New Gold Dream (81-82-83-84) are essential to everyone who likes to think about pop music, even if enjoying their work is an altogether different matter. Like most of their contemporaries who found themselves similarly trapped in a critically acclaimed bubble, they wisely began giving it all a big rethink with big eighties drums, choruses with which to punch the air and so much bombast. (But while their sound changed, my disregard for them has been a constant. From post-punkers to rock gods and further down to well-intentioned do-gooders with their creative eyes taken off the ball, one element of ver Minds that has been a constant is their dour, irony-free earnestness) Sparkle in the Rain, the accompanying album that would follow the present single a few months later, isn't my sort of thing but at least I can appreciate that they finally seemed content to allow their work to be listened to and not just furrowed over. Which is for the best really since "Waterfront" doesn't do much on the contemplation front.

"Get in, get out of the rain / I'm gonna move on up to the waterfront": yeah, it sounds pretty good, my thirteen-year-old self would've been dead chuffed to have come up with an opener like that. Of course, I would never have been able to expound upon it but that's precisely the point. It's easy to imagine Jim Kerr and his fellow Minds being impressed with what they'd come up with and, after struggling for a good while on some kind of song story, just resigning themselves to repetition — but the kind of repetition that works wonders in the arenas and stadiums they were beginning to fill (but less so in the tiny Glasgow clubs in which they and a whole generation of budding music journalists cut their teeth). Musically, too, it's kept simple with a bass line so comically easy that even this humble blogger could work it out. Mark Steels is blown away by "guitar chords that will take your head off" and "haunting keyboard lines" and he's not wrong but they're hardly challenging parts.

And now for the second anecdote from my youth. In the midst of joining a band and dabbling in songwriting, I took it upon myself to expand my musical interests somewhat. Figuring that rock music was important and was still attaching itself to worthy causes, I decided that the Greenpeace: Rainbow Warriors compilation was just what I needed. Well, at least I felt good about supporting a charity I respect. One of the cassettes was of poor quality with frequent dropouts and the music I was able to listen to I could only get through the once due to boredom (I couldn't imagine wanting to hear John Farnham's "The Voice" again and it was one of the reasons I bought the bloody thing!). Rainbow Warriors was promptly filed away in a junk box in my closet in favour of Pet Shop Boys' Behaviour and The Beautiful South's Choke. I'm only relating such a forgettable part of my music collection because the second tape kicked off with a live version of "Waterfront". A passionate performance, it goes over a bomb even if the Minds sacrificed what little subtly the original had. Better yet, its presence on a Greenpeace album meant that fans could connect it to oceanic pollution or rising sea levels or acid rain: a meaningless song suddenly meant something.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Julian Cope: "Sunshine Playroom"

A jam-packed fortnight of singles with the likes of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax", The Stones' "Undercover of the Night", The Smiths' "This Charming Man", The Style Council's "A Solid Bond in Your Heart", The Thompson Twins' "Hold Me Now" and Yes' "Owner of a Lonely Heart" all up for consideration, so at least Simple Minds didn't grab Single of the Fortnight by default. To opt, then, for the recently solo, increasingly irrelevant Julian Cope might seem to be the ultimate in contrarian buggery but for the fact that "Sunshine Playroom" is the most thrilling of the lot — and by some distance at that. A psychedelic/progressive bit of quintessentially Copeian madness, it abruptly darts between various genres, a aural complexity which contrasts with a lyrical simplicity not unlike that of "Waterfront". Stupidly wonderful but surprisingly sophisticated, no one could have merged Arthur Lee, Keith Emerson and Iggy Pop all into one figure and still managed to be so original. All hail Julian Cope!

ABC: "That Was Then but This Is Now"

27 October 1983

"Fast and furious, the song still manages to retain a stylish feeling of grandeur that is the hallmark of ABC's work — even though Fry tries to rhyme "grumble" with "apple crumble"!"

— Peter Martin

This is our third encounter with ABC on this blog as they join Kim Wilde in the Single of the Fortnight hat trick club. But while our Kim reeled off a string of star singles on the bounce, ver "C"'s trio are more spread out. "Tears Are Not Enough" showcased Fry and co. just starting to get their feet wet, their funk-pop tightly honed but with a sound lacking the production sheen that would soon take them over the top. "All of My Heart" captures them in all their imperial grandness, all orchestral pomp and dramatic pop flair. "That Was Then but This Is Now" is where the lush production begins to get dumped in favour of a more rugged, even abrasive, approach.

A new year (even though '83 was nearly up by then), a new line-up, a new direction, yet so much promise dashed. Beauty Stab, ABC's follow-up to their million-selling, critically-fawned-upon debut The Lexicon of Love, is now considered to be one of the most sudden and inexplicable falls from grace in the history of pop music. Simon Reynolds even lumped it in with Fleetwood Mac's Tusk, The Clash's Sandinista! and The Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique in terms of "great career-sabotage LP's". But even here Beauty Stab stands alone. Those other albums may have disappointed commercially but all have received some degree of critical reappraisal since (I am far from alone in considering Tusk to be superior to the Mac's blockbuster predecessor Rumours) and in at least one instance helped pave the way for better things to come (without Paul's Boutique there is no Check Your Head). Beauty Stab didn't sell, was panned by the critics, didn't do anything for ABC's career in the long run and hasn't been bothered with by anyone for over thirty-five years.

"That Was Then but This Is Now" was the lead-up single and, struggling to get into the Top 20 when Top 5 hits had been the expectation just a year earlier, bore the brunt of ABC's new-found unpopularity. Yet, it needn't have been so bleak. Certainly Peter Martin senses a change in the air but it's welcome one, being "one of the most exciting things they've done". And, as the quote up top states, the song manages to hang on to the group's stately tone while still pushing forward. Beauty Stab wouldn't be released for a couple more weeks so few were to know the even more radically rock 'n' roll tunes on offer. It's possible the public were tiring of ABC anyway since "S.O.S", the follow-up single, only got a token Top 40 position before promptly disappearing (which happened to be, in the words of Andrew Collins in a Beauty Stab reissue review in Q, even less convincing as a conciliatory gesture towards their former sound).

In retrospect, it's a shame that they didn't stay the course. I like to think they were attempting a reverse Roxy Music, having started off doing classy, stylish pop in the vein of late-seventies hits "Dance Away" and "Angel Eyes" and had now moved on to the more rockist lounge act that produced "Love Is the Drug" and "Both Ends Burning", numbers which "That Was Then..." clearly borrow from (even Martin Fry's vocalisms sound like sub-Bryan Ferry). It's fascinating to think what ABC might have done once they'd got to the extraordinary low-budget art rock of "Virginia Plain" and "Editions of You" that is the basis of Roxy's zenith but this, alas, never came to pass — and that's assuming they ever had such a career trajectory in mind anyway, which they surely hadn't.

With its all-too on the nose title, "That Was Then but This Is Now" signals a way forward, albeit one that they would abruptly abandon. In 2016, Fry finally released The Lexicon of Love II, aka That Was Then but This Is Also Then.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Michael John: "Love Will Tear Us Apart"
Joy Division: "Love Will Tear Us Apart"

An original and a cover. Not, mind you, a cover of the original; Martin rightly points out that somehow-not-a-household-name Michael John's version is based on Paul Young's cover of Joy Division's remarkable 1980 single. For all we know, John was as unfamiliar with Joy Division as everyone else is with Michael John. Martin describes it as a "ghastly pub-rock effort that is truly laughable" but to these ears it sounds more like tenth-rate eighties soul mixed with some ludicrous stadium rock guitar work. (But he's right about it being laughable) Young's reading isn't a whole lot better but at least he seems to have some understanding of the song's very dark heart. Can anyone pull off a vanilla "Love Will Tear Us Apart"? It seems unlikely. As for Joy Division's original, I have no idea why Factory figured it had to be reissued at this time but if they wanted to spitefully tank Michael John's chart fortunes by reminding everyone of just what an amazing song this can be in the right hands then it was well worth it.

The Cure: "The Lovecats"

13 October 1983

"I'm solid — but solid — gone, man. You will be too."

— Ian Birch

In a write-up of her great 1995 career rethink Wrecking Ball, Stuart Maconie makes the case that Emmylou Harris can never not be a country singer, regardless of the material or how it's presented. In common with Ray Charles (who was apparently never not soul), she may dabble in other genres but only ends up countrifying them because she is Emmylou Harris. I can't recall if Maconie elaborated but it may well be best suited to be one of those pet theories music lovers carry around with them no matter what the evidence says. It feels kind of true even if it isn't. Just like when people describe The Cure, who were never not goth.

Coming off of their trilogy of Teutonic bleakness LP's Seventeen Seconds, Faith and Pornography, the group was in chaos with members departing and substance abuse taking hold. Looking to change things up, Robert Smith went about searching for new members and looked towards synth-pop for inspiration. The resulting stand-alone singles, "Let's Go to Bed" and "The Walk", are admirable stabs at something new while not quite managing to shake the goth off. With a brand new stable foursome in place (at least for the time being, this is The Cure we're talking about), Smith had all he needed to go balls-out pop.

Or is it jazz-pop? Or twee indie? (Or do they all fall under the umbrella of goth: jazz-goth? Twee goth? Pop-goth?) Labels aside, this is The Cure at their lightest. While the group was never short of hooks and riffs to plant in the mind, "The Lovecats" is about as addictive as they'd ever sound. Yet, it's very much the sound of Robert Smith in his element. The piano twinkles in sinister fashion, cats poke around the room and the whole thing is not unlike the cartoon-Gothic universe that Tim Burton would create with his superb run of films from Beetlejuice through to The Nightmare Before Christmas. Childlike horror — no wonder this was the first Cure song that ver kids embraced.

"The Lovecats" is where casuals and Cure agnostics go but it seems to be one that committed fans steer clear of. Journalist Zoe Williams considers it "the song that would make you think "Cure" if you don't particularly like the Cure, just as "Creep" makes you think Radiohead even if you don't particularly like them". (She then goes on to describe it as a "song that 29-year-olds now snog to when they go to those theme clubs where you dress up like Britney Spears" while happily reporting that "they aren't short of authentic, hardcore fans") Significantly, Smith and whoever else may happen to currently be members of The Cure recently left it out of their five-song set after Trent Reznor inducted them into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (which consisted of early indie/goth numbers and a pair of US hits, this being very much the American vision of The Cure, aside from "Friday I'm in Love" which they also neglected to play). This being their first entry into the UK top 10, it was bound to alienate some who'd been there from the days when they were just another home counties post-punk outfit but something would be lost if it were fully expunged from their oeuvre. (I must admit to building a strawman here since no one I know of has ever suggested such a thing, even if there are some who wish they'd never switched course from their goth sound)

Robert Smith looks and sounds the part — even when caressing an adorable kitten — and can never not be goth. Even if he happens to be churning out something as charming and inspired as this little goth-jazz-twee pop gem.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Duran Duran: "Union of the Snake"

Having been picking up steam throughout 1981, '82 and '83, the Duranies were quickly becoming the biggest group in the world and "Union of the Snake" looked set to officially mark their ascendancy. It did well but not quite well enough and the coronation had to be delayed a few months. But what did they expect releasing an obvious third or even fourth single as the kick off to the long-awaited Seven and the Ragged Tiger? I mean, the lead singer couldn't sing very well and many of their records were a mess (often a very catchy mess but a mess nonetheless) but Duran Duran records were never supposed to be so ordinary. It's as if they were beginning to figure out what they were doing and the Chic-meets-Roxy Music sound was never so deliberate. The first big hit from Simon, Nick and the Taylors that no one counts as their fave Duranie song, the luster was bound to come off someday. In any event, they still had that world's biggest group thing to look forward to.

Depeche Mode: "Love in Itself • 2"

29 September 1983

"It's a very moody production and, hang on, did I hear someone playing guitar in there? And some (gasp) real piano? Guys are you OK...? Guys...?"

— Lenny Henry

Dear Mr. Henry,

Yeah, I know how you feel, mate. These singles aren't much fun, are they? Even the good ones. And, hey, I choose to do this blog every bloody week, you got roped in by Mark Ellen when you had far better things to do like Red Wedge tours and being at the forefront of alternative comedy and being a presence in the culture even when you were on hiatus from the telly. I respect your decision to bring in some chums to give you a hand, so much so that I'm taking a page from your "book" as they return to aid this humble blogger.

~~~~~

So, Depeche Mode: what do we reckon?

Delbert Wilkins: They're kinda uptight. They need to calm it down, let the tunes surround them, inhabit them. They're forcing it.

Winston: They're deep, ain't they? They got some heavy ideas.

Delbert: Shut up, Winston! That's rubbish. They're trying way too hard to sound like they've got something profound to say.

I know, right? When I was in high school I knew people who would print DM lyrics in their school exercise books with quotations from "Blasphemous Rumours" as some kind of motivational tool. I liked them, I had a well-worn cassette of Violator but most of their songs didn't mean a whole lot to me. Especially after "Walking in My Shoes" came out which was such a blatant re-write of "World in My Eyes": you can't have a whole lot to say if you have to keep saying the same thing.

Elfreda, the Radio 1 tealady: They look like lovely lads, don't they? I'm not sure I like those leather straps the blond one's wearing; if he's not careful, he could be sporting some of that horrible fetish wear before long.

Not to worry, miss, they really got into Armani suits soon after this.

Elfreda: What sort of horns are those three playing?

Delbert: They're not horns. It's a synth.

Elfreda: A what?

Winston: A synthesizer. A keyboard that has been computer programmed to...

Delbert: Shut up, Winston! It's a sound they created to mimic horns.

Elfreda: Why on earth would they do that? Can't they just play them?

Apparently not. They do a pretty bang up job pretending to though, don't they? Speaking of which, Lenny seemed pleasantly surprised about the real guitar and piano but what if they, too, were produced artificially? Does it take anything away from the song?

Julie: No, of course not. They're so deliciously talented!

Simon: Don't mind her. She fancies both the singer and him in the black shirt with the ginger hair.

Also not a fan of the leather straps, eh? Well, let's get this back on track. Lyrically what do you make of it?

Delbert: The singer makes the words believable. He doesn't put gut-wrenching emotion into his singing which gives extra gravitas to the song.

Winston: He didn't write the song, did he? Maybe that helps him keep his distance. If you're too close to your material, then...

Delbert: Shut up, Winston! The words are all right. What do you have against them?

Me? Nothing. I just can't take them seriously. They use big words which makes everyone think they really have something important to say. And they repeat themselves.

Delbert: Sounds like they're not the only ones guilty of that.

Fair enough. But they're just a pop group like any other. What makes them so special?

Delbert: So, is that why we're here today? To explain Depeche Mode's appeal to you? Well, all I can tell you is that the song's all right. Is that enough?

Sure, no worries. Thanks for helping out, Delbert. Anyone else?

Winston: Depeche Mode hail from Basildon and the new town aesthetic really informs their bleak, industrial dynamic with a passionless wilderness...

Delbert: Shut up, Winston!

So, in closing, what would each of you have picked for Single of the Fortnight?

Delbert: Herbie Hancock.

Winston: MJ.

Elfreda: Oh, that Bruce Foxton's a nice lad, isn't he?

Julie: Bucks Fizz.

Simon: Don't mind her. She fancies David Van Day.

And you, Simon?

Simon: XTC. Jules hasn't fancied any of them since the drummer left.

Is everything okay at home, Si?

~~~~~

Dear Mr. Henry,

Well, that was a laugh. Perhaps I shouldn't have loaded them up on drinks before we sat down for this session. I can't believe how much sherry Elfreda drank.

Best wishes,

Paul

~~~~~             

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Herbie Hancock: "Autodrive"

Here's a jazz great. Was part of Miles Davis' second great quintet and then went on to release some outstanding fusion albums in the seventies. He was still trying to be current well into the eighties as well which is where "Autodrive" fits in. I like that he got the Famous People Players to help with the video.

Delbert: Well hard tune. Well hard tune.

Yeah, you said that to Lenny thirty-six years ago. A lot of repeating going on. Anything other thoughts, Del?

Delbert: Hard then, hard today, hard tomorrow. HARD!

Kind of a waste of his considerable talents, wouldn't you say? Or are you sticking with hard? Never mind. The use of electro special effects was one that helped revitalise Hancock's career but at the price of his innate improvisational skills which barely get a look in here. The tune is present and correct and swims through the mind but the nagging feeling that he's lost his way somewhat diminishes...

Delbert: Shut up, Paul!