Prefab Sprout: "Don't Sing"

19 January 1984

"The time changes and chord sequences remind me of Aztec Camera and this can only mean a) a hit; b) a severe rise in credibility; or c) hopefully both."

— Martyn Ware

Patrick sat at his desk and rubbed his eyes. He was up late, much later than usual. He had been engrossed in tales of clergymen in Central and South America and what they got up to so far from the prying eyes of the Vatican. Some drank, some killed, some had sex — and quite a few did the trifecta. Patrick had never been tempted by such things and his only vice had been a bottle of coca-cola every afternoon. He didn't pity these men of the cloth who had strayed but neither did he envy them: he just wondered how they could have possibly existed in such a state.

But he found himself admiring many of these rogue priests. Yes, these bishops and Monsignors had sinned but a great many refused to benefit themselves financially from their situation nor would they toe the line of the French and Spanish and Portuguese colonial masters they were expected to defer to. Priests served their communities and if a little dodgy moonshine, some blood spilled at the expense invading hordes and the odd bit of rumpo during confessional was the price to pay then so be it.

Patrick never went on to become vicar and likely never harboured a sneaking regard for Catholic clergymen in the new world (save for one). He gave up the priesthood in order to follow his ambitions in the world of pop. Patrick McAloon became Paddy McAloon: his music tastes remained catholic and so, too, did his material.

In a recent exchange on Twitter on how overused and tired the term 'underrated' has become in assessing music, pop critic and Hits alum David Hepworth mentioned that "some people still say Nick Drake is underrated. I think they mean he didn't get in the charts". (I'm not at liberty to provide a link but if you happen to seek it out on your own, please note the not-at-all unhelpful comment below from a certain "underrated" blogger) As fans, we tend to have favourites who we feel have been overlooked, either commercially or critically (if not both), which sort of puts them into an unwinnable scenario: we gripe when they aren't bigger but then we bemoan that they've sold out when they attain some success. 

Prefab Sprout wasn't a group I grew up with, keenly followed over the years and gave a voice to my awkward adolescence. Rather, they were the kind of thing I would dabble in as I entered adulthood. I had always had a thing for British songwriters with less juvenile interests and adult themes: my avowed admiration for Neil Tennant's marvellous observations led on to an interest in the tender, grotesque tales of Paul Heaton and then on to Billy Bragg and Morrissey and Paul Weller and Elvis Costello and Andy Partridge. McAloon's material was the next step but I never had a Prefab Sprout phase to obsess over. I'd give them a listen for a bit, move on and come back to them eventually: never fully immersed but never sick and tired either.

Understanding Prefab Sprout is something a lot of people have to work on over the years. Smash Hits didn't seem to take to them from the off (in a previous review of their debut single "Lions in My Own Garden (Exit Someone)", Dave Rimmer remarks that it "sounds like a speeded up Aztec Camera"; it seems that comparisons of McAloon's talents to ver Camera's Roddy Frame were fairly commonplace during this early stage) with jabs at their silly name dogging them for quite some time. Heaven 17's Martyn Ware is by all accounts a clever chap who does well in his turn in the reviewer's chair but he doesn't offer up much by way of analysis of his chosen SOTF, mentioning passing similarities to The Associates ("but without Billy's wonderful voice", he notes) and, again, Aztec Camera. And I'm no better. Those jangly northern bands could easily be lumped together and it's not a slight on any of them.

Baring in mind that this was just the third single from ver Sprouts (and likely the first to get much in the way of wide distribution outside of the group's Tyneside stronghold), few would have had any idea where "Don't Sing" was coming from, assuming they cared enough to find out. Any concept of understanding Paddy McAloon's genius would have been minuscule at the time. Underrated? Hardly. Within a year many fans and hacks would be singing the praises of this unique little one-off band from Newcastle with acclaim far outstripping sales. Misunderstood? For sure. I, for one, am still misunderstanding their brilliance to this day.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Violent Femmes: "Gone Daddy Gone"

You're seventeen and you still haven't snogged a girl, much less touched her goodies. Your best friend may have done (he never got round to spilling the details but who wants to hear about other people having sex when you're not getting any?) and even if he hasn't there are seemingly streets of girls more than happy to do just that to him and these are the very same birds who don't want to have anything to do with you. His girlfriend isn't your type but you can kinda see what he sees in her and, anyway, you wouldn't say no, would you? You've never had anything to do with (The) Violent Femmes before but they're her favourite band and suddenly he likes them and now they're a part of your life too. You feel like you ought to hate them and you tell him they're all right but you like them an awful lot more than you let on even though they're a group for girls who have boyfriends who'll never be you. But, as I say, she's not your type anyway so what difference does it make?