— Lesley White
Over the last year and a half that this blog has been going, I've come across some very pleasant surprises. It was nice, for example, to discover that The Police were occasionally able to put their considerable talents together into something stirring and worthwhile rather than crass and irritating. Pink Industry's E.P. Forty Five was something I didn't expect would be up to much but the four varied tracks brought out the curious, inquisitive music obsessive side of me that hadn't been so enamoured with that type of indie noise in years. Weekend's indie jazz pop proved a charming delight and so, too, was the touching grace of Spectral Display's "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love". So many great songs that I would never have had the chance to hear had I not been doing this project.
Alas, "25 Years" is not one of them. Lesley White doesn't have her hopes up for a group she's utterly unfamiliar with — "the nostalgic, hand-tinted sleeve tells me that The Catch are Don Snow and Chris Whitton (which tells me nothing)" — but the record gives her oodles of pleasure. Hopes low, enjoyment-level high: I wish I could say the same for my experience. Expecting something else, I listened and re-listened over the past several days hoping it might grow on me or that I might hear an appealing groove or melody or a touching vocal or anything that makes singles of the fortnight. Yeah, nothing.
That's not to say there aren't surprises here, even if they don't do much to advance the record. With all due respect to White (I could never not respect a Smash Hits scribe, no matter how duff their taste in music) her analysis doesn't quite hold up. I don't hear the slightest trace of early Roxy Music, I'm quite certain that there's just the one saxophone wailing away — though, granted, it is the best part — and that vocal may be to trying a bit too hard to be "not a million miles from Bronski Beat" (a Catch member's voice cracks at the end of the line "now I'm trying to wash away the tears" which leads me to suspect that we've got a Jimmy Sommerville impersonator on our hands). Rather, we have a mix of white English soul, synth-pop and dramatic gospel which would sound fresh and stately if not for the crucial fact that it's not much cop at all.
I could blame it on dashed expectations but that doesn't help save a boring record, one which I very much wanted to enjoy. This mid-'84 batch of (mostly) lackluster SOTF's has been a tough slog and there may yet be a few more duds to get through before things get better (you know, assuming they ever do). Good thing, then, that there are a pair of nifty little singles coming up as a brief respite. Just don't expect too much.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Elvis Costello & The Attractions: "The Only Flame in Town"
Elvis Costello's standing began to take a beating at around this time and it's easy to see why. He was no longer content to show off either his vast musical knowledge nor some clever lyrical tricks and simply made due with the tired tunes that make up Goodbye Cruel World, which was both the nearest thing he ever did to a divorce album and an aborted attempt at quitting the music business. It's over-produced and the whole thing is a mess but there's something refreshing about him just getting on with writing a batch of songs that show you how he's feeling for once. Well sung with the aid of a guesting Darryl Hall, "The Only Flame in Town" is simple and catchy and, unusually for a Costello record, really quite likeable. There's a new-found vulnerability here, something that he would put to good use on the following year's mostly great follow-up King of America, but this is also about where on the fence Costello followers begin dropping off. Wouldn't you know it, just as he's getting interesting and people stop caring — I suppose they were expecting too much.
Over the last year and a half that this blog has been going, I've come across some very pleasant surprises. It was nice, for example, to discover that The Police were occasionally able to put their considerable talents together into something stirring and worthwhile rather than crass and irritating. Pink Industry's E.P. Forty Five was something I didn't expect would be up to much but the four varied tracks brought out the curious, inquisitive music obsessive side of me that hadn't been so enamoured with that type of indie noise in years. Weekend's indie jazz pop proved a charming delight and so, too, was the touching grace of Spectral Display's "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love". So many great songs that I would never have had the chance to hear had I not been doing this project.
Alas, "25 Years" is not one of them. Lesley White doesn't have her hopes up for a group she's utterly unfamiliar with — "the nostalgic, hand-tinted sleeve tells me that The Catch are Don Snow and Chris Whitton (which tells me nothing)" — but the record gives her oodles of pleasure. Hopes low, enjoyment-level high: I wish I could say the same for my experience. Expecting something else, I listened and re-listened over the past several days hoping it might grow on me or that I might hear an appealing groove or melody or a touching vocal or anything that makes singles of the fortnight. Yeah, nothing.
That's not to say there aren't surprises here, even if they don't do much to advance the record. With all due respect to White (I could never not respect a Smash Hits scribe, no matter how duff their taste in music) her analysis doesn't quite hold up. I don't hear the slightest trace of early Roxy Music, I'm quite certain that there's just the one saxophone wailing away — though, granted, it is the best part — and that vocal may be to trying a bit too hard to be "not a million miles from Bronski Beat" (a Catch member's voice cracks at the end of the line "now I'm trying to wash away the tears" which leads me to suspect that we've got a Jimmy Sommerville impersonator on our hands). Rather, we have a mix of white English soul, synth-pop and dramatic gospel which would sound fresh and stately if not for the crucial fact that it's not much cop at all.
I could blame it on dashed expectations but that doesn't help save a boring record, one which I very much wanted to enjoy. This mid-'84 batch of (mostly) lackluster SOTF's has been a tough slog and there may yet be a few more duds to get through before things get better (you know, assuming they ever do). Good thing, then, that there are a pair of nifty little singles coming up as a brief respite. Just don't expect too much.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Elvis Costello & The Attractions: "The Only Flame in Town"
Elvis Costello's standing began to take a beating at around this time and it's easy to see why. He was no longer content to show off either his vast musical knowledge nor some clever lyrical tricks and simply made due with the tired tunes that make up Goodbye Cruel World, which was both the nearest thing he ever did to a divorce album and an aborted attempt at quitting the music business. It's over-produced and the whole thing is a mess but there's something refreshing about him just getting on with writing a batch of songs that show you how he's feeling for once. Well sung with the aid of a guesting Darryl Hall, "The Only Flame in Town" is simple and catchy and, unusually for a Costello record, really quite likeable. There's a new-found vulnerability here, something that he would put to good use on the following year's mostly great follow-up King of America, but this is also about where on the fence Costello followers begin dropping off. Wouldn't you know it, just as he's getting interesting and people stop caring — I suppose they were expecting too much.
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