— Vici MacDonald
We last encountered The Associates on here just as they happened to be on the ascent. They really did have it all: a frontman with a kind of melancholic charisma partnered with an able guitarist who in tandem pieced together a single that is so catchy and so addictive that when the good people at Ace Records finally get round to inviting me to curate a Singles of the Fortnight compilation it will be on my shortlist. Fleshed out with a strong cast of backing musicians — who weren't quite full time Associates (though you'd never know it given the way the camera operator seems to adore Martha Ladly's keyboard posturing), it seems they were only associated with The Associates — Billy McKenzie and Alan Rankine appeared set.
Three years on and looked at what's changed. That big breakthrough never occurred, the hits quickly began to dry up and everyone left. Well, almost everyone. Effectively an entirely new band (or a solo project in all but name), McKenzie was the man in charge and, given the state of the shambolic recording sessions that resulted in third album Perhaps initially being rejected by their/his record label, proved to be in over his head. Now, I'm not so sure that the original incarnation of The Associates was much cop to begin with. Yes, "Party Fears Two" is magnificent but the group struggled to better it and proved incapable of even delivering more of the same. Subsequent Rankine-area singles "Country Club" and "18 Carat Love Affair" aren't too bad but they don't light up a room or cheer up a dreary bus ride the way their predecessor did so effortlessly. So, it's not as if they were running with all this momentum but the departures of Rankine and bassist Michael Dempsey and Ladly's non-appearance here (she's listed as still a "member" until '86 but she doesn't appear to have done much with them during the mid-eighties) were huge setbacks.
Thus, McKenzie was coming back at a point of probable weakness. His songs could be a perfect vessel for any vulnerability he was feeling and in this respect "Breakfast" works well enough. The vocalist's Bowie-like pitch having been jettisoned in favour of something much more downcast and accompanied by strings and a graceful piano, the result is stark even if one may or may not end up feeling touched by it. Vici MacDonald isn't wrong about the record being best suited to "brittle white winter morning[s]" but it fails to align itself with any other mood and/or climate and forces listeners to either adapt to its bleakness or give up listening intently. This fortnight's critic isn't too bothered by McKenzie's "totally incomprehensible" lyrics but it's something I'm having trouble looking past. Even within the context of the singer's eventual suicide just over twelve years later it fails to connect with me. Matters may be too personal to allow others in or I'm just a cold and sad bastard but, either way, I find myself in admiration of the bleak beauty but shrug at the heartfelt but impenetrable confessions that lie within.
Simon Reynolds has called them the "great should-have-beens of British pop" and I think that can be taken to mean a lot. They should have had more hits and success. They should have been much more than a flash in the pan. They should have fulfilled their promise. They should have had a turn on the eighties revival circuit - perhaps even to this day. And they should have found a way to get an apathetic public over to their side. But should they have been able to top "Party Fears Two"? That's asking an awful lot.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
The Colourfield: "Thinking of You"
Billy McKenzie wasn't the only one experiencing a come down around this time. Having been a key part of The Specials' stunning run of superlative singles and doing fair business with offshoot band Fun Boy Three (especially their swansong "Our Lips Are Sealed", still my favourite SOTF, just pipping ver League's "Love Action"), it's a bit sad to see Terry Hall going the cheerful route with his latest act The Colourfield. It's a difficult song to dislike but it's also hard to take seriously. Maybe I'm not even meant to. Still, aren't there better things he could have been doing? Like taking a page out of Billy McKenzie's book and going for more sorrow for one.
We last encountered The Associates on here just as they happened to be on the ascent. They really did have it all: a frontman with a kind of melancholic charisma partnered with an able guitarist who in tandem pieced together a single that is so catchy and so addictive that when the good people at Ace Records finally get round to inviting me to curate a Singles of the Fortnight compilation it will be on my shortlist. Fleshed out with a strong cast of backing musicians — who weren't quite full time Associates (though you'd never know it given the way the camera operator seems to adore Martha Ladly's keyboard posturing), it seems they were only associated with The Associates — Billy McKenzie and Alan Rankine appeared set.
Three years on and looked at what's changed. That big breakthrough never occurred, the hits quickly began to dry up and everyone left. Well, almost everyone. Effectively an entirely new band (or a solo project in all but name), McKenzie was the man in charge and, given the state of the shambolic recording sessions that resulted in third album Perhaps initially being rejected by their/his record label, proved to be in over his head. Now, I'm not so sure that the original incarnation of The Associates was much cop to begin with. Yes, "Party Fears Two" is magnificent but the group struggled to better it and proved incapable of even delivering more of the same. Subsequent Rankine-area singles "Country Club" and "18 Carat Love Affair" aren't too bad but they don't light up a room or cheer up a dreary bus ride the way their predecessor did so effortlessly. So, it's not as if they were running with all this momentum but the departures of Rankine and bassist Michael Dempsey and Ladly's non-appearance here (she's listed as still a "member" until '86 but she doesn't appear to have done much with them during the mid-eighties) were huge setbacks.
Thus, McKenzie was coming back at a point of probable weakness. His songs could be a perfect vessel for any vulnerability he was feeling and in this respect "Breakfast" works well enough. The vocalist's Bowie-like pitch having been jettisoned in favour of something much more downcast and accompanied by strings and a graceful piano, the result is stark even if one may or may not end up feeling touched by it. Vici MacDonald isn't wrong about the record being best suited to "brittle white winter morning[s]" but it fails to align itself with any other mood and/or climate and forces listeners to either adapt to its bleakness or give up listening intently. This fortnight's critic isn't too bothered by McKenzie's "totally incomprehensible" lyrics but it's something I'm having trouble looking past. Even within the context of the singer's eventual suicide just over twelve years later it fails to connect with me. Matters may be too personal to allow others in or I'm just a cold and sad bastard but, either way, I find myself in admiration of the bleak beauty but shrug at the heartfelt but impenetrable confessions that lie within.
Simon Reynolds has called them the "great should-have-beens of British pop" and I think that can be taken to mean a lot. They should have had more hits and success. They should have been much more than a flash in the pan. They should have fulfilled their promise. They should have had a turn on the eighties revival circuit - perhaps even to this day. And they should have found a way to get an apathetic public over to their side. But should they have been able to top "Party Fears Two"? That's asking an awful lot.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
The Colourfield: "Thinking of You"
Billy McKenzie wasn't the only one experiencing a come down around this time. Having been a key part of The Specials' stunning run of superlative singles and doing fair business with offshoot band Fun Boy Three (especially their swansong "Our Lips Are Sealed", still my favourite SOTF, just pipping ver League's "Love Action"), it's a bit sad to see Terry Hall going the cheerful route with his latest act The Colourfield. It's a difficult song to dislike but it's also hard to take seriously. Maybe I'm not even meant to. Still, aren't there better things he could have been doing? Like taking a page out of Billy McKenzie's book and going for more sorrow for one.
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