Depeche Mode: "Strangelove"

22 April 1987

"This is very much their style, isn't it?"

— Gary Numan

• Hi everyone! My name is Vince and I'm 14 years old. I'm looking for pop music fans to write to. I like the Pet Shop Boys, The Cure, The Smiths, New Order, Depeche Mode, Tears for Fears, Gary Numan and The Style Council. Anyone out there interested? If so please drop me a line at 116 Lister Rd., The Mumbles, Swansea, DMF 101.

~~~~~

Dear Vince,

Hi! My name is Paul and I am almost 12. I saw your message in RSVP in the last issue of Smash Hits. I think we like a lot of the same music!

I'm from Canada but I'm currently living in Essex with my family for a year. We're going back home in a few months and I would like to have lots of friends in the UK to keep in touch with and talk about music. I hope you don't mind having a penpal in another country!

So I also really like the Pet Shop Boys. I got their tape for Christmas and it's really good. I keep listening to the first side and then rewinding back to the start. I also really like The Cure and New Order. My sister has the Style Council tape and we listen to that a lot too. I don't know much about the Smiths but I think they did that song Panic last year, right? I liked it but my sister didn't. She also really likes Tears for Fears but I just think they're okay. So why do you like Depeche Mode so much? Don't all their songs sound the same? And who's Gary Numan?

I hope you'll write back. Take care!

Paul

~~~~~

Dear Paul,

You're from Canada? That's cool. What's pop music like there? Do you like Bryan Adams? He's from Canada, right?

I'm glad to hear you like a lot of the same music as me but it's all right if we have different opinions. Maybe we can convince each other to listen to some different stuff.

You might be a bit young for Depeche Mode. I'm in third year and they have a lot of songs that are about some dark thoughts that people my age have. I know what you mean about their songs being kind of samey but they used to have more variety. Try listening closely to the words, there's some deep meaning in their lyrics.

It sounds like your sister has good taste in music too. I have an older brother who got me into music. Ask her what she thinks of Depeche Mode. I notice that you're living in Basildon: did you know that's where they're from?

You've never heard of Gary Numan? He used to be really popular. I think if you like a lot of stuff with synthesizers then you'll like him.

Until next time mate!

V.

~~~~~

Hi Vince! How have you been? The term is almost over and so is our year in Basildon. We're going to take a coach trip of Europe soon and then we'll be back in Canada soon after that. So what are you going to do this summer?

Yeah, Bryan Adams is from Canada. I used to like him. My mum got me the tape of his song "Diana" which I think is about Princess Diana. He says he loves her but I don't think he does. Do you know his song "Summer of '69"? It's pretty good. I don't really like his songs anymore though.

So I found a copy of "Strangelove" by Depeche Mode at the local Woolworths in an old box with a bunch of other singles. It was 50p so I thought I'd buy it and follow your advice. I think I saw them do it on Top of the Pops a while ago. I've been playing it a lot at home and now the rest of my family is sick of it!

The song is pretty good but what does it all mean? I don't understand why he wants to give pain to his girlfriend. If I tried to give pain to any of the girls in my class they'd thump me and go crying to the teacher!

No one here in Basildon seems to care that Depeche Mode are from here. One lad in my class told me they went to our school in Billericay but I don't believe him. He also told me that he knows the the singer from Level 42.

I asked my sister about Gary Numan and she doesn't know anything about him either. I wonder if I can find out more about him when I get back to Canada.

Have a great summer!

Paul

~~~~~

Dear Vince,

Hi mate! Sorry, I forgot to give you my address in Canada. Did you try to write to me in Basildon?

I've now been back here for 2 months and I miss Britain. My friends here really like looking at pictures of cars but I think it's boring. They also hate all my music because they all like rap or metal. I really miss my mates in Basildon and Billericay and I also miss Smash Hits and Top of the Pops. Most of the music magazines here are so serious. There are some good music video shows on here but they don't seem as important as TOTP. The number one over here is "La Bamba" by a group called Los Lobos. Have you heard of them? It's being used in a movie about an older singer who died. It's okay but I'm already sick of it being played everywhere.

I'm spending a lot of time on my own in the school library. I found a music book called The Rock Book which I borrowed. It has short bios of different groups and singers and lots of photos. I was looking at it and it has information about most of our favourite bands! I was really surprised. I liked reading about Depeche Mode and New Order. And they even have info about Gary Numan! I'm really interested in listening to some of his songs!

So, how's being back at school? You're in fourth year now, right? The only good thing about being in school here is that I don't have to wear a uniform anymore. I like wearing jeans to school.

I hope you're well!

Paul

~~~~~

Paul! How are you doing mate? It's good to hear from you! I was worried I might not hear from you again!

I'm sorry to hear that returning to Canada isn't going well. It sounds like you need some new friends. My mates from junior school all became a bunch of prats when we moved up to our comprehensive and I was rid of them all by the end of first year. Try to find some people who like the same music if you can — or at least people who have more interesting hobbies than looking at a bunch of bloody cars!

But one of the nice things about music is that it's there when we're lonely. When I'm feeling down, I really like having the Pet Shop Boys and Cure and Depeche Mode on.

Wow, you lot in Canada are behind. Los Lobos were at number one here back in August. We just had a month of this bloke called Rick Astley at the top with Never Gonna Give You Up. I predict people will forget all about it in the future. But the new number one is called "Pump Up the Volume" by MARRS and it's brill! Have you heard it? I hope it comes over to Canada soon, I think you'll love it as much as I do.

Gotta go now. Top of the Pops is on!

V.

~~~~~

Hey Vince. So, I've been trying to find some people to talk music with but it's not going well. Mr. Coutts, the art teacher at my school, lets us play tapes during class time and I put on The Style Council. Everyone in the class demanded it be turned off by the second song. Then, Mr. Coutts said that he liked it and that made matters worse. Everyone says I have the worst taste in music in the entire school.

I've been feeling down a lot and I've been playing that Depeche Mode song quite a bit. I still don't really know what it's about but I think I understand what they mean about wanting someone to take your pain away. But don't you think it's strange that you want to listen to depressing music when you're feeling depressed? Don't we end up feeling more depressed?

I haven't heard this "Pump Up the Volume" song yet but I'll try to remember it. I'm really looking forward to hearing it.

My one good news is that I've joined a band with my friend Ethan who lives just down my street. He's a year younger than me but he and some of his school friends have had this group for a year already. We met just yesterday so I could talk to everyone. We want to play everything except for no country and no rap. We also have lots of song titles. Ethan's all have just one word which I think is dead boring. Jeff is the leader and is trying to save up for a drum kit and I'm going to try to get a bass guitar soon. Maybe I'll send you a tape of our stuff someday!

I hope it was a good TOTP. I miss that show!

Yours,

Paul

~~~~~

Hi Paul. I know what you mean about depressing music but it's like they're singing directly to me and they understand what I'm going through even if no one else gives a toss. You're right about "Strangelove", it's all about wanting someone to be there to take that pain away. There aren't any girls around who'll look twice at me at the moment but until then there's loads of good records to help me through.

It's good to hear you've joined a band with the lads down the road from you. My mate Steve asked me to join his group a while ago and I'm still thinking about it. I want to be the singer but they've got a girl on vocals and they want me to play keyboards. I might do it, I don't know.

How are the charts in Canada these days? There's this terrible song by this group called T'Pau at number one now. They aren't popular in Canada too, are they?

By the way, I met a girl at the roller rink last week and she's a big fan of Depeche Mode too! She likes lots of good music in fact. See? There are girls out there for lads like us! (Though she doesn't like Gary Numan...)

Rock on Tommy!

Vince

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Latin Quarter: "Nomzamo (One People One Cause)"

• Pop veteran who's down the dumper looking to rant further. Greetings. I was once a pop giant who fell on hard times but I'm still active and keen to discuss many of my passions: myself, everything that's wrong with the state of current pop, aviation, etc. I enjoy making value judgements about others but bitterly resent it when they're directed at me — but at least I'm honest. I don't like giving my money away and also wonder why those who do don't just give it all away. I think that being commercial is the best way to get through to as many people as possible even if that will eventually fly in the face of my eventual courtship of Trent Reznor and my status as a godfather of industrial rock. I don't stand for anything and I am convinced that there's something seriously wrong with those who do. I like myself, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode and Nick Kamen and I hate Latin Quarter, The Smiths, Talking Heads, Beastie Boys and anything to do with Paul Weller. Write to me if you're a Numanoid in need of direction: 37 Replica St., Stanwell, Surrey, AFE 818.

That Petrol Emotion: "Big Decision"

8 April 1987

"D'you want me to be more sort of "this is good" or "this is crap" or something?

— Shane MacGowan (with Sylvia Patterson there to hold his hand)

I've been on a "kick" as of late by relating the music of 1987 to the early part of the decade. Of the previous seven entries, only one SOTF is by an artist that didn't establish themselves a few years earlier (take a bow, Fuzzbox). Four of them are by people who appeared on Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas?" (though I was stunned to discover that neither Aretha Franklin nor Prince are on the American equivalent record "We Are the World" by USA for Africa; for what it's worth, Corey Hart is one of the "featured" soloists on the Canadian contribution to the Ethiopian famine relief, Northern Lights' "Tears Are Not Enough") A "second Great Eighties Pop Boom" (as Sylvia Patterson dubbed it in her fine memoir I'm Not with the Band) was right around the corner but until then it was a matter of dealing with those who had survived the first rush.

There's somewhat of this same spirit present this issue as well. Derry's That Petrol Emotion are newish but they are a direct descendant of Ulster punks The Undertones and, thus, actually predate the likes of Boy George, Duran Duran and U2. Rather than representing a coming together of Northern and "Southern" Ireland through peaceful defiance, as symbolized by Bono, ver Tones were young people who lived through The Troubles as though it were an everyday part of life. The fivesome of Feargal Sharkey, John and Damian O'Neill, Michael Bradley and Billy Doherty were the sort of Irish youths who might not have given a toss about the issues surrounding sectarian violence but for the fact that it surrounded them in the process. Their songs from "Teenage Kicks" on aren't about terrorism, they're about getting through life in spite of it.

The Undertones were a fantastic band and I only wish I could have encountered them when I was fourteen or fifteen and full of angst and bitterness — though, strangely, I feel far more at home as a man in his forties listening to their frothy, youthful anthems than I do the more grown-up (and humourless) Clash. But it couldn't last and the group made a brave crack at maturity which only kind of works. One of the earliest pieces on this blog, "Julie Ocean" was almost a hit single and represents their last gasp of creativity but one that lacks the passion of old. This Undertones was no longer a punk outfit of any kind.

With Sharkey's departure for a solo career, the O'Neill brothers decided to head back up to Derry to start over again. This was a brave move on their part: they could have easily remained in London to form a group with other aging punks on the scene; they also could have taken off for New York or LA to hook up with fellow expat musicians and studio warriors — these were the more natural paths for your average erstwhile guitarist. But they went back to their roots and reconnected with some old hands on the Northern Irish indie circuit. They then swiftly returned to London and had soon discovered a young American on a working holiday.

That Petrol Emotion were not trapped in the shadow of The Undertones. They had a sound that sparks with an alt rock verve much more typical of the late eighties than a decade earlier (they even had their eyes on the emerging hip hop and house scenes which they sadly only touch upon here) This is most obviously found in singer Steve Mack, for good or bad. Wikipedia describes him as "charismatic" and that's even clear from just listening to him. He has that sort of voice of a cocky frontman of a power pop band that is of moderate importance on US college radio, which is also pretty much what "Big Decision" amounts to. The guitars are chunky but repetitive and it all boils down to competence rather than inspiration.

So, once again, veterans of along lost UK music scene struggle to find a place in a changing culture. Though roughly of the same generation, The Jesus & Mary Chain — also reviewed this fortnight with the blistering "April Skies", a single that Shane MacGowan seems much more enthusiastic about — had a far greater grasp of translating punk into a contemporary indie aesthetic.The Smiths had pop hooks to set them apart, even if their best days were already behind them. New Order still had the D.I.Y. graft that always did them good. But That Petrol Emotion lack that something to make them stand apart and you almost wish they had a bit more Undertones in them.

The singles were reviewed by Shane MacGowan of The Pogues, a group many North Americans assume to be Irish. A tip of the cap to Sylvia Patterson for her role "listening in". This is the first time a Hits scribe has been given a co-credit and it's one that is well deserved. MacGowan is barely coherent as it is so it's a good thing she was around to make some semblance of something readable for the pop fans out there. For his part, MacGowan does a decent job though he struggles to express a great deal more than appreciation or hostility. He is, however, able to relate to various pop records and they aren't just those you might expect. My expectations for musicians doing the singles aren't especially high and I'm just glad he doesn't act like a total git. Which is more than can be said for the next pop type who reviews the singles — and one who just so happens to be yet another throwback to the early eighties pop boom. You won't have to wait long.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Chris & Glenn: "Diamond Lights"

Aka "Hoddle and Waddle" as MacGowan suggests (and, to be sure, it's a much better name). Members of Tottenham Hotspur F.C. are no strangers to recording pop songs from "Ossie's Dream (Spurs Are on Their Way to Wembley)" to Gazza's "Fog on the Tyne" though it's disappointing that this proud tradition hasn't been taken up by the likes of Harry Kane and Son Heung-min — and with K-Pop at its zenith, this would be the perfect time to strike while the iron is hot so get on it lads! I wasn't familiar with this and assumed that "Glenn & Chris" was just another name for the pairing of Difford & Tillbrook formerly of Squeeze. Instead, it's a pair of standout midfielders from English football's best non-Merseyside squad of 1986-87 First Division, as it was known at the time. Not one to shy away from the spotlight, Hoddle puts his "all" into his breathless vocal while the more reserved Waddle mumbles along as though embarrassed by (a) his stab at pop stardom or (b) by his partner's bravado. And who can blame him?

U2: "With or Without You"

25 March 1987

"This single will send tingles down your spine."

— Ro Newton

It's difficult to imagine now but there was a time when Bono and U2 weren't hugely famous — and one needn't go back as far as the sixties when they were still in primary school. The recording of the Band Aid charity single "Do They Know It's Christmas?" at the end of November,1984 was something the press were all over — and, for once, trashy tabloid coverage wasn't unwelcome. One such journal of "record" carried a photo of three vocalists sharing a mic, naming them in a left to right caption: Sting, Bono of U2 and Simon Le Bon. Everyone knew the lead singers from The Police and Duran Duran respectively but the Irishman in the middle with the silly name? Better remind people who he plays with.

Bono of U2. The Irish foursome hadn't been massive pop stars the way Culture Club, Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet and Wham! had been but they had been coming off their strongest year yet. Having threatened to be hit makers for a while (the group came in fifth place in both 1980 and '81 for Most Promising New Act in the Smash Hits reader's poll, leading one nameless wag to comment "isn't it about time they came up with a really hot single and fulfilled some of that potential?"), they gradually won British fans over before going on to pull the same trick on the other side of the Atlantic. 1984's The Unforgettable Fire as well as hit single "Pride (In the Name of Love)" proved to be a breakthrough but real fame still alluded them.

A three year layover between albums is nothing in the twenty-first century but it wasn't as common back in the eighties. Michael Jackson and Bruce Springsteen — who both happened to have hotly anticipated new albums on their way in 1987 — could get away with such a delay since their earlier releases had been so overwhelmingly successful but, generally, it was common to remain productive. Both R.E.M. and The Smiths, groups who competed with U2 in terms of cult popularity, would put out an album every year as their fame gradually increased but ver "2" chose to hold off on a follow up for a bit. Ro Newton says that not much has been heard from them since their hit single "Pride" but this isn't entirely true — as she even admits herself. The simple narrative surrounding Live Aid was that Phil Collins kept his fans, Queen renewed them and U2 gained a whole new following. Their ten minute performance of "Bad" was simply epic and star making. You'd think this would be the perfect time to get more product out. Indeed, the E.P. Wide Awake in America reinforced their reputation as a towering live act and sold well despite the fact that the maxi single never really took off in North America. But seeming to capitalize on a charity concert was not the way they wanted to go about their business.

Wisely, the group chose to keep their appearances rare and did so only in high-profile benefit concerts. Following Live Aid, as Newton points out, they also appeared at an Amesty International event and at the (mostly) Irish artists-only Self Aid in Dublin. But when were they going to release something new? Bono did have a top twenty hit with countrymen Clannad on "In a Lifetime", which got him his first Smash Hits cover nearly two years before he did so as part of his day job. It helped that their following extended well beyond fickle young people. Baby Boomers who were snapping up CD's by Collins, Dire Straits and Sade had come to notice this quartet and they liked what they heard and saw. Bono and The Edge had long hair but it didn't look like they fussed over it. Their clothing was simple. Plus, everything they did seemed to mean something. Keeping their Christianity hidden away, they dedicated songs to Martin Luther King, had opinions on the arms race and their willingness to appear at festivals and on compilations for a good cause was such that it clearly wasn't just a passing fancy.

So, then it was 1987 and interest in U2 was still high though they weren't yet megastars. With all their heavy-handed charity work, they were in danger of getting on the wick of the public, which they would start doing before long (I don't know if it's in the movie but on the Rattle & Hum album, Bono goes into a long-winded speech in the middle of "Silver and Gold". Noticing a fan in the front row looking bored, he asks resentfully, "am I bugging you? Don't mean to bug ya"). It was a good move, then, to return with a love song. Yes, "With or Without You" is as serious and as rockist as they would remain for the rest of the decade but one can't help but feel gripped by Bono's underrated powers as a vocalist, those clipped guitars of The Edge (a good move on his part to hold off on his patented "shimmering shards" on this one) and Adam Clayton's pulse-beat bass. A pop obsessed youth of the time may have forgotten all about them (assuming they were ever aware) but they could find it just as enjoyable as an earnest, bespectacled English Lit major and treasurer of the Students for a Free Tibet or the "hip", ponytailed school career's advisor who used to believe in stuff.

Youngsters in the eighties may not be the most natural fans of U2 but they were probably better suited to judging their work based on their own merits. Kids weren't listening to Bobo, The Hedge, Adam "Clear Off" Clayton and the Other One because it was supposed to be good for them or because they gave money to Greenpeace or whatever but because their best songs have something that speaks to angst-ridden teens. "With or Without You" presents a 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' scenario that the young can identify with. Far from being a romantic statement, the song casts love as a burden which fails to reduce stress levels. Morrissey may have spoken to awkwardness but the dissatisfied wandering spirit of Bono's lyrics are as much a part of the spotty, go-nowhere loser's listening diet than anything else.

Despite U2's appeal among yuppies and clapped out old hippies and the like buying their back catalog on CD, they were always at heart a singles band. Some of their albums are excellent, others just fine and a couple with little going for them but they always had three or four outstanding potential 45's tucked away even if everything else was of no consequence. The Joshua Tree album had "With or Without You" as well as "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and "Where the Streets Have No Name" and they were all deservedly huge hits even if much of the rest of the L.P. was rather dour and samey. Grown up rock mags like Q and Rolling Stone could have all that rock 'n' roll authenticity and those boring deep cuts. They were never quite at home in the silly, frolicking world of Smash Hits but as long as they put out brilliant singles such as this, there would always be room in the hearts of Hits readers for a bit of U2.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Tom Verlaine: "Cry Mercy Judge"

You can take the girl from the indie but you can't take the indie from the girl. Somehow or other, Newton is hopeful that a record like "Cry Mercy Judge" can help land the former Television frontman a much needed hit. Obviously she's right that it's a fun little rocker but I reckon she's approached it like the Whistle Test host that she once was. Tom Verlaine always deserved a wider audience but his menacing tone and some cool spidery guitar wasn't going to cut it for getting into the charts. We would all have to get into him the traditional way: by seeking out Marquee Moon, playing it whole bunch of times, talking about it non stop and then never bothering to investigate the rest of his stuff.

Greg Lake: "I Believe in Father Christmas"

13 December 1979

"Pass the pudding."

— David Hepworth

The old scamp had been tasked with being the semi-regular singles reviewer for less than two months and it was already beginning to wear on him. David Hepworth has gone on to admit that he never cared much for handling the new releases and he will begin to really show his displeasure as 1980 progresses. ("Roll on The Eighties..." he optimistically concludes his singles review introduction: oh, how disappointed he will be)

Hepworth isn't in a very festive mood and only a handful of the new singles manage to put him in anything approaching the Christmas spirit. Even enjoyable reissues of the Booker T. & The MG's classic "Green Onions" and a curious "dustbin" raiding double A of David Bowie's "John, I'm Only Dancing" from 1972 backed with "John, I'm Only Dancing" from three years later fail to relive his ennui. But the bulk of the new stuff is dire and with the charts in general being almost entirely devoid of seasonal treats (Macca's not great but not as terrible as some would suggest "Wonderful Christmastime" was on its way to a top ten spot at the time this issue of Smash Hits was published and that's it — and it was something that his nibs described as "simple, catchy, clever and thoroughly nauseating"), it's no wonder Hepworth is so taken by a throwback to simpler times.

The Christmas number one as an event had begun in 1973 when Slade's "Merry Xmas Everybody" trounced Wizzard's "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday" (a year earlier, the John Lennon/Yoko Ono classic "Happy Christmas (War Is Over)" had been a sort of dry run for the spot but it somehow came up short behind some truly dismal competition from Little Jimmy Osmond and Chuck Berry; it probably didn't help that they weren't in Britain to do a Top of the Pops performance). This lucrative race didn't exactly spur a trend, though glam/fifties' pastiche group Mud pulled off the trick a year later with "Lonely This Christmas"; the only other big holiday-themed number that year was The Wombles with their biggest hit "Wombling Merry Christmas". (Showaddywaddy, one of Mud's main competitors in the fifties retro scene of the time, fell well short with "Hey Mister Christmas" and deservedly so)

So that makes two Christmas number ones on the bounce that were themed around the holiday but, again, this was not something everyone was suddenly getting in on. As such, Greg Lake must have figured he was a shoo in to take the title for 1975. But it couldn't dislodge Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" which was in the midst of a gargantuan two month residency in the top spot. This moment marked a sea change for the Christmas number one as members of rock's aristocracy could take the crown if they were willing to put out something grand and over-the-top, as Wings would do in 1977 with the sentimental Scots hymn "Mull of Kintyre". By the end of the decade, the Christmassy hits were no longer as potent (I'm glad I reside in Korea where Boney M.'s "Sunny" gets far more airplay than "Mary's Boy Child/Oh My Lord") and the latest rock gods to take a stab at having a seasonal smash was Pink Floyd, whose monumental "Another Brick in the Wall" proved successful but it didn't exactly fill the nation with some much needed cheer.

With all that background out of the way, how does "I Believe in Father Christmas" hold up? Would it have provided a more welcome sound in 1979 than it did four years earlier? Perhaps but this reissue nevertheless failed to chart. We weren't yet in the "Do They Know It's Christmas?"/"Last Christmas" era of Yuletide chestnuts that keep coming back so Radio 1 wouldn't have earmarked Lake's oldie for heavy rotation — and punters who shelled out for a copy the first time round weren't snapping up seconds. Yet, this could very well be the point it started to become a part of the British Festive Songbook in the minds of people like Hepworth. A reissue meant fresh product to potentially be stocked by the nation's pub jukeboxes, which were essential mediums in establishing Christmas records as modern classics.

Lake would eventually go on to claim that it's "appalling when people say it's politically incorrect to talk about Christmas, you've got to talk about the 'Holiday Season". Fair enough I suppose even though people have been using the similarly neutral 'Season's Greetings' for as long as I can remember and it's never been associated with cancel culture or any of that hooey. Given that "you can't say anything anymore" but apparently could forty-five years ago, I'm not sure what this remark has to do with the song itself. In fact, if you want to have a holiday free of offending others then that is the Christmas you deserve, isn't it?

Mixing some of Prokofiev's Lieutenant Kijé Suite with some gentle guitar picking, the track is also a meeting point between some of the more progressive Christmas numbers of the time by the likes of Mike Oldfield — whose insanely catchy minstrel romp "In Dulci Jubilo" didn't peak until after the New Year just as Lake's effort was tumbling down — and Jethro Tull and the many Yule folk records knocking about (including contributions from Steeleye Span and Bert Jansch). To have popular music's most complex genre in cahoots with its simplest may seem a gulf too wide to bridge but it gives the highfalutin an everyman's charm that it almost always otherwise lacks. Having started out as mainly an acoustic piece, it was ELP cohort Keith Emerson who suggested he insert a passage from the Russian composer's work; if Lake was looking to differentiate this solo outing from his day job, there was his visionary organist mate to reel him back in. Still, it's an effective addition and without it there it there would only be some pleasant guitar playing and a pleading vocal.

"I Believe in Father Christmas" succeeds at putting the childhood wonder of the holidays through a selection of disappointments ("they said it would snow at Christmas, they said there'd be peace on Earth") only for its magic to remain, not unlike the Whos singing Christmas carols in spite of the Grinch taking everything from them (expect, of course, for the bells in the centre of Whoville). All those promises may not come through but Christmas remains and that's a message we can do with in a thoroughly lousy year like 2020.

On the top notch sitcom Peep Show, the normally up for a shag Jez is offered the chance to have a festive romp with flatmate Mark's sister Sarah but he unexpectedly rejects her. Asked if he has suddenly gone all religious, he responds, "no, of course I don't believe in Jesus. But I do believe in Christmas. I'm a Christmasist". And there's the big takeaway from "I Believe in Father Christmas': it's not anti-religion, it isn't even anti-commercialism, it's simply very pro-Christmas. I don't have any pudding at the moment, David, but I'll happily pass round the shortbread.

~~~~~

Also of some cop

Monty Python: "Brian"/"Always Look on the Bright Side of Life"

The Pythons were a mighty clever bunch so I'll give Chapman, Idle and the rest the benefit of the doubt and assume they weren't in charge of putting this single out. But someone figured that the horrible "Brian" merited being released with an outside shot at the Christmas number one and for that they must be retroactively crowned Upper Class Twit of the Year. Hepworth likes that it takes the mickey out of rock operas and Shirley Bassey (as one YouTube comment says: "Why does this remind me of the theme from Goldfinger?") but the song is crap. I'm not sure it needs to catch viewers up on how the character of Brian went from being confused for the saviour to an awkward teenager battling puberty but I would say that since I always skip the opening credits anyway. Flip side "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" has become an funeral song cliche in this irony-obsessed age but it's much better and they should have realised that it was the song that had hit single potential — as it eventually would become, without the unfunny dreck on the other side weighing it down.

Prince: "Sign o' the Times"

11 March 1987

"If anybody else tried to turn such a cautionary tale into a brilliant single, they would undoubtedly end up sounding like Billy Bragg."

— Barry McIlheney

Marvin Gaye's What's Going On is a classic of seventies pop and soul. Keen to free himself from the Motown straitjacket of solo numbers and duets penned in house, the singer began seeking out his own collaborators to set his vision to music. When recordings done at the famed Hitsville USA studio in Detroit proved unsatisfactory, he transplanted to Los Angeles where he started from scratch. The resulting LP was (and still is) a revelation. Few would have ever thought that the black Sinatra that Motown head Berry Gordy had envisioned would have had something so beautifully crafted and well thought out (the only aspect that wouldn't have surprised anyone was how well the man could sing).

What's Going On ushered in Gaye's period as an albums artist. Follow ups Trouble Man, Let's Get It On, I Want You and Here, My Dear are all very different from each other but they all share the quality of having a consistent mood throughout. When rock hacks noodle on about concept albums they rarely mention Gaye but there may not have been anyone better at crafting them. The title track of What's Going On opens the album and it then segues into the very similar "What's Happening Brother"; the former is meant to create a dialog with someone who is hostile towards opposition to the war in Vietnam and the rule of Richard Nixon while the latter is about catching someone else (likely a veteran just back from 'Nam) up on current events. Themes shift from religion to ecology and on to inner city strife but all nine of its tunes maintain a kind of chilled intensity to them. By the time he got to the alimony-paying Here, My Dear (his true masterpiece), Gaye had been able to create essentially the same song again and again over the course of a sprawling hour and a quarter double album and the result was astonishing.

Prince didn't have Marvellous Marvin's singing voice but he was his artistic superior in every other way and his rise to pop dominance coincided with the demise of the Prince of Soul. He didn't pick up where Gay or anyone else left off because he had simply too much ground to cover. Always independent, the Purple One kept his distance from record company executives and showbiz glitz by keeping to himself in his native Minnesota. If he had any restraints, they were of his own creation.

Gaye and Prince aren't terribly similar but one thing they both shared was a propensity for leaving projects unfinished or unreleased. Gaye had an innate laziness to blame but Prince's reasons for abandoning various works over the years are much more complex. He would sometimes complete an entire album and have it ready for release before deciding at the eleventh hour to have it shelved, such as his famed Black Album which he suddenly decided was "evil". He was also a perfectionist and had a thing for butting heads with his longtime record label Warners.

Prince's supposed attempt at his own What's Going On goes back to previous albums that were subsequently ditched. Dream Factory had been a longstanding project that was meant to be a much more collaborative affair with members of The Revolution than what the normally dictatorial leader was accustomed to. Giving the likes of Lisa Coleman and Wendy Melvoin some creative control may have seemed like a good idea (the two were capable enough that we'll be encountering the duo in their own right on this blog before long) but it didn't suit Prince's style, which would have been not unlike Duke Ellington allowing members of his vast orchestra a say in their solos and recordings. Unsatisfied with the results, Dream Factory eventually fell apart and so, too, did his loyal band.

We then come to Camille, yet another aborted project. Using a female alter ego of the same name, Prince presumably sought to channel his feminine side into an album. I suppose it's an interesting concept and something we shouldn't be the least bit surprised he ever embarked upon but I can't say I'm yearning to give it a listen someday. Prince's voice was hardly butch to begin with yet the very idea of him having his vocals altered to a higher register makes me shudder. The album was in the can but it was nixed and it's likely that Warners got in the way. Undeterred, he went straight back into the studio for an ambitious triple album called Crystal Ball. Again, it was mostly finished but the suits didn't fancy putting out such a giant package. (It's surprising that Prince didn't have more pull with his record label back in those days but they must have correctly realised that his muse wasn't as commercial as Michael Jackson's or Madonna's)

Dream Factory, Camille and Crystal Ball failed to emerge but that meant that there was a glut of unreleased material, a sizable amount even for someone as prolific as Prince. Having rejected a pair of albums in the past few months, it behooved Warners to green light the double album Sign o' the Times. Far from being just a work of social consciousness, the LP covers a lot of thematic ground. His usual perviness is dialled back but there are still a great deal of more mature love songs. The fact that the sources of this material were so wide ranging is a credit to his ability to make the album hang together as well as it does. Indeed, the mood is so consistent that it could well be his Here, My Dear rather than his What's Going On.

As for the single itself, "Sign o' the Times" is really good though it can be difficult to pin down exactly why. It isn't flamboyant like so many of his previous hits and the arrangement is quite sparse. This isn't so remarkable in the context of his overall career but as a mid to late eighties pop superstar it isn't what listeners would have expected. Parade's dense, European soundscapes did set something of a precedent for this move but his more recent work only cemented it. The beat is simple and there are only flourishes of jangly guitar. Yet, restraint suits Prince: those over the top theatrics, those unnecessarily long solos, that voice that hits those high notes far more often than I ever would request: not present here and not missed.

So, the album isn't his What's Going On but how do the title tracks compare? On the surface they may seem similar but there are differences. There's a sense that Marvin Gaye really was concerned with the state of the world (even if his interest was fleeting as he moved on to themes of seduction and humiliating his ex-wife on future albums) while Prince is merely observing it. He reels off a laundry list of troubles in the world in the concerned manner of someone watching the evening news (something he even acknowledges with "you turn on the telly and every other story is tellin' you somebody died"). These then build up into a frenzied fear of a nuclear war and the end of life as we know it. He once encouraged everyone to dance as if The Bomb was on its way yet here he is planning to start a family ("we'll call him Nate...if it's a boy": his choice of baby names being a sadly telegraphed excuse to rhyme something with 'late': Prince wasn't always the greatest lyricist). A maturing Prince was no bad thing.

The Sign o' the Times album became a landmark and was his best work since 1999. Purple Rain was like more of the same but without the thrill and spark of its predecessor, Around the World in a Day was good fun but too much of a stylistic exercise to take completely seriously and Parade was uncharacteristically dry. Most artists thrive within the confines of the thirty-five to fifty minute album length but here was a guy who seemed to be at his best with the double album. So much music to make with so much to get out and so much left in the vaults, Prince needn't worry about concepts since he was a theme unto himself.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Johnny Hates Jazz: "Shattered Dreams"

So, I was eleven and I was at an age in which I was torn between the things of my childhood and growing up. Puberty was coming, I began thinking about having a girlfriend someday (not as soon as I was expecting but still) and dreaming about being a singer or an actor. For some reason, "Shattered Dreams" became this song of aspirational adulthood. Now that I am all grown up I know just how hollow this is. Clark Datchler is one of those classic puts-so-much-of-himself-into-something-so-meaningless vocalists that I can't help but chuckle at how pained he has convinced himself to sound. It would be a guilty pleasure save for the lack of pleasure to be found. They always said Johnny Hates Jazz were naff but I was convinced that they had to be good. They were right. Let the kids with big dreams for the future have 'em.

Boy George: "Everything I Own"

25 February 1987

"Rising like a phoenix out of the bargain bins, "Boy" George returns with a rendering of what us street traders describe as an old chestnut."

— Pete Clark

The Great Disappointment occurred — well, failed to occur — when predictions of a second coming of Christ in 1844 amounted to nothing. Baptist preacher William Miller prophesised through careful study of the Bible that it would happen on October 22 of that year. He amassed more than a million followers, many of whom gave up all their possessions since they were so confident that the saviour was on his way. He didn't turn up and, indeed, he has evidently decided to skip every subsequent party in his honour. Many of Miller's followers didn't give up and they went on to make further predictions of a return. I'm not religious so these tales baffle me: don't these people ever give up? So many second comings have come to nothing and yet they continue to believe that the end times are right around the corner. I'm just guessing but they might have to wait a bit longer.

I was much more affected by a second Great Disappointment that happened at the end of the nineties. This had nothing to do with religious prophecies of any kind, these were of far greater importance. In 1997, Oasis released their much-anticipated third album Be Here Now. A year later saw the finale of Seinfeld. Then, finally, The Phantom Menace opened in theatres in 1999. All three are still best known for the outrage they all caused. Fans expected a masterpiece from Oasis but were met with needlessly lengthy tracks, ghastly lyrics and ludicrously over the top production. Instead of a classic hour of comedy, the last episode of Seinfeld was meandering, pointless and flipped the bird at their fans. Star Wars Episode 1 was childish, weighed down by a horrible script everyone seemed pissed that the movie’s conflict had been kicked off by a dispute over taxes (Jesus, Star Wars fans find the stupiest things to complain about).

I didn't actually hate any of them at first because I had been in denial. Be Here Now is an event and we were experiencing history (true though not the way I had initially thought), the last episode of Seinfeld was had been a great way to go out and I really tried my hardest to laugh (a tell that I should’ve picked up on) and The Phantom Menace was good fun and I made sure to keep going back to see it an embarrassing number of times just to reaffirm that it didn’t suck. Sever denial.

I think there's some that going on in this week's singles review. Pete Clark is so happy to have Boy "funny one" George back that he can overlook a pretty drab entry from him. Admitting that it's "not exactly the sun rising in the West", he is hopeful that it will "mark the beginning of a full rehabilitation". The former Culture Club singer had become something of a national treasure and his struggles with heroin really touched people. With the public still very much on his side, it's easy to see why this comeback single would get good reviews and take him all the way back to the top of the charts.

It had to be the general goodwill that did it because this record has nothing else in its favour. Clark says the composition is "deceptively pretty" which I guess makes me one who has yet to be deceived by its charms. It had been originally a hit for Bread and it's as wet and uninspired as the rest of their work. Later covered by Jamaican Ken Boothe, the gentle lover's rock isn't bad and one can certainly see why George decided to mine it for his cover. Having kick started Culture Club's brief imperial period with the light reggae pop of "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me", doing something not dissimilar to commence his solo careers brings it all full circle.

Unfortunately, this is not the same Boy George from five years earlier. His voice isn't as strong, perhaps due to drug abuse or lack of confidence, and it feels like he already misses former bandmates Jon Moss, Mikey Craig and Roy Hay. This was less than a year since the final disastrous Club LP From Luxury to Heartache and perhaps he should have taken more of a rest before serving up some solo material. But his prominence in the media was still massive and this alone would have been reason enough to get it all going with little time to waste.

"Everything I Own" is limp but it gave him a big hit that he desperately needed but it all quickly fell of the rails. A pity, then, that some much better records he cut at the end of the eighties failed to chart. Singles like "No Clause 28" and "Don't Take My Mind on a Trip" were flops but they give listeners an idea of where his head was at the time and prove that he was still able to keep up with dance pop trends. But Boy George would be back: he forced his way into the spotlight and there was no removing him from it completely. And at least the hype surrounding him would be gone for good — no further Great Disappointments coming from this end.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Mel & Kim: "Respectable"

"Respectable" dethroned "Everything I Own" from the number one spot and this marks a sea change. New Pop was gasping its last breath of relevance and here was the New New Pop to push it out of the way for good. The production/writing team of Stock Aitken Waterman had been pumping out the hits for a good while now but this was their first original number to hit the top of the charts (to be followed in the next three years by many, many more). Sisters Mel and Kim Appleby have a lot of London street sass and SAW did a great job of tailoring a song to fit them (and always would in their tragically brief time together). Not exactly Clark's cup of tea but I've always like this one and it makes me wish that the era's most dominant songwriting team had been similarly careful about the material they were handing out to their charges.

The Cure: "Jumping Someone Else's Train"

29 November 1979

"It's the first of their records to actually sound finished and the first of many classics, I would venture."

— David Hepworth

Forty years and counting, numerous hit singles, million selling albums, a consistently popular concert attraction, a still-devoted worldwide fanbase, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame: David Hepworth foresees a bright future for The Cure but he couldn't possibly imagine what was to come for Robert Smith and his band with an ever changing lineup. In truth, it would have been much easier at the time to imagine groups like Squeeze and XTC enjoying that type of career arc instead. A Surrey-based three-piece fronted by some young bloke who yawns rather than sings? Give over!

Hepworth's forward-thinking praise is as much a credit to the critic as it is to the band. The trio had just two British singles and an album up to this point so there wasn't much to indicate that there were "many classics" in their future. Sure, they were already getting a fair share of acclaim (Red Starr considered them to be a "cross between The Police and The Banshees" while making debut LP Three Imaginary Boys his 'Almost Pick of the Fortnight') but they could just as easily have been a post-punk flash in the pan like The Adverts. Buzzcocks had been killing it as the finest English singles band since T-Rex and they had already just about dried up. So what made The Cure so special?

One could tell as early as 1978's "Killing an Arab" that there was something to this group. The Fall may have named themselves after a Camus novel but you'd never know it listening to their music; to base a song around the French author's extraordinary book The Stranger was an entirely different proposition. The punks may not have been universally moronic but they all played up to it and weren't about to go name dropping a book. The song's title would eventually come back to haunt them but that says as much about pop's lack of literary awareness as anything else. Being able to quote a book is one of many assets that Smith brought: his often overlooked guitar playing and distinctive voice being but two others. 

With positive reviews and the fact that "Boys Don't Cry" is one of their signature numbers, you might wonder what Hepworth means about "Jumping Someone Else's Train" being their first record to sound "finished". I don't know if I completely agree with him but it's understandable. Plenty undoubtedly love "Killing an Arab" for its rawness but others may be turned off for sounding like it was recorded on a cheap tape recorder in a musty old loft. "Boys Don't Cry" is a much more professionally made record but it gets a bit repetitive after a while and could do with a chord change and/or some lyrics that elaborate on its theme. "Train" has the ideas of the latter with the polish of the former which indeed makes it a fully-realised Cure effort. (This ignores many of the tracks on Three Imaginary Boys, which Hepworth may not have been entirely familiar with)

"Jumping Someone Else's Train" may have been a turning point for The Cure but it doesn't have quite the wow factor anymore. They would go on to cut far better singles, including follow up "A Forest" a few months later. Nevertheless, it's a fascinating piece that puts their early work into perspective. Their most punk-like number, the amphetamine rhythm section of Michael Dempsey and Lol Tolhurst is allowed a share of the spotlight, something that Smith's various subordinates over the years would often be denied. The Cure would soon expand to a quartet and would eventually become a five-piece as they entered their most popular period in the late eighties but this trio in 1979 may have been their most powerful unit. One would be tempted to ponder what they would have been like had they carried on in their Smith-Dempsey-Tolhurst iteration if not for the fact that lineup flux is a vital part of the Cure story.

The 'see also' section of the song's Wikipedia page has a link for 'List of train songs'. The locomotive is there in the title — as well as giving its POV of a journey from London's Victoria Station to Brighton in its promo — but it's not a train song the way "Homeward Bound" by Simon & Garfunkel or "Driver 8" by R.E.M. are. It's really about bandwagon hopping and following trends while neglecting one's own path. Few in pop have steadfastly gone their own way like Robert Smith, as he would show throughout the eighties and far beyond.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Dave Edmunds: "Crawling from the Wreckage"

"This man should be elevated to a peerage," Hepworth concludes. His nibs seems to be as fond of "Crawling from the Wreckage" as he is with "Jumping Someone Else's Train" and with good reason. The third single from album Repeat When Necessary, it has a tougher sound than predecessors "Girls Talk" and "Queen of Hearts" and Edmunds' sometimes weak voice seems to be filled out and sped up not unlike Elvis Costello or Nick Lowe. He was a good five to ten years older than most of his circle of British pub rock/new wavers (which, in addition to Costello and Lowe, also included Graham Parker, this song's composer) and was incapable of writing his own material but he could give them all tips on how to take command of a record. Far better than "I Hear You Knocking" (seriously, six weeks at number one?), it fully deserved to be a hit in its own right. It failed, as did that campaign for a peerage — at least so far.

Duran Duran: "Skin Trade"

11 February 1987

"Duran are apparently all quite chuffed with this single and for once, their smugness is justified."

— Lola Borg

The New Pop explosion of the early eighties (known in North America as 'the second British invasion") would have been a distant memory five years later but its legacy still cast a large shadow over the music scene. Some groups had broken up (Wham! did so amicably with a memorable farewell concert the previous summer, Culture Club had fallen apart spectacularly and Frankie Goes to Hollywood were about to follow suit) while others desperately tried to remain relevant (Spandau Ballet's gambit of going po-faced and serious worked with one single but their popularity quickly vanished, Madness had been through diminishing returns over the previous two years and were soon to re-brand themselves The Madness, much to the general disinterest of everyone, Soft Cell became impossible to sell). Yet, people like George Michael and Boy George were still properly famous in a way that a newer (and decidedly more handsome) face like Nick Kamen wasn't.

Duran Duran had kept on but this wasn't without its challenges. They desired a break following a rapid rise to the top but ended up forming a pair of pointless splinter acts before regrouping to do a very meh James Bond theme in 1985. Their records no longer had the thrill of "Rio", "Hungry Like the Wolf" and "The Reflex" and only exposed them as having suspect talents — which was also affirmed by their poor showing at Live Aid in which Simon Le Bon proved once and for all that he was not one of his generation's finest vocalists. Andy Taylor realised he no longer had any business playing in a pop group when his heart was in metal. Roger Taylor, perhaps the most in need of some kip during their proposed hiatus that never happened, decided to pack the pop life in for some rural relaxation. Reduced to the trio of Le Bon, Nick Rhodes and John Taylor (there's something not quite right about a Duran Duran lineup with only one unrelated Taylor), the group roped in Nile Rodgers to co-produce and some ace sessioners to augment the sound.

The results were mixed. The "Notorious" single did well enough but its fleeting chart run ought to have signaled that their days of guaranteed top three singles was over; in terms of quality, it has a nice, welcome back novelty about it but, as Lola Borg suggests, it didn't have the wheels to make a lasting impression. The album of the same name disappointed with just a single week in the top 40 in spite of some encouraging reviews but they knew they had an ace up their sleeves with its second single that was sure to revive their fortunes in the new year.

Yeah, about that. "Skin Trade" was something the group was extremely proud of but for whatever reason it failed to click with the public. The record spent a month drifting around the twenties before disappearing, giving them their worst chart performance since their forgettable second single "Careless Memories". For the love of god, "New Moon on Monday" did better and nobody even remembers that one. The dumper seemed to beckon but at least they were serving up a great song as they began their slide.

Putting out a great single that goes nowhere is nothing new. When Slade released the magnificent "How Does It Feel" from their film Flame they were stunned by its relative failure. "The Day Before You Came" is one of ABBA's finest moments and it just scraped the lower end of the Top 40. "Being Boring" is arguably the Pet Shop Boys' masterpiece and it somehow broke their streak of Top 10 hits. And joining them on this potential Now That's What I Call a Great Song That Almost Flopped comp (or, if you must, Spotify playlist) "Skin Trade" takes its proud place.

Wikipedia suggests that its poor showing was down to fans being turned off by their new direction and sound. Gone were Le Bon's pseudo-intellectualized word salad lyrics and production with far too much going on, which I suppose would puzzle listeners who reckoned "Is There Something I Should Know" to be the pinnacle of pop. Rodgers' funk guitar playing (with some nice power chords from future full time Duran Warren Cuccurullo) adds a nice texture to the sexiness that everyone present seems to have embraced. And, this being what must have been the most beshagged group of the decade, wasn't it about time Duran Duran began embracing their carnal side? Was this what turned people off, Simon Le Bon of all people being interested in sex?

That said, there are adult themes that might have made some want to look the other way. It's easy to listen to it assuming they'd all just been back from a month of illicit rumpo in Bangkok and I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's what inspired it. Plus, Le Bon isn't doing himself any favours by channeling Mick Jagger and Prince, two of pop's most legendary pervs. The singer did try to explain that it was actually about the exploitation of everyone and how we're all working for the skin trade but his appeal to universalism is hard to square with the lyrics, his singing and the overall performance — and, indeed, the record's banned sleeve depicting a young woman's buttocks relieved of any garments.

"Skin Trade" failed to register with ver kids but it really is the group's crowning achievement. Pop stars typically mature but few manage to keep their early energy alive and fewer still are able to do so in such sleazy fashion, embracing their true selves along the way. Rhodes and Taylor were always underrated musicians but the two really come into their own, with the former's keyboard playing being the backbone of the song (as well as the fact that he was the most accomplished musically and had a significant role in terms of production) and the latter's bass making it rhythmically their strongest outing. As stated above, Le Bon was not the greatest singer but he puts his vocals to good use: by being more like Bowie and Jagger and Prince, he became more like himself. They managed to make it through the rest of the decade free from the dumper with a tougher, edgier sound but without material close to as good as this.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Fine Young Cannibals: "Ever Fallen in Love"

Often cited as among the worst cover versions in pop history, I'll cop to once having liked FYC's rendition of "Ever Fallen in Love". It got on my wick less than many of the other hits on their second album The Raw & the Cooked (a rare LP whose deep cuts are vastly superior to its singles) and I liked its uneasy vibe. Then I heard the original by Buzzcocks and I've never been able to appreciate this second rate recording since. Former Beat members Andy Cox and David Steele should have known better though Roland Gift does his best with that little goes a long was voice of his. A nice try but woeful nonetheless.