19 April 1979 (and here)
— Cliff White
While it would eventually become a revolving door of music hacks, pop stars, DJ's, soap stars and a schoolboy with very strong opinions, Cliff White was Smash Hits' resident singles reviewer in their early period (just as "Red Starr" handled the albums). The term 'Single of the Fortnight' didn't exist but His Nibs would usually make it clear as to his favourite, typically kicking off his round up with a short prologue seguing into the best of the bunch. But it didn't really happen in this issue. He opens with a review of "I'm an Upstart" by Angelic Upstarts, admitting that its the only "really exciting" rocker to be found. Fair enough but he has little else positive to say about it (and he's right seeing as how it was already two or three years out of date). He contrasts this vulgar punk anthem with the lighter and more charming Jonathan Richman and his neat little ditty "Lydia" (see below), for which he displays much more enthusiasm. Unfortunately, a little bit of Richman can go a long way, as White acknowledges, and I'm not quite convinced it would have been his choice cut either. Best look elsewhere.
It's not until the second page of the singles that we get to a record that genuinely thrills him — and one that is in no danger of getting on his nerves at some point. "Tell Everybody" was the follow-up to the Top 20 success of "You Bet Your Love" but to him it's an even more impressive work, albeit one in danger of failing to match its predecessor's chart placing due to being "far too funky" (which proved correct when it missed the charts entirely). White was long a devotee of soul, Motown and funk and his sympathies even carried over into disco. It didn't matter who was at the helm so long as he was into what he heard. The identity of the artist in question here probably meant a great deal more to others than it did to him.
It's difficult to imagine listening to early works of Herbie Hancock — say, his outstanding Blue Note album Maiden Voyage or his efforts on E.S.P. and Miles Smiles as part of Miles Davis' Second Great Quintet — and being able to connect them to his disco period at the end of the seventies. His former boss was well known for radically altering the type of music he was playing, from bop to cool to hard bop to avant-bop to fusion and onward, but he always had his distinctive trumpet style to make anyone with a passing knowledge of him be able to recognize who that soloist was. But there's nothing one might recognize in what Hancock was doing in 1979 with his recordings from fifteen years earlier. And to think, Davis had to prod him into playing the electric piano when it came time to record the magnificent Filles de Kilimanjaro in 1968.
But not only is "Tell Everybody" a marked departure from the likes of "The Sorcerer" and "Madness", it barely even resembles the jazz-funk grooves of his remarkable Head Hunters album. Reinvention is fine but to what end in this instance? What's Hancock even doing on this record? "Singing" through a vocoder? Playing some repetitive and comically easy synth parts? At least the rhythm section is keeping itself busy and, yes, the bass line is the highlight. Jazz purists may have been up in arms that he was selling out but I'd argue that the real crime involved is wasting his considerable talents on the sort of piece that real disco masters Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers — who both, notably, came from jazz backgrounds — could have conjured up in their sleep.
It's worth noting that Hancock had formed his V.S.O.P. ensemble with fellow Davis alums Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter and Tony Williams, along with Freddie Hubbard, at around this time and he may have felt that by pursuing something closer to "real" jazz he was free to go full on disco in his solo career. Fair enough and more power to him but listening to the driving intensity of "Skagly" or the lush swing of "Finger Painting" (both from Five Star, the sole V.S.O.P. studio album) next to "Tell Everybody" (as well as most of his Feets, Don't Fail Me Now LP), there's no question that he was utilizing his talents well on one and phoning it in on the other. He wore one hat rather better than the other but, to his credit, he stuck with it, much to the delight of Cliff White and jazz fans alike.
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers: "Lydia"
Combining old doo-wop and skiffle with some Lou Reed street smarts may have been something no one asked for but it was what Jonathan Richman served up and the world was a better place for it. "Lydia" is a fine example of his skills but, as White says (and I mention above), he's best served in "small doses". Richman can't sing for toffee but something would be lost here with a better vocalist. A grower that irritates at first but has you singing along within three listens. Gosh, he's so clever.
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