— Cliff White
I'll also begin with a confession: I'm hoping to eventually do one of these posts without ever having heard the record in question. This is not something I will do on purpose by intentionally refraining from playing it but only if I happen upon a single that is unavailable online. But so far damn-near every single I've written about has been on YouTube (I had to get a subscription to Deezer in order to give Bob Dylan's "Lenny Bruce" a "spin") and it could be a situation I never have to deal with. I'll let you know if and when.
But it's not like everything is available online. While Cliff White wasn't able to hear the single release of "Say When", I've had problems tracking down the version from Lene Lovich's Stateless — or, I guess I should say, the original version from said album. It looks as though the bulk of its eleven tracks ended up being remixed for US release in 1979 and now the waters have been muddied in terms of knowing quite what's what. I may have heard the original for all I know but I haven't detected much of difference. I don't imagine I have much of an ear but it wouldn't be the first time remixing was a subtle art.
The follow-up to the Top 5 success of "Lucky Number", "Say When" was bound to have a lot to live up to. While not as big a hit, the record's Top 20 placing indicates that audiences hadn't fully tired of her shtick by this point. Different enough from its predecessor, it is nevertheless fronted by Lene Lovich and thus utterly recognizable.
White notes that it's not unlike a Bo Diddley number but I hear it more as a rockabilly freak out with a nod to the re-emerging ska movement and even a touch of circus fairground organ pumping away. "Lucky Number" was a vehicle for Lovich's individual talents to shine forth but this is much more of an all-around performance: her patented vocals squawks are present and correct but so, too, is the first rate playing of the band backing her — just as accomplished as the last time but with much more of a chance to shine with the singer holding herself back a bit.
Or perhaps it's the conciseness of the composition that forced Lovich to apply the breaks. "Lucky Number" packed in an awful lot of a story — too much, if anything — but there isn't a great deal to expound upon here. Her man is primed for some rumpo but the singer is commanding him to wait for her to give the go ahead. She probably desires a little bedtime action herself ("well you look plenty good to me", which gets some extra sexual push via Lovich's feisty vocal) but she's not about to let him force his will upon her. She's the one in charge and he'd better bloody not forget. A welcome feminist anthem or an account of a one woman power trip: either way, it's a point made without much fuss.
Lovich and partner Les Chappell were clearly on to something. She was charismatic with a unique image and vocal stylings unlike anyone else; he led a crack band that was stylistically all over the shop. They had two superb hit singles on the bounce and it must have seemed like this was going to continue. But that's the thing with those who are different: they can't just churn out product for the masses. They wouldn't know how to do it even if they wanted to.
But it's not like everything is available online. While Cliff White wasn't able to hear the single release of "Say When", I've had problems tracking down the version from Lene Lovich's Stateless — or, I guess I should say, the original version from said album. It looks as though the bulk of its eleven tracks ended up being remixed for US release in 1979 and now the waters have been muddied in terms of knowing quite what's what. I may have heard the original for all I know but I haven't detected much of difference. I don't imagine I have much of an ear but it wouldn't be the first time remixing was a subtle art.
The follow-up to the Top 5 success of "Lucky Number", "Say When" was bound to have a lot to live up to. While not as big a hit, the record's Top 20 placing indicates that audiences hadn't fully tired of her shtick by this point. Different enough from its predecessor, it is nevertheless fronted by Lene Lovich and thus utterly recognizable.
White notes that it's not unlike a Bo Diddley number but I hear it more as a rockabilly freak out with a nod to the re-emerging ska movement and even a touch of circus fairground organ pumping away. "Lucky Number" was a vehicle for Lovich's individual talents to shine forth but this is much more of an all-around performance: her patented vocals squawks are present and correct but so, too, is the first rate playing of the band backing her — just as accomplished as the last time but with much more of a chance to shine with the singer holding herself back a bit.
Or perhaps it's the conciseness of the composition that forced Lovich to apply the breaks. "Lucky Number" packed in an awful lot of a story — too much, if anything — but there isn't a great deal to expound upon here. Her man is primed for some rumpo but the singer is commanding him to wait for her to give the go ahead. She probably desires a little bedtime action herself ("well you look plenty good to me", which gets some extra sexual push via Lovich's feisty vocal) but she's not about to let him force his will upon her. She's the one in charge and he'd better bloody not forget. A welcome feminist anthem or an account of a one woman power trip: either way, it's a point made without much fuss.
Lovich and partner Les Chappell were clearly on to something. She was charismatic with a unique image and vocal stylings unlike anyone else; he led a crack band that was stylistically all over the shop. They had two superb hit singles on the bounce and it must have seemed like this was going to continue. But that's the thing with those who are different: they can't just churn out product for the masses. They wouldn't know how to do it even if they wanted to.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
The Human League: The Dignity of Labour
Sticking with the theme of records our good critic didn't listen to, this E.P. wasn't reviewed by White, it "accidentally on purpose" (they used that expression back in 1979?) ended up in the L.P. pile that Red Starr was tasked with. Impressing him far more than anything else this fortnight, he introduces the albums with this aside. While other early League singles "Being Boiled" (which came before this) and "Empire State Human" (later in the year) aren't all that far away from the commercial direction they'd famously take eighteen months later, the tracks that make up The Dignity of Labour are perhaps the most radical that Marsh, Ware and Oakey ever came up with — and you'd never see "Don't You Want Me" through all the Soviet-era cosmonauts and Politburo cheap cigarette smoke. How great were The Human League?
Sticking with the theme of records our good critic didn't listen to, this E.P. wasn't reviewed by White, it "accidentally on purpose" (they used that expression back in 1979?) ended up in the L.P. pile that Red Starr was tasked with. Impressing him far more than anything else this fortnight, he introduces the albums with this aside. While other early League singles "Being Boiled" (which came before this) and "Empire State Human" (later in the year) aren't all that far away from the commercial direction they'd famously take eighteen months later, the tracks that make up The Dignity of Labour are perhaps the most radical that Marsh, Ware and Oakey ever came up with — and you'd never see "Don't You Want Me" through all the Soviet-era cosmonauts and Politburo cheap cigarette smoke. How great were The Human League?
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