Donna Summer: "Bad Girls"

28 June 1979

"There was a time a few years back when I disliked Disco with a capital D; a time when Ms Summer was just starting to get hits and when, to me, she represented the very worst aspect of Disco. Times have changed, so have I, so has Disco music and so have Ms Summer's records."

— Cliff White

Being stuck under the weight of the Covid-19 crisis to cover concerts, The Guardian's music critics recently decided to put together a list of The 100 Greatest UK No 1s. They didn't do a bad job and I'm not just saying that because my favourite group came in first but there were some questionable choices. They were way too high on "You Spin Me Round" and "Billie Jean", too low on "Mouldy Old Dough" and "Telstar" and "Let's Dance" making it on at all is unforgivable given that the 'one single per artist rule' meant that the vastly superior "Ashes to Ashes" failed to make the list entirely. But, hey, these sorts of lists wouldn't be any good if they didn't piss people off.

In a very strong fourth place is Donna Summer with "I Feel Love". I didn't think it would come in quite so high but I figured it would stand a decent chance of cracking the top ten. It's one of those singles that's annoyingly cited for its importance at the expense of its astounding quality: if it somehow hadn't managed to influence generations of studio boffins and club DJs it would still be an amazing listening experience. I wasn't familiar with it growing up (the only Donna I ever heard was "She Works Hard for the Money" and "This Time I Know It's for Real", which happened to be my favourite song of all time during the spring of 1989) so I was surprised to hear something so ecstatic from just after my birth. The past never sounded so much like the future.

With that in mind, I would like to express how nice it would have been to quiz Cliff White further on his quotation above. Why did he have such a distaste for disco back in the day? What exactly made Donna Summer the representative of all that made it so foul? What happened that made him change his mind? What did her current batch of hits have that earlier efforts lacked? And, finally, did he consider "I Feel Love" to be the "very worst aspect of Disco"? Really?

Hindsight sees the disco boom as a brief period in the mid to late seventies. Weary funk, jazz and soul stars, some obscure gospel singers, a few pop groups of varying degrees of notoriety and performers from the underground gay circuit all cut records heavy on bass and gliding orchestras that had trim 7" mixes for radio and fuller 12" versions for the clubs and a phenomenon was born. Then it died away four years later when an idiot shock jock blew them all up at a baseball game in Chicago. The records were often great but there was nothing remotely progressive about them. "I Feel Love" and its sultry 1975 predecessor "Love to Love You Baby" were forward thinking records but she and collaborators Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte would soon settle into a very successful formula.

Summer became an albums artist for a time before she hit her commercial peak with "Hot Stuff" and "Bad Girls" in the summer of 1979. This is also the apogee of her American sound. "I Feel Love" and some of her early records came while she was based in Germany but waning interest in her adopted homeland and increasing prominence across the Atlantic resulted in Summer, Moroder and Bellotte basing themselves in the States. Without the presence of Kraftwerk, Bowie and Eno's Berlin period, ABBA at their best and perhaps even the vigour of punk energy as influences, her work became much more R&B and gospel based. It's hard to imagine her brave but still lousy take on "MacArthur Park" resulting from a session in Munich.

This American period was not without its benefits. Rather than having programmed synths to rely on, Summer is joined by some crack musicianship (though some of them were Europeans as well), fantastic backing singers and even nifty studio effects to flesh out the sound of "Bad Girls". The forward-thinking musical minds may have originated on the Continent but the state-of-the-art recording facilities were still in America. This sassy record is the product of a team at team at the top of their game, one that was more than happy to take advantage of being a worldwide "mover" but one not as inclined to experiment.

I don't wish to besmirch a single as good as "Bad Girls" and it's probably just White's view that makes me want to be such a contrary bugger. It's a big improvement on the gauche "Hot Stuff" and doesn't let up for a moment, especially on the 12" version (which he recommends; I like the fact that a record that clocks in at just under five minutes would be the "extended" mix). And, to be fair, White may not have even been referring to "I Feel Love" as the "very worst aspect of Disco". More than the genre, Ms. Summer, even ver times, he has changed. He should've gone back and given her early stuff a fresh listen, he might have given it the revaluation it deserved.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Chic: "Good Times"

"Ah yes, a hit," writes White. "I can hear it in the hand claps, bass line and correct quantity of beats per minute". Yeah, even a Chic fan like myself has to admit they could be a bit clinical. (Odd that a group formed by jazz sessioners that couldn't make things a bit more spontaneous) "Gormless song," he continues. Okay, it doesn't exactly fill the listener's mind with ideas and the little point there is gets hammered "home". I get the feeling our Cliff isn't so keen on this one. He even reckons that the vocalists must have an "unnerving affliction, as if they're being prodded in the chest while they sing." Well, the singers were never what drew people to Chic and it was only when they began improving that part of their game that their popularity began falling off, well, a cliff. But with "Good Times" they enjoyed that monster hit he could easily see coming. But thanks for ruining Chic for me, Cliff.

It's Immaterial: "Driving Away from Home (Jim's Tune)"

26 March 1986

"It's a little ridiculous of course, but there has to be some hope for a group who manage to mention the M62 in a song."

— William Shaw

It's less than a year since a quirky British pop act took on the American road trip song and we already have a copy cat. Paddy McAloon wrote "Faron Young" as a take on using US cultural references to inform the working classes of the UK. As previously blogged a few months' back, how is a British truck driver expected to find a connection to his roots and his occupation via the medium of a country and western ballad? How are we to presuppose that even Americans have this type of association? 

"Faron Young" is an excellent song (though probably still the weakest of the four taken from their masterwork Steve McQueen) but its message is muddied by seemingly paying too much of a debt to Americana, even while acknowledging that McAloon knows little about it. It may question country music as a relevant cultural touchstone in Britain but it doesn't make a mockery of it nor do they even give it a fond and gentle send up. There may be humour hidden in there somewhere but it's not especially easy to find. Good thing It's Immaterial were around to give the British car song some much needed levity and irony.

"Driving Away from Home (Jim's Tune)" isn't about truck drivers but it is a road song and one as distinctly British as "Faron Young" — if not more so, given that it refuses to get caught up in all things America. Having rejected an early attempt at recording the song in Wisconsin with Jerry Harrison of Talking Heads due to not being keen to do a "pastiche of a country and western track", It's Immaterial's John Campbell and Jarvis Whitehead returned to Britain to do it in a much more modern style. While a fifties, "Ghost Riders in the Sky" feel is present, it shares space with an impressionistic, synth sound. And this was more than three years before Depeche Mode did their part in merging Hank Williams with Gary Numan.

William Shaw has "Driving Away from Home" as his Single of the Fortnight but he kind of undersells it a little. While rationally speaking the entire concept of going on a road trip and suggesting places they go to (which keep getting farther and father away, though the video takes it to even more exotic locales with images of Tokyo, Shanghai, Bangkok and Canberra to close it out) with oddball asides isn't exactly conventional pop song material, it works as a performance. Mostly because it's sung from the perspective of a passenger who really doesn't give a toss about the concerns of whoever's driving.

Campbell tells Tom Hibbert in the 23 April edition of Smash Hits that he never does "any of the driving". (Significantly, he's the only member of the foursome in the promo not to appear behind the wheel) He doesn't have the responsibility of being in control of a car and so he has license to throw out suggestions for where they'd like to go. Accounts of the song describe him as giving directions but he keeps changing his mind about where they should go, so he may just be stressing out his poor chauffeur. First, he has them go around Merseyside before he points out that they could head down to Manchester ("that's my birthplace, you know"). But, hey, why don't we go someplace a bit farther away? Newcastle perhaps? Maybe Glasgow? It'll be a sinch ("all you've got to do is put your foot down hard on the floor", "I mean, after all it's just a road"). 

My tone here may make it sound like I dislike the song or find Campbell's attitude off-putting or something but nothing could be further from the truth. "Driving Away from Home" is a superlative single, unique and exceptionally crafted. Campbell sits back and relaxes with his carefree narrative (he is even seen chuckling to himself in the terrific video) into a song that drivers might find irritating while being played on the car stereo but which ought to be sung along with by those of us backseat drivers. I say "us" as a non-driver myself, appreciating that at last there's a road song for life's shotgun riders. The people who help with directions, talk endlessly while our companions are focused on driving, might chip in with gas money (if we feel like it) and are convinced that the road trip wouldn't be the same without us. It struck enough of a chord with the public to give "Itsy" their lone hit single and one that is fondly remembered to this day — by driver and passenger alike.

~~~~~

Also of some cop

Big Audio Dynamite: "E=MC²"

"...I bet The Clash feel really stupid now," concludes Shaw's review. It's possible but I'm sure their fans were simply outraged as always. They had a great debut album but then followed it up with the rockist Give 'Em Enough Rope (produced by an American heavy metal musician, which would not do at all). London Calling was probably acceptable (ignoring much of the filler on disc 2) but then the wildly all over the place Sandinista! only pissed them off further and then they went all pop on Combat Rock and the (supposed) Only Band That Mattered had finally gone too far. But they never got over it. Mick Jones' comeback with B.A.D. couldn't hope to match up to what his previous organization did at their best but this was probably still the finest Clash-related single since "The Magnificent Seven". A nice complement to what fellow erstwhile punk John Lydon had been up to with PiL, "E=MC²" is filled with energy straight out of the spirit of '76 but with synths and hooks and Donald Sutherland in the vid and everything. Jones has the last laugh — if not at the expense of The Clash then at least at their hardcore fans.

The Pogues: Poguetry in Motion

12 March 1986

"The ever-wonderous Pogues move on!"

— Sylvia Patterson

Chris Heath and William Shaw were already on board by this time so the Smash Hits staff that I became familiar with in 1988 was beginning to form. Still, I'm not sure either of them needed a job at a top pop mag to launch their writing careers nearly as much as Sylvia Patterson. Without getting the call from ver Hits she might never have gotten out of the Scottish provinces. Dundee's loss was pop journalism's gain.

In early '86, however, she's young and wet behind ver ears and, she admits in her excellent autobiography I'm Not with the Band, "didn't have a clue" what she was doing. So besotted was she by the sex "appeal" of Mick Hucknall that she personally delivered an issue with him on the cover to him in Edinburgh — only to get the brush off from the most sex-obsessed pop star of his generation. But this devotion, spirit and love for the singers and musicians she wrote for helped make her such a brilliant critic.

But she's yet to come out of her shell in the spring of this year. Her reviews are thoughtfully considered and well written but far from what we would come to expect in the years ahead. She was already up on some of the Hits jargon and liberal use of inverted commas but you can sense she's not quite comfortable. She coos over some faves (The Pogues, obviously, but also The Stones and Tom Waits) but isn't quite ready to spit all over the records she doesn't rate. She'll get there.

The Pogues are so well-remembered for their great 1987 Christmas carol "Fairytale of New York" that few know anything else by them anymore. But while Eurythmics enjoyed a decade of Top 10 action, Shane MacGowan's crew only had a small number of hit singles, so the fact that one of their numbers touched such a nerve is impressive. And, happily, it isn't one that relies too much on being a tedious drinking song from the Emerald Isle. Poguetry in Motion is their first material that takes them away from their (supposed) Irish roots.

Opening with the striking "London Girl", The Pogues make either a deliberate or unintentional claim to the territory of an increasingly irrelevant Dexys Midnight Runners. There's a definite Celtic sound but one that's augmented by nods to pop, punk and soul. Shane MacGowan's strung out, Joe Strummer-esque vocals make him a perfect anti-blue eyed soulman heir to Kevin Rowland. The song is a great way to kick off the E.P. and a document of what a terrific live group they were supposed to be.

But like Rowland before him, MacGowan had a tender side and he never showed it off better than on "A Rainy Night in Soho" which follows "London Girl". Reflective of a drunken night of clarity wandering home (in the rain, presumably) and realising that life isn't quite working out, it's a wonder he didn't hold it over to close out the entire E.P. Indeed, The Pogues were moving on — at least to some extent. So, yeah, Patterson's right. The Pogues are pretty mega. And there's so much more to them than just all that faux-Irish stuff. Yeah, about that...

A flip of the record and suddenly you're in a prefab Irish pub in Edmonton, Seattle or Gili Trawangan that has "Irish nachos" on the menu and female servers with socks up to their knees. The kind of sound (and just the sort of place) that you're certain must be this authentic because how could they fake it? Celtic music isn't my cup of tea but I'd certainly sooner listen to The Chieftains or The Irish Descendants doing what they do best than The Pogues going through the motions with it. The two tracks on the flip are played with customary enthusiasm but to what end? I guess "The Body of an American" and the instrumental "Planxty Noel Hill" would have appealed to their hardcore fanbase — people, it would seem, with little interest in seeing them move on.

Given their connections to Irish music and songs like "The Body of an American" and, indeed, "Fairytale of New York", it's probably understandable that The Pogues would be so identified with Ireland and even Irish-Americans. But they were very much more a London thing — despite band members coming from towns like Pembury, Eastbourne and Dorset but they're close enough, right — and the first side of Poguetry in Motion really captures being down and out dirtbags in the British capital far more beautifully than anything they could do set in Dublin or New York. The purists were probably cross but when aren't they?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Rolling Stones: "Harlem Shuffle"

They had their psychedelic phase on Their Majesty's Satanic Request, they went glam on Goat's Head Soup and did a kind of New York disco-punk thing on Some Girls, so ver Stones should have gone indie on Dirty Work, their Steve Lillywhite-produced 1986 album. Or perhaps not. Mick, Keef and the others are always at their best when they just sound like themselves and rarely during a trying decade did they sound as good as on "Harlem Shuffle". They hadn't released a cover version as a single in over twenty years but the change did them some good, especially since the bulk of the originals on Dirty Work are rubbish. But I hope Our Syl enjoyed the "incredibly brilliant" video because I sure didn't.

Squeeze: "Up the Junction"

14 June 1979

"Funnily enough, the story line of this cleverly detailed song is just the sort of domestic drama that romantics usually write about. But Squeeze take it on the chin and find irony and humour in the situation."

— Cliff White

Comparisons with The Beatles are a potential landmine. If just bringing them up isn't already a cliche then it's beset with simply living up to the comparison. I really liked Oasis in 1995 but even as a high school student I knew that labelling them "the next Beatles" was lazy, pointless, stupid and nothing but a turn off for anyone who was new to them. Claiming that the Gallaghers were as potent a force as Lennon and McCartney only made Oasis seem like less of a big deal and it was easy to see they didn't have talent nor the smarts to pull it off and they clearly didn't have their fingers on the pulse of current pop in anywhere close to the same way.

But the situation may have been a tad different back in 1979. The Fab Four had been passe for much of the seventies so comparing them with an emerging new wave band may have had more modest aims: look, a songwriting partnership just like John and Paul! As if almost cryptically, Cliff White says Squeeze are already on par with The Beatles while adding in parenthesis "I hope that isn't taken as an insult". Oh for the days when being likened to pop's standard bearers could be interpreted as insulting.

I've had my problems with Squeeze over the years. While I've admired some of their work, I keep finding myself focusing on what annoys me about them. In truth, it mostly comes down to "In Quintessence", the opening track from their fourth album East Side Story. Spinning a tale of a lad who reckons he knows it all yet knows absolutely nothing, who thinks he's God's gift to women yet is repulsive to the opposite sex, there's something unlikable about the way they brush this character off so heartlessly. There's cod psychology when they should have tried for a bit of empathy. I listen to now and side with the layabout they're ripping into. If you ask me the members of Squeeze are much bigger prats.

But their character sketch songs weren't always so nasty. Chris Difford wrote and Glenn Tilbrook sang "Up the Junction" in the first person but it feels too much like the novel, TV play and film that it may have been based on to be a personal account. The jolly tune doesn't mask a pitiful story since there's little self-pity involved ("I'd beg for some forgiveness but begging's not my business", also one of many great lines and a reminder that Difford could pen some spot on verse taking the mickey out of young people for kicks) but there's some real heartbreak nonetheless. Happily, matters don't get bogged down in cleverness: the awkward, pseudo-rhymes ("I got a job with Stanley, he said I'd come in handy", "she said she'd seen a doctor, and nothing now could stop her") give it a pleasant naturalness, with the urgency to get these feelings down outstripping form. How very clever of them to dumb things down a bit.

It's easy to get caught up in the clever verses and words that don't quite rhyme but "Up the Junction" is also a perfect example of just what a tight unit Squeeze were. The music, being very much in the mould of rocks pub and punk (I've always been convinced they fall into the pub rock scene but perhaps they were simply pub-adjacent), is low on flash but they get everything out of Tilbrook's bouncy composition. Fantastic band interplay with only Jools Holland, less the dapper and jovial host of everything musical telly and more the kind of can't be arsed keyboardist that bands used to employ, out to prove he's a star.

The public were delighted enough that they gifted Squeeze their second number two hit on the bounce following "Cool for Cats" back in March of the same year. This impressive run failed to translate into a sustained imperial period with bookend singles "Goodbye Girl" and "Slap and Tickle" only performing modestly and the Cool for Cats album stalling outside the Top 40. A number of new wave acts — Blondie, The Jam, Madness, Gary Numan, The Police — at around this time enjoyed hit singles that carried them into further success in the eighties but Squeeze weren't able to pull off a similar feat. Punters who were charmed and/or touched by their two big hits didn't necessarily go any further and I can't say I blame them. Sure, the Cool for Cats-Argybargy-East Side Story run of albums is first rate and their entire back catalog is well worth exploring but there are doses of smarminess to deal with as well as the aching feeling that they just know they're the cleverest guys in the room. 

But not here, not on "Up the Junction". Their smarts don't get in the way of tenderness, the loving portrait of domestic ups and downs not being so precious that it's free of being made fun of. A perfect balance of closeness and distance, of comedy and sorrow, it makes for a perfect three-minute pop song. Those Beatles comparisons were spot on, if only just this once.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Sandy McLelland & The Backline: "Can We Still Be Friends"

Something during the summer of '79 was sure making Cliff White feeling sentimental. A fortnight after being reduced to tears by "Easy Come, Easy Go" by The Sutherland Brothers, he's similarly moved by Sandy McLelland's cover of the Todd Rundgren hit from Hermit of Mink Hollow. While it's possible things have changed an awful lot in the forty years since, I always assumed that girls always wanted to remain friends at the end of a relationship and I suspect this song's writer thinks so too. The Runt gives it a quivering reading with just a hint that he's sending up the screwed up priorities of his newly ex. (It's inappropriate to be fixated on shifting into friendship mode as soon as things go south, right?) Or maybe the original just gives the listener whatever it wants to hear — though not so much with this remake. McLelland pleads and only manages to come across as one of those pathetic guys who is convinced that friendship is the perfect gateway back in. The song itself is quite faithful to the original just lacking any trace of irony. And there I was thinking that Americans were the earnest ones.

Siouxsie & The Banshees: "Candyman"

26 February 1986 (and here)

"She sings with a lot of sex — that's what I like."

— Dave Gahan

Yes, I know. The lead singer from Depeche Mode is all about sex — my mind is blown too. All that S & M gear and songs about nasty bedroom role play and taking your clothes off. Still, at least he's keeping clear of the hard drugs...for now.

Dave Gahan has returned to review the singles, having previously done so almost two years earlier. In that time much has changed: the blond streaks have been grown out, his band has become much darker and pervier and the magazine is much glossier and its assistant editor from a year earlier is now on the cover. There are also a lot fewer singles up for consideration this time round. Where Gahan gave his thoughts on no fewer than twenty-seven brand new records back in 1984, he's only had to deal with fourteen here in '86. Then again, he seems to have much more to say here, a contrast to the brief rundowns given last time.

While he was largely unfamiliar with previous pick Cocteau Twins, he has opted for a longtime favourite this time ("I used to go and see them quite a lot when I was younger, when I was a punk rocker"). In both cases, however, he's found himself going with something pretty run-of-the-mill. In my write-up on "Pearly-Dewdrops' Drops", I mention that there are better Twins numbers from around this time (including "Lorelei" which I am still shocked to discover was never a single); in Siouxsie's case it's even more apparent. "Candyman" was their thirteenth Top 40 hit and is from their seventh album so they'd been around a while. (And, you know, once a band is past their fourth or fifth album they've probably peaked creatively) In isolation, much of the material from Tinderbox seems first rate but it pales a bit alongside some of their earlier LPs. Similarly, "Candyman" is a strong enough single on its own (though not so strong that it couldn't get past number thirty-four on the charts) but doesn't really standout compared to the likes of "Hong Kong Garden", "Christine" and "Swimming Horses". This isn't to fault Gahan's taste since he had the records he had and picked what he liked and that's fair enough. It's just a pity that the best stuff isn't featured in this space. At least not yet.

But Gahan also acknowledges that they had a "formula" and it wasn't something they were about to abandon now. (You could argue that the Siouxsie-Budgie extracurricular project The Creatures was their attempt to stretch themselves out a bit) I think we tend to do mental word association with the term 'formulaic', picturing cookie-cutter pop acts, interchangeable Vegas lounge singers and Status Quo, but it may apply to even the coolest of indie groups. And why not? If you had a charismatic singer with a distinctive voice, a powerful drummer and an underrated guitarist with a sound all his own you might also want to keep dishing up the same intriguing and haunting post-punk goth rock that no one else is capable of. It's not exactly my kind of thing but I can definitely understand the appeal. Personally, though, I prefer when the formula is avoided or dispensed with. When Banshee allies The Cure began ditching goth in favour of a broader stylistic approach they came up with "The Lovecats" and "The Caterpillar" and The Top — and a poppier sound remained in much of their best work from then on. A shame Siouxie never bothered doing something similar but hats off to them for doing what they did best.

So, "Candyman" is a by-numbers Banshee track but a worthy one nonetheless. For Siouxsie to tackle the subject of child abuse is commendable and for her to do so with "a lot of sex" in her voice is particularly bold. Being a part of the "formula" this is nothing new for her but the clash with the song's subject matter is a decision not everyone would make. A year earlier The Smiths' "Suffer Little Children" had caused controversy by depicting the victims of the notorious Moors murders in a supposedly insensitive light — and Morrissey sang it in his typically glum fashion. Presumably, Siouxsie isn't recounting an actual tale of paedophilia and isn't naming anyone but her sensual voice (with childlike "na na-na, na na-na" that bring to mind Kate Bush) could easily have caused offense. It didn't and a good thing too since it was the right choice. I like to think that Siouxsie is trying to lure this disgusting loser: how about instead of going after some poor little kids you follow me and I'll show you something about sensuality. The woman who "sings with sex" really taking one for the team.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Kate Bush: "Hounds of Love"

For such an all-conquering album of the decade, the Hounds of Love album never managed to deliver the truck-load of giant hit singles that it deserved to. This, the title track, did manage to outperform its better-remembered predecessor "Cloudbusting" but even so its Top 20 placing seems disappointing. Oh well, I'm not one of those 'buy the single and the album' types so why should I retroactively lecture the punters on their consumer choices. Managing to get more out of a cello than Jeff Lynne ever did, this song sneaks up on the listener with poignant lyrics and subtle musical touches that grab one's attention and grows into an epic sound experience — and all in a very swift three minutes. Even alongside the eleven other great songs on her peerless masterpiece, "Hounds of Love" is an extraordinary work.

Power: "Soul in My Shoes"

12 February 1986

"Pounding white soul music, what it lacks in lyrical variety (the line "I've got soul in my shoes" must be repeated at least 30 times) it makes up for with sheer driving energy."

— Simon Braithwaite

I'm not sure if it's a cliche just yet but it's worth mentioning that while eighties pop stars may not have cut the best records, they certainly had great record collections. Ideally, they would have had grandparents with fragile old Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller discs, their folks would have had some Elvis and Beatles and their older brothers and sisters would have collected glam and punk singles. Of course few would have been lucky enough to have had all of that good stuff passed down to them but certainly they benefited from there being an awful lot out there. It isn't the glut of product that we have today but it sure beats relying on those very generous Scouse sailors to keep you in new music.

Richard Jackman and Mark Lewis formed Power in Liverpool in the early eighties and they had a wealth of references to play with. Most obviously, they had the Northern soul boom of the seventies, which is very much the backbone of the decade's pop. They were by no means the first UK act to show their debt to Edwin Starr and Geno Washington; just on this blog we've already dealt with Dexys Midnight Runners, Roman Holliday and Simply Red. But it's in 1986 that it all becomes much more polished.

One of the chief criticisms of eighties white soul is that it's too smooth. Groups and studio staff could do a decent job aping the craft of old school black music but the singers never seemed to possess the grit of Otis Redding or Sam Cooke. They loved their records but they could never quite mimic them nor did they have the desire to do so. We are, after-all, just a year away from the rise of Johnny Hates Jazz and Wet Wet Wet, acts who achieved huge sales but who could never get beyond the gloss.

But, then, what choice did they have? "Soul in My Shoes" demonstrates the folly of so-called 'soulcialism' because Power end up sounding even less convincing by trying to be gritty and street tough. Where previous single "Work Hard" had been an adequate stab at catchy soul-pop, this comes across as trying too hard. Simon Braithwaite doesn't care for "I've got soul in my shoes" being repeated so often but I'd like to know what it means. Is it just a pathetic pun? There's another oft-repeated line ("black girl, white boy") and together they amount to the bulk of the song's lyrics. So, White Boy is having trouble impressing Black Girl and his "black" bona fides don't amount to a hell of a lot but, he takes the trouble to point out, he does have "soul" in his shoes. Yeah, that'll get her. It's a curious admission to make: I'm a painfully white guy who can't express myself but at least I've got soul covering my feet. Not something you'd expect from a soul revivalist.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Brilliant: "Love Is War"

Co-composed by Youth, Jimmy Cauty and Stock Aitken Waterman (as well as someone called June Montana who happened to be Brilliant's vocalist), you might expect "Love Is War" to sound like the love-child of Killing Joke, The KLF and Rick Astley. (I didn't expect it myself but you might) No, it isn't quite that good and, in fact, it's not close to being that good. Just very typical dance-pop of the era that no longer had that exciting New York club feel to it. Not the grittiest music this fortnight but, then again, 1986 was hardly the gritttiest year.