— Barry McIlheney
This issue of Smash Hits happened to come out on my tenth birthday. Hitting the double digits seemed to get me feeling more mature. I remember making a conscious decision at the time to stop calling my parents 'mummy' and 'daddy' and I began to feel the onset of puberty when my folks presented me with my first stick of deodorant (which, for some reason, was more their idea than mine). Boys my age began taking their lunch to school in brown paper bags and I followed suit, lunchboxes being very much a throwback to childhood. Always tall for my age, I was occasionally asked if I was older than my classmates, thereby making my one really striking feature something of a negative (did everyone think I was this giant dolt who'd been held back a couple grades?).
But I was still very much a child in other respects. I never missed Saturday afternoon wrestling on TV (or I'd tape it if I had basketball or swimming lessons), I still read comic books, still played with toys and still met the boys in my neighbourhood for street hockey. And sex was something I didn't want to think about. Pop songs weren't supposed to make me feel uncomfortable. Some of the boys at my school were really into a tune called "Boom Boom (Let's Go Back to My Room)" which they played on a (surprise, surprise) boom box and sang along with at full volume. I hated it — even more than I hated "I Want Your Sex".
(Nowadays I'm far less of a prude but I have another objection to the song: its wonky syntax. Sure, I Want Your Body, that's something people say. I Want to Have Sex, of course. But I Want Your Sex? Having a determiner in front of such an intangible concept is highly irksome. But I imagine I'm alone on this one, just as I find Eurythmics interchangable use of this and these in "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" irritating but which fails to bother anyone else that I've ever met)
When "I Want Your Sex" dropped in the spring of 1987, much of the hubbub surrounded its supposedly racy video. In truth, it was never that bad and the suggestive movements of bodies under silk sheets paled in comparison to the female frontal nudity in U2's promo for "With or Without You", which wasn't banned or placed only in late-night time slots. But I hadn't been aware that the song itself had been controversial, with an embargo on daytime play on the BBC's Radio 1. Again, this had been a lot of to do over very little. The explicit title masked what was a very responsible message of monogamy. With AIDS spreading and panic over the virus spinning madly out of control, you'd think a pop song all about enjoying rumpo with one person would have been welcome. Not that any of this bothered me in the slightest: sex was gross and singing about it was even more disgusting.
I've written on here previously about some of the ills of the 12" single. Basically, far too many of them were either pointlessly extended, had extras tacked on poorly or were given a lousy dance remix — or, indeed, some were subjected to all of the above. But my big problem with them as a boy was I had no time for anything over four minutes. Double that amount and I would have been seriously tempted to hit fast forward on my Walkman. Add on more and said artist would have been dead to me.
Nevertheless, "I Want Your Sex" makes a good case for length over brevity. Divided into three "rhythms", the so-called 'Monogamous Mix' clocks in at a protracted thirteen minutes but with each part serving a purpose. The first part ("Rhythm One: Lust") is the song that radio and TV mostly chose not to play — and is the section that Barry McIlheney is looking at here. The debt to Prince is obvious, especially in the verses that start with "I swear I won't tease you". It really shows you how overwhelming the Purple Perv's influence was over British music of the time when even a figure like George Michael wasn't immune. (He would tell Chris Heath that he no longer had any significant domestic competition and that the next move would be to take over America: he would be the last British pop star to talk over conquering the US without have the stench of hubris all over him)
As though the public hadn't missed much what with it being banned and all, the second part ("Rhythm Two: Brass in Love") is probably much more familiar, appearing on the soon-to-be-released debut solo album Faith (tipped in a June issue of ver Hits as possibly to be called Kissing a Fool) as well as the compilation Ladies & Gentlemen: The Best of George Michael. Why this middle section is so well-known is beyond me, being just a glorified breakdown. Sure, the funk grooves are well done and a clear indicator of Michael's facility with a tune but where's the song? Oh yeah, it was all left behind in the first part.
Well, mostly. The third and final section ("Rhythm Three: A Final Request") is much slower and more in line with seduction. You can practically smell the sandlewood oil burning as he plies his conquest with gin and tonics. Perhaps surprisingly, this part doesn't owe much to Prince and seems to be a genuine plea from Michael himself. I respect what he was trying to do here (and I appreciate his motivations behind the song in general) but I'm not crazy about the results. Having topped the British charts a year earlier with the reflective "A Different Corner" (vastly superior to "Careless Whisper" if you ask this particular blogger), it was clear that there could be a great deal of depth to his work. He could do better and he eventually would. He just had some growing up to do and he wasn't the only one.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Suzanne Vega: "Luka"
Yet another one that should have been SOTF, "Luka" is Suzanne Vega's biggest hit and signature song. While the narrative of child abuse is poignant, the undercurrent of the adult stranger helplessly trying to be there for a youngster who is depressingly bogged down in the reality of the situation ("Yes, I think I'm okay / I walked into the door again / If you ask that's what I'll say / It's not your business anyway") makes it even more touching. Vega's girlish, pixie-like vocals match the lovely melody and it makes me wonder just who is the naive innocent in this story. The "You just don't argue anymore" line is used a lot and it seems to hint more at spousal abuse than beating a child which makes me wonder if the song's roots were significantly different than what eventually came about. Even the eighties' production can't ruin such a fantastic single.
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