The Bureau: "Let Him Have It"

28 May 1981

"The lads, and especially Archie Brown's throaty vocals (so much better than Kevin Rowland's strangled whining) prove that a band can be gritty, tuneful and fun."

— Steve Bush

It was far from common practice at this early stage so Steve Bush shouldn't be faulted for failing to pick a Single of the Fortnight in this issue of Smash Hits. He's hardly the first but he stands above his contemporaries in not even managing to hint at having a favourite in the batch. There are a handful that he certainly seems to have enjoyed — Kid Creole sideman Coati Mundi's "Me No Pop I" has "some of this year's finest lyrics", a reissue of Can's sole Top 30 hit "I Want More" is a "refreshing 'instrumental'" with "tinges of the Oriental and some great hammy organ bits" (though the three-and-a-half minute single does "go on too long"), Nautyculture's "Someday Sunday" mixes "reggae influences with Undertones' poppyness" — without really going too far in his praise. Oh, what I am to do?

I considered half-a-dozen singles before settling on the one I initially had in mind way back when I drew up a list of early SOTF. The Bureau's second (and final, as it would turn out) 45 seems to be the one that gave the most pleasure to Bush and I feel confident in stating that he's probably listened to it at least a handful of times in the forty years since. Can't necessarily say the same for the others so that seals it!

Dexys Midnight Runners had been a group whose lineup would not stop changing. Their well-known penchant radically altering their look (from dockside gangsters to boxing sparring partners to grubby urchins in dungarees and, finally, to preppies on the golf course — and so on into Kevin Rowland's solo career) was only matched by the shifting number of Runners that, er, ran with them. They had only just had the faintest glimpse of success with debut single "Dance Stance" (aka "Burn It Down") and two of their original members were gone. Good on them to get into the swing of constant firings and resignations right from the off.

Weathering the changes, Dexys enjoyed a strong 1980. "Geno" was a surprise chart topping single in the UK, "There, There My Dear" was an exceptional hit in its own right and album Searching for the Young Soul Rebels was a solid candidate for album of the year. Did this bring about a period of stability? Not with Kevin Rowland was charge. The only thing that remained the same was their state of flux.

It was at this point that The Bureau emerged — and with it inevitable comparisons to Dexys themselves. Rowland's voice lent character to their best work but he was never the best singer. As Bush suggests, Archie Brown's vocals are much easier on the ear, even if it still may not be to everyone's tastes. (Their first single "Only for Sheep" is musically more interesting than "Let Him Have It" but it struggles behind the singing which sounds better suited to an oddball mix of Rowland, Mark E. Smith and Mick Jagger; Daniela Soave, writing in that week's Record Mirror, prefers their second single much more in part due to giving Brown something that worked well with his vocal chops) With four former members of Dexys spearheading this new group, including sax players Geoff Blythe and Steve Spooner, it was inevitable that the two acts would have their similarities; it's just a pity there isn't much to differentiate them.

Effortlessness could be one difference though. The Bureau were solid. They were all very good at what they did. You'd enjoy seeing them play at a small club. But there's nothing remotely compelling about them. Rowland had that facility as a frontman. He could alienate his bandmates but fans were captivated by him. They were soon to return with the Top 20 hit "Show Me". It borrowed liberally from Motown and Northern Soul yet seemed fresh; "Let Him Have It" sounds too much like a throwback and not simply to sixties' black pop. It also has a little too much of new wave and pub rock about it. And where's the humour? Rowland's Young Soul Rebels/Projected Passion shtick could get tired but at least there's irony hidden away in some of his songs.

British blue-eyed soul tended to take itself seriously and it was only those who were able to get around the earnestness who ended up either getting somewhere creatively or making a splash with the public (or, ideally, both). The rest were mostly left behind, no matter the band's competence. To wit. "Let Him Have It" is a perfectly good single that one can enjoy in the moment, even if nothing of it stays with the listener once it has stopped. The finest Dexys records (some had already been released, others would be on their way within the year) managed to stick with people. Bush isn't wrong, The Bureau could be "gritty, tuneful and fun" But affecting, intriguing and memorable? I'll take the guy who wanted to "Burn It Down", thank you so much.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Pigbag: "Papa's Got a Brand New Pigbag"

Yet another new release that Bush doesn't like quite enough to gush over but I will. The young lions of UK soul ran in parallel with the brief jazz/samba boom and Pigbag came close to bridging to the two together. That earworm refrain obscures the fact that there were some crazy good soloists in this unit, the sort of players who revered Ornette Coleman and Stan Getz in equal messure. The likes of Blue Rondo à la Turk and Modern Romance could get overly slick but it's avoided here. It took time for "Papa's Got a Brand New Pigbag" to catch on but Paul Weller must've been listening at this stage because he had borrowed the tune for use on the underrated Jam song "Precious" prior to this single's long overdue chart run. Pigbag weren't technically one-hit wonders but this is the only thing they're remembered for. A novelty hit but one that had plenty more to offer.

Jimi Hendrix: "Crosstown Traffic"

21 March 1990

"This absolutely corking number, nothing to do with jeans in lyrical content, must be played as loud as possible whilst you practise your super Air Guitar licks in front of the mirror."

— Sian Pattenden

The nineties had gotten off to a slow start but at least the music was beginning to improve. After five straight reviews with average-to-poor Singles of the Fortnight, it's nice to encounter a genuinely great record headlining. And Jimi Hendrix isn't alone. Also reviewed by Sian Pattenden this issue is a terrific Morrissey single, the epic "November Spawned a Monster", and "Real Real Real" an uncharacteristically strong offering from Jesus Jones (and see below for yet another excellent new release). In addition, David Bowie and Madonna are present. Neither of them have especially brilliant singles (the Dame's 1990 version of old classic "Fame" was a lousy way to promote his otherwise superb Changesbowie compilation; Madonna's "Vogue" is decent even if (a) it isn't close to as great as people say and (b) it worryingly kicked off the 'clever Madonna' period which coincides with me losing interest in her) but they're here nonetheless. Most of the rest are of little consequence which makes putting The Cure's "Pictures of You", UB40's "Kingston Town", Adamski's "Killer" and Janet Jackson's "Escapade in the Also Released This Fortnight section an unforgivable error. A solid fortnight though and a sign that pop was on the mend.

The early nineties was just about the last time that it was a bit sad to listen to old music. If you were into to The Beatles back then it was vaguely embarrassing. Pop songs from just a year earlier would've been dismissed as being "old". But with the rise of oldies radio and millions of Baby Boomers buying up favourites from their younger days on CD, it was impossible to completely avoid stuff from the sixties and seventies but there certainly wasn't any need for us to seek it out. Especially since so much of it kept popping up on TV commercials.

As Tom Ewing has pointed out, "if Levi's Jeans advertisers counted as a single artist they would have six Number Ones", a total that would outpace David Bowie and Britney Spears, among others. Classics such as Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" and The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go" did far better as a result of appearing in adverts for denim than they did when the acts that recorded them were in their respective primes. But what about Wrangler jeans, very much the Pepsi to Levi's Coke? A stone cold classic by a rock 'n' roll legend not even managing to squeak its way into the Top 60? Yeah, that sounds about right. 501 jeans could make a hit but boot cut nut-huggers worn by American stock car racers? Nah!

Jimi Hendrix wasn't your typical classic rock star — either that or he was the most typical rock star. He oozed talent. He died young (crucially, he also didn't live long enough for everyone to see him decline). He never failed to look cool. Not conventionally handsome yet the sort of person you couldn't look away from. There was an aura about him. He also happened to transcend tastes and perhaps more so in the nineties than when he was still alive. Metalheads and rock fans could appreciate his incredible guitar playing; those of us more inclined towards the pop end of the spectrum could still enjoy the tunes and we understood there was much more to him than being an ax god. Everyone knew that Hendrix was cool even if we'd never dare touch anything else connected to oldies rock.

Wrangler jeans commercial or not, it's strange that "Crosstown Traffic" didn't do better in 1990.

Its lack of success is mirrored by its relative failure back in 1968. While his extraordinary early singles "Hey Joe", "Purple Haze" and "The Wind Cries Mary" were all Top 10 hits in Britain in the first half of 1967, the fate of later records was much more mixed. His brilliant and influential cover of Bob Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower" was another big hit but third album Electric Ladyland was meant to place him among the more serious faction of rockers who cared less and less about the pop charts. As if in acknowledgement of this, fans stayed away from the LP's second single for the most part. Hendrix wasn't exactly in the midst of an imperial period but his discs were supposed to do better than number 37.

This lack of chart success hides the fact that it's a perfectly fine offering and one that should have appealed to more. It lacks the explosive magic of "Purple Haze" and the dynamics of "Watchtower" but "Crosstown Traffic" is punchy, the tune is great and who can possibly resist Hendrix's makeshift kazoo? In some ways, it is actually a cross between his '67 acid rock British sound and the upcoming hard rock/funk American period that he would follow to the end of his life. I prefer the early phase but I'll happily admit that he needed to make a change as psychedelic music was fading away. Perhaps it's too much of a transitional work (not showy enough for the acid freaks, too pop for the rock crowd) and, again, it isn't quite Premiership-level Hendrix but it deserved to do better in both the sixties and nineties.

Finally, it's worth pointing out that this singles review is full of errors. (Well, there are two that I spotted anyway) The Jimi Hendrix Experience (the rhythm section of Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell got so little credit to begin with) did not release a single called "Downtown Traffic", nor did A Tribe Called Quest do a rap known as "Public Enemy", just as Public Enemy have never had a number called "A Tribe Called Quest". Nothing against Sian Pattenden, who happens to be one of my favourite Smash Hits reviewers from the era, but I suspect that the editorial standards from the days of Mark Ellen and Steve Bush were beginning to slacken somewhat. The decline of Smash Hits wasn't far off and it's easy to blame the increasingly bland pop scene (as well as the stratifying that occurred between pop and rock a year later) but the keen editorial eye may have also played a part in the gradual fall of a once top pop mag.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

A Tribe Called Quest: "Pubic Enemy"

As Sian Pattenden says, this is one of those ubiquitous hip hop 'message' songs but one that it's still possible to enjoy even if said message is oblivious to the listener. She credits De La Soul wee bit too much (this single owes at least as much to Erik B & Rakim) but that's probably down to the context of how Posdnuos, Turgoy and Maseo had changed hip hop so radically a year earlier. Anything remotely quirky was destined to get lumped into the same bag of trendy hippie rap. Of course, ver Tribe were happy to ride along as part of that scene. Still, a great single about AIDS and STDs that doesn't come across as overly preachy and is a fun listen. What more could they have done?

Jungle Brothers: "What U Waitin' 4" / Sly & Robbie: "Dance Hall"

7 March 1990

"It sounds a bit like "Superstitious" by Stevie Wonder. That doesn't matter though because it works and it isn't blatant."

— Ian Morgan

"My pants were shaking in the seat. I nearly fell over they were shaking that much."

— Andy Pickles

I'm generally no fan of pop stars reviewing the singles but I do understand why Smash Hits went to that well from time-to-time. (By 1990 they had become far too common with three of the first five issues being without a proper music critic) It made for a welcome change and allowed for guests to give their own opinions, something the readers were interested in. Also, it was a chance for pop types to appear in the magazine and not be asked questions like "What colour is Tuesday?" or "Have you ever grown cress in the mouth of a hippopotamus?" Win-win.

Pop stars. Individuals who cut pop records, have hits with them and become famous. They may have only taken the briefest of spins on that giddy carousel (Paul King, Sigue Sigue Sputnik, Brother Beyond) or they sat upon a pony for so long that they got dizzy and ended up getting sick in a gum boot (George Michael, Boy George, John Taylor) but either way they were all pop stars. Not so much in this case though. While Ian Morgan and Andy Pickles were partially responsible for some of the most successful, if also creatively bankrupt, pop of the period, they were not widely known to the public. They were part of a "group" called the Mastermixers who were "fronted" by the anthropomorphic character Jive Bunny.

As pop fans, we may seek out information about producers, songwriters and engineers if we are so inclined but it is seldom necessary. Does knowledge of Phil Spector matter or is it only of importance that "Be My Baby", "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" and "Instant Karma" are great records? Mr. Back to Mono (even if he hadn't murdered anyone I find it impossible to think of him as anything but a great, big douche) fashioned himself into a defacto pop star due to his inflated ego but his productions would have been just as good if we hadn't known about them. The same goes for Joe Meek, Spector's English counterpart. During the late-eighties, Mike Stock, Matt Aitken and Pete Waterman became increasingly visible due to their highly successful run of hits and the trio were often interviewed on TV. They became almost as famous as the members of their stable but, again, no one needed to know anything about them.

Smash Hits readers do not need this guest singles review. It would not have peaked the interests of fans — Jive Bunny fans probably didn't even care. Number One magazine would have doubtless chosen to go the low road by having the rabbit give picks of his own but to be fair that also would've been the logical choice to have made. If anyone was a pop star in that organization it was the Bunny, not the blokes behind it. Who were Morgan and Pickles? Who cares?

A pair of hip hop numbers are co-Singles of the Fortnight in this issue of ver Hits. I've been listening to them regularly over the past week and I'm amazed how little of these two songs have stayed with me. The beats? Nope, can't remember 'em. Some of their rhymes? Nah. Choruses? I'm not sure either of them even have choruses. In the early part of 1990 I was closing in on my teens so I should've been the perfect age for rap music but these records only manage to remind me of why the majority of it was lost on me.

That's not to say they're both terrible singles that had no business being anyone's SOTF. "What U Waitin' 4" is spirited and good fun when I'm listening to it even if nothing in it makes me want to come back for more. After being at the frontier of hip house with their influential "I'll House You" in 1988 (their raps on top of the stunning "Can You Party" by Todd Terry project Royal House), the Jungle Brothers evolved into more of a standard rap group a year later and it's as if they were still finding their way. It's a fine if unmemorable number but they were clearly capable of better. The video looks like a lot of fun though.

I'm not crazy about it but "What U Waitin' 4" is the standout of the two records present. "Dance Hall" by renowned Jamaican rhythm section/production team Sly & Robbie is less effective. There's nothing wrong with it but it feels like they were making a misstep as they were attempting to move forward. Rap and reggae were bound to come together eventually only this isn't a great example of them meshing particularly well. In spite of the duo's lengthy list of impressive production credits (Black Uhuru's Red being a personal favourite of mine; the pair were also behind albums such as Bob Dylan's Infidels and Grace Jones' Nightclubbing), rapper KRS-One was at the helm of their 1989 LP Silent Assassin. Some stellar names appear to drop some rhymes — Queen Latifah, Young MC — "Dance Hall" features one Willie D who doesn't really distinguish himself. The late Robbie Shakespeare plays some typically glorious bass but it's wasted on something so nondescript.

It's actually tempting to think what the Jungle Brothers might have done with Sly & Robbie backing and/or producing them. Their playfulness might have found a home in Shakespeare and Dunbar's beats and I suspect they would've been more interested in capturing Jamaican dance hall music rather than just rapping about it. The Jungle Brothers' subsequent 1990 hit "Doin' Our Own Dang", an excellent track that only just out performed "What U Waitin' 4" on the charts, is much more in keeping with the spirit of that blissed out, hippie hop vibe (which the guesting Monie Love and De La Soul made even clearer). Sly & Robbie would go back to their Jamaican roots as part of the ragga boom of the early nineties, eventually being behind the hits by duo Chaka Demus & Pliers. Like Shabba Ranks and Shaggy, they brought in elements of rap into Jamaican music, rather than the other way around.

Pickles points out that while "people think we listen to rock 'n' roll all day" they are in fact hip hop fans at heart. Beyond the obvious crassness of their singles, this comment points to one of the other big knocks against the Jive Bunny brand. Elsewhere, DJs and producers were making records that were futuristic but they wanted to take modern techniques to revive a past that they themselves weren't even very interested in. It was bad enough that they had to unleash "Swing the Mood" and "Let's Party" upon the world but to do so while depriving the world of some sort of techno-rap-dance-sample masterpiece that was really in their hearts? Unforgivable.

~~~~~

Also of some cop

Inspiral Carpets: "This Is How It Feels"

Madchester groups tended to have at least two songs people liked then and fondly recall now. With a respectable eleven Top 40 entries, you'd think that this rule would easily apply to Oldham's finest. But I've been struggle to think of another Carpets single beyond this one. I know I heard some back in the day but not one left any kind of impression on me. (It evidently isn't just hip hop that could be quite forgettable) Still, if you're going to be known for only one indie hit then why not "This Is How It Feels". Presenting a more reflective side of the whole baggy scene, the lyrics are about an unhappy family with hints of spousal abuse and also about some rich person attempting to whisk a "local girl" away and these anecdotes are how it feels to be lonely. More care could've been put into the words but it's still a great record. Far from the studenty jam session that Morgan and Pickles describe it as, in reality it's tough but tender. That organ is ace too: no wonder they were Generation X's answer to The Doors and The Stranglers. It's just a shame I can't remember anything else they did.

John Lennon: "Stand by Me"

14 May 1981

"It's a song that would make a fool of anybody who didn't mean it. Lennon wouldn't have had to make it perfect. But he did."

— Pete Silverton

Prior to the events of December 8, 1980, John Lennon had never had a solo number one in his homeland. He hadn't even had a lot of big hits with just "Give Peace a Chance", "Instant Karma", "Power to the People", "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" and a belated release of "Imagine" his sole Top 10 entries. Even some of his finest singles — "Mind Games", "Whatever Gets You Thru the Night", "#9 Dream", "Jealous Guy" when it finally emerged as a 45 in the mid-eighties — badly underperformed. Then, millions were stunned when he was assassinated outside his apartment in New York and they expressed their grief by buying up his records en masse. "(Just Like) Starting Over", a reissue of "Imagine" and "Woman" all succeeded each other as Britain's favourite single and another re-release of "Happy Xmas" nearly gave him a quartet of chart toppers. As if all of this wasn't enough, Roxy Music's cover of "Jealous Guy" would go on to a fortnight at number one soon after "Woman" faded.

People couldn't get enough of John Lennon — until they did. With all due respect to "Starting Over", "Imagine" and "Woman", it was his stronger material that ended up being ignored. The first possible casualty was Yoko Ono's "Walking on Thin Ice", an outstanding disco-new wave recording that Lennon famously worked on just prior to his assassination. It entered the Top 40 just as "Jealous Guy" was nearing the summit and both "Imagine" and "Woman" were fading away. Now, you can argue that a single by a mad avant-garde banshee was lucky just to sniff the pop charts but it is easily her most commercial work and a sign that Lennon hadn't left the underground behind completely. Did goodwill towards her husband's memory push it at as high as it got or did the coming backlash hurt its chances? Hard to say but "Thin Ice" deserved better.

I'll acknowledge the ambiguity surrounding Ono's single but there's no doubt that people had grown tired of mourning by the spring of 1981 — and Lennon's recordings were about to pay the price. After overachieving with Double Fantasy's first two singles both going to number one, the album's third release saw a comedown. "Watching the Wheels" proved to be popular enough to make the Top 10 in the US, Canada and Switzerland but the British weren't having it. An autobiographical account of Lennon's lethargy (in the tradition of "I'm Only Sleeping", "Good Morning Good Morning" and "I'm So Tired"; as I've written previously, he may have indeed been lazy but not so much that he didn't feel the need to write a whole host of songs on the subject), it's as soft rock as "Woman" (the use of backing vocalists in both anticipates Stock Aitken Waterman) but with much more of a lyrical edge. While many of his compositions of the time are poignant in light of his horrific murder, it's strong enough on its own. But people weren't touched by it and it only got to number thirty.

But at least it did something on the charts which is more than can be said for the re-release of "Stand by Me". Not a big hit when it initially came out in 1975, it was chosen as yet another attempt to milk the tragedy. This time, it would be with an oldie, something that wasn't guaranteed catch on (while "Imagine" finally gave him the number one that it always should've been, a reissue of "Give Peace a Chance" was just a minor hit earlier in the year). Still, the public weren't interested in hearing Lennon with some bite so why not continue to plunder his sentimental side?

Due to legal issues surrounding a line in Beatles' hit "Come Together", Lennon had been strong-armed into recording an album of old rock 'n' roll hits. While this clashed with his countercultural image, it was something he nevertheless embraced. Ian MacDonald described Lennon's feelings towards the Chuck Berry hit "Rock and Roll Music", which was covered on the Beatles for Sale album and is an absolute banger, as "virtual holy writ" and for sure he tended to sing standards as if they meant everything to him. Beatles' covers are something of a mixed bag (Paul's are mostly good, George and Ringo's generally aren't up to much) but John's are some of their best. "Twist and Shout", "Baby It's You", "Money (That's What I Want)", "Please Mister Postman", "You've Really Got a Hold on Me", "Rock and Roll Music", "Bad Boy": Lennon screamed and emoted his way through so many great songs that he didn't write but might as well have. Even "Mr Moonlight", a lot of people's least favourite Fab Four track (they've obviously never heard Ringo's pitiful — and possibly drunken — take on "Matchbox"), is aided by John's throat ripping plea in the intro.

So, an album of oldies had some promise ten years after The Beatles had given up doing covers. The Rock 'n' Roll album isn't brilliant from start to finish but it has its moments. Tellingly, however, there's a reason you seldom ever hear twelve of its thirteen cuts. As one would expect, Lennon's singing is first rate, his vocals the finest he'd recorded since The White Album. Musically, it's never more than competent. You'd be hard pressed to find cover that tops its original source material. With one exception.

"Stand by Me" stands out on the Rock 'n' Roll album for its quality and the sense that it's a song that meant a lot more to Lennon in 1974 than it did when it first came out. Covers like "Be-Bop-a-Lula" and "Bony Maronie" are charming and affectionate, throwbacks to his youth; this says as much about his state of mind at the time than the likes of "Help", "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "God" did when they came out. Notably, it is one of just two cuts on the album that isn't from the fifties. (Sam Cooke's "Bring It on Home to Me", which was used in a mediocre medley with Little Richard's "Send Me Some Lovin', is the other) Separated from Ono and in the midst of his Lost Weekend, the lyrics likely hit home and Lennon gives it a stirring reading as a result. 

The sole Lennon cover that ever crops up on compilations, "Stand by Me" could've appeared on either of the good-not-great Mind Games or Walls & Bridges albums and it still would've been a highlight. Yet it only just made grazed the Top 30 of the UK charts in 1975 and it fared much worse six years later — even though it appears not to have been a major release. In truth, there wasn't much reason for it being reissued beyond simply keeping the product coming. The public had expressed their sorrow in the aftermath of his murder but now it was time to move on. Further posthumous releases maintained the downward trend with the exception of brand new single "Nobody Told Me" from 1984's Milk & Honey. Ben E. King's original (which is slightly inferior to Lennon's) would later go to number one in Britain on the strength of a Levi's ad campaign proving that the song still had legs. And it still does to this day. Again, Lennon may not have written it but he might as well have.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Kraftwerk: "Pocket Calculator"

Seriously, this was a single? The Computer World album is nowhere near as great as some will have you believe (it doesn't touch either Autobahn or Trans-Europe Express) but it had better material to draw from this, in Pete Silverton's words, "silly song". It seems strange they didn't go into the realm of video games but perhaps choosing to spurn Atari in favour of Little Professor calculators must've been a joke for the German quartet. (If that is indeed the case then the gag is lost on me) Honestly, what can be said about something so throwaway being done by a massively talented group who must have had better things to do. Proof that (a) they were right to get into cycling and (b) this most influential of groups .

Gloria Estefan: "Here We Are"

21 February 1990

"As usual her "man" is being a rotter, as usual she loves him regardless and as usual there are tinkling pianos and fluttering Spanish guitars galore rustling in the shrubbery."

— Chris Heath

Blimey, 1990 was off to a slow start. The decade has so far seen some awfully poor Singles of the Fortnight but at least the charts were every bit as subpar. Christmas number one holdover "Do They Know It's Christmas?" by Band Aid II was the first chart topper of the year and it was followed by the equally awful "Hangin' Tough" by New Kids on the Block. Next was Kylie Minogue's very unremarkable version of Little Anthony & The Imperials "Tears on My Pillow", which was better than its number one successors but not much. It lasted just a week on top and was replaced by a single so brilliant that it ended up turning the whole year around.

Unfortunately, Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" ended up being passed over for a Smash Hits SOTF even though it was a bona fide Single of the Decade for a ten year period that was just two months' old. Scan old issues of ver Hits from the time and you'll discover that not only was it not reviewed but it wasn't even included in the Also Released This Fortnight consolation category.  And yet, it still spent four weeks at number one and ended up being a worldwide smash — and it has aged beautifully even if the rest of us haven't.

Less endearing today is Chris Heath's pick for this issue's SOTF, "Here We Are" by Gloria Estefan. He admits this isn't exactly the strongest batch of new releases so his choice is by default. His write up isn't even glowing with his nibs using an awful lot of 'as usuals'. And who can blame him? Gloria and her longstanding Miami Sound Machine — whether acknowledged or not they were still present — crew had long since settled on a formula of going back-and-forth between slushy love songs and dancefloor numbers about how the best thing one can do is get on that dancefloor pronto.

Critic Tom Breihan has described Estefan as "America's most successful wedding singer" and it's hard to disagree. "Anything for You", "Can't Stay Away From You" and "Don't Wanna Lose You" are just the sort of songs You might want to have Your first dance to with Your new spouse (no one I know personally, mind you); the likes of "Conga", "1-2-3" and "Get on Your Feet" could all encourage grannies and kiddies and friends of your parents to get dancing while everyone else goes straight to the open bar.

"Here We Are" was the third single from Estefan's first solo album Cuts Both Ways. Torch song "Don't Wanna Lose You" came out first in the summer of 1989 and it was followed by the uptempo "Get on Your Feet" in the US and "Oye Mi Canto" in Britain. So far, so adequate. None of these songs was about to blow anyone away but they were all sturdy enough records that weren't about to get people running from the room in terror. For the most part, the album as a whole was quite good too. Predecessor LP Anything for You (known as Let It Loose in North America) may have had the stronger singles (I still like "1-2-3") but Cuts Both Ways was the stronger record from top to bottom. The three singles spread over various territories amounted to the decent material that could be siphoned off Estefan's album but such thinking never occurred to record company execs.

It was vastly inferior to "Don't Wanna Lose You" but you could always rely on a gloopy Gloria number to be a big hit, though not for much longer. "Here We Are" did well in the US but people were beginning to tire of all these so-called ballads that all sounded the same. Anything for You had been a slow burn in the UK and it's four singles did well on the back of it; Cuts Both Ways sold really well right away and its 45's suffered as a result. A year earlier "Here We Are" might've been a Top 10 hit but in 1990 it drifted around the lower half of the Top 40 for a month and was quickly forgotten about. Even the news that she'd been seriously injured when her tour bus got crushed on March 20 couldn't save this very ordinary recording.

Estefan recuperated from spinal surgery over the next year and the world seemed to move on. I had started 1990 off by playing Cuts Both Ways to death but the Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode and Madchester taken over and by the end of the year I had outgrown this music that was so painfully adult. I wasn't terribly impressed by her 1991 comeback "Coming Out of the Dark" and I'm not so sure it was just because I had moved on. It was too inspirational and too calculated. I would later have my own brush with death in 2002 and I listened a lot to Stevie Wonder's Fulfillingness' First Finale at that time. An account of dealing with his own mortality, it was (and remains) poignant and relatable. Listening to it made me think of how poorly Gloria Estefan handled such weighty material. We all got sick of her because her stuff all sounded the same but then we wanted her to go back to sounding the same when she tried to be serious. Some people just can't win.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Railway Children: "Every Beat of the Heart"

The one Heath ought to have picked. He likes it for the most part but then dampens his praise by stating that the tune is "nicked from an old New Order song". That might well be true but I find it's just generally inspired by NO, not cribbed from one number in particular. The bass part is straight out of the Peter Hook Book of Bass Playing for Lead Guitarists but much of the rest is just good old, highly irresistible jangle pop. Heath also mentions Del Amitri as a not dissimilar group but I'll take the melancholy of lead Railway Child Gary Newby any day. Proof of what a sucker I am for depressing songs that also manage to be uplifting. A superb single then, now and always — and a sign that sweet indie pop was back (BACK!!).

Black Box: "I Don't Know Anybody Else" / Tears for Fears: "Advice for the Young at Heart"

7 February 1990 (with some Requiem-like spillover here)

"I like this — this is my single of the fortnight because it's what the people want now."

— London Boy Edem

"This is my single of the fortnight — especially because its got that sun on it. It must be the symbol of the 90's!"

— London Boy Dennis

Pop groups were once a lot more prolific. In 1965 The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys and The Byrds released two albums apiece, with The Rolling Stones going one better with a trio of LPs. Sure, albums tended to be shorter back then but the rapid pace artists kept keeping the product coming more than made up the difference. A work rate of an album a year was still commonplace into the eighties though it really depended on the act in question. People that toured their albums to death typically had a larger gap between follow-ups and the business model pioneered by Michael Jackson's Thriller also slowed things down considerably. When blockbuster albums could potentially result in six, seven or even eight singles, there's every reason to expect record labels to want to milk it for as long as possible.

Tears for Fears didn't really fit either of these trends but they, too, were happy to let the years pass between albums. Their acclaimed debut The Hurting came out in the spring of 1983 and it hugely successful follow-up Songs from the Big Chair arrived just under two years later. Not bad even if plenty of other groups were able to lap them at the same time. It would then be another five-and-a-half-years before third album The Seeds of Love would come out. (In approximately the same amount of time Prince, R.E.M. and XTC all managed to release six albums apiece) This relatively slow work rate may or may not have been to their liking, though you'd have to think that their record label would've loved a new LP in about 1987. If it was their doing then all the power to them. However, such slow output robs listeners of accurate picture of how they were progressing. How a band develops

Roland Orzbal and Curt Smith really began to emerge in North America with the singles "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" and "Shout" both from Songs from the Big Chair. They were immediately lumped in with Culture Club, Duran Duran and Wham! as a part of the so-called Second British Invasion of the early-to-mid eighties. It was a designation that didn't mean a whole lot since everyone who happened to come from the UK was a part of this SBI (not unlike the way groups like Radiohead and Manic Street Preachers were considered to be Britpop in the US even when no one would've applied the term to either of them back home) but they had little in common with these other groups. English New Pop had arisen out of the ashes of punk, new wave and post punk but Tears for Fears were much closer to prog rock derived acts like Thomas Dolby, Kajagoogoo, Howard Jones and Nik Kershaw. These were the sort of people who probably all had their own home studios so they could live out their dreams of being a Todd Rundgren-esque sonic wizard. Fantastically talented musicians who made immaculate home demos. People who spent at least as much time producing others as they did on their own work. Acts who often proved that brilliant musicianship doesn't a great pop song make . Luckily, Tears for Fears were by far the best of the bunch.

I once really liked Curt Smith. Far from being the other one in Tears for Fears, he was the only reason I had anything to do with my sister's favourite group. For one thing, he looked so utterly English. He had vaguely angelic facial features that deftly masked an individual who could handle himself in a pub brawl, the midway point between Gilbert O'Sullivan and the Dynamite Kid. Plus, he had a lovely voice. His TFF partner sounded like his throat had been permanently coated in phlegm but Smith's singing was clear and wistful and you could just tell that he meant every word.

It wasn't until I grew up that I realised that I got it all wrong. I don't take anything back about my description of Smith (I have to say I'm rather chuffed about comparing him to Gilbert O'Sullivan and the Dynamite Kid) only that he wasn't the one to care about in Tears for Fears. Roland Orzbal wrote most of the songs and he could get something out of nearly every instrument he'd pick up. Aging into adulthood even gave me much more of an appreciation for his vocals. Roland was the heart and soul of Tears for Fears and I wish I had been more aware of this as a youngster.

With the gap between albums ever widening, we were already seeing TFF entering a premature musical middle age with The Seeds of Love. A third album should be the point in which a group begins to really hit its stride not where they get all reflective and start harping on about how much better the sixties were and all that stuff. The duo had once been synth-pop adjacent but they were now starting to come across as baby boomer rock royalty. (It certainly didn't help when they appeared alongside Phil Collins, Cliff Richard and Pink Floyd at the 1990 Silver Clef Award Winners Concert and as part of the accompanying Knebworth live album) Eurythmics had evolved in a similar fashion but at least they were of an appropriate age.

There's nothing wrong with musical maturity, only that it seemed to hit Orzbal and Smith at a fairly young age. Ironically, a song entitled "Advice for the Young at Heart" would prove to be one of their most middle-of-the-road numbers. As always, it's well played and arranged but it's also tame. Orzbal takes lead vocals on most of The Seeds of Love and his soulful voice gives the LP some much needed passion; Smith's singing here only exposes how bloodless the whole thing is. "Sowing the Seeds of Love" had been a wonderful bit of Beatle-esque pop (at a time when being "Beatle-esque" still meant something) that gave the duo their last big hit; "Woman in Chains" introduced the world to the spectacular voice of Oleta Adams and it's a excellent composition. But this? It's not even a great deep cut and it's status as a single smacks of needing to put the spotlight on Smith for a bit. Few were convinced and it had a three week stay in the lower reaches of the Top 40 before disappearing.

Smith would end up departing not long after, making Tears for Fears effectively a solo project for Orzbal. His/their nineties output varied in quality. The pair would eventually reform and they remain a top group. It's just a shame that they've only managed to put out seven albums in nearly forty years of recording activity. It would've been nice to have seen them young and hungry, successful and riding that wave, experimental as the hits began drying up, doing an obligatory fan-service, play-it-safe album as they began to mellow and, finally, approaching more advanced years with a nothing-to-lose mentality of once again being adventuresome. We got a taste of these periods but never a sustained progression of moving from one to another. Prog rock groups are supposed to progress, you know.

~~~~~

Gosh, there's also a Black Box single to review, isn't there? I spent the past several days thinking so much about Tears for Fears that I neglected to give much consideration to its co-Single of the Fortnight. Let's see if I can find much to say about it now.

Black Box's "Ride on Time" began dominating the UK singles charts a few weeks after I returned to Canada. It was hardly the first Eurodance or Italo house record but to many it might as well have been. Jive Bunny's "Swing the Mood" had spent a very long month at the top of the charts so its usurper was bound to be appreciated. It ended up spending six weeks at number one and it did similarly brisk business in the record shops all over Europe. To this day, many pop kids of the eighties have fond memories of it

Yet, it never did anything in North America. Mind you, there's nothing strange about that: European success means squat on the other side of the Atlantic. What is odd is that subsequent Black Box singles made the charts in the US and Canada. "I Don't Know Anybody Else" (listed as "I Don't Know Anyone" in this issue of Smash Hits) was a respectable Top 30 entry in early 1990 and then "Everybody, Everybody" became a Top 10 stormer later in the year. "Ride on Time" never meant a thing in the new world but they were still able to become relevant, at least for a time.

"I Don't Know Anybody Else" is London Boy Edem's Single of the Fortnight (even if I'm not entirely convinced it was his favourite) but he admits that it isn't quite "Ride on Time". Their first hit, he reckons, "was a complete one-off" and this follow-up is just more of the same. Very good but clearly lacking the thrill of old. But the group's unusual path towards having hits in North America suggests that this was simply to do with release dates rather than one record being vastly superior to the other. "Ride on Time" came out first and, as such, it was the bigger hit and made more of an impact. Your favourite Black Box song is just like your favourite Wes Anderson movie: whichever you hear or see first will the one you are fondest of.

Black Box's lip-synching issues would end up being dwarfed by Milli Vanilli's at about the same time. Partly this was down to the former being far bigger, particularly in North America. The pair were also more than happy to boast of their considerable talents. What happened to Rob and Fab is sad but it was difficult to feel sorry for them at the time. "Groups" like Black Box managed to come away from it intact because it was clear their "vocalists" were simply a front. Eurodance would carry on typically with a duo of a female singer and a male rapper in the mould of Snap!, Culture Beat or 2 Unlimited. I had no idea if any of these people did the vocals on their hits but I did know that it didn't matter anyway. It was the studio boffins working behind the scenes who deserved all the credit anyway.

~~~~~

Finally, a word about Edem Ephraim and Dennis Fuller, this issue's guest singles reviewers. The London Boys have already been covered in this space but I don't imagine they'll be reappearing. Their chart run was brief but hit singles "Requiem" and "London Nights" were appealing hi-NRG pop-dance records. They also had the look of good pop stars and the pair carried themselves well in interviews and, indeed, in this singles review. They always looked like the type of people who were enjoying every second of their ride on the giddy carousel of pop. Sadly, they were both killed by a drunk driver in early 1996. VER HITS salutes them and I hope that their hits will remain dancefloor favourites forever.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Electribe 101: "Talking with Myself"

German vocalist Billy Rae Martin and her chums from Birmingham weren't giving up on this number and with good reason. I remember reading about it a year earlier in a Chris Heath review in Smash Hits and wishing I could hear it. Naturally I didn't seek it out, I instead waited for it to come to me — and maybe I wasn't the only one. We're still a year away from Massive Attack's "Unfinished Sympathy" and the dawn of trip hop but no one told this to Electribe 101. The London Boys aren't particularly fussed but maybe it was just too ahead of its time. An outstanding single that deserves to be remembered today.