— Fred Dellar
From 1979 to 1981, The Specials were the finest group in the world. They were a killer live act (and still are by all accounts). They looked like the part of the coolest people who were in the coolest band, just the sort of unit that young musicians have aspired to be a part of. The pop video was still in its infancy but they proved to be masters of cutting a sweet promo. They stood for something. Oh, and their first two albums — The Specials and More Specials (the mundane title of the latter won't do at all: it is anything but more of the same) — are brilliant, their run of hit singles is flawless and their B sides are as good as any you'll find.
Before I get to praising "Ghost Town", I'd like to discuss its pair of stellar flip sides. While the record's A side is rightly seen being the zeitgeist of early-eighties' Thatcherism, "Why" and "Friday Night, Saturday Morning" are equally potent throwbacks to that era — even though they both remain sadly relevant to this day. Being the age of the Rock Against Racism, one might have expected Specials' guitarist/singer Lynval Golding to have composed a bitterly angry treatment in opposition to the rise of the National Front and neo-Nazis; instead, "Why" is sad, as if written from the perspective of an innocent black or brown child confronted with prejudice for the first time. (The Specials themselves would record a much clearer anti-racist jab with "Racist Friend" though it is much more earnest)
The Kinks-esque character in "Friday Night, Saturday Morning" is an interesting counterpoint to "Why". There's nothing to suggest that the protagonist in this Terry Hall-penned number harbours any ill-feeling towards minorities but it does suggest that whites who feel like others have taken their jobs might want to consider making their own lives a little less dreary. White people who drink all the time to dull their senses really have no business considering others to be inferior. A sort of sequel to "Nite Klub" but with the mindless hedonism of old having given way to being resigned to just how empty his life is ("wish I had lipstick on my shirt, instead of piss stains on my shoes"). Yet, it's a song not without a sense of humour. Hall had begun to find his way as a songwriter to be reckoned with.
A duo of outstanding B sides but they're both bonuses. No one bought "Ghost Town" for anything but the A side and rightly so. As I have already mentioned, much has been made of it capturing that period of riots and strikes and the sheer misery of Thatcher's Britain but it's also a remarkable single in its own right. (Tom Ewing has made that very point much more elegantly that I ever could: "even if the grim energy of “Ghost Town” hadn’t fitted the times so well, even if the song had remained simply a lament for a scene (and a band) in breakdown, it would still be a gothic masterpiece") While I tend to prefer much more concise 7" mixes/edits of pop records, this is a very obvious exception: three-and-a-quarter minutes of running time does not do it justice; six minutes better allows for build-up and an appreciation for its unsettling atmosphere. Having more time to listen to "Ghost Town" forces the listener in to experience ghastly neighbourhoods and New Towns and streets of nothing but urban decay. The shorter version is great but only with the extended mix does the listener grasp the full scope of Jerry Dammers' vision.
Famously, The Specials imploded while "Ghost Town" was still riding the charts. Having the E.P. The Special A.K.A Live go to number one a year earlier was a feat that the Coventry septet could enjoy together; this time, however, there was a distinct lack of joy in spite of having the most popular record in the country, one that would be a near-unanimous pick for single of the year. Golding has said that he knew the band was finished while performing it on Top of the Pops. What should have been their crowning moment became a bittersweet valedictory address.
Golding, Hall and fellow Special Neville Staple were off to form Fun Boy Three, a group that would similarly go out on a high note two years later with their version of "Our Lips Are Sealed". Guitarist Roddy Radiation and bassist Sir Horace Gentleman would also quickly depart. Associate Special Rico Rodriguez was allegedly convinced that he shouldn't be playing in a largely white group and he and his trombone headed back to Jamaica. Keyboardist/songwriter/bandleader Dammers and drummer John Bradbury would carry on with the respectable In the Studio album and a memorable hit single "Nelson Mandela". Dammers was a well-known group dictator in the mold of Kevin Rowland but where the Dexys leader thrived in spite of sacking virtually everyone he ever played with, the series of resignations crippled the dentally-challenged one's empire. He built up a formidable group that was briefly the best in the world but it was one that had to come undone once it had reached the top. They were too good to remain together.
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Siouxsie & The Banshees: "Spellbound"
Dellar describes "Spellbound" as a winner and he's right on the mark. John McGeoch tends to hog the critical spotlight (his 12-string playing is a clear influence on Johnny Marr on The Smiths' "Bigmouth Strikes Again") but his bandmates are right there with him. Dellar seems to reckon that Siouxsie drags things down a touch but this is a vintage performance from her and a classic example of her innate ability to take command of a song. For his part, Budgie's relentless drumming holds everything together as was typical for them. "Spellbound" is one of their finest singles and deserved a whole lot better than a routine Top 30 performance. It even deserved to be Single of the Fortnight, if only for a peak-of-powers Specials getting in their way.
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