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— Tim Southwell
Apologies for the deadnaming but Terence Trent D'Arby is known to millions while Sananda Maitreya is seldom-remembered. No doubt there are those out there with well-worn copies of Introducing the Hardline... who aren't even aware that the artist behind this successful and influential album changed his name way back in 2001. As someone who has known about it I would nevertheless struggle to tell you what it is.
That out of the way, let's get to the tale of the genius from the late eighties who was big for a year or so then faded away and everyone forgot all about him. Except that someone didn't get the memo, while the UK still wasn't done with him (at least for the time being).
Tom Breihan's column on the 1988 American number one hit "Wishing Well" (a Top 5 smash about a year earlier in Britain) relates the story of the singer getting rejected by a series of UK record labels because they supposedly didn't want another Michael Jackson or Prince. The pop critic is skeptical and with good reason: who wouldn't have wanted another fabulously talented and charismatic singer with oodles of crossover appeal? But I'm a little doubtful that this was even what happened. More likely is that the likes of BMG, EMI, Polygram and Virgin took a pass on him because he refused to be just like the superstars of the day.
In a previous mini review of "Wishing Well", I took issue with reviewer Vicky McDonald's comparison of D'Arby to Prince but I think the similarities grew as the younger singer's career progressed. By refusing to be just like his supposed idol, he became more resolute, more independent, more single-minded and, thus, more like Prince. Still, if I'm going to take others to task, I might as well do the same for myself. For some reason, I chose to assert that "Wishing Well" was something that the "future Sananda Maitreya would have difficulty topping". All I can say is I didn't have his overlooked output from 1993 on my mind back then. Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D'Arby was his lone blockbuster album but he didn't come into his own until third L.P. Symphony or Damn* (*Exploring the Tension Inside the Sweetness). (Though Tom Breihan remarks that no one did audacious album titles like Maitreya, he didn't even bother to bring up this one)
Having made a second album that derailed his superstar status so spectacularly that it arguably undermined just how massive he had been (Introducing the Hardline... managed to top the British album charts for nine weeks, an astonishing total for anyone much less an artist's debut; such was its obscurity that Simon Reynolds didn't bother including sophomore release Neither Fish not Flesh in his list of 'Career Killing Albums'), everyone would've forgiven D'Arby for retreating back to tried and tested slow song territory. So for him to re-emerge with the rock and funk attack of "Do You Love Me Like You Say?" was an especially bold move.
"Talent borrows, genius steals" (though wouldn't the truly talented genius come up with something less cliched?): taking every element of "Do You Love Me..." apart there's nothing especially original going on. There's a percussionist in the accompanying promo and he sure did a bang up job nicking the that "Funky Drummer" part. The rhythm guitar playing is, yes, decidedly Princian. The backing vocalists chirp away like in an old school soul record. And, of course, there's Terence Trent D'Arby at the centre of it with a throat-shredding performance that nods to his gospel roots. As I say, nothing new to see here but for the fact that they've seldom been sewn together so seamlessly. "She Drives Me Crazy" had been a huge global hit back in 1989 for Fine Young Cannibals but the way they pieced together all its disparate elements seemed jarring; in these more capable hands, however, they merge so well that you'd think they'd always been together.
Even though it had been a return to form and then some, Symphony or Damn couldn't match the sales and chart lifespan of Introducing the Hardline... It would debut at number four but would quickly end up drifting around the lower reaches of the albums chart for the remainder of its run.Yet, its singles all did respectable business with each one nabbing a Top 20 spot in the UK. It's as if everyone found a Terence Trent D'Arby song they liked and loyally stuck by it at the expense of his other releases, even his sleeper album. The Terence that rocks out, the Terence that croons soulfully, the Terence that dabbles, the Terence that trips on acid rock and post-punk: at most, you may have one Sananda Maitreya but I'll take 'em all.
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
R.E.M.: "Everybody Hurts"
I was going to nix my plan to write about every single from Automatic for the People and go with Trash Can Sinatras instead but I couldn't be arsed. Why write about people who want to be R.E.M. when you can have the real thing instead? There are bots out there on social media who claim that this and U2's "One" are lousy; I know they're bots because no human being with a soul would say such things. Quite why Warner Brothers chose to sit on "Everybody Hurts" as long as they did is a mystery — had they put it out as the second single from the album it might have given them that US and/or UK number one that they never had. And that video! I had resisted them for long enough and it was at this point that I started to crack. While it's depressing that it frequently takes a moving slow song to get the public to shell out for a worthy group, at least R.E.M. were getting the giant hit they deserved. If only they'd been so kind towards the future Sananda Maitreya.
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