David Sylvian: "Red Guitar"

10 May 1984

"The first result of all that beavering away in the studio with musicians from all over the shop that David Sylvian's been up to for the last several months, and one that suggests he's been spending his time well."

— Dave Rimmer

A big part of what I'm trying to do with this blog is to grow to appreciate each Single of the Fortnight or, failing that, to understand why the reviewer picked a record I don't really rate. This wasn't something I had in mind when I first got this up and running sixteen months ago but it wouldn't be long before I had to confront it: Charlie Gillett's co-SOTF of Jon & Vangelis' "State of Independence" and The Birthday Party's "Release the Bats" was the first time I found myself with no interest at all in the critic's pick, yet I managed to sufficiently apologise for it as the only numbers — with the obvious exception of that week's cop pick — I could see opting for. At least him from Yes and the "Chariots of Fire" guy were looking towards a yuppified eighties progressive rock; and that other fellow (the one who would one day be Nick Cave from Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds), he was busy morphing punk, glam and murder ballads into what would soon be dubbed 'goth rock'. I may not have liked them but I understood what they were trying to get at.

Not so much here, however. Drafting in an impressive roster of sessioners — former members of Japan, current collaborator Ryuichi Sakamoto, Can's Holger Czukay, folk bassist Danny Thompson, a string of accomplished jazz cats — David Sylvian seemed to have something big in store for his first solo album, perhaps even an eighties equivalent of Astral Weeks. Now, I never got round to listening to the rest of the Brilliant Trees LP that resulted so well done, David, for crafting a possibly stupendous masterpiece of art rock; judging by the lead-off single, however, it may well be boring, difficult to connect with and rather pointless (though it could be one of those ones that holds together well in spite of the duffness of every single track). Quite what Sylvian was aspiring to with "Red Guitar" is uncertain: is this a serious statement of the world's crumbling societies, like "Invisible Sun" by The Police? A song of loneliness and despair? Just an idle boast about red guitars? Who knows and the material doesn't intrigue me enough to bother trying to figure it out. (Dave Rimmer admits to not understanding it and he likes the bloody thing!)

Though contemporaneous with the new romantics and new pop, David Sylvian and his former bandmates Japan took pains to point out that they had nothing to do with chancers like the Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran and the like. Others, they claimed, dressed up to play the part but they were the real deal. (Such is a level of earnestness I've never been comfortable with in pop music, especially coming out of Britain where they really ought to know better) Simon Le Bon and the Kemp brothers and Boy George cared what we thought but Sylvian didn't. He doesn't care that "Red Guitar" means nothing to me and probably didn't care that Rimmer thought it so brilliant. And, with that, maybe I do understand, even if I don't care to admit it.
 
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Sade: "When Am I Going to Make a Living"

Rimmer's SOTF runner-up is probably the best of the bunch on offer (sorry Wham!, while I don't agree with his nibs that "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" is third-rate Shakin' Stevens, it's not a particularly good record, even if if made George Michael a force all over the world). An anti-Thatcherite record that really matters — it deals with real people's struggles rather than just looking to poke fun at the Iron Lady — this is a helpful reminder that virtually everyone longed to be upwardly mobile in the eighties, just very few knew how to go about it. ("We're hungry for a life we can't afford": does any single lyric capture eighties angst better?) Sade's work always had far more depth than the yuppie dinner parties she would soon soundtrack but that was a world she longed to be part of. A tremendous talent was blossoming but one mostly for those damn upwardly mobile.

Roman Holliday: "Don't Try to Stop It"

23 June 1983

"Very lively, a good summer record and, with the right breaks, it should be a big hit."

— George Michael

"It sounds like a sophisticated JoBoxers."

— Andrew Ridgely

The lads from Wham! are in the singles reviewer's chair this fortnight and they don't exactly kill it like Gary Kemp a couple issues back. Dragged down a bit perhaps by an uninspiring bunch of records, the pair don't seem to have much to say. In keeping with their group dynamic of one member doing vocals, music, writing and production and the other seemingly content to be a mate and look the part, George Michael takes the lead with the bulk of the little analysis offered up. For his part, perennial other one Andrew Ridgely does trot out the odd perceptive remark (his comment above comparing Roman Holliday to JoBoxers is the closest thing to a fascinating observation) but is otherwise consigned to the background. Good to know that Wham! could never stop being Wham!

We're a long way off from the starkly serious George Michael — not to mention the equally starkly serious facial hair that accompanied his metamorphosis — that pop music fans would eventually become all-too familiar with but we're already seeing a figure in dire need of a sense of humour. He also shows signs of a sizable rock star ego. Unable at times to put the records he's been tasked with first, he says of heavy metal that its one saving grace is that the "attitudes that go with it are far less dangerous than the elitism I bump into once or twice a week at London's trendier nightclubs". Of the sleeve of "Disco Bond" by The Frank Barber Orchestra, he points out that "if I were the sexist pig I've been accused of being, I'd probably say that the only decent thing about this record are the tasty birds on the cover". He's far from the worst offender in this regard but it's a bit sad seeing him make much of this review about himself.

Some records may have a lot going on in their favour yet still manage not to deliver much. Roman Holliday ably merge their obvious debt to fifties doo-wop and rock 'n' roll with post punk soul and touches of ska but they fail to convince in doing so. Their Peel session from a year earlier isn't really to my taste but their strict reliance on older styles feels much more comfortably in their element. Hardly tipped for a ride on the Giddy Carousel of Pop but it's easy to imagine them being good fun as a live act. (In the wacky video for "Don't Try to Stop It" they finish up their hectic day with a gig for some senior citizens which makes me wonder if they were nodding towards older audiences being better at appreciating their swing pop sound) It's hard to imagine what else backers John Peel and The Clash's Mick Jones saw in them otherwise. 

Good, throwaway fun for some, "Don't Try to Stop It" got some of the breaks that Michael had hoped for as it landed in the Top 20. Despite putting their very youthful-looking vocalist Steve Lambert on the cover later in the year, Roman Holliday were pretty much one and done, the follow-up, "Motormania", "enjoying" just a cup of coffee in charts. Novelty songs can have that effect. On the bright side, at least they could go back to being a real group again. You know, like Wham!

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

David Sylvian & Ryuichi Sakamoto: "Forbidden Colours"

One of many collaborations between the former leader of new romantic act Japan and the far east's foremost purveyor of eighties' pop, "Forbidden Colours" is from the British-Japanese film Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence and is described by Michael as a "film theme rather than a song" (as well as "pleasant enough background music": cheers for that Ridges). It could simply be its place in the context of picture about British prisoners of war kept by the Japanese but Sylvian and Sakamoto succeed at bridging troubled cultural differences where Bowie — also, fact fans, one of the stars of this very same movie, strange they didn't have him contribute to its soundtrack...or is it? — did so with charm but little substance on "China Girl". (Mind you, he did get all rumpo with an Asian girl on a beach in the video so you can't say he wasn't doing his part too) A gorgeous song in which Sylvian nicely balances the emotion and restraint, this should have been this issue's runaway SOTF.