Dexys Midnight Runners: "Liars A to E"

12 November 1981

"P.S. I've got my pen and notebook ready, Kev. That's my job."

— Johnny Black

In a Q Magazine 'Cash for Questions' feature back in 2000, Julian Cope was asked by a fan if he liked Blur's "Country House" because it poked fun at fellow ex-Teardrop Explodes member and Food Records exec David Balfe. The 1995 single famously defeated Oasis' "Roll with It" in 'Battle of Britpop' number one sweepstakes but it also had its detractors. The goodwill Blur had been slowly building over the course of the nineties was beginning to dwindle just as they were at their commercial apogee.

Cope didn't mince words. He felt that "Country House" was "dreadful" and a "pile of crap". "To me," he reasoned, "a piece of art's intention doesn't automatically qualify it for a tick [of approval]". The singer, bassist, author, historian and madman also likened it to much of the work of Dexys Midnight Runners and, in particular, "Liars A to E". "You'd read what it was about and you'd go, Yeah! And you'd hear it and you'd go, Urrgghh."

While I understand Cope's point, I can't agree with the examples discussed. First, "Country House", while far from Blur at their best, isn't that bad. Guitarist Graham Coxon, who most people cite as being the prime instigator of their move from Britpop to lo-fi indie rock, has admitted that he has made his peace with the song and has even stated that it's fun to play live. It's easy to get sick of but every so often I hear it and I find myself getting sucked in. As for Dexys, I have a question for ol' Jules: Huh???

As a Motown/Northern Soul enthusiast, I have a difficult time imagining Kevin Rowland sacrificing the quality of a song just to prove a point. The man put every bit as much of himself into his music, compositions and performances as Cope did and this is not what those coasting on good intentions do. I have no doubt that Julian dislikes Dexys Midnight Runners, I just don't think it has anything to do with the reason he gives. (Hint: it's a matter of taste, as it always is)

There's another peculiar aspect to this comment of Cope's and that's "Liars A to E" itself. "Country House" was a number one smash at the forefront of the Britpop boom and it would have been difficult to avoid for a few weeks in the summer of '95; Dexys' seventh single, on the other hand, failed to chart. If Cope didn't want to have anything to do with Rowland's latest offering he wouldn't have had to put himself out very much.

But enough with Julian bloody Cope — at least for now. Hit or flop (and their chart peaks were seemingly so random that there would have been no way of knowing quite where they were going to place) every Dexys single from "Dance Stance" to "Because of You" is first rate and "Liars A to E" is no exception. In terms of significance, it is only a notch below "Geno" and "Come on Eileen": while only a fraction as popular their pair of number ones, it signals the change that was coming as they went from their early horn-fueled sound to the fiddles and banjos that marked the second wind they enjoyed in 1982.

Yet that's cold comfort to this record, one that is typically overlooked likely due to its failure to dent the Top 100. As Johnny Black suggests, the masses simply didn't have the patience for it. With hollers of "now that I'm fit to show it, don't want anyone else to know it...", some listeners may have geared themselves up for something relatively harsh; others may have found the transition from acapella rage to a lush string section jarring. It's a deceptive song that can get stuck in the brain without warning, making it almost as catchy as "There There My Dear" or "Come on Eileen" but without the ecstatic wedding dance cheeriness of either.

Perhaps feeling like he didn't get it right the first time (even though he did), Rowland ended up having it redone the following year for the Too-Rye-Ay album. The shouting at the beginning was jettisoned, he re-recorded his lead vocal to make it more considered and sensitive and he added a group of backing singers who added nothing. An exceptional single had suddenly become a forgettable (and, frankly, skippable) deep cut. Kevin Rowland should have known better than to second guess his instincts. Like Julian Cope, he had his convictions and was always at his best when he kept to them. Bandmates, critics and fans be damned!

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Teardrop Explodes: "Colours Fly Away"

Sadly, I am unable to locate a Kevin Rowland quotation in which he rips into The Chemical Brothers' "Setting Sun" as belabouring the acid rock-ness and comparing it with The Teardrop Explodes' "Colours Fly Away". Those early Teardrop singles "When I Dream", "Reward" and "Treason" are all wonderful examples of new wave psychedelia but there's nothing new going on here. Black curiously describes it as "Byrds meets Pink Floyd" while also praising Cope for being ahead of the field, though he may have a point considering the mid-to-late eighties would be increasingly about looking back at the sixties. In truth, Cope probably was indeed ahead of the pack, especially the band he had clearly outgrown. "Sunshine Playroom", "Sunspots" and "Trampolene" would be the future which had no place for the likes of something so uncharacteristically ordinary.

(Click here to see my original review)

Yazoo: "Don't Go"

8 July 1982

"Vince coaxes a sterling song out of his synthesizer while Alf balances its metallic clip with a deep, emotion-packed vocal that gets better with every hearing."

— Ian Birch

There were a pair of mix-gender duos in UK pop in 1982 (actually there were a lot more than the two — the hair salon model pairing Dollar springs to mind as well as the much maligned Renée & Renato — but for the purposes of this study let's just assume that there were just two who mattered). Both were fronted by unconventionally charismatic women, both of whom possessed deeper than normal voices. Backing them were a pair of moody gentlemen (hardly anything special in the world of eighties electropop) and some icy synths. But there were some differences between the two groups: one was young and inexperienced, the other a bit older and veterans of several bands who either went nowhere or swiftly faded away; one hailed from the detritus of an Essex New Town, the other from Glasgow and Sunderland respectively; one was on the rise, the other was floundering.

It's possible that you were able to guess that I am referring to Eurythmics and Yazoo from the above but you may be surprised to discover which one was happily riding the Giddy Carousel of Pop while the other could only look on with envy, hoping themselves to go for a spin soon. Every mum's favourite synth-pop group would soon have its (very prolonged) day but for now it's Basildon "super""group" Yazoo's turn to grasp on to chart success for dear life.

Coming off the initial burst of success for Depeche Mode, Vince Clarke had become alienated by, well, everything. Being unhappy with hitting the charts, touring and fan adulation might prompt some to start giving life a rethink but he was promptly in a new band and back in the Top Ten within just a few months. Quitting ver Mode may seem like a giant-sized blunder in retrospect but for (a) the synth-goth overlords would have been equally synthy but far less gothic and lordly had Clarke remained their chief songwriter and (b) Yazoo ended up being the best group he was ever to be a part of.

Which brings us to Alison "Alf" Moyet. A blues singer round Basildon way, she placed an advert in the Melody Maker and received only one reply. (I used to think that they hooked when Clarked returned to his old Essex stomping grounds following his departure from the Mode and discovered her crooning Roberta Flack hits in some dreadful Pitsea pub but, in effect, she found him) While other female singers of the time were content to warble out a vocal apathy or something downright weird, Moyet must have seemed positively old school by comparison — even though she seemed to apply some punk ferocity to belting out numbers with Aretha Franklin-like power.

Her extraordinary range is on full display on "Don't Go" but it lacks a fabulous musical performance to service it. The follow-up to their poignant debut single "Only You", it feels rushed, as though they felt an urgency to get a second single out while the going was good. While Clarke may have coaxed a sterling song out of his synth, as Ian Birch notes, his synth sure didn't coax much out of him. The song itself is rather good though and it's a minor crime that it hasn't become a standard by this point. (It's very easy to imagine "Don't Go" being interpreted across several genres by the likes of Shelby Lynne or Lauryn Hill or, yes, a bloke could sing it too, Rufus Wainwright) A shame that a little more care wasn't put into the recording.

It's impossible to say if Yazoo could have been Eurythmics — although as alternate scenarios go, it's certainly easier to swallow than Echo & The Bunnymen being U2. They had superior songs to hang on and a better vocalist in Alison Moyet but they weren't as keen to garnish their material in strings or some slick guitar (a much easier proposition for Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart, neither of who played synthesizers). I was going to write that Clarke and Moyet weren't chancers like their contemporaries but she was a struggling blues singer looking to put together a rootsy group when he rang her up so they were as opportunistic as they come. Maybe they just lacked that it factor that everyone talks about. (But then did Eurythmics have the it factor? Seriously? Those two?) You don't get it factor coming from Basildon.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Dexys Midnight Runners & The Emerald Express: "Come on Eileen"

From number one hit in '82 ('83 in North America in an era when it could take several months for a hit single to make its way across the Atlantic) to staple of eighties retro, it's hard to imagine a time when "Come on Eileen" wasn't ubiquitous but the early nineties were just such a terrain for once and future favourites to be cast aside. It was a song I'd read about and wanted to hear but I was unable to do so until I found it on a dodgy Rock 83 compilation tape of my sister's. I was beside myself with joy. A departure from their soul 'n' horns sound of the previous two years, this nonetheless fits in perfectly with their run of pristine singles. Birch wonders how much better it would be if Kevin Rowland had injected a dose of humour into it but wit was never their bag. For all of us who ever figured we could get a woman into bed by showing off our record collections: how wrong we all were. (Please see Tom Ewing's wonderful review which provides vastly more insight into this pop landmark than I ever could)

Dexys Midnight Runners: "Liars A to E"

12 November 1981

"With patience it will grow, but the mass audience has very little patience. P.S. I've got my pen and notebook ready, Kev. That's my job."
— Johnny Black

A "Liars A to E" reference:

• jealous Artists
• former Bandmates
• hostile Critics
• Detractors of all stripes
• Everyone who ever happened to glance at Our Kev the wrong way

But I jest. After a modest three-week streak of SOTF's becoming sizable hits we've got our first flop since Bob Dylan's "Lenny Bruce". Indeed, as Johnny Black predicted above, the mass audience had no patience for the latest Dexys offering. And it's likely that old scamp Kevin Rowland knew it himself.

Pop stars have been railing against their critics in song for as long as there has been an axe to grind (ie forever). Artistically, these numbers seldom deliver since the inevitable invective tends to overshadow whatever creativity said artist may have at their disposal. Rowland, however, managed to build a career out of composing pop music all about his love for pop music and he put as much care and eloquence — as eloquent, that is, as one can get with such a slurred, drunkard's voice — into lambasting his detractors as he did his paeans to northern soul show stoppers and fifties heart throb crooners. In some ways his "It Ain't Me Babe", he uses the chorus to try to ward off unwanted attention by declaring himself not special enough to merit any ("But you won't want from me / Nothing else to see / So smoke on your own / And don't look at me") while offering up equal doses self-pity and self-mocking ("And good old Kevin'll be all right"). 

Of course as a Dexy slow song it stands in marked contrast to "Geno" and "There There My Dear" with their liberal use of horns and relentless grooves. It was simply too much of a departure from their rough soul sound to get many punters interested. But it laid the groundwork for how a string section Dexys might sound, something that would pay off a year later. Looking past the cosmetic changes — they were still hanging on to their boxer boots and pony tails look, the dirtbags in dungarees being still a few months away — Black rightly spots some vintage Dexy fare in the production. This could only be good old Kev — plus whoever hadn't quit or been sacked from the band at this point.

Johnny Black also happened to be reviewing the singles the last time a Dexy single was released and he seemed to enjoy "Show Me" almost in spite of himself. Describing them as "pretentious", he nonetheless found plenty to admire in their latest single. He seems even more well-disposed to them with "Liars". Perhaps song, singer, band, even their eccentrically revolving choice of image and gear had grown on him. A little patience and they'll do the same for you. Book it.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Tenpole Tudor: "Throwing My Baby Out with the Bathwater"

It could be that their alliterative name reminds me of Steeleye Span but there's something folksy at the heart of the Tudes. For all their punk/rockabilly tendencies, there's more than a little Celtic folk club singalong here. Had they been an late-eighties Canadian band it's easy to imagine them being a staple of university frosh week alongside Vancouver's Spirit of the West. Ahead of their time, then. A shame they didn't evolve into a full on folk outfit instead of letting the bathwater go "tepid".

The Undertones: "Julie Ocean"

23 July 1981

"Lush balladeering might not sound typical Undertones country, but the passionate intensity that distinguishes all their work is here in spades."
— Johnny Black

Smash Hits was in its infancy in the autumn of 1978 when along came an obscure single from Ulster punks The Undertones. It didn't exactly set the charts ablaze but it took on a life of its own, particularly as its reputation grew with the endorsement of a British national treasure. John Peel admitted that "Teenage Kicks" delighted him so much the first time he heard it that he cried and he went to his grave a quarter of a century later still rating it as the greatest single of all time. No song has ever had such an impressive recommendation — and one it couldn't possibly live up to.

I quite like "Teenage Kicks" but like many punk classics — The Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant", The Buzzcocks' "Ever Fallen in Love", The Clash's "White Riot" — I find that it typically sounds better when I sing it to myself than when actually I put it on. The iconic riff is catchier and more vigourously played, with vocals that are screamed rather than using Feargal Sharkey's more restrained approach. (It also sounds much more thrilling on an open-mic night played by misfit amateurs who have no clue what they're doing; maybe I do understand the punk ideal)

By 1981 The Undertones had long since moved on from the likes of "Teenage Kicks" but their apparent passionate intensity remained. The band seemed to grow into Sharkey's voice as they progressed and his quivering wail is the basis for their convictions. The original version of "Julie Ocean", taken from their album Positive Touch, is shorter and kept simple, a spotlight for their lead singer's affecting vocals. Rerecorded — and/or remixed — for its single release, it's twice as long with more space for Sharkey's bandmates to get their own passionate intensity rocks on. Lush balladeering in Johnny Black's eyes thus becomes overly lush, over-produced and far too thought out. You'd think they would have known better having once been punks.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Dexys Midnight Runners: "Show Me"

Soul revivalism with a slurred vocalist shouldn't really work but Dexys usually managed to pull it off. Coming from their brief period of sporting track suits, boxer boots and pony tails — sandwiched between the more familiar hoodlum dockworkers and dirtbags in dungarees phases — there's an appropriate athleticism on display here. Black praises this in spite of having some doubts about them, even going so far as to dub them "pretentious" — something he curiously fails to detect in The Undertones. Either way, "Show Me" is absolutely glorious, the sound of northern soul fanatics who won't come down, won't give in, won't let up. Plenty of passionate intensity going on here but all in service of yet another Dexys classic.