New Order: "Regret"

31 March 1993

"The world is a better place with them in it...let's just hope we're all alive to hear the next single."

— Pete Stanton

It took nearly fifteen years and roughly four hundred issues of Smash Hits' publication history for it to finally come to this: a Single of the Fortnight Best New Single for the outfit formerly known as Joy Division but which was now better known as New Order.

Being a magazine that was meant to oppose the weighty analysis of the Melody Maker and the NME, ver Hits took its time warming to the Mancuian foursome. Joy Division efforts "Transmission", "Atmosphere" and the still remarkable "Love Will Tear Us Apart" weren't even reviewed (at least not initially) and many of New Order's best loved moments received frosty receptions from the staff of the top pop mag. David Hepworth wasn't exactly blown away by the classic "Blue Monday" ("after the first twenty minutes or so, it starts to cause a tense, nervous headache..."; hey, if you're going to dump on a much-loved record then at least be funny in doing so) while Ro Newton kinda, sorta digs the brilliant "True Faith" though it wouldn't have killed her to have been clearer in saying so (though, to be fair, she's right on the mark when it comes to the so-so "State of the Nation"). Guest reviewer Wendy James is at least forthright about her disdain for the awesome "Fine Time" so there is that I suppose (plus, it is a bit of a grower). All that said, Richard Lowe liked the memorable 1990 World Cup theme "World in Motion" quite a bit even if he didn't like it quite enough to make it his SOTF. Worst of all, however, was the fact that the killer Quincy Jones remix of "Blue Monday" (aka "Blue Monday 1988") wasn't reviewed at all.

Reading the above paragraph you might detect that I'm something of a fan of New Order — and you'd be correct but for one very crucial problem: they couldn't put out a satisfying full-length album to save their bloody lives. From 1981's Movement to '93's Republic (I can't be bothered with anything they've done since then) their L.P.'s have all been different but they've all been blighted by similar problems: too many jangly, metallic guitars, too many repetitive synths, too many of those distinctive Peter Hook bass parts and too much of Bernard Sumner's word salad vocals. On a simple 45, these aren't much of a problem; if anything, they're typically beneficial to their singles.

I daresay that most agree even if there are some out there who doubtless reckon that Power, Corruption & Lies, Low-Life, Brotherhood and Technique are all "criminally underrated" (word of warning: they aren't). Most people's favourite New Order album, though, is Substance, the two-disc compilation from 1987. There's some site known as Slicing Up Eyeballs which is about how great (and, to be sure, "criminally underrated") eighties' indie music is and they're always pumping up this NO greatest hits while remaining silent on everything else they've done. As we are gearing up for Christmas 2023, a deluxe re-issue with two extra discs of remixes and live cuts is set to hit the shops. The trouble with Substance is that it concludes with "True Faith" which to my mind is where New Order really started to be great. It's hard to take a greatest hits seriously when it doesn't have many of a band's greatest hits. Which is why 1994's The Best of New Order is the far superior collection, despite its uninspiring title.

"World in Motion" gave the group a number one single but it started to look like New Order wouldn't be a part of nineties' pop. Sumner resumed working with Johnny Marr and Tennant and Lowe on the self-titled Electronic album while Hook was busy with projects of his own. Smash Hits might wonder from time to time what had happened to the likes of Pet Shop Boys, Erasure, OMD or Depeche Mode during any of their respective layovers but the relatively anonymous quartet from Manchester who had never graced the magazine's cover were such an afterthought that they wouldn't even be mentioned. It was only until they came back in the early part of '93 that anyone realised how much they missed them.

But how could we have felt otherwise given the state of "Regret" which is perhaps their finest single aside from "True Faith"? Fresh New Order singles released prior to an album (they were one of the last 'singles don't go on a L.P.' holdovers) had the tendency to make a solid but unspectacular Top 20 or Top 30 splash but this was something altogether different. North Americans, who previously didn't have much to do with them, were even paying attention. Seemingly everyone could tell that "Regret" was something special. But what was it?

New Order singles would frequently balance lyrical melancholy with irresistible dancefloor grooves but this was hardly unique to them — in fact, this was a specialty of all synth-pop acts. But a girl I was friendly with in high school called Zeynin revealed why one day during PE class. We were in the weight room when it came on the radio. She hummed along merrily to it and sang along with the chorus. "This song makes me so happy," she smiled. "I love it too," I replied. But its positivity was lost on me. Sumner's closing remark of "just wait till tomorrow, I guess that's what they all say"

Of course, joy has always been present. The tune is as close to uplifting as New Order ever came. For them to do so with seemingly little reliance on synthesizers makes it all the more incredible. I mean, I know they're present but they're difficult to detect, unless that hint of a string section is all the work of Gillian Gilbert's keyboards. Depeche Mode had also been drifting away from synths and programming at this same time but New Order's shift was subtler and less of an opportunistic creative turn. The outstanding 12" Fire Island mix of "Regret" even makes it much more of a synthy number, giving it a slight Pet Shop Boys vibe and without having any of those metallic, jangly guitars and Hooky's done-to-death bass.

Downbeat or positive, this Pete Heller and Terry Farley remix illustrates what a fantastic song "Regret" always has been regardless of genre. Its gospel piano solo towards the end makes me wonder how Marvin Gaye would've handled it. Or Curtis Mayfield. Or Aretha Franklin. Hell, let's throw in Johnny Cash, Neil Diamond and Ricky Lee Jones while we're at it — and, indeed, any of your favourite vocalists too. "Regret" holds up to all sorts of eras, styles and voices, though they'd be hard pressed to top New Order's sublime original. I think I've fallen in love with it all over again.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Duran Duran: "Come Undone"

In one of the more unanticipated comebacks of the year, Duran Duran were back and people really seemed into them again. Not so much me, mind you, but I'm the only person who likes my taste in music so what the hell do I know. For some reason, "Come Undone" left more of a mark on me than predecessor "Ordinary World", which had been the far bigger hit. Nevertheless, it was, as Pete Stanton says, "a load of codswallop". Still is too. On the other hand, it only made me appreciate "Rio", "Hungry Like the Wolf" and "Skin Trade" all the more so good on them for coming up with new stuff that didn't ruin my childhood by wrecking their legacy. I don't ask for much, me.

Rockers Revenge featuring Donnie Calvin: "Walking on Sunshine"

19 August 1982

"It stands out from the crowd because of the depth and rhythmic density of the arrangement which teases the melody with endless invention. And, leaving all that aside, it's a new dance classic."

— Neil Tennant

Looking over the charts in the eighties, it's interesting to note how often American dance music was able to penetrate the UK Top 40 while failing to garner much interest at home. Some, like The S.O.S. Band and Cameo, enjoyed early success in the States before achieving fame across the pond, while others like techno pioneers Inner City were never able to gain much of a footing at all. Of course they all found success on the R&B and/or Dance Music charts which only goes to show how ghettoised black pop music was at the time. The British, unencumbered by (musical) prejudices, just lumped it all together and let punters go out and vote with the few bob in their pockets.

Written and recorded by Eddy Grant, the original "Walking on Sunshine" probably didn't have much potential for club play. It is a dance number but better suited for a Mardi Gras parade in the middle of Port of Spain than Studio 54. Reggae adjacent, it brims with sunny vibes — even if it's let down by a horribly weedy synth driving the arrangement — and a lighthearted vocal from Grant, who may not have given the sort of powerful throaty performance with which he was often capable but one that suits this lighthearted record nonetheless.

The Arthur Baker-led Rockers Revenge got hold of "Walking on Sunshine" and added some much needed big city sizzle. Yes, the clubs got a hold of it and took it to the top of the Club Play Charts but it's just as easy picturing this blasting out of a boombox on a street corner in the middle of Harlem — assuming, of course, that radio was having anything to do with it, which, at best, was likely only selective. Perhaps no one knew quite how to classify it. I for one love how this seems to be a throwback to a wonderfully catholic New York scene. Rap was beginning to emerge, the DJ's from the disco boom were looking at ways to move on, home computers were making programming and sampling as easy as playing an instrument and there was room for funk, synth-pop, soul and reggae mixed together in such a landscape. The British were keenest to listen but only American producers, remixers, singers and musicians could have forged such an effort.

By now a committed fan of dance music, it's easy to hear this track having a profound affect on Neil Tennant the budding pop star. (Honestly, I had no idea that an offshoot of this blog would be to act as a deep dive into the psyche of the future Pet Shop Boys vocalist as he goes from Smash Hits scribe to stardom but I might as well go with it at this point) Just as important, New York's musical culture was rubbing off on him as well. All he needed was to find an NYC studio boffin of his own.

The UK took to "Walking on Sunshine" nearly as enthusiastically as Tennant but it predictably went nowhere beyond the charts that had been earmarked for African Americans and the clubs. So much so that it would quickly become overshadowed by another pop song with the same name. Katrina & The Waves happened to be white and they sort of looked like a rock band which was evidently all it took to give them a Trans-Atlantic smash in 1985, one that remains well-loved to this day. In terms of quality the two Sunshines are mostly a wash but only one of them had much of a chance of taking the charts by storm in the US. Shame.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Flirts: "Passion"

It's kind of disappointing that Tennant didn't go with this Canadian 12" import instead of Rockers Revenge. Not because I was interested to hear what this obscure all-female Canuck group sounded like that they could have charmed Neil so much (because they weren't Canadian and don't sound one bit like the Martha & The Muffins rip offs I had imagined) but because it's an early Bobby O offering. Yes, the very same NYC studio boffin that I mentioned above. The very same Bobby Orlando who guided Tennant and Lowe to recording some club faves that the public either didn't have the time for or hadn't been exposed to. Neil would soon give a stronger Bobby O record a Single of the Fortnight so I guess there's some justice. Actually, scratch that: I wish Tennant had given his approval to a sub-Muffins Canadian girl band who sang with little emotion and played guitar solos like they were Peter Hook going nuts on a bass. It could've done him some good. Granted, maybe not in the same way same way Bobby O did but still. NYC dance pop, Canadian indie, either way.

(Click here to see my original review)

Roxy Music: "Jealous Guy"

19 February 1981

"Ferry croons through half closed eyes, saxophones serenade breathily and some individual takes it upon himself to whistle for the last half hour."

— David Hepworth

It was at some point in my first year in Korea that I first took in a Noraebang, a Korean singing room. While the friends I was with quickly chose favourite songs, I took my time leafing through several of the large binders they had. I had no interest in the usuals ("Sweet Caroline", "Take Me Home Country Roads") and wanted to choose something clever. At some point I happened upon "Jealous Guy" and was impressed that they had a John Lennon song other than "Imagine". These catalogs listed a karaoke serial number and song title but also the artist. "Snowbird" (yes, I checked) had Anne Murray, "Baby I Love Your Way" had Peter Frampton: the given singers or groups were those most associated with the songs listed. But "Jealous Guy" had Roxy Music down as the artist. Roxy Music???

Now, don't get me wrong, I love me some Roxy, something I have written previously in this space. I often listen to "Virginia Plain" and think that it's the greatest single ever made. The first four albums are absolutely brilliant as is most of the fifth — though for some reason I've never warmed to "Both Ends Burning". They then went on hiatus and were never the same after they returned but they never looked foolish either. I'm not as convinced by Avalon as others are but it's still fine for what it is. I never need to listen to their later stuff but I wouldn't look down upon anyone who wished to do so.

As many probably remember (I don't mind you; I was just three-and-a-half), the shocking murder of John Lennon at the end of 1980 resulted in a flooding of the market. Long term, this meant a gradual re-evaluation of The Beatles to the point where now the grandchildren of their original fans will tell you that they are their favourite group. But in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, it was Lennon's solo material that "benefited". "(Just Like) Starting Over" had actually been heading down the chart at the time of his death but it swiftly rebounded all the way back to the top, giving him a rare solo number one. In North America, it was the singles from the Double Fantasy album that took the lion's share of the chart space but in Britain "Imagine" and "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)" were both reissued. Then, "Woman", Double Fantasy's second single, came out and Lennon remained at the top. If the British had turned their backs on him over the previous decade since The Beatles' split, they were doing everything they could to make it up to him now.

This glut of Lennon product perhaps explains why tributes weren't over-abundant at first. George Harrison's loving "All Those Years Ago" wouldn't get dropped until the spring, by which point the grief had subsided. It gave the Quiet One a Top 20 hit but an earlier release arguably would've done far better. (Tom Ewing's not-entirely-positive memories of thia time suggest that there was even a bit of a backlash, at least from some corners of the music consumer community) Paul McCartney sang backing vocals on "All Those Years Ago" and wouldn't release his own salute to his old friend, "Here Today" on the Tug of War album, for another year. This left a gap and it was filled by a passable cover of "Jealous Guy" by Roxy Music.

Originally written by Lennon during The Beatles' meditation retreat in Rishikesh, India with the Maharishi in 1968, it was initially known as "Child of Nature". Living in an ashram did him a world of good and it sparked a prolific songwriting period after years of being lost in a sea of drugs. With too many songs already in the can and a similar but slightly superior McCartney number ("Mother Nature's Son") in contention, it was withdrawn from consideration for the so-called White Album. (He would revisit it a few months later during the Get Back/Let It Be sessions; heroin, Yoko Ono's miscarriage and legal troubles all conspired to curtail Lennon's songwriting in 1969, a time when many other older compositions — "Across the Universe", "You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)", "Polythene Pam", "Mean Mr. Mustard", even the subpar "What's the New Mary Jane?" — were dusted off for potential releases) The melody stayed with him and it would eventually be re-written as "Jealous Guy", one of the high spots on his Imagine album from 1971.

Even at a time when relatively few 45s would end up being taken off albums (at their creative peak, Roxy Music typically had just one), it's surprising that "Jealous Guy" was never a single in Lennon's lifetime. Phil Spector created as many bloated, overproduced numbers as he did masterpieces but there's no arguing with the gorgeous echo he conjured up to accompany Lennon's piano introduction. While the lyrics on "Child of Nature" (or "On the Road to Marrakesh", as it would also be known) never really worked, these are thoughtful and confessional, a clear result of the much more open words on the John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band album from 1970.

Roxy's cover opens with something that sounds like an effects pedal, a tool The Beatles used a lot of in 1965. There's no attempt to ape Spector's production and they mainly go for making it sound as much like a Roxy Music song as possible. Considering how poor their recent covers of both The Byrds' "Eight Miles High" and Wilson Pickett's "In the Midnight Hour" were, they don't make such a bad job of it this time 'round, even if it still comes nowhere close to the original. On the one hand, Ferry's vocal delivery is a little too nonchalant but I suppose that it's a better option than getting too melodramatic. As David Hepworth says, the whistling goes on and on and, in general, there's prolonged fadeout — a trick Roxy Music would repeat a year later for "More Than This" — which unnecessarily pushes the recording close to the five minute mark.

As tributes go, the decision to do "Jealous Guy" is curious to say the least. They had "Imagine", "In My Life", "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Instant Karma" to choose from but they went with something from Lennon's dark heart. Not one of his songs of scorn like "Sexy Sadie", "How Do You Sleep" or "Steel and Glass" but one in which he atones for his own misdemeanours. Lennon is now seen as a bit of a problematic figure. His penchant for violence meant that many of the women in his life suffered under his fists. While some may wish to have him "cancelled", others would rather avoid having to address this thorny issue. But one person who did address it was Lennon himself. He struggled with his demons and used the medium of his songs to deal with them. He went to his grave having still not resolved all of them but at least he made the effort. When people say that we shouldn't judge similarly problematic types like Elvis Presley or Michael Jackson, it's because they "aren't here to defend themselves". The same goes for Lennon though he left a record of apologetics rather than silence. He may not be able to defend himself but at least we can try to understand.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Duran Duran: "Planet Earth"

"This isn't just dull," Hepworth complains, "it's an old kind of dull". Given how hugely successful Duran Duran would soon become (they're up for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the first time this year), you have to wonder if Heps was proud that he failed to see anything in them from the get go. The likes of The Human League and Spandau Ballet took their time having hits but the Duranies managed to hit the ground running, no matter what grouchy music reviewers thought. The New Romantics were as much old school glam rock devotees as they were punks and it's the spirit of '72 that gives "Planet Earth" its energy and charm. The "old kind of dull" is now all that skeletal post-punk and new wave that wouldn't go away; this is indeed a retread but one done with enough oomph that it hardly matters. Duran Duran would go on to do much better — as well as a whole lot worse — and this was a fine start to one of the better singles bands of their era.

Duran Duran: "Skin Trade"

11 February 1987

"Duran are apparently all quite chuffed with this single and for once, their smugness is justified."

— Lola Borg

The New Pop explosion of the early eighties (known in North America as 'the second British invasion") would have been a distant memory five years later but its legacy still cast a large shadow over the music scene. Some groups had broken up (Wham! did so amicably with a memorable farewell concert the previous summer, Culture Club had fallen apart spectacularly and Frankie Goes to Hollywood were about to follow suit) while others desperately tried to remain relevant (Spandau Ballet's gambit of going po-faced and serious worked with one single but their popularity quickly vanished, Madness had been through diminishing returns over the previous two years and were soon to re-brand themselves The Madness, much to the general disinterest of everyone, Soft Cell became impossible to sell). Yet, people like George Michael and Boy George were still properly famous in a way that a newer (and decidedly more handsome) face like Nick Kamen wasn't.

Duran Duran had kept on but this wasn't without its challenges. They desired a break following a rapid rise to the top but ended up forming a pair of pointless splinter acts before regrouping to do a very meh James Bond theme in 1985. Their records no longer had the thrill of "Rio", "Hungry Like the Wolf" and "The Reflex" and only exposed them as having suspect talents — which was also affirmed by their poor showing at Live Aid in which Simon Le Bon proved once and for all that he was not one of his generation's finest vocalists. Andy Taylor realised he no longer had any business playing in a pop group when his heart was in metal. Roger Taylor, perhaps the most in need of some kip during their proposed hiatus that never happened, decided to pack the pop life in for some rural relaxation. Reduced to the trio of Le Bon, Nick Rhodes and John Taylor (there's something not quite right about a Duran Duran lineup with only one unrelated Taylor), the group roped in Nile Rodgers to co-produce and some ace sessioners to augment the sound.

The results were mixed. The "Notorious" single did well enough but its fleeting chart run ought to have signaled that their days of guaranteed top three singles was over; in terms of quality, it has a nice, welcome back novelty about it but, as Lola Borg suggests, it didn't have the wheels to make a lasting impression. The album of the same name disappointed with just a single week in the top 40 in spite of some encouraging reviews but they knew they had an ace up their sleeves with its second single that was sure to revive their fortunes in the new year.

Yeah, about that. "Skin Trade" was something the group was extremely proud of but for whatever reason it failed to click with the public. The record spent a month drifting around the twenties before disappearing, giving them their worst chart performance since their forgettable second single "Careless Memories". For the love of god, "New Moon on Monday" did better and nobody even remembers that one. The dumper seemed to beckon but at least they were serving up a great song as they began their slide.

Putting out a great single that goes nowhere is nothing new. When Slade released the magnificent "How Does It Feel" from their film Flame they were stunned by its relative failure. "The Day Before You Came" is one of ABBA's finest moments and it just scraped the lower end of the Top 40. "Being Boring" is arguably the Pet Shop Boys' masterpiece and it somehow broke their streak of Top 10 hits. And joining them on this potential Now That's What I Call a Great Song That Almost Flopped comp (or, if you must, Spotify playlist) "Skin Trade" takes its proud place.

Wikipedia suggests that its poor showing was down to fans being turned off by their new direction and sound. Gone were Le Bon's pseudo-intellectualized word salad lyrics and production with far too much going on, which I suppose would puzzle listeners who reckoned "Is There Something I Should Know" to be the pinnacle of pop. Rodgers' funk guitar playing (with some nice power chords from future full time Duran Warren Cuccurullo) adds a nice texture to the sexiness that everyone present seems to have embraced. And, this being what must have been the most beshagged group of the decade, wasn't it about time Duran Duran began embracing their carnal side? Was this what turned people off, Simon Le Bon of all people being interested in sex?

That said, there are adult themes that might have made some want to look the other way. It's easy to listen to it assuming they'd all just been back from a month of illicit rumpo in Bangkok and I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's what inspired it. Plus, Le Bon isn't doing himself any favours by channeling Mick Jagger and Prince, two of pop's most legendary pervs. The singer did try to explain that it was actually about the exploitation of everyone and how we're all working for the skin trade but his appeal to universalism is hard to square with the lyrics, his singing and the overall performance — and, indeed, the record's banned sleeve depicting a young woman's buttocks relieved of any garments.

"Skin Trade" failed to register with ver kids but it really is the group's crowning achievement. Pop stars typically mature but few manage to keep their early energy alive and fewer still are able to do so in such sleazy fashion, embracing their true selves along the way. Rhodes and Taylor were always underrated musicians but the two really come into their own, with the former's keyboard playing being the backbone of the song (as well as the fact that he was the most accomplished musically and had a significant role in terms of production) and the latter's bass making it rhythmically their strongest outing. As stated above, Le Bon was not the greatest singer but he puts his vocals to good use: by being more like Bowie and Jagger and Prince, he became more like himself. They managed to make it through the rest of the decade free from the dumper with a tougher, edgier sound but without material close to as good as this.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Fine Young Cannibals: "Ever Fallen in Love"

Often cited as among the worst cover versions in pop history, I'll cop to once having liked FYC's rendition of "Ever Fallen in Love". It got on my wick less than many of the other hits on their second album The Raw & the Cooked (a rare LP whose deep cuts are vastly superior to its singles) and I liked its uneasy vibe. Then I heard the original by Buzzcocks and I've never been able to appreciate this second rate recording since. Former Beat members Andy Cox and David Steele should have known better though Roland Gift does his best with that little goes a long was voice of his. A nice try but woeful nonetheless.

Duran Duran: "The Wild Boys"

25 October 1984

"But please, boys, don't make a video."

— Morrissey

"I'd sooner fry an egg than make a video."
— Morrissey

Two Morrissey quotes, one from his stint in the singles review chair (labelled 'Morrissey does his bit' in very childish printing just below a picture of the man himself), another from a point that I am unable to source — though it certainly must have been stated prior to the release of the video for "Girlfriend in a Coma", the first time he did a promo that he seems to have been involved in. When he's not going all hard right (which is increasingly rare), Moz is good copy. Whether he's lambasting Band Aid ("One can have great concern for the people of Ethiopia, but it's another thing to inflict daily torture on the people of England"), being baffled by the appeal of Samantha Fox ("...I throw everything up in the air and say, 'the world is slightly derailed'.") or describing — not inaccurately — his fans ("people who wear heavy overcoats and stare at broken light bulbs"), there's always a good Morrissey quip. Sometimes funny, occasionally perceptive, often reprehensible, always negative.

This being Morrissey, I'm amazed that he didn't find some irrational excuse to despise Duran Duran's latest record. Four pretty boys (and Andy Taylor) coasting on their status as pinups would seem to be fodder for the curmudgeonly Mancunian's ire. But, then, they're just a bunch of pretty boys and aren't a threat to him. He isn't looking for musical authenticity (the man did a Twinkle cover for god's sake) and has a long-held admiration for fashionable, iconic faces. Plus, "The Wild Boys" as a song title alone must have appealed to him. He may have thumbed his nose at the likes of "Rio" and "Hungry Like the Wolf" (though I have no way of knowing either way) with their exoticism and carnality but not a song that taps into a Lord of the Flies homoeroticism (even they've got "sirens for a welcome"). I can't say that I agree with Moz's take on Simon Le Bon's performance ("Fine fiery vocals"? Not, "workmanlike singer struggling mightily to hit notes well past his limited range"?) but single is decent, not among their finest work but not a giant howler either. No one else rates "The Wild Boys" as their favourite Duran Duran song, do they?

Still, Morrissey did find the time to knock their mastery of the pop video, hoping against hope that they'd opt not to bother this time round. Hard cheese, Moz. Having previously stated that a "drunken goat" could have directed one of their videos, it's likely that their promos were spoiling Duran Duran for him. It would, thus, be interesting to see if his opinion would have altered had a naughty Smash Hits staff member managed to procure a copy of "The Wild Boys" vid and shown it to him. Gone are the yachts, replaced with a bad dream scenario of monsters coming out of swimming pools and attacking people or something. Though acclaimed by some at the time, this had to be their first promo which failed to capture the public's imagination. This meant little to Morrissey either way but I suspect he would have opted for Prefab Sprout (the rightful SOTF) or XTC or Lloyd Cole instead. For spite.

Not wanting to focus on the Duranies, I've decided to include a special analysis of every record Morrissey reviewed this fortnight.

Hazell Dean: "Back in My Arms"
Morrissey's 'Vilest Single Of The Fortnight' is trivialized a bit by describing the vocalist as a "creature" and imploring the "boys" to "stretch her on the rack". Value judgement as criticism. Song isn't much cop though.

Chaka Khan: "I Feel for You"
A "clever" record which probably means that his nibs liked it a lot more than he'd care to admit. Doesn't appreciate that it's composed by "romping travesty" Prince though my only complaint towards this otherwise brilliant single is that it's not called "I Feel 4 U": since when did the Purple Perv refrain from abbreviation?

Nick Heyward: "Warning Sign"
Moz gets this one exactly right with Nick wasting his many talents on lame American r & b. Stopped clocks, etc., etc.

The Redskins: "Keep on Keepin' On"
Does Morrissey actually like this one? They should be "canonized"? You wish them to be dead and then given their due? Harsh.

Miami Sound Machine: "Prisoner of Love"
A good line here about "stealthy eroticism which makes a life of religion madly attractive" but, sadly, inaccurate. Gloria Estefan has probably the least sexy voice in the history of pop and, if anything, it's closer to "forced eroticism". But, yeah, the song is balls.

Shriekback: "Mercy Dash (Ready for This)"
Perhaps a case of 'unspectacular record = bland review'. Could my tastes refrain from dovetailing with his?

Modern Romance: "Move On"
There are indeed worse human beings than Morrissey. But can anyone seriously think of one? (But, again, he's right)

Status Quo: "The Wanderer"
On a bitchiness roll, Moz gets to ver Quo, probably the group least likely to titillate Morrissey in any way and on any level. Right on the money.

Lionel Richie: "Penny Lover"
Not one of the high points of Lionel's eighties, granted, but Moz gets riled up far too much here, blaming the record on an "unholy amount of human misery". I suspect he'd say much the same about "Easy" and "All Night Long" and "Say You Say Me" which just means he's dead inside. But we all knew that already, right?

XTC: "This World Over"
See below.

Bucks Fizz: "Golden Days"
The low-hanging fruit so I won't castigate myself too much here for agreeing with Moz.

Tracey Ullman: "Helpless"
Or, as Moz calls it, "Hopeless". Hard to argue with him there.

The Psychedelic Furs: "Heartbeat"
American influence really irks this future resident of Los Angeles.

David Sylvian: "Pulling Punches"
Unable to enjoy depressing tunes, Morrissey isn't able to fathom the appeal of David Sylvian. Yeah, it sucks to have pop stars foisting their misery upon the public, doesn't it?

Ultravox: "Love's Great Adventure"
Not a favourite of Moz but I would've expected a great deal more irrational bile reserved for Midge Ure and his slicked back hair and bum fluff moustache and weedy tunes. Instead, he expects a revolution from the great pop chancer. Did he change his tune a year later following Band Aid and Live Aid, perchance?

Level 42: "The Chant Has Just Begun"
You have to be plenty drunk to enjoy a Level 42 record, you know. And there I was thinking you had to be a great big muso, much more interested in solos than pop songs. Thanks for clearing that up, Steven.

Cyndi Lauper: "All Through the Night"
Morrissey doesn't think Cyndi Lauper is much cop. Because of course he doesn't.

Lloyd Cole & The Commotions: "Rattlesnakes"
America has gotten to "Cousin Lloyd" too and that just won't do. I have nothing to base this on but I foresee the wheels coming off that friendship pretty sharpish. Just a hunch. Cousin Lloyd is probably better off.

Prefab Sprout: "When Love Breaks Down"
"A dirty great big fat hit"? Did Morrissey even listen to the bloody thing? Not "beautifully crafted poignant pop"? Not a "lush, bittersweet kitchen sink drama that I cannot stop playing"? I'd settle for "more spineless than an especially timid earthworm" if he hadn't cared for it.

Force MDs: "Forgive Me Girl"
A case can be made that 'bitter, spiteful Morrissey' is preferable to 'apathetic, bored Morrissey'. On the other hand, I'll take a 'reclusive, sitting on his millions, prone to cancelling concerts at the last minute Morrissey' any time over the 'Guardian-bashing, Tommy Robinson-supporting crotchety old git Morrissey' that we've sadly become all-too familiar with lately.

Scritti Politti: "Hypnotize"
Overlooking the negative things Green Gartside had to say about The Smiths (though, he still felt the need to bring it up), Moz acts as the bigger man and praises their latest record. Can't figure out if his quip about the singer having "finally mastered his Deanna Durbin impression" is a shot or not. Probably both.

Alphaville: "Forever Young"
Had Morrissey drowned the members of Alphaville at birth then he probably would have gone to jail and we would have been spared (a) some great records, (b) lots of mediocre records and (c) having to care about the claptrap that comes pissing out of the mouth of Steven Patrick Morrissey. An upside, with all due respect to Alphaville.

Siouxsie & The Banshees: The Thorn
An odd one. Morrissey likes the fact that this EP is good value for money but doesn't think much of the songs. Not particularly good value then, is it? Still, it's sort of nice that he didn't save all his vitriol for those he wishes dead and buried.

Of the twenty-four records he reviewed, sixteen he disliked or despised. (Correct that: sixteen he despised; the man doesn't do things by halves, as they say) Not being one to be content with just liking a song, he also managed to eek in some harsh words in five additional singles he actually liked, including the supposed 'Bestest Single Of The Fortnight'. That leaves us with three that he didn't feel the need to slag off in any way. Except for a suspiciously-worded review of one entrant that leads me to suspect he didn't listen to it at all and one that could be inferred as being underhand praise. Which leaves one bloody record that pleased this grumpy old crow. And, yet, I seem surprised. All it took was making a video or having a duff record or not approving of said act or not having been aborted at birth brought out his hate. You'd like for him to refrain but then he just wouldn't be Morrissey, would he?

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "This World Over"

The only record on offer that Morrissey has nothing but good things to say about. Now well into their residency in the dumper, Andy Partridge was under strain from Virgin Records to come up with something more commercial. Being as bullheaded as Morrissey, XTC's leader is having none of it and, instead, delivers a challenging and, in some places, unlistenable LP The Big Express. Happily, the singles are top notch and none better than "This World Over". Moz doesn't seem aware of how insanely erratic Swindon's finest could be which likely saved them from his scorn. Dealing with nuclear war fallout, the song seems just as relevant today with the imminent threat of climate change hanging over us all. Not that any of this matters to Morrissey: I'm sure in his mind the world has already ended ever since his critics began "silencing" him. You'd think he'd be better equipped at taking it, huh?

The Cure: "The Lovecats"

13 October 1983

"I'm solid — but solid — gone, man. You will be too."

— Ian Birch

In a write-up of her great 1995 career rethink Wrecking Ball, Stuart Maconie makes the case that Emmylou Harris can never not be a country singer, regardless of the material or how it's presented. In common with Ray Charles (who was apparently never not soul), she may dabble in other genres but only ends up countrifying them because she is Emmylou Harris. I can't recall if Maconie elaborated but it may well be best suited to be one of those pet theories music lovers carry around with them no matter what the evidence says. It feels kind of true even if it isn't. Just like when people describe The Cure, who were never not goth.

Coming off of their trilogy of Teutonic bleakness LP's Seventeen Seconds, Faith and Pornography, the group was in chaos with members departing and substance abuse taking hold. Looking to change things up, Robert Smith went about searching for new members and looked towards synth-pop for inspiration. The resulting stand-alone singles, "Let's Go to Bed" and "The Walk", are admirable stabs at something new while not quite managing to shake the goth off. With a brand new stable foursome in place (at least for the time being, this is The Cure we're talking about), Smith had all he needed to go balls-out pop.

Or is it jazz-pop? Or twee indie? (Or do they all fall under the umbrella of goth: jazz-goth? Twee goth? Pop-goth?) Labels aside, this is The Cure at their lightest. While the group was never short of hooks and riffs to plant in the mind, "The Lovecats" is about as addictive as they'd ever sound. Yet, it's very much the sound of Robert Smith in his element. The piano twinkles in sinister fashion, cats poke around the room and the whole thing is not unlike the cartoon-Gothic universe that Tim Burton would create with his superb run of films from Beetlejuice through to The Nightmare Before Christmas. Childlike horror — no wonder this was the first Cure song that ver kids embraced.

"The Lovecats" is where casuals and Cure agnostics go but it seems to be one that committed fans steer clear of. Journalist Zoe Williams considers it "the song that would make you think "Cure" if you don't particularly like the Cure, just as "Creep" makes you think Radiohead even if you don't particularly like them". (She then goes on to describe it as a "song that 29-year-olds now snog to when they go to those theme clubs where you dress up like Britney Spears" while happily reporting that "they aren't short of authentic, hardcore fans") Significantly, Smith and whoever else may happen to currently be members of The Cure recently left it out of their five-song set after Trent Reznor inducted them into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (which consisted of early indie/goth numbers and a pair of US hits, this being very much the American vision of The Cure, aside from "Friday I'm in Love" which they also neglected to play). This being their first entry into the UK top 10, it was bound to alienate some who'd been there from the days when they were just another home counties post-punk outfit but something would be lost if it were fully expunged from their oeuvre. (I must admit to building a strawman here since no one I know of has ever suggested such a thing, even if there are some who wish they'd never switched course from their goth sound)

Robert Smith looks and sounds the part — even when caressing an adorable kitten — and can never not be goth. Even if he happens to be churning out something as charming and inspired as this little goth-jazz-twee pop gem.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Duran Duran: "Union of the Snake"

Having been picking up steam throughout 1981, '82 and '83, the Duranies were quickly becoming the biggest group in the world and "Union of the Snake" looked set to officially mark their ascendancy. It did well but not quite well enough and the coronation had to be delayed a few months. But what did they expect releasing an obvious third or even fourth single as the kick off to the long-awaited Seven and the Ragged Tiger? I mean, the lead singer couldn't sing very well and many of their records were a mess (often a very catchy mess but a mess nonetheless) but Duran Duran records were never supposed to be so ordinary. It's as if they were beginning to figure out what they were doing and the Chic-meets-Roxy Music sound was never so deliberate. The first big hit from Simon, Nick and the Taylors that no one counts as their fave Duranie song, the luster was bound to come off someday. In any event, they still had that world's biggest group thing to look forward to.

China Crisis: "Scream Down at Me"

13 May 1982

"In a fortnight where so many Big Names fail to come up with the goods, this one stands tall."

— Dave Rimmer

They aren't quite the Big Names from the entry of couple weeks' back — only one Rock & Roll Hall of Famer here even though it's probably time Duran Duran got themselves inducted; sorry, that's the last I'll be bringing up the RNRHOF for a while — but there's some pretty stiff competition here, even if only on paper. A suddenly faltering Adam & The Ants (in fact an Adam Ant solo single, as this issue of ver Hits' Bitz section mentions), Soft Cell riding a wave of momentum from "Tainted Love" but quickly becoming hard to sell, ABC hitting their stride with (ho-hum) another brilliant tune, The Associates delivering a bit of a let down following the extraordinary "Party Fears Two", Blondie's first duff track in damn-near forever, Culture Club proving to be not quite ready to take their rightful place in pantheon of UK pop and XTC moving into a permanent spot in ver dumper. Step forward China Crisis!

Polished white-boy funk was all the rage in the UK pop scene of 1982, something I've already become weary of as I've been trudging through singles review pages and YouTube playlists. Fuelled by the energy of punk with the precision of Chic and Motown classics, the likes of Haircut One Hundred and Pigbag had the chops, the flair and, yes, even the soul to eek out some effective tunes that got them featured in Smash Hits and landed them on Top of the Pops and would get them a decent return on the eighties retro package tour circuit today. What they lack is a fresh take that made them more than just another bloody white-boy funk group. Again, step forward China Crisis!

Like its equally outstanding predecessor "African and White", "Scream Down at Me" has those same hallmarks of the British funk-soul boom but with elements of world music and the increasingly influential New Order added to the mix. So while the guitars chug along and the sythns hold it all together, the bass goes out on a superb solo excursion and the drums kick in some brilliant tribal rhythms. All of these disparate elements could have very easily created a giant mess but the whole thing comes together beautifully.

Quite whether the members of China Crisis themselves were happy with the results is another matter. The single promptly went nowhere and has since failed to appear on either a CC studio or compilation album. And their unique brand of indie funk started to get phased out in favour of a more sensitive synth-pop soul that resulted in some Top 20 hits a year later. Stand down China Crisis.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Duran Duran: "Hungry Like the Wolf"

Another one that failed to impress the discerning Dave Rimmer this fortnight ("...this seems curiously lifeless even by their own standards"), "Hungry Like the Wolf" is nevertheless for many where the Duranies get going, particularly in North America where it was their first hit. I seldom listen to them anymore and they don't tend to get the same sort of rotation on retro radio stations and in eighties-obsessed grocery stores as many of their contemporaries so there are some bits I'd forgotten about. Was Lardo LeBon's voice, for one, always so nasally? Did I never notice just how metal that riff (played by a Taylor) is? Did I used to think it was "Hungry Like a Wolf" when I was a boy? (Rightly since animal lust calls for an indefinite article) Lots to quibble with — this is Duran Duran we're talking about — but stupidly impressive pop has its place too.