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 Ridgley

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!

Postscript: Gosh the above was a little harsh. I guess I really was bored stiff with all those horns and all that pasty-white soul that had taken over British pop during much of the eighties. "Don't Try to Stop It" really isn't so bad and I'm not even sure it deserves to be lumped in with the likes of Dexys or JoBoxers anyway. Kevin Rowland may have sung about "poor old Johnnie Ray" but it seems like the members of Roman Holliday might have actually listened to the man. I suppose I was salty that George didn't name the vastly superior "Forbidden Colurs" by David Sylvian and the late Ryuichi Sakamoto as his Single of the Fortnight, which his bestie Andrew would have no doubt concurred with. (Oh, snap!)

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Marillion: "Garden Party"

With Genesis already subsumed into Phil Collins' solo career (honestly, was there any difference between the two by this point?) it was only right that the quintet that made up Marillion was around to make the pop kids aware of prog rock — even if the vast majority of them didn't want to know. Good on Fish and whoever else that made up his old band by making the four-and-a-half minutes allotted to "Garden Party" seem like it takes over an hour to get through: there's a kind of value-for-money to their knack for prolonging time. Like much of the prog I've heard, "Garden Party" is enjoyable enough musically but the lyrics and vocals drag it down. (Is it any wonder that Emerson, Lake & Palmer's extraordinary nine minute instrumental "Fanfare for the Common Man" is the genre's high point?) Thankfully, Marillion would get better by out Genesising Genesis with the marvelous single "Kayleigh" and the Misplaced Childhood album. Take that Abacab.

(Click here to see my original review)

George Michael: "Heal the Pain"

6 February 1991

"She better watch out for that stubble though, it could be a mite prickly."

— Mark Frith

Panayiotou v. Sony Music was a legal dispute that would become, in retrospect, the beginning of the end for George Michael as a pop star. Sales of his second album Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1 had been disappointing after the blockbuster success of solo debut Faith and the singer argued that his record label hadn't promoted it well enough. Where mogul David Geffen had once taken Neil Young to court for putting out "uncharacteristic" music, now a major pop star was suing his record label for not having his back. Strange days indeed.

Even if Sony/CBS/Columbia/Epic (or whatever they were calling themselves at the time) had been negligent it wasn't as if George himself was doing the promo rounds himself. Having been everywhere for much of 1987 and '88 (as well as being prominent over the previous four years as a member of Wham!), he decided to take a step back. He famously refused to appear in the videos for Listen's singles, he shied away from interviews and seemed content to let the music he was putting out speak for itself — hence the album's title. If the public had become tired of him during the eighties, he was doing everything he could to make sure that overexposure wasn't going to be a problem in the nineties.

Listen Without Prejudice did sell as well as its predecessor but creatively it was streets ahead of Faith. Loaded with hits, his debut lacked consistency and it had been padded out with a bit of filler. The album sold like mad around the world with it also producing six hit singles of varying quality ("Monkey", the weakest track on the album, somehow managed to get to number one in the US but it wasn't even deemed good enough to make the cut for his 1998 double disc greatest hits collection). He had entered Michael Jackson-Madonna-Prince levels of fame and then chose to walk away from it. His work in 1990 is a reflection of this. Normally, pop stars who go all serious end up losing something along the way; George Michael wasn't like normal pop stars.

"Praying for Time" just had to be a hit single. Follow-ups "Freedom '90" and "Waiting for the Day" each did their part in the promotional game. But once those three records were out of the way there wasn't much else on Listen Without Prejudice worth bothering with, at least in terms of chart potential. In truth, there didn't need to be any singles released off of it, a practice I suspect he would have been open to. For their part, British fans seemed happier just buying the album: debuting at number one the previous September, it wandered around the charts for several months, enjoying a bit of a revival at about the same time that "Heal the Pain" wasn't exactly killing it on the Top 40. Singles were becoming a tool to sell more albums.

I hope that many people bought Listen upon hearing "Heal the Pain". While not suggesting anything like a hit, it probably represented the LP better than the two previous (faster-paced) records that preceded it. Like this one? There are plenty more deep cuts just like it. While chart placings like 23, 28, 31 and 45 (the brilliant "Cowboys and Angels" had even less business being issued as a single) are underwhelming for someone who used to put out a string a of guaranteed Top 10 smashes, George Michael had become an albums artist — it's just too bad he didn't put out all that many albums from this point on.

Reviewer Mark Frith seems to be on the defensive as he praises "Heal the Pain". There was the feeling at the time that Michael had become pretentious. Robert Smith spent the bulk of his review of "Waiting for the Day" the previous October trashing him as "offensive" and a "charlatan" (which only makes me wish that he had recorded with Tim Burgess). Frith foresees listeners concluding that he had become the "most boring person in the universe" but that could just as easily have been the case with Faith singles "One More Try" and "Kissing a Fool".

In light of the next (and, sadly, last) quarter century of George Michael's life, "Heal the Pain" takes on a whole new dimension. Rather than pledging to be the one to make it all right, it's inevitable that one hears it as he being the one whose pain is in need of healing. A simple cut-and-paste job of the lyrics lends a whole new poignancy to the song's message: "you tell me you're cold on the inside", "he must have really hurt you" and "who needs a lover that can't be a friend" become heartbreaking when you become aware of Michael's own inner turmoil. Had he actually been communicating to the "woman of his dreams" (are you sure about that, Mark?) then he certainly would have been laying it on thick; but as a message to himself, it only feels like more of a cry for help. Great a song though it certainly is, it isn't the easiest listen in the world.

Michael would lose his suit against Sony and the case did him no favours in the public eye as well. Describing his situation as "professional slavery" didn't get him much sympathy from those of us without multi-million dollar recording contracts. The man had already been a bit of a recluse but now he wasn't even putting out new music. He may have been unsatisfied with how Listen Without Prejudice had been handled but it was probably the only time that he managed to strike a balance between fulfilling his duties as a pop god while not allowing his status to overtake him. I just hope he managed to heal some of his pain as the years slipped by.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Railway Children: "Every Beat of the Heart"

Previously reviewed in ver Hits just shy of a year earlier (and already covered in this space back in May; what can I say, I'm a huge sucker for this one). In the interim, "Every Beat of the Heart" only just managed to crawl into the Top 75 but then somehow found its way at the top of the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks (now Alternative Airplay) chart in the US while subsequent singles from album Native Place stiffed back home. But it had been granted a second chance here in the early part of '91 and it wasn't going to piss the opportunity away this time. Top 30! Top 25 even! (The Top 25 is a thing, right? Right?) A well-deserved hit at last! And it's still glorious. Once again, it got jobbed out of the Single of the Fortnight but I'll take any opportunity to just to remind myself that those horrible teenage years of mine had their moments.

George Michael: "Praying for Time"

8 August 1990

"...the type of record you sort of drown in."

— Chris "Toffer" Heath

It never seems to occur to artists, management and record executives that massive success is not likely to be repeated. Fleetwood Mac's brilliant Tusk album was initially considered to be a flop because its sales were a small fraction of its predecessor Rumours. There was talk in the late-eighties that Michael Jackson had been disappointed by Bad "only" selling a third of predecessor Thriller. Oasis worked in cahoots with label Creation and their publicity team in a ham-fisted attempt to get third album Be Here Now to be just as big as (What's the Story) Morning Glory? But given how George Michael attempted to follow-up his ginormous, multi-million seller, he either (a) knew it couldn't be done or (b) didn't care either way.

Michael had not been gone for long by the time he had returned following his monstrously big Faith album. His first solo LP had sold millions and millions of copies and six singles were released from it. While this resulted in the law of diminishing returns setting in for each subsequent record in Britain, nothing of the sort happened in the US (opening single "I Want Your Sex" would fail to top the Hot 100, a feat not repeated until final offering "Kissing a Fool" some fifteen months later). He toured Faith to death and lavish promos for all of its singles were shown regularly on MTV and other video channels and shows around the world. The man was everywhere — and if the public hadn't quite tired of him, he had certainly tired of fame.

Yet, he didn't want to vanish entirely. Instead of withdrawing completely, he kept the product coming while easing himself away from the spotlight. Famously, the singles from his latest album Listen Without Prejudice Vol 1 were going to be released without accompanying videos (though this would quickly be altered when Michael bowed to record label pressure by allowing promos albeit without him being in them). The cover featured a crowd of people from the thirties or forties at a beach — I wonder if any of them had prejudices of one kind or another — in black and white. And there was that album title: as dour as anything either New Order or Sting had used for any of their LP's but with a hectoring quality unlike anything before it. One of the most famous faces in the world was no longer being seen and he was putting out an album with a stark title and cover art: at least the songs inside went well with the package. (The irony of Michael's attempt to steer clear of making music videos was it would free him up to become a more prolific artist. Legal battles with record label Columbia and personal troubles scuttled whatever momentum he may have gained from discarding pop superstardom and he wouldn't put out another new album until 1996's Older. It's hard to say if a trouble-free life in the early-nineties would have got him to record more but I suspect his muse was fussier than he let on)

"Praying for Time" was first up from Listen Without Prejudice and its release was met with some enthusiasm but it was nothing compared to the ludicrously hyped "Bad" by Michael Jackson or the controversial "Like a Prayer" by Madonna. No obnoxious twenty minute promo with a narrative no one cares about, no Catholic League-threatened boycott to overshadow it, jut a plaintive song that we were meant to listen to...without prejudice, though we also had the luxury of reading along to the ultra simplistic video of the song's text.

I have to say that I wasn't terribly impressed at first. While I would very quickly tire of songs like "Winds of Change" and "Right Here Right Now" celebrating the end of the cold war, this felt like too much of a depressing attempt to spoil the party. 1990 was a strange year in which there should have been a renewed sense of optimism in light of the Berlin Wall having been toppled and the release of Nelson Mandela from prison but recession, environmental issues and the oncoming first Gulf War made things seem even gloomier. In the UK, Margaret Thatcher was about self-destruct but George Michael was the party pooper who wanted to remind everyone that things weren't getting any better.

Over time, however, I have come to appreciate "Praying for Time" much more. A lot more in fact. The early part of the twentieth century has not exactly been a time flush with optimism so the song isn't able to play the spoiler so much as it simply soundtracks the current state of the world gradually coming undone. Back in the nineties it was easy to pick on professional athletes and pop stars for being the greedy that Michael takes shots at but now they're rightly seen as the low hanging fruit. Billionaires and autocrats control everything and they're not about to start sharing the world's resources now. 

Michael's melancholy side always resulted in his best records — "Careless Whisper" is remarkably mature for such a young songwriter, while "A Different Corner" is simply one of the most beautiful songs you're likely to hear; the slower, more considered numbers on Faith remain that album's best tracks — but this was something altogether different. It isn't especially musically complex but the arrangement and production are first rate; it would have been very easy for Michael to have decided to drown the recording in melodramatic strings but the lonely horns that appear from time to time are much more satisfying. As many, including reviewer Chris Heath, point out, there's no chorus but in a way it's almost all chorus — or, better yet, it's all build-up to a chorus that never comes.

"Praying for Time" continued the trend from the Faith album of his singles in the US vastly outperforming how they did back in Britain. Yet, he was at the end of his imperial period stateside while fans in his homeland would remain loyal. Several tracks off of Listen Without Prejudice would be released as singles but they all gave him his worst chart showings to date. Becoming a Howard Hughes of pop had come with a price. And yet, what did it matter in the end? Sales fell off but they probably were going to anyway and he was still one of the biggest pop stars on Earth. He still had fans that would remain in spite of lengthy periods of silence and some bad publicity. He may have rejected stardom but there were many who had no interest in rejecting him.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

World Party: "Way Down Now"

Ah power pop: traditional, simple and oh-so predictable. On the other hand, members of these groups tend to have top quality taste in music — it's just a shame they aren't able to make much of their own. Luckily, Karl Wallinger is one of the more talented power poppers out there. I'm not much of a fan of World Party but they don't make me roll my eyes so I'll give them that. "Way Down Now" is one of his finest compositions, thrilling and good fun and with hidden depths to the lyrics that you hardly notice because of all those power pop chords and riffs and stuff. Sure, it's traditional, simple and oh-so predictable but these are trivial matters to overlook when you're talking about a song as good as this.

George Michael: "I Want Your Sex"

20 May 1987

"Good grief. What on earth has happened to George Michael?"

— Barry McIlheney

This issue of Smash Hits happened to come out on my tenth birthday. Hitting the double digits seemed to get me feeling more mature. I remember making a conscious decision at the time to stop calling my parents 'mummy' and 'daddy' and I began to feel the onset of puberty when my folks presented me with my first stick of deodorant (which, for some reason, was more their idea than mine). Boys my age began taking their lunch to school in brown paper bags and I followed suit, lunchboxes being very much a throwback to childhood. Always tall for my age, I was occasionally asked if I was older than my classmates, thereby making my one really striking feature something of a negative (did everyone think I was this giant dolt who'd been held back a couple grades?). 

But I was still very much a child in other respects. I never missed Saturday afternoon wrestling on TV (or I'd tape it if I had basketball or swimming lessons), I still read comic books, still played with toys and still met the boys in my neighbourhood for street hockey. And sex was something I didn't want to think about. Pop songs weren't supposed to make me feel uncomfortable. Some of the boys at my school were really into a tune called "Boom Boom (Let's Go Back to My Room)" which they played on a (surprise, surprise) boom box and sang along with at full volume. I hated it — even more than I hated "I Want Your Sex".

(Nowadays I'm far less of a prude but I have another objection to the song: its wonky syntax. Sure, I Want Your Body, that's something people say. I Want to Have Sex, of course. But I Want Your Sex? Having a determiner in front of such an intangible concept is highly irksome. But I imagine I'm alone on this one, just as I find Eurythmics interchangable use of this and these in "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" irritating but which fails to bother anyone else that I've ever met)

When "I Want Your Sex" dropped in the spring of 1987, much of the hubbub surrounded its supposedly racy video. In truth, it was never that bad and the suggestive movements of bodies under silk sheets paled in comparison to the female frontal nudity in U2's promo for "With or Without You", which wasn't banned or placed only in late-night time slots. But I hadn't been aware that the song itself had been controversial, with an embargo on daytime play on the BBC's Radio 1. Again, this had been a lot of to do over very little. The explicit title masked what was a very responsible message of monogamy. With AIDS spreading and panic over the virus spinning madly out of control, you'd think a pop song all about enjoying rumpo with one person would have been welcome. Not that any of this bothered me in the slightest: sex was gross and singing about it was even more disgusting.

I've written on here previously about some of the ills of the 12" single. Basically, far too many of them were either pointlessly extended, had extras tacked on poorly or were given a lousy dance remix — or, indeed, some were subjected to all of the above. But my big problem with them as a boy was I had no time for anything over four minutes. Double that amount and I would have been seriously tempted to hit fast forward on my Walkman. Add on more and said artist would have been dead to me.

Nevertheless, "I Want Your Sex" makes a good case for length over brevity. Divided into three "rhythms", the so-called 'Monogamous Mix' clocks in at a protracted thirteen minutes but with each part serving a purpose. The first part ("Rhythm One: Lust") is the song that radio and TV mostly chose not to play — and is the section that Barry McIlheney is looking at here. The debt to Prince is obvious, especially in the verses that start with "I swear I won't tease you". It really shows you how overwhelming the Purple Perv's influence was over British music of the time when even a figure like George Michael wasn't immune. (He would tell Chris Heath that he no longer had any significant domestic competition and that the next move would be to take over America: he would be the last British pop star to talk over conquering the US without have the stench of hubris all over him)

As though the public hadn't missed much what with it being banned and all, the second part ("Rhythm Two: Brass in Love") is probably much more familiar, appearing on the soon-to-be-released debut solo album Faith (tipped in a June issue of ver Hits as possibly to be called Kissing a Fool) as well as the compilation Ladies & Gentlemen: The Best of George Michael. Why this middle section is so well-known is beyond me, being just a glorified breakdown. Sure, the funk grooves are well done and a clear indicator of Michael's facility with a tune but where's the song? Oh yeah, it was all left behind in the first part.

Well, mostly. The third and final section ("Rhythm Three: A Final Request") is much slower and more in line with seduction. You can practically smell the sandlewood oil burning as he plies his conquest with gin and tonics. Perhaps surprisingly, this part doesn't owe much to Prince and seems to be a genuine plea from Michael himself. I respect what he was trying to do here (and I appreciate his motivations behind the song in general) but I'm not crazy about the results. Having topped the British charts a year earlier with the reflective "A Different Corner" (vastly superior to "Careless Whisper" if you ask this particular blogger), it was clear that there could be a great deal of depth to his work. He could do better and he eventually would. He just had some growing up to do and he wasn't the only one.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Suzanne Vega: "Luka"

Yet another one that should have been SOTF, "Luka" is Suzanne Vega's biggest hit and signature song. While the narrative of child abuse is poignant, the undercurrent of the adult stranger helplessly trying to be there for a youngster who is depressingly bogged down in the reality of the situation ("Yes, I think I'm okay / I walked into the door again / If you ask that's what I'll say / It's not your business anyway") makes it even more touching. Vega's girlish, pixie-like vocals match the lovely melody and it makes me wonder just who is the naive innocent in this story. The "You just don't argue anymore" line is used a lot and it seems to hint more at spousal abuse than beating a child which makes me wonder if the song's roots were significantly different than what eventually came about. Even the eighties' production can't ruin such a fantastic single.

Aretha Franklin & George Michael: "I Knew You Were Waiting (for Me)"

14 January 1987

"So could this be post-Wham! George trying to reach a more "serious" audience by teaming up with a "soul legend"? Yes, it probably could."

— William Shaw

1987 is now upon us and thus (a) it is now officially the late eighties and (b) the younger generation of pop stars was beginning to wake up to the reality of the post-Live Aid landscape. Artists in their forties were no longer commercial poison and many began to be seen in much closer proximity to the likes of Phil Collins and Sting than they would have been at the beginning of the decade. The burgeoning compact disc boom meant that reissues were viable ('87 being the year that The Beatles' back catalog was released in the new format, giving the Fab Four a new found relevance — but more on them in a few months) but many of the dinosaurs were having success with new material as well. Younger acts were suddenly in danger of falling behind and they began dialing back on the synths and getting all roosty. Others went for the cross-generational duet.

Soul music had been the basis for a lot of figures in British pop of the eighties, a fact not lost on at least one high profile star from twenty years earlier. Aretha Franklin was already aware of George Michael as early as 1984 when "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" hit number one in the United States. Immediately recognizing his talent, she made a play for his compositional services only to be turned down due to the young pop star's modesty, considering it "ludicrous" that he could ever write a song for her. Aware that she had to get with the times or remain a cloistered relic of the past, she she was keen to strike some new musical allies, many of whom happened to be British. In 1985, she teamed with Eurythmics on the hit single "Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves", a song that gave a spark to the often clinical and lifeless work of Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart. The following year she did a brave but uninspired cover of "Jumpin' Jack Flash" for the Whoopi Goldberg movie of the same name with a guesting Keith Richards on guitar. Yet, the guy from Wham! remained reticent. Fortunately for her, the songwriting team of Simon Climie (who would soon have pop success as one half of Climie Fisher) and Dennis Morgan weren't so shy — though perhaps they should have been.

And about that song of their's: it's not terribly good, is it? William Shaw says it's "not up to much" (and this is his second SOTF on the bounce to be given his thumbs up in spite of the shoddy songwriting) but if anything that's an understatement. Tom Ewing considers the lyrics to have been written using a "set of gospel magnetic fridge poetry" which is harsh but sadly accurate. Luckily, Franklin gets the blustery, over-the-top nonsense which she was able to belt out as only she could; Michael's lines are much more restrained about having "made it through the heartache" and how he "just laugh(s)" at all the disappointments (how very big of him).

It's a vocal dream match and they both do well even if there's no doubt who's the star. Franklin gets top billing (doing the duet was the brainchild of her very hands on record label boss Clive Davis and Michael was just on the cusp of the mega-stardom he would reach with his album Faith and its dinghy-load of hits later in the year; the majority of generation gap match-ups from "Streets of Bakersfield" by Dwight Yoakam and Buck Owens to "Justified and Ancient" by The KLF and Tammy Wynette gave main artist credit to younger acts with their older partners getting a 'featuring' or 'with' in front of their names) and those lung-busting Ahhh's are what everyone is expecting. The real highlight, however, is her gospel-influenced responses to Michael ("I know you did") which, for whatever reason, he doesn't reciprocate. At any rate, this is still one of his best vocal performances and would anticipate his beautiful singing on 1990's Listen Without Prejudice.

"I Knew You Were Waiting (for Me)" is an enjoyable record despite the dodgy songwriting and overblown production but it's hard to escape the feeling that a lot more could have resulted from such a collaboration. Having a song at the ready probably meant that the pressure would be off Michael, who then jumped at the chance of recording with a musical idol when he had previously been so reluctant. Yet, he was one of his generation's finest pop songwriters and would surely have come up with something more inspired than this cliche-fest. Notably his only hit single up until the live "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" (also a duet, this time with Elton John) in which he didn't get a writing credit, it ended up being a warning shot that he was quickly on his way to the very top of the pop world. As for Franklin, it turned out to be her last big moment even as she kept looking out for others sing alongside. The people she began working with tended to be American (Whitney Houston), older (again Elton John, gosh he gets around) or both (The Four Tops). She would have done better to look out for someone on the rise — say, Janet Jackson or Tears for Fears — who was also brash enough to offer a song for her to sing. That's all she wanted.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Smithereens: "In a Lonely Place"

Damn Suzanne Vega was something else back then. The Smithereens were just another solid American college rock group, albeit not one that stood out in any way. But with "In a Lonely Place" she provides the finishing touches to an already lovely song. Hard to say how this would have gone over on college radio and in student union hall concerts but it was appreciated enough in the UK for an sizable indie hit. Its heartbreak is real enough but it never descends into melodrama or self-pity. Maybe there was much more to these Smithereens than I had assumed; the fact that they got Vega to sing with them alone makes me question my previous antipathy.

Shriekback: "Hand on My Heart"

19 July 1984

"The atmosphere of the whole piece is in fact rather menacing, but the subtle rhythms and constant pace make it more than listenable."

— Muriel Gray

1984 would prove to be a key year in the eighties and not simply because it was the first time I started to become aware of the culture. Blockbuster albums by Prince and Bruce Springsteen sold and sold and sold, MTV was becoming a phenomenon and a new generation of stars were on the way up. It was perhaps the first year fully free of the 'eighventies', the interregnum of the end of the previous decade merging into the current one, as coined by pop journalist Taylor Parkes. Though clearly raised on punk and disco and the like, Madonna and Frankie Goes to Hollywood seemed to operate free of the era that preceded them. Duran Duran and Culture Club and Eurythmics and even the bloody Police seemed fully aware that the spirit of year zero was over and that it was 1984.

That's not to say that there weren't holdovers. Muriel Gray had a background in a Scottish punk group and became a presenter for The Tube, a program very much in the spirit of launching the kind of groups that began to take off during the new wave/post-punk boom, and a single like Shriekback's "Hand on My Heart" is just the sort of thing that would have appealed to individuals who were already growing nostalgic for the music of a half-dozen years' earlier (which must have seemed like a long way off by the mid-eighties). That they were led by Barry Andrews of XTC and Dave Allen of Gang of Four only ups the ante in the throwback states. Like new pop never happened.

I don't know whether to tip my hat to the lads in Shriekback for trying to carry on with new wave or to dismiss them as out of touch. Certainly post-punk contemporaries Talking Heads — to whom "Hand on My Heart" owes a sizable debt — had long abandoned their angular guitar rock in favour of so-called world music beats and soul music. (1984 being the year of their outstanding concert film Stop Making Sense, in which the group's CBGB roots are barely hinted at) Andrews' former bandmates in XTC were busy carving out their niche in challenging indie pop to ever-diminishing numbers — but, to their credit, they were trying to move forward. Plenty of new wave artists were around in the mid-eighties and a good selection of them had moved on. (Whether they remained successful or not is another matter) Still, much like boogie rockers remaining boogie rockers to the very end, I can't help but admire such a hard-headed refusal to adapt with the times. With some prog rock cred (XTC were always the post-punk band most welcoming to old school Genesis and Yes die hards and Andrews would subsequently join The League of Gentleman alongside King Crimson guitar hero Robert Fripp), they could always fall back on the excuse that they're the ones who are really moving forward while being but a mere retread.

All this would be just bluster if "Hand on My Heart" proved to be a good record but it spectacularly fails there too. The old new wavers had the element of punk rock thrill to fall back on which this single is bereft of. I respect Muriel Gray for picking it since that's what she dug and I suspect that Shriekback wouldn't have been able to pull of any kind of effective modern pop so perhaps it's for the best. The public weren't especially convinced —top sixty! — but they got themselves a SOTF and an obscure blogger writing about their lame record. Could've been worse for a group stuck in the eighventies.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

George Michael: "Careless Whisper"

"George grows up!", exclaims Gray. Pop stars suddenly going all mature and serious rarely works - The Beatles probably only managed it because they did it so gradually that few even noticed - but George Michael is the exception. Smartly dropping 'Wham!' from the credits (even though it appears on their second album Make It Big with Andrew Ridgeley in the rare position of being listed as a co-writer), Michael was able to get himself a new identity as a solo artist free of his happy-go-lucky, shuttlecocks-in-the-shorts image. Gray isn't entirely convinced by this new direction "...just a touch too American to be completely successful") but she must have seen — as surely all did at the time — that this was the way forward and Wham! weren't long for this world. Hardly anyone would have predicted, however, that George would never quite manage to better this.