Haircut One Hundred: "Love Plus One"

7 January 1982

"A band who'll have us all slipping into chunky knits and brogues before you can say Captain Mark Phillips."

— Ian Birch

Where do we go from here?

Nick Heyward's goofy yet handsome face ("Everyone keeps saying to me I look just like their brother") graced the cover of Smash Hits on three occasions. The first time was alongside fellow members of his band Haircut One Hundred just as stardom beckoned. A few months' later he had returned but this time he was on his own and he was busy formulating plans for further notoriety and success. It would be more than two years' later by the time he'd be back for a third cover and this time he was now searching for advice on how to move forward when everything had imploded in on him.

Nick Heyward only enjoyed a brief period near the top — and all at an age in which he may not have fully appreciated it. He was still in his early-twenties when he began to go down the dumper, a place he has managed to more or less remain in ever since. And, yet, he has maintained a career as one of pop's finest songwriters. Few have managed to reside in the dumper with their dignity still intact.

In a talk with former Hits staff members David Hepworth and Mark Ellen (who wrote the first two profiles on ver Haircuts in the top pop mag), Heyward has stated that he spent his youth soaking up musical influences, in large part due to his older brother's own pop music aspirations. From the boozy hard rock of Montrose and Status Quo to Yes's intricate progressive rock adventures, the adolescent Nick was open to all of it. Unwilling to disavow prog and jazz fusion, he found punk appealing because he was able to play it. It was then that he began tripping on some of the more musically accomplished new wave acts, particularly Talking Heads and XTC.

I previously had "Love Plus One" down as his own "Listen to What the Man Said" but I think that was at least in part down to the use of soprano sax on both. Yet, the Paul McCartney influence weighed heaviest on Heyward. His gift for ear-catching melodies could not have come from any other source. Yet, this song is very much an amalgamation of his myriad influences.

Recency bias favours the work of David Byrne and Andy Partridge of brainiac groups Talking Heads and XTC respectively. The former is especially identifiable with jangly guitars that also manage to stutter, the use of unconventional rhythms and Heyward spinning an oddball tale that we as listeners are convinced must have some kind of meaning precisely because we have no idea what he's on about. There's certainly more than a little of that in Partridge's work as well (this very fortnight also saw the release of XTC's lone Top 10 hit "Senses Working Overtime", a song which one would assume to be a father to "Love Plus One" but for the fact that the two are far too contemporaneous for there to have been much influence in either direction) but it's probably a little closer to the compositions of Colin Moulding, someone Heyward acknowledges as being a major influence on his bass playing.

Heyward tells Ellen all about his theory of the changing tastes of your average pop kid (basically, it's preteen Beatles and Monkees, followed by rejecting them in favour of hipper acts, then a depressing jazz phase and ending with being resigned to a happy life of yet more Beatles and Monkees) while bassist Les Nemes admits to massive funk influences while disavowing the latent Brit-funk movement. All seems well in Haircut land — even if there are hints that his bandmates are as puzzled as anyone over the those lyrics — but there are already signs that there may not have been the required group unity to ensure a lengthy tenure. While Heyward spent the seventies absorbing his older brother's record collection, Nemes along with Blair Cunningham, Graham Jones and Phil Neville Smith had their own interests.

Quite what the rest of them were into six months later is anyone's guess. This time, it's just Ellen and Heyward discussing the state of the band and plans for a TV series. All that knitwear and those boating jackets was still a part of the group's distinctive look but the singer admits that a change is likely in order for the follow-up to their brilliant debut album Pelican West. A major change was certainly forthcoming, something that, again, is just hinted at by Heyward's ambitions being far beyond the scope of a mere pop outfit. He doesn't come across as arrogant or spoiled by fame, merely a young bloke who is just interested in making the most of his opportunity.

Finally, Nick Heyward is on the cover of ver Hits to interview erstwhile punk and sometime pop star Feargal Sharkey. That's correct, he made the cover as a glorified member of the Smash Hits editorial crew. (In fairness, he did have more of a face for magazine covers than the former lead singer of The Undertones) Both had departed successful groups and were struggling with what to do next. Both, Heyward reckons, have battled with that whole 'next Beatles' nonsense which he considers to be a "kiss of death". Hits or misses, prolific pace or keeping still for a bit, he learns from the Ulster vet that there's contentment to be had in writing and recording.

Where do we go from here? If not necessarily in the direction of the career young musicians set out for then the sort of career that individuals can look back upon with pride. What I wouldn't give to have Nick Heyward's talent for just long enough to compose one song, even if it's a poor cousin of "Love Plus One" or "Tell Me Why" or "Perfect Sunday Sun". There's a reason people like Heyward make songwriting seem so easy — and that's because it's so damn hard for the rest of us.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Robert Palmer: "Some Guys Have All the Luck"

As I observed the last time I blogged about "Love Plus One", this fortnight's singles are a thin bunch. Not necessarily in terms of quality, mind you; there's a solid selection of XTC, Joan Armatrading, OMD, a post-Hall/Staple/Golding Special AKA and Orange Juice up for consideration. (I also hinted that Ian Birch made the wrong choice for Single of the Fortnight but pay no attention to what I used to think) Robert Palmer was entering his prime years of soul, rock, calypso, lounge and overall tastelessness and his cover of The Persuaders' "Some Guys Have All the Luck" is a good primer on his skills as a vocalist. Never an easy guy to sing along with and this is one of his trickiest yet. While a generation of nineties divas chose to both astonish and frustrated listeners by hitting single notes for as long as possible, Palmer unleashes his incomparable range here with soulful, Marvin Gaye-like passages through to his ability to munch on sandpaper in song like few others, Not one of his absolute best (it's no "Clues" or "Woke Up Laughing") but "Some Guys Have All the Luck" is a tasty thing indeed — and one that far surpasses Rod Stewart's unconvincing cover. (I mean, seriously, does anyone think that Rod is envious of anyone else's dumb luck? The man has fallen upward more times than he can count)

(Click here to see my original review)

Haircut One Hundred: "Love Plus One"

7 January 1982

"The band who'll have us all slipping into chunky knits and brogues before you can say Captain Mark Phillips."
— Ian Birch

It could be as a result of a post-Christmas lull but the singles review section is noticeably trimmer than in previous issues of the Hits. Whereas hapless, overworked critics like David Hepworth may have had as many as two dozen forty-fives to deal with — and that's not even considering discs that may have been passed over from the round-up due to either issues of space or sheer indifference — the paltry eleven records featured here were of such little burden to Ian Birch that they share space on the same page with the albums. Picking a favourite shouldn't have been much of a challenge.

Now, I'd say that he picked the wrong record as SOTF but opting for Haircut One Hundred wasn't a huge howler. The Cuts seem to have been a band that a lot of people quickly became high on. They'd only had one hit prior to this — "Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)" which was a cop pick a few entries ago — but it was enough to get them a very respectable second runner-up for Most Promising New Act for 1982 in the Smash Hits Reader's Poll. Recency bias, perhaps, but that shouldn't gainsay just how impressive they must have seemed. Quite why they impressed so many is another matter.

Putting oneself back in the early eighties, it must have been refreshing to hear an up and coming act that didn't seem absolutely drenched in punk. Up until now, virtually every British group to have arisen in the previous half-decade had the whiff of punk (or its offshoots) about them in one way or another. In many cases it had little to do with sound: the aggressive ska of The Specials might have emerged independent of Johnny Rotten and Joe Strummer and Rat Scabies but their presentation and live energy was more Kingston-upon-Thames than Kingston Town. Dexys were always going to be soul revivalists but punk only added another layer of grime.

But the Haircuts seemed to exist independent of all that. Leader Nick Heyward's obvious first love was The Beatles — particularly Paul McCartney, especially in light of how much this sounds like "Listen to What the Man Said". While such a grounding resulted in gorgeous melodies and some outstanding musical inventiveness, it also meant he could fall for a lack of meaning and this is where "Love Plus One" falters. We're entering a period of some lyrical mumbo jumbo that was a far cry from either the thoughtful early seventies singer-songwriters or the direct and to the point punks. Much as Birch likes this — and, to be sure, he's not wrong — he concludes his review by expressing puzzlement at the lyrics. The lines "Where do we go from here / Is it down to the lake I fear" make him wonder if they've been watching too many late night horror movies on TV (This, I suppose, being the time when serial killer flicks set in teen summer camps were the big thing). But I think even that's giving Heyward far too much credit for something I don't imagine he put all that much thought into. And then there's the issue of the missing comma: perhaps the line is actually "Is it down to the lake, I fear"; is he scared of this body of water or worried that that's the only place left to go? Either way, what the hell does any of it mean?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "Senses Working Overtime"

The one Birch should have gone with. (With an honourable mention to Joan Armatrading's typically beautifully sung "No Love" which I was tempted to write about in this space until I realised that I had absolutely nothing to say about it other than it being pretty good) Andy Partridge was all about putting meaning in his songwriting, even if it didn't happen to mean much to many punters. Wondering if they were ever going to get the due he — and the press in general — believed they were due, Birch was likely pleasantly surprised that "Senses Working Overtime" got them into the Top Ten. Putting everything they have into it, Partridge and co. perform as if this is their last chance to reach the masses. Sounding as if he's going over the edge becomes much more poignant when you later discover that that's exactly what would soon happen. (Aside from the limpness of her voice and the absurd production, a big part of why Mandy Moore's cover doesn't work is that she had no desire to enact a nervous breakdown on disc, for good or bad) The whole band chip in with some fantastic playing, particularly from drummer Terry Chambers, a striking reminder of how missed he's soon become. They payed a heavy price for this burst of success and they'd never be the same.

The Jam: "Absolute Beginners"

15 October 1981

"And if Paul Weller's lyrics won't see him installed as poet laureate during the next fortnight, they should at least help him grace the charts till his current supply of pocket money runs out."

— Fred Dellar

From one imperial phase to another: last week it was The Police and now we have The Jam. They have a few similarities on the surface — both trios with charismatic frontmen and both groups rose in popularity at about the same time. (For Sting and his crew this meant damn-near world domination whereas Paul Weller and co. had to be content with a much more parochial following, albeit one that was so fanatical that they managed the unprecedented feat of getting import-only Jam singles from Europe on to the UK Top 40) In terms of presentation and style, however, the two acts couldn't have been more different. Where The Police were older — considerably so in the case of guitarist Andy Summers — The Jam were younger, with a following that was equally wet behind the ears. Where Sting's songwriting seemed locked in a world of minute human obsessions, Weller's tunes spoke of people slipping through the cracks of Thatcherism. Where The Police borrowed from pub rock and reggae, The Jam nicked from mod, sixties pop and, now, soul.

"Absolute Beginners" is the beginning of The Jam's final period in which they began to fully embrace black music. And this was no mere blip: soul, Motown, jazz and house music would all end up defining the next ten years of Weller's career. Of course no one was to know this at the time. What's fascinating is that there may not have been much of a sense that they were heading in a different direction. Fred Dellar's review in the October 15th issue of the Hits mentions Weller's lyrical fortitude — as quoted above — as well as being impressed that they'd be literate enough to borrow the title of a Colin McInnes novel for the name of their new single. As for their new sound, there's a "punchy brass line to help things stay alive" but not much an indication that they might be heading in a new direction. Going all R & B seemed to go over His Nibs' head.

The Jam's previous single was "Funeral Pyre", which ramps up the psychedelic/post-punk fusion of their Sound Affects album to an extreme. Where were they to go after such an abrasive, jarring record? Add a horn section apparently. There's a little more to it though. Weller's guitar playing does a deft balancing act between a jangly-Motown style and some clipped new wave. If The Jam's run of sublime singles — beginning with "Down in the Tube Station at Midnight" back in '78 all the way through to the end of '82 — can take us on a narrative continuum, as I would like to think they can, then here we have Weller taking a blowtorch to his cynicism of old in the appropriately named "Funeral Pyre" only to start all over again with the unusually idealistic "Absolute Beginners". Or did Weller simply get up on the right side of the bed for a change?

We're not to know but that's beside the point. Just to have this capsule of what The Jam were up to in the autumn of '81 makes the stand-alone single worthwhile. Years later, with his empire beginning to crumble all around him, Noel Gallagher began lamenting about how singles had to take a back seat to albums and that he didn't have the freedom to release a new forty-five without an L.P. following hot on its heels. Attempting to take stock of the hubris-fuelled disaster that was Be Here Now, Gallagher expressed feeling let down at how the "D'You Know What I Mean?" single came out in advance, then the album itself was released and that it was "over almost before it had begun". He looked back in envy at his musical heroes of the eighties, The Jam and The Smiths, as acts who could churn out singles seemingly whenever they felt like it, regardless of whether they had an album to promote. The dynamic of "D'You Know..." — and, to be sure, far better singles — is that it is supposed to represent the album as a whole; stand-alone's are to be judged on their own terms, not necessarily as a signpost of what's to come but as a postcard of what's up. 

That's not to say, however, that a single is little more than a trifle to bestow upon the populace. I like to think there was a time when the single could be as much of an creative statement as an entire album. Plus, an ace three-minute pop song could only whet one's appetite for more to come. Just what could The Jam have in store next?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Haircut One Hundred: "Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)"

Horns. Loads and loads of horns. Well, three really. This isn't the fairlight synthesizer nor a Bob Clearmountain-esque big drum sound but there's something intrinsically eighties to pop songs with a horn section. Well, not really but they do crop up on the SOTF as well as on Orange Juice's "L.O.V.E...Love" and on this little firecracker. Dellar admits throughout various selections of this fortnight's singles review page that he wants to turn that mother out and this is the best one to get down to. A very youthful-looking Nick Heyward leads his Haircut chums through something that Talking Heads could very easily have recorded with a bit more edginess but without nearly this much passion.