Spectral Display: "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love"

3 March 1983

"Music for slouching 'cross the floor, loose-limbed and honeycomb centred."

— Johnny Black

I was recently browsing in a store and I began to notice that I was gently humming along with the song that was playing. I knew the tune but couldn't quite place it. I even seemed to know the words yet I still wasn't sure where I had heard it before. Yet, heard it I had since it was a song I'd written about for this blog.

Eventually I figured out that it was "No More 'I Love You's'". (The chorus sort of gave it away) But it wasn't the original by The Lover Speaks, nor the much more well known cover version by Annie Lennox from her 1995 album of covers Madusa. Actually, I still don't know who it was I was listening to but I'm quite sure I'll recognize it if I ever happen to come across it again: there can't be any other artists who'd choose to leave out its distinctive "do-be-do-be-do-do-do, ah".

The challenge of recording a strong cover is how to keep what makes it a song great while adding something to it. There's lots that can be done with "No More 'I Love You's'" but choosing not to bother with the bit that everyone remembers isn't the way to go. I would consider removing or re-writing the refrain in favour of nixing the do-be-do-be-do's. (Actress Hailee Steinfeld did an overhauled version with much of the lyrics changed but she was wise enough to know what needed to be kept around)

A look on the YouTube comments for Spectral Display's "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love" indicates that a lot of the kids listening to it now are coming to it more familiar with M.I.A.'s cover from 2010. The last time I wrote about this Dutch synth-pop classic, I referred to her version as "feeble" but I didn't go into why it missed the mark so badly, perhaps because I found it so objectionable that I wasn't about to put myself through the task of having to listen to it a second time.

I just about managed to give it that second play this time round though — and not much has changed over the last five years. While the original has, in the words of reviewer Johnny Black, "the sparest of electronic, Euro reggae rhythms", M.I.A. makes it far too Jamaican while sidestepping it's clear links with Yazoo's gorgeous 1982 hit single "Only You". And this is where her version fails: the stark melancholy just doesn't enter the picture. You'd think with lyrics like "you're gonna live tomorrow if you don't die today" she might have toned down her bouncy vocal or maybe encouraged her producer to come up with 

Otherwise, "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love" in the hands of Spectral Display is as brilliant as ever. It's one of those hauntingly lovely songs that I can never quite get right as it plays in my head; I awkwardly hum its melody, mess up the lyrics and fail to quite nail the voice I imagine Henri Overduin has (for some reason I keep thinking he sounds vaguely like Paul Young). I'm so much more used to preferring the way songs sound in my head to the actual recording that it's refreshing to have the opposite occur.

Some say cover versions are supposed to be better than the originals but how often does this ever happen? Carbon copies, needless to say, are pointless.What's left is to take a great song and add something to it in order to make a new version worthwhile. Or mess the whole thing up which only leads to appreciating the original even more. Well done, M.I.A.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Kissing the Pink: "The Last Film"

It's an unjust world that the passable "The Last Film" managed to fluke its way into the UK Top 20 when "It Takes a Muscle..." couldn't even get a sniff at the bottom end of the hit parade. I suppose I'd like it a bit more had it lost out on the Single of the Fortnight to something I'm far less willing to fight over. Nevertheless, "The Last Film" is original and engaging and, indeed, "definitely desirable", I just desire Spectral Display that much more. Still, I have to wonder how M.I.A. would've screwed this one up.

(Click here to see my original review)

The The: "Uncertain Smile"

30 September 1982

"Some of The The's earlier efforts have been a bit aimless, but this is right on the the button."

— Johnny Black

"The The were an act that I had occasional encounters with over more than a decade but who I could never conjure up much enthusiasm for, which also goes for their name."

As I believe I've discussed previously (I can't be bothered to check), Smash Hits really used to knock Prefab Sprout for their useless name. Maybe I'm just used to it or perhaps it's the fact that I love virtually everything that Paddy McAloon had a hand in but it has never bothered me. What does it mean? Who the hell knows and who cares! I spent a great deal of time trying to think up a better name for this blog than simply VER HITS but I eventually gave up and settled for what had been its working title.

It's easy to forgive a band you genuinely love for having a silly name (and, let's face it, they're all rather stupid; the only group name I care for anymore is Strawberry Switchblade) but it's a whole other matter when you're indifferent towards them or worse. In a sense, 'The The' is the opposite of something like 'Prefab Sprout': rather than sounding a bit naff a first that you eventually just get used to, it seems clever to begin with only to become tired rather quickly. It's easy to imagine Matt Johnson along with whoever happened to be with him at this early stage drunkenly jotting down possible band names only to burst out in hysterics when someone suggested 'The The' — and they liked it enough in the cold light of the next morning to stick with it. Not unlike The Be-Sharps only not as clever — nor as funny.

"All that said, what am I to make of "Uncertain Smile"? Well, I will acknowledge that it would be my choice of SOTF as well."

Did I really like it this much? "A lovely, floating melody"? "An intriguing lyric which manages to read rather well as poetry?" (Laying it on a little think, aren't I?) I clearly enjoyed it during the time I worked on the original blog post but I quickly forgot all about it. 1982 had some stellar Singles of the Fortnight — "Love Plus One", "Party Fears Two", "View from a Bridge", "Faithless", "Man Out of Time", "Pass the Dutchie" — which may explain why a record that I had some fondness for seemed to slip through the cracks. Listening to it now, I still like it but I can't say I'm as willing to gush all over it as I had been.

Context could be a key as to why it stood out at the time. I had long grown weary of all that white boy funk that had been all over the place in early eighties' British music so anything that provided some sort of alternative was welcome. Now, I'm more willing to take all those UK groups who were trying to be just like Chic as they provide relief from over-serious American R&B acts that dominated the early nineties. As long as you're not whatever it is I'm sick to death of then you're in my good books. It is at this stage I remind myself that The The weren't earnest, keeping-it-real Romeos and admit that they did have that going for them.

"Perhaps it's time I filled in the gaps, not just to see if Matt Johnson was up to churning out more equally formidable gems but also if I can catch where it all began to go south."

It's been just under five years since the last time I blogged about this record and the gaps remain unfilled. The The have been covered in this space twice and both times I've had praise for what they had to offer, even if my feelings towards 1986's "Heartland" are somewhat more mixed. Still, they were a band I never thought much of whose earlier efforts impressed me though not enough to get me to investigate "their" output further over the last half-decade. In truth, the thought hadn't crossed my mind ever since blogging about how I really ought to give them more of my time. There's plenty of time for me to explore and, indeed, lots of time left to put off said exploration. Till we meet again, The — or not.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Kid Creole & The Coconuts: "Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy"

"Although certainly a marked improvement over last fortnight's glum crop of singles, the likes of Ultravox's "Reap the Wild Wind" and The Pretenders' "Back on the Chain Gang" are pleasantly unremarkable efforts but nowhere close to this good."

I clearly didn't spend a great deal of time considering the virtues of every new release in this issue. I had started this blog intending to listen at least once to everything that was reviewed but it was something I abandoned almost immediately. (I'm pretty sure I managed to give everything a go from the first two singles reviews covered only to give up because (a) it was pointless and (b) I couldn't be arsed) Take this fortnight. While certainly there are a fair number of "pleasantly unremarkable" newbies, for whatever reason I let this memorable number two hit get away from me. (I blame it being buried at the bottom of the right-hand side of the page rather than my carelessness) A little August Darnell goes a long way but this never hurt his many quite brilliant singles and "Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy" is probably his finest since "Cherchez la femme". Sultry, cool, sleazy and funny. Deserves to have been covered by people who completely miss the song's point — and I say that as someone who isn't sure of it's point either. A good deal superior to "Uncertain Smile" so pay no attention to my nonsense from way back when.

(Click here to see my original review)

Dexys Midnight Runners: "Liars A to E"

12 November 1981

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

— Johnny Black

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Teardrop Explodes: "Colours Fly Away"

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

(Click here to see my original review)

The Undertones: "Julie Ocean"

23 July 1981

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

— Johnny Black

Smash Hits was in its infancy as a top pop mag in the autumn of 1978 when along came a single from little-known Ulster punks The Undertones. It didn't exactly set the UK charts ablaze but it would eventually take on a life of its own, particularly as its reputation grew due to the endorsement of a national treasure. DJ John Peel would admit that "Teenage Kicks" delighted him so much the first time he heard it that cried and he went to his grave a quarter of a century later still rating it as the greatest single of all time. No record even enjoyed such a credible recommendation but it remains a favourite of many who have that fondness for old school punk. 

It's a fine recording even if I personally don't think it quite lives up to Peel's tears of joy. Like other punk classics — The Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant", The Clash's "White Riot", The Damned's "New Rose" — I find that it typically sounds better when it bounces around in my head than when I actually listen to it. The iconic riff tends to be caticher and more vigourously played, the pace is faster and the vocals are screamed in appropriate punk fashion rather than using Feargal Sharkey's much more restrained approach. I've heard played by Asian bar bands and at open mic nights and even in those circumstances it tends to be more thrilling than the actual recording. I have no ear for melody and misfit amateurs don't know what they're doing but, hey, that's the punk ideal, isn't it?

"Teenage Kicks" ended up overshadowing the rest of The Undertones' stellar run of late-seventies' singles. Records such as "Jimmy Jimmy", "My Perfect Cousin" and "Wednesday Week" may not have caused Britain's hippest DJ to go all dewy-eyed but they are every bit as good as their much ballyhooed debut. The streak of Top 40 hits kept going into 1981 with the jubilant "It's Going to Happen!". An obvious throwback to sixties pop, it is one of their most confident and irresistible recordings. Yet, it stands alone on their third album Positive Touch and it must have been a struggle to come up with a potential second single from a cohesive LP lacking in standouts. It seems like deep cuts like "When Saturday Comes" or "You're Welcome" would have been more sensible options for their next 7" but someone thought otherwise. That simple and delicate number that clocks in under two minutes was chosen instead.

Johnny Black seems impressed with what The Undertones managed to do with "Julie Ocean" and, in a sense, he's absolutely right. There's not much to the original LP version but the additions pad things out enough that it was given a new life. More than doubled in length, it nevertheless avoids being repetitive. Sharkey shouts "That's typical girl!" a few times and the always tight musical unit stretches out towards the end; if you didn't know any better, you'd swear it was meant to sound this way all along.

An admirable effort but my chief sentiment towards it remains indifference. Even with the extras and longer running time it smacks of an album cut. It's possible they wanted something that wasn't "typical Undertones country" but then they shouldn't have been surprised by it placing outside of "typical Undertones chart territory". Positive Touch seemed set to establish them as an albums act to match The Clash, Elvis Costello & The Attractions and The Jam — Ian Cranna in ver Hits argued that it was their first LP to do them "justice" — but at the price of their abilities as an exquisite singles band. Some manage to make the transition from one to the other (though the best groups are able to be both at the same time) but it eluded The Undertones. They no longer made DJ's cry and no longer made the charts on a regular basis. Nice try though.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Stevie Wonder: "Happy Birthday"

"A million miles from his best", concludes Black. The twin hit single follies of "Ebony and Ivory" and "I Just Called to Say I Love You" are generally cited as Stevie Wonder bottoming out as a creative force (even if Macca is usually given most of the blame for the former) but the artist of the seventies was already in decline as the start of the eighties. It's hard to find fault in a campaign to get Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday recognized as a national holiday in the US but this limp track just about manages to do so. 1980's Hotter Than July is highly regarded in spite of it being a bit of a drop off from the heights of his '72-'76 peak to end all peaks but it lacks the heartbreaking melancholy of his best work. Now, I don't expect a celebratory composition such as this to be weighed down by Wonder's sorrow but there's little of the attention to detail in his earlier, much more effective tribute to an idol of his "Sir Duke". Basic as it is, it's remarkable that it is so forgettable. Still, kudos to Stevie for his good intentions and successful result even if bland songs always seem to capture the public's attention. 

(See my original review here)

Madness: "Wings of a Dove"

18 August 1983

"Bags of jollity and, no matter what they throw into the mix, the end result is distinctively Madness."

— Johnny Black

It seems to be an inevitability of pop that good time groups who have a mission to bring joy to the masses will eventually go melancholic — while doing everything they can to try to get around it. The Beatles pulled it off perhaps most successfully due to having songwriters who went through depression at different times. (John Lennon had his bout during his mid-sixities 'Fat Elvis' period, Paul McCartney just as the group was imploding over the course of their final year and George Harrison, well, pretty much the whole rest of the time) Glam rockers Slade suddenly became all reflective and somber with the material produced for their outstanding film Flame and promptly flounced off to the States to try their hand as an American bar band (with even sadder results). ABBA interspersed their more sorrowful numbers strategically among their bouncy party faves before they all got divorced, put out "The Day Before You Came" and decided to call it a day. George Michael had the smarts to release his darker material as solo singles while saving the joyous pop for Wham!

In a sense, Madness were the only group to fully embrace their melancholy. They all went through it together (even though a key member did depart during this period), they didn't suddenly decide to give it all a big rethink, they didn't use it as an excuse to pack it in and they didn't mask it under another name or label (that would come at the end of the eighties). There are a string of maudlin Madness singles which would only grow progressively more downbeat, reaching its apogee with "One Better Day", a heartbreakingly moving piece about homelessness, but carrying on still further as their creative and cultural relevancy began to dissipate.

"Wings of a Dove" catches the nutty ones edging closer towards melancholy, if not quite ready to resign themselves to. While I mentioned above that they would embrace this phase and go with it, there may have been some hesitation early on, possibly coming from record company executives, band management and production staff as much as the band themselves (if not more so). Previous single "Tomorrow's Just Another Day" dials back on the fun and frolics of "Our House" but the tempo is brisk and it's catchy enough not to depart from the formula that had given them a string of Top Ten hits. (A more accurate version of what they may have had in mind is the slower recording they did with Elvis Costello on lead vocals). Johnny Black seems to imply in his rather backhanded complimentary review — "Best of the Bunch though it's definitely not one of their most memorable songs", he concludes — that the augmentation of a steel band and choir only adds to the fun but I suspect that reserves have been called in to give some life to a pretty sad song — or an awfully serious one anyway. (I've heard this latter stage of Madness' career described as their "adult period", a label that isn't entirely inaccurate but one that I've chosen to refrain from using, especially since it's a term often applied to teen pop acts who make a ham-fisted attempt to grow up by producing supposedly edgy R & B)

So, just how is it sorrowful behind the obvious bags of jollity? Well, Suggs sounds more than a little downbeat in his delivery, a marked contrast from his usual winking, naughty schoolboy act. Opening with the lines "Take time for your pleasure / And laugh with love", I get the impression that either he's not entirely convinced by these sentiments himself or it's a brand of wisdom he's imparting inward. The lyrics in general are a departure from their wonderful character stories of troublemakers mucking about at school and ludicrous sexual escapades to an almost religious invocation to make the most out of life, be positive and "sing for the wings of a dove". It's all a bit self-defeating: by trying to convince us to be happy, they only succeed in coming across as sad.

As Black says, though, this is quintessential Madness, thanks largely to a bravura performance from all present. At the same time, it's by-numbers Madness: neither a standout like "One Step Beyond", "Our House" and "One Better Day" but not dragging quality standards down either. Impossible to dislike as ever but with such a high rate of great singles already in their discography (Divine Madness being probably the best greatest hits album of all time after ABBA Gold) maybe it's understandable that yet another great Madness song can be so callously shrugged off.

Full disclosure: this is almost certainly the only SOTF Madness ever received and, thus, likely the only opportunity I'll have to expound upon them in this space. We've already dealt with The Jam, The Human League, ABC, Dexys Midnight Runners, Wham! and Culture Club who were all at forefront of UK pop in the early eighties but the "chasps" that made up Madness may be the most vital of the lot. Their work is timeless in the sense that people of all ages can take to it: it's easy to imagine them being a big favourite of youngsters going to primary school at the peak of Thatcher's Britain while also enjoying a following among university students and dole queue adults — and managed to retain fans who otherwise got older and moved on from other interests. Their prolonged bout of depression may have been a step too far for most punters but it did little to affect their status as as a national treasure.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

UB40: "Red Red Wine"

A supposed favourite of yuppie dinner parties, "Red Red Wine" is easy fodder for scorn among hipsters. It's a sentiment I'd be happy to brush off if not for the fact that it's a song that's not half as lovely as it ought to be. I'd take the vocals seriously if only Ali Campbell didn't sing every damn song the same way — he's even the weak link on their sharp early material such as "Food for Thought" and "One in Ten". There's also the bad precedent this huge hit (a UK number one at the tail end of a very hot summer, edging out "Wings of a Dove") and its fellow numbers on the Labours of Love album set for ver 40: a seemingly endless list of bloodless cover versions (the nadir being an utterly charmless take on The Temptations' "The Way You Do the Things You Do" though there are plenty of other candidates to pick from); had this pleasantly bland single been a one off then it may have been possible to forgive them. And then there's the video: why on earth is Campbell singing about red, red wine while supping on a pint?

Spectral Display: "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love"

3 March 1983

"Whatever can be going on in Holland?"

— Johnny Black

I first began this project by going through Brian McCloskey's fantastic Smash Hits archive and making a list of the Singles of the Fortnight. I hadn't yet come up with the idea of blogging every SOTF at this time, I just wanted to have them all jotted down. I soon noticed some peculiarities: some acts received way too many best new record honours, others not nearly enough; there were plenty I'd never heard of before and a few I'd forgotten about completely. Some songs titles also intrigued and/or puzzled me and one I had to double check because it had to be wrong.

I first imagined "It Takes a Muscle to Fall in Love" to be about sex and the male member having to exert its muscle(s) in an amourous clinch. Perhaps, I reasoned, it even harks back to adolescent boys sporting partials and misinterpreting them as feelings of love. (I'm not the only one, am I?) Sex, sex, sex, eh? Listening to it for the first time, it quickly dawned on me that it actually refers to strength and that it really ought to be "It Takes Some Muscle..." or "It Takes Muscles...". (Spectral Display members Michael Mulders and Henri Overduin are Dutch and so the indefinite article may be down to a small error of the non-native English speaker) Love requires you to be strong: not the most original of thoughts but no matter.

"It Takes a Muscle..." isn't for everyone. If you don't like synths then you don't like synths and there's little I can do for you. I could point out that this song could easily be reinterpreted as a heart-wrenching gospel number or a tender country lament or a grand operatic piece but I suppose that will only strengthen your antipathy towards the electronica here. Effective as those potential covers could be they'd likely struggle to interpret the harrowing loneliness of the original. Continental types, such as Kraftwerk, Jean-Michel Jarre and Jan Hammer (not to mention the Berlin-period Bowie-Eno), had long been using synthesizers to depict a Cold War industrial town smokestack terrain; Spectral Display take this approach but apply it to individual despair, something that British acts like Black and The Blue Nile would soon be taking up.

Delicate and sparse, the musical arrangement is so perfectly suited to Overduin's vocal, which manages to stray oh so close into melodrama while maintaining a shred of distance. Though mired in pain, the lyrics aren't totally bogged down in the singer's own personal trauma. The song's first verse reads like he's giving advice to a close friend but the remainder delves into his own feelings of loss. He offers a faint degree of hope to his troubled confidant ("You're gonna live tomorrow, if you don't die today") which he contrasts with his own far bleaker state ("Feels like I'll break down tomorrow, if I don't die today"). Yes, he appears to be making someone else's troubles all about himself but what he lacks in compassionate friendship he makes up for with a shimmering tune that puts the listener in the position of being adviser and advisee.

With so many studio boffins of the age using synthy pyrotechnics to wow the listener, it's a refreshing change to hear electronics serve the song — a point somehow missed by M.I.A.'s atrocious cover. Whatever can be going on in Holland? I don't know but I'd love to hear what other Dutch groups were up to if Spectral Display is anything to go by.

~~~~~

Also of some cop

Rip, Rip + Panic: "Beat the Beast"

With jazz dabblage being all the rage among post-punk indie types in the early-eighties, it's only right that the stepdaughter of a cog in sixities avant-garde would be in an improvisational mood. Not so much like the work of Don Cherry on  Ornette Coleman's The Shape of Jazz to Come and Free Jazz (in addition to Cherry's own excellent free jazz-waltz Symphony for Improvisers), this is more like Lester Bowie's dixieland-meets-big band-meets-bop-meets-modern craziness style. The song could easily be something recorded by Cab Calloway but Neneh Cherry and her RRP cohorts — appropriately — rip it apart with some wickedly demented soloing that wouldn't be out of place with Bowie's extraordinary unit the Art Ensemble of Chicago. And despite what I said above about dabblage, it sounds as if they were more willing to commit themselves to jazz than some of their contemporaries. A part of me wishes this this constituted the real Bristol sound.

The The: "Uncertain Smile"

30 September 1982

"Never mind record of the week, this is the week of the The The record."
— Johnny Black

There are many acts I've been dealing with in this space who were unknown to my five-year-old self back in 1982 that I would later became familiar with. The following three fortnight's worth of entries are all of individuals who I came to know during my crucial '88-'89 year in England. (I had been considering doing a trilogy of pieces about what preteen Paul would have thought of these records in the context of their later stuff but I abandoned it when I realised how little he had to say...also I hate trilogies; nevertheless, I hope that at least some of that concept survives below) 

The The were an act that I had occasional encounters with over more than a decade but who I could never conjure up much enthusiasm for, which also goes for their name. Johnny Black mentions their "damn silly moniker" which is about how I've always felt, even if I can appreciate how the double 'the' could potentially throw people. While groups like Eagles, Pet Shop Boys and Talking Heads have bristled at being labelled 'The Eagles', 'The Pet Shop Boys' and 'The Talking Heads', it's always faintly annoyed me when people leave off the definite article from groups that tend to use them. Colin Larkin's absolutely indispensable Virgin Encyclopedia of... series lists groups as 'Beatles' and 'Clash' and — this one's especially jarring — 'Who'. I've never bothered checking but I suspect he chose not to label the present act as simply 'The'. But, yeah, it's a stupid name.

To come upon The The at this early stage has brought back memories of the bits and pieces they later released. "The Beat(en) Generation" with its irritating in-word parentheses was a Top 20 single in the UK in 1989 and was something that I recall deejays and journalists really getting behind, as if they felt it important or something. I wasn't terribly impressed. At the time, I was bothered by its faint whiff of country and western music which I had absolutely no time for. I still don't think much of it now though more due to Matt Johnson's hectoring lyrics which seemed to talk at young people living through the doldrums of Mrs Thatcher's reign rather than to them. "Kingdom of Rain" was a follow up (also taken from their Mind Bomb album) with a video that featured seahorses possibly copulating and a sullen young woman who most certainly was not guest vocalist Sinéad O'Connor. What it lacked was anything approaching a memorable tune. I would later come across singles from the Dusk and Hanky Panky albums which were equally forgettable. Finally, I acquired a promo copy of 2000's NakedSelf when I was supposed to interview Johnson for my university paper; it actually wasn't too bad but I was too interested in Gomez and Grandaddy to care too much (particularly after the interview fell through due to a scheduling conflict; incidentally the only question I can recall preparing to ask him was if The The could be anything more than just a solo project, so it's probably for the best that we never spoke).

All that said, what am I to make of "Uncertain Smile"? Well, I will acknowledge that it would be my choice for SOTF as well. Although certainly a marked improvement on last fortnight's glum crop of singles, the likes of Ultravox's "Reap the Wild Wind" and The Pretenders' "Back on the Chain Gang" are pleasantly unremarkable efforts but nowhere close to this good. A lovely, floating melody with some fine flute and sax solos courtesy of one Crispin Cioe provide a nice undercoating for an intriguing lyric which manages to read rather well as poetry. Johnson's vocal is vaguely whiny which seems to suit such a restless and insecure song. A very pleasant surprise.

My only reservation is that I keep finding myself connecting "Uncertain Smile" to Johnson's later work which I've never thought much of. Johnny Black concludes his review admitting that much of their early stuff was "a bit aimless, but this is right on the button". I agree but from the perspective of what came much later. Perhaps it's time I filled in the gaps, not just to see if Matt Johnson was up to churning out more equally formidable gems but also if I can catch where it all began to go south. Till we meet again, The.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Tears for Fears: "Mad World"

An earnest pair with a truckload of earnest songs and an earnest name, it's no bloody wonder earnest Americans eventually took to Tears for Fears. Earnestness was always their worst trait, especially whenever Curt Smith took on lead vocals as he does here. A pretty great composition that so succinctly captures depression, it is let down a bit by Smith's bland delivery. It's hard to say if Roland Orzbal's mouthpiece for humanity vocals would've been any better suited to such an individualist track so maybe he was right to give it to his more nuanced partner. Perhaps there just isn't a perfect vocalist for such personal work. Best just to sing it to yourself with as much or as little earnestness as you see fit.

Dexys Midnight Runners: "Liars A to E"

12 November 1981

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

A "Liars A to E" reference:

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

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

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

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

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

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

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

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

The Undertones: "Julie Ocean"

23 July 1981

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

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

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

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

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Dexys Midnight Runners: "Show Me"

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