Ian Dury: "Spasticus Autisticus"

3 September 1981

"Personally, my flesh crawls each time I hear him shout "I Spasticus". And it hurts so good."

— Pete Silverton

I last blogged about this Single of the Fortnight way back in May of 2018 when VER HITS was just over a month old. I have to admit that I didn't really know what I was doing at that stage and it shows. Basically, I read Pete Silverton's review a couple of times, I listened to "Spasticus Autisticus" repeatedly and I took a look at the song's Wikipedia article: my piece on it just sort of wrote itself. Looking at it now, I have to say that it isn't one of the more hopeless posts I've made on this blog. I like that I related the disabled supposedly being patronised to the then-current issue of Me Too but I made the mistake of not looking into it a bit more. It might have helped had I flipped through this very same issue of ver Hits, one that included an interview with Ian Dury. How did I manage to miss it?

Titled 'Body Language', this feature is a single page spread which includes the lyrics to "Spasticus Autisticus', a short write-up by Mike Stand and a photo of his nibs. In addition to Dury himself, Stand also speaks with Carolyn Keen, press officer for the International Year of the Disabled People campaign. While the singer is said to have been critical of the IYDP, he doesn't express such feelings here. Instead, his target is people who fail to see the humanity in the inflicted. Dury relates meeting a fan backstage with cerebral palsy who happened to be well educated. People judged him on his condition, failing to see that there could be a thoughtful, sensitive person inside. This, more than Dury's bad leg caused by childhood polio, spurred him into composing perhaps the greatest song about having a disability.

The single caused offence in some circles. DJ's didn't want to have anything to do with it, which no doubt aided its chart failure. As Keen told Stand, "I would have thought the thing for radio stations to do would be to play it and then ask whether it was offending anyone and if so why?" As this quote indicates, the IYDP was supportive of Dury's statement. They understood that it was about how the public should "judge on my abilities, not my disabilities". Yet reaction to it was so poor that the single would end up being quickly withdrawn.

Those who were offended and those who didn't get the chance to hear because of those who were offended ended up missing out. Dury's creative spark was on the wane with the soon-to-be-released album Lord Upminster a disappointment. The eighties wasn't as receptive to a music hall punk, though it should be noted that he was never exactly a hit machine even when he was at his peak. While "Spasticus Autisticus" might have nabbed a spot somewhere in the Top 75, sufficient airplay would not have guaranteed that it would have joined "Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick", "What a Waste" and "Reasons to Be Cheerful Part 3" in the Top 10. The public had always been selective when it came to the chief Blockhead — "Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll" must have missed the charts because it was also deemed too offensive — and this was no exception.

In a way, this is vintage Dury. That facility with words, that louche English charm, that penchant for shifting from one style to another: all are present and correct. But this is a protest song, something that "Billericay Dickie" was not. As Silverton notes, it's harder edged than anything he had done in a long time. If he was a minor national treasure in Britain (something that I brought up the last time), he wasn't languishing in that Sid James-Michael Parkinson cheerful entertainer to the masses mode. His "courage and bull-headed determination to be himself at all costs" was put to the test in a song that laid everything painfully bare.

Not many are able to take such graphic content and turn it into something so thrilling and listenable but that is one of Dury's more underrated qualities. It's just such a shame that very few had the opportunity to give it a listen. Luckily, it has since been given more recognition. It was even performed at the Opening Ceremonies of the 2012 Paralympic Games in London. I previously wondered what Dury, who passed away back twelve years earlier, would have made of this but I suspect he would have approved. An important statement about accepting disabled people for who they are got had an audience of thousands in a section of the proceedings appropriately named 'Empowerment'. That says it all.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

OMD: "Souvenir"

I was crushed when I decided not to include my thoughts on the shimmering loveliness of "Souvenir" the last time I blogged about "Spasticus Autisticus" so I am very pleased to be doing so this time round. Silverton seems to think it's a bad thing that the "futurist gag [has gone] lush life" but that's exactly what's so wonderful about it. If he thinks OMD were becoming too precious, I would have liked to have seen his reaction to the coming deluge of McCluskey and Humphreys tunes about Joan of Arc. In any case, "Souvenir" is absolutely brilliant and sign that they were on creative roll that would eventually result in one of the finest collections of singles in eighties pop. There are a lot of strong singles reviewed in this issue but "Souvenir" is the only one that gives "Spasticus" a serious challenge.

(Click here to read the original review)

Roxy Music: "Over You"

15 May 1980

"Stand aside. Here comes a perfectly executed pop record, reeking of class and presenting Roxy Music at their dazzling roxiest."

— Mrs Esmé Sprigg of Hounslow

What I previously said:

The Rox handed in their weakest album at this point but their creative nadir didn't have any effect on the public and, indeed, on critics. As one (possibly pseudonymous) Mrs Esmé Sprigg of Hounslow raved, "Stand aside. Here comes a perfectly executed pop record, reeking of class and presenting Roxy Music at their dazzling roxiest." If by that she means "by numbers and nowhere near "Virginia Plain" or any of their old stuff but probably the best they could do at the time though worryingly evident of a dullness they would never be able to shake" then, yes, I wholeheartedly agree.

This is the two hundredth entry on this blog! Yes, a milestone I am proud to have reached since I had the nagging suspicion that I had no hope of ever getting this far. I feared that I would abandon the project within a year or so; it's now three years and I'm still at it! It's nice to see that the subject of such a significant act and one that was once of importance to me. My Bowie years began to wane at the end of the nineties and Roxy Music seemed like the next logical step. My only regret was that I couldn't first have experienced them as a teenager just so I could have my mind blown by Brian Eno's audacious, ear-piercing VCS3 synth solo, the kind of moment that makes the young and impressionable.

Yet, I decided to try to approach this entry as fresh as possible. I have refrained from listening to any of Roxy Music's classic stuff of late so as to avoid any undue comparisons. This wasn't as tricky a task as it would have been a few years ago. While I still profess a great deal of admiration for the Rox, I've largely moved on from them and can judge their work in a much more critical light. Where I used to view their first four albums as an unbeatable quartet, I now consider all but third release Stranded to be a bit flawed. Each of their self-titled debut, Four Your Pleasure and Country Life start out brilliantly but they falter when flipped over. Siren is the one that fans of both early and latter Roxy tend to agree on but it's only with simpler items like "She Sells" and "Could It Happen to Me?" where it feels like they're up to something worthwhile; "Both Ends Burning" is a favourite of many but to these ears it's unlistenable. The more progessive they tried to be, the less it worked out for them. A curate's egg of an album, Siren would be the last time they even attempted to be challenging.

Roxy Music closed up shop in 1975 and they returned to a music scene that was very different from where they left it. Punk had come and gone, disco had peaked and there was a new generation of artists pushing the creative boundaries. Pop may not necessarily have needed them but fans were more willing than ever to embrace them. They had more hit singles after their hiatus than prior to it and two of their three number one albums came after their comeback.

Their return, however, was slow to get going with the public. "Trash" was the first single released from the Manifesto album and it peaked all the way down at the bottom of the top 40. Subsequent singles "Dance Away" and "Angel Eyes" turned the tide, giving them a pair of top 5 hits on the bounce. They swiftly returned a year later and the novelty of having them back still hadn't warn off. Yet, new album Flesh and Blood contained two cover versions, an early indication that Bryan Ferry was starting to blur the lines between the group he had as a day job and his sideline solo career. (The band had previously been all about originals while Ferry on his own relied heavily on the efforts of others) "In the Midnight Hour" and "Eight Miles High" are outstanding singles by Wilson Pickett and The Byrds respectively but Roxy Music's interpretations of them are both vile, in spite of doing their best to do something new with them. The rest of the album is all right but there's a sense that they came back too quickly with Ferry's well of new material rapidly drying up.

That said, he singles from Flesh and Blood are all very good, if not hitting the heights of "Virginia Plain" and "Mother of Pearl" then at least they moved gracefully into middle age with their dignity. I've previously written about how Ferry had become formulaic following Roxy's demise and it's around this point that he begins coming up with this formula. "Dance Away" had already set a precedent as a composition but he'd yet to get his bandmates on board. A year on and everything has been refined. There's a build up throughout the song as everything comes together; only Andy Mackay's oboe solo, which hints at some of Brian Eno's "treatments" from the group's early days, is daring enough to step outside of Ferry's vision. As 'Mrs. Esme Sprigg of Houslow' says, it then melds into one of Phil Manzanera's patented guitar licks which shifts them more towards the mid-seventies. Ferry's vocal resumes and we're right back in 1980: every Roxy Music period is accounted for without suggesting that they'd rather be in an earlier time. It then concludes over an extended instrumental passage which anticipates the very lengthy fade out on "More Than This" from two years later.

I have long been down on Roxy's final stage and it still isn't my favourite period but they could've done a lot worse than "Over You" (and, to be sure, they did). Sure, their best days were behind them but they still had a contribution to make. If only more bands finished up as strong as a depleted Roxy Music on fumes.

~~~~~

Also of some cop

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark: "Messages"

Mrs. Sprigg calls Wirral's finest 'OMITD' which isn't as catchy as 'OMD' but at least she's acknowledging prepositions and articles. Their earlier singles "Electricity" and "Red Flame/White Light" suggested there was promise and "Messages" is where they begin to show it. The Kraftwerk influence is in evidence, as is their debt to post-punk but their individual sound is emerging just as Roxy Music's was fading away. An excellent first hit single though it has since been overshadowed by more introspective numbers like "Enola Gay", "Souvenir" and all those bloody songs of their's about Joan of Arc. It does have something of the early Vince Clark-era Depeche Mode to it but the pop sound of 'OMITD' has its virtues just as "Just Can't Get Enough" has. The first of many classics to make up one of the stronger greatest hits collections of the decade.

Madonna: "Crazy for You"

22 May 1985

"After this she may be taken seriously and not just ogled at by moronic men (such as me)."

— Simon O'Brien

In a largely negative retrospective look at Blur's Parklife, critic Taylor Parkes mentions a quote from fellow Quietus writer Luke Turner that "you can't trust a band whose best songs are their ballads". Now, I disagree somewhat with the group he's talking about (I'd say it applies more to someone like Neil Young) but I have to say there's something to the overall point. I dig "The Universal" and "To the End" but I'd sooner listen to "There's No Other Way" or "Caramel". I'm glad The Beatles had room for the likes of "And I Love Her" and "Something" but I'd opt for "Eight Days a Week" or "I Am the Walrus" any day. Abba's mastery of romantic fallout in a glossy pop hit is much more effectively done in "Knowing Me, Knowing You" than in their supposed classic "The Winner Takes It All".

But what about the opposite, artists who are unable to do a passable romantic softy and stick to dancefloor favourites and/or rockin' anthems? (This may or may not apply to a group like New Order but at least they deserve props for not bothering with something that they either weren't capable of or not interested in doing) Should they be knocked for lacking a standout slurpsome tune?

So-called ballads have long been the refuge of those seeking acclaim and/or a potential hit single but they're not to be overdone and are best avoided if if they can't be pulled off well. I grew up in the early-nineties when all that dying breed of heavy metallers had left was a "More Than Words", a "Silent Lucidity" or a "To Be with You" just to stay afloat. They all stunk, as did power ballads, r & b smoochers and all that crap that soundtracked films at the time — but more on that later. And, yet, this stuff makes a pop star legit?

It's strange to imagine a time when Madonna wasn't taken seriously but it stands to reason that in the midst of her early run of buoyant pop hits that she'd be dismissed as a passing fad with inconsequential songs and a sexed-up image smacking of desperation. Frequently described as a most calculating songstress, it's likely that she had to feel her way around the machinations of stardom before she could begin to manipulate the industry. How to be taken seriously? Well, slow songs can do the trick - and what about a nice movie career on the side too! (But, again, more on that in a bit)

The only trouble was Madonna's voice was never able to pull off a good love song the way someone like Anita Baker did effortlessly. Simon O'Brien is impressed by her vocal chops on "Crazy for You" but I respectfully disagree. This is where her irritating habit of using that deep, almost guttural inflection begins ("...you feel it in my kiss"), a quirk which smacks of her being unable to hit a more appropriate note. Her limitations aren't as obvious on "Lucky Star" and it's something I think she even began to make a virtue out of as she really hit her stride: I'd argue that one aspect of "Cherish" that makes it so adorable is that she sounds so normal and relatable and it's easy to convince yourself that you're singing along with it just as well as she is. But the slower numbers really do expose what a mediocre singer she's always been.

The other problem here is that it all feels very generic and not from the singer's own life. Previous singles all tapped into that old disco trope of leading a depressingly ordinary life before becoming a star in the clubs at night (Madonna even expanded upon it by becoming the one disco urchin who then made something of herself by day) but "Crazy for You" is just another love song. She didn't meet this guy at The Fun House and they didn't light the place on fire with as they cut a rug; he's just some dude she's hung up on. Well, good for her but I'm not convinced that the material here matters to her.

Appearing in the eighties film Vision Quest (not a sci-fi flick, much to my surprise) starring a very mid-twenties Matthew Modine playing a high schooler and a supposedly older Linda Fiorentino in a very unflattering perm, "Crazy for You" probably does a good job of providing some pathos for the doomed lovers. (I say "probably" because I haven't actually seen it but I think the accompanying video gives away enough clues) It even got Madonna a role as a singer in a bar, perhaps enhancing her film ambitions. But it also had the effect of putting a record at the service of a film, a trend we'll see a lot more of going forward.

Madonna would quickly figure out the key to be taken seriously but she couldn't quite shake the desire to do more ill-considered love songs. "Crazy for You" is poor when held up against the likes of "Into the Groove" and "Borderline" but it's actually superior to future wheepies "Live to Tell", "Dear Jessie" and "This Used to Be My Playground". Ballads and films weren't going to do the trick and it's only right that such an unconventional pop star would have to take an unconventional route to legitimacy. Time to start thinking about being ambitious and clever, Madge.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Orchestral Manoeuveres in the Dark: "So in Love"

Long unique both for being an act not widely known for hailing from Liverpool (O'Brien doesn't seem aware of it as he praises both China Crisis and The Icicle Works due to local "bias" but is dismissive of this: is Wirral not Merseyside enough?) and being pilloried for becoming less pretentious (this is the group that had two singles in tribute to Joan of Arc), OMD were entering the mid-eighties having gone through some ups and downs but seemed to be weathering the changes in pop better than most. "So in Love" deserved better than its modest top thirty position but it could be that many agreed with O'Brien's take that they needed another "Enola Gay". On the other hand, it earned them their first American hit, setting them up for a breakthrough the following year. It's no "Souvenir" but a worthy single nonetheless.