Elvis Costello & The Attractions: "Man Out of Time"

5 August 1982

"Excellent, but so it everything Elvis does. What he needs is another "Oliver's Army" — a big hit that will become a standard — and this is not it."

— Tim De Lisle

Did The Beatles give everyone the wrong idea about creativity and success going hand in hand? The fact that they were able to parlay their wildly popular early hits into works of increasingly greater experimentation, introspection and sophistication all the while maintaining their commercial dominance is probably more astounding today since no one else has been able to replicate it. Even among the Fab Four's contemporaries there was little correlation between artistic achievement and the charts. The Beach Boys were starting to falter commercially just as Brian Wilson was delivering his masterpiece Pet Sounds, The Byrds found themselves releasing one better album after another with ever decreasing sales and The Kinks best album suffered the indignity of missing the charts completely. (Of course I'm cherry picking examples that suit me here but it only goes to show that there was never a rule to go by; not that anyone ever suggested there was a rule...is it possible to strawman yourself?)

The Beatles example may have been what virtually everyone aspired towards — even if they had denied at the time — but few could have expected even a fraction of the same for themselves. Elvis Costello, a passionate devotee of every genre of music from rag time to ye ye and something of a pop music scholar, would've known that better than most.

Tim De Lisle is concerned with Costello's lack of Top 40 action, urging readers to "Buy This Now!" all the while acknowledging that his self-composed singles hadn't gotten nearly enough punters to shell out the requist bob since "Oliver's Army". (I wonder if it rankled the man a touch that following his almost number one hit he only had two more placements on the Top 10, both of which were covers; on the other hand, maybe the old scamp musicologist took extra pride in getting his renditions of "I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down" and "Good Years for the Roses" into the upper echelons of the charts) Last week, I wrote about Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and how critics must have scratched their heads in wonder at the clever singer-songwriters they'd slather with praise that would never catch on beyond a loyal cult following. That's Elvis Costello, ramped up to someone people generally knew about and whose albums still sold pretty well but just didn't get the mass acceptance the press felt they deserved.

The centrepiece of one of Costello's three truly flawless albums, Imperial Bedroom (along with This Year's Model and Trust), "Man Out of Time" is its lengthiest track but it's a swift five and a half minutes nonetheless. Opening with some a chaotic (possibly drunken) rock-out from the L.P.'s early sessions, it glides smoothly into the song's piano/organ-led dream-like melody. (So effortless is the abrupt transition that you'd think it all been recorded en masse, rather than splicing together an early take of the song with the more stately recording that dominates the single) Tinkling away as if randomly at the keys, Steve Nieve's playing acts as a response to Costello's lyrics with some gentle mocking, adding some levity to what could very easily be an over-melodramatic tale. The nobleman/prominent politician depicted in the song is about to be found out, his entire life is about to crash down upon him — maybe he's going to get caught up in a sensational tabloid scandal or maybe a murder-suicide or maybe he's just a great big paranoid git who's built up guilt in his head and imagines that everything is about blow up: who the hell knows? Whether real or delusional, the pleas of "Will you still love / A man out of time?" are among the most poingiant Costello ever crafted, indicating that his own experiences or thoughts are hidden in the at least a part of this, his greatest song. (Significantly, he would divorce his first wife within two year's of the release of Imperial Bedroom, as chronicled on the flawed though somewhat misunderstood Goodbye Cruel World)

Applied to Costello as well is another meaning in the title. Clearly by 1982 he wasn't especially interested in contemporary pop — or even if he was, he certainly wasn't about to start making some of his own, or so everyone must have thought — and he was situating himself deliberately in another era. (At least as far back as the sixties but stretching even further to the days of Gershwin and Porter, two of his nibs' prime musical heroes) Drafting in Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick is evidence enough of that. Hence the lack of chart success that everyone felt he merited. But he'd soon be giving it all a rethink.

With his music heritage and catholic tastes, Elvis Costello would have wanted nothing more than to compose pop music standards. While others from Ella Fitzgerald to Bob Dylan have mined the Great American Songbook, he is the type who wishes he could have added a chapter of his own ("Everyday I Write the Book" indeed), even if he's British and wouldn't and shouldn't qualify. Much as I love his work from 1978 to 1986 (though not a whole of it lot since then), I can't say he ever composed a true classic. "Oliver's Army" is of course beloved in the UK but it's not especially notable elsewhere and its lyrics have become problematic of late. "Alison" is another firm favorite (though not so much by me: there's no reason to bother with boring Elvis) but it's popularity seems tied to the generation that first encountered it back in the late seventies. Indeed, Costello appears to be fading in the public consciousness. Those fussy melodies and arrangements are all well and good but they necessarily limited the number of people who could fully appreciate his genius. Even his best songs (to wit) suffer from this.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Scritti Politti: "Asylums in Jerusalem" / "Jacques Derrida"

Green Gartside's highly unprolific organization has been dealt with a lot in this space but I just can't pass up the chance to bask in their lush cleverness (there's that and I don't feel like writing about anything else in this fortnight's uninspired batch). A typically excellent double A side that nearly got them into the Top 40 which is no small feat when you consider the subject matter of the two songs. De Lisle avoids knocking them for being "too clever by half" possibly because his SOTF is the similarly swotty and persnickety Elvis Costello. The reggae-influenced "Asylums in Jerusalem" is the stronger of the two but the skiffle-esque "Jacques Derrida" isn't as heavy going as the title would suggest — and Green's rap near the end makes me wonder why he sought out the likes of Shabba Ranks and Mos Def when he was more than capable of the deed himself.

(Click here to see my original review)

Scritti Politti: "Faithless"

29 April 1982

"Words like "righteous, testify and faith" do not a soul record make but this is studded with more soul than 78% of the trans-Atlantic garbage on offer this week."

— Martin Fry

It didn't occur to me the first time 'round but it is shocking just how piss poor the bulk of the singles on offer this fortnight are. This outstanding Single of the Fortnight aside, there's aren't many winners present. And don't go away assuming that some of them are brilliant records that the public ignorantly passed on; the bulk of this sorry bunch is dreary faux-soul or tired post-punk. It's almost as if not everyone was meant to create sturdy pop.

Two that succeeded in doing so were ABC's Martin Fry and Scritti Politti's Green Gartside. As I already mentioned the last time "Faithless" came up, the two had their similarities in coming out of punk before eventually evolving into purveyors of slick eighties' sophisti-pop. It's a transition that isn't easily squared unless the petty critic takes the simplistic path of charging that they both "sold out".

If you happened to caught an early Scritti Politti gig in Camden or heard one of their D.I.Y. efforts like "Skank Bloc Bologna" on John Peel's Radio 1 show, then went several years without encountering them before coming across mid-eighties' hits like "Wood Beez" or "The Word Girl" then it be understandable to conclude that they had indeed "sold out". If, however, you'd been paying close attention to their progress then there's no excuse. Those scratchy indie records had always been leaden with literary and political references but it took longer for the music to catch up. The excellent compilation Early displays a gradual shift from skeletal post-punk towards the soul music that Green had grown up on.

The other thing is that the minimalism was still present even as the presentation and sound had shifted. Like "The "Sweetest Girl"" before it, "Faithless" is soulful and lush but so too is it as bare as anything he released half-a-decade earlier. The Blue Nile's Paul Buchanan would express surprise that the D.I.Y. punk ethos hadn't been identified in his group's work since chords were kept to a minimum, their playing was deceptively simplistic and they had little beyond a Linn drum machine in terms of backing. On "Faithless" there is a little more going on than on, say, "Tinseltown in the Rain" but when a vocodor and a trio of backing vocalists in place of a gospel choir are what you're relying upon for backing then 

Moving away from post-punk but not quite ready to embrace pop the way they would on 1985's Cupid & Psyche '85, this period of Scritti Politti's erratic lifespan has been somewhat forgotten. Their smattering of hits was still a ways off and Green would eventually return to the guitars following several largely successful experiments with hip hop which concluded at the end of the nineties. What is one to do, then, with a part of the group that few identify with?

Album Songs to Remember (as well as its companion singles "The "Sweetest Girl"", "Faithless" and the double A-side "Asylums in Jerusalem"/"Jacques Derrida" which were all decked out in gorgeous sleeves making them all look like luxury goods purchased Hong Kong airport's duty free lounge) deserves much better. Rather than being too much of a compromise between what came before and what was to come, it is the most fully realised account of Green's immense musical talents. His deconstructionist pop peaked during this time, with future attempts being much more loving and heartfelt and not in the spirit of his literary interests.

To the extent that Scritti Politti did sell out, the best they were capable of was a Top 20 album and three singles which all stalled outside the Fun 40 — hardly a case of Green selling his soul for pop stardom. More to the point, his creativity wasn't dulled in pursuit of the mainstream; it is only in a

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Shakin' Stevens: "Shirley"

With such a pitiful pile of singles to deal with, is it any wonder Fry overdoes the praise a little for the latest from Shakin' Stevens? Shakey "sounds like he enjoys making records and that sets him apart from 95% of the other acts on display today". Too right but does his obvious enjoyment translate into a top record? It's good fun like many of his nibs' big hits but there's not a whole lot to it. Clocking in at just over two minutes, it nevertheless feels a bit too long. That said, he hammers the point home much more annoyingly on 

Scritti Politti featuring Shabba Ranks: "She's a Woman"

20 March 1991

"No, our Green merely wants to know where you purchased your happenin' threads from. That's because he's a trendy old so and so and when it comes to his music he's exactly the same."

— Marc Andrews

It was towards the end of 1964 that The Beatles returned with a new brand new album and a stand-alone single. I say 'returned' but it wasn't as if they had gone anywhere. They had only been profession recording artists by that point but they had already put out three best-selling LP's and seven hit singles. As if out to prove that they could be even more absurdly prolific, they also released a four track EP of brand new material — albeit not necessarily of the highest quality in that particular case. They also had been touring at a near non-stop rate and also found the time to make their first motion picture, A Hard Day's Night. Yes, the Fab Four kept themselves busy back then.

But burnout was beginning to show. On the cover of fourth album, the cynically-titled Beatles for Sale, they appear to be exhausted, fed up and, in John Lennon's case at least, possibly putting on some weight. While their output had been gradually improving over the previous eighteen months, the material inside suggested that they were slipping a bit. Predecessor (and masterpiece) A Hard Day's Night had been made up of all originals but the well had dried up so much that they were back to recording a series of dismal and/or unnecessary cover versions (except for "Rock and Roll Music" which is a banger). Their own material on it has its moments (why "Eight Days a Week" wasn't released as a single in the UK is anyone's guess) but the likes of "I Don't Want to Spoil the Party" and "What You're Doing" are among the most forgettable numbers in their repertoire.

As the great Ian MacDonald has said, A Hard Day's Night's closing track, "I'll Be Back", is a sign of coming maturity. Beatles for Sale acknowledges that changes are in the air but it hints that The Beatles aren't quite sure how to get there. They had only just met Bob Dylan and were only beginning to explore London's cultural scene but Lennon and, particularly, McCartney had remained tied to the juvenile boy-meets-girl, boy-falls-for-girl, boy-pines-for-girl formula that had made them wealthy. But musically they were beginning to stretch out, something that was apparent on their Christmas 1964 single. Lennon wrote the bulk of the A-side "I Feel Fine", which opens with the arresting sound of peeling guitar feedback. It's also punchier than normal and sets the stage for the metallic drone of "Ticket to Ride" and the outrageous riff fest "Day Tripper", both of which would come out the following year. On the flip was Paul McCartney's "She's a Woman", a rocksteady-ish shuffle that does nothing but clang all over the place. It's far from the most brilliant thing he ever thought up but it was a significant departure for Macca and it indicates that there may have been a lot more to him than all that sweetness and light.

The trouble with covering The Beatles is that their material is so familiar that it's almost impossible to forget their originals. Green Gartside avoided that particular hurdle when he chose a B-side that didn't make any of their UK albums and wasn't on many of the major compilations. This meant that it wasn't overly familiar with fans and this may have freed him up to alter a song by the sainted Beatles.

Looking at photos of Green, it's amazing how little he has aged over the years. He is currently sixty-seven years old but he could easily pass for fifteen years younger. Do a very simple bit of mental arithmetic and you'll deduce that he was in his mid-thirties when Scritti Politti released "She's a Woman", yet in its accompanying video he looks like he could have been in the same year at school with Chesney Hawkes, the dashing young pop figure who was just starting to ride high with the single "The One and Only". Dressing youthfully typically makes veteran pop types seem even older than they are but not so with Green. (This is all the more surprising when you consider how unwell he had been for the better part of a decade; it would seem that convalescing back home in deepest, darkest Wales had done him good)

An accomplished songwriter (there aren't many pop stars who get royalty checks for having their compositions on Miles Davis albums), it is perhaps a surprise to see him taking on a Lennon-McCartney tune. That said, his long-held interest in deconstructionism never took him in the direction of cover versions previously. That said, there isn't much in the way of channeling Derrida in a simple song with some poor lyrics (rhyming 'presents' and 'peasant' is bad enough but the lines they're used in don't even make sense) and minimal chord changes. That said, Green was right to explore its Jamaican roots. That said...oh, stop it!

Updated and with some samples that you don't hear everywhere — no small feat back in '91 — Scritti Politti gave "She's a Woman" a fresh coat of paint that it deserved. The old homophobe Shabba Ranks contributes some fine toasting that also aids in fleshing out such a frankly underwritten piece. Marc Andrews goes a bit overboard in his review, confident that it's as strong as vintage Scrit, but it's by no means a "Sweetest Girl" or a "Faithless" or a "Wood Beez". Strong and as solid as anything on 1988's Provision but still a clear step down from their very best work. Nevertheless, there are many worse things than a Green Gartside record even if it's a cover of a throwaway number.

It seems though that Green had been on something of a cover version kick in the early nineties. He had already hooked up with Martyn Ware for a revival of the B.E.F. brand on a remake of "I Don't Know Why I Love You (But I Love You)" (whose B-side happened to be a cover of The Beatles' "In My Life" sung by Billy Preston; it's not one of the better Fabs covers) and he would go on to do his take on Gladys Knight & The Pips' "Take Me in Your Arms and Love Me". Like Lennon and McCartney themselves at the end of '64, was he going through a bout of writer's block? Though he didn't look it, he was feeling the pressure of the pop life. "I don't feel well at all", Green tells William Shaw in Smash Hits, at a time when most would be milking the life out of a precious hit single. "I think I've got bronchitis". Notably, it wouldn't be long before he went on another health-related sabbatical from music before re-emerging in 1999. It would be nice to have him back again, if only for just a short time.

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Also "Reviewed" This Fortnight

Morrissey: "Sing Your Life"

"Then again, please don't. Away and boil yer head, "Mozzer"": Andrews' thoughts on Morrissey's latest single in "full". I'm all for giving short shrift to racists with a victim complex but for the fact that there's nothing wrong with "Sing Your Life". 1991 was about where the rose was coming off the bloom since no one much cared for the Kill Uncle album but Morrissey was still pulling his weight as a singles act. Written with former Fairground Attraction guitarist Mark Nevin, it comes from a time when he could just dabble in light rockabilly rather than going full-on as he would a year later with the overrated Your Arsenal. Not particularly memorable and Moz is beginning to edge ever so close to self-parody but it's an engaging little toe-tapper and a whole lot better than anything else on offer this fortnight other than Scritti Politti.

ABC: "Tears Are Not Enough"

29 October 1981

"Passionate, intelligent and proud, with a defiant dance rating, ABC inspire optimism for the future of Brit-Funk."

— Dave Rimmer

It has been more than two and a half years since I first began blogging from two separate points of Smash Hits time. Back when I started this blog in the spring of 2018, I kicked things off with "Skin Deep" by The Passions which was about the point in which the term 'Single of the Fortnight' began to be used on a regular basis. I then went from there. It was only later that I decided to go back almost to the beginning, to the early part of 1979 which allowed me to fill in the blanks. Not every I wrote about had been specifically named 'SOTF' or 'best new single' or 'single of the week [sic.]' but I made a few educated guess along with the odd wild stab in the dark in order to piece the whole thing together.

Since that point I've been blogging three times every two weeks. As I approach each fortnightly period, I try to spot links between the trio of acts up on deck. So far there haven't been many — and even then they've been tenuous at best. It was just about two years ago in which I blogged about Duran Duran's "Skin Trade" (phenomenal song), The Cure's "Jumping Someone Else's Train" (good but they would go on to do much better), and — keep note of this one for later — Boy George's "Everything I Own" (pitiful though I tried to be as generous as possible). All were or remain major acts in British pop and I figured that was enough of a connection. Similarly, there was this past August in which I covered George Michael's "Praying for Time" (fantastic), The Human League's "Love Action" (even better) and INXS' "Suicide Blonde" (not their best but still strong). Again, a formidable threesome of giant chart acts but with little otherwise in common.

It is only now that I'm able to find a real link between artists. Back (BACK!) is George Michael from the last time I blogged, this time it's ABC's turn and next time we'll be looking at (also back (BACK!)) Boy George. They've all been written about a number of times in on this blog and, more importantly, they were all at the forefront of Britain's New Pop (aka the Second British Invasion) movement of the early eighties. What separates them is how well each of them navigated their way out of it.

Given that I'm looking at both the Georges (christian and surname respectively) in '91 and ABC a full decade earlier, I'm approaching them all at different points of their careers. The former leader of Wham! was at the end of his imperial period while the erstwhile Culture Club vocalist was vying for yet another comeback. ABC, however, were just getting started, the "latest in a long line of incredibly hip Sheffield bands" but one that no one could've predicted would go on to rule British pop for a short time — even if Dave Rimmer did correctly identify them as saviours of UK blue-eyed funk.

ABC are not typically thought of as a DIY group. After-all, they put a premium on production, they used horns and strings and Martin Fry owed a songwriting debt to the likes of George Gershwin and Cole Porter. These are not the kinds of people who get lumped alongside bands with guitars and surly, deadpan vocalists and a modest sense of melody. And, yet, they were as DIY as anyone. They were on a tiny indie label based in their hometown (one they stuck with for an unusual length of time, even if they also had the backing of a major at the same time) and they had yet to hook up with Trevor Horn.

I previously blogged that "Tears Are Not Enough" owed a great deal to Chic, a band who influenced as many British groups as Joy Division or The Sex Pistols, if not more so. Leaders Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers may have been jazz-trained studio cats but their addictive grooves were copied by guitar-bass duos up and down the country. (In Manchester, teenagers and future Smiths' Johnny Marr and Andy Rourke were aspiring to their some Chic-ism of their own) Fry admitted to Rimmer in the following issue of ver Hits that they were using the Smokey Robinson & The Miracles' classic "Tears of a Clown" as a model ("you've got to aim high") and this is exactly the type of song that appealed to the soul/funk crowd at the time: first class songwriting, musical precision, hooks aplenty and all of it is deceptively simple. Some DIY groups aspired to more than others. (By the way, did Fry have "When Smokey Sings" in mind at this early stage?)

"Tears Are Not Enough" (not to be confused with the song of the same name by the Canadian Band Aid/USA for Africa) would later be spruced up for ABC's remarkable debut album The Lexicon of Love. It is one of the LP's many highlights but its bitter, cynical message gets lost among the lush production and so much misidentified romanticism (Lexicon's ten tracks are all much darker than they initially appear but lumped together they somehow become a sweet selection from a box of Christmas chocolates). As a first single from the band once known as Vice Versa (as an aside, those people who insist on saying 'vica versa' are just the worst), it is more obviously sour. The funk beats and horns are a bit more in the background as Fry's irritable voice dominates. This makes for a welcome reminder of how he may have desired to sound like Smokey Robinson but he sure didn't sing like him. For sure he was capable smoother singing but he could rage well before his brave creative left turn/disaster Beauty Stab.

ABC were off to a strong start. "Tears Are Not Enough" gave them a Top 20 hit and they would soon be back (BACK!) with three more excellent singles that took them within inches of a number one. The Lexicon of Love would go on to be 1982's album of the year and it still finishes well in greatest albums of all time lists to this day. But the long term future wouldn't belong to them. George Michael would enjoy a lengthy period of massive success, first in Wham! and then later in his solo career. Boy George would be just about as big in Culture Club though his musical pursuits on his own would be more up and down. Nevertheless, he remained a tabloid favourite and his comebacks at least did well before inevitably petering out. ABC started the nineties off with a greatest hits album and a horrifically bad remix but they were non-factors for the rest of the decade. They would eventually be back (BACK!) but not until they had reverted to the group everyone always wanted them to be. 

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Scritti Politti: "The "Sweetest Girl""

They don't get much more "incredibly hip" than Scritti Politti, even if they hailed from Glasgow or Wales or New York or someplace other than Sheffield. (Sheffielder Martin Fry — from (huh!) ABC — would go on to give his stamp of approval to Scrit single "Faithless", just as compatriot Martyn Ware would do for Prefab Sprout; Sheffield approved!) If ABC were able to deftly hide their darker elements, then Green Gartside was right there with them. I like this period of their's in which the DIY of their old sound remained as they began adding elements from soul and dance music. Pop kids would've surely taken to "The "Sweetest Girl"" (those double quotation marks are giving me some pain) had it been done in the style of future hits "Wood Beez" and "The Word Girl" but that's the journey of pop. Not quite as strong as ABC this fortnight but, as Rimmer suggests, they weren't all that far off. Not quite the future of New Pop but aren't you glad we live in a world in which Scritti Politti have occasionally graced us with records? Or is it just me?

(Click here to see my original review)

Habit: "Get Back" / Scritti Politti featuring Roger Troutman: "Boom! There She Was"

2 November 1988

Welcome to yet another in an on-and-off series of pop groups reviewing the singles in Smash Hits and failing to agree on a favourite. We previously saw both The Communards, who did well in the task and picked a pair of absolute bangers, and Bros, who made the whole thing about themselves and picked perhaps the two most boring records on offer. For all the differences in quality between the two, there was a commendable effort on the part of both groups to go for records with some stylistic differences — and not just from each other but even from the groups themselves. Richard Coles and Jimmy Somerville didn't opt for hi-NRG synth-pop and Matt, Luke and Ken didn't choose perpetually cranky and entitled boy bands. This time things are somewhat different. The members of Brother Beyond end up dividing into two camps on the Single of the Fortnight but both records share more than a little in common with each — and, indeed, neither of them is a million miles away from what the 'Yond aspired towards. Whether they were able to achieve the "heights" of either a fellow up-and-coming pop group tipped for big things or an eighties' stalwart that was beginning to slow down is another matter altogether.

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"I'd really like to see them have a hit."

— Nathan

"Can I hear the B-side?"

— David

"I wish he wouldn't write lyrics like he's swallowed a whole dictionary though."

— Carl

"This is my sort of happening drum groove."

— Steve

It was November of 1988 and the UK was getting cooler after a fairly mild October. Snow was almost nowhere to be seen (though I did wake up one Saturday morning to a very brief flurry that had passed before I was able to get myself together enough to go out in it) but a dense, bone-chilling cold I had never experienced in back in Canada began to settle in. Our place had no central heating, hot water wasn't limitless and the space heater in the living room wasn't even adequate for drying our clothes. School, too, was freezing, with portable classrooms for both English and Science being especially frigid. It was at this time that PE class went from the cool enough indoor swimming pool to the frosted-over rugby pitch. A rugger scrum was not my idea of larks in gym class but at least the combined body heat of two dozen first years provided some warmth. My family took overnight weekend trips to both York (still one of my favourite cities in Britain) and Norwich (nothing to do though I would eventually "warm" to it) which were both somehow even colder than Essex. All this discomfort but at least it got me thinking about Christmas early — and I wasn't alone.

The race for the Christmas Number One was already getting going nearly two months early. This fortnight's new singles aren't exactly stacked and it wouldn't be until later in the month that some real contenders would emerge but there are signs of a preemptive push nonetheless. Annie Lennox and Al Green's "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" is here albeit without mention of it being from the (overrated) Christmas movie Scrooged ("Sounds a bit seasonal, y'know?" points out a perceptive 'Yond drummer Steve Alexander). So, too, are chart topping singers from earlier in the year Glenn Medeiros and Tiffany, both with brand new material. Salt-N-Pepa go the double A-side route with a fun version of "Twist and Shout" to put them in a better position chart-wise than its disappointing predecessor "Shake Your Thang (It's Your Thing)" (though, oddly, the 'Yond only discuss the single's flip side "Everybody Get Up", a tune I have no recollection of). And then there's the slushy bar-band power ballad below.

These would all be Christmas Number One longshots but at least one can imagine record label execs thinking otherwise. Elsewhere, we have the true also-rans. Groups like Habit and Perfect Day were highly regarded by the pop press at the time but neither had anything distinctive about them which did them no favours at this time of the year. On the other hand, Black and Scritti Politti were both sliding down the dumper and more of the same wasn't going to rescue them. 

That said, Green's "Boom! There She Was" is easily the best single going this fortnight. No, it isn't close to the Scritti of old but even when they were treading water they were still way ahead of the pack doing pop-soul. The hallmarks of their mid-eighties' switch to a much more radio-friendly sound are still there, even if they're a little less inspired than the likes of "Wood Beez" or "Absolute". Crafted by a Habit or a Perfect Day — or, indeed, a 'Yond — and "Boom!" would've been astonishing; done by Green and co. and it's a case of "oh, another brilliant, understated Scritti Politti record, so what else is new?"

And, yet, the 'Yond's keyboardist and main songwriter (when they weren't relying on Stock Aitken Waterman, that is) Carl Fysh longs for Green to write lyrics that aren't as if he "swallowed a whole dictionary". You know what else would be nice? Joy Division songs that aren't so damn depressing, Queen songs that aren't so over-the-top and Ramones songs that aren't such a bloody racket.  Green was — and probably still is — a master of complex wordplay and deconstructionism in his recordings while masking all of it in gooey arrangements and it's possible to love the songs without getting too far into the weeds of post-modern French philosophy. Fysh being a songwriter himself, it's curious that he would nevertheless point out Green's wordiness as a flaw. After all, as Brian Eno once said, only 10,000 people bought those early Scritti Politti EPs but everyone who did formed a band and began quoting Derrida. And despite some charitable things I've said before about Brother Beyond, it's a shame they wanted Green to descend to their level rather than them aspiring to rise to his.

If Green's not-so-hidden depths annoyed Fysh so much he should've followed bandmates Nathan Moore and David White on the Habit bandwagon where there would no intellectual pretenses. More on the dancier side of sophisti-pop, they emerged onto a crowded scene that already had the likes of Matt Bianco and The Blow Monkeys and they struggled to stand out. They had their champions (Tom Doyle gave their single "Lucy" an encouraging review earlier in the year and added that "rumour has it they have lots of better songs too..." Uh, no) but no amount of radio play, TV spots and Singles of the Fortnight could hide just how inessential they were. You might well have liked "Get Back" but no one needed to own it and kids weren't rushing to their VCRs to record them playing on Going Live (assuming they did).

Back to Scritti Politti, "Boom! There She Was" gave them a second chart flop on the bounce when they deserved at least a nominal Top 40 spot. Yet, there was no escaping that they weren't as good as they had been three or fours years earlier. Perhaps sensing that changes were in order, Green began drafting in guests for one off spots. Famously, Miles Davis appeared on the Top 20 hit "Oh Patti" and this time it's talk box master Roger Troutman who got the call. Nothing against the man but it's not a particularly noticeable performance with his robotic voice relegated to the background as if mocking Green's falsetto. Still, he got a "featuring" credit and this marks a turning point for Scritti Politti in which they went from being a group to a solo act with a revolving door of guests. This in turn wasn't ever remarked on because of the less-than-productive decade ahead for Green. He will reappear on this blog at least one more time (and with something that Carl Fysh would have doubtless approved of) but if you thought that three albums in the eighties was a slothsome workrate, just wait till you see how he fared in the decade that rediscovered earnestness: he would be missed.

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Also Released This Fortnight

Angry Anderson: "Suddenly"

"It's topical though", a once again helpful Steve Alexander notes, "because I saw Scott propose to Charlene the other day". First, good on the 'Yond's drummer for not pretending that he didn't watch Neighbours. Second, I don't remember this rotten song soundtracking the moment that Scott Robinson got down on one knee and popped the question to Charlene Mitchell, who was doubtless dressed in overalls at the time. Timely and them some because it would be more well-remembered for being the theme to their wedding later in the month. There are lots of sickly "ballads" that I can happily listen to but this is not one of them unless it's for nostalgic purposes. Glenn Medeiros never recorded anything so vile. Habit deserved better, didn't they?

Scritti Politti: "Wood Beez (Pray Like Aretha Franklin)"

1 March 1984

"Well, well. Long time no see."

— Dave Rimmer

It seems Scritti Politti had been on hiatus. Nowadays it's not uncommon for groups to go the better part of a decade between releases but the early eighties were a different time. We last encountered ver Scrits on this blog nearly a year ago when ABC's Martin Fry gushed over their single "Faithless". Now they're back from a lengthy layover of two whole years. (Dave Rimmer obviously isn't able to anticipate that leader Green Gartside would make a habit of over-long sabbaticals with this one being relatively short by comparison) But Scritti Politti weren't like most groups and never would be.

I once had a roommate who was a member of a choir. I never went to see them myself but apparently they were quite good. Good enough, in fact, that they occasionally performed  at weddings. Preparing for once such nuptial, she told me they were rehearsing "God Only Knows" which left me baffled. Imagine the words "I may not always love you" being sung to a pair of newlyweds: something feels a bit off there.

Yes, pop music obsessives can get awfully touchy when it comes to members of the public misinterpreting lyrics — and "God Only Knows" is far from the worst culprit in this respect (the lyrics generally betray the sentiments of the opening, a line which Brian Wilson initially objected to). R.E.M.'s "The One I Love" has been so misunderstood by Generation X couples that the band subsequently overcompensated by exaggerating the song's anti-romantic stance (rather than "savagely anti-love" or "really violent and awful" I'd argue that the idea of having a "simple prop to occupy my mind" is just a very lax attitude towards love). Bruce Springsteen's massive hit "Born in the U.S.A." was famously quoted by a campaigning Ronald Reagan who was unaware that the song is really about a Vietnam War vet who comes home and has been left neglected by the very country he served. Of course there are good reasons why people got them wrong. In the case of R.E.M., this was the first time anyone could make any sense of Michael Stipe's lyrics and the public must have figured they might as well take the simplest interpretation. As far as The Boss goes, fans got got up in the rousing chorus (are there actually any other words?) and he didn't clarify the song's true meaning until well after the fact. Plus, most people don't put a whole lot of thought into the music they listen to. (And this doesn't even consider the more relativist types like John Lennon who permit their songs any meaning the listener wishes it to have

"Wood Beez" isn't exactly a tune that has lit up wedding dances (at least not to my knowledge) but it did charm enough good folk to get into the top ten — and it's safe to say that the vast majority of punters did so because of Green's silky smooth vocals, the layers of hip hop beats and lush synth pop and a superb tune ("The only conditions", the singer says in a Smash Hits interview from later in March, "are that you make a record people like the sound of, and it's as simple as that" which neatly echoes what I've written above, something I totally did not plan) And I'm not trying to lay claim to some degree of expertise here: I've spent the bulk of the past week trying to figure out any hidden meaning; once I had that out of the way I had difficulty squaring this with Green's own observations. Had it not been for Wikipedia I probably wouldn't even worked out that there is anything else going on beyond love and trying to say a little prayer the way Aretha Franklin did.

For those of us who enjoy a deeper dive, what we have here is an  exploitation of the nonsense of pop. Green could have easily done so by taking shots at Bucks Fizz or Bardo so some other moronically successful group of the day but bravely chose to examine the Queen of Soul instead. Putting gospel-drenched passion into inane lyrics fascinated him — though I never did anything creative with it, much less anything that sparkles like this, I, too, went through my own similar period, kicked off by Meat Loaf's ability to put so much of himself into lyrics about nothing, which led to me "drolly" observing that he should have been singing in commercials. Thus, we have lines like "there's nothing I wouldn't do / including doing nothing" and "there's nothing I wouldn't do / to make you want for nothing" and "there's nothing I wouldn't take / not even intravenous". What does it all mean? There's nothing he wouldn't do. NOTHING. Not the most complex analysis, is it?

This could have degenerated into a comedy record or a meta commentary (something Green certainly wasn't above attempting) but for the fact that it's such a beautifully crafted pop record. Imagine Michael Jackson at his very best but with such an acute musical mind, taking the punk roots where he cut his teeth into the finest New York City studios with top-notch musicians and the cream of production boffins to create the finest pop of the age. You may look at it on the surface as a simple pop-soul love song or as a commentary on woeful lyricisms and still come away in awe. Scritti Politti weren't like most groups: they were so much better.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Bananarama: "Robert De Niro's Waiting..."

Rimmer denied the Narns a SOTF a year earlier with the magnificent "Cruel Summer" and has done so again with perhaps their finest moment. With a peak of powers Scritti Politti getting the nod, I wouldn't go so far as to say they got jobbed this time 'round but for sure Rimmer's critique ("cheery but unexciting", "...could do with a bit of spit and polish") seems a tad uncharitable. Again, it isn't absolutely necessary to know the song's true meaning in order to appreciate it: to the majority of listeners (myself included until just a few years ago) it's desolate and lonely, a testament to how Sara, Siobhan and Keren were able to sing in unison yet manage to sound so singular. To discover, then, that it's really about date rape only furthers the paranoia and tension. Stupendous. And even if you aren't convinced, at least you can enjoy one of pop's all-time classic mondegreens: no, I'm afraid the Taxi Driver guy isn't "talking to Tanya".

Scritti Politti: "Faithless"

29 April 1982

"The revamped, remodelled Scritti Politti deliver a slinky desert-island-shore, pineapple-sky soundtrack. The cream always rises to the top."
— Martin Fry

Pop stars— or DJ's or school boys — guesting in the Smash Hits singles review seat was something that produced mixed results over the years. It was a special treat that was there almost from the off — one of the first being a very entertaining, very bitchy rant from XTC's Andy Partridge which somehow managed to prove that he could bash a collection of 45's in print far more effectively than whenever he ripped into male chauvinism ("Down in the Cockpit" from English Settlement), global politics ("Here Comes President Kill Again" from Oranges & Lemons) or his ex-wife ("Your Dictionary" from Apple Venus Volume 1) — but one that would inevitably become bastardised by "critics" who had bad taste in music couldn't write. (On the other hand, they never went to the extreme of rival mag Number One who always seemed to have a guest pop star reviewer of dubious taste)

Stepping up this fortnight is ABC's Martin Fry, a man who was at the top of his game in the spring of 1982. Coming off their debut single — and SOTF — "Tears Are Not Enough" from the previous autumn, they'd recently scored their first Top Ten hit with "Poison Arrow" and their soon to be critically acclaimed album The Lexicon of Love was in the can and a few weeks away from hitting the shops. It's impossible to say if Hepworth and Ellen and co were prescient in choosing Fry to sift through a pile of new releases at this juncture (it's either that or he just happened to be available) but they couldn't have picked a better individual who had their pulse on the sound of '82.

There's a significance to Fry's anointing of Scritti Politti's "Faithless" as a SOTF. Like ABC, the Srcits came out of punk and were now heading in the direction of a slicker, more soulful sound. Green Gartside's band had long been darlings of post-punk indie scenesters in Britain and their move towards pop was an event that may have horrified their narrow but loyal fanbase but probably gave a boost to contemporaries. Trading in their rough DIY sound for synths and gospel may sound like the dictionary definition of selling out but in applying his songwriting talents and still sparse arrangements to modern pop, Gartside was upping the ante for Paul Weller, Kevin Rowland and, yes, Martin Fry.

"Faithless" itself is pretty damn good, if not quite as glorious as ABC's seminal records from the same time. Building off of their creative breakthrough, "The 'Sweetest Girl'", it name drops its predecessor, though to what end I'm still trying to figure out. Not that it matters since the vocoder gospel soul on display here is a huge leap forward. Obviously hindsight does me favours here but there's a sense that they're on to something that certainly has its own merits but isn't quite chart ready. I usually consider 'transitional' to be a dubious term for pop criticism (either an artist or group likely didn't know they were in transition at the time or they're someone like Miles Davis or David Bowie who was always transitioning or it tends to trivialise a work for being around in order to get us to the next work — or it's a combination of the three) but perhaps it applies here. Gartside was still signed to indie label Rough Trade at this point and he was yet to jettison his increasingly disgruntled bandmates and these elements were likely still pulling him towards his DIY roots. (In fact, I'm not so sure that he ever relinquished that spirit even as his sound altered)

A pop group's pop group. I have no idea if this title has been bestowed upon any other bands over the past fifty or sixty years — though the words Big Star and Jellyfish certainly spring to mind — but I would like to put forth my nomination. Scritti Politti were never quite critical favourites nor did they seem to inspire a cult devotion but they were admired by their peers and influenced the sound of the eighties. The fact that would inspire the names of both Wet Wet Wet and Milli Vanilli says all you need to know. Imperial leather indeed, Mr. Fry.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Bad Manners: "Got No Brains"

If "Faithless" catches Scritti Politti on the cusp of a commercial and creative apogee, the latest release has Buster Bloodvessel and his gruff Mad Banner cohorts visiting ver dumper for the first time, a place they'd be firmly residing in within the year. A shame since this is yet another perfectly likable chunk of low brow reggae pop straight from its source. 'Yet another', though, means that maybe the public had grown weary of their shtick by this point. As Fry notes, the hooks they pack into this betray a smartness that they wouldn't ever have admitted to. Too clever/stupid by half then.