Kim Wilde: "Love Blonde"

21 July 1983

"Now that summer's here, I suppose the charts are likely to be groaning under the weight of a load of sticky, syrupy slop designed to get everyone holding hands under the moonlight and being quite vile."

— Deborah Steels

"She's got that sen-su-a-li-DEE..."

When I was in my late twenties I went through a period of underemployment followed by not having a job at all. When not preoccupied with fretting over my bleak future, I was busy having stimulating conversations with friends, listening to lots of jazz and reading some superb books. (Appropriately, it was during this period that I discovered the works of Geoff Dyer, who describes the transition from studying at Oxford to life on the dole in South London: "The difference was the quality of study — which, of course, was far higher in Brixton") Not interested in heavy semiotics, I took to the more creative writings of French philosopher Roland Barthes: Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse (which we'll likely get to in two or three years from now) and Camera Lucida, his study of photography.

In Camera Lucida, Barthes puts forth the notion of the punctum, a detail in a picture, which may or may not be relevant to the image but which nevertheless touches a nerve in the viewer and is typically the very first thing they happen to notice. I flipped out. I scanned every photo available to me in search of a punctum and then, once that source had become tapped, I started trying to spot them in song. (I once wrote a not-at-all-pretentious piece about the "punctures" of Bill Evans' Sunday at the Village Vanguard in which far too much of my attention was on the cover photo, a sign that the 'audible punctum' was beyond me) Of course, music operates differently from pictures. We look at a photograph and take it all in at once; a record we have to experience as it progresses from beginning to end. Still, I became fascinated by trying to listen for moments would grab me, throw me off, hit a nerve.

Kim Wilde's pronunciation is this song's punctum. To anyone thinking that "Love Blonde" is a straightforward jazz-pop ditty about a gorgeous woman who has men wrapped around her little finger, listen to how she makes the word 'sensuality' sound so lacking in, well, sensuality. (I first misheard this number as being the story of a young, working class girl who aspires to sophistication and cocktail bars but only ends up tripping up and exposing her real self, which, as I type, kind of still feels like a legitimate take even if the Wildes had no intention of making this point) The femme fatale in the lyric is only seen to be that way. She's off limits to young men gawking at her and only comes alive when she's out of the public eye ("Situation: no-go zone / But she'll cut loose when she's alone") The attention is empowering and she gives no quarter. While the song was conceived as a joke, it needn't necessarily be taken lightly. Wilde winks audibly at the listener here and there but refuses to ham it up. And if you think she was singing about herself then the mangling of the last syllable of 'sensuality' should remove all doubt: she's just there to observe admiringly from a distance.

Considering the weightiness of her previous batch of singles, it's strange to think that people had Wilde down in the dumb blonde bimbo category. Prejudice towards her hair and image obviously played a part but so too was the implication that her dad and brother were doing much of the heavy lifting. Just reading back at the glowing reviews her two previous records received, it's easy to spot that Marty and Ricki Wilde being praised just as much. That may be right or wrong but at this point it appears to be a situation unique to her; other solo artists weren't having to share the acclaim among critics with their songwriters and/or producers. (This isn't to downplay the crucial role the two played, just to give Kim her due as one of her generation's premier vocalists, one who made those outstanding tunes and pristine productions into such fantastic singles)

"Love Blonde" is Kim Wilde's third Single of the Fortnight — and on the bounce to boot — making her the first act to hit for a trifecta. Having seen her chart fortunes dwindle with her remarkable trilogy of devastatingly bleak singles ("Cambodia" followed by previous SOTF'ers "View from a Bridge" and "Child Come Away"), it provided a welcome relief to fans and got her back into the Top 30. Not a big hit, no, and it would be a while before she began to really storm the charts again, but it's a single that adds luster to her already admirable discography. Having a record based in early rock 'n' roll and jazz (which I suspect may even be in on the joke: the likes of Weekend and Rip, Rig + Panic were then being heaped with acclaim, in no small part because of their use of jazz, a music that is to be taken seriously not like that synthy new wave rubbish) is a wonderful one-off for Wilde and a testament her underrated vocal range. She may not have had "sen-su-a-li-DEE" but she was way ahead of her peers in the game of crafting dazzling pop.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "Wonderland"

"So sloppily romantic and sentimental it's got to be tongue-in-cheek," observes Steels, perhaps assuming that cheeky old grump Andy Partridge had more than a little to do with it. And, for all I know, maybe he did. But "Wonderland" is a Colin Moulding composition. Sure, XTC's bassist was reserved and buttoned-up in the most classically English sense but his music has feeling to it that his much more prolific partner struggled with in the group's early years, only really getting it later on with beautifully expressive numbers such as "Chalkhills and Children" and "Wrapped in Grey". One of those XTC singles that they must have known had no hope but that's not a knock on it.

(Click here to see my original review)

C.O.D.: "In the Bottle"

12 May 1983

"The week's most modern dance sound."

— Neil Tennant

As has been discussed on here before, Neil Tennant was busy getting his musical aspirations in order while also toiling away the Hits. (I was going to say he was doing so in his space time but I wouldn't be terribly surprised if the two tasks crossed over quite a bit) Pop dominance wasn't the forefront of his mind as this early stage, however; what he and partner Chris Lowe envisioned was to cut a single in the States that would only be available on import in the shops in Britain. With the balance of power in the hands of the big record labels at the expense of the indies and the spread of HMV, Tower Records and the Virgin Megastores in the nineties, imported music became easier to get but it still retained a certain cachet, if only to get a shrink-wrapped compact disc with an IMPORT sticker emblazoned on it. Nevertheless, it's not quite the same as poking around in a dusty old shop and coming across a record that somehow worked its way over the Atlantic or ordering the latest 12" dance sensation from an obscure enthusiast label (or so I hear, having never done so myself).

Sigh, another Tennant review, another piece all about the Pet Shop Boys. Readers of this blog will doubtless be wondering if I have nothing else of note to say about eighties' dance music and they're not wrong. If anything, this project has only upped my appreciation of ver Pet Shops as a pair who managed to cram the best bits of disco, hip-hop and synth-pop into their sound while deftly avoiding the pitfalls of their some of their forefathers. In short, what got them out of the specialty import shops and into every Our Price, Boots, WH Smith's and Woolworth's. In terms of song structure, no one influenced them more than Bobby O; as far as sampled sound effects go, we may look no further than C.O.D. Indeed, the first fifty-or-so seconds of "In the Bottle" practically sound like an awkward instrumental megamix of songs from the first Pet Shops album Please as well as some of its accompanying B-sides.

Where they don't work so well is on "In the Bottle" itself. A cover of the Gil Scott-Heron number from his Winter in America album about rampant alcoholism in the black community, it trades in the lush R & B groove and soaring flute of the original in favour of some hard-edge breakbeats (as was the style of the time). Scott-Heron's relaxed, effortless vocal, too, is dropped with preference on an angry rap. Choices made: nuance loses out but I can definitely see opting for a bitter take on the themes contained in this song. 

It's in the production of lead C.O.D.'er Paul A. Rodriguez and boffin Man Parrish where it really comes apart. Aside from having a song about the ill-effects of boozing being lost on your average clubber and/or breakdancer, there's a pointlessness of putting together a song with such an important message only for much of it to be drowned out by this all-you-can-eat buffet of effects. It's as if Rodriguez and Parrish knew all about crafting music to be danced to but hadn't the faintest idea about making pop records for the simple pleasure of listening. 

Cue Tennant and Lowe. While the pair had no more charisma than the likes of Bobby O or John "Jellybean" Benitez (and less so than dance groups like Shalamar, The S.O.S. Band and, yes, even C.O.D.), they weren't as married to the dancefloor as many of the artists who were helping to pave the way for them. As a lonely boy — with no strength, with no joy — Tennant understood the angst-ridden impulse to consume music in solitude. One should be able dance to great pop but one shouldn't be obligated to do so. Only a select number of individuals in the early eighties seemed aware of this state. The struggling songwriting/production team of Stock Aitken Waterman proved up for the challenge and so did a young singer from Michigan who went by the mononym of Madonna. These three would prove to be the future of dance pop and we were all the better for it.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "Great Fire"

When it comes to great songs that somehow missed the charts, there isn't a greater pop injustice than that of "Great Fire". Phil Sutcliffe in Q once described it as "Strawberry Fields Forever meeting Penny Lane halfway" and he's correct. Tennant claims it's the first XTC single "in a long while" but a year or so isn't that long a hiatus, is it? Coming off the uneven and overrated English Settlement album, transitional release Mummer looks ahead to the Industrial Revolution pop-rock of The Big Express, the pastoral beauty of masterpiece Skylarking and even to the acid rock pomp of alter-ego The Dukes of Stratosphear, which is where "Great Fire" fits in. It even acts as something of a look back on Andy Partridge's roots as a Beatles and Beach Boys-obsessed youth. (Bassist Colin Moulding's contributions are a similar rewind albeit more in the direction of his love of progressive rock) Not on his high horse for once, Partridge takes to the subject of arson and uses it to delve into love and his neurotic imagination. Tennant is impressed and I suspect he actually prefers listening to it over "In the Bottle". (He's similarly taken with Wham!'s "Bad Boys" as well as a few others this fortnight: the pop will out) Either that or I'm projecting my own immense adoration of this extraordinary tune on to a songwriter I admire just as much. It's probably the latter if I'm being honest.

(Click here to see my original review)

China Crisis: "Scream Down at Me"

13 May 1982

"Probably too off-beat for the radio, but a great record. And it doesn't even feature Trevor Horn!"

— Dave Rimmer

Bands are seldom static. Members come and go for a whole variety of reasons. Yet, there's this unwritten, unspoken understanding that they should retain the essential elements of a group. There ought to be a lead singer who may or may not play an instrument at the same time as well as your standard guitarist-bassist-drummer dynamic with a keyboardist being an optional extra. This is the basis for a pop-rock group.

In the seventies, however, some bands ended up reduced in size, usually as a result of an authoritative leader who'd rather play a multitude of instruments themselves or hire session players in order to keep stress to a minimum. Groups such as the Bee Gees, Sparks, Steely Dan and Wings at all started off as quintets only to see membership dwindle and, crucially, not be replaced.

This trend would continue into the eighties with powerful duos typically ending up with the balance of power while their rhythm sections ended up getting pushed out of the way. The Associates presented themselves as a five-piece but it was the partnership of Billy McKenzie and Alan Rankine that called the shots and was in effect the band itself. The same thing happened to OMD. Simple Minds experienced a gradual cull over the course of the decade until it began to seem like Jim Kerr was the only one left. XTC (see below) quit touring only for drummer Terry Chambers to depart at which point they became a trio that spent their remaining twenty years relying on a revolving door of percussionists as well as a spell with a drum machine backing them.

China Crisis had been built very much on these lines. The partnership of Garry Daly and Eddie Lundon had been established for some time when, only just exiting their teens, they began putting out records. Steely Dan had been their biggest inspiration (the admiration must have been mutual since the late Walter Becker would play synths on their 1985 album Flaunt the Imperfection) which no doubt motivated them to spurn playing live. Daly and Lundon would soon relax their aversion to concerts which is where having a permanent drummer in one Dave Reilly would come in handy. 

Trevor Horn is one of those significant musical figures who was never as inescapable as we might now assume. He was part of Buggles whose megahit "Video Killed the Radio Star" is chiefly remembered for a chorus is easily its weakest link. He was also there at the tail end of Yes as the once formidable yet typically impenetrable progressive rockers were attempting to pull a Genesis by suddenly becoming an eighties' middle aged pop group. And he produced The Lexicon of Love, a masterclass of lush dance-pop which is frequently cited as one of the albums of the decade. Not such a bad resume all told.

More would come in the future (Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Seal, the last Belle & Sebastian album that anyone needs to bother with but why do I always forget about the Art of Noise? Oh because they were critically acclaimed but no fun whatsoever to listen to? Yeah, that tracks) but was he really one of those midas touch types? No, he wasn't. The guy worked with Dollar for god's sake. Plus, he had nothing to do with China Crisis and look what they accomplished even at this early stage and with a single that they have subsequently (and wrongly) disowned.

You know what else Horn had nothing to do with? Avalon by Roxy Music, that's what. The chugging guitar in "Scream Down at Me" sounds like it had been cribbed from deep cut "The Space Between" from Roxy's final album. The thing is, it wasn't out at this point and wouldn't be reviewed by Smash Hits until a fortnight later in the following issue. Could Daly and Lundon have been granted a sneak peak at the latest release from one of Britain's biggest acts? (Doubtful) Could the thirtysomething Bryan Ferry have had his finger on the pulse so acutely that he was aware of an obscure new wave act from just outside of Liverpool whose sound he just had to mimic? (This is even less likely) Or could this funk-driven sound have been in the air and it was affecting the famous and the obscure alike? (Yeah, that's it)

China Crisis would eventually become popular enough to rack up four Top 20 hits but they scarcely sound like the same band that put out early-eighties gems like "Scream Down at Me" and "African and White". Complaining to Chris Heath in ver Hits in the middle of '85 that everyone bashes them for being "wet" and/or "wimpy", they could've done worse in looking for inspiration had they delved into their back catalog for some tougher material. No, they were never balls out rockers but "Scream Down" is powerful and invigorating. This is what being a proper band with a drummer who isn't simply guesting will do.

Yet, the evidence suggests that they were perfectly happy being "wet and wimpy" while leaving this harder stuff to the dustbin. While "African and White" always had a place in their repertroire, "Scream Down at Me" has been effectively written out of their history. It was left off of their debut album Difficult Shapes & Passive Rhythms, Some People Think It's Fun to Entertain, released near the end of 1982, and didn't appear on China Crisis compilation until the two disc set Ultimate Crisis, a collection that the pair likely had little involvement in.

The synth-pop duo dynamic arguably began with bands being reduced to their core. It became so commonplace that it led to groups with only a passing use of synths got shoehorned into a subgenre they otherwise had little to do with. Were The Associates ever synth-pop? Were China Crisis? ("You can't be a synthesizer duo with only one synthesizer!" exclaimed Daly to Neil Tennant, who would later have a something to do with synths himself) But what they all shared were pairings that called the shots. Other members could be disposed of. It worked for Steely Dan, Sparks and Eurythmics. Pet Shop Boys were thoughtful enough not to bother having anyone else join them only to eventually be spurned. Too bad it didn't quite work for China Crisis since "Scream Down at Me" buries their future hit singles.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "No Thugs in Our House"

I'm going through another phase of listening to almost nothing but XTC at the moment so I might as well discuss this single, Rimmer's winner of the 'Silly Packaging of the Week Award'. In a move only the Swindon foursome could have pulled off, they had managed to nab defeat out of the jaws of victory and they were now paying the price for it, hence the silly packaging since why else was anyone going to buy the damn thing. They could have been bold and put out either "Yacht Dance" or "Jason and the Argonauts" as a third single from the English Settlement album but they went instead with "Respectable Street" "No Thugs in Our House". It must have seemed like a good idea to have a rockin' stormer that harked back to their brilliant Black Sea album but this wasn't what they were about anymore. Except for the fact that it does indeed go on a bit, as Dave Rimmer points out; Andy Partridge was becoming something of an expert at hammering the point home which wasn't one of his better qualities.

(Click here to see my original review)

XTC: "Towers of London"

16 October 1980

"Andy Partridge must be one the few rock songwriters who could get away with a single dedicated to Victorian city-building."

— Steve Taylor

What I previously said:

UK music critics at the time were crazy about Swindon's XTC — just as North American hacks were similarly gaga for them by the end of the eighties — as this second proto-SOTF in just six week indicates (perhaps it was also to make amends for spurning "Making Plans for Nigel" a year earlier). Spinning a yarn over London's growth and the poor, wretched individuals who built it, the song clangs of hammered iron, which hints at what they'd eventually do on their patchy '84 album The Big Express. Clearly XTC were on course to become a preeminent eighties band. What could possibly go wrong?

So, what exactly did go wrong?

Hints of troubles on the horizon were there as early as 1980. Fourth album Black Sea had only just been released to encouraging reviews. Ian Cranna considered it to be "magnificent", looked on in wonder at how they managed "to be so dazzlingly clever and thoroughly likeable at the same time" and concluded by proclaiming it to be a "compulsory purchase". And he's absolutely correct: if you catch me on the right day, it's my favourite XTC album (I have trouble choosing between it, Skylarking and Apple Venus). "Generals and Majors" had just returned them to the Top 40, albeit just barely. But cracks were already beginning to show.

The same issue of Smash Hits in which Cranna instructs all readers to immediately buy themselves a copy of Black Sea forthwith also includes a feature about XTC in the midst of a swank five year anniversary party for record label Virgin and the filming of a BBC2 special about the band. The fact that they were guests of honour at a such a do indicates the high hopes record company suits had for them. Yet the Swindon foursome are out of sorts in this caviar and champagne environment. Andy Partridge admits to still living in a small flat above in his hometown with his wife's connections allowing them to live rent free. The group was still in debt to Virgin and this is a situation that would remain for over a decade until they finally broke from the label. They were becoming a popular live attraction but their leader was already beginning to chafe at the stress of life on the road and this would come to a head a year and a half later when he permanently quit touring.

A lot would end up being squandered but what exactly were XTC going to lose by gradually alienating themselves from their record company and giving up the road? What didn't change was Partridge's muse which was never going to make a long-term impression on the masses. Black Sea is indeed as "commercial" as Cranna reckons but their leader's subject matter could steer towards the obscure at times. Closing track "Travels in Nihilon" is extraordinary but it would have baffled newcomers, "Paper and Iron (Notes and Coins)" is hectoring and "Towers of London" is about architects and the never-never navvies who built the centre of the British Empire.

Youngsters may not have been rushing to the high street Boots to pick up a copy but enough people bought "Towers of London" to give XTC their second Top 40 hit on the bounce, ending Partridge's dubious streak of chart failures (notably, from this point on, he would pen all four of their remaining hits as Colin Moulding ended up running dry). It wasn't a major success but it was a respectable performance. The misunderstood "Sgt. Rock (Is Going to Help Me)" took them back to the Top 20 so there was some momentum that they would promptly piss away. Nevertheless, "Towers of London" is a superlative single that builds into a singalong in spite of the lyrical content. They say that people like Marvin Gaye could sing the phone book but only Partridge could write a songbook based on the Farmer's Almanac. The commercial potential may have been limited but it was so worth having someone there to do so

A note on my quote from above. While I still agree with myself that "Towers of London" anticipates the Industrial Revolution rock of The Big Express, there is the difference of locale. Partridge putting his stamp on the British capital indicates that he still had an interest in worldly matters but this had vanished four years later when his perspective had narrowed all the way down to Swindon. Instead of mythologizing La-la-Londinium, he was happy to explore the Small Town he came from. And that's his call and good for him but, again, what exactly went wrong here?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Yellow Magic Orchestra: "Nice Age"

Definitely this fortnight's runner up for best single. Yellow Magic Orchestra had an uncanny ability to nick from all over the place and still make themselves sound like no one else. Yeah, as Steve Taylor says, there's some Bowie and Sparks in there but this is too playful for Dame David and the Maels would have had to hammer home some irony. Again, not especially commercial which is a shame considering how irresistibly catchy it is. All hail groups like XTC and the Yellow Magic Orchestra because they were so far away from the tediousness of The Cars.

XTC: "Generals and Majors"

4 September 1980

"Two singles for the price of one — and the freebie isn't a flexi-disc or musically anything less than high quality."

— Deanne Pearson

What I previously said:

Old Farters Parters may not have had great taste in records but he and his chums knew a little about pumping out ace stuff of their own. Seemingly as much attracted to this due to its value-for-money two record set as for its infectious synthesized whistling and all-around jauntiness, it's interesting to note just how much emphasis reviewers placed on B-sides and extra tracks in making their evaluations. It's commendable of them to do so but in the case of "Generals & Majors" they needn't have bothered as it fizzles with energy and is a perfect launch pad for their sublime album Black Sea — and a taster for what a live powerhouse they were supposed to be at the time.

It was the early part of 1979 and Swindon's XTC were struggling to break through in a big way. While their sound of "Roxy Music's Editions of You on diet of a cheap white powder" proved popular on the live scene and their first two albums from a year earlier sold well, they had yet to land on the singles chart, a trend that would continue to blight them for much of the next twenty years. Records like "This Is Pop" and "Statue of Liberty" are still top notch and they don't seem out of place alongside other new wave/post-punk 45's of the time but for whatever reason they failed to make an impact. Well schooled in Beatles-Beach Boys-Kinks recordings, Andy Partridge nevertheless lacked strong commercial pop instincts, especially around this time. What they need was for their less productive songwriter — a young man with a penchant for Uriah Heep and prog rock — to step up.

"Life Begins at the Hop" introduced the second phase of XTC, in which the wild organ bits of Barry Andrews were jettisoned in favour of the stellar fret work of Dave Gregory. It also launch Colin Moulding as a formidable songwriter to rival the much more prolific Partridge. Less ragged and stuttering than their earlier work, it has a classic, clean sound and told the tale of young kids spending time at this local joint where they could enjoy nuts and crisps and "co-co-co-cola on tap". The lyrics seem naive but the single got them on Top of the Pops for the first time and it delighted enough buyers to give them a modest chart entry of 54. Progress was being made. Confident, Moulding delivered another single that would also open their third album Drums & Wires. "Making Plans for Nigel" is still the number they are best remembered for in the UK as it tapped into Thatcherism and ludicrous Tory job placement schemes. It also happens to be utterly brilliant and it took them all the way into the Top 20. Not bad for a secondary, George Harrison-esque songwriter. 

For his part, Partridge was beginning to feel the heat. A third Moulding-composed single on the bounce ("Ten Feet Tall") came and went while his mostly excellent Drums & Wires contributions were destined to become deep cuts. He did pen the non-album single "Wait Till Your Boat Goes Down" but it quickly disappeared. Stressed but far from discouraged, Partridge offered up nine outstanding pieces for follow-up album Black Sea but Moulding once again got the ball rolling with "Generals and Majors", their breakthrough smash that never was.

XTC's fourth album was all about power. They now had a pair of ace guitarists who would were both adept at lead and rhythm parts and in Terry Chambers they had perhaps the hardest hitting drummer of his generation. Unsurprisingly, this resulted in a period in which they were receiving rave reviews for their concerts. North Americans started paying attention and this resulted in fans across the Atlantic thinking of them as a power pop group and they ever began to get lumped in with British groups who otherwise didn't want to have anything to do with them. (Elvis Costello had to keep their influence on his composition "White Knuckles" from the Trust album a secret from his bandmates or he "risked a rebellion") Critical praise, a growing reputation, some chart momentum: this ought to have been their chance.

I don't know if I'd go so far to say that "Generals and Majors" was a failure. Sure, it underperformed but this was already nothing new for them. It didn't help that they didn't perform the single on Top of the Pops and the promo that was made was naff and was described by Partridge as "the worst video ever made by man". All things considered, 32 isn't bad and it kick started a modest run of three Top 40 hits on the bounce, a feat they never came close to replicating. (Amazingly, it is the highest charting single of the twenty-one new releases reviewed this fortnight by Deanne Pearson; the crop being a collection of has-beens, and no-names)

Yet, it wasn't the hit it deserved to be. The public may have been turned off by the material and probably didn't understand the satire involved. Britain was still a couple years away from the Falklands War when there may have been more of an audience for making fun of hawks and blind patriotism. Quite why the outstanding tune and band performance didn't wow more people is a bigger mystery. While Pearson is delighted by extra tracks "Don't Lose Your Temper" (one of thebetter b-sides by a group that didn't typically excel in this particular area), "Smokeless Zone" and "The Somnambulist", it's a iron-clad rule that XTC never did themselves any favours with the punters when they tried stretching out a little. So much for value for money.

Partridge ended up penning the next three hit singles for his band (more on this in a few weeks) yet his insecurities proved difficult to shake. Record label Virgin considered the more photogenic Moulding to be their cash cow and they entered sessions for fifth album English Settlement (yet another one that would be tipped as their breakthrough) with both a hit maker and a challenging visionary behind their material. It was only when the reserved bassist put together the effects-heavy anti-hit "Fly on the Wall" that his star began to fade. And that would be XTC's unenviable path forward: breakthroughs that failed to materialise, expectations dashed, paltry sales and all from a band that was among the best in the world.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Leo Sayer: "Once in a While"

The "Old Sailor" doesn't impress Deanne Pearson much but he sounds in top form to these ears. 1980 may not have been a time for middle-of-the-road heartbroken balladeers to connect with music critics but things are a lot different forty years on. Sounding like a bit like a country singer, Leo is remarkably irony-free for a British vocalist but even that seems like a breath of fresh air considering the cynical pop world of the time being loaded with the likes of Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe and Paul Weller. But were the record buyers buying it? Were they 'eck! People didn't bother with XTC when they got more and more progressive while turning their backs on his nibs here because he was doing the same old thing. There's just no pleasing some people, is there?

UB40: "Rat in Mi Kitchen"

31 December 1986

"I say, just play the horrid beast this tune and when it comes dancing out, brain it with a rolling pin. Ker-blam! That'll teach it."

— Dave Rimmer

In an episode of the hilarious but kind of maligned American sitcom How I Met Your Mother, the characters Ted (Josh Radnor) and Barney (Neil Patrick Harris) have made a bet to see who can land the same girl first. Ted initially gets the upper hand and tells his friend all about her. "She plays bass in a reggae band," he enthuses. "Oh, does she know that one song 'mm-mm chaka, mm-mm chaka'?" Barney asks, "what's that song called? Oh right, it's called every reggae song". Though no genre is more identified with a particular sound, I think the idea that all reggae songs sound the same is a recent one — and much of it stems from an octet from Birmingham named after an unemployment benefit form.

There's this idea that UB40 started off well enough with a brilliant debut album and a respectable run of singles before lapsing into cover version hell. There's more than a little truth to this (all three of their UK number ones are covers and they never had a big hit in the US with an original) but it's not quite as simple as its portrayed. They spend much of the eighties relying on their own material and their first album of covers (1984's Labour of Love) is actually quite good. In truth, their only real howler at the time was their weedy version of "I Got You Babe" with Chrissie Hynde. Yes, "Red, Red Wine" set a bad precedent but we'd see scant evidence of it until the nineties rolled around when they began butchering Motown and soul classics. I think it's even possible that they were self-aware enough to know that their spike in sales came with a backlash. Previous album Baggariddim made a case for legitimacy by reworking older tracks with guest singers and toasters. Results were mixed but the successful yet terrible "I Got You Babe" overshadowed the rest of the set and did little to re-establish their reggae cred. UB40 returned in '86 with Rat in the Kitchen. Album's cover and title imply a return to their working class roots but the results fail to match the magnificent Signing Off from six years earlier. But it's fine and Colette Campbell's brief review in Smash Hits pretty well nails it.

Dave Rimmer isn't especially taken with the near-title track "Rat in Mi Kitchen" (he reckons it's "not bad" and considers it a "jaunty reggae number" and that amounts to the musical "analysis") and chooses to focus on its title. Indeed, Rims spends much of the singles page looking at song titles at the expense of content. Fair enough, I would imagine that he was getting bored with doing standard evals for the nineteenth time and decided to take a different tack this time round. (Also, he doesn't exactly have a loaded lineup of records in front of him, what with the post-Christmas lull and all, which also explains his desire to jazz up a poor selection by examining something other than the tunes themselves). And, yes, this is the Title of the Fortnight, albeit mainly due to there not being much else of note.

The song itself is lively enough and it's easy to imagine it being a firm favourite on the touring circuit. There's not much to say about it musically that Barney Stinson hasn't already said and they weren't in any hurry to push away from their established pop-reggae sound. (Significantly, two of their better later numbers, "Reckless" and a remix of the brilliant "One in Ten", were done in cahoots with Afrika Bambaataa and 808 State respectively and are also two of their least formulaic efforts; the two records also both reached number seventeen, fact fiends) Lyrically, it's dominated by sloganeering with hypotheticals ("when I catch you up, I'm gonna pull you up, I'm gonna check out inside your brain") that don't seem to be as menacing as they think. The group had been out of the political game for a while and it shows. It doesn't really work as a dig at Mrs Thatcher (assuming that's who this nutria is meant to be) but as generic advice for the listener it also seems confused. Of course, I initially thought it was all about poverty, having assumed that they were singing about how they were intending to "feast on it": so there's yet another misheard lyric on my part (just once could the correct line be superior to the one I thought up?).

Nevertheless, "Rat in Mi Kitchen" charmed enough of ver kids who were no doubt prompted into using up Christmas record tokens on it that it got into the Top 20 in the early part of 1987. Having just missed the charts with its pretty good predecessor "All I Want to Do", this was a bit of a coup for the band, who typically only enjoyed considerable hit parade success with each album's maiden single. It also ushers in a run of SOTF from '87 by prominent acts. We'll see an abundance of Rock & Roll Hall of Famers, major chart fixtures and critical darlings as the also rans begin to fade away. Though if you're a fan of That Petrol Emotion then prepare to be dead chuffed.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "The Meeting Place"

"An original title but a fairly yawnworthy one", Rimmer sniffs. I cover XTC a lot in this space because I am a fan. Not a rabid obsessive (having each album in one format apiece is plenty for me) but they are one of my favourite groups — and "The Meeting Place" is one of my favourite songs. One of five Colin Moulding contributions to their masterpiece Skylarking (Andy Partridge "only" got nine tracks on the album which prompted a great deal of sulking), it is a beautiful piece and a perfect example of its composer's ability to base a pop song around his innate modesty. For when you're both excited and a little apprehensive about meeting that special someone.

The Dukes of Stratosphear: "The Mole from the Ministry"

24 April 1985

"You say it's actually by XTC? Really?"

— Roland Orzbal

They're back! Yes, the fair gentlemen Roland Orzbal and Curt Smith have emerged from their lair on the outskirts of Bath to bestow upon us a brand new single — and all we had to do was wait a "paltry" four years. In that space of time, Mrs Thatcher won yet another election, English football sides got themselves banned from Europe and Australian telly stopped being rubbish — and you very well may have forgotten all about Tears for Fears. Here's to them being a chart "fixture" for the foreseeable future without any further down time!

Do you recall their earlier work, being that it's been such a long time, oh viewers? No? Well, they had a record called "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" which might as well have been called "Everybody Wants to Buy This Flippin' Great Single" because that's what everyone did — and who could blame them? It was joyous, instantly singalongable and felt important. Their next big hit was called "Shout" which was a little closer to the duff side as Roland and Curt never got round to telling us what they could do without and just ended up repeating the same chorus fourteen thousand times and even it managed to sell by the camperized van-load. The accompanying album Songs from the Big Chair, too, was bought by everyone on Earth and ver Fears were on top of the world. Then they figured it would be the perfect time to disappear.

But now they're back and their latest single, "Sowing the Seeds of Love", is sure to delight all that hear it and send them swiftly back up to the top of the charts. It harks back to the sixties (ie a time when people bought lots of flowery shirts, grew their hair and sat in fields listening to hoary old men playing sitars) but its, er, seeds go back to a job that the singer briefly had with this very same top pop mag. "The second summer of love?" Roland Orzbal asks Paul Margach. "I wasn't aware that the first one ever ended."

Back in the early part of 1985, the Hits was going through a bit of an overhaul. Neil Tennant was off to form a band of some sort (any idea how that worked out?) while other members of the staff were moving on to other pop mags or even getting out of the country. We were short staffed and, to make up for it, we asked a lot of famous people to come in to review the singles and some even said yes. The lead singer of Tears for Fears was one such kind pop star who agreed.

"I basically did it for a laugh," admits Roland Orzbal. "Curt couldn't be bothered so I was all alone." He wasn't terribly impressed by much of what he heard. "They kept teasing me with the promise of a Beatles record for me to review but they kept putting on lousy pop records. I began to suspect that they were just trying to keep me happy but, sure enough, "Ticket to Ride" was there in the pile".

A longtime fan of the Fab Four, Roland was keen to hear the ancient single - "if only to get the taste of the rest of this rubbish out of my mouth" — but he was unexpectedly more taken by another record. Lacking a proper sleeve, it looked as old as anything The Beatles ever did — and sounded like it too.

That release was called "The Mole from the Ministry" by a bunch of old codgers calling themselves The Dukes of Stratosphear which the singer might have confused for something done over twenty years earlier. But Roland knows his sixties pop and had never heard of them so he figured they were a new act. What he didn't realise was that they were an old bunch pretending to be a new group who, er, came from long ago. Or something. 

XTC were by then a trio of hoary old blokes from Swindon who had had some chart hits in the early eighties but who had subsequently stopped touring and soon slid down the dumper. They initially denied being The Dukes of Stratosphear and adopted the aliases Sir John Johns (hmmm, an odd name), The Red Curtain (doesn't sound made up to us!), Lord Cornelius Plum (again, somewhat curious) and E.I.E.I. Owen (oh stop it!) but it was one of pop's most poorly kept secrets — even if few at the time cared one way or another. One who did seem to give a toss was Roland ("I couldn't believe it was XTC").

Roland had always admired XTC but he was especially impressed with this new direction. "They were channelling the Beatles so well and it was funny," he remembers. "It's about a mole that is messing with people's lives but they figure it must be their own madness causing it. This mole sounds evil and scheming but I sort of wonder if he's just pretending to be manipulative just to further mess with people. He could be an incompetent bugger but people think he's pulling the strings."

The music also made the singer sit up and take notice. "It sounded just like "I Am the Walrus", it was brilliant," he enthuses. "The Beatles hadn't mattered to people in such a long time that you sometimes felt embarrassed talking them up but that seems to be changing now. Admitting that you were into the Beatles five or ten years ago was tantamount to throwing up your arms and telling the world that you thought all modern pop was crap."

He was so impressed that he began to think about doing his own homage to sixties acid rock and, during ver Fears' lengthy layover, that's exactly what he did and the result is their super new single "Sowing the Seeds of Love". But aren't the words a little too straightforward compared to the Dukes?

"Well, maybe but I tried to nestle current concerns into an old psychedelic piece. A lot of it is about Margaret Thatcher and what she's doing to Britain. But I like to think that there's some of the same paranoia in "The Mole from the Ministry" with some added hope for a more loving universe".

Roland is thankful to the Hits for introducing him to The Dukes of Stratosphear and for a inspiring his latest single. So would he care to review the singles again for the sake of his own creativity? "No, I think once was enough. Get someone like Dr. Robert from the Blow Monkeys. God knows he could do with some inspiration."

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Style Council: "Walls Come Tumbling Down"

The Style Council's latest single is, as usual, chart bound but there is some confusion as to one of the song's lyrics. "What's he going on about?" queried our tea boy. "Why's he singin' about enjoying a Cherry Coke as the walls come tumblin' down?" Hits staff were similarly puzzled so we reached out to Paul Weller for clarification. But we couldn't get hold of him. We also tried keyboardist "Merton" Mick Talbot and "backing" singer D.C. Lee but neither of them got back to us. Then, we contacted drummer Steve White who seemed dead chuffed to get be getting a call. "Oh that," he chuckled. "Paul and Mick are very health conscious and I try to be too but my one vice is I drink quite a bit of Cherry Coke. Paul put that in as a joke but he's since said that it's a commentary on how when the revolution comes there will be some who will be standing there on the sidelines, sipping Cherry Coke and watching it all happen". Does that include yourself? "It might do but they shouldn't forget that I'm the strongest member of the group. I'd be a lot more effective at pushing down some walls than Paul!" Well, that clears that up then.

Duran Duran: "The Wild Boys"

25 October 1984

"But please, boys, don't make a video."

— Morrissey

"I'd sooner fry an egg than make a video."
— Morrissey

Two Morrissey quotes, one from his stint in the singles review chair (labelled 'Morrissey does his bit' in very childish printing just below a picture of the man himself), another from a point that I am unable to source — though it certainly must have been stated prior to the release of the video for "Girlfriend in a Coma", the first time he did a promo that he seems to have been involved in. When he's not going all hard right (which is increasingly rare), Moz is good copy. Whether he's lambasting Band Aid ("One can have great concern for the people of Ethiopia, but it's another thing to inflict daily torture on the people of England"), being baffled by the appeal of Samantha Fox ("...I throw everything up in the air and say, 'the world is slightly derailed'.") or describing — not inaccurately — his fans ("people who wear heavy overcoats and stare at broken light bulbs"), there's always a good Morrissey quip. Sometimes funny, occasionally perceptive, often reprehensible, always negative.

This being Morrissey, I'm amazed that he didn't find some irrational excuse to despise Duran Duran's latest record. Four pretty boys (and Andy Taylor) coasting on their status as pinups would seem to be fodder for the curmudgeonly Mancunian's ire. But, then, they're just a bunch of pretty boys and aren't a threat to him. He isn't looking for musical authenticity (the man did a Twinkle cover for god's sake) and has a long-held admiration for fashionable, iconic faces. Plus, "The Wild Boys" as a song title alone must have appealed to him. He may have thumbed his nose at the likes of "Rio" and "Hungry Like the Wolf" (though I have no way of knowing either way) with their exoticism and carnality but not a song that taps into a Lord of the Flies homoeroticism (even they've got "sirens for a welcome"). I can't say that I agree with Moz's take on Simon Le Bon's performance ("Fine fiery vocals"? Not, "workmanlike singer struggling mightily to hit notes well past his limited range"?) but single is decent, not among their finest work but not a giant howler either. No one else rates "The Wild Boys" as their favourite Duran Duran song, do they?

Still, Morrissey did find the time to knock their mastery of the pop video, hoping against hope that they'd opt not to bother this time round. Hard cheese, Moz. Having previously stated that a "drunken goat" could have directed one of their videos, it's likely that their promos were spoiling Duran Duran for him. It would, thus, be interesting to see if his opinion would have altered had a naughty Smash Hits staff member managed to procure a copy of "The Wild Boys" vid and shown it to him. Gone are the yachts, replaced with a bad dream scenario of monsters coming out of swimming pools and attacking people or something. Though acclaimed by some at the time, this had to be their first promo which failed to capture the public's imagination. This meant little to Morrissey either way but I suspect he would have opted for Prefab Sprout (the rightful SOTF) or XTC or Lloyd Cole instead. For spite.

Not wanting to focus on the Duranies, I've decided to include a special analysis of every record Morrissey reviewed this fortnight.

Hazell Dean: "Back in My Arms"
Morrissey's 'Vilest Single Of The Fortnight' is trivialized a bit by describing the vocalist as a "creature" and imploring the "boys" to "stretch her on the rack". Value judgement as criticism. Song isn't much cop though.

Chaka Khan: "I Feel for You"
A "clever" record which probably means that his nibs liked it a lot more than he'd care to admit. Doesn't appreciate that it's composed by "romping travesty" Prince though my only complaint towards this otherwise brilliant single is that it's not called "I Feel 4 U": since when did the Purple Perv refrain from abbreviation?

Nick Heyward: "Warning Sign"
Moz gets this one exactly right with Nick wasting his many talents on lame American r & b. Stopped clocks, etc., etc.

The Redskins: "Keep on Keepin' On"
Does Morrissey actually like this one? They should be "canonized"? You wish them to be dead and then given their due? Harsh.

Miami Sound Machine: "Prisoner of Love"
A good line here about "stealthy eroticism which makes a life of religion madly attractive" but, sadly, inaccurate. Gloria Estefan has probably the least sexy voice in the history of pop and, if anything, it's closer to "forced eroticism". But, yeah, the song is balls.

Shriekback: "Mercy Dash (Ready for This)"
Perhaps a case of 'unspectacular record = bland review'. Could my tastes refrain from dovetailing with his?

Modern Romance: "Move On"
There are indeed worse human beings than Morrissey. But can anyone seriously think of one? (But, again, he's right)

Status Quo: "The Wanderer"
On a bitchiness roll, Moz gets to ver Quo, probably the group least likely to titillate Morrissey in any way and on any level. Right on the money.

Lionel Richie: "Penny Lover"
Not one of the high points of Lionel's eighties, granted, but Moz gets riled up far too much here, blaming the record on an "unholy amount of human misery". I suspect he'd say much the same about "Easy" and "All Night Long" and "Say You Say Me" which just means he's dead inside. But we all knew that already, right?

XTC: "This World Over"
See below.

Bucks Fizz: "Golden Days"
The low-hanging fruit so I won't castigate myself too much here for agreeing with Moz.

Tracey Ullman: "Helpless"
Or, as Moz calls it, "Hopeless". Hard to argue with him there.

The Psychedelic Furs: "Heartbeat"
American influence really irks this future resident of Los Angeles.

David Sylvian: "Pulling Punches"
Unable to enjoy depressing tunes, Morrissey isn't able to fathom the appeal of David Sylvian. Yeah, it sucks to have pop stars foisting their misery upon the public, doesn't it?

Ultravox: "Love's Great Adventure"
Not a favourite of Moz but I would've expected a great deal more irrational bile reserved for Midge Ure and his slicked back hair and bum fluff moustache and weedy tunes. Instead, he expects a revolution from the great pop chancer. Did he change his tune a year later following Band Aid and Live Aid, perchance?

Level 42: "The Chant Has Just Begun"
You have to be plenty drunk to enjoy a Level 42 record, you know. And there I was thinking you had to be a great big muso, much more interested in solos than pop songs. Thanks for clearing that up, Steven.

Cyndi Lauper: "All Through the Night"
Morrissey doesn't think Cyndi Lauper is much cop. Because of course he doesn't.

Lloyd Cole & The Commotions: "Rattlesnakes"
America has gotten to "Cousin Lloyd" too and that just won't do. I have nothing to base this on but I foresee the wheels coming off that friendship pretty sharpish. Just a hunch. Cousin Lloyd is probably better off.

Prefab Sprout: "When Love Breaks Down"
"A dirty great big fat hit"? Did Morrissey even listen to the bloody thing? Not "beautifully crafted poignant pop"? Not a "lush, bittersweet kitchen sink drama that I cannot stop playing"? I'd settle for "more spineless than an especially timid earthworm" if he hadn't cared for it.

Force MDs: "Forgive Me Girl"
A case can be made that 'bitter, spiteful Morrissey' is preferable to 'apathetic, bored Morrissey'. On the other hand, I'll take a 'reclusive, sitting on his millions, prone to cancelling concerts at the last minute Morrissey' any time over the 'Guardian-bashing, Tommy Robinson-supporting crotchety old git Morrissey' that we've sadly become all-too familiar with lately.

Scritti Politti: "Hypnotize"
Overlooking the negative things Green Gartside had to say about The Smiths (though, he still felt the need to bring it up), Moz acts as the bigger man and praises their latest record. Can't figure out if his quip about the singer having "finally mastered his Deanna Durbin impression" is a shot or not. Probably both.

Alphaville: "Forever Young"
Had Morrissey drowned the members of Alphaville at birth then he probably would have gone to jail and we would have been spared (a) some great records, (b) lots of mediocre records and (c) having to care about the claptrap that comes pissing out of the mouth of Steven Patrick Morrissey. An upside, with all due respect to Alphaville.

Siouxsie & The Banshees: The Thorn
An odd one. Morrissey likes the fact that this EP is good value for money but doesn't think much of the songs. Not particularly good value then, is it? Still, it's sort of nice that he didn't save all his vitriol for those he wishes dead and buried.

Of the twenty-four records he reviewed, sixteen he disliked or despised. (Correct that: sixteen he despised; the man doesn't do things by halves, as they say) Not being one to be content with just liking a song, he also managed to eek in some harsh words in five additional singles he actually liked, including the supposed 'Bestest Single Of The Fortnight'. That leaves us with three that he didn't feel the need to slag off in any way. Except for a suspiciously-worded review of one entrant that leads me to suspect he didn't listen to it at all and one that could be inferred as being underhand praise. Which leaves one bloody record that pleased this grumpy old crow. And, yet, I seem surprised. All it took was making a video or having a duff record or not approving of said act or not having been aborted at birth brought out his hate. You'd like for him to refrain but then he just wouldn't be Morrissey, would he?

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "This World Over"

The only record on offer that Morrissey has nothing but good things to say about. Now well into their residency in the dumper, Andy Partridge was under strain from Virgin Records to come up with something more commercial. Being as bullheaded as Morrissey, XTC's leader is having none of it and, instead, delivers a challenging and, in some places, unlistenable LP The Big Express. Happily, the singles are top notch and none better than "This World Over". Moz doesn't seem aware of how insanely erratic Swindon's finest could be which likely saved them from his scorn. Dealing with nuclear war fallout, the song seems just as relevant today with the imminent threat of climate change hanging over us all. Not that any of this matters to Morrissey: I'm sure in his mind the world has already ended ever since his critics began "silencing" him. You'd think he'd be better equipped at taking it, huh?

Haircut One Hundred: "Love Plus One"

7 January 1982

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

XTC: "Senses Working Overtime"

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