Bryan Ferry: "Slave to Love"

8 May 1985

"This single sounds very similar to "Avalon", but I suppose it's only natural to take up where you left off."

— Stephen "Tin Tin" Duffy

Stephen Duffy offers up a brief mea culpa to begin his review. Admitting that he doesn't have a record player (an emerging pop star in the mid-eighties without any sort of hi-fi system at home? A bit hard to believe but okay), the singer explains that he went into a recording studio, played the new singles on high volume and subsequently "got very depressed" but neglects to explain why. In the end what he managed to eek out are a "few notes in the style of a guest record reviewer for Smash Hits circa 1982". So, just who might our Steve be referring to? Certainly not Martin Fry's carefully thought out critiques from the 29 April edition — which, fact fiends, was the only guest review from the entire year (something of a stark contrast to '85 and its half-dozen-or-so from just the first half of the year alone). Now he did say "circa" so I guess I ought to do my due diligence and check on other one-off pop star appearances from the years bookending it and, oh, look what we have! Gary Kemp! He must be the one old "Tin Tin" is alluding to. Except the Spandau guitarist did a more-than commendable job. Maybe he's thinking of George Michael and Andrew Ridegly of Wham! who admittedly didn't seem to put a great deal of consideration into their analysis but much of their attempt is conversational with a music expert throwing out theories and his ne'er-do-well mate happily going along with him — not quite what Duffy seems to be thinking of.

But what does it matter anyway? Duffy's just being modest. His reviews are fine and certainly good enough by pop star standards. But one throwback to earlier days is he failed to pick a winner. Going by recent precedent, the record below should be our Single of the Fortnight (it is the one he saves the most praise for and it's the first one listed) but his admission that "Slave to Love" is the "only single in the pile I'll definitely play again" seals it for me (although the question must be asked: just what device will you be playing said record on, eh Duff?).

Bryan Ferry has managed to get away with an awful lot over the years. No, this isn't about his admiration for Nazi imagery nor his staunch defence of the fox hunt (two subjects that plenty of people have already taken him to task on) but how he has deftly managed to avoid the creative pitfalls of many of his contemporaries. Sacking Brian Eno at the height of Roxy Music's powers should have set the group back but it didn't. Going increasingly middle-of-the-road should have hindered their popularity but if anything they got bigger than ever. Putting his band on ice in the mid-seventies should have been impossible to recover from but they came back to enjoy some of their biggest hits. Increased attention to his up-and-down solo career minus key Roxy contributors Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay should have had left him sputtering but the success kept coming. His post-Country Life work within and without his band is patchy but none of it's an embarrassment.

By the mid-eighties Bryan Ferry seems to have boxed himself into a corner and what choice did he have but to "take up where [he] left off" as Duffy puts it. This is by no means a bad thing: what he did he did well and there was still enough of a market for this type of material to take recent solo album Boys and Girls to the top of the charts and put "Slave to Love" into the top ten. It probably also didn't hurt that British music had come to be defined by soul music-loving crooners playing in groups that relied as much on synths as they did "real" instruments. With the likes of Bowie and Macca and Elton all looking foolish with increasingly duff records, who could blame Ferry for wanting to stay the course?

Yet, works like "Slave to Love" expose a talented figure who was slacking and starting to parody himself. Those same slick vocal gestures he began perfecting around the time of Manifesto are present and correct, as are those vaguely wistful Manzanera-aping guitar licks which are so prevalent on Avalon. The song goes exactly as you would imagine. But for the artist credit, you'd swear this was the latest from what was left of Roxy Music. (In effect, Ferry was what was left of his old group and it's only right — if also pretty bloody cheeky — that he began releasing a series of joint Roxy-Ferry compilations beginning with the hugely popular Street Life: 20 Great Hits in 1986) But the very fact that it fits in so seamlessly with latter day Roxy material is not a point in its favour. It might have done Ferry some good to have had a lousy howler of an album at around this time. It might have allowed him to shake things up a bit, get some real collaborators in who weren't just intent to go along with his every whim and to grow creatively. Better to stumble and learn from the experience than to grow stale.

Not something I'll definitely play again; more the kind of thing I never need to hear again for the rest of my life. Because what would be the point? I'll just stick with early Roxy Music, thank you very much.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Power Station: "Get It On (Bang a Gong)"

Duffy's depression may well have been down to having to sit down and listen to some of his old bandmates. Having once been the vocalist of a pre-worldwide fame Duran Duran, it must have been hard to swallow hearing John Taylor's bass rip its way through a brave but misguided cover of the T-Rex classic "Get It On" by supergroup The Power Station. (Elsewhere, he dryly observes that the Duranie James Bond theme "A View to a Kill" is "interesting"; hopefully ver Hits held back the latest release from Arcadia because that would've just been cruel) I can only speculate. Nevertheless, he's impressed with what Robert Palmer and a pair of Taylors and Chic's Tony "outrageous drumming" Thompson have done with it and not just because it will "offend many Marc Bolan fans". I'm not quite so willing to rave over it even if it's nowhere near as bad as I'd been expecting. Palmer's perv-hunger vocal seems a little too on the nose, lacking the breathy subtlety of the original, and it could very well be that everyone present is far too in awe of the song to have some fun or do something different. They must have known they weren't going to come close to equalling the source so why bother even trying?

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.

Propaganda: "Duel"

11 April 1985

"ZTT describe them as "Abba in Hell" — therefore "Duel" must be Abba in Heaven."

— Peter Martin

This blog is now nearly two years old and is approaching its one hundredth entry and, probably as such, I've been thinking a lot lately about some of my favourites. Not the posts I've written, mind you (there's really only the one I'm still really happy about), but the songs themselves. Having The Human League's brilliant "Love Action (I Believe in Love)" come up so soon may have given me the false impression that I was in for nothing but top quality records but the relative detritus that followed only emphasizes what an extraordinary work it is — and one they never quite managed to top. The Associates' "Party Fears Two" ably merges lyrical melancholy with sprightly jangle-pop to irresistible levels while Elvis Costello's "Man Out of Time" captures his nibs at the top of his game. Terry Hall took a pretty good song that he had stakes in and added vulnerability and unease to create "Our Lips Are Sealed", which is probably the greatest Smash Hits Single of the Fortnight of all time. Some lofty company, then.

Joining this big four is Propaganda's "Duel", which is right at home with the upper tier of SOTF. Having previously appeared with "Dr. Mabuse", the German foursome seemed set to conjure up many more similarly unsettling cinematic epics. To return a year later, then, with the far more straightforward "Duel" may seem like either a lapse in quality, a drastic and premature rethink or an acknowledgement that they've already run out of ideas but it is in fact a stunning work. Tying together some funk bass with some simple yet effective synth chords, the tune is impossible dislike and one that will doubtless soon prove be very likely to remove from the listener's mind. Helping the earworm along is a terrific vocal from Claudia Brücken, which manages to convey a pained air while still keeping its distance. It's a lovely performance but a curious one: her voice isn't conventionally strong and may even get on the wick of some but to these ears she's putting everything into it and holding just enough back. Plus, I'm intrigued by the fact that something so catchy is also damn-near impossible to sing along with — even if that says at least as much about my limited vocal "range" as it does the song itself.

Peter Martin is as fond of this as "Dr. Mabuse" but he blushes from going too far with his praise. Though he exclaims that "Duel" is the "greatest song ever made", he then qualifies it by admitting that "I might change my mind tomorrow". He shouldn't have fretted so much and should have trusted his instincts. Of course it isn't the greatest song ever made but that's beside the point; pop music at its best encourages us to abandon all the great works we've heard before so that we may be caught up in the moment of nowness. Who cares about "Telstar" and "Virginia Plain" and "Heart of Glass" when we have "Duel" right now and it's fresh and alive? And why worry about tomorrow?

Taking the dramatics of its predecessor and tacking a real song onto it should have been the moment Propaganda began a ride on the Giddy Carousel of Pop but it was not to be, the single stalling just outside of the top twenty. It's impossible to say why such a sure-fire smash only managed to perform modestly but hopefully it got to others just as it got to Martin then and gets to me now. The best pop may not always sell like it should but there's always an audience out there looking for yet another greatest song ever.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Simple Minds: "Don't You (Forget About Me)"

Dear Mr. Margach,

We accept the fact that you're going to slag us off for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy for expecting us to apologise for it. You see us as you want to see us. In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is an earnest singer, an earnest guitarist, an earnest keyboardist, an earnest bass player and an earnest drummer. Does this answer your question?

Sincerely, 

The Deep-Fried Scots Breakfast Club

Memphis: "You Supply the Roses" / Art of Noise: "Moments in Love"

28 March 1985

"It makes me really happy — I wish the charts were full of songs like this."

— Rose McDowall

"It makes my eyeballs feel floaty."

— Jill Bryson

"It makes me feel like ice skating in the cold night air while listening to it on my Walkman."
— Rose McDowall

A Radio One DJ, a twelve-year-old with very strong opinions and a pair of Scots goth-bag ladies: it's been a while since an actual Smash Hits staffer had to sift through the singles, hasn't it? But no matter, they're not going the Number One route of only featuring mindless guests in the critics' chair, these are all people with something to say and not simply looking to advance their careers in such a modest fashion. It makes me think there's a pop music critic in all of us.

As one hit wonders go (a term, incidentally, that I despise; not only does the classification depend on the country — Madness being far from a one and doner in the UK despite being exactly that in the US and Canada — but it's snarky and mean-spirited and conveniently leaves out the fact that one solitary hit single is still far better than none) Strawberry Switchblade are fondly remembered. Their sole smash "Since Yesterday" has oak-aged which certainly helps but their image also left an imprint on people. No one looked like them. No one would ever have thought to look like them. Not conventionally beautiful but there's something about them. They make me feel like I'm back in junior high school and I have a crush on that weird girl which I'm determined not to share with anyone under any circumstances.

First up is Rose McDowall's pick of "You Supply the Roses" by fellow Scots Memphis. Formed by disillusioned members of Orange Juice James Kirk and Steven Daly, it is a bright and sunny bit of indie pop — with "twinges of country" as she points out — that the Blades are already familiar with. Either confusing it with an old country standard by the likes of George Jones (so baked it is in old school Nashville values, I can easily see a version of it popping up on Elvis Costello's Almost Blue) or already a firm favourite in Gorbals-area clubs, it isn't quite up to Jill Bryson's standards even though she too is pretty impressed. I like it but not as much as I'd like to like it. It makes me think of how I like turkey and I like cranberry sauce but I don't really care for them together.

Bryson opts for "Moments in Love" by Art of Noise. Impressionistic and warm, it's ruined by the lack of a tune to grab hold of. I would very much like to appreciate the charms of Anne Dudley, Trevor Horn and Paul Morely but it smacks of a work that is interesting rather than gripping. A fine enough listen but one which is forgettable as soon as its finished. (Did Bryson make her selection while it was still playing?) It makes me feel like I have something to say and I'm itching to say it but the words stubbornly refuse to come out.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed With Feeling This Fortnight

Cocteau Twins: Aikea-Guinea

Jill and Rose are feeling all sorts of things with this Cocteau Twins 12" EP. Here is an exchange of them trying to outdo one another:

J: It's all very atmospheric — in fact, it makes my skin ripple.

R: Well, it makes my organs wobble.

J: And it makes my eyeballs flip.

R: And it made my record player jump.

(The seeds of their eventual falling out, perhaps)

Some typically gorgeous industrial loveliness from yet more Scots. It makes me feel like a tulip growing out of a crack in the concrete outside of a smoke-spewing factory.

Nik Kershaw: "Wide Boy"

14 March 1985

"What he's trying to say is that his critics think he's stupid but, because he's got so much success, it doesn't bother him."

— Marshall O'Leary

Paul is a Chickadee reader (aged 7) who lives in the neighbourhood of Beddington in the north part of Calgary. He wavers between Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" and New Edition's "Mr. Telephone Man" as his favourite song of all time. He doesn't have much to say about pop music as you can see below.

I'm sorry, I don't know who he is. Why doesn't he spell his name with a 'c'? It looks dumb spelled 'n-i-k'.

I asked some people around me what they thought of this song. Here's what they said:

My sister Julie liked it but she stopped caring when I told her who it was. She only likes Culture Club. Did you know that she was Boy George for Halloween? And that she was Boy George in her class air band show? Everybody looked at Julie because she was Boy George. No one knew who Sting was and no one knew who Phil Collins was and all those other people in Band Aid. I was proud of her.

Mummy only likes Paul Young now. She asked me to turn this down right away.

Daddy said "no thanks". He was watching a hockey game and didn't want to be disturbed.

My friend Kevin said it's not as good as Howard Jones who he likes a lot but I don't like Howard Jones because of his stupid hair and dumb songs. Maybe I should like Nik Kershaw if Kevin dislikes him.

Craig down the street never gave me back the Archie comic he borrowed so I didn't want to give him a copy. I asked him to come over to hear it but he wants to play street hockey at the Green instead. I want to play too so I should finish this soon.

Ethan at school was too busy sucking on cigarette butts from a flower bed in front of Highwood and didn't want to hear it. I think he hates music and he will probably be a lawyer or a doctor or something when he grows up.

Karim kind of likes it. He wasn't humming it at the bus stop or anything but he got his daddy to buy him the Nik Kershaw tape. Karim said he'd lend it to me and I gave him back his Return of the Jedi book so he won't mind lending it to me.

Paul B likes it a lot but then he bit me on the arm when I asked him why he likes it. Why am I still friends with him?

Do you want to know what I think? Well, it's okay. I think that Marshall is wrong about the meaning of "Wide Boy". I think it's about fat guys thinking they're really important. Grandpa Roy is fat and he thinks he's important. He sells houses. He doesn't care if people think he's fat. People laugh at fat guys but I think they don't care and they feel more important for being fat. I wonder if Nik Kershaw doesn't like fat guys. Ethan said that he doesn't like fat people but I can't say that because Grandpa Roy is fat and so is Louise who is friends with Mummy and Daddy. I think fat people are fine. And the song is nice but maybe he should be nicer to fat people. (By the way, hello to: Michael B, Michelle and Angie, Wesant and Mike from swimming lessons)

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Billy Bragg: Between the Wars

Daddy likes this kind of thing. He says that folk music tells a story but I think that Twisted Sister tells a story in they're song but he says they aren't folk so I don't know what he means. Marshall doesn't like Billy Bragg's voice but I think it's neat. People in England talk like him but they don't usually sing like him. He says he was a minor and a dockor and a railwayman between the wars. I didn't know that people have more than one job when they grow up. Daddy is just a teacher, he doesn't have other jobs. I don't know when these wars were. Grandpa Bill was in the Second World War. He told me that Hitler heard his foot steps and that's how the war ended.

The Jesus & Mary Chain: "Never Understand"

28 February 1985

"Its simplicity and individuality amid countless, cowardly records in the review pile striving to sound like each other is nothing short of exhilarating. Good vibrations."

— Andy Kershaw

The class of '85 is so far a trip through the British indie scene (although that will soon change). If The Associates weren't quite the same as the others, they were at least adjacent to what was going on in the periphery and their journey down the dumper in the aftermath of Alan Rankine's departure ensured they were down to a loyal but diminished following of people with possible interests in The Cure, The Smiths, Bauhaus, Depeche Mode and Siousxie & The Banshees — Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet fans probably weren't listening anymore. Frank Chickens were as much performance artists as musicians and they, too, had a small following that was never going to grow enough to get them near the charts. Julian Cope had, like The Associates, enjoyed hit singles but his muse had become far too out there for him to get anything more than the odd token top forty appearance.

With all due respect to these three acts, none were of much importance to UK indie. (I type this feeling like if I had any readers they'd complain that I'm ignoring Cope's influence but (a) I'm not overly convinced he had much of an effect and (b) he was way too much of a one-off to be taken as a capable alternative figure; his erratic talent could have meant millions of fans or a smattering of loyalists in Monmouthshire but either scenario doesn't make him any more indie than pop - in the end he's just Julian Cope, an alternative to absolutely everyone else) Few major figures materialise; just as it's rare to come across a pop act that bursts forth to sustained success and a positive effect on other groups, indie acts that really matter are difficult to come by.

The Jesus & Mary Chain don't seem quite as radical as they must have been back in the mid-eighties — and much of that is down to their massive influence over British and American indie. While hard rock, metal and punk had all been accompanied by vocalists screaming, shouting and sneering, few had ever heard (or not heard as the case may be) someone like Jim Reid casually mumbling and whispering his way through a track such as "Never Understand", as if demanding that his audience really listen to him through noise. Fans unwilling or unable to do so were still able to enjoy William Reid's crunching, slithering guitar parts thereby bringing together indie types with interests in angsty lyrics and chaotic feedback into following one act.

For all of that, a figure as musically knowledgeable as Andy Kershaw (of The Old Grey Whistle Test) is able to see through the racket and detect a "breezy melody curiously reminiscent of The Beach Boys". Those of us who are as well versed in Pet Sounds as they are in Psychocandy (if not more so) can see this too but I imagine the average Chainer wouldn't have be aware of it had William Reid dressed up like Mike Love and Bobby Gillespie gone a little less down the dirt bag path to model himself after Dennis Wilson. But the influence doesn't stop "Never Understand" from being as unique as virtually everything else on offer is typical.

But from the vantage point of nearly thirty-five years, it's a record that sounds like much of what would come later. Only much better. Not everyone can whisper over screaming guitar feedback and make it work no matter how hard they might have tried.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

"Starvation" / "Tam tam pour l'Ethiopie"

A self-titled split single released as a reggae/African music answer to "Do They Know It's Christmas?", "Starvation" / "Tam tam pour l'Ethiopie" are good enough songs not to even require a good cause which makes its low chart placing even more shameful. The UB40/Madness led "Starvation" is the more commercial with a great singalong chorus but "Tam tam pour l'Ethiopie" gets better with repeated hearings. The white guilt of Band Aid has never bothered me as much as many but something done from the perspective of the millions of poor victims of the Ethiopian famine is much more potent than cries of "thank god it's them instead of you". Just give it a try.

Julian Cope: "Sunspots"

14 February 1985

"This is a stern, strident and invigorating march through some lunatic wasteland where tinny guitars slash, people whistle out of tune and someone pipes up on a jaunty recorder during the most compulsive sway-along chorus since long before Foreigner."

— Tom Hibbert

Nothing beats a reference to Foreigner to make you well disposed to a rival record. "Well, this really isn't my sort of thing but I don't hate it and it's not bloody Foreigner so it's okay by me!" "I'm not especially into much pop music beyond the mid-nineties but at least I've existed in a musical landscape for over a quarter-of-a-century without Foreigner." "The latest Maroon 5 record? We'll it's balls but not compared to..." Okay, I over-reached myself.

Oh well, is it too much of a backhanded compliment to say that I don't have a whole lot of interest in listening to the bulk of Cope's work but I'm still happy to see him around? Someone's gotta put out "lunatic wasteland" records and he's plenty lunatic for it. Like heroes Syd Barrett, Roky Eriksson and Skip Spence, there must be some sort of genius lurking in there and we can but hope that it will peak through in time. These casualties of sixties drug culture were always given the benefit of the doubt but seldom did their talents emerge. On the other hand, Cope is alive and well and still active and his main skill might be in being Julian Cope. But does he craft excellent pop records?

We're a few years out now from Cope's commercial golden year when his act The Teardrop Explodes exploded on the scene and the hits — both of them — came forth and he's clearly not especially interested in replicating their former success. (Either that or going round wearing a tortoise shell happened to be his best idea for how to market himself and give the punters what they want) Still, his solo career has been much more accessible than one might think and "Sunspots" is a prime example. Well constructed and with hooks and plenty of that swaying that Tom Hibbert is evidently so fond of, it's a fine listen but one that fails to invite replays and doesn't manage to get stuck in the mind. It's easy to picture young people listening to John Peel or Janice Long and really digging Cope's latest record — not even necessarily this one — but forgetting all about it once the latest Smiths, Cure or New Order single got played immediately after it.

Being both highly individual and prolific, Cope was slowly building up a loyal following so it's not as if everyone felt this way about "Sunspots", even if they couldn't get it any higher than number seventy-six. Less produced than Teardrop Explodes material, one might feel captivated by the singer's commanding vocal and how well the tinny guitars, out-of-tune whistling and jaunty recorder all mesh. I'm not convinced he won a lot of new fans but I can't imagine many Cope cultists were beginning to push away either. Pretty bloomin' great if you like this sort of thing and perfectly acceptable if you're a neutral.

Julian Cope has always been a figure to admire: he has a unique voice and presence, he's always done things his way and he doesn't care what you or I think of him. All that's great but it's worth pointing out that we may feel just as apathetic towards his work as he does towards our opinions of him. Plus, too much admiration can overwhelm our perceptions of an artist: I hold Prince as an individual in high esteem and sometimes these feelings manipulate myself into believing that I also like his music. Same goes for Cope: I don't mind when I hear his stuff but I never feel that I need to. And he's way better than Foreigner.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Nirvana Devils: "Some Foreign Shore"

His nibs oversells things a bit here by calling it the greatest German record of all time. No, it's nowhere near Kraftwerk's "Trans-Europe Express" or Can's "Spoon" or even Culture Beat's "Mr. Vain" — though Hibs wasn't to be aware of it for another eight years, assuming he ever was — but that doesn't mean it isn't worth seeking out. Stellar, speed-infused garage rock that threatens to turn into a psychedelic Nuggets masterpiece, it maintains a furious pace and, again, I can certainly understand why our madcap reviewer is so captivated. Like Cope's SOTF, however, it's like that Milan Kundera novel you read that you're pretty sure you liked but which didn't stay with you in any way. Enjoy music in the moment then move on.

Frank Chickens: "We Are Ninja (Not Geisha)"

31 January 1985

"Utterly silly."

— Chris Heath

As Smash Hits continued to plow through the eighties, it gradually began to become more and more similar to the magazine that captured my imagination at the end of the decade. Making a gradual transition from black and white to glossy at around this time, the reviews were still very much a throwback, with only a trace amount of colour separating it from the serious inkies. Beyond aesthetics, the writing staff was showing some turnover. 1985 would be the year that Neil Tennant would depart to have a go at making his own pop records while editor Mark Ellen was nearing the end of his time as well (he would help launch Q the following year) and Dave Rimmer, preoccupied with work on his outstanding account of eighties pop Like Punk Never Happened and a move to Germany, began working on a freelance basis. It was, thus, time for some new blood: writers who grew up as fans of the magazine who would then be on staff at its zenith.

Chris Heath would go on to be the first Smash Hits writer to really make an impression on me. He seemed to love music of all kinds, didn't blush from declaring certain records to be utter crap and never gave off noxious vibes that he was a failed musician determined to use his platform to rip into anything beneath him. The very first time I read one of his reviews he tore into my favourite record of the time (something we're sure to get to in a few years) but I wasn't crushed by it. He had his reasons and they were in good faith and for the first time in my life I discovered you could read a negative review and not wish to tear up said top pop mag into a million tiny little pieces. (It was a lesson that I didn't end up paying attention to at the time but it's back with me now!) Heath was also the first Hits scribe to write a book that I would go on to read: I've gone through several since and I've enjoyed them all but none have come close to his.

This is just the second entry from the class of '85 and I'm still reeling from the sorry state of the Singles of the Fortnight from the previous year. I had always held 1984 in esteem growing up since this was when I started to become aware of current pop music but now I can only wonder if all those criticisms of the decade that I used to scoff at aren't somewhat true. And it wasn't simply a case of some poor choices for SOTF either: in many instances reviewers were right for choosing a so-so record over some pretty blase competition. As a boy 1984 seemed exciting: everyone dressed up, looked weird and didn't care what you thought. A pity the music wasn't up to much and that even extends to the highest of levels.

So, a new year and a fresh start, right? Well, sort of. "We Are Ninja (Not Geisha)" is a stupidly great record that beats virtually everything from the previous year. The problem? It comes from 1984 as well. Already reviewed eleven months earlier by an equally enthused Rimmer, it was only denied SOTF status by a peak-of-powers Scritti Politti. Unfortunately, a bizarre Japanese single on a tiny record label that wasn't going to be picked up by anyone other than John Peel didn't stand much of a chance in a year of crap pop and didn't do much better upon reissue here. Still, it seems to have delighted everyone who spun it, reviewed it and, I assume, decided to roll the dice with a purchase.

What did/do we all see in it? Well, it is indeed utterly silly and that's precisely what makes it so wonderful. The duo of Kazuko Hokhi and Kazumi Taguchi, along with producers Steve Beresford and David Toop, seem to have randomly thrown together disparate elements such as traditional Japanese music, avant-garde noise and synth-pop with some rapping and singing and chanting over top and the results are pure magic. Catchy as all hell and impossible to tire of, it could light up a discotheque or soundtrack a night in with some jazz cigarettes. Who knows or cares what all this nonsense means — and I suspect that it might puzzle a lot of Japanese speakers too — but I imagine they're making a commentary on western perspectives of Asian women. They're not here to serve you or please you with some rumpo but to attack you with some craziness. If we're going to use a lazy stereotype to describe them then why not use something better than 'geisha'? Good on them. Is it too far out for some? I suppose so but that's their problem. They can have all that boring crap from '84.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Red Box: "Saskatchewan"

I am well aware of the fact that the majority of Britons know next to nothing about Canada - it was the very first thing I learned about it when I lived there in fact. Thus, I won't quibble with Heath wondering why the members of Red Box are "singing about a Canadian town" when Saskatchewan is in fact a province (and, actually, he may not even be wrong since the lyrics go on about "Qu'Appelle Valley, Saskatchewan" which is sort of a town). Written by Buffy Sainte-Marie about the place of her birth, the original is reverential but so, too, is Red Box's interpretation. Quite whether Simon Toulson-Clarke and co. ever bothered going to the Canadian Prairie Provinces is something to ask them but his interest in native affairs is genuine and the record is heartfelt. Not the hit that Heath hopes for but they'd soon be in the top ten with another single borrowing liberally from the natives. I hope they sent a cheque to the good people of Qu'Appelle Valley, Saskatchewan.

The Associates: "Breakfast"

17 January 1985

"Melodrama at its best, this is the kind of thing to listen to on a brittle white winter morning, while feeling love-lorn and poetic."

— Vici MacDonald

We last encountered The Associates on here just as they happened to be on the ascent. They really did have it all: a frontman with a kind of melancholic charisma partnered with an able guitarist who in tandem pieced together a single that is so catchy and so addictive that when the good people at Ace Records finally get round to inviting me to curate a Singles of the Fortnight compilation it will be on my shortlist. Fleshed out with a strong cast of backing musicians — who weren't quite full time Associates (though you'd never know it given the way the camera operator seems to adore Martha Ladly's keyboard posturing), it seems they were only associated with The Associates — Billy McKenzie and Alan Rankine appeared set.

Three years on and looked at what's changed. That big breakthrough never occurred, the hits quickly began to dry up and everyone left. Well, almost everyone. Effectively an entirely new band (or a solo project in all but name), McKenzie was the man in charge and, given the state of the shambolic recording sessions that resulted in third album Perhaps initially being rejected by their/his record label, proved to be in over his head. Now, I'm not so sure that the original incarnation of The Associates was much cop to begin with. Yes, "Party Fears Two" is magnificent but the group struggled to better it and proved incapable of even delivering more of the same. Subsequent Rankine-area singles "Country Club" and "18 Carat Love Affair" aren't too bad but they don't light up a room or cheer up a dreary bus ride the way their predecessor did so effortlessly. So, it's not as if they were running with all this momentum but the departures of Rankine and bassist Michael Dempsey and Ladly's non-appearance here (she's listed as still a "member" until '86 but she doesn't appear to have done much with them during the mid-eighties) were huge setbacks.

Thus, McKenzie was coming back at a point of probable weakness. His songs could be a perfect vessel for any vulnerability he was feeling and in this respect "Breakfast" works well enough. The vocalist's Bowie-like pitch having been jettisoned in favour of something much more downcast and accompanied by strings and a graceful piano, the result is stark even if one may or may not end up feeling touched by it. Vici MacDonald isn't wrong about the record being best suited to "brittle white winter morning[s]" but it fails to align itself with any other mood and/or climate and forces listeners to either adapt to its bleakness or give up listening intently. This fortnight's critic isn't too bothered by McKenzie's "totally incomprehensible" lyrics but it's something I'm having trouble looking past. Even within the context of the singer's eventual suicide just over twelve years later it fails to connect with me. Matters may be too personal to allow others in or I'm just a cold and sad bastard but, either way, I find myself in admiration of the bleak beauty but shrug at the heartfelt but impenetrable confessions that lie within.

Simon Reynolds has called them the "great should-have-beens of British pop" and I think that can be taken to mean a lot. They should have had more hits and success. They should have been much more than a flash in the pan. They should have fulfilled their promise. They should have had a turn on the eighties revival circuit - perhaps even to this day. And they should have found a way to get an apathetic public over to their side. But should they have been able to top "Party Fears Two"? That's asking an awful lot.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Colourfield: "Thinking of You"

Billy McKenzie wasn't the only one experiencing a come down around this time. Having been a key part of The Specials' stunning run of superlative singles and doing fair business with offshoot band Fun Boy Three (especially their swansong "Our Lips Are Sealed", still my favourite SOTF, just pipping ver League's "Love Action"), it's a bit sad to see Terry Hall going the cheerful route with his latest act The Colourfield. It's a difficult song to dislike but it's also hard to take seriously. Maybe I'm not even meant to. Still, aren't there better things he could have been doing? Like taking a page out of Billy McKenzie's book and going for more sorrow for one.

Frankie Goes to Hollywood: "The Power of Love"

6 December 1984

"It might not sell as many t-shirts as "Relax" but the sharp money's on Des O'Connor doing a cover version within two years."

— Lesley White

It's been about twenty years now since reports began to emerge about a sextet of Americans from the south who were calling themselves 'Frankie Goes to Hollywood'. Led by Davey Johnson, who sometimes claimed to be Holly Johnson's brother, they were said to be an authentic continuation of of the unforgettable eighties Liverpool outfit even though (a) they had Dixie accents, (b) members of the original Frankie most certainly didn't and (c) they were absolute crap — a claim I feel very comfortable making despite having never heard them. If the 'New Frankie Goes to Hollywood Featuring Davey Johnson' (as they were also known as) had a talent it was their ability to fabricate their origin story, to double-down on it when called out and to alter it as time went on — not unlike a certain American president, as a matter of fact. I first became aware of them when "Johnson" was interviewed on the news to promote their show in Calgary. His "brother" Holly, he told a naive TV reporter, was unwell at the moment but they were hoping he'd be able to join them on tour at some point. Later, they seemed to drop Davey's familial relationship but then began claiming that some of them were uncredited sessioners on Frankie's debut album Welcome to the Pleasuredome. When called out by everyone from the media to former members of the original group, their manager put forth the dubious theory that because most of the group never actually played on their records, they weren't a real group and, thus, their name was up for grabs. Amazingly, this convinced precisely no one and the group presumably went back to Alabama where they are now known as 'Milli Vanilli Mark 2'. Probably.

The above anecdote isn't terribly relevant to this week's entry but for what it must have been like to have seen The New Frankie Goes to Hollywood. "Relax" made it into the top ten in North America (helped along no doubt by the famous t-shirts) and "Two Tribes" did okay too so Davey and his fellow fraudulent Frankies would have been forced to recreate those two numbers as well as they could but what else would have made it into their setlist? "Welcome to the Pleasuredome"? "Rage Hard"? "Warriors of the Wasteland"? Would the good people of Tulsa and Jacksonville and Calgary have known just how many old UK hits were being excluded? And did old Davey even know more than two Frankie songs? That they admitted to heading in the direction of rock (not a surprise given that they looked like Sugar Ray covers band) and played "C-grade Bryan Adams-type fare" makes me suspect that more obscure FGTH numbers weren't a priority. They were more likely to tackle Huey Lewis' "Power of Love" than their namesakes'.

No one would have known it at the time but 1984 was pretty much the end of New Pop. True, most of the big acts were still around but many were clinging to success rather than basking in it. The likes of ABC, The Human League and Madness began to discover their knack for top ten hits coming up short, their loyal and sizable fanbases still managing to keep them chart relevant. Pin-ups Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet found themselves drifting creatively, the former trying a bit too hard to keep things fresh while the latter nosediving into a formulaic funk. Culture Club was no longer able to tap into the zeitgeist and began to look daft. Wham! were at their commercial apogee but at the expense of the luxurious, proletarian charm of their earlier work. Only Frankie Goes to Hollywood proved capable of combining chart dominance with cultural relevance and an ability to get people talking — and they were soon to implode too.

It's fitting, then, that the year closes out with new pop's last hurrah. Had the combined affects of the Ethiopian Civil War, famine and drought not happened, we would have had two main contenders for the Christmas number one both from Britain's pop boom. A maturing Wham! on one side and Frankie Goes to Hollywood, the most shocking mainstream British group since the Sex Pistols, on the other. Both were then riding a wave of massive success and both did so coming out of gay culture. Where George Michael and Andrew Ridgely were moving in the direction of old school Motown and soul, Holly Johnson and his chums used the tabloids and kiddy pop mags (such as ver Hits) in equal measure to stir things up and get noticed. It must've helped that the records were decent too. 

Coming in on the heels of the mega-success of "Relax" and "Two Tribes", "The Power of Love" is often forgotten or mentioned as little more than the song that gave the group their third number one on the bounce. Those that have discussed it typically bring up its stately nature which flew in the face of its predecessors; the only thing shocking about it was that it didn't shock anyone. Lesley White expresses relief that they chose to "take a welcome break from the cynical business of controversy-stirring to deliver a tender little love song" and is impressed that Holly Johnson "bust[s] a gut to sound achingly sincere". This is true but perhaps they were going for a bit of subtlety for once. That the song opens with a promise to "protect you from the Hooded Claw" indicates that we're not so far from the absurd and a later invocation to "flame on burn desire / love with tongues of fire" betrays the overall piety, particularly alongside the more-than-a little-camp nativity scene depicted in the video. Love and lust complimenting each other, just as the baby Jesus would have wanted. 

Rather surprisingly, "The Power of Love" isn't belittled as a cynical holiday cash-in. The fact that Christmas isn't mentioned probably helps but that also hinders its subsequent status as a festive favourite thirty-five years on. Sure, it still appears of UK-centric Christmas compilations but frequently as an add-on, a reminder of just what Band Aid and Wham! had to try to overcome. It may light up a wedding, get everyone crying at a funeral or put a pair of lovers in the mood for a little sexual congress but it doesn't get you in the Christmas spirit. Few songs do.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Wham!: "Last Christmas"

Far more of a seasonal favourite than "The Power of Love", "Last Christmas" lost the battle (although that ended up being to Band Aid, Frankie's hit having already peaked and fallen by Christmas Day) but ended up winning the war as it is now effectively a modern day Christmas carol - not to mention a much more likely candidate for an interpretation by Des O'Connor. As always, it is beautifully sung by George Michael but sadly free of humour, setting a worrying precedent for the singer's upcoming solo career. (I'm well-aware that it wouldn't have achieved classic status had the song's story of returning love the way others might return a gift on Boxing Day had been comically built upon but that's the kind of sucker for silly seasonal tunes I am) Again, not one for getting me into the spirit of Christmas but effective for winding the holidays down: belly stretched to its limits and in that woozy haze of too much turkey and wine and a family member says, "well, that's it for another year" and you get all maudlin and "Last Christmas" becomes the song you've got to have on.