7 Inch Singles Collection: The Shadows - Love Deluxe

Stepping back into the shadows...

THE SHADOWS

A-Side: Love Deluxe

B-Side: Sweet Saturday Night

(EMI 1978)

Here we find the Shadows in 1978 in something of a limbo position, three years earlier they'd been on the relative high of representing the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest. (You can read that sentence with as much or as little irony as you like), they'd also recently had a number one album in the shape of "20 Golden Greats" - a best of package. So you'd maybe expect them to have some kind of public profile - but no their last few singles had failed to get anywhere near the charts. It looked like all that was left was the greatest hits circuits - this was to change, but not with this record, but the one after (which is another story for another time). This record is quite possibly The Shadows single that has been least heard, and least heard of. Neither tracks were from albums and neither make it to compilations very often.

It's easy to see why Love Deluxe is not a great song. It's a vocal track - The Shadows have always been a fine adequate vocal group - but it's not the vocals that are the problem. Bruce sings well, although he doesn't seem to be doing much guitar playing, and neither does Hank. That's part of the problem - if you're listening to The Shadows you kind of expect thto hear Hank Marvin's distinctive guitar playing - there are guitars present here, but there way down in the mix, and it could be anyone playing them. As a song it's a keyboard heavy piece of uptempo pop, bouncy enough but not particularly memorable. Just to add insult to injury there are some light disco woven throughout the record, particularly nasty are the synth drums that pop in and out of the song. I'm not dissing disco, but it needs to be performed by seasoned disco professionals not shoehorned into a light piece of AOR. Love Deluxe is not the worst vocal track that The Shadows have recorded, (for my money that honour goes to The Bandit off their second album), it is however probably their worst single*.

It's a relief to flip this record over and discover Sweet Saturday Night nestling there. It's not that it's brilliant, but it's more of what I expect. There's no singing, and the guitar noises coming out are unmistakably Hank B. Marvin. Sweet Saturday Night has a soft funky groove, there's still a hint of trying to surf the disco zeitgeist, but it's a bit more restrained. Little synth twinkles actually accent, rather than distract from the tune. It's rather mellow with a yearning quality to it. Where most pop/rock songs break out into a guitar solo about 2/3 of the way through this has a little percussion solo - long enough to engage and short enough not to bore before Hank effortless glides back in with a couple of smooth riffs and then settles back into the main groove before the song fades away. It's not great but it is pleasant enough to make up for the a-side.

There you go then, a horrible record from my favourite band - these things happen, but it should be all uphill with every other Shadows record from now on**.

*There's one other that we'll come across that is a strong contender for this title.
**See above footnote.

Next time some early 90's indie psychedelia...

7 inch singles collection: Scritti Politti - The Word Girl

Green is the colour...

SCRITTI POLITTI

A-Side: The Word Girl (Flesh & Blood)
B-Side: Flesh & Blood

(Virgin 1985)

Scritti Politti is a name that to me promises something other than it delivers. The name, apparently, means political writing - so what I expected from Scritti Politti when I first heard the name was some kind of agit-pop political diatribists - all angry shouting and choppy guitars, not the more melodious dance-pop that they delivered. Of course it being dancey stuff initially set my teenage self against it - as with many different genres that I was set against during my youth I've come to appreciate more as I've aged. My excellent wife has a couple of Scritti Politti albums and I feel a better understanding of them now than I ever did, and also a realisation that amongst the soft dance tunes there are writings of political import as well.

Notwithstanding the above The Word Girl was a song that I quite liked at the time - it has a sweet lilting reggae melody that feels light and airy. Green Gartside's voice is quiet and precise, and captures the essence of dreamy adoration that he feels to the girl in question. there's a the coming to terms with the fact that she's not just ideal, or a word, but she is "Flesh and Blood" as well. There's not much more that I can say about The Word Girl - it's a pleasant song that seems lightweight and throwaway, but ends up ensnaring you in it's charms.

Flesh And Blood is a recurring theme here - not only is it the subtitle and lyrical coda to the a-side, it's here in full glory as the b-side. During the course of this blog we will encounter records with different songs as b-sides, records where the b-side is an instrumental version of the a-side, and b-sides which are remixes of the a-side, but here is a unique example of a b-side that has exactly the same tune as the a-side, bu different words and a different singer. Flesh And Blood is rapped by a female with a Caribbean accent - Ranking Ann. Her tone is more aggressive and confrontational than Gartside's singing - and well it should be as she's rapping about how she (and all other women) are actually flesh and blood human beings - not just objects (for adoration or abuse). Not sure that it's as successful as the a-side. The contrast between the style of singing and the music doesn't really work for me, on the other hand the mirroring between the two sides of the record is nice idea and executed well.

Ultimately though, for me, there's little more to this than one good song that passes a few moments pleasantly. Oh, and I enjoy the fact that the singer's first name is Green.

Next time it's probably about time for another Shadows record...

7 inch singles collection: Prefab Sprout - The Golden Calf

Another Golden record...

PREFAB SPROUT

A-Side: The Golden Calf
B-Side: Venus of the Soup Kitchen

(Kitchenware 1989)

Prefab Sprout are a band that I've always had a soft spot for, and yet although always easy to like, I find them hard to love. Their music often seems to come pre-filtered through a haze of wistfulness and melancholy. Soft is the word that springs to mind when I think of them, and I don't mean that in any kind of pejorative way either. Soft, like a duvet, or like cumulus clouds sky high in the summertime, gentle like a spring breeze, and so often full of yearning. Part of this is down to frontman, Paddy McAloon's voice. He seems to sing in a commanding whisper, that is both fleeting and captivating. The rest of the band plays their part too - instruments are coaxed and caressed rather than thrashed and pounded, melody reigns over riff - in short them seem such sensitive souls. This is deceptive because often McAloon's lyrics are dense and intense with as much passion as they have romance.

Having written all that The Golden Calf is actual a rocky number, but that doesn't invalidate the previous paragraph, because it rocks out in a considered, thoughtful manner, lyrics are lyrical rather than just words that rhyme and fit song. It's got a rock 'n' roll bassline and rhythm section that make it chug along nicely, but somehow it doesn't quite feel right. It may have worked better in context on the album - this was the fifth single from the album (the b-side is also from the album too), which sounds to me like the record company trying milk that Golden Calf dry. Just because it's rocky and upbeat doesn't mean it should be single, particularly when those of us who were hooked in by earlier songs have already got the album. Listening to The Golden Calf I get the feeling that it's not quite all there, there's something incomplete about it, part of that incompleteness, I think, comes from not having the rest of the album around it.

Venus of the Soup Kitchen also shows us something that's missing from the A-side, and that's Wendy Smith's vocal contributions - I didn't really notice them not being there on The Golden Calf, but here where she has something to sing it really helps fill the song out. Although usually her vocals are confined to oohs and ahhs and choruses and other backing vocal duties her tone is helps round out the sound. If Paddy McAloon's voice is like velvet then Wendy Smith's voice is like air - it's light and imperceptible but you notice when it's not there. Venus of the Soup Kitchen is a more complex song, with added choral backing, and following less obvious pop song structures than the norm. It's more like a little character vignette of a show tune. Lyrically it is less obscure, and although about homelessness and destitution it's never maudlin or mawkish, and it never preaches. However it feels one paced removed and you I can stand back and admire it and appreciate the skill and the craft that's gone into it without it ever really connecting with me.

A good band with a record that is likable but ultimately adrift, cut off from the parent album and struggling without that support.

Next time some White (or possibly Green) reggae...

                                                                       

7 inch singles collection: The Stranglers - Golden Brown

A punk waltz?

THE STRANGLERS

A-Side: Golden Brown
B-Side: Love-30

(Liberty 1982)

So, were The Stranglers punk, or not? Certainly they were initially lumped in with that scene despite them being older, and less angry than many of their contemporaries. They had the sneering attitude all right, but they also had something else that set them apart from the others. Dave Greenfield’s organ playing is part of this in a landscape that is normally harsh and often discordant guitars it brings an other-worldy patina to Stranglers records. Beyond this, though, there’s a feeling in their records that they’re men playing at being boys, rather than boys playing at being men like most punk bands. Their maturity comes to the fore quite soon in their career, and songs like Peaches and Grip, (with their “nudge, nudge, wink, wink” style), disappear for more complex pieces, both lyrically and musically. Not that I’m saying that the rest of the punk upper echelons weren’t literate and intelligent, many were as we will find out later, it’s just that they kept to the basic thrash it out sound explosion for much longer than The Stranglers did.

All of which leads me to Golden Brown – for a few years The Stranglers singles had been not reaching the higher chart places of their earlier material, then suddenly this record appeared and managed to earn them their highest ever chart placing (a number 2 no less).  It’s unusual time signature (almost but not quite waltz time) rises and falls, it catches your hand as it waltzes pass and sends you spinning into the song. It feels simultaneously both pretty and subversive – we now know that it’s probably about Heroin, but that doesn’t detract from the record in any way, because the lyrics are non-specific enough for it actually to be about anything you want, some dusky exotic maiden or a new colour of non-drip gloss from Dulux. Take your pick, and let the music take you on a heady magic carpet ride.

Tennis and The Stranglers seem to be an unlikely combination, but they are brought together on Love-30. This is a largely instrumental track that’s full of echo and effect like backwards guitars. The drums provide the most consistent sound, emphasised by the occasional bass twang. Every now and then there’s the sound of a tennis ball being hit, and “out” being called. The pace is quite languid, and none of the frenetic energy that you would normal associate with a tennis match. In truth Love-30 is an inconsequential bit of noise that doesn’t last long enough to be annoying.

So were The Stranglers punk? Probably not, but they were certainly canny enough to allow themselves to flow with that particular stream for their advantage.

Next time another Golden record…

7 inch singles collection: Fairground Attraction - Clare

Folky acoustic, mariachi jazz...

FAIRGROUND ATTRACTION

A-Side: Clare
B-Side: The Game of Love

(RCA 1989)

Fairground Attraction popped up at the tail-end of the 80's with a huge number one record - Perfect - seeming from nowhere. All acoustic with a strange instrument providing the bass sound (a guitarron, the bass instrument favoured by Mariachi bands). Perfect seemed to have come from nowhere, and was inescapable in 1988. It certainly didn't sound much like anything else in the charts. It wasn't following a scene, and didn't create one in it's wake, then suddenly Fairground Attraction disappeared as suddenly as they had arisen leaving behind one great album, a handful of singles and a collection of b-sides. The constituent members of the group went off to have solo careers with a variety of success. Maybe there are more groups who should do this kind of suddenly be big, then disappear thing, rather than go on and on and on subjecting us to more of he same thing over and over again. 

Clare is not Perfect, in fact it is better then Perfect. The guitarron provides a bouncy swing to the melody that carries you along with it. It already has a jazzy feel to with Eddi Reader's voice swooping up to the high notes before gently floating down to the meat of the song. The clarinet - another highly unlikely instrument for the 80's charts - adds a proper jazz sound to this and adds a layer of melancholy as only a clarinet can. The mournfulness of the clarinet sound is needed because the rest of the tune is so jolly that it is in danger of swamping the meaning of the rest of the lyrics. The titular Clare is a "serpentine seductress" from New Orleans who has stolen the narrators lover away from her.Although the narrator comes across as a little unstable - she can "hear them making love" - if that's metaphorical then that's creepy, if that's not metaphorical than that's probably grounds for a restraining order. Fortunately the swing, the clarinet, the voice, and the lyrics all fuse together to make something that is greater than you would expect.

The Game of Love is not a cover of the Wayne Fontana and The Mindbenders song of the same same name (more's the pity). Not that this Game Of Love is not interesting in it's own right. It's a low key affair - during the singing the main instrumentation backing Eddi Reader is a snare drum, intermittently punctuated by trumpets and clarinets, on the instrumental break and on the tail end of the record these take over, and what we've got is a slow and smokey trad jazz number. As a song it's slight, but charming, and it knows just when to finish - so I can't really criticize it.

Overall this is a record that is different from the norm, and succeeds almost effortlessly. I was going to say that it dares to be different - but that would be wrong, it's not in itself a showy daredevil of a record, instead it charms and seduces just like the Clare of the a-side by using all of it's natural talents to draw the audience in.

Next time a punk waltz..?

7 inch singles collection: The Godfathers - Cause I Said So

How I should respond when anyone asks why my opinion matters...

THE GODFATHERS

A-Side: 'Cause I Said So
B-Side: When Am I Coming Down

(Epic 1988)

Maybe it's appropriate that this record comes hot on the heals of The Animals (see previous entry), because although 25 years separate them both bands are cut from the same cloth. Both has a no nonsense, back-to-basics sound that is reliant upon years of tradition, both have strong, passionate vocalists, both have a well-groomed, and suited look belying much of the aggression within. The sound of alternative music in 1988 was (if you looked in the NME, Melody Maker or Sounds) was quite fuzzy, often drowned in layers of sound with frequently fey and airy vocals, against this backdrop The Godfathers were a breath of fresh air, and their album of 1988 "Birth, School, Work, Death" was a particular favourite of mine. They provided a hard blast of uncomplicated that didn't wander of into the more self-indulgent sides of hard rock and metal.

'Cause I Said So is self-confidant and arrogant, and with a title like that it needs to be, or it just wouldn't work. There's an argument that this record is anti-intellectualism and pro-ignorance, positing that the school-of-hard-knocks education is the one that matters. I don't see it this way - much more they are criticising those who spend all their time on detailed over-analysis on things like "Baudelaire's poetry", and aren't using their intelligence on the practicalities of life. In the end though this is a moot point, because, ultimately 'Cause I Said So rocks! Peter Coyne's vocals area an audible sneer, and in the end it really does't matter if we like this record - he knows it's great and that's all that matters.

It's an entirely different story on the b-side and the brashness has become an uneasy question - When Am I Coming Down? I'm going to go ahead and assume that that is a drugs reference - but I don't know if the narrator has taken them willingly, or has had them forced upon him. It's an odd feeling because, just from the a-side of this record we've become used to a confidant, arrogant voice, now here he is sounding lost and confused. It really doesn't suit him at all. When Am I Coming Down has all the vague musical trappings of many late 60's hippy songs - but doesn't go all out for them I suppose you could call it Slightlydelic. It's the wrong sound for this band though - especially in isolation as a b-side. It worked better on the original album where it finished the first side, and then you could come out of the fog into more songs like 'Cause I Said So. But here it feels wrong.

In the end this record has a great a-side which more than compensates for the misjudged b-side.

Next time something a bit jazzier...

7 inch Singles collection: The Animals - House of the Rising Sun

Old blues songs never die...


THE ANIMALS

A-Side: House of The Rising Sun
B-Side: Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood
              I'm Crying

(RAK 1964)

Obviously this isn't the original 1964 pressing, but something from the late 70's/early 80's to act as a kind of a 3 hit mini-compilation.
Let's talk about definitions briefly R'n'B seems to be something different today that what it was in the 1960's. I'm about to make some sweeping generalisations here, but R'n'B now seems to refer to sassy black American women singing slickly-produced soul-based dance numbers, whereas the 60's version was very much about middle-class white British boys with guitars, bashing out the blues with attitude. I know which I prefer, an in the context of this record it's the latter of the two definitions I'll be working to in this piece. 

Whilst the early Stones, the Yardbirds, Them, The Zombies, Manfred Mann and The Pretty Things, (more of all of them later!) may well represent the cream of the crop of R'n'B, I reckon that The Animals may well have the sound and attitude of te quintisesstial R'n'B group. They chose their name well having a naturalistic, animalistic, raw feel. 

You probably know House of the Rising Sun already, if not from this then maybe Bob Dylan's folky version, or Frijid Pink's bizarre hard rock version, or any number of hundreds of different versions going back well over at least a hundred years - all with slightly different lyrics.Having said that when I think of this song it's always The Animals take on it that comes to mind first. The rise and fall of the guitar arpeggios (performed by the magnificently named Hilton Valentine) overlayed by Eric Burdon's impassioned blues shouting sticks in the memory. One of the the things that distinguishes the sound of The Animals is Alan Price's organ (stop sniggering at the back), I know it's not a church organ, but it still feels reverent and gives the whole song a hymnal quality. What's it about? Well about 4 and half minutes (ba-dum-tisch!) - that seems like a bit of a flippant answer, but it's important because despite being about two minutes longer than most of it's contemporary competitors it still managed to rise to the top of the heap, both in the UK and the USA (and many other places across the globe). This make it a significant record historically as one of the first stepping stones towards rock (as oppose to 50's style rock 'n' roll). The fact that it is really about destitution, degradation and desolation as the result of alcoholism just makes it even more astonishing. House of the Rising Sun by the Animals is truly not just a fantastic record but an important one too.

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood seems like another old standard too, but actually was fairly fresh at the time having only been written a year or two earlier for Nina Simone. Again so many people have covered this track, and once again it's The Animals who, for me, have provided us with the definitive version. All the stuff that make House of the Rising Sun great is here, but the real key to this song, the reason why this makes an impression is Eric Burdon's singing - he has a great blues rock voice, and what makes it special is the passion the is in the performance of the lyrics - he's not just singing the words of the song - he really is pleading not to be misunderstood. You really feel for him, he sounds like man who's been pushed to the edge and only has one chance left. I heard a story about Eric Burdon many years ago which may or may not be true, but it illustrates the point I'm making. Apparently he didn't like doing television appearances to promote the records because he wasn't good at miming to the record (as many TV promo slots were wont to be). The reason he wasn't good at miming was that every time he sang a song he put a lot of emotion into it so every time he performed it was different and he couldn't recreate that spirit through miming. Which is pretty much one of the best arguments for letting musicians play live on the telly I've heard.

The third track on this record may be the lesser of them, but it's still a great piece. If you were to look for the most typical piece of music to illustrate the British R'n'B boom, then you could do worse than picking I'm Crying. The organ drives across the blues backbone of the record, never letting up the pace. It's very of it's time - almost from the opening chords this record says "This is 1964" - it could come from nowhere else. Compared to the other tracks on this record it's a lightweight bit of sneering bluesy froth, however taken away from the other songs it's still good enough to stand on it's own. Whilst lyrically it seems as bleak and mournful as the other two songs, musically it's an aggressive juggernaut that is made for dancing.

I know I like The Animals and I think they're a fantastic band, but they are a group that I don't listen to that much these days - so I'm glad that I've listened to this and reminded myself that I need to listen to them much more.

Next time I may answer the question why am I bothering with this...