Compared to where most of the band's career would later go, Accelerator is a fairly conventional debut from the duo — certainly it's the most explicitly commercial-minded the duo ever was, slotting in well with many other early-'90s U.K. dance/techno outfits. As such it's also arguably the least cryptic and most approachable release for newcomers, holding up well a decade after its original appearance. Rather than focusing on ambient experimentalism or industrial noise destruction, here Future Sound of London sound like a straightforward if at times inspired act, whose tendencies to push the envelope are secondary to keeping the beat going. The main reason to listen remains its awesome single "Papua New Guinea," blending a treated vocal sample from Dead Can Dance's Lisa Gerrard with a slightly sped-up James Brown drum loop and other, more shadowy touches like echoed piano. The result combines exaltation, energy, and atmosphere into a dramatic result, as danceable as it is subtly threatening. At various points on Accelerator, FSOL show an inspired focus on breakbeats as much as acid pulses; while nowhere near as frenetic as other early hardcore/jungle creations, the music clearly leans towards those records in inspiration. "Expander," which also appears in a remix at the end, makes for a good start for the album along those lines, while "Central Industrial" plays around with more distorted rhythms. At other points FSOL follows in more conventional veins — "Stolen Documents" is practically an early 808 State track in all but name — while throwing in odd noises and background quirks which in later years would dominate their own compositions. "It's Not My Problem" in particular is a fun little creepout, a flat semi-robot voice declaiming the title as needed while buried synths create a darker mood amidst the regular beat and additional, echoed percussion hits. [A 2002 edition released added a bonus disc of "Papua New Guinea" remixes, with post-production from Andrew Weatherall and Satoshi Tomiie, among others.]
The themes of bad corporate practices, corrupt politicians, overuse of resources, pollution, and other forms of social distress—and even, occasionally, love and relationships—permeate the songs from Blue Sky Mining. This album—sorry for the pun—is the crown jewel of Midnight Oil's somewhat angry and very successful career. On some of their work prior to Blue Sky Mining, the bile was very close to the surface; but with this album, the gents decided to focus fully on song craft first, hook us on the songs AS GOOD SONGS, and let the messages work their way into our brains later. It works quite brilliantly. Strong production values somehow allow the music to feel edgy and warm at the same time, and the lyrics provide stories and character portraits, not just moralizing diatribes. The album is so consistently good all the way through that it's difficult to pick top songs, but it's fair to say the most memorable ones might be title track "Blue Sky Mine," "Mountains of Burma, "Forgotten Years," "King of the Mountain," and "River Runs Red." Few of the issues Midnight Oil complain about on the album have improved since the album's release in 1990, which means Blue Sky Mining remains relevant today, both musically and lyrically.
The Teardrop Explodes second, and final, album, Wilder. The original was released in November 1981. At the start of the year, ‘Reward’ had given the Teardrops their only Top Ten hit but amidst all the publicity that always surrounded the group, Wilder reached only a disappointing 29 in the charts. The first extracted single ‘Passionate Friend’, despite two appearances on Top of the Pops, barely scraped into the Top 30. Within a year of Wilder’s release, the group had split up. This new edition features the original album in all its glory, plus a second disc compiled and sequenced by Julian Cope containing all the related singles, b-sides and BBC radio sessions.
Cope also provides a track by track breakdown, while Dave Balfe, the Teardrops’s original keyboard player, foil and sometime nemesis to Cope, along with guitarist Troy Tate provide further notes; Balfe’s essay is a particularly honest and revealing account of the recording process.
Disc two is effectively an alternative version of the album, the BBC sessions presenting many key songs in a noticeably different form, closer to how the group used to play them live. One the eve of recording Wilder, bassist Alfie Agius and keyboard player Jeff Hammer (both of whom play on the radio sessions) were jettisoned, leaving only Cope, ever-faithful drummer Gary Dwyer and guitarist Tate. Dave Balfe then returned, whereupon he and Cope proceeded to rearrange virtually every song with a much greater emphasis on synths and experimentation, and with a far more downbeat complexion than the well-crafted psychedelic pop that was their trademark.
The radio sessions also include songs which didn’t make it on to the album; Cope’s take on John Cale’s ‘I’m Not The Loving Kind’ and the powerful ‘Screaming Secrets’, a live tour de force which the group never nailed in the studio. Cope would eventually record it for St Julian.
Disc two also rounds up the b-sides to the three singles taken from Wilder: the infectious ‘Passionate Friend’, the punchy, brass-led ‘Colours Fly Away’, and the exquisitely plaintive ‘Tiny Children’, plus the non-album single ‘You Disappear From View’, a last-ditch reversion to the ‘Reward’ formula, released in 1983 after the group had split up.
It’s a rich and varied selection including the more challenging ‘Christ Vs Warhol’ and ‘Window Shopping For A New Crown Of Thorns’, the charming, atypical ‘Rachel Built A Steamboat’, ‘Suffocate’ (a re-recorded version of the song which only appeared on the US version of Kilimanjaro) and a full-on, live ‘Sleeping Gas’, recorded at Club Zoo. Amidst the disbelief and surprise at Wilder’s poor showing, Club Zoo was an outrageously excess all areas six week stint at the tiny Pyramid Club in Liverpool featuring the Wilder line up of Cope, Balfe, Dwyer and Tate plus new bassist Ronnie Francois. Designed to break in the new band, it was more a dress rehearsal for the American tour that followed - a fraught, drug-fuelled disaster which saw the group unravel to a point from which they never really recovered.
For fans of the group, and those that fondly remember the original album, this is an essential purchase, as it offers a brief glimpse into how the album may have sounded had the original lineup been present for the studio recording. Equally, for Cope's more modern fans, this album takes you back to a pivotal time in his career
The Teardrop Explodes were one of the most undeservedly overlooked bands of the early eighties. Their remarkable debut, Kilimanjaro (1980), has been reissued in a deluxe triple-disc set and is a wonderful reminder of just how great the group was.
Led by songwriter, vocalist, author and LSD advocate Julian Cope, The Teardrop Explodes came out of the same late-seventies Liverpool scene that spawned Echo And The Bunnymen, among others. In fact, the two groups were so closely related at that point that a song written by Cope and Echo vocalist Ian McCullough was released on both artists’ debuts. On Kilimanjaro the song is simply titled “Books,“ while on The Bunnymen’s debut, Crocodiles, it is called “Read It In Books.”
As interesting as that little factoid is, however, “Books” is actually one of the lesser tracks on Kilimanjaro. The album is so front loaded with superior material, is it really hard to believe they did not garner the type of attention they warranted. “Ha Ha I’m Drowning (In Your Love)” opens the record up with some great horn work and marvelously creative lyrics.
“Sleeping Gas” finds Cope repeating the line, “I just wander around, I just wander around,” and there is little doubt he was telling the truth. The brilliant U.K. hit single, “Treason” is next, and is one I just cannot say enough about. It is one of those songs that you can just listen to over and over, and never tire of.
Cope has never been shy about his enjoyment of drugs, although I think he has probably mellowed a bit by now. In any case, “Poppies In The Field” is sort of ambiguous lyrically about the subject: “The poppies are in the field, don’t ask me what that means.” It really doesn’t matter because the bass carries this tune so well while the pathos in Cope’s voice are intoxicating in their own right.
The only quoted lyrics on the package are from “Went Crazy”: “They told my friends it was a secret but it’s rumored that some of us went crazy.” Make of it what you will, but the eleven songs that make up this album are uniformly excellent. Kilimanjaro is absolutely one of my favorite eighties records.
This expanded edition is as full of extra goodies as one would imagine. Disc Two — Bates Motel consists of rare B-sides and early versions of Kilimanjaro tunes. There is some fascinating material including “Strange House In The Snow,” and a French version of “Treason” (“Traison”). The final of the thirteen tracks contained on this disc is a great live version of “Sleeping Gas.”
Disc Three — BBC Sessions is as described — live cuts recorded in the BBC studios. Highlights of the eleven cuts recorded 1979-1980 include versions of “Went Crazy,” “Poppies In The Field,” and “Ha Ha I’m Drowing.” The disc finishes with a nice obscurity from the era, “The Great Dominions.”
For fans like myself, all of these extras are a lot of fun. There are also some great commentaries from the principles in the accompanying booklet. But none of it tops Kilimanjaro itself. This is simply a brilliant record, and no fan of post-punk, neo-psychedelic British music should be without it.
Terry Hall is most engaging when he is miserable. Hall, formerly of the Specials and Fun Boy Three, began delving into his shattered heart with the Colourfield in the mid-'80s. On his second solo album, Laugh, Hall is again weeping in his ale despite the cheerful appellation. On the surface, this album is distilled sunshine: The blanket of tastefully strummed acoustic guitars of "Love to See You," the crystalline jangle and sweet harmonies of "Sonny and His Sister," and the soaring chorus of "Take It Forever" seduce the listener into singing along to Hall's lyrics without realizing how tormented they are. Like Morrissey and Robert Smith of the Cure, Hall can sweep his angst underneath toe-tapping hooks. The shimmering guitar pop of "Summer Follows Spring" sounds as if it were made for a Sunday afternoon stroll, but it's a booby trap; the track is actually about his lover having an affair. "Last night you slept with someone else," Hall plaintively sings, while ex-Smiths member Craig Gannon paints fluffy white clouds with his six-string. While Hall mined the '60s with the Colourfield, his affection for '70s AM radio fodder is proudly displayed on Laugh. The songs are straightforward and immaculately produced, lacking any quirks or rough edges. If Hall didn't have such poetic and biting lyrics, this could be described as an easy listening record. Nevertheless, his mournful voice merges beautifully with the soft rock of his band. On "Ballad of a Landlord," Hall's whispery tone is matched by subtle strings; the music slowly builds volume and tempo with the rising emotion in Hall's vocals and lyrics. When he exclaims, "So now the place lies in ruin/the way you lied and ruined me," the guitars suddenly become louder, capturing the pain and resentment in his voice and words. Hall chooses to cover Todd Rundgren's "I Saw the Light" at the album's end; however, beneath its bouncy, infectious beat, there are no barbed confessions. Then again, Hall didn't write it.
Re-issue featuring all b-sides from the singles released from this album ("Ballad of a Landlord" and "Love to See You").
Five long years in the making, the Blue Nile's stellar Hats was well worth the wait; sweeping and majestic, it's a triumph of personal vision over the cold, remote calculations of technology. While created almost solely without benefit of live instruments, it is nevertheless an immensely warm and human album; Paul Buchanan's plaintive vocals and poignant songs are uncommonly moving, and his deployment of lush synth washes and electronic percussion is never gratuitous, each song instead crafted with painterly precision. Impressionistic and shimmering, tracks like "The Downtown Lights" and "From a Late Night Train" are perfectly evocative of their titles: Rich in romantic atmosphere and detail, they conjure a nocturnal fantasy world lit by neon and shrouded in fog, leaving Hats an intensely cinematic experience as well as a masterpiece of musical obsession,
On Disc two, the extras, well it’s possibly a bit thin – if you’ve collected up the singles then you’ll have the b-sides but if you stopped at the albums or this is your first time accessing the album then you’ve got something new ahead of you on disc two.
But I’m happy enough with the half-hour of extras because reissues only work for me if the album deserves to be heard again – in a new way, with fresh ears and Hats (and any of the Blue Nile albums) certainly deserves that.
Gorgeous from the opening Over The Hillside through to the closer, Saturday Night. Here we have the pencil-sketches of the debut, but with extra shading.
Hats was released in 1989 – it might, if anything, seem more appropriate now; it’s certainly lost absolutely nothing, and hearing it (again) after Buchanan’s solo album it almost feels like it could be a follow-up to that, as much as it was to the first Blue Nile album.
That yearning sound Buchanan seems to on the one hand so effortlessly summon, on the other you know he’s pouring out his soul, giving his heart to each song, take Headlights on the Parade for example. Wow.
Morose, maudlin, world-weary, it never sounded so sweet, so soulful, so beautiful.
Long before electro-pop and EDM became the cash cow that they are presently, one singular Scottish band forged a much-lauded niche by writing electro-inspired gems aided by airy synths, crystalline vocals and lyrics that were both poetic and prescient. Said band is the trio The Blue Nile, who recently reissued their 1984 debut A Walk Across the Rooftops, earlier this year. Remixed remastered and bookended by a companion disc featuring b-sides, rarities and fan favorites, the disc is an absolute must-have for anyone who has ever sat down at a keyboard and tried to write a song.
The title track and album opener is an atmospheric valentine replete with trumpet, strings and Paul Buchanan's quivering vocals. Both an affecting love song and a study in grade A songwriting, the song is a triumph in every sense of the word. Being that the album is a seminal classic, the title track is succeeded by six more near-masterpieces. "Tinseltown in the Rain" is moody, pensive and features a chugging beat that paints a cinematic and nocturnal portrait of defiant affection. Buttressed by strings, a pounding bass, the song leaps out of the speakers from the very first go.
"Rags to Riches" is quiet and meditative that coasts on the wings of rippling synths and Paul Buchanan's impassioned pleading. The song's latter 90 seconds take a dip towards ambient and celestial but that sense of free-form improvisation is what makes the song so compelling. "Stay" is pleading and effective as it wobbles and shivers with every passing second. Much like its predecessor, "Stay" features a final minute that finds the trio giving in to their instruments and letting their sweeping songcraft take flight.
"Easter Parade" is the album's lone piano ballad, a timeless and sparse effort that is a nearly flawless study in how restraint can give way to building crescendos. In addition, aside from being an indelible rumination on the ascent of spring, "Easter Parade" is also a master class in how just a piano, vocals and sensitive songwriting can do wonders.
The airy and spartan "Heatwave" trembles lightly with both grace and empathy. For any struggling songwriter wanting to know how to write songs that connect and click, look no further than "Heatwave." A Walk Across the Rooftops closes with the plaintive "Automobile Noise," a solid encapsulation of what makes both The Blue Nile and A Walk Across the Rooftops so great: sterling songwriting, a gifted vocalist and winning arrangements.
On Disc Two, there's The Police-like bounce of "I Love This Life," an ode to embracing life and relishing in simple delights; the previously unreleased "St. Catherine's Day," an absorbing ballad that is both timeless and engaging; and the spartan "The Second Act," a call to arms that showcases Buchanan's gifted range. "Regret" is supple, solacing and simple, while "Heatwave (Rhythm Mix)" is tribal, urban and eclectic. "Tinseltown in the Rain (Mix)" is fleshed out, nuanced and rhythmic. Far denser than the original, this version gives the song more life and vibrancy and shows the very power of a strong remix. Ditto for "Stay (Little Mix)," a decidedly more jazzy and ethereal effort that gives the song a whole new vibe and allows the song and lyrics to be seen through an entirely different prism.
Give yourself an hour and sit down with either of these discs, chances are it will make an impact. That very reason makes it all worth it. Then again, good songwriting always does.
Becoming increasingly bored by the rock-based indie scene of the time, Pete Wylie started with a rock & roll record and ended up with something entirely different for the proper follow-up to 1981's Nah = Poo. Incorporating funk, soul, reggae, and gospel, in addition to lumping on brass and string sections of the real and synthetic varieties, it came as no surprise that A Word to the Wise Guy took a long time to complete and involved philosophical scraps between all of those in the studio. Dropped by Warner Bros. for not having any hit potential, Wylie and company wound up with a fresh start on Beggars Banquet. Attempts at gospel ("The Story of the Blues"), reggae (the incidental "Yuh Learn"s), soul ("Everwanna," "What's Happening Now"), flag waving Boss rock ("Come Back"), and inexplicable hybrids of any combination imaginable ("Papa Crack/God's Lonely Man) have all of the required spirit but none of the lasting value. Chalk it up to wanting to do too much, aiming to make a massive-sounding record that doesn't quite make it. Since it sounds very of its time, A Word to the Wise Guy is one of those "you had to be there" deals. For all his boastfulness and overbearing iconography, Wylie should be commended for never being a mope and also for never approaching complacency. Regardless of the mixed results here, Wylie has passion and intensity through his marrow. Like the other Wah! reissues released by Castle in 2001, numerous bonus tracks are scattered, as well as track-by-track commentary from Wylie and numerous photos and press clippings
For a brief while, Edinburgh-born musician Finley Quaye genuinely seemed like the future. When Maverick a Strike was released in September 1997, its maker arrived with a beguiling and newsworthy back-story – son of composer Cab Kaye, half-brother of Elton John’s guitarist Caleb Quaye, and apparently an uncle to Tricky. Although that earned him column inches, it was his music, a perfect meeting point of roots reggae and the then-current trip hop craze, that made him loved.
An unsuccessful spell signed to Polydor in the mid-90s meant that Quaye had had time to craft his songs; he recorded with friends as opposed to a hastily-assembled bunch of session players and Maverick a Strike revels in its own airy, bright universe. All styles seemed welcome – funk, punk, soul, reggae and pop were all part of this infectious stew. Made with indie pop producers Jonathan Quarmby and Kevin Bacon, it’s immediately apparent why Maverick a Strike caught flame quite so quickly.
You actually forget just how ubiquitous the album was – listening again, it’s almost as if every track graced a radio somewhere or other. Its tone is set by Ultra Stimulation: a lazy groove with massed female backing vocals, swirling organ and bursts of rock guitar. It’s Great When We’re Together, full of subtle orchestration, is a great example of economy. Any desire to over-complicate this pretty song is resisted and, as a result, it’s unadorned and quite beautiful.
Sunday Shining – an adaptation of Bob Marley’s Sun Is Shining – led the album with its angular, noisy guitar and grooves like strange, dubby garage rock. The biggest single hit from the album, Even After All, is mellowness itself. Your Love Gets Sweeter sounds like it was being sung from the porch in a government yard in Trench Town. Intimately blissful, it became a huge radio hit, and seemed to feature on every compilation album of the era.
It is with little wonder that Finley Quaye won the Best British Male Solo Artist at the BRITs in 1998 and Maverick a Strike went double-platinum. Although the only lasting souvenir of his commercial and artistic success, it remains a great album, full of quirkiness, sophistication and well-written tunes.
