David Bowie—Hunky Dory

David Bowie—Hunky Dory

Hunky Dory—Usually regarded as David Bowie's first bona fide classic LP, Hunky Dory bears the overlooked quality of being a summation of the first segment of his career. David Bowie (1967) was a classicist excursion in early British Invasion and baroque pop, with a touch of the strangeness that would always be present in his work—the Beatles with a more archaic touch, essentially—David Bowie (1969), the second album to bear that title, often referred to as Space Oddity or Man of Words/Man of Music, mixed in progressive elements in the same manner as Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd, and The Man Who Sold the World (1970) furthered layered his sound with hard rock elements and obscure, dark, often maniacal lyrics. Hunky Dory is a step back from the last iteration, possibly a sign that producer Tony Visconti was responsible for the compression in sound—Visconti does not return in that role nor as Bowie's bassist as he had been on the previous two albums—but it does continue Bowie's move into more personal territory as well as observations on the latest in space fare.

"Changes," iconic for its stuttering chorus among all else, is also one of Bowie's best chord progressions, with some credit to Yes piano player Rick Wakeman. However, Bowie quickly tops himself in this respect with with "Oh! You Pretty Things," which esoterically honors outsiders. The pair of songs is interesting in the sense that both seem to embrace campy arrangements that are slyly undercut with hints of real meaning and true vision in melody that separate it from the novelty music that no doubt influenced them. The amusing but slight vignette "Eight Line Poem" was probably a real observance from Bowie. "Life on Mars?" has transcended its origins as a "My Way" parody to become one of Bowie's most rightly beloved space songs, mostly due to Mick Ronson's string arrangements. The idyllic "Kooks," written for Bowie's recently born son Duncan, is one of Bowie's most unmysterious songs ever; if it sounds vaguely like "Sugar Mountain," the Neil Young connection was deliberate. The abasing "Quicksand," which switches from mono to stereo near the end of the first passage, references the occult, Heinrich Himmler, Greta Garbo, and Winston Churchill in its apocalyptic vision, concluding, "Don't believe in yourself, don't deceive with belief/Knowledge comes with death's release."

"Fill Your Heart," the Biff Rose/Paul Williams composition, the first in a long series of once-per-album covers, fits right along with "Kooks," but it is interesting to note that the outtake "Bombers" was initially supposed to lead off the second side, which arguably better fits with the themes throughout the rest of the album. "Andy Warhol," a funny tribute to Bowie's friend with a killer acoustic arpeggio, was initially written to be performed by Dana Gillespie, just as "Oh! You Pretty Things" had been for Peter Noone (combined with the fact that Bowie had intended to write his own version of "Comme d'habitude" for Frank Sinatra, one must wonder if Bowie fantasized being a professional songwriter). The languid "Song for Bob Dylan," which came during Dylan's lean period in '71-'73 that saw very little progress from the artist, uses Dylan's own words against him ("Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song") in criticizing him for abdicating his lofty position in popular music. "Queen Bitch," the only indication that Bowie would get heavier in the years to come, ennobles Lou Reed. "The Bewlay Brothers" is a characteristic Bowie closer: complete nonsense (Bewlay being a brand of tobacco pipe) that nonetheless conveys his message effectively in texture.

By trimming the excesses from all aspects of his music (with help from new producer Ken Scott), David Bowie was able to make his most effective record to date with Hunky Dory. With the basic elements of his songs—that is to say, his singing and principal melodies—mixed in front, the world got to see just how inspired a songwriter he was, and it resulted in the first of many masterstrokes.

More David Bowie reviews by The Old Noise:

David Bowie (1967)
David Bowie (1969)
The Man Who Sold the World (1970)
Hunky Dory (1971)
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972)
Aladdin Sane (1973)
Pin Ups (1973)
Diamond Dogs (1974)
Young Americans (1975)
Station to Station (1976)
Low (1977)
"Heroes" (1977)
Lodger (1979)
Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) (1980)
Let's Dance (1983)
Tonight (1984)
Never Let Me Down (1987)
Black Tie White Noise (1993)
The Buddha of Suburbia (1993)
Outside (1995)
Earthling (1997)
'Hours...' (1999)
Heathen (2002)
Reality (2003)
The Next Day (2013)
Blackstar (2016)

XTC—The Big Express

XTC—The Big Express

The Big Express—One might venture a guess that although Andy Partridge did not miss touring, he possibly missed the big sound of XTC's older records. Mummer (1983) was an insular studio jaunt, a far cry from the drum-heavy sounds of their previous three records, Drums and Wires (1979), Black Sea (1980), and English Settlement (1982). The Big Express, which is followed in sequence by the lighthearted 25 O'Clock (1985, under the pseudonym Dukes of Stratosphear), almost seems out of place today, not just because of its production but its theory of cohesion. In a 2008 interview (Andy discusses "The Everyday Story of Smalltown," Todd Bernhardt, chalkhills.org), Partridge recalled, "I think that at the time of The Big Express, part of me wanted to do an out-and-out concept album about Swindon—my take on the town, my life in the town, and the town's life itself," Swindon being where the principal members of XTC all grew up, including bygone drummer Terry Chambers.

With that in mind, it is worth noting that The Big Express is also the most Andy Partridge-dominated record in XTC's catalog, with only two of its 11 songs composed by bassist Colin Moulding, and somewhat slight ones at that. "Washaway," an additional song of his, was left off; for posterity's sake: Partridge has indicated more than once that the band voted for what went on the records by committee, and Moulding once said about his earlier composition "Ball and Chain," "It wasn't much of a song. I think I'd gone off the boil ... The least favourite of my contributions. I don't think I got it back until Skylarking." However, there is merit to his opener "Wake Up," whose lyrics of the unbearable grind of the rat race hit close to home. It progresses to a climax in which everything but the guitar cuts out and Moulding describes a recurring dream where bystanders watch apathetically as a man dies in the gutter: a simple diversion for the people who he urges to wake up and become more than just drones.

Partridge's punchy sea shanty "All You Pretty Girls" contains one of his best verses: "I think about your pale arms waving/When I see the caps upon the green/And the rocking roller-coaster ocean/Think about you every night when I'm fathoms asleep/And in my dreams/We are rocking in a similar motion." "Shake You Donkey Up" seems to admonish a wife-beater who got his just dessert. "Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her, Kiss Her" is the album's hidden gem, painting perfectly with its visual cues the hesitant awkwardness of romance. It was also amusingly chosen by a Japanese band to be their name, as if they waited to choose the most awkward title possible as inspiration. Forlorn apocalypse ballad "This World Over" imagines the worst outcome of the Cold War, wondering if humans will claim retroactively that "we did it in His name."

The chugging "The Everyday Story of Smalltown," the most explicit of the aforementioned odes to Swindon, is most memorable to outsiders for the power of its key change and fanciful onslaught of kazoos. "I Bought Myself a Liarbird," Partridge's second bird-themed song of the album and who knows how many overall, is about XTC's then-manager. "Reign of Blows" is a somewhat boring take on his once-per-album anti-violence, anti-hate, or anti-racism message. "You're the Wish You Are I Had" is a bouncy love-at-first-sight song (of the real kind and not the lust that Moulding described in "Love at First Sight") that might have been more effective if its words were not so convoluted. Moulding's mediocre "I Remember the Sun" effectively bronzes his childhood, which makes it seem to unwittingly contribute to Partridge's concept. The neurotic "Train Running Low on Soul Coal" sums up Partridge's helplessness and guilt over the band's new direction (because what early XTC album would sit well without one of his paranoid rave-ups?).

The Big Express can be difficult to listen to, mainly because the engineering was subpar. The heavy arrangements were not handled properly, muffling the messages of songs like "Reign of Blows" under a noticeable loss of dynamic range. However, where it hits, it hits hard, and "All You Pretty Girls" and "Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her, Kiss Her" rank as classics to go with a handful of others that solid or at least interesting. The same can be said of plenty other XTC albums held in higher esteem by the general audience.

More XTC reviews by The Old Noise:

White Music (1978)
Go 2 (1978)
Drums and Wires (1979)
Black Sea (1980)
English Settlement (1982)
Mummer (1983)
The Big Express (1984)
25 O'Clock (1985)
Skylarking (1986)
Psonic Psunspot (1987)
Oranges & Lemons (1989)
Nonsuch (1992)
Apple Venus Volume 1 (1999)
Wasp Star (Apple Venus Volume 2) (2000)

Split Enz—Mental Notes

Split Enz—Mental Notes

Mental Notes—Not the first theater aficionados to take up rock instruments, Split Enz was something like New Zealand's answer to Roxy Music. Eventually, they evolved into Crowded House and became household names in other parts of the world, but that was more than ten years after the inception of Split Enz, then called Split Ends. They acted for three years as an occasional-singles band, recording three: "For You" backed with the eponymous "Split Ends," "Sweet Talkin' Spoon Song"/"129," and "No Bother to Me"/"Home Sweet Home." These songs, released collectively with other early works as The Beginning of the Enz (1979), were even farther removed from the worldwide appeal of Crowded House. "For You" was a woodwind-laden, acoustic tune with off-kilter charm: folk in the vein of Vaudeville, but with a Kiwi touch. The rest of the songs were equally idyllic, most likely due to their insular upbringing in rural New Zealand, and colored by the influence of apparent band leader Phil Judd.

To call Split Enz the Beatles of New Zealand is in many ways not an understatement, as the band was both directly influenced by the recently broken-up Beatles and also would pave the way for New Zealand pop groups in the same way the Beatles did on their side of the world. As Judd's group, however, their music was a different animal. The cover of Mental Notes (painted by Judd) was a strange piece of work—seven band members with unnatural skin colors and ridiculous expressions and some various other individuals, the back cover extending this image into an absurd scene with a frankly terrifying photorealistic baby—that definitely fit the music therein. The art was also not merely affectation, as Split Enz' performances were ensconced in this aesthetic that was rooted in philosophy and literature. The record begins with the isolationist "Walking Down a Road," on which said aesthetic is apparent—a quality of introspection no doubt influenced by the troubled mind of Phil Judd, a then-undiagnosed sufferer of bipolar disorder (although Tim Finn sings it and shares writing credits). The mad "Under the Wheel" is surrounded in darkness; Judd sings of persecution and abjection, offering the conclusion, "death, glorious death/Is just another appointment to keep." The bright "Amy (Darling)" was meant for Judd's daughter, though it also seems to have some dualism or what-have-you (hopefully), as Finn also sings that "She's a serpentine, she's a naughty girl/Making the most of the rich man's world." Side one closer "So Long for Now" has an air of self-rationalization to its wavering words.

Side two, bookended by characteristically theatrical extended pieces, begins with the nightmarish "Stranger than Fiction," which spins a yarn that reads like the fantastical stories the name recalls. Requiem for the resigned "Time for a Change" contains one of Judd's best verses: "But like a parrot in a flaming tree/I know, it's pretty hard to see/I'm beginning to wonder if it's time for a change." The plodding, harmonic "Maybe," the album's only single, is unsurprisingly the most straightforward lovey pop song, though not to displeasing effect. The quaint and gratifying "Titus" tributes Gormenghast, which served as inspiration for much of the album's mood-feeling. The living crosscurrent "Spellbound" wistfully notes the phenomenon of personal stasis in an ever-changing world. Lighthearted vignette "Mental Notes" makes use of the run-out groove of the vinyl record to produce a repeating phrase ("Make a mental note") a la "A Day in the Life."

Split Enz as a collective was split on their opinion of their work on Mental Notes. All but two of the songs on the follow-up, aptly titled Second Thoughts (1976) were reworkings of songs from Mental Notes, the sessions from same, or earlier recordings. Time has proven that this was unnecessary, as Mental Notes continues to be a singularly compelling recording. Though they continued to make great, evolving pop music for years, Split Enz never quite duplicated the keen sense of purpose or consistent ingenuity of their debut.

XTC—English Settlement

XTC—English Settlement

English Settlement—Led by majority songwriter Andy Partridge's onslaught of dissonance, XTC did not so much get more abrasive with time as they did expand their sound through an abrasive stratosphere. Generally, this was done with the aid of synthesizers; Partridge was often able to take advantage of particular noises to establish motif. They were still by and large a guitar band, however, so for their fifth album, English Settlement, they tried something simpler: acoustic guitar. It was still a rock album, of course; the acoustic songs were hardly lilting or sensitive in tone, and other instruments characterize the album, such as Dave Gregory's nylon-string classical guitar and Partridge's experimenting with the anklung, alto saxophone, and on the side-three closer, the frog. Partridge later admitted freely that this direction was an attempt to move XTC into more of a studio life, which did eventually happen; the band performed only a handful of concerts following the release of the album before Partridge broke down on stage at the beginning of a set, rarely to perform again.

"We’d been doing it pretty much non-stop for nearly a decade and I was sick of it all: the crap food, the hours stuck on a bus with the same faces and the general soul-destroying tediousness of it. I got it into my head that if I wrote an album with a sound less geared towards touring then maybe there would be less pressure to tour." —Andy Partridge, A Watershed Moment: XTC's Andy Partridge On English Settlement, The Quietus, February 6th, 2002

English Settlement was the only double album of XTC's early career—later on, after Psionic Sunspot (1987), they always had such a dearth of material to record after long spells of nothing in between that they could have filled two LPs every time out—which interestingly led Virgin to pare it down to a single LP for markets outside the United Kingdom. XTC was never a big seller outside the U.K. until Skylarking (1986), so perhaps the label figured they would be even more daunting at the price of a double. It begins on all versions, uncharacteristically, with two Colin Moulding songs; the appropriately circuitous "Runaways" is some kind of comment on the consequences of domestic squabbling, while "Ball and Chain" is a protest song he wrote after Margaret Thatcher took over as Prime Minister and historical buildings in Swindon, Wiltshire, England (the band's hometown) were being demolished. The former is an interesting swirl of half-melodies, and the latter is "Getting Better" as a football chant, which has not aged well on that merit nor its topical obsolescence. Partridge's "Senses Working Overtime" is a celebration of the senses, for whatever that's worth; in an interview with Todd Bernhardt (Andy discusses Senses Working Overtime, December 11th, 2006, chalkhills.org), Partridge stated, "because I blundered into this sort of medieval thing by accident for the verse, I thought, 'I'll roll with it, I'll write kind of medieval words to it, and we'll go for the rhythm as a sort of medieval single little tight drum.'" The winding "Jason and the Argonauts" was written for the myth or the movie, and though pleasing could be accused of going on too long.

"No Thugs in Our House," one of Partridge's best here, is something like his answer to "Making Plans for Nigel," about a scoundrel of a young man whose parents are oblivious to his wrongdoing. The fast-motion-tiptoeing waltz "Yacht Dance" derides the upper class, while "All of a Sudden (It's Too Late)" reflects on the evanescence of life's fixtures rather than simply entropy. "Melt the Guns" is a rant on the United States and its stance on firearms, which is incisive but musically repetitive. "Leisure" notes the decline of human work ethic. "It's Nearly Africa" is a middling jazz-inflected experiment that misses most notably with its lack of relevance to anything; "Knuckle Down" is anti-racist.

Moulding's foreboding "Fly on the Wall" evokes Big Brother, with a coy bridge of "the bit that's in the middle doesn't count." "Down in the Cockpit" has some of Partridge's most devastatingly funny lyrics and is one of his most musical here; the title explains from where woman controls man, saying that they had "the brain to act like the weaker sex." The sprightly "English Roundabout" is Moulding's metaphor for the rat race, and the curious closer "Snowman" is perhaps Partridge's most explicit elegy to his eventually failed marriage—an eccentric cousin to Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart."

The overall quality of English Settlement is good, but it lacks a true standout. It has plenty of quality songs and a handful of middling ones, especially on the second and third sides, which played all at once is exhausting; there is no climax. Perhaps it's not meant to be played all at once, and in small doses, songs like "No Thugs in Our House" and "Down in the Cockpit" can be considered great workouts. But its scope, represented perfectly by the Uffington White Horse on the cover, was definitely a product of the self-indulgence allowed by their domestic success. It is also retroactively apparent that Andy Partridge's best days as a songwriter or composer were still ahead of him. Nonetheless, it is an intelligent, adventurous collection that's worth the time invested.

More XTC reviews by The Old Noise:

White Music (1978)
Go 2 (1978)
Drums and Wires (1979)
Black Sea (1980)
English Settlement (1982)
Mummer (1983)
The Big Express (1984)
25 O'Clock (1985)
Skylarking (1986)
Psonic Psunspot (1987)
Oranges & Lemons (1989)
Nonsuch (1992)
Apple Venus Volume 1 (1999)
Wasp Star (Apple Venus Volume 2) (2000)

Scott Walker—'Til the Band Comes In

Scott Walker—'Til the Band Comes In

'Til the Band Comes In—"What happened?" thought the Scott Walker faithful upon the release of his fifth album in December of 1970. The story of Scott Walker in the '70s was unfortunately not an uncommon one; plenty of artists before and since have been given ultimatums by their record companies: sell or die, and even the biggest stars can have short leashes. It took Walker only one failed product, the critically lauded Scott 4 (1969), for Philips to reel him in, and the still-young if well-traveled singer-composer apparently lacked the gumption to stand up to them. What followed was nearly a decade with no original material from Scott Walker, which was one of the biggest losses for pop music in history.

His swan song, as it could be called, was 'Til the Band Comes In. It's an album that has been unfairly lumped in with his infamous '70s tetralogy (The Moviegoer [1972], Any Day Now [1973], Stretch [1973], and We Had It All [1974]), and it is deserved to a small degree. It is, without a doubt, a step down from Scott 4 in every way. It is often prosaic, hardly introspective, and rarely intricate musically, with far less nuance. On the other hand, it captured Walker in a different light, with it having an air of being off-the-cuff like nothing else he recorded among his originals. The brevity of the material often makes it seem as though it was written as a minor observance, or a snapshot of life during wartime.

The "Prologue" sets the tone: a tenement building with a leaky faucet and screaming children, set across a backdrop of soggy strings from Walker's usual arranger, Wally Stott (Angela Morley). It segues into the 10/8 shuffle of "Little Things (That Keep Us Together)," which beat "What's Going On" to the punch by about a month, or was presented as a revved-up "A Day in the Life," if you will. Walker sings that how "A moving car/Stole a movie star" and "Jumbo jets can die/Killing 81" are the "Little things that keep us together," keeping us busy "while the war's going on." The slick "Joe" is the tale of a living, bygone relic who has run out of friends as he waits for death, while the singer muses that Joe has recognized the futility of resisting the course of the world in his old age. "Thanks for Chicago Mr. James" is a tryst between a "kept cowboy," according to Ady Semel's back cover notes, and his city-slicker lover.

"Long about Now," about an unfaithful lover, is sung by Esther Ofarim, Israeli singer of moderate international fame; her performance is nothing terribly special, but it does provide some variety in Walker's format and adds a needed female voice. On "Time Operator," the singer pines for same, and hasn't paid the water or electricity bills, but makes sure to "[make] the bill for the telephone." The song adds to the album's themes of loneliness, evoking a sympathetic reaction as on "Joe," though perhaps with a bit of embarrassment thrown in. "Jean the Machine" pokes fun at Communist paranoia, saying that Jean the burlesque stripper used the "boys in the band ... as part of her dirty Commie plan," according to the landlady. The appropriately curt "Cowbells Shakin'" casts invective at a former lover. Carnivalesque title cut "'Til the Band Comes In" either references the coming of an army, the nearness of death, or both intrinsically tied together. "The War Is Over (Sleepers)" ends the suite as if it is not just the war ending, but a story of people, suggesting that the conflict and its observers are inherently inseparable, at least thematically.

The rest of the record—covers of "Stormy" by Classics IV, "The Hills of Yesterday" from the box-office flop The Molly Maguires with Sean Connery, the First Edition's domestic hit "Reuben James," "What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?" from The Happy Ending, and Jimmie Rodgers' "It's Over"—became a large part of the reason why 'Til the Band Comes In came under fire. While they are a bit pointless, it is curious that these five innocuous covers are treated as so insidious when the beloved Scott (1967) and Scott 2 (1968) were littered with covers. The Jacques Brel covers were of course characteristic, as Brel was Walker's main artistic influence, but they were also curiously faithful and, at best, slightly inferior. Others, such as Mann/Weil's soppy, foppish "Angelica," which was also a contemporary tune, are no more or less offensive than the movie music here. Peter Knight handled the covers on 'Til the Band Comes In, and his arrangements are no less interesting than they were on the excellent Scott 4.

Even Walker's fourth album, Scott Walker Sings Songs from his T.V. Series, gets occasional accolades just for the performance factor, which helps present a key point: people liked Walker's covers when they were prepared to hear them, and not tacked on to the tail end of a record of originals. On the first three albums, the covers gave context to the originals, whereas on 'Til the Band Comes In, their placement gives the impression that they were afterthoughts. Perhaps they were, but his versions of "Stormy" and especially "It's Over" are great, and while the middle three are not anything to write home about, they are a small part of the whole.

'Til the Band Comes In is not Scott Walker's best album. It's probably not even in his top three, but based on the talent factor alone, it is a quality work. The production is less adventurous, and the arrangements are more spartan. Perhaps Wally Stott, who told David Toop that Walker "used to sit on the floor with a guitar and strum a few chords and expect me to go away and do Sibelius" (Scott Walker, Pitchfork, November 30, 2012) had grown tired of the collaboration and did not feel compelled to go all-out—indeed, the album was the last time the two would work together. The concept is interesting, and Walker's lyrics are at least thought-provoking, especially the keen "Little Things (That Keep Us Together)" and the heraldic "'Til the Band Comes In," and the humor and variety that pervades the rest of the suite is invigorating.

More Scott Walker reviews by The Old Noise:

Scott (1967)
Scott 2 (1968)
Scott 3 (1969)
Scott Walker Sings Songs from his T.V. Series (1969)
Scott 4 (1969)
'Til the Band Comes In (1970)
The Moviegoer (1972)
Any Day Now (1973)
Stretch (1973)
We Had It All (1974)
Climate of Hunter (1984)
Tilt (1995)
The Drift (2006)
Bish Bosch (2012)
Soused (2014)