XTC—Black Sea

XTC—Black Sea

Black Sea—Recorded under the exact circumstances as their previous album, Drums and Wires (1979), it would be a mistake to say XTC's Black Sea was simply more of the same. It is unmistakably similar in all its superficial details—same band, producer (Steve Lillywhite), studio (Virgin's The Town House), respective recording date, and length (within two minutes)—but more importantly, it also shares its intelligence and musicality. Andy Partridge's brash, satisfying rocker "Respectable Street," which caused a minor controversy over banal concerns (passing mentions of abortion and contraception), criticizes haughty suburbanites. The inspiration came from a nagging, noise-sensitive neighbor of his near Bowood Road in Swindon, where "several of the houses had this very English thing: a caravan—a trailer—in the front garden. And I thought, 'I've never seen those move! They must be like status symbols, telling people 'We could go away, if we choose to'" (Andy discusses "Respectable Street," Todd Bernhardt, February 26, 2007). He explained that much of his material was written in this house during a break from touring the previous album, and despite the suggestion that Black Sea was hurried, the results were better than when Go 2 (1978) was churned out in the wake of White Music (1978).

Colin Moulding's "Generals and Majors," the lead single, is an amusing take on Oh, What a Lovely War! epitomizing thusly: "Generals and majors always/Seem so unhappy unless they've got a war." "Living through Another Cuba," one of Partridge's earliest rants, is a grower, at first sounding repetitive, but features great guitar work; he details the paranoia of living in the U.K. between Reagan's United States and Brezhnev's Soviet Union ("We're the bulldog on the fence/While others play their tennis overhead"). The bouncy "Love at First Sight," which Moulding introduces on BBC Radio 1 Live in Concert as being "about debauchery and things like that," pokes fun at promiscuous young people, complete with choruses of "duh." "Rocket from a Bottle" is Partridge's token earnest boyish-infatuation tune, and the swaying "No Language in Our Lungs" laments failures in communication (best line: "I would have made this instrumental/But the words got in the way").

The lumbering "Towers of London" ("about some masonry"), making use of found percussion, sentimentalizes London. "Paper and Iron (Notes and Coins)" attempts to balance the Christian ideal of simple living with the modern necessity of security in wealth. "Burning with Optimism's Flames" ("our rewrite of 'Joy to the World'") is a fun, jumping album cut, if nonsensical. "Sgt. Rock (Is Going to Help Me)," based around the comic book character (the first of three XTC DC Comics-inspired songs, followed by "That's Really Super, Supergirl" and "Brainiac's Daughter"), is a slightly amusing if ultimately contrived set of lyrics. The excellent, halfway-ironic heavy metal closer, "Travels in Nihilon," named after the book, interprets the title more literally.

Black Sea sometimes feels like the most perfunctory of XTC's early albums. It also features some of their least involved arrangements, but on the other hand, that makes it all the more bombastic. It's more confident than Drums and Wires, a bit smarter, and generally catchier, which are all things that should come from a band as they evolve.

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)

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)

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)

XTC—Mummer

XTC—Mummer

Mummer—The second phase of XTC's career—arguably their defining one—came about due to something almost unheard of in the world of popular music: stage fright. They had been playing for around ten years before Andy Partridge suddenly broke down on stage in 1982, the tipping point being withdrawal from Valium that had been helping him deal with the stress of life in a touring band (Partridge says via Twitter that memory loss and limb seizures were worse aspects of his withdrawal). These facts are well-ingrained into the band's legend, and the incident helped to usher in a new era with a different approach.

English Settlement (1982), though eclectic, was still very much the work of a rock band, with Terry Chambers' drums still mixed in front and generally spare arrangements. Mummer would be the last album to feature him, and only on the first two songs at that; a founding member of the band, Chambers found himself in a tough spot with many of the band's new compositions not being conducive to his straightforward style of drumming. Peter Phipps from Gary Glitter's band played on the other eight songs, as he would on the following album, The Big Express (1984). Ironically, the sounds that open the album on "Beating of Hearts" are Chambers' drums, with Partridge's message summed up by the line, "For a heart without love is a song with no words/And a tune to which no one is listening." Bassist Colin Moulding's scathing "Wonderland" juxtaposes its sugar-sweet melody and synthesized beats with a criticism of someone who is "caught in [their] superficial, non-existent, fairy story/Wonderland." Partridge opined in the notes to Coat of Many Cupboards, "I think this is one of Colin's more beautiful melodies, and so complete, that my only suggestion to help it on its way, was the addition of tropical bird sounds for the finished article."

The idyllic "Love on a Farmboy's Wages," which by some accounts was the straw that broke the camel's back for Chambers due to its stranger rhythm (Partridge tweeted the real reason was "an emotional ultimatum by his new wife"), may be one of Partridge's veiled references to life as a professional musician ("People think that I'm no good/Painting pictures, carving wood ... But the only job I do well is here on the farm ... And it's breaking my back"). The catchy and hilarious "Great Fire" ("I'm animal and panicking") continues Partridge's ongoing fascination with avian creatures as he imitates a bird's cries with the saxophone. Moulding balances out Partridge's clumsy-love with "Deliver Us from the Elements," which is something like a green or naturalist anthem and fits well with Moulding's general political aesthetic or is perhaps reminiscent of, say, The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society.

Partridge's ghoulish "Human Alchemy" is one of his great forgotten songs, which ostensibly looks back on the slavery imposed on native Africans by whites, but might also be a coy reference to record companies' exploitation of black hitmakers ("To turn their skins of black into the skins of brightest gold," or that is to say, a gold record). The simpler "Ladybird" sounds like a song about a fleeting romance that could never be, though it predates Partridge's infamous, up-and-down relationship with Erica Wexler (later the subject of "Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her, Kiss Her" from The Big Express and "Another Satellite" from Skylarking [1986]). The lamentful yet pejorative "In Loving Memory of a Name" is one of Moulding's smartest songs, striking at the banality of surrendering propriety to the military ("Covered in moss/You may have died for your country/Forgotten not lost/You're laid to rest where you're wanted"), ultimately being reduced to "a name," and the indoctrination associated with Christian society ("The sermons attended when you were young/Still echo round these churchyard walls"). "Me and the Wind" is Partridge's token end-of-toxic-relationship song; in the notes for Fuzzy Warbles Volume 5, he noted that "Lots of you seem to think that this song is about Terry Chambers leaving XTC. I can see your logic. Words like ‘snare,' ‘stool,' ‘imprisoned in your drumbeat’ ... Now you've got me doubting my own intentions." "Funk Pop a Roll" is an arch harangue of the record business, which he says is "a hammer to keep/You pegs in your holes" and "Big money selling you stuff that you really do not need," while admitting to the grave notion that he's "already been poisoned by this industry."

A common criticism of Mummer is that its songs are obscure, which is true—it's easy to miss the irony of songs like "Wonderland" and "Funk Pop a Roll" on a casual listen—but that's also the point. A mummer is a person in disguise who puts on a play with dualistic themes; the band can be seen wearing the traditional shredded-paper costumes in the album's inner sleeve. Mummer is a rich album from start to finish, with the exception of some overcooked Partridge moments on side B, but that's par for the course, and never before it did XTC so concisely and beautifully achieve their vision.

XTC—Skylarking

XTC—Skylarking, seen here with its official (but not original) artwork.

Skylarking—Rare is the album that hooks you in less than ten seconds. As the opener “Summer's Cauldron” creeps into audibility, the listener is instantly filled with sonic imagery perfectly encapsulated by the song's title. Its lyrics, washed with psychedelia but without the drug-addled anemia, perfectly paint a portrait of a summer's afternoon, perhaps too hot to handle but profound in its allure. It sets the tone for the album: gentle, flowing wordplay set to pleasing, layered music that only ventures from the tried-and-true when it's got something to say. It has understandably drawn comparisons in its time to the best pop records of the 1960s, sometimes bordering on accusatory in their notions of derivation. While Skylarking does owe a certain debt to Pet Sounds, Smiley Smile and the Beatles’ ‘65-’67 run (Rubber Soul, Revolver, and Sgt. Pepper), it builds on those works, the earlier XTC canon, and the evolving nature of the studio to make a seminal work.

Skylarking (1986) ostensibly follows The Big Express (1984), but it is better put in context between the band’s two Dukes of Stratosphear works, 25 O’Clock (1985) and Psionic Sunspot (1987). The former, oft-forgotten alongside other extracurricular band activities (think Foxboro Hot Tubs or Jamming with Edward!), is a more literal homage to the original wave of psychedelic rock, bordering on parody at times but delivered with an ultimately earnest love for the music and lyrical conventions of the time. XTC was never very overt with its displays of affection until that point, but neither 25 O’Clock nor Skylarking should come as a huge surprise from the band that bore English Settlement (1982) and especially Mummer (1983).
“Summer’s Cauldron” (written by de facto leader Andy Partridge) segues effortlessly into “Grass,” a then-high both musically and lyrically for bassist Colin Moulding. It can be considered a sequel of sorts to the more lilting Mummer songs, such as the pixie pop of “Wonderland” (Moulding) or the bardsong “Love on a Farmboy’s Wages” (Partridge), but what really sets “Grass” apart is the modest guitar lines and producer Todd Rundgren’s keyboard and orchestral arrangements, which perfectly underscore Moulding’s inspired melody and simple yet evocative lyrics.

The song is quickly countered by Moulding’s shimmering “The Meeting Place,” every part the equal of “Grass,” but with the album’s first thematic twists, however understated. The musical tones are still optimistic, but light percussion from Rundgren sideman Prairie Prince and the album’s first taste of dissent now affect the songcraft; a tale of clandestine meetings set the album’s opening two songs in relief. These trends continue on the discordant “That’s Really Super, Supergirl,” the album’s first real masterpiece. Partridge’s scathing dirge sees the band firing on all cylinders; the frontman’s masterfully-sung lyrics offer a comic-book parable of a disintegrating relationship, while Moulding’s bass lines kick into gear for the first time on the album to go along a memorable guitar solo and Rundgren’s excellent synth backing track.

These highs in performance continue on the mini-suite “Ballet for a Rainy Day/1000 Umbrellas.” The jangling guitars and syncopated rhythms of “Ballet” take a back seat to Partridge’s most adventurous wordplay before giving way to the string-heavy “1000 Umbrellas,” which will stand the test of time as one of his most impressive lyrical works (“the jesters will creep in to smack down the newly-crowned monarch of Misery;” “just when I thought that my vista was golden in hue/one thousand umbrellas opened to spoil the view”). The music continues to let loose on the expressive “Season Cycle,” the most loose and free pop piece on the album’s first side, before concluding with “Earn Enough for Us,” one of four singles, which does not fit well with the rest of side A but is nonetheless noteworthy in its craft.

The B side of the LP is expectedly more adventurous and less cohesive than side A, but is equally thoughtful and often reaches the highs established on the A side’s best compositions. “Big Day” is a cautionary tale from Moulding about the expectations of marriage set to minor-key progressions and spacy instrumentation that forecasts Partridge’s more dissonant “Another Satellite,” replete with Gregory’s wandering Chamberlin strokes. “Mermaid Smiled,” loosely connected to the songs that follow via its aquatic imagery, is about the closest the album gets to a weak song: a mildly thought-provoking lyric over uninspired guitar-playing and instrumentation. “The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul” does it better; Partridge’s lyrics are more focused and Rundgren’s horn arrangement turns an otherwise run-of-the-mill instrumental track into something more.

Moulding closes out the album proper with a pair of comparatively subdued pieces. “Dying” is a short vignette that flirts with the morbid in its depiction of a death scene with a sense of regret; “Sacrificial Bonfire,” with its authentic recording of a bonfire burning, is a deceptively strong song that ends the album on a note of change, echoing Moulding’s Mummer contributions in many ways, and bookmarks a record that ends and nearly begins with his voice.

Also of particular note is Partridge’s iconic “Dear God,” which began life as a non-album track, but has been appended to Skylarking on all pressings after the first. It ends the album on one release and replaces “Mermaid Smiled” or precedes “Dying” on others. It is possibly the group’s most well-known song, but is much more pointed than the rest of Skylarking despite being recorded at the same time. Its well-constructed but controversial lyrics mock and dispute the existence of God over minor-key arpeggios, and is a welcome addition at least musically if one does not care for its sentiments.

Skylarking is the best album from a band that had already put out a good deal of exceptional music. It is also an all-time great in the field of pop-rock, not having been topped since its release and rivalling or exceeding the classics that inspired it. It comes recommended to anyone with at least a passing interest in the relevant genres and is a glowing accomplishment for all involved in its recording.