Showing posts with label 1982. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1982. Show all posts

Sunday, January 28, 2024

Human Highway (1982)

It’s rare that I’m compelled to write a review because I consumed media that is so bad that I feel the urge to warn other people to stay away. (The only other time I can think of was after buying John Lennon’s Walls and Bridges in a fit of naïve, overzealous, completionist fandom.) As a great fan of Neil Young and at least a modest fan of Devo, it’s hard not to be curious about Human Highway, a film financed, cowritten, and codirected by the former and featuring the acting and music of both. Allow me to tell you now not to watch this movie. Wikipedia covers the “plot” and background details well enough, so let me summarize what this film features:
  • Bad acting from everyone involved
  • Bad writing, no character development, and a flimsy excuse for a plot
  • Blatant racism, including both Young and Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh (as Booji Boy) dropping a slur
  • Casual sexism
  • Romanticization of car culture despite the vague environmentalist/anti-nuclear theme
  • Nuclear apocalypse
  • A senseless and gross milk bath
  • Less focus on music than you might hope for
  • Only one musical collaboration between Young and Devo
It is this last point that provides any reason to consider preserving any part of this film. The infamous early jam version of “Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)” with Booji Boy on lead vocals (recorded in 1978 before the officially released Crazy Horse version on Rust Never Sleeps (1979)) is bizarre and wonderful. But you can find that online without having to endure the rest. I suppose there’s also Devo’s cover of “It Takes a Worried Man”, but you can find that on their delightful The Complete Truth About Devolution (1993) anyway. The movie also features parts of most of the synthesizer songs from Young’s excellent and idiosyncratic Trans (1982), which might’ve been novel for the very few people who caught the movie before the album was released, but that’s irrelevant today. (And yes, I loved Trans long before I understood myself to be trans!)

Young was clearly fascinated by the phrase “human highway”, as evidenced by recording and performing myriad versions of the song over the years, recording an unfinished album under the same name with CSN in the 70s, and ultimately making this film. Of everything he created that used the phrase, this movie is the worst by a wide margin.

I have some concern that by bringing attention to this movie, I may inspire someone to watch it. Please do not make this mistake. It is not even campy in a so-bad-it’s-good sense. It’s just bad. It makes me think less of Young. He was old enough to know better.

Scores:
Human Highway: D-
Young and Devo’s “Hey Hey, My My”: A
Trans: A-
The entirely unrelated Neil Young song “Human Highway” from Comes a Time: A
Either of the CSNY versions of “Human Highway” from Archives II (2020), originally recorded in 1973 and 1976: A+

Thursday, December 24, 2020

Cocteau Twins - The 4AD 80s albums

A couple weeks ago, I reviewed Lullabies to Violaine, Volume 1, a collection of all the Cocteau Twins’ EPs and singles on 4AD in the 80s. Now I’d like to cover the albums from the same period. The first few mirror the EPs and singles quite closely, but starting in 1986, they begin to diverge. The albums tend to be more focused in specific themes and sounds, and as such, they are a bit less wildly exciting, but still they represent thoroughly solid listening experiences in their longer forms.


Garlands was the first ever Cocteau Twins release in September 1982. It’s dark, post-punk, and gothic, and it’s the only album with bassist Will Heggie. The combination of heavy chorus bass riffs, pointed and thickly distorted lead guitar lines, heavy drum machine reverb, and lots of stuttered vocals makes for a rather harsh sound. It sounds strained and raw, and it doesn’t really vary very widely. I like the creative use of guitar delay, though, and the album sort of presages their later exploration, but it’s much more limited in scope.


Head Over Heels (released on Halloween 1983) is still dark and gothy, but it’s somewhat more exploratory. Most of the instrumentation and tone is similar to prior recordings, but with the addition of some keyboards and acoustic guitars. It was recorded as a duo after Heggie left, but there is still bass, presumably recorded by Robin Guthrie. The production is slightly richer and more vibrant. It’s right on the line of the original gothy sound and something new. “Sugar Hiccup” is of course excellent, but it sticks out a bit. (It fits on Sunburst and Snowblind a bit better.) “In the Gold Dust Rush” is also notably a step forward, and “Multifoiled” is surprisingly playful.


By the time Treasure was released in November 1984, Cocteau Twins had hit their stride. Treasure picks up about where The Spangle Maker EP left off, and even if it can’t quite match that level of consistency, it’s their first really good album. It’s also their first album with bassist Simon Raymonde. It finally shows them opening up and really coming into their own; it’s full of great guitar and keyboard sounds, and Elizabeth Fraser really started exploring the full power of her voice. Almost every song has something cool and creative going for it. “Ivo” is perhaps the most remarkable of the lot, and it’s such an awesome opening track. It starts all dark and spooky like their previous work, but then suddenly tumbles into something grand, full, and bombastic. That’s followed up with “Lorelei”, another solid song that starts right off with insistent guitar and bells, hearkening the coming of majestic new heights. It feels so lush, and Fraser’s voice sounds full of hushed anticipation. The album gets a bit weirder starting with “Beatrix”, and a few songs like “Cicely” and “Otterley” are just a bit too dark and dull. But right at the end of album closer “Domino”, they pull a nice trick and refresh themselves anew.


After a streak of incredible EPs, the band changed gears for Victorialand, released in April 1986. As Raymonde was busy with This Mortal Coil, it was recorded again as a duo. This time, though, there’s hardly any bass or even drums at all, but there is some saxophone from Richard Thomas of Dif Juz. Otherwise, it’s mostly just acoustic or shimmering electric guitar and vocals. The result is sparse and open but still pretty, which makes for a very chill and relaxing listen. Opener “Lazy Calm” takes some time to get going, but it expands beautifully. “Fluffy Tufts” and “Little Spacey” are quite pleasant, too. Just a few tracks like “Throughout the Dark Months of April and May” and “The Thinner the Air” are more overcast. The album is a bit short and feels a bit slight, especially after how much they crammed into each of the preceding releases. It feels like a distinct break from everything they’d done before, but it wouldn’t be the last time they’d explore these elements.


Right after the stunning Love’s Easy Tears EP came The Moon and the Melodies in November 1986. With Raymonde back in the fold, this album was also a collaboration with ambient composer Harold Budd. (Strangely it was credited to each of the four contributors as individuals.) Richard Thomas turns up again on sax, too. The result is not at all like Love’s Easy Tears; it’s much closer to Victorialand, but with the notable addition of particularly expressive piano. Most of the album is open, broadly ambient, and instrumental. “Memory Gongs” represents the best of that bunch; it’s just a cool atmosphere, like walking on a frozen pond in the woods, with piano and little synth noises dripping down on the icy splendor. The rest of the album (“Sea, Swallow Me”, “Eyes Are Mosaics”, “She Will Destroy You”) is like normal Cocteaus but chiller, lighter, and more shimmery, but still further on the ambient spectrum than usual. The whole concept feels like a risk, and even if it isn’t stellar across the board, it’s still quite good. “Sea, Swallow Me” is great by any standard. Fraser’s vocals are big and dramatic, and the music swells and shines right in step. The album is not as weird or dark or even as mysterious as their prior work, but the expansiveness and grandiosity can still be found here and there. The latter half of the album is maybe a bit too sparse, but “Ooze Out and Away, Onehow” finally turns it up right before the end.


Cocteau Twins finally took some time off at that point. They stopped releasing EPs for the next seven years, and they took a break from touring as well. Their next release was Blue Bell Knoll in September 1988. If this was the condensed best of two years of work, it shows. It’s refined, complex, and exciting, but also bright, beautiful, and almost entirely upbeat. It would seem the band had access to a modest budget, and they made great use of it. It’s not quite as varied and dynamic as Treasure or their best EPs, but it is a return to the forms of those releases. “Blue Bell Knoll” starts the album off on a high note, entrancing the listener with the rolling harpsichord sound. “Carolyn’s Fingers” is one of their all-time best. The heights of Fraser’s voice are wondrous and the music is gorgeous. “For Phoebe Still a Baby” brings the energy down a notch, but it’s still just as pretty. “A Kissed Out Red Floatboat” might be their first sequencer-driven song, and it presages the full, soft beauty of Heaven or Las Vegas. I love the weird spacey sounds, too. The album might rely on a few tried and true formulas (acoustic guitar strums and delay-laden electric arpeggios), but there’s nothing wrong with that when the results are this good.


Heaven or Las Vegas, released in September 1990, is the peak of Cocteau Twins. It’s dream pop at its finest. It’s full, stunning, and luscious, with a huge sound, excellent production, and an obviously good budget. It’s the best they’d ever do in the album format. The band was starting to fracture, and this was their last album for 4AD, but you can hardly tell. It’s their most accessible, mainstream, and pop-oriented work, yet doesn’t compromise their vision, scope, or grandeur. It’s also their dance-friendliest music. Every song has something of a driving pulse laying the groundwork for the ethereal layers. It’s also notable for lyrics that started to move back into decipherable territory. The influence of a newborn baby is maybe even discernible. “Cherry-Coloured Funk” is a great title, even if I wouldn’t call it funk, but the “cherry-coloured” part seems to fit. “Fifty-Fifty Clown” and “Road, River and Rail” are slightly cloudier and uncertain, but still lovely. “Heaven or Las Vegas” is one of their best, another one of their songs that just keeps pouring down incredible sounds and vocal lines. “Fotzepolitic” and “Wolf in the Breast” manage similar feats without getting repetitive. Closer “Frou-Frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires” starts slow and haunting with the characteristic feedback wails, but then widens into a beautiful chiming chorus. This is the band at the peak of their talents, and unfortunately they’d never quite reach them again.

In their streak of albums for 4AD, Cocteau Twins managed to consistently expand their range, and almost every album was an improvement over the last. It must’ve been magical to see where they’d go next. They ended up in a very different place than where they began, and it’s fascinating to see the progression. It’s also a pleasure to hear how the albums and EPs fit together and show different sides of the band. Heaven or Las Vegas might be rightfully heralded as a masterpiece, but there’s plenty of other good music to be found here as well.

Scores:
Garlands: C
Head Over Heels: C+
Treasure: B+
Victorialand: B-
The Moon and the Melodies: B
Blue Bell Knoll: A-
Heaven or Las Vegas: A+

Saturday, December 12, 2020

Cocteau Twins - Lullabies to Violaine, Volume 1 (2005)

Discovering Cocteau Twins is like finding a massive treasure chest that’s barely hidden in the woods, and there’s always more there. I’ve still never found another band that quite matches their bizarre beauty and raw emotive force (and I’ve tried!). The combination of Elizabeth Fraser’s expressive voice and unusual delivery with Robin Guthrie and Simon Raymonde’s otherworldly instrumentation is magical. The fact that they consistently relied on drum machines takes nothing away from the total wonder of their sound. It took me years to fully appreciate them, but they’ve become one of my absolute favorites.


Cocteau Twins came from an era where EPs were an important format, and they made full use of them. In fact, much of their best music can only be found on them. Thankfully, in 2005 they released Lullabies to Violaine, a collection of all of their EPs and singles spread over four CDs. The first volume covers the 80s, which begins with their early recordings with founding bassist Will Heggie and continues through their prime years up to the release of their best album, Heaven or Las Vegas (1990). In some ways, these two discs are like a greatest hits compilation. They roughly follow the progression of the albums, but that breaks down around 1986. Here I will review this first volume and the EPs it contains.


Lullabies was the band’s first EP, released just after their debut album Garlands in October 1982. Like the album, the EP is very gothy and post-punk and sounds quite indebted to Siouxsie & the Banshees or The Cure from the same era. The music is aggressive and energetic, but also simpler than what would follow. Heggie’s heavily chorused bass and Guthrie’s spidery guitar form the basis for Fraser to exorcise her demons over. Her lyrics are mostly understandable, but sound dark and esoteric. It’s not the most engaging or comforting listen. “Feathers-Oars-Blades” is a strong and upbeat opener, but the rest doesn’t match it.


Peppermint Pig came in March 1983 and continued the same thread as the first two releases. It was the last release with Heggie but their first to feature prominent keyboards. Otherwise it isn’t particularly compelling, and it sounds flatter and less well-developed than their earlier and later recordings. There’s more space, but in an unwelcome, off-putting way. All three tracks are very similar. The rare involvement of an outside producer (Alan Rankine) is telling and was obviously a mistake. The compilation has the edited 7" version of the title track, but the 12" just features a longer intro with more keyboards and distorted guitar, so not much is missing.


Sunburst and Snowblind, released in November 1983, followed right after Head over Heels and is something of an extension of it. They both share “Sugar Hiccup”, the first truly awesome Cocteau Twins song. Sunburst is a huge leap over their previous work, and it’s even better than Head over Heels. They finally started to find their stride despite (or perhaps because of?) the loss of Heggie. Fraser’s vocals became more oblique and more about mood and texture than specific words. Guthrie explored more keyboards and a more ethereal, brighter, and more expansive sound removed from their gothy roots. From this point on, the meaning of their songs became less about the content of the lyrics and more about the emotions that sweep you along with the music. “Sugar Hiccup” isn’t exactly upbeat, but it’s grand and majestic. The choral sound at the end is just lovely. “From the Flagstones” is slower but still comes across as big and dramatic, like walking along the ramparts of a castle. It too features the comforting choral synths, but brings back the heavy chorus on the bass. “Hithero” and “Because of Whirl-Jack” are both driving but tense, and they aren’t quite at the same level. They seem caught between the old and new styles.


The Spangle Maker from April 1984 was the band’s first release with Simon Raymonde on bass. It’s a resounding success and all three tracks are great. “The Spangle Maker” features impressive feedback squalls over what sounds like a huge open landscape. It’s like a slowly brewing storm with strong winds in a desert canyon. Then it finally bursts into a huge final section with choral effects and big keyboards. “Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops” is more immediate and strident from the start. It’s full of great layered vocal parts, delightful little synth bells, and lots of little guitar effect touches. It’s pure dream pop bliss, and it’s no surprise that it was their biggest single. The compilation features a unique mix, but it’s the best version. The 7" version is similar but shorter, and although the 12" version starts with an extra twinkly section, the mix is less full and not quite as good. “Pepper-Tree” is the band’s first truly bizarre track. Fraser’s vocals are impressively strange; she sounds like an enchanted woodland fairy. The song is like wandering through a ghostly rainforest cave. It’s spooky, mysterious, and fairly removed from pop music, but the experimentation and atmosphere pay off.


1985 was Cocteau Twins’ first year without an album, but they still managed to release three EPs, all of which reveal the band at the height of their powers. Aikea-Guinea came first in March, and it’s practically perfect from start to finish. The title track is again bright, grand, otherworldly, uplifting, and full of layers and beautiful but totally incomprehensible spirals of vocals. It sounds like brilliant birds in flight in the bright springtime sun. The compilation version is a unique mix, but the only difference from the original is that it jumps in cold instead of fading in. “Kookaburra” is similar and very upbeat, but with more shadowy sections. It sounds like a rushing horseride through the fields and then into the woods. The keyboards in particular remind me of The Cure from the same era. “Quisquose” starts darker, with anguished vocals and colossal echo on the keyboard parts, but then it shifts into a brighter section with superb crystalline guitar delay. It’s like a battle between light and darkness or an intense internal conflict. “Rococo” starts minimal, hesitant, distant, and somewhat peaceful, like the calm before a storm or a battle, then breaks into a much bigger, louder, heavier, aggressive section. It’s deceptive, but the sense of space is excellent. It’s also a rare instrumental.


Tiny Dynamine came next in November 1985. It’s full of fantastic sounds and effectively conveyed emotions without relying on lexical content, even if it doesn’t quite match the mind-blowing excitement of the previous two EPs. “Pink Orange Red” starts slow, spacey, and minimal and then expands beautifully with a hint of darkness and regret, but of course the lyrics are the names of butterflies or something. It’s full of towers of delayed guitar and sounds like the twists and turns of some ancient epic. “Ribbed and Veined”, another lush instrumental, has more of the great crystalline dripping guitar parts. It sounds like a rainforest atmosphere, and perhaps there’s a temple or some forgotten structure hidden within where the electronic piano sound comes in. “Plain Tiger” isn’t quite as standout but still has an intriguing blend of light and dark atmospheres. The highlight is the great vocal parts. The mood is conflicted: the first part is tense, the second is anguished, and it’s not until the end that it switches nicely into a more open (and rare) guitar pseudo-solo. It feels like the coming of a prophet or a good omen. “Sultitan Itan” is a rarer example of starting bright and then getting darker; it starts simple and pretty, full of soft bass and guitars, but switches to more intense, dramatic sections.


Echoes in a Shallow Bay, recorded at the same time as Tiny Dynamine and released just a couple weeks after it, is more experimental, less pop, and overall somewhat darker. It’s not as purely awe-inspiring, but it’s still good. “Great Spangled Fritillary” starts weird and uncomfortable, like some mysterious, dark, and cloudy alien planet. It picks up a bit, as if you’ve encountered a strange artifact or an unexpected inhabitant, and it’s full of intriguing sounds. “Melonella” is a dramatic recital of moth names, which is amusingly aggressive and intense for such absurd lyrics! It jumps right in, like preparations or ritual chanting before a battle or escape. Other parts calm down a bit, as if life returns to normal and there is space to find some beauty in the cracks. “Pale Clouded White” is another faster-paced but somewhat darker song. It has a full sound with distant guitar squalls, pounding keyboards and drums, and acoustic guitar strums and choral synth in the choruses. It sounds like warning sirens and high alert, again like running hastily from some threat. “Eggs and Their Shells” is also full of strange and awesome sounds, like wind rushing by towering buildings shining in the sun in a vast, lonesome expanse. It’s not quite as dramatic, though, and doesn’t move like most of the others.


Love’s Easy Tears, from October 1986, is a distinct break between two more subdued and almost ambient albums (Victorialand and The Moon and the Melodies with Harold Budd). It’s closer to Treasure or especially Blue Bell Knoll. They apparently saved all the dramatic, radiant, and upbeat songs that they had for this EP, and the result is flawless. The title track, beautiful and dramatic, is one of their absolute best. Incredible vocals and lush guitars just keep raining down. “Those Eyes, That Mouth” is also fairly upbeat and shimmering, but a bit more driving. It has less variation, but pulses prettily and brightly with chiming guitars and some strange seagull effects. “Sigh’s Smell of Farewell” is mellower and softer, again with great vocal layers. It’s subtler and less overwhelming but still shimmering and clear, and it expands into something bigger halfway through with nice phasing and a grand expanse. “Orange Appled” might be my favorite of them all. It starts strident and bold with great keyboards and expands with bells and vocal layers. It reminds me of a shining palatial metropolis. The bridge switches into an awesome alternate swirling mode, like riding a train through a tunnel in a mountain.


From then on, the frequency of releases took a sharp downturn. The last release on the compilation is the "Iceblink Luck" single from August 1990. The title track is a slightly edited version of the track from the supreme Heaven or Las Vegas. It’s poppy and accessible, and the words are even mostly understandable as was common for that phase. It has the best production values of their career and sounds incredibly detailed. “Mizake the Mizan” is similarly well-produced but is less dramatic and upbeat. It’s conspicuously inconspicuous. “Watchlar” is an unusually electronic track, but it also just kind of carries on without ever really picking up. The single itself is great but the b-sides aren’t really notable; it’s their first release with tracks that feel like just b-sides.

That’s the end of the compilation; unfortunately it starts and ends on lesser notes, but the jungles within are where the real treasure is. However, there were just a few additional tracks from the era that never made it to an album or an EP, and most of them were collected on an extra disc of the Cocteau Twins Singles Collection from 1991. Unfortunately, all four of the tracks on it are rather inessential. “Dials”, the b-side of the "Heaven or Las Vegas" single, and “The High Monkey-Monk”, from a Melody Maker compilation in 1990, both feature great production, but are fairly sparse and open. They sound like second-rate b-sides. “Crushed”, from the Lonely Is an Eyesore compilation in 1987, fits in with Love’s Easy Tears or Blue Bell Knoll, but doesn’t quite match either. It’s the best of the bonus disc, but merely a chill, pleasant stroll. The instrumental version of “Oomingmak” is airy and pretty but offers nothing over the original from Victorialand.

The last stray track is “Millimillenary”, originally from the NME Department of Enjoyment cassette in 1984, but also available on The Pink Opaque best-of in 1986. It’s as strong as the best of Treasure or maybe even The Spangle Maker. It’s less experimental and unusually straightforward and classic pop oriented in its arrangement and structure, but it completely works. It also reminds me of contemporaneous output from The Cure.

Cocteau Twins released some incredible albums in their day, but their run of EPs from Sunburst and Snowblind through Love’s Easy Tears gives even Heaven or Las Vegas a run for its money. This collection is unbeatable in terms of the variety of sounds, mood, and atmospheres. After going on hiatus for a couple years after that album and the ground covered by this compilation, they returned to release another series of EPs and singles (compiled on the second volume of Lullabies to Violaine) alongside two more albums (all compiled on the Treasure Hiding compilation), but they never again quite reached these heights. At least we have this wonderful collection that nicely assembles their finest glories.

Scores:
Lullabies to Violaine, Volume 1: A
Lullabies EP: B-
Peppermint Pig EP: C-
Sunburst and Snowblind EP: B+
The Spangle Maker EP: A+
Aikea-Guinea EP: A+
Tiny Dynamine EP: A-
Echoes in a Shallow Bay EP: B
Love’s Easy Tears EP: A+
"Iceblink Luck" single: B-
Cocteau Twins Singles Collection Disc 10: C
“Millimillenary”: A-

Sunday, March 29, 2020

A Few Thoughts on The Sound

I first encountered The Sound when I visited Drake Records in Köln just about ten years ago. The gracious owner offered my friend and I a drink and put on Jeopardy after he saw me browsing the New Wave section. I loved it, but for some reason ended up buying Wolfgang Riechmann’s Wunderbar instead. Just a few years later, Edsel Records released two box sets containing almost the entire recorded discography of the band, and I devoured both with glee. I’ve been meaning to write an article about the band and these reissues ever since. Now that I’m stuck inside during a pandemic, what better time to finally do it?

The roots of The Sound lie in The Outsiders, a (sorta) punk band fronted by Adrian Borland. After two albums and EP that already showed the band pushing on the boundaries of punk and independent record production, the band started to splinter. In the midst of a substantial lineup change, the band ended up changing their name to The Sound while recording a demo album that bridged the gap from The Outsiders to the eventual debut album of The Sound. This demo album, recorded in mid-1979, eventually saw release in 1999 as Propaganda. It’s still somewhat punky, but Bi Marshall’s clarinet and saxophone show the band grasping beyond the basic forms. Most of the lyrics are fairly basic critiques of British society and suburban life (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), but a few are particularly noteworthy, such as the staunchly anticapitalist “Cost of Living” and the prescient “Music Business”. Three songs would later be rerecorded for Jeopardy and one for the Physical World EP. The album is fairly raw, and although some critics (and members of the band) consider it the band’s “real” debut and even their strongest album, I think it lacks the sophistication, finesse, and subtlety of their best work. It’s still cool to hear them in transition, though, and apparently some of the tracks were recorded with Outsiders member and later lyrical contributor Adrian Janes on drums before he left for university.

After a brief diversion with the experimental Flesh As Property EP by Second Layer (featuring just Borland and bassist Graham Bailey), the first proper Sound release was the Physical World EP in late 1979. While the title track and “Coldbeat” (later rereleased as the 12" b-side of “Sense of Purpose” in 1981) are in the same vein as Propaganda but with slightly better production, the final track, “Unwritten Law”, already shows the band moving in a deeper, darker, and more dramatic direction. This early version is absent from the recent reissue box sets, and although it isn’t as strong as the rerecording on Jeopardy or any of the live versions, it’s still a thrill to hear a primitive version based more around guitars than the brooding keyboards that would define all later versions.

[The Physical World EP.]

The Sound then signed to Korova, best known as the home to Echo & the Bunnymen. The Sound would be forever damned to follow in their footsteps and live in their shadow, although the frequent comparisons were not entirely unfounded. At any rate, their debut album and first release on Korova was Jeopardy in 1980. It’s amazing to hear the quick leap they made from everything they made before then. Despite the hasty sessions and miniscule budget, the result is stunning. Although the production is certainly not at the level of the Bunnymen’s Crocodiles (which apparently consumed all of Korova’s budget, leaving The Sound in the lurch), the immediate energy of it plays to the band’s strengths. The album is raw and still just a touch punky, yet comes across sophisticated and fully formed. “Hour of Need” and the new version of “Unwritten Law” benefit from noticeably more nuanced production. Marshall’s icy keyboards shine, as do Bailey’s throbbing post-punk bass and Michael Dudley’s propulsive drumming. Other highlights are “Missiles”, an unapologetic critique of the military-industrial complex, and “I Can’t Escape Myself”, an incisive assessment of mental health struggles. It’s a great album.


After a tour supporting Echo & the Bunnymen, The Sound issued the Live Instinct EP, shortly before the Bunnymen’s Shine So Hard live EP. While Shine So Hard sounded great and showed the band progressing into their next phase, Live Instinct is something of a regression. It’s upbeat and intense, rough and unsubtle. It’s alright, but offers nothing particularly special. Korova then assigned The Sound the same producer for their second album that had handled the Bunnymen’s Heaven Up Here, Hugh Jones, and he clearly had his own ideas of how From the Lion’s Mouth (1981) should sound. The result is cleaner, more elaborate, and much more refined, but the quality of the songs doesn’t quite match Jeopardy. The grandiosity and stateliness of the production is a welcome change, but the songs suffer from a loss of energy and power. In the process of writing the album, Marshall was apparently kicked out of the band and replaced by Max Mayers, although Marshall was still credited with cowriting “Skeletons” and “The Fire”, the two songs that sound the oldest and rawest. She has claimed that she wrote parts for all of the songs, and that most of those parts ended up on the final album, but Meyers is credited with cowriting five of the songs. Regardless of the author, keyboards and synthesizers took a more prominent role. The highlight of the album remains the strident opener, “Winning”, a battle hymn for combating depression that foreshadows their later anthems. The album was followed by a non-album single, “Hot House”, another excellent upbeat song confronting some sort of struggle.


The Sound’s lack of commercial success began to grate on both the band and their label, and their third album, All Fall Down (1982), is spitefully uncommercial. It’s dark, challenging, and full of synthesizers and drum machines. It’s much more aggressive than From the Lion’s Mouth and perhaps closer to Jeopardy or Second Layer’s World of Rubber (1981). The album has a poor reputation, but most of its risks pay off. The boldest, most difficult track is the opener, “All Fall Down”, but plenty of accessible moments can be found thereafter. “Party of the Mind” is a great pseudo-pop song, and “Monument” is another superb anthem. “Where the Love Is” and “Calling the New Tune” are strong upbeat numbers as well. The album certainly isn’t perfect, but it grows on me more and more with each listen. “We Could Go Far” is a fascinating floating dream, and the irony that the label insisted on adding the bass drum is painful. The box set includes the original version without it, but ultimately both versions have their charms. The reissue also includes three other outtakes that presumably would’ve been b-sides if they’d released a single from the album. None of them are duds, and the best of the bunch, “Sorry”, was even played live.


After getting dropped by their label, The Sound somehow ended up getting paired with former Factory Records singer/songwriter Kevin Hewick for the This Cover Keeps Reality Unreal EP (1983). It sounds like The Sound fronted by Hewick, but Hewick isn’t as convincing as Borland, and it doesn’t hold together well. The first side is more conventional while the second is quite experimental. The final song, “Scapegoat”, was apparently recorded solo by Hewick a year before the rest. It’s a unique release but not particularly successful.


While on the search for a new label, the band recorded a set of demos that first saw release on the second of the Edsel box sets. Three of the tracks would end up on the Shock of Daylight EP, another three on Heads and Hearts, and the remaining four eventually appeared as b-sides as late as 1987. The recordings are a bit rough and it sounds like they suffered some tape generation loss, but the songs are generally fleshed out and well arranged. Most of the songs already sound fairly similar to their eventually released versions, albeit with simpler arrangements and production. Although the demos are an interesting artifact, nothing about them is better than the final versions, so there isn’t much going for it.

Eventually, The Sound ended up on Statik, and their first release with them was Shock of Daylight (1984), an EP that seems like a huge leap from their past. The six songs are all tuneful but deep, with strong lyrics that are generally less downbeat than before. “Counting the Days” is particularly amazing; it sounds like a love song, yet is ambiguous enough to prevent a simple reading. “Winter” is sparser and gloomier, but the other five songs are all anthemic and strong yet complex. The EP might be the most optimistic Sound release, and it’s cohesive and consistent without getting dull. It’s their finest moment.


This was followed by Heads and Hearts (1985), which continues some of the same sounds and themes and almost maintains the same level of quality. “Whirlpool” is a bit dark, but it’s a powerful description of the depressive energy that can suck you down. “Under You” and “Wildest Dreams” are similar, and they too manage to address mental health struggles without sounding trite. On the other hand, “Total Recall”, “Love Is Not a Ghost”, “One Thousand Reasons”, and “Temperature Drop” are grand and beautiful. “Restless Time” and “World As It Is” are slightly more aggressive and recall their earlier sound, which doesn’t work quite as well, while “Mining for Heart” is a throwback to All Fall Down with its minimalism and openness. The band were apparently disappointed with the album and its production, and while it does have a distinctly 80s sound, it’s only barely dated, and the many synthesizers are rarely over the top. The album doesn’t quite match Shock of Daylight, but it’s almost on par. The b-sides aren’t quite at the same level; most of them are heavy and negative. The box set also adds “Shimmer”, a previously unreleased outtake that tops all the b-sides and fits in right with the album tracks. One wonders how it was overlooked for so long!


To make up for their frustrations with Heads and Hearts and its supposed shortcomings, The Sound quickly released a live album, In the Hothouse (1985). Strangely, only four songs from Heads and Hearts made it to the album, but it also included “Prove Me Wrong”, which would end up on Thunder Up two years later in a similar form. The best track is a frenzied version of “Wildest Dreams” that benefits from a blazing solo, but otherwise the production is rather dry and it hardly even sounds like a live album. It’s not bad, but it sounds more like a best-of compilation than an exciting live album. It doesn’t show much that the studio albums didn’t already, and it sounds too tight and clean. There are plenty of bootlegs that are more dynamic and compelling.

After Statik also ended up screwing over the band, they got one more chance with Play It Again Sam, who released their final album, Thunder Up (1987). By this point, Borland’s mental health struggles were beginning to wear down the band, and the album shows it. The first side is almost too bright and direct, with a surprising abundance of optimism and a lack of subtlety, while the second side is darker and more mixed in tone. Although the band had gradually included more and more band compositions over time, this album is almost entirely written solely by Borland. “Barria Alta” is the lone band composition, and it is the most complex and detailed song on the album. “Iron Years” is a solid pop song, but it comes across just barely over the top. “I Give You Pain”, on the other hand, is a solid slow burner like they hadn’t done since “New Dark Age”. Despite that the band got to work with their preferred producer Nick Robbins, the album sounds fairly dated, mostly because of the cheesy synths. The band apparently prefer the production of Thunder Up over Heads and Hearts, but I think the latter is superior in sound and in songwriting. Thunder Up still has some great moments, but it has less depth and nuance.

[Thunder Up.]

The last item in the Edsel box sets is The BBC Recordings, originally a double-disc album released in 2004. The Read and Peel sessions are attached as bonus tracks to the albums they were promoting while the BBC Live in Concert disc is given its own CD. The Read and Peel sessions both have high production values that might make them even better than the album versions. The Read session in particular sounds substantially better than the versions on Jeopardy, and while the Peel session is about as good as the From the Lion’s Mouth versions, the Peel session sounds more natural and less forced. The highlight is an early, slower version of “Hot House” that sounds like it’s still very much a work in progress. The BBC Live in Concert disc also sounds great and somehow more alive and intense than the studio versions. There’s less variation in the sound, but all the tracks are strong. Ian Nelson again shows up to contribute sax to the same three songs he played on from Heads and Hearts, and his parts are more upfront in the mix.

After The Sound, Adrian Borland stayed quite active in the music world until his unfortunate suicide, although he never again quite matched the same level of quality that he had with The Sound. His solo albums carried on where Thunder Up left off, with less of an alternative or post-punk sound and more of a mainstream pop sensibility. His songwriting was generally still good, but the production was often quite cheesy and dated. Borland was also a member of Honolulu Mountain Daffodils (under pseudonym), a bizarre and playful band led by Pete Williams. While many of their songs are indulgent or uninspired, plenty are creative and successful. The vocals are consistently bad, but the atmospheres and ideas are often quite good. “Also Sprächt Scott Thurston”, “(I Feel Like A) Francis Bacon Painting”, and “Collector of Souls” are particularly noteworthy. Later in his career, Borland also collaborated with Carlo van Putten and others (including Mark Burgess of The Chameleons!) under the name White Rose Transmission. Their albums are well-produced, gothic, and haunting, but the results are again mixed. Some of their music works, but some is drab or awkward.

It’s a shame that The Sound never found wider appreciation. Living in the shadow of Echo & the Bunnymen did them no favors; while the Bunnymen may have reached greater heights, one wonders if The Sound could’ve gone just as far if they’d been given the same budget and support. I’m glad that they persevered despite all the downsides of the music industry and that they managed to find sympathetic labels for so long. The Sound never released a bad album, and their willingness to grow and develop without repeating themselves makes their back catalog quite rewarding to explore. The Edsel box sets are well worth their price and are quite well assembled, even if the Statik albums and some of the rarities are sourced from somewhere other than the original master tapes.

Scores:
Propaganda: C+
Physical World EP: B-
Jeopardy: A-
Live Instinct EP: C
From the Lion’s Mouth: B
“Hot House”: A
All Fall Down: B+
This Cover Keeps Reality Unreal EP: C
1983 demos: C-
Shock of Daylight EP: A
Heads and Hearts: A-
In the Hothouse: C+
Thunder Up: B
The BBC Recordings: B

Further Reading:
Interview with Bi Marshall, Part 1
Interview with Bi Marshall, Part 2

Sunday, June 10, 2018

"Militürk" / "Kebabträume": A Brief History

Back in 2007, I bought Fehlfarben's debut album, Monarchie und Alltag (1980), and enjoyed it so much that it was one of the first albums I ever reviewed on this blog. The review might be just a bit naïve, but thankfully some commenters with better knowledge of the era and environment provided some deeper insight. One song on the album always stood out to me: "Militürk", a song with not many lyrics and a cauldron of bizarre and paranoid imagery. In the spirit of my review of "Blaue Augen" by Neonbabies and Ideal, I'd like to go into the details of this song a bit deeper, mostly with links to better-informed bloggers. A word of warning, though: all of the links are in German, just like the song.

An important detail that I didn't mention in the review was that Fehlfarben weren't the first band to perform and record the song. They weren't even the second. As mutanten melodien explains, the song was first recorded by Mittagspause, with lyrics by Gabi Delgado-Lopez while he was still a member, before he co-founded D.A.F. (Deutsch-Amerikanische Freundschaft). The music was supposedly originally inherited from a song by Charley's Girls, whose members Franz Bielmeier and Peter Hein took the tune with them when they formed Mittagspause. Hein brought the song to Fehlfarben just after Delgado-Lopez brought it to D.A.F. under the title "Kebabträume" ("Kebab Dreams"). The blog also mentions several other later versions, including a remake by D.A.F. (inferior to the first version), a spoof by Xao Seffcheque & Die Pest titled "Fortschrittsträume" ("Dreams of Progress") that turns the song into a joke about the contemporaneous German indie/punk music scene, and another spoof by O.R.A.V. (actually Xao Seffcheque and Peter Hein) in a mock-singer-songwriter style. Countless other cover versions abound. (Check out mutanten melodien to hear all of the above versions and more.)

I went into what I took to be the meaning of the song in my Monarchie und Alltag review, but I'd like to expand on that with the assistance of some more intelligent perspectives. I translated some of the lyrics myself, but for a complete version (side by side with the original), see here. In interviews, Delgado-Lopez dodges questions and claims that the song speaks for itself. Since the song may appear racist or anti-immigrant at first glance, that's a dangerous decision. However, he also does not hesitate to speak out on issues of social and economic justice.

In an interview with taz.de from 2010, Delgado-Lopez explains that the song was written during a trip to West-Berlin in 1979 to play at a punk festival at SO36 in Kreuzberg, but he says little else about the song itself. Instead, he speaks out about the exploitation of the Third World by western nations and espouses a decidedly pro-refugee stance. When the interviewer asks why Delgado-Lopez usually leaves out two of the lines when he sings the song now, he responds that he prefers to write about larger connections, not just day-to-day politics, without explaining what made the two lines in question any different than the rest.

In an undated interview with Dearly Demented, Delgado-Lopez sidesteps a question about provocation and shows little concern about his songs being misinterpreted. He does mention that fascist skinheads would occasionally turn up at D.A.F. concerts, particularly in England, leading to arguments and the composition of blatantly homoerotic songs like "Der Räuber und der Prinz" ("The Thief and the Prince") to troll them. He again mentions the backstory of when the song was written, and adds that he was never upset or jealous about Fehlfarben's version. While there was no specific agreement or understanding about it, he also says that wasn't necessary, and the copyright situation was handled correctly and fairly. He again speaks about immigration, declares it inevitable, and notes that as one group integrates and assimilates, the reactionary fears shift to the next new group to arrive.

In "Protestsongs von Punk bis HipHop" from fluter, Ulrich Gutmair writes that the song was a skillful satire of pre-existing stereotypes and fears. The humor lies within the confusion and combination of resentment towards Turkish immigrants and paranoia about communism and the Eastern Bloc. Gutmair also claims that the song was one of the first punk songs to be sung in German. That isn't entirely true, but it was still early enough to be a novelty. The article also discusses Advanced Chemistry's 1992 single "Fremd im eigenen Land" ("Foreign in One's Own Country") and compares the two songs.

By far the most detailed exploration of the song was undertaken by Barbara Hornberger for the Songlexikon in 2016. She goes into great detail about the first D.A.F. version of the song, picking apart every detail of the music and lyrics. She notes that the manner in which Delgado-Lopez delivers the song is staccato, militaristic, unusually emphasized, and rather androgynous. The lyrics are fragmentary and describe an atmosphere rather than a specific event. She also points out that Turkish immigrants were rare in East Germany at that time, so the juxtaposition of the DDR, the Soviet Union, and Turkish immigrants "behind barbed wire" creates irrational vision of terror and confusion. It simultaneously also speaks to the ghettoization of Turks in West Germany, both in the sense of their marginalization due to their migrant background as well as the physical situation of the sizable community in Kreuzberg. The titular "kebab dreams" are presumably the dreams of prosperity hoped for by the immigrants.

The crux is in the final line: "Wir sind die Türken von morgen" ("we are the Turks of tomorrow"). On one hand, it pairs with the preceding line, "Deutschland, Deutschland, alles ist vorbei" ("Germany, Germany, it's all over") to form an exaggerated picture of conservative fear of losing national identity. On the other hand, Hornberger posits that the final line can be seen as a commentary of or antithesis to the rest of the text. It may represent a shift in the authorial perspective. Or is it implying that the "we" (West Germans, presumably) will soon be infiltrating and spying into other countries? [Edit 2019.11.07: Or is it that the next target of marginalization and irrational fear will be the punks performing the song?]

I'm hard-pressed to say whether the Fehlfarben version or the original 1980 D.A.F. version is my favorite. Both have a richness and complexity that are lacking in the rough, punky Mittagspause version or the later, more direct and simplified 1982 D.A.F. remake. Fehlfarben managed to push the punkiness to its borders with a groovy bassline, funky guitar, and squawks of saxophone. D.A.F., in their original five-piece formation, emphasized the electronics and made an unsettling soundscape. Both of these versions express an alienation and eeriness that match the lyrics.

Thanks to Jochen for the mutanten melodien link and the Czech for introducing me to the music in the first place.

P.S. And for something completely different, Stereogum has a great article about the unusual #1 single by the Singing Nun from Belgium in 1963. Be sure to check out the awesome/ridiculous synthpop remake from 1982!

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Forgotten Moments from Post-Punk History

I recently re-read Rip It Up and Start Again: Post-Punk 1978-1984 by Simon Reynolds (see full review here) and along the way I stumbled across a few songs that I would like to call out for their special qualities.

First off is the first single by Pete Shelley, "Homosapien", released in 1981 shortly after the breakup of Buzzcocks. With Martin Rushent continuing his role as producer, the two developed a sound not unlike what Rushent would help create with the Human League on their massively successful Dare immediately thereafter. Coming from such a prominent punk band, I imagine that the synthetic sound that Shelley presented with "Homosapien" was a bit of a shock – but the single was nonetheless a modest hit. In addition to the retro-futuristic video, Shelley's lyrics and delivery reveal an unabashed gayness previously left subdued. Naturally, the BBC banned it. Watch the video here or below:


I think Buzzcocks are fine, but I generally find original singer Howard Devoto's second band, Magazine, far more interesting. Buzzcocks experienced their own degree of growth, but the trappings of punk restrained them whereas Magazine expanded tremendously. When I first heard "Homosapien", I was impressed that Shelley too had grown tired with punk's limitations.

Second is "The Devil Lives in My Husband's Body" by Pulsallama, which is probably a prime example of what some might call a "novelty single". The band consisted of a large coterie of women favoring voices, percussion, and a counterprofessional style. The song is apparently one of only two singles ever produced by the band. While the song itself is already a treasure, the video takes it to the next level. It concerns a woman who becomes increasingly worried about her husband's behavior, which appears to be related to Tourette syndrome. Watch it here or below:


Third up is a delightful slice of New Pop from Orange Juice. "Rip It Up" saw the band moving from their earliest incarnation as a slightly awkward but well-intentioned indie band on Postcard Records to a better produced, more commercial, major-label project with a revamped lineup. While much of their material still comes off as quaint, their biggest single (and the namesake of Reynolds' book) is still a charmer. However, the band proved that they hadn't entirely abandoned their indie/post-punk leanings when they appeared on Top of the Pops in 1983 to mime to the song. First of all, Jim Thirlwell of Foetus suddenly shows up to pretend to play the sax solo, but then singer Edwyn Collins just starts colliding with him! Also, don't forget the song's unsubtle references to Buzzcocks' "Boredom" – and what is with the dancing women tearing up bits of paper!? See it all here or below:


Lastly, I give you an early example of sampling, featuring none other than a real sound bite of then-president Ronald Reagan (up for re-election at the time) saying, "We begin bombing in five minutes", referring to Russia. It was a joke that was not broadcast and only recorded incidentally, but when it leaked, many considered it to be in poor taste. Among the disenchanted, Jerry Harrison (of Talking Heads) and Bootsy Collins (of Parliament-Funkadelic) hooked up with producer Daniel Lazerus to create "Five Minutes" as a form of protest. To get the song out before election day, they had to rush-release it on an independent label, and for some reason they used the one-off name of Bonzo Goes to Washington for their partnership. Listen here or below:


And as a final bonus, check out this awesome flyer for the first Human League concert in 1978:


(Originally seen here on Simon Reynolds' Rip It Up and Start Again footnotes blog.)

Friday, June 28, 2013

The Chameleons - Dreams in Celluloid (2013) and Why Call It Anything reissue (2001/2013)

The Chameleons are a frustrating band at times, mostly due to their difficult discography. I say this because they've only ever released four albums of original material, yet there are at least sixteen assorted "other" full-length releases, some of which even span two discs. For a fairly short-lived band that only released about 60 unique songs, that's quite a feat. They've complicated their catalog with an endless stream of compilations, live albums, acoustic re-recordings, and archival releases of demos, outtakes, b-sides, and radio sessions. Plus, most of these extraneous albums were printed in very limited quantities, making them hard to find and expensive to purchase. The recent reissue campaign has only added more material to the mix.

Last week they reissued their only album of original material released during their reunion, Why Call It Anything, and an apparently new collection of assorted rarities, Dreams in Celluloid. I felt compelled to share my thoughts and analysis of these albums because there isn't much information available anywhere else on what they actually contain. I'll discuss Why Call It Anything first.

[Why Call It Anything (original release): not Reg Smithies' best album art.]

[Why Call It Anything (2013 reissue): not an improvement over the original artwork.]

Artist: The Chameleons
Album: Why Call It Anything
Release Date: July 2001, reissued June 2013
Label: Artful (original), Blue Apple (reissue)
Producer: Dave M. Allen (original/disc 1 only), The Chameleons (all)

Tracklisting:
Disc 1 (original album):
01. Shades
02. Anyone Alive?
03. Indiana
04. Lufthansa
05. Truth Isn't Truth Anymore
06. All Around
07. Dangerous Land
08. Music in the Womb
09. Miracles and Wonders
10. Are You Still There?

Disc 2 (Live at the Academy):
01. A Person Isn't Safe Anywhere These Days
02. Perfume Garden
03. Anyone Alive?
04. Indiana
05. Caution
06. Swamp Thing
07. Lufthansa
08. Dangerous Land
09. Up the Down Escalator
10. Miracles and Wonders
11. Shades
12. Monkeyland
13. Second Skin

Why Call It Anything is a strange album. It was released in 2001, one year after the band reunited to release an album of acoustic re-recordings of their old material (Strip). It clearly sounds like the Chameleons, but it feels more direct, less dreamy and abstract. The songs have simpler arrangements, less dynamic range, and less subtlety. However, the album does pack some power, and the songs are surprisingly catchy. It's not a great album, but certainly a good one, especially for a band reunited after a 13-year hiatus.

This reissue is even stranger. It claims to be remastered but after examining the waveforms the only difference is slight compression and amplification (see loudness war). It also contains a second bonus disc supposedly containing the 2002 album Live at the Academy. However, that album was originally a two-disc release totaling 18 tracks, whereas this single disc houses just 13 tracks. No mention of these excisions is made. Supposedly, this disc is also remastered, but it sounds nearly identical to the original release, barring the familiar compression and amplification and the presence of less audience noise before and after the songs. The live performances are good, but what happened to "Pleasure and Pain", "Seriocity", "Soul in Isolation", "Splitting in Two", and "Tears"? And why does every live album released by a reunited band seem rather redundant after listening to their original live tapes?

[Dreams in Celluloid.]

Artist: The Chameleons
Album: Dreams in Celluloid
Release Date: June 2013
Label: Blue Apple
Producer: The Chameleons (all but disc 1 tracks 1, 5, 11, 12), Steve Lillywhite (disc 1 tracks 1, 5, 11, 12), Colin Richardson (disc 1 track 13), CJ (aka Chris Jones) (disc 2)

Tracklisting:
Disc 1:
01. The Fan and the Bellows
02. Dali's Picture
03. Every Day I'm Crucified
04. Looking Inwardly
05. Nostalgia
06. Turn to the Vices
07. Love Is
08. Nathan's Phase
09. Dreams in Celluloid
10. Things I Wish I'd Said
11. Less Than Human
12. In Shreds
13. Prisoners of the Sun

Disc 2 (Tony Fletcher Walked on Water EP):
01. Is It Any Wonder
02. Free for All
03. The Healer
04. Denims and Curls

Anyone familiar with the Chameleons' back-catalog can't help but notice that the first disc of Dreams in Celluloid looks a lot like The Fan and the Bellows (1986) and Dali's Picture (1993), two previous collections of early material. Any suspicions of redundancy will be immediately confirmed by a simple listening test or waveform comparison. Of course, the Chameleons have a long history of hiding their details, so it is extremely difficult to know for sure exactly what is what. Nonetheless, I will do my best to determine what exactly is to be found on Dreams in Celluloid. First, I will examine these earlier releases by the band.

Supposedly, "Dali's Picture is the original demo album the band cut and sent out to various labels" (source). The recordings are somewhat raw and there are few overdubs, so this is easy to believe. It is not easy to know exactly when these recordings were made or even who drummed on them – Brian Schofield was the band's first drummer, present for their first John Peel session in June 1981, but replaced by John Lever sometime between then and the December 1981 recording sessions with Steve Lillywhite for their first single ("In Shreds"). I suspect that Dali's Picture was recorded between those two events, most likely with John Lever, for the following reasons. Peel invited the band to his show on the strength of a demo, but that demo supposedly was a rehearsal recording before the band had found a drummer (according to George Gimarc's Post Punk Diary). Schofield's name appears only in the credits for the Here Today, Gone Tomorrow and John Peel Sessions collections and nowhere else in their catalog, and although that could just be revisionist history, the drumming on Dali's Picture does sound a lot like Lever's style. This is easy to hear by comparing the drumming arrangements on the songs recorded for both the Dali's Picture demos and the Lillywhite sessions.  [Edit 2026.02.15: Burgess's View from a Hill (2007) confirms all of my suspicions.]

The Fan and the Bellows was apparently originally an unauthorized release that was almost immediately blocked by the band, but it was then released in several countries on multiple labels anyway, so perhaps the band acquiesced in the end. Thankfully, someone bothered to print the copyright years and production details on the album sleeve (see here). One half of the album contains the four tracks recorded with Lillywhite ("In Shreds", "Less Than Human", "Nostalgia", and "The Fan and the Bellows"), a 7" edit of "Nostalgia", and "Prisoners of the Sun", the 1983 b-side of "Up the Down Escalator". "In Shreds" would become the band's first single, released in March 1982 and backed with "Less Than Human". "In Shreds" would later be re-issued in 1985, backed by "Nostalgia"; both tracks were appended to the CD release of their second album, What Does Anything Mean? Basically (1985).

The other half of The Fan and the Bellows appear to be demos from 1981, produced only by the band themselves. A quick check identifies "Every Day I'm Crucified" and "Love Is" as duplicates of the material on Dali's Picture, but mastered slightly differently. (The main difference is just less tape hiss.) "Endlessly Falling", "Turn to the Vices", and "Nathan's Phase" sound like they came from the same sessions but have been otherwise unreleased.

["In Shreds" 1982 Epic single. Artwork later reused for The Fan and the Bellows.]

["In Shreds" 1985 Statik single.]

Why is any of this important? Well, Dreams in Celluloid contains next to nothing when it comes to liner notes and details, so careful comparison with these past releases is necessary to figure out what is actually present on this new collection. It turns out that everything on the first disc of Dreams in Celluloid was previously released on one of these two prior compilations, and sometimes on both. Here's the breakdown:

01. The Fan and the Bellows – Steve Lillywhite session outtake, released on The Fan and the Bellows.
02. Dali's Picture – demo, released on Dali's Picture.
03. Every Day I'm Crucified – demo, released on both The Fan and the Bellows and Dali's Picture, but mastering sounds more similar to the latter.
04. Looking Inwardly – demo, released on Dali's Picture.
05. Nostalgia – b-side of 1985 Statik "In Shreds" single, from Steve Lillywhite session, also released on What Does Anything Mean? Basically CD and The Fan and the Bellows.
06. Turn to the Vices – demo, released on The Fan and the Bellows.
07. Love Is – demo, released on The Fan and the Bellows and Dali's Picture, but mastering sounds more similar to the former.
08. Nathan's Phase – demo, released on The Fan and the Bellows.
09. Dreams in Celluloid – demo (early version of "Second Skin"), released on Dali's Picture.
10. Things I Wish I'd Said – demo, released on Dali's Picture.
11. Less Than Human – b-side of 1982 Epic "In Shreds" single, from Steve Lillywhite session, also released on The Fan and the Bellows.
12. In Shreds – single, released 1982 by Epic and 1985 by Statik, from Steve Lillywhite session, also released on The Fan and the Bellows.
13. Prisoners of the Sun – b-side of 1983 Statik "Up the Down Escalator" single, also released on The Fan and the Bellows.

However, don't get too optimistic: there are just a few tracks from both The Fan and the Bellows and Dali's Picture that are not to be found on Dreams in Celluloid and are otherwise difficult to find. The Fan and the Bellows contains the only released version of "Endlessly Falling" as well as the 7" edit of "Nostalgia", originally released as the b-side of Statik's 1985 "In Shreds" 7" single. Dali's Picture contains otherwise unavailable demos of "The Fan and the Bellows", "Less Than Human", "Monkeyland", and "Nostalgia". Note that any of these titles mentioned above that appear on Script of the Bridge (1983) or the vinyl release of What Does Anything Mean? Basically (1985) are later re-recordings.

Lest you think that this is all of the original studio ephemera from the early days of the Chameleons, you would be wrong. A rare early recording of "Here Today" (different than the version found on Script of the Bridge) can only be found on the 1982 Statik compilation Your Secret's Safe with Us. [Edit 2026.02.15: According to View from a Hill, this was the first session with Lever.] Two other early recordings, "Dear Dead Days" and "Things I Wish I'd Said", apparently recorded in 1981 with early drummer Brian Schofield (source), can only be found on the rare Here Today, Gone Tomorrow (1992) and the 2008 reissue of Script of the Bridge. [These are from an earlier session than the rest, still before the first Peel session.] Both albums also contain an alternate version of "In Shreds", perhaps recorded in 1983. No further information is available for these three rarities. [This was an outtake from the Script sessions that the band decided did not improve upon the original single version.]

At any rate, the Lillywhite session tracks are quite good ("Nostalgia" is one of my favorite songs), "Prisoners of the Sun" is a decent instrumental, and the rest of the demos are nothing special but of some interest in terms of offering witness to the band's development. Dreams in Celluloid does cover the best material from this period, but it is sadly incomplete.

[Tony Fletcher Walked on Water EP. Good luck reading the text on the cover.]

Enough about the first disc of Dreams in Celluloid. Thankfully, the second disc is pretty simple: it's just a reissue of the treasured Tony Fletcher Walked on Water EP, recorded in 1987 right before the band broke up, halfway released in 1990 by singer/bassist Mark Burgess before being blocked by guitarist Dave Fielding. These four songs have also been released on Northern Songs (1994) and some editions of Return of the Roughnecks (1997). The EP has always been hard to find and it is unclear to me why anyone in the band would want to hide it. Simply put, it's amazing and stands up exceedingly well as a strong follow-up to Strange Times (1986). Each of the four songs continues the dreamy, powerful, melodic trend brought to the fore on the preceding album. There isn't a weak second on the whole thing.

Conclusion:
Both of these new releases are frustrating due to their incompleteness – they offer some good material, but at the cost of skipping over a few tracks that somehow got left behind and thus remain obscure and expensive to find. The remastering job on all the material is slight and perhaps even a downgrade due to loss of dynamic range. I'm at least happy that most of this material is finally in print again, especially the Tony Fletcher EP, but I'm disappointed that these collections are incomplete and offer nothing previously unreleased. (Even the cover art of Dreams in Celluloid, which I originally assumed to be a new work by Dave Fielding, was previously used in part for the "Singing Rule Britannia (While the Walls Close In)" single.)

["Singing Rule Britannia (While the Walls Close In)" single.]

Scores:
Why Call It Anything (original release): B
Live at the Academy (original release): B
Why Call It Anything (2013 reissue): C
Dali's Picture: C
The Fan and the Bellows: C+
Tony Fletcher Walked on Water EP: A+
Dreams in Celluloid: B

P.S. Both Here Today, Gone Tomorrow and John Peel Sessions remain mostly overlooked in the Chameleons reissue campaign over the past five years. While the former is scattershot and only occasionally interesting, the latter is a fantastic collection of very high-quality performances.

[Edit 2015.02.11: The John Peel Sessions album has been reissued and I reviewed it here!]