Pop music
Not even the chair
Marcus Berkmann
So far, 1989 has not been the best of years for records by those we like to think of as 'major' artists. Time and again, heavily touted new albums have hit the record racks with a bang but actually hit the turntable with a dull, floppy sound, and just sat there festering quietly. Or, as in the case of Tin Machine, festering noisily. Have you heard it yet? Only the most psychopathically loyal Bowie fans have even a remotely kindly word to say about it. And for that matter, what about the Simple Minds album? Dull, pompous, self-important — yes, it's Tales of Topog- raphic Oceans revisited. The Queen one isn't up to much either — too much heavy metal guitar, too few tunes — and even Prince's Batman effort is a little thin.
As a result of all this disappointment, the album charts have an unfamiliar look to them. Instead of all the 'adult-oriented' acts that usually dominate the top ten, we have one Neighbours star (Jason Donovan —mean age of audience: 43/4), two modern soul acts for the teens (Bobby Brown and Soul II Soul), an unbelievably camp pair of Eurodisco musclemen with a fondness for outré rubberwear (London Boys) and a trashy guitar act who would like to be Blondie but aren't (Transvision Vamp). Only Simply Red — whose A New Flame, if nothing too special, is at least listenable — represent the grown-ups.
This is bad news for everyone who hasn't bought anything since Tanita Tikaram and is now looking for something to play in the car for the summer. (Go on, admit it). But if the big names have let us down, the margins of the pop world are rather more fertile this year than normal. Indeed, there is an excellent crop of new (or at least relatively unfamiliar) artists around at the moment, all with highly recommended new albums. There is an alternative to Gloria Estefan after all.
Danny Wilson's first album I plugged shamelessly in this column about two years ago, although in retrospect I think I may have gone a little over the top. Steely Dan copyists to a blatant degree — if you're going to have 'influences', make sure you have the best — they have recently re- leased a second album, BeBop MopTop (Virgin), that is much more commercial and confident, with a less fussy production and a more immediate set of tunes. Amongst the best are the single, 'The Second Summer of Love', a rousing folk-
rocky little thing which makes some good jokes about acid house, and 'If Everything You Said Was True', which sounds like at least five tracks from Pretzel Logic.
Del Amitri, meanwhile, are another Scots group with an eye on the American market, and their second album, Waking Hours (A&M), is a slick and melodic throwback to the Eagles and their country- rock forbears, full of vocal harmonies and pedal steel guitar. Leader Justin Currie has a strong voice in the Steve Miller mould, and writes good lyrics too, for someone with such prominent sideburns.
Kirsty MacColl is perhaps a more famil- iar name. It was she who sang 'There's A Guy Works Down the Chipshop Swears He's Elvis' and who wrote Tracey Ullman's hit 'They Don't Know'. But she's not had the critical coverage or the sales that she has deserved. Her latest album, Kite (Vii - gin), is a fine collection, with 11 of her own songs as well as her hit version of Ray Davies's 'Days'. As with the previous two records, tune fanciers should find much here to satisfy them, while the lyrics are often superbly barbed and always worth your full attention. All three of these albums will make even the most redundant M25 contraflow system at least tolerable.
On the subject of lyrics, 1 have had a few letters responding to my Worst Lyrics of All Time piece last month (for which many thanks), including one from Alan Had- field, who has helpfully provided the mis- sing words to Neil Diamond's execrable 'I Am, I Said': "I am," I said/To no-one there/And no-one heard at all/Not even the chair.' Could this, finally, be the outright winner?
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