Pop music
Christmas crackers
Marcus Berkmann
With Christmas looming in its usual dispiriting way, it's time to start thinking of those records you're going to buy for yourself rather than for your grasping relatives and friends (Dire Straits' Money For Nothing compilation will do for most of them). When on the 28th or so it dawns upon you with appalling clarity that the only feasible alternative to a conversation with your grandmother is The Great Escape for the 483rd time, it's good to have a few new records on hand -- and I'm not talking about that copy of Cliff Richard's Private Collection your brother gave you as a joke.
Fortunately there have been many splen- did pop albums out this year, many of which I reviewed in this column. I was interested, though, to see which of the various records I raved about actually survived beyond the regulation three play- ings. My opinions, like anyone's, tend to alter markedly over time, so this year, as a small experiment, I noted down whenever I played an album and last week totted the figures up. Not surprisingly, some records had disappeared without trace, while others I hadn't rated at all had managed somehow to remain glued to my unwilling turntable. What follows is therefore an entirely personal and biased selection of the year's best, but then what else did you expect?
Top of the Berkmann chart was Prefab Sprout's From Langley Park To Memphis (Kitchenware). If anyone today is making pop music with brains, it's Paddy McA- loon, the writer and . guitarist in this Newcastle-based group. This album, their third, includes the hit 'The King Of Rock 'N' Roll', but that's not really typical of an infinitely subtle and musicianly collection of songs that continues to yield something new on every listen. If their previous two recordings, Swoon and Steve McQueen, were a little user-hostile — McAloon's writing style tends towards the obtuse — this album retains their sophistication and style but grabs you from the very first hearing. Beautifully produced by (on diffe- rent tracks) Thomas Dolby and Jon Kelly (who last year gave us Deacon Blue's superb Raintown), From Langley Park To Memphis has doubled the group's sales across Europe, and deservedly.
Close runner-up was Microdisney's 39 Minutes (Virgin). This equally impressive pop album, in contrast, was an abject failure when released in March — it sold 5,000 copies worldwide. Virgin dumped the group and they promptly split up. It's all a terrible shame, but again the pop industry's perennial eagerness to stamp labels on everything is to blame. Mierodis ney's singer and co-songwriter Cathal Coughlan sings angry vituperative lyrics about whatever infuriates him most at that particular moment — it's often impossible to tell what it is that actually annoys him so, as the levels of irony and analogy can be impenetrably dense, but You always know that he's cross about something. Behind this, though, is not the angry thrash that you might normally expect, but some of the most tuneful pop-rock you could hope to hear. It's not an especially settling mixture but it's a beguiling one. The record industry — and specifically radio — natur- ally found it impossible to pigeonhole, so they ignored it. Result: another interesting group chucked away just as they were producing their best work.
At an earlier stage in their career are The Bible, whose second album Eureka (Chrysalis) came an impressive third equal. Jangly guitar pop is their forte, with influences as diverse as Lloyd Cole, Steely Dan (but of course) and even Pink Floyd on some tracks. Wisely Chrysalis are allow- ing this four-piece to develop at their own speed, picking up an audience through their undoubted excellence rather than misdirected hype. Working with a sym- pathetic producer, Steve Earle, has helped refine their talents further, and I'm sur- prised they haven't had more acclaim. But then again, have you ever heard them on the radio? Of course not.
A similar fate befell Brian Wilson, whose self-titled solo album was his first record of substance since he masterminded the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds 22 years ago. Since then he has spent much of his time befuddled by drugs, drink and serious mental illness. Not that you'd ever know it by his album, which sounds as fresh and joyous as the best Beach Boys recordings. And his multi-tracked harmonies on songs like 'Melt Away' and 'There's So Many' are at times heartstoppingly beautiful.
Racing up on the stand side, meanwhile, is The Travelling Wilburys (WEA), which I have been playing virtually non-stop since I received it six weeks ago. This, as you no doubt know by now, is an album recorded 'for fun' by an ad hoc supergroup of George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Roy Orbi- son, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne (of ELO), all using silly Wilbury aliases and hiding behind sunglasses for good measure. Need- less to say it's the best album any of them has been involved in for many years, an entirely contagious cocoction of new songs which combines the strengths of all con- cerned while seemingly displaying none of their weaknesses. Magnificent.
After these five: Graham Parker's The Mona Lisa's Sister (Demon), Lyle Lovett's Pontiac (MCA), The Pet Shop Boys' Intro- spective (Parlophone), Sade's Stronger Than Pride (CBS) and Keith Richards's Talk Is Cheap (Virgin). All are of course heartily recommended.
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