Pop music
Wrinkle rock lives on
Marcus Berkmann
T, orrents of scorn and contumely have descended upon the recent Brits awards, whose winners turned out to have an aver- age age of 276 and more lines on their faces than W. H. Auden. Rod Stewart looked as though he had been pickled in brine, and sang as though he had, too. Meanwhile, several other sharp-suited rock legends of a certain age came on, col- lected their gongs and thanked all the peo- ple who really mattered — their managers, their lawyers and their accountants. An audience full of managers, lawyers and accountants applauded wildly. It was a des- perate sight.
Oddly enough, though, some of the best releases of the moment are from pop-per- sons of noticeably wrinkly tendencies. None, for instance, comes much wrinklier than Mick Jagger, whose determination to keep thin has left him with a face that looks like a much baked and battle-hard- ened conker. But after two equally over- cooked solo albums, his third, Wandering Spirit (Atlantic), is really rather good. No doubt irked at the decline of his own repu- tation and the consequent canonisation of Keith Richard as the real heart of the Stones, Jagger seems to have made a gen- uine effort with this album, and the result is a surprisingly tough and lean collection of songs in a variety of styles. Even so, he wouldn't be Mick Jagger if he didn't bite off more than he could chew, and here that mouthful is 'Handsome Molly', a toe- curling slab of cod Irishry that could make you inadvertently draw blood.
Sting is another old crock whose records excite strong reactions. Years of unalloyed seriousness, saving of rainforests and gen- eral superstar angst have not gone down too well with an audience who just want him to get on with writing decent songs. Fortunately, it seems that he has finally come to the same conclusion, and Ten Summoners' Tales (A&M) is a real stormer. 'Shape Of My Heart' is a shivery acoustic ballad in the style of 'Fragile': 'She's Too Good For Me' is a bouncy Police-style pop song, and if anyone releases a more perfect single this year than 'If I Ever Lose My Faith In You', I shall be mightily surprised. He's even smil- ing on the back cover — a mirthless smile, admittedly, but that's as good as we're ever going to get.
Lenny Kravitz's Are You Gonna Go My Way (Virgin) is a disappointment. The fashion for all things Seventies has come at a good time for Kravitz, who is a musical throwback of uncanny proportions. Hen- drix, Lennon, PhiIly soul — all are ingest- ed, digested, and regurgitated in exciting new up-to-the-minute forms. At least that's the idea, but on this, his third album, the gag is beginning to wear thin. The problem is a worrying shortage of tunes, as well as a new stodginess of production that buries whatever tunes there are under too much instrumentation. If you want to know what all the fuss is about, buy his first album, 1989's Let Love Rule, which is a true classic.
There's all too little fuss surrounding The Beloved's Conscience (East West), and I think that's a pity. Few performers who made their names in the early days of the house music explosion have ever actually gone on to achieve very much, but The Beloved might be the exception. Their/his recent single °Sweet Harmony' had a melancholy air and a grasp of melody that did strange things to my central nervous system, and if the album isn't quite of the same standard — there's a lot of filler here — it does contain some beautiful music. Soft dance rhythms, ingenious synthesiser arrangements, girly backing vocals. At best it's an irresistible combination, optimistic and uplifting.
Finally to Duran Duran, and a small warning to anyone who was thinking, how- ever vaguely, of investing in their latest album — winningly entitled Duran Duran (Parlophone) — on the basis of their won- drous comeback single 'Ordinary World': don't. It's a red herring. The rest is hope- less. Buy The Beloved's album instead.
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