SENSATIONAL SOPHOMORE ALBUMS

 

As a follow up to my previous article on dazzling debuts, I decided to capture some thoughts on some spectacular sophomore albums by my favorite artists.  The “sophomore slump” is a well known adage in the music industry and refers to the likelihood that an emerging artist, who starts out strong with their debut release, will fumble their second.   This is often the case with bands who may have a few years of work and refinement going into their debut, but then have to hustle with limited time and often lesser material for their followup.  The pressures of meeting success with success can often leave an artist up against the wall when it comes to trying to make lightning strike twice.  The more successful a debut, the more likely the “curse” will take hold.  It’s a common pattern, especially in the heyday of the rock music business, once the album gained primacy in the late 1960s.  That’s when the album became more than a collection of songs, but a statement in itself and was expected to hold together as a unified conception.  Many fell short, but a few managed to not only surpass their debuts, but create something which would go on to be a defining statement and high water mark for their careers.  

BLACK SABBATH - PARANOID

Black Sabbath may have invented “heavy metal” on their stunning 1969 eponymous debut LP, but they perfected it on its followup, 1970’s Paranoid.  The title track alone could sustain the album in its heights, but the fact it was accompanied by such other classics as War Pigs, Iron Man, Fairies Wear Boots and the gear shifting, etherial Planet Caravan, secured this album as the peak of Sabbath’s career.  There were more great albums and songs, but this one is so dense with concentrated brilliance that it can easily stand as the primary essential album from the band.  The riffs, the hooks and the energy are all on point at every turn.  When you think of Black Sabbath, it’s likely that this is the first music of theirs that comes to mind, with the possible exception of the title track from the debut album.  

PENGUIN CAFE ORCHESTRA

Simon Jeffes’ Penguin Cafe Orchestra came out of the gates in 1976 with a debut album that somewhat awkwardly shifted between avant-garde experimentation and more folk inspired contemporary classical pieces.  The combination was uneven and offered an inconsistent listening experience.  By the time the project returned for it’s second outing in 1981, that confusion was gone and what took its place was a vision of crystal clarity.  The most critical shift was that the experimentalism was now more a nuance to the proceedings than a raison d'être.  There were still subtle hints of it, like the phone effects in Telephone and Rubber Band, but the folksy neoclassical song crafting became the true purpose and every compositions within the album encapsulated that aim from start to finish.  Whereas the strangeness distracted on the first album, it highlighted and enhanced on the second, offering a tweaking of the sound in just the right way to set it off against the musicality of the proceedings.  Two further studio albums would follow over the years before Jeffes passed, but the striking perfection of that second album remained a high bar which the other albums, though valiant efforts, couldn’t exceed.

ELVIS COSTELLO - THIS YEAR’S MODEL

Elvis Costello’s debut release managed to show off his song writing skills, but the lacklustre production on the album left it sounding more like a pub rock demo session than a fully crafted harbinger of the “new wave” coming along in tandem with the “punk” scene.  There were great songs there but it all sounded thin and tinny.  Those flaws would be firmly dealt with on his next album, This Year’s Model, where the production and performances were as tight and punchy as Costello’s song writing.  Elvis’ aim may have been true on the previous release, but his method was not supported by the folks capturing him on tape.  For the second round, however, he glares out at the listen from the cover, camera at the ready and you know he means business this time around.  It’s an album that runs lean and doesn’t dither with unnecessary elements.  It’s all cut and trimmed to maximum leanness and every song serves up a bite and a jab that hits the bullseye without fail.  It also has a style to it that is clearly modern in its references, even when they lean into 60’s nostalgia.  The “pub” aesthetic is gone and he’s pushing squarely into the future.  His next effort, Armed Forces, would continue with this precision and perfection, nearly equaling its predecessor and, some may argue, exceeding it.   Beyond these two records, for my tastes, Costello was never more compelling nor engaging.  

TUBEWAY ARMY / GARY NUMAN - REPLICAS

Tubeway Army was, for all practical purposes, Gary Numan, so I look at his solo catalogue as inclusive of their two releases.  Their eponymous debut album was solid and veers heavily into the direction he’d go on later LPs, but it was not quite fully fleshed out.  The synthesizer there was no more than a novelty accent and the sound was still dominated by guitars.  It was the second album where the fusion of man and machine, synthesizer and rock ’n roll, achieved it’s ideal balance.  With Replicas, Numan morphed into the “sad android” persona which informed songs such as Are 'Friends' Electric? and Down In The Park.  The cover features poor, lonely Gary-bot doing his best Kraftwerk impression, though his music had more pathos and emotion than the iconoclastic and highly stylized Germans.  But in comparison, Kraftwerk were mature, experienced robots by the time Replicas came out, whereas Gary was barely beyond adolescence, which provides a great deal of the charm of this album.  His naivety makes him approachable and likeable instead of pretentious and that’s what grants this album its apex position in his catalogue.  By the time the 3rd album came around, Tubeway Army was discharged and Gary went corporate, complete with mega hit, Cars, as he became a marketing expert with The Pleasure Principal.  It’s an exceptional record, but the contrivances of it are more studied and less inspired and novel than Replicas.  It was a refinement in terms of eliminating guitars in favour of synths, but basically more of what Replicas had already established.  Beyond these albums, things never surpassed the creative freshness of Replicas and its distinctive iconography.

THE RAINCOATS - ODYSHAPE

While most UK punk tended to follow the stencil of primal block chord thrashing, the post-punk scene, which seeped from under its floorboards, produced some notable forays into truly original and inspired new music.  Percolating up as a tangent from the all girl Slits, The Raincoats, briefly borrowing their drummer, Palmolive, would become one of the most infamous groups from the era.  They didn’t make a significant impact at the time, but their legacy and influence would grow exponentially over the decades as the likes of Kurt Cobain cited them as influences and their reissued records came to new ears.  Their first album clearly showed the promise they had to offer, but their second album, Odyshape, fully exploited their idiosyncratic vision.  

Combining the atmosphere of dub inspired aesthetics with continental and Celtic folk influences, Odyshape took their sound into a kind of asymmetrical structure which could often invoke the kind of eccentric naivety of The Shaggs, though with the benefit of actual musical virtuosity.  There’s a raw intimacy to these songs which is distinctly and unapologetically feminine in nature, entirely eschewing the swagger of masculine rock tropes in favour of a “girl power” that could rage just as savagely.  A song like the title track explores the idea of body image and unrealistic expectations of the media in a way that was years ahead of the feminist trends of the current century.  These girls were doing it for themselves in a way that subsequent generations would later have to play catch-up to equal.  While their third and final studio album would offer another solid set of exceptional material, it veered into slightly more traditional song structures, which for me, gives Odyshape the edge over their other two albums, simply by virtue of its originality.

NEW ORDER - POWER, CORRUPTION AND LIES

In the wake of Ian Curtis’ suicide, it’s something of a minor miracle that the remaining band members managed to regroup and soldier on.  And while their debut as New Order offered up some brilliant work, it also laboured under the shadow of the tragedy they’d survived.  Every groove in Movement is saturated with a sense of loss and remorse.  It was all a rather intense, brooding affair.  But their next releases would break through the gloom and emerge with a sound that was not only free of the spectre of death, but was a celebration of life and living, even at its most painful.  The double whammy of both the single, Blue Monday, and the album, Power Corruption and Lies, burst onto the music scene of the early 1980s with such vim and vigour that they changed the vibe on the underground dance floors in a paradigm shifting manner.  They created the link between the rawness of punk and the sophistication of electronic music, creating a dynamic which would influence dance music for decades going forward.  These releases were so potent that the group never managed to surpass them in terms of influence and cohesion.   

CAN - TAGO MAGO

While 1971’s Tago Mago may have come as CAN’s third album release, it more properly represents their true 2nd album.  Monster Movie was their first, released in 1969, followed by Soundtracks in 1970, but this second release was in fact a collection of disparate, unrelated compositions created for various film projects in the preceding couple of years and, therefore, does not represent a creatively coherent effort by the band (though the album still holds together quite nicely).  Tago Mago, on the other hand, was the group coming together with new vocalist, Damo Suzuki (replacing Malcolm Moonie) to craft an epic double LP’s worth of music specifically conceived to function as their true sophomore release.  Even the notation on the back of Soundtracks stated this fact.  “’Can Soundtracks’ is the second album of The Can but not album no. two.”

Tago Mago thus contains the sum of their creative evolution to that point, rendered through a series of sometimes monumental improvisational excursions, intercut and rearranged using Holger’s emerging mastery of tape editing and production.  Side long epics like Halleluwah brought their thundering groove to the forefront while Aumgn took them into the farthest reaches of abstract dissolution and atmosphere.  In between, shorter tracks like Paperhouse and Mushroom brought them into a tighter focus and showed their ability to function within a more concise framework.  Taken together, it’s music of a completely singular nature, unlike anything any contemporary of their time was able to muster.  That’s something of an accomplishment given the company they were keeping in Germany at the time.  To be able to stand above the heads of giants like Kraftwerk, Neu! or Cluster is no mean feat.  Tago Mago’s greatness is in its scale and breadth, something that was only possible when allowed to sprawl over two slabs of vinyl.  CAN released a lot of other great music, but they never took the luxury to let it get this expansive again.  

QUEEN II

Of course there’s all sorts of arguments to be made for later albums being the peak of Queen’s creative accomplishments.  Certainly A Night at the Opera is an obvious choice, but there’s an old saying amongst Queen fans that you can tell the true diehards because they’ll always pick Queen II as their favorite.  While other albums may feature more refined song craft & production, there’s still something about that second album that hardcore fans recognize and cherish.  There’s a heaviness about it that would never be seen again on any other album, a kind of darkness and a sense of epic drama which brings you into some fantastical and imposing landscapes, complete with battling ogres and deathbed kings.  There’s also that stunning cover photo by Mick Rock, which has become the most iconic image of the band to date.  Revived for the Bohemian Rhapsody video, it was seared into the minds of Queen fans decades ago and remains their most recognizable avatar.  The split between the “black” and “white” sides of the album also helps to give it a conceptual framework that you don’t find on any other album.  As a result, it’s the place the true fan of the band will always find them preserved in their most intense and dynamic incarnation.  When you see some of the live footage of them from this period, encased and compressed like diamonds in those smaller venues, the hardness of their rocking is undeniable.  Subsequent albums would lighten the mood considerably, so this is the place to go for the uncut jewels.  

PSYCHIC TV - DREAMS LESS SWEET

After the “termination” of Throbbing Grislte’s “mission”, Genesis P-Orridge and Peter Christopherson teamed up with Alex Fergusson to form the core of the first incarnation of Psychic TV.  This central triad, along with a revolving ensemble of guests and a bit of help from a few professional studio musicians, would create two landmark albums before the configuration changed and moved the project in other directions.  The PTV debut, Force the Hand of Chance, set a stunning change of course after the gritty industrial grind of TG, opting instead for clarity and precision and professionalism.  We get pretty folk music, mutant funk/disco, spaghetti western vistas and motivational commercials on the first album, smashing any preconceptions anyone could have had for what these “wreckers of civilization” might be capable of.  But the first album, as magnificent as it is, was only the warmup for what would come next.  

Dreams Less Sweet is one of the most complex conceptual artifacts ever produced by a group purporting to operate in any proximity to “pop” music.  Every facet and detail contained in every element of it has been meticulously calculated to reinforce the thematic content being exacted upon the listener, on both a conscious and subconscious level.  Each piece is carefully structured to flow into the next with seamless fluidity.  Each component of the packaging is insidiously contrived to ingrain its subtext upon the unsuspecting consumer.  While the first album offered up its varied excursions in a somewhat discrete, segmented arrangement, Dreams Less Sweet made distinctions between pieces and movements seem indiscernible.  Taking a cue from Kraftwerk’s Autobahn by beginning the album with the sound of a car door closing, the journey then takes a sharp detour off the main roads and into a cavernous spelunking of mystical undergrowth.  Even when it’s manipulating you into feeling like it wants to be beautiful, it’s surreptitiously insinuating something dire and sadistic, from the phallic pierced flower on the cover to the “Christmas” song that takes its lyrics from the final mass suicide speech of Jim Jones.  You can’t take anything here at face value and the album seduces you into unravelling its mysteries with each listen.  Through all its other incarnations and some other very fine records, Psychic TV never managed to outdo the rich complexity of Dreams Less Sweat.  

PUBLIC IMAGE LTD. - METAL BOX / SECOND EDITION

The debut of John Lydon’s post Sex Pistols reinvention was something which was fraught with impossible expectations and unreasonable judgements from the press.  They were looking to chew him to bits and, in many ways, their first album was just the fodder on which they wanted to stomp(f).  While the debut single from the album got people excited and anticipatory, the sheer uncompromising quarrelsomeness of the rest of the album meant that it was doomed to being a somewhat uneven affair.  Some tracks were well produced and benefitted from reputable studio resources while others were slapped together after the money ran out and they “only wanted to finish the album with a minimum amount of effort.”  It’s got flashes of brilliance, but also splashes of precocious self-indulgence which often only half-work, depending on your preferences and patience.  

When it came time to do the next album, however, even with many of those indulgences still in high gear, PiL managed to find themselves in the middle of a creative epiphany the likes of which few bands ever get to enjoy.  Some kind of magic happened amid all the chaos and substance abuse and it all coalesced around their concept of dystopian dance music driven by thundering subterranean bass and splattered with atonal shards of guitars and vocals.  In their fusion of dub, Krautrock and Beefheart style jaggedness, PiL had stumbled onto a recipe for a kind of music that was uniquely suited for the dismal realities of urban living in the looming decadence of the 1980s.  

While their next album, Flowers of Romance, struck out in a very different, yet equally bold new direction and certainly sustains its own relevance, it simply can’t compete with the monolithic presence of that metal canister and, at almost half the running time, its sweeping landscape.  No other record from Pil, in any variant, ever came close to equaling the impact of those first three albums with the clear pinnacle remaining that transcendent triple threat of 12” EPs which was Metal Box.

PREMIUM PREMIERES - MY TEN ESSENTIAL DEBUT ALBUMS

 

Most musical artists take a bit of time to get up to speed.  It usually takes an album or two before they really hit their stride.  Sometimes, like Kraftwerk, they may travel some strange roads before the epiphany hits and they finally find their “Autobahn”, in their case, their 4th LP.  But some groups come out of the gate with debut albums so iconic and well defined, they spend the rest of their careers trying to surpass them.  Some groups never quite manage that feat and some groups simply stop after their moment of glory and never put out another record.

Top 10 lists are a bit trite and overdone, but I’m doing one more for purely personal amusement.  It started as a meme in social media to list outstanding debuts, but I wanted to focus it a bit more.  This list is very personal in terms of the records all having deep meaning and significance for me and they certainly show my age given they were all released within a few years of each other.  They also adhere to certain other criteria.  Mostly, they represent groups who hit it out of the park with their first album and never surpassed it with any subsequent release, at least as far as my estimation is concerned.  Some may have come damn close, but for all practical purposes, if you have this album and none other, you’ll pretty much get the full picture of what they had to offer.  In many cases, they have major cultural significance in that they were the cornerstone of a particular musical movement.  In other cases, they simply represent the group’s own peak of performance and cohesion.  Whatever the case, for me personally, each title listed here stands alone and introduces the artist without any sense of vagueness or tentativeness.  It comes at you with clear confidence in its merits and meanings.

With that, let’s dive in.  The ordering here is not particularly critical, but I have somewhat sorted them in terms of at least personal significance.  

FM - Black Noise (1977)

In late 1976, Toronto based keyboardist and bassist, Cameron Hawkins, and violinist, mandolin player, Nash the Slash, formed an unlikely duo as FM.  Through whatever connections, happenstance or serendipity within the local arts community, they managed to land a spot on TV Ontario’s Nightmusic program, where they played their debut live public performance, initially broadcast on November 3rd of that year.  I happened to catch it, by chance, and it knocked my 13 year old brain sideways.  I knew little of music or how to make it at that time and was just starting to get curious, but seeing space-hippie Cameron with his stacks of synthesizers on the one side and proto-steampunk Nash, with his electric violin and mandolin on the other, was definitely like something out of some strange hallucination.  It stuck with me and dug it’s hooks in deeper when I happened to catch the show when it was repeated a few months later.

In 1978, I finally spotted the Black Noise album in one of my local record shops and, recognizing the band from the program, snapped it up.  By then, the group had added drummer Martin Deller to the mix, something I was initially suspicious of because I thought this band without a drummer, using one of the earliest drum machines I’d ever heard, was such a novelty and I thought that adding a drummer might make them a bit more conventional.  But the album still showcased their idiosyncrasies.  As a progressive rock album, it had the unique distinction of having NO GUITARS on it.  Nash’s use of violin and mandolin instead guaranteed that FM would always have a stamp of the atypical, even as Nash moved on and others replaced him.  

Nash’s departure, however, also ensured that the debut album would possess a certain nuance and charm that no other player would be able to fully duplicate.  His replacement for the next two albums, Ben Mink, was clearly a talented musician, someone who would more than prove his talents with his work with K.D. Lang in later years, but there was no replacing Hash’s style and personality, something he took with him when he became an iconic solo performer.  The albums that came after Black Noise are not without their charms, but the depth and breadth of this debut remains unassailable to this day. Even when Nash returned to the fold for a couple of albums in the mid 1980s, the material veered too much into commercial mainstream territory to threaten the primacy of Black Noise.  

It may be an album that only Canadians properly appreciate.  Phasers On Stun still gets regular rotation on Canadian oldies radio.  Personally, however, it holds a special place in my musical heart.  Nash was a major inspiration for me both with FM and as a solo performer and Black Noise and it’s presaging TV special are the root of that influence.   

Young Marble Giants - Colossal Youth (1980)

Moxham brothers, Stuart and Phillip, along with vocalist Alison Statton, came together long enough to put out one album in 1980.  On the surface, it’s a modest little collection of modest little songs by a trio of modest musicians from Wales.  It’s quiet and introspective and doesn’t make a lot of fuss about itself, but it somehow still manages to loom on the horizon like a great monolith.  Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants has held up remarkably well over the years, retaining every ounce of it’s persuasiveness while refusing to give in to the ravages of time and trends.  Driven by a chintzy little drum machine and supported by Phil’s sonorous bass, Stuart delicately crafts deftly minimalist guitar and organ riffs around which Alison flits about like a precious little bird with her vocals.  The economy of the music here is positively neurotic in its precision.  There’s not a single sound or note more than absolutely necessary to contain the essence of each piece.

Cowboys International - The Original Sin (1979)

In 1979, Ken Lockie put together an album of modern alternative rock that fused first-rate song writing with arrangements that leaned heavily into the emerging synth-wave being pioneered by the likes of Ultravox and Gary Numan.  While most people were pushing things into the colder Kraftwerk styled aesthetic of dystopian mechanization, Lockie took his sound into a more romantic, emotive direction, presaging the “New Romantic” movement which would peak with bands like Duran Duran.  Lockie’s outfit, which featured the likes of Clash drummer, Terry Chimes, and guest appearances by PiL guitarist, Keith Levene, crafted a seamless collection of memorable songs which rode the edge of the new music coming from the UK.  The PiL connection would actually have deeper roots beyond this album with Ken having a hand in the Radio Four track on Metal Box and him nearly becoming a fifth member of the band during the ill fated Commercial Zone sessions a few year later.  All this only indicates how much Lockie was on the forefront of what was truly progressive pop music, both in terms of style and content.  Yet Cowboys International would only issue this one album before fading into the discount bins.  A travesty considering the exceptional quality of this album.  

Specials (1979)

If you were to only have one ska album in your collection, it might as well be this one because it’s simply so concise and thorough that it captures every important aspect of the genre, at least as far as it manifested in its revived form at the end of the 1970s.  Following in the wake of punk, it took the anger and social outrage of that scene and channeled it into a racially diverse commentary on cultural fusion.  The “2 Tone” ideology of black and white working together in balance and unity was a forward thinking approach that seems so sadly distant in the “Brexit” era of UK bigotry.

Though there were many vital artists who also came out of this scene, the Specials remain the most memorable and this album captures all the best of their essence across 14 compact and infectious songs.  With Jerry Dammers as the principal songwriter and Terry Hall taking most of the lead vocals, the group nailed it on every essential social issue they tackled and did so with both humor and a kind of morose mockery that gave them their edge.  This careful balance didn’t last long, however, as Hall, along with Neville Staple and Lynval Golding split off to form Fun Boy Three, who themselves created a debut album that deserves honorable mention here.  Though they wouldn’t create another album of this strength, they would at least drop a mammoth statement of a single with Ghost Town in 1981.  On its own, it could be one of the greatest singles of all time.    

Killing Joke (1980)

Following in the wake of groups like Public Image Ltd, Joy Division & Gang of Four, Killing Joke’s eponymous debut formed the bridge between the rawness of punk and the terror of industrial music.  For better or worse, Killing Joke were the ones who laid the foundations for the kind of industrial rock which would become mainstream with bands like Nine Inch Nails.  For me, Killing Joke’s debut is the quintessence of what that kind of music can be when it’s done right.  The use of synthesizer with the grinding guitars and chugging drums is a prototype for dozens of bands who followed in their footsteps.  But where most of the bands who came after relied on little more than grind and swagger, Killing Joke excelled with solid song writing or, at the very least, infectious hooks to secure each track a notable spot on the album.  

The B-52’s (1979)

Though their biggest hit would come a few years later with Love Shack, overall, the 1979 debut from The B-52’s simply can’t be surpassed in terms of it’s encapsulation of vintage kitsch culture.  Retro fetishism can be pretty much traced back to land squarely on the doorstep of these Athens, GA natives and every track on their first album oozes with lava lamp science fiction dance party deliciousness.  

Right from the first twang of Ricky’s Peter Gunn inspired riff for Planet Clair, the controls are set for the heart of the stunning as things just get more fabulous with each Shu-ga-loo, Hippie Shake and Camel Walk.  The showcase hit, Rock Lobster, offers up an absurdist horror movie teen freakout the likes of which hasn’t been heard since The Horror of Party Beach offered up its radioactive sea monster stuffed with hotdogs.

Suicide (1977)

If you want to deal with it semantically, Suicide were the first “punk” band.  They were the first to use the term to describe their music. The term appears on a flyer for a 1972 gig by the group, predating any other group’s use of the term by a good 3-4 years.  Their debut LP in 1977 still stands as one of the starkest, most intense statements of electronic music ever put to vinyl.  Taking the core DNA strands of rock-a-billy shuddering and shaking, They shot them through a time tunnel into a dystopian future and demanded the world look upon the horror they had seen.  No other band could conjure as antagonistic an audience response while daring anyone to have the nerve to try and stop them, and some did.  That sense of menace and street toughness permeates every note on their debut.  It’s attitude with a capital “FUCK YOU”.  Side one shivers and bleats along like a tweaking speed freak until the epic and harrowing Frankie Teardrop gobbles up most of the second side of the album, offering one of the most terrifying vocal performances to ever appear on a rock record.  

It’s simply impossible to top that, though their second LP was a damn good try by upping the ante on songwriting and production, but the rawness of the debut and the perfection of its songs guarantee that it remained the group’s definitive statement throughout their career.  Even Alan Vega’s impressive solo career was never quite able to reach this plateau of perfection, though some titles come damn close.  

DEVO - Are We Not Men?  We Are DEVO! (1978)

DEVO not only made amazing music, they created their own sociological theory.  Inspired by the May 4, 1970 events at Kent State University, where 4 students were killed by National Guard troops, Gerry Casale and Mark Mothersbaugh conceived the idea that human civilization had reached its zenith and was now inexorably heading in reverse, like a tide withdrawing from the shore, as entropy took hold and began to dissemble all that had been created in the preceding millennia.  Indeed, since their emergence with their 1978 debut album, the events of contemporary human history have done little to disprove their thesis.  

DEVO put out a number of impressive albums over the years, and their first three offer up a pretty convincing trifecta of creative inspiration to sustain their legacy, but their first album still remains the quintessential DEVO fix for anyone looking to understand their potato.  Every facet of their philosophy is present in finely crafted, mechanically deboned perfection.  Like The B-52’s, DEVO traded in a lot of nostalgia in order to establish their premise, but framed it in language hoisted directly from the world of advertising, chosen for it’s persuasiveness and proven appeal.  At times sounding like a Roadrunner cartoon theme crossed with a carwash, DEVO dismantled the myth of corporate supremacy and capitalistic exceptionalism, exposing it’s vacuous failure to secure the welfare of humanity and, instead, enslave its people with meaningless “McJobs”, shoving poles in holes, to satisfy the oligarchic masters.  Shrouded in absurdist humour, the thrust of their critical blade was no less dulled when it sliced open the carcass of post-industrial culture.  

The Cars (1978)

While punk rock was causing a musical revolution, The Cars were paving the way for its inroads into popular culture.  The Cars debut album was the essential bridge that straddled with world of accessible top 40 rock with the veins of experimentalism and revitalization which were bubbling up from the underground.  They were the gateway drug for many a young music fan, myself included.  It was thanks to them that I started to consider seriously listening to bands like the Ramones, DEVO, Suicide and many others.  

Their debut album came off the assembly line like a shining new muscle car, loaded with features and gleaming with chrome.  It was meticulously crafted on every level, from the songwriting, to the performances to the production.  Like Ric Ocasek’s perfectly coifed ducktail, every hair was exactly in place.  It embraced the simplicity of the modern aesthetic while maintaining professional production values from the bottom of the tires to the tip of the antenna.  There’s no waste anywhere on the record, not a weak song or superfluous note.  Like the B-52’s, the Cars would also go on to have bigger hits in terms of singles, but this debut album always remained their most consistent and authentic release.

Sex Pistols - Never Mind the Bollocks (1977)

I believe that rock & roll music essentially has 3 epochs and they are hinged upon the appearances of its “holy trinity”: Elvis Presley, The Beatles and The Sex Pistols.  When you look back across the history of the genre, it’s those tentpoles which most define the major shifts in its nature and potential.  Elvis introduced it to the mainstream, The Beatles turned it into a fine art and the Sex Pistols weaponized it.  I say that because the Pistols were really the last rock band to have any significant cultural influence.  Sure, there have been trends and popular movements, but they were the last band to seem dangerous and to make the establishment quake in their boots.  Anyone who’s come along since then has been no more than a nuisance to the powers that be.  The Pistols were actually debated in Parliament and the government sought to crush them to stop them from spreading their message of revolt.  That just doesn’t happen anymore.  

Their one and only proper studio album now stands as a memorial to a precious couple of years when outrage seemed to have some influence in the world.  It’s a damn good set of songs, well written both musically and lyrically.  It says something about its time and the society that tried to silence it.  The fact it’s been commodified since then still doesn’t take away from the fact that it drew a line in the sand and we still look back at that time as a moment of epiphany and realization.  It changed the way people thought and that change keeps resonating around the world to this day.  

As trite as kids thrashing out a few chords and bellowing their angst can be, you can still see when a culture is coming of age by the point at which its youth twig to this methodology.  You can observe “punk” scenes happen in places like the middle east or Asia or Russia and see that there’s still a spirit of freedom struggling to find its voice.  It may often fail to create a distinction from Ramones style blockiness, but it does show a desire to expose the energy pent up during that time when a generation demands to be heard.

A lot of people want to push the flashpoint for punk to New York with the Ramones or Detroit with the Stooges and, while the structural elements may have been coming together in those places, they were only so much fuel without a spark.  Those bands and those scenes were only known to a tiny clique of hipsters until the Sex Pistols came along and put a match to all that kindling.  It wasn’t until Johnny Rotten snarled that he was an “antichrist” that the world perked up and took notice of that generation and it’s rage.  Others may have come sooner, but no one else struck the spark that would ignite the world. 

FILM REVIEW - OTHER PEOPLE

Wanna see a fun movie about a mom dying of cancer?  Does anyone want to see another cancer movie?  Well, if it’s the 2016 film, Other People, written and directed by SNL staff writer, Chris Kelly, then you probably do.  Kelly’s semi-autobiographical directorial debut is based on his own experiences watching his mother be taken by the disease a few years earlier.  What he manages to do with this picture, however, is to stretch the dynamics between tragedy and comedy in a way that avoids obvious tropes and steers clear of easy, maudlin melodrama.  The end result is that he pulls the tension of this thread to such a taut perfection, these slices of life twang with true authenticity and pathos throughout. 

The story takes place over the course of a single year and it is no spoiler to say that it starts with the death of the matriarch of this family and then jumps back a year to show the road to get there.  We open on the whole family in bed with the just deceased mother, fresh in their immediate grief, when the phone rings and is picked up by the answering machine.  We hear the voice of a family well-wisher, not knowing she’s just passed, trying to offer support, but getting caught up in a botched drive-thru order while the grieving family silently listens.  This perfectly sets up the dualism of the proceedings and, within that framework, it’s a series of moments held together by the inevitability of the fate which we know is on the horizon.  This isn’t a story about whether or not mom’s gonna die.  It’s about how everyone deals with this along the way and it’s not neat & tidy or designed to give you easy footholds to grip onto as some kind of “we’ll get through this” pat on the back reassurance.  It’s simply the raw experiences and responses to them which makes this a rich palette of human emotions in all their variety.  Sometimes it’s laugh-out-loud funny, sometimes the brutality of the pain just leaves you numb. 

The film stars Jesse Plemons, who is one of the most interesting young actors in mainstream cinema these days.  In this role, it dawned on me how much he reminds me of a young Philip Seymour Hoffman around the time of Boogie Nights.  Beyond the obvious physical resemblance, which made them an ideal familial pairing in The Master, it’s Plemons’ skill in bringing characters to life through the use of deftly crafted subtleties that echoes Hoffman’s ability to do the same.  Small ticks & nuances, like his neurotic nail biting in this role, help to reinforce his character in ways that seep into our perception, rather than beat you over the head with overacting dramatics.  I know Plemons primarily from Breaking Bad and Black Mirror - USS Callister.  In Breaking Bad, especially the El Camino movie, he carefully combines his boyish sense of innocence with the dead-eyed malevolence of a stalking shark, while his Black Mirror character balances a weak, bullied real-world nerd with a sadistic monster in his fantasy virtual reality.  Here, he’s an altogether more sympathetic character, filling in as the writer/director’s avatar where his character is also an SNL writer struggling to raise his profile in the industry and also not quite comfortable with his sexual identity, something which is reinforced by his father’s impenetrable denial.   Plemons works all of the angles to capture his character’s frustration and loneliness, even as he’s surrounded by family.

The other key figure in the film is Molly Shannon as the mother.  Shannon is an actual SNL alumnus and, personally, back in the day, I wasn’t always big on her work, especially the Marry Katherine Gallagher recurring character, but her recent film work has shown her to be altogether nailing it on all fronts.  Here, she’s shown in a sequence of “drop in” moments throughout the film, so her presence on screen is never too lingering, but each glimpse is powerful and Shannon imbues them all with a distinctive emotional resonance.  Whether she’s cheery or sad or desperate or stoned or exhausted or whatever the mood of the moment, she captures it in a multifaceted, dazzling clarity that communicates so much within the small windows where we see her. 

The supporting cast is also riddled with precise little performances from several notables.  June Squibb is as captivating as she always is as the grandmother.  Matt Walsh (VEEP) works his joke store fake hillbilly teeth perfectly as the obnoxious uncle.  Kerri Kenney (Reno 911) is the perfect goofy aunt.  Zach Woods (VEEP, Silicon Valley), is the ideal foil for Plemons as the estranged boyfriend who still manages to make dad uncomfortable.  Paula Pell, another SNL alumnus, pops in to offer some bad medical advise and a charlatan religious healing device.  These and many other carefully crafted guest spots are sprinkled throughout the glimpses of this family’s struggle with fatality.

Yes, it’s another terminal cancer story, but I was very surprised by how atypically it was handled and how skillfully the emotional switches were flipped without it seeming contrived or manipulative.  It just felt REAL and natural and true to life.  Having watched close friends go through this, it all felt right and reflective of the actual messy struggle, complete with all the loose ends that a prematurely terminated life has to offer. 

BLAKES’S 7 - THE WRONG SIDE OF THE TREK

I began watching Blake’s 7 on YouTube a few months ago as my regular bedtime iPad viewing, a habit I’ve been indulging in for some time now.  I find it helps me, like a bedtime story, go to sleep faster, especially if it’s an older show that’s a bit slow and not too action packed.  This show seemed to fit the bill pretty well.  It’s a BBC series which ran in the UK from 1978 to 1981 for 4 seasons of 13 episodes each.  I was surprised I’d never heard of it before coming across it on YouTube since I’m a pretty avid science fiction fan and am very familiar with most of the significant properties of the past 60 years of TV and film.  However, it must have never aired on any Canadian accessible outlet within my viewing range growing up, so it was fun discovering something unfamiliar of this vintage. 

When I began watching it, the low budget aspect of it immediately brought to mind Doctor Who of the same era, which I’d seen quite a bit of over the years, particularly in the 1980s when the classic Tom Baker shows were airing late nights on a local TV station.  The production values are pretty similar, but I was soon to discover that the major distinction between the two would turn out to be the writing style and quality.   Doctor Who is simply a better written show, with a more focused point of view.  Blake’s 7, on the other hand, while written entirely by show creator, Terry Nation, for the first season, would fall into the hands of many other writers in subsequent seasons and, even under Terry’s hand, had a certain inconsistency which would, in turns, make it either unexpected and atypical, at best, or muddled and ethically questionable, at worst. In that sense, it was a kind of anti-Star Trek.  Where that series offered a sense of hopefulness and optimism about humanity’s future, Blake’s 7 was far more cynical and tended towards a deep vein of pessimism.  This trait helped it carve out a distinctive niche in the ream of science fiction, though it often plowed these furrows without having a clear point or message to deliver in the end product.

WARNING - SERIES SPOILERS GOING FORWARD 

The series opens with the titular character, Roj Blake (Gareth Thomas), being set up in a “sting” operation where he faces trumped-up charges of conspiracy as an anti-government rebel and is sentenced to life incarceration on a far off prison planet.  While on route, his transport vessel encounters an abandoned spaceship which happens to offer the perfect getaway opportunity for Blake and a ragtag collection of various other miscreants.  It turns out this ship, which they christen “The Liberator”, is one of the most powerful battle ships in the galaxy, loaded with advanced technology such as matter teleportation (like in Star Trek) and a top notch AI.  It’s armed to the teeth, heavily fortified and faster than any pursuit ship sent by the Federation, the fascist, totalitarian Earth based government currently in control of much of the galaxy. The builders of this ship are unknown, but this band of criminals and cons somehow manages to obtain control of its systems and embarks on a campaign to undermine the Federation whenever possible.

It may look like a sophomore science project, but Orac is the most powerful AI in the galaxy!

With this setup baked into the premise, the moral ambiguity of the show was also set firmly in place.  While this cadre of outlaws purports to be some kind of interstellar “ANTIFA”, attempting to rally support for rebellion and offer aid to rebel groups opposed to the Federation, they’re also driven by entirely selfish motives, taking advantage of any and all opportunities to acquire either riches or more powerful technologies, and they’re not averse to leaving a corpse or two (or more) in their wake in order to achieve those ends.  It isn’t uncommon for the deaths of those who try to help this lot to be marked with little more than a smirk and a shrug as they move on to their next adventure. A perfect example of this is the season 4 episode, Stardrive.  The crew manage to procure a new drive system to help beef up their salvaged second ship, Scorpio, so it can outrun the Federation.  Tragically, it becomes necessary to sacrifice the drive’s inventor along the way.  Avon knowingly kicks her to the curb as she tries to install the system during an attack and, when the crew inquire as to the fate of poor Dr. Plaxton, he responds with a callous, dismissive “Who?”.  Roll credits.  On the one hand, it’s a bold response in a situation which would have been handled with far more hand wringing and consternation in another show, but it’s also damn cold blooded and it doesn’t make any excuses for that.  

Kerr Avon (Paul Darrow) was not only the most interesting character, he was usually the best dressed

The cast, which goes through a number of key changes over the duration of the series, ranges from the intriguing to the indifferent to the infuriating.  On the “intriguing” end of the scale is the previously mentioned Kerr Avon (Paul Darrow), who is ostensibly the “Spock” type character of the crew: shrewd, detached, emotionless, logical, but he’s also completely self-serving and aloof.  He’s meant to be a computer expert who was arrested for attempted fraud.  The only relationship which ever seems to pull at his heart strings is the one with his “lost love”, who only turns out to be a traitor eventually anyway.  He’s pragmatic to the extreme and has no problem leaving anyone behind, should the situation seem like cutting his losses might be the most expedient option.  He’s more like the “evil” Spock from the “mirror” universe of Star Trek in that regard.   But he’s played with some panache by Darrow who gives him a bit of style and swagger which makes him the most engaging member of the crew.  

Gareth Thomas in his final appearance as Blake

In the middling, indifferent category is the title character, Roj Blake.  Blake never seems to wear the mantle of “leader” very confidently and often completely neglects his crew when it comes to keeping them informed of his plans or intentions, something which inevitably leads to people getting in trouble or worse, killed.  This was the case with the poor, haplessly lovable lunkhead, Olag Gan (David Jackson). He meets an untimely demise in the middle of the second season (episode 5, Pressure Point) due to Blake’s poor planning.  Gan was always an underused character, however, so his sacrifice served a similar function as the death of Tasha Yar on Star Trek - The Next Generation.  It raised the stakes for the other characters and introduced a sense they were expendable.  But the fact Blake goes AWOL after the end of the second season doesn’t actually mean much for the series other than making the title something of a misnomer.  Avon manages to fill his boots quite easily and you barely blink at his disappearance.  The fact is that Gareth Thomas was so low key and lacking in charisma, he just wasn’t necessary to carry on the show.  He does show up again twice before the end of the series; once as a synthetic duplicate in a plot by the evil Servalan that accomplishes nothing, and again in the series finale, but I’ll comment on that later.  

Michael Keating as the always irritating Vila

In the “infuriating” category is Vila Restal (Michael Keating), who, along with Avon, manages to survive the duration of the series and is intended to provide comic relief and be the “Yin” to Avon’s “Yang” in the sense of being a complete fool.  Cowardly and self-indulgent, he’s mostly prone to getting pissed whenever possible and mucking up plans as a general rule.  His character is the kind you expect to see in a low-brow British sitcom, full of smug jibes and self-deprecating quips.  He’s usually the butt of jokes and insults from the other crew, but he’s not very amusing and just gets on your nerves whenever he opens his mouth to whine about something. His value only comes from his ability to finesse pretty much any locking system he encounters. If you need to get past some security or into some place or thing, he’s apparently your man.  

Josette Simon as Dayna Mellanby

The female members of the crew tend to come and go much more frequently and with much less fanfare than the male cast members.  I do appreciate the inclusion of Josette Simon as Dayna Mellanby, who brings in some much needed diversity to the cast and who’s character lands her much more on the “intriguing” end of the spectrum than most of the others.  She’s a weapons expert/inventor who enjoys putting her work to use and joined the cast for the 3rd & 4th seasons.  She’s just as morally challenged as the rest, but she’s also charming and brings a good energy to the crew.  Poor Cally  (Jan Chappell) a telepathic humanoid who joins the crew in the 4th episode of season 1, winds up dying off-camera with only a disembodied voice calling for help in the first episode of Season 4.  Jenna Stannis (Sally Knyvette) merely disappears off the show along with Blake in the season 3 premier.

Some of the many moods of the fabulous femme fatale, Servalan

Their adversaries fall into a similar spectrum, starting with the one eyed Travis, played by two different actors across the first two seasons, first by Stephen Greif and then Brian Croucher.  His hatred of Blake is obsessive, but somewhat lacking in true gravitas or justification.  He helps drive most of the conflict in the first two seasons before being usurped by someone far more fabulous.  The ever nefarious Servalan, played with drag-queen like melodrama by Jacqueline Pearce, is like an evil version of Liza Minnelli.  Servalan is always lurking behind virtually every ploy and plot to entrap our fateful “heroes” and, though they generally suspect her presence whenever circumstances lure them into some intrigue or another, that foreknowledge never seems to dissuade them from pursuing her bate, no matter how obvious the trap may appear.  Her motivations seem pretty thin as well, most of the time, but she at least flounces about with some passion for her job.  She seems to deeply relish being a bitch and murdering people at the drop of a hat.  I often wonder how villains like this manage to keep finding henchmen and allies when they’re so notoriously fickle and faithless when it comes to their collaborators.  Who would ever want to partner up with someone like this, knowing full well they’re more than likely to end up dead in the end anyway, even if things do go to plan?  

John Savident in his second appearance on the show

When it comes to guest stars, the most memorable for me was John Savident, who I know for his portrayal of the bombastic, I SAY BOMBASTIC, Fred Elliot on Coronation Street (1998-2006),  He appears in two episodes, season 2’s Trial, as a fairly nondescript judge, and season 4’s Orbit, where he plays a renegade scientist who turns out to be in league with Servalan and suffers the fate of so many of her cohorts when things don’t exactly pan out.  This second appearance lets him unleash his extravagant style which was so iconic on Corrie, though he does have to endure the most hideous hair piece in the process.  But Savident is the only significant actor I can recognize in the cast as far as guest stars go, but I’m sure that others are more known to the British viewing audience.

The Liberator ship.  Which end do you think is the front?

Stylistically, the show is riddled with bizarre and inexplicable choices.  Everything from spaceship design to costumes to props leaves you scratching your head at one thing or another, trying to fathom the creative decisions that went into arriving at that final form.  For the first three seasons, the crew operate out of the Liberator spaceship, which looks like a microphone that’s had a bunch of darts glued to it.  It’s weird looking and one gets the distinct impression that the prop department handed it to the camera crew without explaining which end was the front.  I swear it always looks like it’s flying backwards, with the pointy bits sticking out the front and the round stuff at the back.  Intuitively, I can’t help but feel like this was meant to be the other way round!  This ship gets replaced by a far less stylish craft in the final season, Scorpio, though they do get a pretty spiffy base station that would make Gerry Anderson fans perk up when they see its miniature model glory. 

Weapon, power pack and holster, a device you might mistake for a curling iron

When it comes to hand props, the “guns” on the Liberator are another strange design choice.  They look like oversized ice-pop sticks or handles from a bicycle that have been pulled off or maybe even futuristic sex toys!  They eventually get replaced by more traditional looking firearms when they have to switch to the new spaceship in the final season.  The computer systems are a bit more interesting as they offer some more thoughtful design.  Zen, on the Liberator is represented by a large, bulbous, illuminated spheroid like protrusion on the bridge of the ship, probably inspired by HAL 9000 from 2001.  Slave on the Scorpio is a bit like someone salvaged the “robot” from Lost in Space and retrofitted it into the bridge with its round, rotating sections.  Both are far more visually appealing than Orac, the portable AI which looks like an unfinished grade 10 science project.  It’s basically just an open box frame made from plexiglass with some wires clumped together inside.  All three AI systems are voiced by Peter Tuddenham, who apparently caused a bit of controversy when it became known that he was being paid more than some of the actors due to having to perform multiple roles.  But he manages to imbue each with a distinctive character, so he pulls off a bit of a Mel Blanc hat-trick.

Blake spreads his pleather wings and then there's Gan!

The wardrobe department is where the questions start piling up fast and furious, however.  Something particularly seems to go off the rails in season two as some of the most outrageous outfits appear during that season.  It seems like they couldn’t decide on a look as they all had different outfits almost every episode, though some notable recurrences did appear.  Most notorious is Blake's “puffy” shirt, the kind of thing that would have Jerry Seinfeld recoil in horror, pleading “But I don’t wanna be a pirate!”  It looks like it’s made out of cheap "pleather" and that it was recycled from an empty beanbag chair.  The sleeves are so huge, the proportions look ludicrous against Gareth Thomas’ pudgy physique.  Poor Gan got stuck with this floor length vest that looks like it was borrowed from Bea Arthur's "Maude" wardrobe.  Then there were the mysterious “Michelin” men in the season 2 episode, “Killer”, which featured some of the most misguided and ill-conceived wardrobe choices ever created for TV.  This same episode also showcases a collection of costumes seemingly made from gymnastics mats, crudely cut into triangles and draped over people’s shoulders.  The clumsy, bulky awkwardness of it all is quite astonishing to behold.  But Servalan, again and throughout the series, always shines with a collection of Las Vegas ready outfits featuring feathers and sequins that would put Cher to shame.   

Michelin Men are ready for action!

In terms of the stories, there’s a consistency to them in that the plots and ploys they concoct usually amount to naught.  This is where the “anti-Trek” theme becomes most apparent.  Whereas Star Trek offered hope and triumph over adversity and reasoned conflict resolution, Blake’s 7 offered abject failure, despondency and disappointment.  Occasionally they manage to swipe some tech like the Orac AI or the new drive system for their spaceship or even their ships themselves, but when it comes to thwarting their sworn enemy, the Federation, things usually end up back to square one with no one the better for their efforts.  In fact, it usually costs someone’s life, so the people they try to “help” often end up worse off.  The one time the Federation is dealt a crippling blow, it only comes at the hands of an alien invasion, completely disconnected from any so-called “rebel” efforts.  This invading force is never explained or explored and disappears after decimating their adversary.  Blake’s “crew” never seem to forge any meaningful relationships with effective allies and they can barely stop squabbling among themselves long enough to decide on where to take their damn ship.  

Scorpio replaced the Liberator as the ship in the 4th season

This all culminates in the series finale where, SPOILER ALERT, after 4 seasons and countless loss of life, our “heroes” triumph and… wait…  what?  Oh, they don’t triumph?  They all die?  Every one of them?  So all this effort for the entire series was for nothing and they all lose?  Well, okay then.  I suppose it was good that they brought back Blake for one more go, even though they ended up killing him too before getting binned themselves.  I mean, as series endings go, I supposed it’s better than The Sopranos.  At least it’s in character, seeing as losing has been their trademark throughout the series. 

I know it sounds a bit critical of me, but in reality, it’s what makes the show so distinctive in that it perversely refuses to follow basic tropes and trends in the genre and ends up offering something distinctive, if somewhat morally reprehensible at times.  I can’t see anyone looking at these people and thinking, “Well, that’s who I’d like to be when I grow up.”  Blake, while he was on the show, was mostly indifferent to what was going on.  Avon was only ever in it for what he could get out of it, as was Vila.  The others just went along for the ride and, as a viewer, that’s pretty much where I was with this.  I was along for the ride, just to see where this thing would end up going.  Along the way, I got some entertainment from some questionable stories, dubious special effects and often ludicrous fashions.  It didn’t fire my imagination in terms of creativity, but it kept me amused just enough to help me relax while I was in bed and trying to go to sleep, so mission accomplished I say!  

SONG TO THE SIREN - SURRENDERING TO THE SEA OF LOVE

If there is such a thing as a “perfect” song, my vote goes to Tim Buckley’s Song to the Siren as the most likely candidate.  Ever since it first entered my life in 1984, it has been a go-to piece of music whenever I’ve been gripped in the melancholy of romance.  It’s the song you want to put on whenever you’re feeling alone or when that special someone you thought was your soulmate turns out to be another lost leader.  It’s the perfect “poor me” tune or the ideal song to sink into when you’re adrift in that sea of forlorn love-sickness.  Most people who know the song are familiar with the 1983 version by This Mortal Coil, but there are a lot of other splendid versions out there too and it has something of a fascinating history, which starts with that oddball “pre-fab four”, The Monkees.

By the beginning of 1968, The Monkees had reached a point in their career where they were able to have a bit of a say in not only their own artistic direction, but in helping the careers of other artists whom they admired.  This manifested in ways like using the set on their TV show to display the work of various upcoming visual artists, bringing Jimi Hendrix to tour with them as an opening act and featuring performers on their TV show like Frank Zappa.  On what would turn out to be the final episode of the series, The Frodis Caper, director Micky Dolenz booked upcoming singer/songwriter Tim Buckley to perform on the show in his first network television appearance.

For the performance, which was recorded live and not lip-synced, as was normally done for such shows, Buckley insisted on playing a song he and his songwriting partner, Larry Beckett, had written sometime in late 1967, but hadn’t released yet.  This wasn’t a popular decision for the show’s producers because such opportunities were generally used to promote new releases or some physical product the public could go out and buy, but Tim insisted and the appearance was recorded with him debuting Song to the Siren for the world.  The episode first aired on March 25, 1968.  Not long after this, spurred by the disastrous box-office of their debut feature film, HEAD, NBC pulled the plug on the Monkees TV show and set the band adrift.

On March 4 & 5, 1968, Buckley went into the studio and recorded a version of Song to the Siren using the same basic arrangement he’d use for the Monkees TV show.  The only addition to his 12 string accompaniment was a bit of minimal electric guitar and bass.  This version, however, would never be released in Buckley’s lifetime.  It got shelved and would only ever come out years later, first in 1999 as part of an interment only collection of rarities, and then in 2001 as part of a CD retrospective collection. 

It was two years after the Monkees appearance that he re-recorded the song with a very different, more psychedelic arrangement featuring electric guitar accompaniment instead of the 12 string acoustic.  This was the version released on Buckley’s 1970 LP, Starsailor.  In addition to the updated arrangement, the lyrics were modified slightly as the line “I’m as puzzled as the oyster” didn’t sit right with Buckley and was changed to “newborn child” on the 1970 recording.  At the time of its release, Starsailor represented something of an abrupt shift in style for Buckley, veering off the “folk” trail and into more jazz & experimental territory.  As a result, the album would require some distance from its release before people would retroactively begin to appreciate his bold adventurism.  Because of that, Song to the Siren probably lost a lot of potential fans at first.  This, however, wasn’t the first version of the song to be released.

The first ever official release of the song was by Pat Boone on his 1969 album, Departure.  Boone’s interpretation completely misses the nuances of the work by treating it as if it were some kind of novelty sea shanty.  He even crudely grafted on this ridiculous “Yo-ho-ho” pirate refrain as an intro before proceeding to bluster his way through an entirely unsympathetic rendition.  As such, it was up to the original Monkees performance to buoy the song along in syndicated reruns for the next 2 decades.  The song wouldn't find its full flower until 1983.  This was when Elizabeth Fraser & Robin Guthrie of Cocteau Twins would record a version for the 4AD label’s “super-group” collaboration/compilation project, This Mortal Coil.

Fraser and Guthrie managed to finally grasp the song’s ethereal essence and translate it into a recording which immediately captures the imagination of anyone who hears it.    Fraser’s angelic voice was the perfect vehicle for the song’s mythical lyrical threads and she became the very embodiment of the “siren” from the Greek legends which inspired the song.  Her voice sounded enchanting enough to lure any number of sailors to their doom along those rocky shores.  Along with a suitably intimate and beguiling promotional video, tailor-made for the emerging MTV generation of the era, the ingredients were at last right for the song to become enshrined as a pop music touchstone.  

Since then, it has continued to build momentum as a popular standard with a multitude of cover versions snowballing with each new generation of music makers.  Since it’s re-emergence in 1983, it has received some very respectable treatments from the likes of Sheila Chandra (2001), Robert Plant (2002), Bryan Ferry (2010), Sinéad O'Connor (2010) and Dead Can Dance (2013), to mention only a few of the more notable renditions.  It’s a song that has also proven to be relatively bulletproof in terms of interpretation, at least since its butchery by Pat Boone.  It’s a song that lends itself well to a variety of vocal styles and arrangements while maintaining its ethereal beauty.

In its essence, the song comes to life thanks to the emotional resonance it generates.  It’s a kind of tension between longing and loss and a contrasting sense of hopelessness and optimism.  Thematically, the foundational concept of it is the myth of the Greek sirens, the enchanting creatures of the sea who vex sailors with a song so alluring that they are inescapably drawn to the shores where their vessels are smashed against it’s craggy rocks.  It uses this myth to weave a braid of the feelings of helplessness, anticipation and sorrow which one is possessed by when experiencing the deep passions of romance, particularly the tragic kind.  There’s a sense that love is a doomed adventure, but that it’s so beautiful that it’s worth the price of one’s own demise.  There’s a kind of surrender to the inevitable in the lyrics.  “Should I stand amid the breakers or should I lie with death my bride?”  Should I try to resist or should I give in to my doom?  “Swim to me, let me enfold you” is the act of surrender and sublimation into the inescapable nature of it all.  It’s a kind of melancholy that washes over you like the tide.

Structurally, the song has been referred to as the perfect marriage of melody and lyric and for good reason.  There’s a flow to it all that makes every movement as natural as rolling waves on the shore.  Each line and verse flows together so seamlessly that you can’t resist the current of it as it carries you along.  There’s not a wasted meter or measure in it as it has that ideal economy of an ecosystem in immaculate balance.  The tune swells and subsides as automatically as breathing.  It’s no wonder that it has become such a favorite standard for contemporary vocalists.  

For me, and for many others, the definitive rendition remains the one by This Mortal Coil as it was the one which breathed new life into the song after languishing, mostly forgotten for over two decades.  This was the first version I can recall, which is odd because I have been a huge fan of the Monkees ever since I was a toddler when the show debuted.  Yet I don’t recall Buckley’s performance from my youth and it was only when the show was revived by MTV in 1986 when I saw The Frodis Caper episode again and had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I realized where the song had originated. I have found myself returning again and again to that Monkees show performance since then.  There, in the simplicity of Tim's heartfelt rendering, with nothing but his voice and guitar, that you feel like you're witnessing the birth of an angel.  That it would end up being the “swan song” for the TV series is somehow appropriate as The Monkees became victims of their own tragic love story, lured into their own rocky shore.  But we can be thankful that this rendition has survived in these reruns for future generations to be able to witness this remarkably intimate revelation as it occurred all those years ago.

Check out my complete playlist of even more versions on YouTube.