Baseball is Theater

From 2019: But as relevant today, only some of the names have changed: 

Sports fans look at games and seasons as purely binary. For them it’s a zero sum affair. And that makes a bit of sense, after all, there has to be one winner and there must, of course, be one loser. Binary. Yin to the yang. Black and white. The entire fandom industry is built on it. From the actual games where the investment either pays off (“We’re number one!”) or doesn’t (Oh my god, we suck! Fire everybody!!) to the reporters who thrive on clicks or, in the past, sales and those, especially, are also driven by the same zero sum mentality.

We see it all the time as Mets fans. To the point where, when the team was doing poorly (Pre-All Star Break) Mets Twitter wanted the entire team sold off. Wheeler? He should go. Thor? The Press agreed and led the “sell him now while he’s good” charge. And, then, when they didn’t and the fans wanted to hoist Brodie Van Wagenen by his agent-turned-General Manager petard, the team turned it around. In a magical, almost, dare I say, “Miracle” fashion, the Mets are now in contention for a Wild Card position, something hitherto unlikely as recently as early July.

But then The Mets lost a 14 inning duel by a score of 2–1 and, of course, the Zero Sum Brigade was out for blood. Only that time it’s the trade of Hechavarria (who went 1 for 6 in that game) that has the press howling. And the dearth of offense from a mostly novice, young ball club behind the brilliant pitching of Jacob deGrom and virtually the entire rotation has them all tied up in shoulda-coulda-woulda knots.

Lost in this is that the Braves, a team that last year was made up of young-uns, is the NL east leader and they were held to 1 run for 13 innings. That doesn’t matter. Because the Mets lost. And baseball is binary.

Zero Sum.

Except that it’s not. Not by a long shot.

Because baseball is different. And the fact that fans and statisticians and pundits and reporters all want to pretend that it’s like every other sport doesn’t change the fact that it is not. It is a singularly unique game. And that’s not just because it’s the only sport where the defense has the ball. (Although, for me, dayenu, that would be enough to separate it)

Baseball isn’t basketball. It isn’t football. It isn’t any other sport no matter how fans want to try to equate them or force the baseball diamond into every other sports’s rectangle.

Baseball is theater.

And that’s where the beauty lies.

When you go to the theater are you 100% aware of the exact end time of the show? No. Because that’s impossible to know. It’s a human endeavor with pauses, mistakes, different takes, altered performances, applause breaks, laugh lines. It might end around two and a half hours in, but it might go longer. You don’t know.

Cuz there is no clock. Like Baseball. A sport with no clock.

There is an act structure to theater. Usually it’s two acts but in film, it’s three and for the purposes of this metaphor we will go with the three act structure.

When the curtain opens we meet the players. They set up their relationships which will definitely be affected by the other players and actions those players take.

The hitters see the pitcher for the first time. Maybe they get who he is right away and they are off to the races. Often, though, they are just sizing each other up. One time through the batting order. If perfect, it’s three innings. One third of the show. The first act.

It’s the second act where the characters begin to have to deal with the stresses put on the relationships. In the movies we say that in the first act you get your hero stuck up a tree. In the second you throw rocks at him. The man on the mound has been seen. Maybe he’s better understood. He’s going to have to change things up to keep his edge. Those who see him for what and who he is, his mettle, will get to him. Knock him around. Throw that rock right back at him. Act Two. Innings 4–6.

The third act is the climax. Perhaps it’s a blow out and that happens. Maybe this is a big musical with spectacle instead of surprises and twists and turns. Often, though, it’s in those last innings that underdogs come from behind and hit that massively dramatic walk-off homer or double that knocks in the winning run. Maybe it’s that closer who is lights out and shuts the door and he’s the hero that saves the day. Or he gets lit up and he’s the villain.

That’s the other thing. In a play you *think* you know who the hero is and who the villain is and that’s often true. But it’s also just as often that you don’t know who he is because events that happen in this drama can quickly change a hero into a goat and goat into a champion. A lowly .213 hitter can come up in the bottom of the 9th with two on, down by one and lace a career defining triple into the gap, scoring the winning run.

Or, take the implosion against the Nationals. In their entire history the Mets record, being up by 6 runs going into the bottom of the 9th, was something like 806–0. (Thank goodness for stats, right?) And the Nats were the inverse of this. Something like 0–700+ when down by 6 in the bottom of the 9th.

The Mets and Nats did something heretofore unheard of and the Zero Sum Brigade would have us all believe that the Mets are terrible and they are “Metsing” but amazing things happen in baseball all the time. Epic things.

Theatrical things.

Another instance…Edwin Diaz implodes on May 29th to upend the Mets 8–5 lead an LOSE 9–8 after giving up back to back home runs, load the bases and hand the Dodgers a sac fly win. Then he gives up that home run in the Nats game to Kurt Suzuki. And THEN he does it again against the Phillies when JT Realmuto homers for 2 only to see the Mets scratch back and…in epic theatrical fashion, they LOAD THE BASES in the bottom of the 9th and Pete Alonso, ROOKIE PETE ALONSO, he of the epic first season, the slugger, the freaking Polar Bear, crushes one into left, a towering shot so massive that the ball actually leaves the stadium and lands in the spot where home base used to be at Shea.

Wait…hang on…let me check my notes.

No…no…no…got it wrong.

He walked.

He walked in the winning run. He didn’t try to Mighty Casey it and hack himself into a strikeout. He did the most heroic thing he could do and walked.

Come on!

Other sports don’t do this. I mean, sure, they have their dramas and there are heroes and villains, of course, but baseball is built on being dramatic. Theater has dramatic pauses. What does baseball have? Time…

in between

…pitches…

There are those who decry the game’s methodical nature and want to speed it up. But it’s the measured pace, the space between the moments of drama that build TO the drama. They don’t mean as much if you take the pauses away. The soliloquy of Hamlet is tantamount to Jacob deGrom on the mound, bases loaded (cuz he walked a guy, dammit and then a single and that hit batsman…) and one out.

We watch as the number three hitter comes up, his bat looms like it’s made from an oak tree, no, it looks as big AS an oak tree. It’s Freddie Freeman and we NEED him to make an out and this guy doesn’t make outs. The pressure builds in the stadium in between each pitch as people young and old clasp their fingers in prayer, the announcers filling the 20+ seconds with anecdotes about how Jake thrives in moments like this, tidbits about how he bears down when faced with these situations and then…in that longest of seconds, your heart racing, he lets fly a slider that looks like a fastball and just falls away and the batter swings and he’s way over it and Freddy strikes out!

That moment doesn’t have the same heart stopping effect with a pitch clock. It’s not something you feel in the scrum of chaos when Payton Manning would take the snap.

It’s high drama.

It’s theater.

That’s what baseball is.

The moments in between.

Baseball is the art of hitting the ball where someone isn’t.

Heroes who fall from grace.

Champions who live up to the pedestal we erect for them.

That seemingly insignificant character in the background who pulls out his slingshot and slays the giant.

When we try to look at baseball as something other than the greatest sports show on earth and, instead, reduce it to stats like BABIP and FIP and WHIP and STRIP and BLIP we are trying to turn it into a sport that it is not. And this is coming from a first generation Bill James acolyte. I love sabermetrics and I think the game is better for them. But not the SHOW. Sabermetrics have turned all of fandom into armchair GMs more than just your grandfather shouting at the tv when the manager takes out an effective pitcher early. It’s become a cottage industry that has so many fans forgetting about The Show.

The New York Mets have been giving us all a show this year.

The second act of the season (Yes, seasons have act breaks as well. The All Star Game is Intermission) is building to its climax. Will they be part of Act Three, the Post-Season where a victor is crowned? To this theater/baseball fan that doesn’t matter. They’ve already give me more than my money’s worth.

Pete Alonso is the underdog story we all hoped for. He had to win that full time position and now everyone knows his name.

Jeff McNeil is the Cinderella story. Triple A a year ago, in the running for a batting title this year.

Edwin Diaz is that guy we know has it but will he find it in time who gives up the tying runs in the 9th but ends up the…winner!?!?

Robinson Cano is the wise and wizened veteran who, beat up, stayed on the bench to give sage advice to the warriors who are still on the field.

JD Davis is the cast off who found a way to make himself a huge part of the narrative.

The 2019 Mets have a dozen of these stories and I’m so grateful to them for allowing us to watch the drama unfold.

I won’t prognosticate nor will I fully resist the urge to calculate the possibility of their post season chances. I will watch each game the way I have watched baseball for 40 years.

As a member of the audience.

Thanks for the Show, guys.

The 1982 Listening Post - The 49 Americans - We Know Nonsense

 Reviewed by Tom Mott / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: 1982 The 49 Americans We Know Nonsense Genre: Faux-Naïf Avant Garde Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: Doo-Bee-Doo-Bee Edible Liberty In 1985-86, hot on the heels of Terry Gilliam's Brazil, I was flipping through bins at Rhino Records and came across a mysterious 10" EP entitled "The Melody Four? Si Señor!" The Melody Four only had three members. That was my first clue. Quirky, funny liner notes. Someone playing euphonium. DIY album art. And best of all, a cover of "Brazil." What did I end up with? Amateurish singing, lovely bizarre free-jazz saxophones, and simple "lite latin rhythms" like you'd hear from a home organ entertainment system. I loved it. And in the pre-Internet world, it remained a beguiling mystery. Nobody else knew anything about it until I met an Icelandic artist in the mid-90s who exclaimed "NAY WHOA! How do you know The Melody Four? I thought I was the only one!" That 10" was my secret treasure. Still is. Over the years I would learn that the three principals -- Steve Beresford, Lol Coxhill, and Tony Coe -- all came out of the Canterbury Scene and the London Musicians' Collective. (For reference: imagine Fred Frith or Robert Fripp putting out an album of amateurish-yet-loving latin standards.) I've never heard anything else like it. Ever. Even *other* Melody Four albums don't measure up to "The Melody Four? Si Señor!" --------------------- Until now. The 49 Americans "We Know Nonsense." Amateurish singing. Simple songs with unexpected quirks and layers. Fun "Latin lite" rhythms. There's Steve Beresford with his euphonium. There's Lol Coxhill with his mellifluous, wandering saxophone lines. There's also some toy piano, a chorus of happy singers, Viv Albertine (The Slits), Vivien Goldman ("Launderette"), and a host of other names I don't recognize. It's a DIY supergroup! There's bossa nova, samba, doo wop, surf music, a mish-mosh of genres. I adore it. The lead female vocalist (I believe it's Etta Saunders) has an absolutely beguiling voice. (Track 3 "Edible") A couple attempts at describing the sound: 1. Some seasoned avant garde musicians heard Rip Rig + Panic's first album "God," thought "ehh, far too many notes" and said "hold my beer". 2. More Specials crossed with Young Marble Giants and Marine Girls. 3. A happy backyard family sing-along, except your family happens to include Brian Eno, Ornette Coleman, and the Teletubbies. I'm in love. Not just with the music, but the overall stance/politics: Make art! Have fun! Everyone has something to contribute! I just ordered the album. ------------------- P.S. Andrew "Giblet" Brenner, the main force behind this album, went on to be the story editor of Thomas & Friends (i.e. Thomas the Tank Engine) for 10 years. Lol Coxhill and Steve Beresford have both put out tons of recordings over the past 30 years that are worth dipping your toes in.

The 1982 Listening Post - Teenage Head - Some Kinda Fun

 Reviewed by Geo Rule / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: 1982 Teenage Head Some Kinda Fun Genre: Rockabilly With ‘80s ‘Tude Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: (umm, all of it) Kick-Ass Cover: “Some Kinda Fun” What, all it takes is a couple concert riots and a naughty sophomore kind of band name to get yourself labeled as “Punk” in Canada? Are they that nice up there? I guess so. Teenage Head was a Canadian group of the early ‘80s that did quite well north of the border, but as much as anything American parents hang-ups over the band name limited their US presence. They finally got an American label for the album after this one, but were forced to change their name for US purposes to “Teenage Heads” to mollify the parents of teenage daughters. Fun historical fact: The age of consent in Canada at the time was 14 (and would remain so until 2008), so by local standards while naughty, it wasn’t necessarily the kind of “San Quentin Quail” (to use a phrase from my California youth, where to this day the age of consent remains at 18) situation many Americans perceived. I know I’m not a Punk afficionado, but these guys can play their instruments quite well, the lead singer can sing, there’s little sign of politics, or general screw authority, here ... just the teenage holy trinity –sex, drugs (or more accurately, beer), and rock ‘n roll. Sure, this is the kind of music your parents were afraid you were listening to, but “Punk” I just don’t get. “Some Kinda Fun” (which I actually listened to first, before streaming the whole album) is a cover of a Chris Montez song from 1962. Chris’ first hit is one you’ll all remember, “Let’s Dance”. This was his second release, and was a minor hit. The Teenage Head version replaces the original organ melody with driving guitar, and yes, it kicks all kinda ass. Being introduced to Teenage Head through that song, certainly bent me –hard—towards an initial “Modern Eddie Cochran” kind of assessment. As I listened to the rest of the album in order, there wasn’t as much of that sensibility, tho it could be detected here and there ... until I got to “Don’t Toy With Me”, which if Jerry Lee Lewis and Eddie C. ever did a collab, that’s what it’d sound like. So I’ll stick with my assessment, yes there’s certainly modern elements here, and naughtier lyrics than one could have gotten away with in the early 60s, but at heart I’m still hearing modern rockabilly with the usual concerns –getting laid, and getting drunk. Punk, not so much. I loved, loved, loved this album, and now I’ll have to go back and listen to the first two as well.

The 1982 Listening Post - SPK (AKA Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv) - Leichenschrei

 Reviewed by Jim Coursey / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: 1982 SPK (AKA Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv) Leichenschrei Genre: Industrial Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: Genetik Transmission Post - Mortem “I think industrial music should have stopped completely after SPK made ‘Leichenschrei’ because that was the ultimate, it was a brilliant album that nobody could make a better, more definitive work in industrial music.” - Edward Ka-Spel of the Legendary Pink Dots. [1] With a title roughly translating to “Corpse Scream”, “Leichenschrei” is a deeply unsettling album, constructed out of abstract noise, pounding drums, metallic thumps, and occasional vocals and voice recordings which are more often than not indecipherable. The bits of recorded speech which can be made out more clearly are generally medical or sexual in nature, peppered with a sense of paranoia, and delivered with an almost clinical lack of emotion as if reading a journal entry for the sake of a court appearance. [2] The more emotive vocalizations are mostly incoherent; “Despair” features a brief duet between muffled male vocals and orgasmic female shrieks, while “Agony of the Plasma” is anchored by the rhythm of a looped scream. Heavy use of echo gives the album the feeling of being recorded in a cave or under water, and sparse use of synths and guitars round out the sound. What surprised me about “Leichenschrei” is how thoroughly composed it sounds. Little about it is conventionally musical, but the various elements are clearly assembled with an ear for thematic development. Unlike a lot of true industrial/noise music, the result feels neither arbitrary nor improvised. Unsurprisingly, founder Graeme Revell would go on to work as a soundtrack composer in the 90s; the roots are clear here, somewhat more structured and dramatic than the Eraserhead soundtrack but equally noisy. The more atmospheric material on the first side is especially affecting though. If I have a complaint, it does get a bit tedious towards the more savage second side – I would have appreciated an occasional change of tone or texture at some point before returning to the horror. Album closer “Maladia Europa (The European Sickness)" hints at this with a snippet of choral music before returning to the sonic onslaught, but it is too brief to provide true respite. Props to SPK for their consistency though. While I was trolling a bit with the Ka-spel quote (to be fair, this is lifted from the Wikipedia page for this album, so how could I not include it?), I do think this album is a high water mark for industrial music, reflected in my rating. Not the Nine Inch Nails / Nettwerk / Wax Trax blend of hardcore, goth and electro that passed as industrial music in the later 80s (a style which SPK transitioned to as early as 1984). But it ranks with the best of the original industrial sound heard in Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire, and Einstürzende Neubauten. I didn’t call it out as a “discovery” – SPK was well known within a certain crowd – but as someone who was somewhat familiar with their glossier dance music and had only read about earlier work, it was certainly a pleasantly unpleasant revelation for me. Should others listen to it? It really depends on how strong one’s stomach is, how narrowly one defines “music”, and what one is looking for from an album. While I think the album “Leichenschrei” is artistically very successful, it’s not so much an album to enjoy as to experience. If I were to have listened to this in a non-committal way – “hmm, maybe I’ll listen to this now, I dunno…” I would probably be off of it within a minute. To appreciate this album, it’s better to simply commit a period of time – even 10 minutes for the faint of heart – close your eyes and really listen. Or just choose this as the soundtrack to your next Halloween haunted house display. (Putting it on for a dinner party would be out of the question unless you’re trying to shed some guests.) At any rate, it may appeal to people who are interested in the music of Throbbing Gristle, early Cabaret Voltaire, musique concrete, and Karlheinz Stockhausen. I heard enough new elements with each listen that I don’t regret the 40 minutes (times three) I gave to it, and would listen to it again someday, but it’s not the kind of album I would keep in heavy rotation. ********** 1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leichenschrei 2. As an example, one audible snippet of rather dryly intoned female speech includes the line, “The manager of the corporation tried to give me syphilis by wiping his cock on my sandwich.”

The 1982 Listening Post - Solid Space - Space Museum

 Reviewed by Jim Coursey / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: 1982 Solid Space Space Museum Genre: Minimal Wave Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: (*** = the best of the best): Destination Moon A Darkness In My Soul *** Tenth Planet ***“ Earthshock Contemplation *** Please Don’t Fade Away “It’s definitely a moment in time. It’s two kids of 17/18 in a garden shed in Romford in Essex […], it’s a lot of spirit and a lot of naivety and innocence. That is the charm …” - Dan Goldstein, Solid Space [1] I first heard “Space Museum” – the one and only Solid Space album (cassette) – a decade or so ago, probably on some music blog or other. I was immediately taken with their somewhat gloomy space-obsessed songs that are leavened by the duo’s modest sound – a combination of rock instruments with rudimentary drum machines and synths, all sounding like a bedroom production. It’s the kind of album that uses modest tools to make something unexpected, finding the right balance between amateurishness, aspiration, and luck. Consciously or not, the duo hews to the words of Brian Eno: “Regard your limitations as secret strengths. Or as constraints that you can make use of.” [2] While two Doctor Who fanboys interweaving teenage ruminations with 60s British sci fi might not sound like the makings of a classic [3], it's hard not to get lost in the moment. Rather than write songs for whatever instruments or skills they *want* to have (imagine writing Led Zeppelin songs when all you have is a cheap drum machine), Sonic Space put together a set of songs that are built for the band they actually have. And it works. The album sets expectations from the outset, thanks to affable opening instrumental “Afghan Dance” with its chintzy, Cluster-like synths and rhythm box beat. Through the rest of the album they add vocals, guitars, bass and even woodwinds to the mix, but the rudimentary synth and drum machine combo remains essential to their sound. The album lifts off properly with “Destination Moon”, a wistfully atmospheric new wave cut. One of the most distinctive features of the song is the acoustic guitar playing the bass part – apparently the real bass was left at home the day of the recording session. [4] But maybe this was for the best. I’d argue a real bass would have been too heavy handed here, because the light touch of the acoustic guitar feels right at home next to that early 80s rhythm box. Can I pause to gripe about the sequencing though? While Solid Space’s choices are largely validated by Spotify stream data, the album feels unnecessarily backloaded to me. Case in point, their best and most popular track – million streamer "Tenth Planet" – doesn't rear its head til the middle of side B. I resequenced it for them – I'll drop my playlist in the comments in case anyone would rather start there. “A Darkness In My Soul” kicks off the better second side with the most inventive production work on the album. True to the title, the track leans a bit dark and gothy, withs swirly synths and reverb-drenched vocals offset by jangly acoustic guitar and a peppy beat. The vocal production makes the most of whatever gear they had at hand, with a constantly evolving collection of reverb treatments smartly accenting the choruses. The song makes perhaps the best case for the tone of the album, where the somewhat gloomy lyrical content could easily take a turn for the embarrassing with a more melodramatic, Bauhaus-like delivery. Instead it comes off as earnest teenage self-reflection. With the album nearly complete, “Tenth Planet” and “Contemplation” finally deliver the hooks that we’ve been waiting for. After an uncharacteristic perky intro, “Tenth Planet” sounds like one of those songs from the transitional period between Joy Division and New Order, while being a good bit better and more upbeat than most of “Movement.” Meanwhile, the bouncy synth clav of “Contemplation” is offset by the angst-ridden lyrics and yearning Andy MacKay-like clarinet for another hidden gem. If they ever fail Eno's dictum, it's on the sloppy funk of "New Statue." It's a catchy enough song, but the "snare drum" player gets lost too often and it's begging for a bigger, better band behind it. (I can imagine the Fall doing a ripping cover of it.) Somehow they stick with it for over five minutes, their longest track. Keep it simple guys! The end result sounds like a midpoint between In Phaze labelmates Marine Girls and (yes) The Legendary Pink Dots, while generally not sounding like either. Though relegated to a marginal cassette-only release in 1982, the album quietly built up enough of a cult following years later, eventually leading to a vinyl rerelease on Dark Entries in 2017. The band apparently moved on to their respective professional lives and barely looked back. Maybe they would have never been the next big thing, even if circumstances were right. But they perfectly capture that teenage moment when a world of possibilities is within your reach – it’s just a moonshot away. ********** 1. https://ifonlyuk.com/moment-time-looking-back-solid.../ 2, 4. https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/1195.Brian_Eno; see also, “Honor your mistake as a hidden intention.” 3. If an album inspired by Doctor Who seems goofy, remember how much mileage Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath got out of Tolkein.

The 1982 Listening Post - Bow Wow - Warning From Stardust

 Reviewed by Matthew M Tracksler / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: September 1982 Bow Wow Warning From Stardust Genre: Hanso Steel Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: (all of them) (Special Guest Review!) What I wrote down while listening ... Kiss Should've sounded like this. How did I miss this? Keep picturing SLam but also a Joey Ramone/Mick Mars image. Lots of smoke and pyro in my mind. Still havent looked at what they look like. Every jam is a banger and ahead of its time in a sense. Sick solos. Song 4 starts with a SOLO! If Japan had a New Jersey section, this would be playing nonstop.

The 1982 Listening Post - A Flock of Seagulls - A Flock of Seagulls

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: April 30 1982 A Flock Of Seagulls A Flock Of Seagulls (U.S. version) Genre: Tweets Against The Machine Allen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Chris’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: I Ran (So Far Away) Space Age Love Song Telecommunication Modern Love Is Automatic D.N.A. Previous to hearing A Flock of Seagulls self-titled debut, everything I knew about the band was based on their video for “I Ran (So Far Away).” I’d pinned the whole of their success on their weird band name and vocalist Mike Score’s even weirder Hawkman-styled hair. Jules Winnfield (Samuel Jackson) cemented my assessment in Pulp Fiction. And watching the video again? Wow, it’s low budget. Even for 1982, it looks cheap. But A Flock of Seagulls, the album, does not feel cheap, and the weirdness is more than welcome. The album is great fun and sounds fantastic. I read online that Phil Spector was a fan, and some critics compared the album’s sonics to the Wall of Sound. I don’t know about that, but for me, it worked. A Flock of Seagull’s multi-layered synth effects (you’ve heard them on “I Ran”… that freaky alien opening!) provide the lush foundation for a science-fiction synth pop masterpiece of 80’s technophobia: loaded with AI romance, femme-bots, flying saucers hiding in the clouds, alien codes, assimilation and annihilation. My favorite track is the lovely and disarming “A Space Age Love Song” (which made the US charts as a single, and still pops up on New Wave playlists). It follows opener “I Ran.” Gorgeous, sweet, and hiding the science-fiction in plain sight (the title). I could try to convince you that the lines, “I saw your eyes/And you touched my mind,” are not about falling in love at all; the girl in THIS “love” song has brain-powers, and “she” (it’s the same girl on the avenue with auburn hair and tawny eyes of “I Ran”) is not to be trusted—she’s not even human! But it’s too late for that. By the third song, “You Can Run,” we’re in full Battlestar Galactica mode, wondering if Mike Score might even be a Cylon. It would perhaps explain the hair. I also loved the 1-2 punch of Side B. First, there’s “Telecommúnication,” which opens like Depeche Mode played on a broken Fisher-Price piano, but transforms into a propulsive, snappy dance single. That’s followed by the harrowing first minutes of “Modern Love Is Automatic.” A lost classic from AFOS’ 1981 debut EP, it’s about the forbidden love between a robot (the “automatics”) and an alien, of course. A “science fiction” concept album might seem too scary, don’t worry—there’s no twenty-minute “it’s full of stars” prog wanking. AFOS is 100% soylent green with no bi-products. Even the ninth track instrumental, “DNA,” is a showcase for AFOS talents (so much so that it won them a Grammy). The longest song is the closing dirge, “Man Made,” which clocks in under six minutes. It’s pretty much the opening scrawl from The Terminator set to music. Album cover digression. Brightly colored and oddly rendered (plus a little dated), at first glance, I found it off putting. I now see it’s tied into the concept, and it keeps me looking. I sort of wondered if the four seagulls were added at the record company’s request, but I noticed they’re also on the band’s latest work, Ascension. [1] I was hoping to get my hands on a vinyl copy, mostly to check out the back cover and sleeve and search for additional alien/robot secrets. In an even greater digression (and as some of you may already know), my favorite album from 2019 was Blood Incantation’s “Hidden History of the Human Race,” also a science-fiction themed masterpiece, but caution—it’s death metal instead of new wave. The Blood Incantation vinyl package is insane—50s vintage cover (by Bruce Pennington, no less) but also a faux xeroxed leaflet/zine that would convince even Agent Scully that the truth is out there. I imagine the Seagulls would approve. ********** 1. A 2018 album, where the original four bandmates play their biggest hits (including all the highlights listed above) along with Prague Philharmonic. I enjoyed the grandiose performance as a momentary distraction, if you like AFOS it’s worth at least one listen.

The 1982 Listening Post - Yazoo (AKA Yaz) - Upstairs at Eric's

 Reviewed by Tom Mott

Released: August 20 1982 Yazoo (AKA Yaz) Upstairs At Eric's Genre: Now This Is What I Call Synthpop Allen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Tom’s Rating: 4.7 out of 5 Highlights: Don't Go Bad Connection Midnight Only You Situation Bring Your Love Down (Didn't I) JOHN FREEMAN (THE QUIETUS): In 1982, at my rundown grammar school in a grey suburb of Manchester, musical battle lines had been drawn - you either liked Japan or The Human League. You couldn't like both and had to display an allegiance. Soft Cell were a tad too edgy and The Smiths were still a few months away. Then, in the springtime, a single was released that comfortably straddled the great divide. Every last one of us loved 'Only You' by Yazoo. While the electronics were familiar, the stark ballad offered something very different – soul. ALISON MOYET: Vince called me up and said he had a song, would I like to go and demo it for him? He played me 'Only You'. I had a very quick musical memory then and just sang it into his tape recorder. He called me up a week later saying he'd played it to the record company and they thought we should record it. So we recorded it, and when they heard that they said we should make it into a single so tried to find some b-sides. Vince had written 'Don't Go' but that was too good for a b-side so then we wrote 'Situation' together. VINCE CLARKE: We just came together and it was a bit of a mish-mash really. ALISON MOYET: Everything we did at that time just seemed to spark - it just kind of worked. I don't think Vince ever intended to start a band with me, that wasn't what he was looking for. TOM: I hear a strong connection to the past -- skipping back past Kraftwerk, OMD, Gary Numan, Ultravox, and even Giorgio Moroder -- to the early bubbly 70s synth pop sounds of Wendy Carlos (Switched on Bach) and Perry & Kingsley (Popcorn, Baroque Hoedown). Back to what I call the "bleep blorp" school of electronic music. Listen to Don't Go around 1:16 -- that's straight up Hot Butter doing "Popcorn"! VINCE CLARKE: Part of the charm of that album is a naivety. We'd make one sound and we'd think it was great and just stop there and wouldn't make any more sounds. ALISON MOYET: We had this strange studio relationship where he would bring a song to me or I would bring a song to him and he would do what he did without asking me anything and I would do what I did without asking him anything... there was no conversation. VINCE CLARKE: Other than [Only You], my favourite would be 'Midnight', a song that Alison wrote. She had it already and at the time I thought it was a real challenge to orchestrate and write music for. ONLINE REVIEWER: What reviewers often overlook is the strength of Moyet's compositional contributions which sometimes match Clarke's for sheer skill, and frequently outstrips them in the emotional stakes. ALISON MOYET: if you'd have heard 'Don't Go' when Vince first played it to me it was a very straight melody much in the way of 'Just Can't Get Enough'. Those turns in the melody in the final version were things that I brought to it from my own sense of playing R&B. DAVID JEFFRIES: While Speak and Spell is, by far, the more consistent record, Upstairs at Eric's is wholly more satisfying, and is light years ahead in emotion. TOM: Clarke gets heralded as a genius more frequently, but Moyet's songwriting equals his, and it's the juxtaposition of her voice and her vocal delivery with his synth sounds and uncluttered arrangements that make it work. She's brilliant. As is he. There's only one dud on the album -- his experimental voice collage (Track 4). Given this is the product of two 20 year olds who barely knew each other experimenting in the studio, it's entirely forgivable. A FRIEND: CLASSIC!!! JIM COURSEY: Formative, yes. A FRIEND: It would be nice to get stoned and listen to the whole thing in a comfortable, dark room. ONLINE REVIEWER: Among the best three albums ever. ONLINE REVIEWER: A masterpiece. That two 20 year old kids could write and record this in itself is amazing. 1982 PHILADELPHIA ENQUIRER REVIEW: This group is even more pretentious than most. Yuk. 1 star rating.

The 1982 Listening Post - R.E.M. - Chronic Town

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: August 24 1982 R.E.M. Chronic Town (E.P.) Genre: Southern Gothic Allen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Chris’ Rating: 4.8 out of 5 Highlights: Wolves, Lower Gardening At Night Carnival Of Sorts (Box Cars) 1,000,000 Allen's Additional Highlights: Stumble For 1982, Chronic Town was very weird. It’s a rock record with no crazy guitar solos and no synthesizers, but all kinds of sonic twiddling, jangles and mumblemouths. It had no place except with confused college kids. I didn’t even try to like R.E.M. until my freshman year of college when “The One I Love” was inescapable. “Fall On Me” and “Superman” were cool songs but LPs like Reckoning and Fables of The Reconstruction were slow going, mostly due to the incomprehensible lyrics and Michael Stipe’s funky voice. When I finally got to it, the Chronic Town EP was just the last five songs on my Dead Letter Office rarities CD (and are listed in the wrong order). R.E.M.’s legacy and history could easily crush those five songs, so I’m going to keep my review focused (and EP length.) [1] One weekend, hot off the minor success of the Hib-Tone single “Radio Free Europe,” R.E.M., in their early 20s, recorded and mixed a handful of new songs with producer Mitch Easter. Not yet signed to IRS Records, these recordings show that R.E.M.’s classic sound was there at the start. To say this sound was a success is an understatement [2] as they’d stick with this formula for more than a decade (until 1994’s stylistic shift on their ninth LP, Monster). In ’82, R.E.M.’s world may have included shiny happy people holding hands, but more notable is the darkness on the edge of Chronic Town. Something just below the surface of Peter Buck’s sunny Rickenbacker. It’s in Easter’s layering of sounds, and Stipe’s words that you understand but don’t add up. Dig in, feel the dirt, peel back the layers, and you’ll see; Chronic Town is a suburb of Twin Peaks. First encounter is “Wolves, Lower.” Buck’s 12-string guitar and the vocal harmonies are more ringing Byrd-calls than howls, but be warned. When the anxious chorus of “suspicion yourself, suspicion yourself” is joined at the break by a backwards cacophony, it’s purely Tippi Hedren crossing Bodega Bay. Next is “Gardening At Night,” which R.E.M. performed at their induction into the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. A lovely melody, but within it swarms psychedelia, softer mumbles, buried loops and other sonic treasures; it’s a great headphones song for those who walk unafraid. (R.E.M.’s publishing company is Night Gardening, and they will also engage in night swimming in a few years. Bill Berry claims the song was inspired by taking a leak on a road trip at night.) The A (“Chronic Town”) side wraps up with one of my favorite R.E.M. songs, “Carnival of Sorts (Box Cars).” Part of my love for this song is that it’s slightly more decodable, with a carnival music intro and references to an audience of gentlemen, but this is more Todd Browning than Circus Vargas. What the hell is a “reaping wheel?” With “torn edges” and “secrets” augmented by a frantic pace, strange clicking sounds and Stipes final echoey howls, I suspect some Bauhaus records made to Athens. The B (“Poster Torn”) side begins with the aggressive “1,000,000,” perhaps the catchiest and most straightforward song here. I’m unsure if “I could live a million years” is about an optimistic vampire, but with more references to graves, tombs and marker stones, plus the stryga gargoyle on the EP cover is all the closet-goth confirmation I need. The EP ends with “Stumble,” which at this point, I think it’s fair to say is about some local hipster zombies who need to find the business end of Michonne’s katana. At almost six minutes, and with a hallmark Stipe monologue, I’m almost ready to hop on a boxcar myself. But with more highlights than my dentist’s office, this EP is as essential as it is weird and dark. ********** 1. I had in mind, a Yelp-style review of my local Chronic Town dispensary, but the sour Space Gems kicked in and I spent a couple hours eating Pringles and watching The Regular Show. 2. In 1996, R.E.M. signed a five-album, $80 million-dollar deal with Warner Bros. At the time, it was the largest recording contract ever awarded. Those five albums are: Up, Reveal, Around The Sun, Accelerate and Collapse Into Now. Prophetic titles.

The 1982 Listening Post - Sparks - Angst in My Pants

 Reviewed by Stephen Romone Lewis

Released: March 29 1982 Sparks Angst In My Pants Genre: Pop New Wave Allen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Stephen’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Highlights: Angst In My Pants I Predict Mickey Mouse Moustache Instant Weight Loss Sparks tickle my soul. So, it hurts me existentially that they are not embraced by everyone who loves pop. I understand why reggae fans and polka fans don’t flock to them, but if you’ve ever tapped your foot, even accidentally, to John Mayor, Nickleback or Beyonce WHY DO YOU SHUN SPARKS!? I have 3 theories. One: Russell Mael’s squeally, multi-octave voice is an acquired taste (a musical anchovy). Two: You are turned off by the lyrics. I guess that for SOME people only vague, lovey-dovey pap passes as pop and all other subject matters are instantly regarded as novelty. Three: you’re a fucking moron. Angst in My Pants is eleven tracks of pure, ass-wiggling pop. Yes the lyrical subjects are unconventional: the joy of having a moustache, a sentient cigarette, Tarzan and Jane, Sherlock Holmes, but every tune will stick in your head. Haven’t you heard enough dopey love songs? Come on give a tune about the world’s worst Nostradamus impersonator (Nostra-dumb-ass) a chance. “I predict, Lassie will prove that Elvis and her had a fleeting affair.” One soul tickling thing about Sparks is that they are still actively working and creating. The world seems slightly less post-apocalyptic when I see people a decade older than me putting out inventive and addictive music. It gives me hope. This year Russell and Ron Mael’s (Sparks) film musical, Annette, premiered at Cannes, and their album A Steady Drip, Drip Drip was the only good thing about 2020 besides not having to leave my house. They have 26 albums dating back to 1971 including a collaboration with Franz Ferdinand. I don’t love each one, their work with Giorgio Moroder leaves me cold, but when they set out to write a pop tune, I can’t unhear it (in a good way). Haters, give them a chance. And LONG LIVE ROCK-N-ROLL! Memo to ukulele players: “Moustache” is super easy and fun to play. Only 3 chords C, F and G.

The 1982 Listening Post - Pink Flamingos (AKA Dave McArtney & The Pink Flamingos) - We Never Close

 Reviewed by Paul J Zickler / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: 1982 Pink Flamingos (AKA Dave McArtney & The Pink Flamingos) We Never Close Genre: NZ Pop Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Paul’s Rating: 4.25 out of 5 Paul's Highlights: Just Like In The Movies We Never Close Proserpine Allen's Additional Highlights: Voodoo Another band with a ubiquitous name, this iteration of The Pink Flamingos were fronted by Dave McArtney, a Kiwi pop craftsman and soundtrack composer whose first band, Hello Sailor, were a beloved on-again/off-again act in New Zealand for three decades. Pink Flamingos appears to have been Dave’s shot at the big time, as they signed with Polygram Australia and relocated to Sydney. Alas, superstardom was not forthcoming, and after three records, McArtney went home to Auckland, eventually teaching at the Music & Audio Institute of New Zealand for the last 10 years of his life. There are echoes of familiar late 70s pop here, but I hesitate to use any names, since the associations most of the Listening Post fam would make might not be very positive. Besides, any music from down under is going to have its own spin on things. Let’s try this: imagine an affable, clever Michael McDonald or a sincere, non-boring Rupert Holmes. Now add a dash of Costello/Brothers Finn creativity, a dollop of Beatles influence and you’ve got a potentially potent mix. Unfortunately the production mostly buries the guitars behind a sterile rhythm section and only occasionally lets the chunky piano and tasteful synth melodies emerge to carry the day. These are finely written pop tunes with inventive turns of phrase, sung quite nicely for the most part. There’s some weird panting/growling in “Voodoo,” and the ballad “Girl” stretches McArtney’s vocal skills a bit with its emotive chorus and plaintive high notes, but for the most part he knows his strengths and plays to them. “Just Like in the Movies” is a gem and probably should have been a hit beyond the southern hemisphere. The lovely “Proserpine” dives deeply into McArtney’s near-namesake, opening with Ticket to Ride drums, throwing in staccato piano chords, and panning multiple sound effects behind an international tale of lost love. The title track, “We Never Close” really could have fit on a Squeeze album, albeit with a different arrangement. I should also point out that, if you’re going to call your band Pink Flamingos, you’d damn well better write a song named “Divine.” And they did. The only major misstep is an odd ode to Pompeii called “Believe in the Ruins,” which alternates falsetto with off kilter guitar bursts and a near-Day Tripper riff, ending with a bit of indecipherable spoken narration. Points for experimentation, I guess. The last track, “Too Shy” tries to throw a bit of ska/two-tone rhythm in, but these musicians simply do not have it, and the heavy handed production doesn’t help. Nor does the fake Jamaican accent of the bridge. Still, the failed attempts at stepping out of their lane only reinforce how solid they were staying in that lane. Ultimately, Dave McArtney could have fit in somewhere on that long continuum from Buddy Holly through Ray Davies to Andy Partridge and Chris Stamey. Maybe in New Zealand he did. I just wish we had a better produced sample of what he and his bandmates were able to do. (Allen’s note: I am in measured agreement on this. New Zealand has been a treasure trove of excellent rock & new wave on this project. This is no exception. I imagine it’s as difficult to get to the US from NZ in 1982 as it was from Australia. Perhaps more so because we were able to hear Midnight Oil and Rick Springfield and AC/DC and Split Enz. But if you want to hear good Indie Rock from New Zealand from today I direct you to the excellent band The Beths whose first two records I really enjoyed and are releasing their third in September.)

The 1982 Listening Post - Night Ranger - Dawn Patrol

 Reviewed by Thom Bowers

Released: November 1 1982 Night Ranger Dawn Patrol Genre: Hair Metal Icing Over A Musically Multitasking Cake Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Thom's Rating 4.25 out of 5 Highlights: Don't Tell Me You Love Me Sing Me Away Call My Name Penny I came to Night Ranger [1] backwards, through my Damn Yankees fandom in the early 90s. Jack Blades is a marvelously fun frontman, and the DY treatment of a handful of his tunes got me interested enough to check out the back catalog, where I found many a gem. I knew about them already, of course. "Sister Christian" was inescapable on MTV and AM radio. And as a hard rock devotee in the later 80s, I was always on the lookout for impressive guitar pyrotechnics, which these guys certainly had in spades. But beyond the hammer-ons and hairdos, they didn't seem to be cut from the same cloth as the rest of that crowd. They came across ... older, I guess? Which they certainly were, if only by a few years, but the music felt that way, too. The bombastic guitar leads seemed more based in ornamentation than composition. The singers had earthier, huskier voices than the popular power tenors of the times. Like The Police pretending to be punks, the band's marketing and their actual vibe weren't quite in sync. Which didn't make the tunes any less enjoyable, it was just ... odd. When you consider how many hats the core three members of the band - Jack Blades (bass/vox), Kelly Keaggy (drums/vox) and Brad Gillis (guitar) - wore throughout their musical partnership prior to forming Ranger* 1980 with guitarist Jeff Watson and keyboard player Alan Fitzgerald, it makes more sense. Fine players all, but whether dabbling in Clinton-esque funk with Rubicon, or taking a stab at Cars-ish new wave in Stereo, they seemed to have trouble deciding on a collective identity. Songwriters whose strongest work most closely resembled 70s AOR but missed that boat by thiiiiis much, and didn't know how best to employ their talents going forward. Maybe Gillis's stint as Ozzy Osbourne's lead guitarist put the lightbulb over their heads? Dunno. You can hear vestiges of that journey in Dawn Patrol's track list. "Eddie's Comin' Out Tonight" has the spooky shred of something Gillis might have played with Ozzy, while "Penny" verges on Springfieldian power-pop. The rogue synth in "At Night She Sleeps" cuts against the stock guitar grain in a way that hints with maybe a few different knob tweaks, it could have been a Duran Duran or Thompson Twins song. "Call My Name" has the same core elements that would define their big radio ballads to come, but employs them in a shaggier, indulgent, almost art-rocky way. The big hits are, well, the big hits. Well constructed, catchy and confident as heck. "Don't Tell Me You Love Me" in particular gets a lot of mileage out of its turbo charged Hotel California chorus, with Gillis and Watson making a formidable fretboard team: speedy and melodic, powerful and poppy, each with a distinct style and tone that simultaneously complements and competes. Sing Me Away's relatively aggressive verses give way to a gentler chorus that somehow doesn't let the energy down as a result. Nice trick if you can pull it off, and not nearly as easy as they make it sound. The whole record is full of these fun little incongruities, colorful pops of personality that keep me coming back all these years later. Even the lesser offerings have hooks that, while not as memorable, certainly don't wear out their welcome for the duration of the tune. Dawn Patrol may be neither fish nor fowl at times, but it's darned tasty all the same. ********** 1. The "Night" was added at the last minute, when the band got slapped with a copyright lawsuit from a country band called Ranger just prior to Dawn Patrol's release. Rumors persist of advance pressings of the album floating around with the old name/logo printed on the sleeve.

The 1982 Listening Post - Asia - Asia

 Reviewed by Stephen Romone Lewis

Released: March 18 1982 Asia Asia Genre: Pop Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Stephen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Highlights: Heat Of The Moment Only Time Will Tell One Step Closer Here Comes The Feeling Prog rock is like Taco Bell. People either love it or they hate it. Also, Taco Bell uses only 7 ingredients but has 30,000 menu items and prog rock uses only 7 guys but has 30,000 bands. As of 10/1/21 the 4 original members of Asia have collectively played in 46 of those 30,000 bands. They paid dues with prog-rock powerhouses Yes, ELP and King Crimson, as well as, The Buggles, Roxy Music, and The Crazy World of Arthur Brown. If you hate prog rock then you will love Asia’s eponymous debut because this is the “prog” album that nearly killed prog. How? With hits. Legit hits like “Only Time Will Tell” and “Heat of the Moment” and the AOR hit “One Step Closer”. I don’t mind prog bands having hits. Genesis went pop and had a lucrative, and well deserved, post Peter Gabriel career. A year after Asia hit the charts, Yes reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 with “Owner of a Lonely Heart”. I could not be happier about that. My problem with Asia having hits is: hits make money and, sing it with me now, “Money changes everything!” Geffen record executives put many Colombian drug lord’s children through college on the success of “Heat of the Moment”. Non-Geffen record executives like cocaine too. They called all the prog bands on their rosters and demanded hits. “No more 15 part 40 minute songs! No more songs with incomprehensible titles. No more rocking out on classical music. No more songs with gong solos!” Once the industry got it stuck in their pinheads that prog bands could actually make them money and not just earn them a little prestige, things got tough for prog bands. According to Wikipedia’s Timeline of Progressive Rock there were 48 progressive albums released worldwide in 1980. That number dropped to 36 the year after Asia’s debut and then wallowed in the low 30s for a decade. The bean-counters couldn’t take the odd time signatures away from King Crimson, but they could keep prog from reaching the pressing plant. I don’t blame Asia for that. I’ve heard it suggested that John Wetton, Steve Howe, Geoff Downes and Carl Palmer made a calculated effort to go commercial. I doubt it. Except for “Heat of the Moment” all the songs on their debut are longer than four minutes: a pop radio programmer’s no no. And, if they could just conjure up hits by force of will, wouldn’t they have done it again. Asia went on to have the same number of chart toppers as Captain Beefheart and G. G. Allen. I’m thinking the success of the album Asia by Asia was a fluke. So how does Asia’s debut sound? Great! The first side is a collection of poppy tunes tinged with clever musical flourishes like Carl Palmer’s stuttering drums in the fade out to “Heat of the Moment” or Steve Howe’s guitar flourishes throughout. It’s clear the band has chops, and the non-hits nestle themselves in your ear after a second listen. There’s no single on side two, but the tunes rock with the exception of hair-metal ballad “Without You”. It wraps up with the arena-friendly, hold-up-your-lighter-and-sway anthem “Here Comes the Feeling”. I just have to sing-a-long. LONG LIVE ROCK-N-ROCK IN ALL ITS GLORIOUS FORMS!

The 1982 Listening Post - Peter Gabriel - Peter Gabriel (AKA Peter Gabriel 4, AKA Security)

 Reviewed by Scott Arciniegas

Released: September 6 1982 Peter Gabriel Peter Gabriel (AKA Peter Gabriel 4, AKA Security) Genre: Peter Gabriel Allen's Rating: 4 out of 5 Scott's Rating: 4.75 out of 5 Highlights: The Rhythm Of The Heat I Have The Touch The Family And The Fishing Net Lay Your Hands On Me Wallflower I, like Peter Gabriel, can make things entirely too complicated. I have been sitting on this review for like 2 months: starting it, stopping; abandoning it and starting over; listening and re-listening to the album, as if it has ever gone out of my heavy rotation since I first bought it on vinyl in 1983 (I can listen to it note-for-note in my head and, for the final write-up of this review, actually did); doing research and dredging my memory for conversations between myself and my prog-rock-obsessed older brother (who was more of a Rush fan than a Genesis/Peter Gabriel guy, but still, much love and respect, Dave)… This ain’t that hard. This album was Peter Gabriel’s fourth solo album, and the fourth to be titled “Peter Gabriel”. Geffen Records didn’t like that, so they changed it to Security in the US. Peter Gabriel didn’t like being on Geffen, so once he broke free and started his own label, Real World Records, which he used to shine a spotlight on a whole slew of artists from around the world, hopefully putting some money in their pockets (and his) in the process. On his first four albums, Gabriel evolved, from too-theatrical-to-be-really-listenable prog-rock wunderkind and front man, to a rock artist with a penchant for stories, but also possessed of pop chops that produced the occasional “Salisbury Hill” or “Games Without Frontiers”; he still had a flair for the theatrical, sure, and would dabble in orchestral interludes or almost jazzy pieces, but at his heart he was an English guy who made artsy rock music with a literary and sometimes political bent. With Peter Gabriel [4: Security] (as it’s known I certain circles), he takes a great evolutionary leap forward. The theatrical flourishes become fully cinematic, both in narrative and arrangement, telling stories that paint vivid celluloid scenes in the viewer’s minds’ eyes. There is the opening track, “The Rhythm of the Heat,” apparently an exploration of Jungian something or other. My psychology studies went particularly neuro-based, so if I’m honest I don’t much go in for that Jungian junk. But this song, a journey to the center of the listener’s mind, I can get into: Smash the radio (no outside voices here) Smash the watch (cannot tear the day to shreds) Smash the camera (cannot steal away the spirits) The rhythm has his soul, maaaaan, and when the Ekome Dance company comes in with a pounding Ghanaian rhythm that drives the song into a frenzy and comes crashing down into the stillness before the second track—well, if it didn’t also stir something in you, you might wanna just cleanse your palette with a Power Pop record and do something else with the next 40 minutes. About that second track, “San Jacinto”: it’s a story told by Gabriel of a Native American man going back to the Res and observing the co-opting of his culture by the ever-encroaching White Man and by Capitalism. Is that ironic? Only kinda, as Peter Gabriel is English, not America. So yeah, sure, it is. Is this cultural appropriation? Probably. Is it a good song? Kinda, yeah; paints a really vivid picture and points the listener’s sympathies in the right direction. Would it be okay for a White Man who isn’t Peter Gabriel to release this song today? Probably not. Luckily—or not, depending on your perspective—Peter Gabriel released this song in 1982. Welcome to The Listening Post. “I Have the Touch” is about as close to a regular rock song as you’re going to find on this record, but thanks to this album’s top-notch prog rhythm section of Tony Levin on stick bass—he next-levls every record he appears on—and Jerry Marotta on drum kit, along with the call-and-response between Gabriel’s lead vocals and the backup: it’s a banger. “The Family and the Fishing Net”: at first listen this closer to Side 1 seems another piece of ethnographic exoticism, a recounting of the strange matrimonial rites of some alien tribe. The music, and especially the ever-building and eventually straight-up wailing backup vocals reiterate this sense of the strange and exotic. A close analysis of the lyrics reveals the strange tribe to be us, the curious wedding rituals the same ones we’ve attended many times. We were the strange tribe all along! It’s a little Twilight Zone, sure, but hell, I like the Twilight Zone. Side 2 opens with “Shock the Monkey.” Nobody doesn’t know this track. My only criticism is that I’ve heard it too many times, but one can hardly blame Peter Gabriel for rock radio’s unwillingness to dig deep. I always thought the song was about vivisection, based on the last shot of the music video, I suppose, but a little reading informs me that it’s about jealousy. Huh. That works too. “Lay Your Hands On Me”: Gabriel talks his way through the verses (albeit in a rhythmic talking that is doesn’t feel like he’s trying to rap, thankfully), and sings the refrain; and then, again, there’s that call-and-response chorus that Gabriel does so well. The song structure is an ancestor of the “loud quiet loud” thing that the Pixies would later make famous, and the drama it imparts makes this track feel like the soundtrack to a nonexistent short film, no doubt the winner of an imaginary BAFTA award). On “Wallflower” Gabriel continues the work he began with “Biko” (1980), and that he would continue until he became one of the world’s most famous activists for political prisoners and Amnesty International: Though you may disappear You’re not forgotten here And I will say to you I will do what I can do Well, you gotta hand it to him. He totally did. And made a moving track in the process. The album closer is “Kiss of Life”: it’s a big, rousing rack about … a big woman? Dancing? Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? Yes, all three. It’s got banging drums, huge synth flourishes (that I’m sure some of this group’s synth haters will take exception to), Tony Levin Tony Levin-ing it up like crazy. When the final note strikes and reverberates and fades to nothing, you’re left wanting for nothing. Does this album take itself seriously? It does. It’s a Peter Gabriel album. Serious is kind of his thing. But it brings serious musicians together, making complex songs, telling vivid tales through visual language that lets the listener see the whole thing in their mind’s and a feel in in their hearts and/or their feet. It is a great record. And that, Listening Post listeners, is the simple version of my album review.

The 1982 Listening Post - The Cure - Pornography

 Reviewed by Jim Coursey

Released: May 4 1982 The Cure Pornography Genre: Psychedelic Goth Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Jim’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Highlights: One Hundred Years A Short Term Effect Siamese Twins The Figurehead Allen's Additional Highlights: The Hanging Garden “I know for a fact that we recorded some of the songs in the toilets to get a really horrible feeling, because the toilets were dirty and grim.” - Robert Smith, Rolling Stone, 6/18/04 “It doesn't matter if we all die Ambition in the back of a black car In a high building there is so much to do Going home time, story on the radio.” Over the course of their career, The Cure have covered as many moods and styles as Eve has faces, but “Pornography” establishes itself as their heaviest, most despairing, and most singular album from its outset. If the druggy, whirling guitars, thundering drums, and sinister bassline of “One Hundred Years” isn’t evidence enough, then those opening lyrics Robert Smith wails seal the deal. The third in a progression of albums with hazy, indistinct cover art, the searing red of “Pornography” heralds its sharp tonal shift from the previous albums’ fade to grey. The Cure abandons the minimalism of their previous albums: gone is the tight, sharp pop punk of “Three Imaginary Boys” and the meandering stoicism of “Faith.” “Pornography” is a defining album of the goth canon. Here The Cure amped up its angst to match the dark energy of Bauhaus or The Birthday Party, while running it all through more flanger and delay pedals than Siouxsie could shake a stick at. Only the relatively gentle, measured “Siamese Twins” harkens back to the previous album’s tone. The rest of the disc plays like a tiny mouse casting a towering shadow -- a modest three piece has been transformed into a hulking giant through muscular performances and a cavernous reverb. The darkness of “Pornography” obscures the fact that this is in fact a heavily psychedelic album, made clear in songs like “A Short Term Effect,” which is replete with murky Arabesque guitars and vocals that are so effect-laden the spiral downwards into the abyss. Whether or not this album was a commercial success, it surely was a boon to digital effects manufacturers. Reportedly the band was drunk and tripping for most of the sessions, not to mention overworked, but their state of mind was captured perfectly by producer Phil Thornalley. (Thornalley’s work would help usher in their forthcoming moodswing on the positively buoyant follow-up single “The Lovecats”, which he not only produced but also played its famous stand up bass line.) It’s hard to pick highlights, as for me the entire album is strong. It becomes impenetrably heavy in the final cut (the album’s title track), but the song is nonetheless thematically fulfilling. Beyond that, the album lacks an obvious single. While the band would prove its mettle as a singles act by the time the 1986 compilation “Standing on a Beach” was released, “Faith” and “Pornography” traded artistic vision for viable standout tracks. Neither 81’s “Primary” or 82’s “The Hanging Garden” matches the stunning non-album single “Charlotte Sometimes,” and are to my mind their weakest singles of their first decade. “The Hanging Garden” is a good track, with its martial beat and crisper sound, but I find both “A Short Term Effect” and “A Strange Day” to be catchier. That said, I can’t fault the band for its more daring choice. “Pornography” is perhaps the band’s ugliest album, but if you don’t mind wallowing the horror. it's one of their most distinct and fulfilling. Ask me to name my favorite Cure album and my answer will change with the day, with “Head on the Door” and “Standing on a Beach” (cassette version with the B-Sides) as other contenders. It’s not as forgiving as “Faith” or rich or mature as “Disintegration”, but it hits harder than either the former’s funereal walkabout or the latter’s finely texured soundscapes. The band imploded in the course of making it, which no doubt makes it an uncomfortable listen, but it’s drummer/keyboardist Lol Tolhurst’s favorite Cure album, and I can’t disagree.

The 1982 Listening Post - Dire Straits - Love Over Gold

 Reviewed by Timothy Sprague

Released: September 24 1982 Dire Straits Love Over Gold Genre: Classic Rock Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Tim’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Highlights: Telegraph Road Private Investigations Industrial Disease Love Over Gold It Never Rains It’s been too long since I have revisited Mark Knopfler’s simply wonderful guitar playing, which I pretty much took for granted during the 1980s because Dire Straits were such an AOR mainstay. His unmistakable sound really hits the spot when you need a strong dose of masterful git-picking and Love Over Gold does not disappoint. As I started work on this review I was listening to the album on YouTube but that was just not doing it justice, so I purchased a proper copy on the iTunes store. If that can be considered “proper.” Truth be told I am running out of shelf space for records and CDs so have gone digital with a lot of purchases and I’m not a fan of streaming services. Being assigned to review this album was a good excuse to fork over $9.99 for a Dire Straits album for the first time since I purchased Brothers In Arms in high school, one of the first clear cassettes I ever owned. It seemed really futuristic at the time. The magnum opus Telegraph Road gets things underway, clocking in at just over 14 minutes with layered piano and organ creating a sumptuous backdrop for Knopfler’s raspy storytelling. He lets if fly on his Shecter Strat to magnificent effect and the song feels like it ends too soon, despite it’s length. Private Investigations follows and Mark gets a chance to show off his acoustic prowess for a bit before the album’s hit Industrial Disease. This song always put a smile on my face when it would come on the radio and features another signature Dire Straits sound, the whirling organ of Alan Clark. Clark is no slouch as a musician himself and has an extensive list of credits that includes playing on albums by Bob Dylan, Phil Collins, Pet Shop Boys, Al Green, Jon Anderson and Lou Reed, as well as arranging Tina Turner’s smash hit Private Dancer, written by Knopfler for this album but left unused because he thought it needed a woman’s voice instead of his. Knofler’s production throughout this album is top notch with great little touches like the vibes on the title track. Full disclosure … I loves me some vibes! Another long track, It Never Rains, closes out the album and, as it finishes, I get a little sad that it’s only 41 minutes long. They truly do not make ‘em like this any more. Love Over Gold is a testament to the craftsmanship that bands used to put into their albums. Yes, I know I sound like a fossil but is there a young guitarist out there who even comes close to what we hear on this record? It makes me long for the lost days when being good at playing an instrument was more admired than how many tattoos a musician has. The grace. The subtlety. Attenton to detail. Dynamics. Love Over Gold has all of them in spades. I just can’t find anything I don’t like about this one. Damn it! Now I gotta buy the rest of the DS catalog at the iTunes store. At least I don’t have to get in the car to purchase music these days, so there’s that.

The 1982 Listening Post - Bobb Trimble - Harvest of Dreams

 Reviewed by Tom Mott / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: December 16 1982 Bobb Trimble Harvest of Dreams Genre: Obscure Psychedelic Folk! Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Tom’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Highlights: (everything!) Bobb Trimble ... ? Huh. Never heard of him. PUT ON THE FIRST TRACK. DO IT! PLEASE! "Premonitions - The Fantasy" . . . Are you listening to it yet? PUT IT ON! . . . I am completely bonkers hooked. Strummy folk guitar, Harmonica, a synth whistling, high vocals. Reverb, echo, weirdness, mesmerizing beauty. It sounds like ... > Russel Mael as a folk singer > Demo tracks for the Millennium's "Begin" (1968) > A second lost album by Ted Lucas ("Ted Lucas" 1975) > A deep cut from T. Rex when they were still Tyrannasaurus Rex > A Big Star obscurity, if Chris Bell sang falsetto > An early Salvation Army/Three O'Clock demo > Klaatu, if Klaatu was a little fucked up > Thunderclap Newman on acid Track 2 "If Words Were All I Had" is a tad too medieval for my taste, but still lovely. Donovan sucking on helium. Track 3 "The World I Left Behind" is 1:18 of silence. On AllMusic, it's not silence but 2:58 of tape hiss. I'm giving him a pass here. Track 4 "Armour of the Shroud" starts with a tape recorder click, a recorded voice telling us if we want to make a call, please hang up and try again, followed by a busy signal. Guitars, layered spooky voices buried way in the background, maracas (an immediate +1 for me), and what sounds like a kids' xylophone. Dreamy. If we stop here, this album gets a 5. ------------------------------------- INTERLUDE/ASIDE #1: The MKL (Most Knowledgable Listeners) of who I am not, will know that Bobb Trimble released two albums in limited editions of 300 apiece, and had a backing band called The Kidds which included kids aged 11-14 years old--until their parents questioned why their kids were spending all their time making "weird" music with this adult. This is one of those holy grails of obscure psychedelic folk collectors. INTERLUDE/ASIDE #2: The OKL (Other Knowledgable Listeners) will connect the dots between this and later artists. Neutral Milk Hotel, Joanna Newsom -- accordingly to AllMusic. I don't know enough here. Elucidate! INTERLUDE/ASIDE #3: Thanks to modern streaming algorithms, I was very recently introduced to Ted Lucas's 1975 psychedelic folk album, and I love it. This is in that same "psychedelic folk" space that I didn't really know existed, but of course it does. Rule 34 applied to music. Too Dead-ish for some, but Lucas writes deceptively simple, pretty songs (think: Moondog as a folkie) and does some lovely self-harmonizing. Check it out! ------------------------------------- Track 4: Album still gets a 5. Track 5: Wait, wha-?? This is Track 1 repeated, but mixed slightly differently. The whistling synth is gone. It's a little less dense. Nearly identical though, like when the Stones give you the Glyn Johns alternate mix of a song. The song is good enough I'm happy to hear it again. Album still gets a 5. Track 6: Some kids talking. His backing band? Album still gets a 5. ------------------------------------- INTERLUDE/ASIDE #4: The album is beautiful. And unsettling. Drug music! ------------------------------------- Track 7: Still a strong song, but like too many Madness songs in a row, I'm slipping a twee bit ... until that whacked-out super-fuzzed guitar appears out of nowhere. Whoa! WTF! Brilliant! Track 8: The first outlier: A 2-minute blast of rough garage rock by his young bandmates. Overlaid with backwards-tracked instruments and backwards kids' voices. And star chimes. Shaggs-like live singing and thudding away at drums. ------------------------------------- INTERLUDE/ASIDE #5: Track 8 reminds me of my old band Legion of Rock Stars. We wore sound-blocking earphones and sang/played along to songs without being able to hear ourselves at all. Always out of key, and always in sync! ------------------------------------- Track 9: Back to the lovely, languid, sleep psychedelia. Track 10: The second outlier: a more agressive, angular song. At least for the first minute! And then back to psychedelic found sounds, maracas, echo, reverb, layered voices, and whistles. The Wrap-Up: I did not know this album existed. It's fantastic. It's going into heavy rotation over here. Accessible Psychedelic Sunshine Pop-Folk!

The 1982 Listening Post - Men Without Hats - Rhythm of Youth

Reviewed by Chris Roberts/Rob Slater Released: March 20 1982 Men Without Hats Rhythm Of Youth Chris' Genre: Anti-Hat, Dancing Rights Imbecile Anthems Rob's Genre: Devo’d Bowie Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Chris’ Rating: 3 out of 5 Rob's Rating: 4.25 out of 5 Chris' Highlights: The Great Ones Remember I Got The Message The Safety Dance (original version) I Like Rob's Highlihgts: Ban The Game Living In China The Great Ones Remember I Got The Message The Safety Dance Things In My Life The Great Ones Remember - Reprise [Allen's Note: This has never happened before. I inadvertently assigned a record twice. I really don't know how that happened. But, for you reading pleasure, here are two Listening Poster's takes on Men Without Hats.] Chris Robert's Review: Rhythm of Youth improved over a few listens, but I don’t recommend the album as it appears on the streamers, the CD or 90% of the vinyl versions. The best way to hear this album is the original release, before it was retooled to take advantage of Men Without Hats monster hit, “The Safety Dance.” I won’t say any version of Rhythm of Youth is particularly great. But the original version of Rhythm of Youth at least had a plan. The original song sequence clarifies certain musical themes: the snippet of tinkling piano from “Ban The Game” ties into “Cocoricci (Le Tango Des Voleurs”) at the end of Side A; and brings out the highlights (“The Great Ones Remember,” “I Like,” and “I Got The Message”) that get lost and overwhelmed by the smash dancefloor-awareness hit. These songs taste a little like Depeche Mode’s Speak & Spell bubblegum, or a Telex missive— enough for a couple spins. (The retooled version includes two versions of TSD. The first SD you’ll encounter begins with an unnecessary “unplugged” vocal prelude, and makes the album drag after less than a minute.) On many songs, Ivan Doroschuk’s baritone and lyrics suggest the Hats strived for greater importance—I find them hard to take seriously. Considering that “The Safety Dance” is just a negative Yelp review for the local discotheque: “They were so rude and stupid! They wouldn’t let us Hats flail around like well-dressed, new wave aliens! We would give them ZERO stars if we could!” Meanwhile, they refused to dress appropriately for the Canadian winters. “Wake up sheeple!” they’d say. “A real man doesn’t wear a hat!” In the end, the Hats themselves are just a footnote to “The Safety Dance,” which bafflingly grows in stature over the years. Not only is “The Safety Dance” the new battle cry of the vax nation (Alaska Airlines ad: “if your friends don’t mask, and IF they don’t mask, well they can’t fly this airline”) but no less than indie pop darling Angel Olsen has included her “serious” version of “The Safety Dance” on her latest EP. I prefer the dancefloor grievances of the original SD, but now that this review is over, I’m probably done with any version of this song for a couple decades. *********************** Rob Slater's Review: I was very surprised how much I liked this album. The songs I like best are catchy and not quite as much synthesizer focused: "Ban the Game." I love this intro song, sort of cinematic. Then the gigantic hit, "The Safety Dance." Who does not get this stuck in their head. I think I may have “hated” it when it came out. I was a snob for anything but my musical tastes, which were pretty eclectic. Then "Living in China" sounds like a David Bowie tune. What year did "China Girl" come out?" "The Great Ones Remember" is a Great One, but I've noticed, specifically with this song, that once he starts singing, I immediately like it a lot better. If the intros were only about 10 to 15 seconds it would be fine. This intro was 35 seconds. For some reason I like the intro for "I Got the Message" better. This may be my third favorite song. Kind of Devo with more music and less monotony. It is repetitive, but for some reason I don't mind it as much and I stopped consciously listening about halfway through. Then the French lyrics started and it was more interesting. Yet “Cocoricci” is really meh for me, despite the French.. I really love, "Things in My Life," that again sounds like Bowie. The rest are all meh, until the reprise of "The Great Ones Remember." It’s as great as the actual song. Nice closer.