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 - 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 - 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.

The 1982 Listening Post - Mission of Burma - Vs.

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: October 11 1982 Mission Of Burma Vs. Genre: Post Punk Allen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Chris’ Rating: 5 out of 5 Highlights: Trem 2 Deadpool Learn How Mica Weatherbox That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate (… but please, just listen to the whole thing) Biting, anxious anthems, awash in stormy texture and effects presaged the buzzy, angular college radio sound of fellow-Bostonians The Pixies, the breakthrough success of Nirvana, and the angst of countless post-punk others. This one-and-done touchstone arrived ten years too early for the year that punk broke, but the music continues to resonate today (I heard it playing in Amoeba last weekend). Among their storied peers: more epic and decodable than The Fall, more dangerous and less jangley than R.E.M., more punk than Sonic Youth. Mission of Burma’s noisy stuff is insane—and Vs. is mostly noisy stuff. Guitarist Roger Miller’s progressions build and repeat until they explode and reset. “Secrets” reverberates in Nuggety fashion, speeds up, adding layers upon layers of feedback and screams; then the singing begins and it all starts again. “Learn How” is a downhill bike ride on a rickety bike, where you’re going faster and faster, dodging potholes, but then you hit one and wipeout into a trashcan. The industrial grade groove in “Fun World” nearly shakes vs. off the spindle. And the closer “That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate” … is a blast. While Vs. is a fuzzy, swirly maelstrom, there’s space to shake yer booty (“Weatherbox”) and zone out (“Trem 2”) and shoegaze (“Dead Pool”). The mission of the Burmen is to capture the maelstrom of internal conflict—the “versus” of everyday thinking, exclusive to us smartypants non-neanderthals. Issues include trust (“Secrets,” “Train”), progress (“Learn How”), faith (“New Nails”) or just getting out of bed (“Mica”). At album’s end, MOB suggests the flaws are so bad, it might be better if you just go away. To Tulsa. It’s really not that far from Boston. Need more convincing? Look at those morning glories on the cover. They’re there to hide a chain link fence, (and aren’t even doing that good a job). For unseen context, flip the jacket over— it’s a xeroxed forest filled with wolves.

The 1982 Listening Post - Bruce Springsteen - Nebraska

Reviewed by Chris Roberts Released: September 30 1982 Bruce Springsteen Nebraska Genre: Folk Rock Allen's Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Chris’ Rating: 5 out of 5 Highlights: Nebraska Atlantic City Mansion On The Hill Johnny 99 Highway Patrolman State Trooper Used Cars Open All Night My Father’s House Reason To Believe I know The Boss’ Jersey bombast is too much for some folks. “Born In The USA” and “Born To Run” are just a few of Bruce’s unrelenting assaults, and if you’ve ever seen or heard his legendary live shows, you know Bruce and the E-Street band launch all the missiles. He’s the consummate rock star, both exhilarating and exhausting, but if you’re not into it, Bruce can look pretty silly. But Nebraska does not feature the E-Street band, or even Bruce the rock star. He’s not dancing in the dark. This is a dark night of the soul. Bruce the writer, in a rented house by his lonesome self. Nebraska is mostly simple compositions, played on an acoustic guitar, with an occasional harmonica or other small embellishment, home-recorded. While home demo tracks have become de rigueur, and MTV unplugged everyone in the nineties, Nebraska is another thing entirely. [1] Nebraska is about the stories, not the storyteller. In fact, Bruce isn’t even on the cover (a rarity in his discography). Instead, it’s a grainy, black and white photograph—a windshield view of a desolate highway. Aside from snow on the wiper blades, there’s nothing to identify the location. The photo sits between the words BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN, printed in big red letters at the top, with NEBRASKA handled the same across the bottom. Words on wide black bands, the kind you see on a letterboxed movie. This is fitting, as Nebraska is cinematic, showing us scenes with characters in conflict. And like a letterboxed movie, this album wants to show us the full picture, including the edges. The first song, “Nebraska,” establishes the album’s grim theme with it’s final verse. When asked why he killed ten innocent people, a death row murderer explains: “Well sir, I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.” This meanness is direct in the stories of a mob hitman, (“Atlantic City”), a cop killer (“Johnny 99”) and a cop who looks the other way when his brother commits a violent crime (“Highway Patrolman”). The meanness is also indirect. It’s wealth, in the stories of outsiders looking in (“Mansion On The Hill” and “Used Cars”), and struggles of conscience (“My Father’s House”) or the lack thereof (“State Trooper”). In the album closer, “Reason To Believe,” Springsteen does not offer faith as a solution to the “meanness in this world” only that it’s “kinda funny” that in spite of dead dogs, runaway lovers, broken promises, and everything else we’ve heard over these ten gloomy tracks, people do find “some reason” to believe. I remember listening to Nebraska in July 1989, speeding home at night on Interstate 5 somewhere between Lost Hills and the Grapevine; nothing but blacktop, scrub brush and a rusted billboard frame or two. Alone in the dashboard light, these songs felt like I’d tuned the radio to a cold, still-of-night broadcast from the central wastelands of the apocalypse. Gone were the Central Valley rancheros and all that was left were these decaying transcriptions from a failed civilization. Bruce described it like this: In the wee wee hours your mind gets hazy Radio relay towers gonna lead me to my baby Every song on Nebraska has at least some mention of driving or the highway, and many are told from the position of the driver’s seat. That specific lyric appears in not one, but two songs. In “State Trooper,” it’s in the thoughts of the unlicensed driver who’s committed some unspeakable crime and doesn’t want Mister State Trooper to pull him over—for the trooper’s sake. In “Open All Night,” the cops have already turned on their flashing lights, but in this case, the driver, on his way to see his girl Wanda, is “hummin’ like a turbojet” in his fully tuned ride and wishes the patrolman “good luck” catching him. Both songs also follow this lyric with the radios being “jammed up,” with “gospel” and “talk show station(s).” But it’s less the context and more the repetition that I find intriguing. These lyrics perfectly capture Nebraska’s dark night of the soul vibe, and the challenges we face finding salvation. Repeating them with different characters reinforces the universality of that challenge. Those same repeated lyrics also capture and compliment Nebraska’s lo-fi sonic texture. Words like “hazy,” “radio relay towers” and “radio jammed up” express the pervasive background hum inherent in Bruce’s demo recording. His original goal was to flesh the songs out with the E-Street Band—but the moments captured in the home recording haunted him. Like the sizzling of sodium lights in a parking lot, or echoes in an abandoned building, it’s both unnerving and sparely atmospheric, spiritually closer to indie rock than classic rock, and worlds apart from Bruce’s later acoustic albums (The Ghost Of Tom Joad and Devils And Dust). Back to that night, listening to Nebraska behind the wheel of my little red pickup, I probably thought of Johnny Cash [2] and the inmates he sang to at Folsom and San Quentin. I was working on my English major, so maybe I should have recognized Bruce was channeling Flannery O’Connor, who once wrote: “You arrive at enough certainty to be able to make your way, but it is making it in darkness. Don’t expect faith to clear things up for you. It’s trust, not certainty.’” That’s what’s going on in Nebraska, for sure. Of course, I found that quote Googling “Springsteen Scorsese” because I know movies better than I know books [3] (so much for that B.A.). Terrance Malick’s film Badlands was Springsteen’s inspiration for the song “Nebraska,” and Sean Penn’s film Indian Runner was inspired by “Highway Patrolman.” I can draw parallels to movies by Joel and Ethan Coen (“Blood Simple,” “Fargo” “No Country For Old Men” and “Oh Brother Where Art Thou”) and Martin Scorsese (“Mean Streets” “Taxi Driver” and “Goodfellas”). You probably can too. You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m not actually sure that I listened to Nebraska that night in July 1989. I know I was at a personal crossroads, so it feels right. I sorta wonder if Nebraska captured my “hazy” mindset so perfectly, that I’ve retconned my past. ********** 1. Bon Iver, The Killers and Kelly Clarkson are among the artists who’ve recorded albums inspired by Bruce’s minimalist approach on Nebraska. I could argue there’s probably not a No Depression scene without Nebraska. 2. Cash called his 1983 album Johnny 99, which included covers of “Johnny 99” and “Highway Patrolman.” He also covered “I’m On Fire” (a song which borders Nebraska) on the Nebraska tribute album, Badlands. “Badlands” is also the name of a song on Springsteen’s 1978 album, Darkness On The Edge of Town. 3. I have listened to the audiobook of Born To Run by Christopher McDougall, which is about barefoot running. I have not listened to Born To Run, which is Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography.

The 1982 Listening Post - Stray Cats - Built for Speed

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: June 7 1982 Stray Cats Built For Speed Genre: Rockabilly Toonces Allen’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Chris’s Rating: 4 out of 5 Highlights: Rock This Town Stray Cat Strut Rumble In Brighton Runaway Boys Allen's Additional Highlights: Built For Speed Rev It Up & Go Little Miss Prissy At Sepulveda Junior High, the metalheads dug Ozzy and Judas Priest. New wave kids idolized Duran Duran and Adam and the Ants. Punk was just scary! There was a tribal affiliation to musical taste, expressed through clothes and hair, that was a key indicator of coolness. I wanted more than anything to belong to a tribe, but my Licorice Pizza and Miller’s Outpost dreams were limited by a Star Wars action-figure salary. I don’t remember when I first became aware of the Stray Cats. But courtesy of the Happy Days propaganda machine, I knew the Fonz was the epitome of cool, and on a trip to the Glendale Galleria, I came home with the Stray Cats “Rock This Town/You Can’t Hurry Love” 7-incher. I was 99 cents closer to popularity! The rockabilly single ended up being a big hit with my Mom, though it was my dad who brought home the Built For Speed LP. (My dad’s hot take: “The Stray Cats can’t sing worth shit—they sound more like the crappy band that played at our high school dances.) So, in addition to being my passport to coolness, Built For Speed was something of a Roberts family album. At least until the Dippity-Do in my hair started to fail. There’s a “Freaks & Geeks” episode where Sam attempts to impress the head cheerleader with a powder blue disco jumpsuit. Of course, it’s 1980, and DISCO SUCKS (even though MST3K’s Joel Hodgson is the manager at the disco clothing store) so Sam’s plan backfires, and everyone in school laughs at him. I’ve got a Mad Libs version of that story, using rockabilly instead of disco, a handknit argyle sweater vest, and a mom-styled pompodour. The rockabilly look is challenging for someone who isn’t fully grown. It really requires towering Silvio Dante hair, slick Fonzie attire, and (if you can drive) some old school wheels. While the Stray Cats cultivated a 50s meets 80s sensibility, a half-measure, like say, hair gel instead of pomeade, or Toughskins instead of Levi’s … you’re not going rock this town, that town, or any town. I don’t even remember if there was a rockabilly tribe at Sepulveda. It’s easy to lump the Stray Cats into the Duran Duran/MTV/proto-boy band wave that prioritized looks over songs. That, and the LARPing piece of rockabilly, always made the Stray Cats music feel secondary. But there’s still lots of runaway boys and double talkin’ babies dressing 50s-style for the Blasters and Social Distortion shows today, part of that symbiotic relationship between rock/rockabilly with classic car culture that keeps 50s fetishism alive. Nobody writes songs about ma-ma-my Corolla, but we can imagine our ride is something a little less fuel efficient when the Stray Cats are on. Built For Speed is more than the album equivalent of a Mel’s Drive-In. First, there’s Rockpile founder/producer Dave Edmunds’ pedigree as a cultivator of 50s sounds. Then there’s the band—Lee Rocker, Slim Jim Phantom and Brian Setzer—handsome, stylish AND talented musicians. When the material is great, like “Rock This Town” and “Stray Cat Strut,” the Stray Cats could be either 50s or 80s stars. The out-of-control bounce in “Rock This Town” and slinky bass in “Stray Cat Strut,” are so much fun. I cannot resist singing “Stray Cat Strut.” OK, I think my dad was right to call out the vocals. Brian Setzer had the look and the licks, but he ain’t Elvis or Roy Orbison. I don’t always buy his act, but most of the time he’s serviceable. As for the rest, “This Side” (the A-side) of Built For Speed is excellent. In addition to “Rock This Town” and “Stray Cat Strut,” there’s “Rumble In Brighton,” which depicts an 80s UK version of S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, wherein the rockabilly cats scratch and hiss in the alley against mighty mean skinheads, whilst all the cops can do is stroke their bobbysticks. It’s a solid teen anthem. And per the rockabilly rules and regulations, there’s two classic car fetish songs, the title track “Built for Speed” and “Rev It Up and Go,” which celebrate the joys of a junker 39 Ford, as well as a customized-to-perfection 57 Chevy. No chassis shaming here. “That Side” kicks off with the blistering and belligerent “Runaway Boys” but otherwise it’s a meow-mixed bag. “Lonely Summer Nights” is the slow jam, but defanged and declawed, the Cats sound like they’re getting ready for the mother-son dance. The energy picks back up with “Double Talkin’ Baby,” and Eddie Cochrane’s “Jeannie, Jeannie, Jeannie,” but there’s some missing teeth. Stil, it’s not a bad ride.

The 1981 Listening Post - Frank Soda - Saturday Night Getaway

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: 1981 Frank Soda Saturday Night Getaway Genre: Bar Band Rock Rating: 3.3 out of 5 Highlights: Skin Graft Look at the album cover for Saturday Night Getaway and form your own judgement. Here’s mine: that’s Frank Soda in all his rock god glory. Blingy Cheap Trick rally hat, red polka dot one-piece, airborne Van Halen pose, prominent guitar, smoke machine, an “in yo face” expression. Still I don’t quite believe Frank Soda is a rock god. Perhaps it’s the short hair or dirty tennies, but something about Frank Soda reminds me of Frank Sorta, the manager at my local BofA branch. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess the LP was Frank Sorta’s souvenir-takeaway he made at rock-and-roll fantasy camp. But Frank Soda deserves respect. He’s the real thing: Canada’s answer to Dee Snider! Frank got his start in the body-building/proto-metal band Thor. With his bar band, The Imps, Frank opened for Triumph, Deep Purple and Savoy Brown. His shows with the Imps were full of visual hijinks: KISS-style pyrotechnics, one-handed guitar playing (while guzzling beer), guitar battles with himself via video screens, electric suits, and prop hats. In fact, one of Frank’s “Moon Man” hats exploded while he was wearing it, burning off his hair and skin! That is FULL ROCK STAR CRED, Frank! 70’s bar bands had it tough trying to get signed in the early 80’s—hyped live shows rarely translate into exciting studio recordings. For Dee Snider’s Twisted Sister it worked because their NWOBHM sound had just a little edge and their debut LP’s raw production sounded freshly authentic. It was enough hype to bridge the gap to the video era where Twisted Sister took off. I think Frank Soda should’ve exploded in the pre-Nirvana years. Frank Soda and The Imps 1980 LP Soda Pop has some of the Red Hot Chili Peppers punk energy but it’s real “strength” is the juvenile boys’ comedy popularized by Green Jelly and Ugly Kid Joe at the end of the decade. But Saturday Night Getaway is inexplicably less offensive than Soda Pop. Between Frank’s Sammy Hagar vocals and the song selection I mostly hear generic rock for more mature audiences. Case in point are two unremarkable covers: “Born To Be Wild” and the Young Rascals’ “Come On Up.” The opening title track gets the party started in the “hey guys, put down your Molsen Golden and stop the hockey talk and pay attention to us guys on stage” kind of way. Not a call to the mosh pit. The closer, “Shoot To Kill,” is diet Bon Jovi. There are moments. The naughty “Drunk and Disorderly” isn’t up to Motley Crue standards but would be fine in the Kix ouvre. “Break The Ice” has cool effects and a little snarly echo in Frank’s voice—although I have a hard time imagining a man in a light-up electric suit is much of a wallflower. Mystical flutes on “Moon Man” offset the dumb lyrics. But do you think Frank missed his opportunity to cash in on exploding moonman hats and burning hair? Hell no! As they say “write what you know.” The accident inspired the third track, and my highlight, the funky funky “Skin Graft.” The funk injection provides needed contrast and boogie, allowing me to dream about a a dozen drunk Canadians singing “skin graft! skin graft!” That would be a hoot.

The 1981 Listening Post - Akitex - Arkitex

Reviewed by Chris Roberts Released: 1981 Arkitex Arkitex Genre: Electronic Pop Rating: 2.7 out of 5 My sister and I got musical instruments for Christmas in 1981. I got the Mattel Synsonic drums, she got the Casio PT-1 keyboards. We had (and still have) absolutely no musical talent or ability, but our first recordings probably included songs like Arkitex “Mosquito Park” and “Hot Diarrhea.” I know those song titles have got you queing up Spotify, hoping for a freakfest, but you’ll be sorry. Arkitex’s brand of electronic pop is just not that terrible. It just doesn’t sound finished. They need better hooks and more sounds. On the plus side, front man Vladymir Rogov sounds like he wants to be Bryan Ferry some day. And there’s a line in the song, “Love Waters,” that goes “love waters, come all over me,” that is worth a juvenile snort.

The 1981 Listening Post - Tom Fogerty - Deal It Out

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: 1981 Tom Fogerty Deal It Out Genre: Classic Rock Rating: 2.8 out of 5 If you love CCR, maybe you’ll enjoy Tom Fogerty’s fifth and final solo album, Deal It Out. That’s a hard maybe. I can’t say I’m the biggest CCR fan in the world but I did see brother John perform a blistering, energetic, thirty-minute set last November, and I was blown away. Voice and guitar are still edgy and unique—he still sounds fantastic playing his Berkeley-on-the-bayou classics. And what classics: “Proud Mary,” “Have You Ever Seen The Rain?,” “Fortunate Son,” “Down on the Corner.” For what it’s worth, John’s 1985 solo LP Centerfield is a pretty good time. But Deal It Out is no Centerfield, because Tom is a different kind of Fogerty. Tom can hold the disco ball by it’s string, but John is the one who spins it, kicks it, and smashes it with a sledgehammer. John always seems like he’s having fun, while Tom seems like he’s on the clock. Snuggled between hair metal and emerging hip hop, Centerfield felt a little old-fashioned in 1985, but it was full of energetic, hooky nostalgia, like an album-length version of Springsteen’s “Glory Days.” In fact, Centerfield sounds so much like CCR that John got sued for plagiarism by his former label. But if Deal It Out reminds you of CCR it’s only because Tom was in the band, and he sounds a little like John. But Tom doesn’t sing like John. There’s no “hi-de-hi-de-hi’s” or misheard “bathroom on the right.” No worry that the whole business is going off the rails. Tom sings, but John performs. The Eagles-style lead off track “Champagne Love” is a fair single and one of the better songs (though I’d recommend another “Tequila Sunrise” instead). I also enjoyed the laconic questioning of “Why Me?” but the ballads “Tricia Suzanne” and “Summer Night” just lie on the bed asleep. The title track is goofy like a Travelling Wilburys b-side, but without any Wilburys. Two Van Morrison songs, and a cover of “Mystery Train” offer a chance to boogie and freak out, but Tom just holds on tight to that disco ball string instead. Bad lyrics about bad blood spoils the riff on “The Secret.” Tom kinda reaches on the slow chugger “Open The Window,” but the song exposes his limited range. Not enough here to recommend.

The 1981 Listening Post - Kayak - Merlin

Reviewed by Chris Roberts Released: 1981 Kayak Merlin Genre: Prog Rating: 3.99 out of 5 Highlights: Merlin The King's Enchanter Niniane (Lady Of The Lake) Now That We’ve Come This Far Love's Aglow I’ve been poking at prog music during the pandemic, but it can be a hard genre to pin down. In my youth, I thought prog meant fancy-pants records like Yes’ Close to The Edge or Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway—two albums I couldn’t quite digest. But Tool, Supertramp and Tangerine Dream all have LPs on Rolling Stone’s 2015 “50 Greatest Prog Rock Albums of All Time” list, and each of those LPs are as great as they are different from each other. Prog includes metal, krautrock, psych, electronica, Italian and Japanese offshoots, plus Pink Floyd, Rush and even ELO, but just about any album containing a track longer than five minutes might be considered at least “prog” adjacent. Kayak did not make the Top 50 for Rolling Stone, but their 1981 LP Merlin does contain three songs over five minutes. And Kayak feel solidly identifiable as a prog band, with high octave vocals, pastoral moments, fantasy themes and magical solos for Maiar wizards and first year Hufflepuffs alike. Plus, their palindromic band name makes for a badass logo. Side A of Merlin is five connected songs about the Arthurian sorcerer. It opens with one of my highlights, the seven-minute title track, which has all the swirling winds and tinkling keys, layered falsettos, all the plaintive storytelling you could ever need for your next D&D campaign. Nothing is advanced level, thanks to Kayak’s main composer, Ton Scherpenzeel, who makes good use of pop/classic rock hooks, and keeps the noodling to a minimum. The flute in “King’s Enchanter” gets you charged up for some necromancy, while the ballad “Niniane (Lady of The Lake)” brings the heartbreak. If any of this sounds intriguing, I recommend trying Side A. But be warned, the drums don’t shake the castle walls. If you’re waiting for the Eastern glow, Merlin can also sound like a schmaltzy kids animated musical, particularly if you start to think about Phil Collins career too much. (In 2003, Kayak rerecorded these five songs and embellished with nine new ones, to create the rock opera album Merlin: Bard of The Unseen). Side B of Merlin is a jarringly different thing: five thematically-unrelated-to-magic pop songs. The first of these is “Seagull,” a single also included on Phantom of the Night (Very Best of Kayak). I found it less birdsong and more birdshit, but who can blame Kayak for paddling alongside the prog rock yacht for a trip down the river Styx? The peppier “Boogie Heart” shuffles like an ELO outtake while “Can’t Afford To Lose” is practically ABBA-esque disco, but lead vocalist Edward Reekers is the wrong fit for this groovy material. But he’s just fine for the slower stuff, like “Now That We’ve Come This Far,” a lost hobbit prom dance epic, and “Love Aglow” is a wistful soft tinkle to close out the set—a “Dust In The Wind” moment. I liked enough of this poppier material to check out some of their other singles, like “Ruthless Queen” and “Want You To Be Mine,” but it ended pretty quickly. Overall, hard to rate this mess as a 4, but there was magic in the air.

The 1981 Listening Post - Tigers (NZ) - Tigers

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts / LISTENING POST DISCOVERY

Released: 1981 Tigers (NZ) Tigers Genre: Pop Rock Rating: 4.2 out of 5 Highlights: Tony Don't Wanna Go Home All Night Let’s Get Started Heart Don’t Stop New Zealand’s short-lived Tigers once opened for Swingers, who are also from New Zealand and also had only one album. You remember Swingers. Their Counting the Beat LP was a Listening Post discovery! Like that fantastic album, Tigers self-titled LP is stacked with hooky, peppy pop rock of the Costello/Rockpile variety. There are many highlights, little-to-no filler, and nothing too dated-sounding. Counting The Beat exudes more youthful spirit and edge, but there’s no reason not to grab this Tiger by the tail! Across all the tracks, Tiger’s Nick Theobald (bass), Barry Saunders (vocals, guitar), Steve Lunn (guitar/sax) and Simon Morris (drums) deliver the goods. For a band that hung out with The Church, it ain’t deep or moody—but there is a hint of that textured depth and sophistication, courtesy of Wayne Mason’s keyboards. (Side note: Mason’s 1970 song “Nature” recorded with his band, The Fourmyula, was voted the #1 on the APRA Top 100 New Zealand Songs of All Time list. That’s right. Above Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over” (#2), Split Enz “I Got You” (#11) and Swingers “Counting the Beat!” (#4).) While the best tracks come later on Tiger, the opener “Please Be Mine” is propulsive and satisfying. “Say These Words” picks up the pace (and continues the innocent Valentine’s Day sentiment). “On Any Weekend” shuns sport, Donny & Marie and Mormons in favor of detailing the Chrysler Valiant AP6. “Adults Only” brings some reality into the requisite girly-mag salute. At this point, between the power pop sound and the teen-focused songwriting, Tigers feels fun but a little lightweight. Then we get to the first highlight, “Tony,” with some lyrics about UFOs, Mason’s funky tinkling piano solos, and a disco beat reminded me of Pulp’s dance tracks. Very fun! After “Tony” comes four more highlights in a row. “Don’t Wanna Go Home,” has a great singalong chorus for the stadiums. “All Night” is lovely, bittersweet and Costello adjacent (when it isn’t actively ripping him off). “Let’s Get Started” (second single) has a terrific melody. But my favorite track (third single) is “Heart Don’t Stop,” with Saunders’ shout-along chorus and Lunn’s sweet sax atop Clashy-reggae beats. (Sadly, the risqué single cover generated more hoopla than their music). Victims of their placement at the end, “You Cheated Me” and “Little Misty” are less engaging than what came before but neither is truly disappointing. If you’re streaming Tigers via Apple Music or Spotify, also recommended is the fine bonus track “Red Dress” (Tigers’ first official 7”). If you’re listening on vinyl … name your price, I want it.

The 1980 Listening Post - Footloose - Footloose

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: 1980 Footloose Footloose Genre: AOR Rating: 1 out of 5 I have a friend (we’ll call her Louise) who’s favorite meal is a chicken breast with plain rice. Louise doesn’t enjoy eating. I’m unclear if it’s a condition or extreme pickiness, but Louise’s meals consist of the few ingredients she can tolerate. In addition to rice and chicken, she also eats bananas, well-done beef patties and bread. No added spices or sauces. Footloose (the album) is the chicken and rice dinner for the Louises who don’t enjoy music. It’s music for when music is a requirement, not a joy. Here’s some examples: • The last song played in a very long end-credit sequence for a movie released in September receiving two thumbs down • The on-hold music for a bankrupt service company’s court ordered customer service line. • Suburban dentist office with shag carpeting and empty fish tank. • The fancy-free cassette that comes with your new Chevy Citation. • Small rural towns where teen dancing is forbidden. This crap is AOR at it’s AORiest. So smooth you don’t even know it’s there. None of that noise like you’d hear at say, Safeway, or on a Gino Vanelli album. I streamed Footloose on YouTube and the highlights would have to be the five seconds of advertising between songs. I would encourage Listening Post members, music fans, the music-tolerant, the comatose and the deaf to skip this one. You’ve heard it before you just don’t remember it. Internet finds: • The opening track “Leaving for Maui” was a 1979 Top Ten hit in Hawaii. Aloha fuckers! • Footloose blame goes to Tim Feehan, who quit “the band” after this album came out. Feehan went on to bigger success as the singer-songwriter with dozens of songs that have appeared on hit TV shows; he also co-wrote/produced Tiffany’s fifth album and owns Backroom Studios in Glendale, CA. • Thanks to Kevin Bacon, Kenny Loggins and the rest … this album is not the easiest to find on the internet.

The 1980 Listening Post - Snowaxe - We're All Different

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: 1980 Snowaxe We're All Different Genre: Cold Noodles Rating: 2 out of 5 Snowaxe! An unopened, mint copy of the Ontario power trio’s one and only LP, We’re All Different, sold for $100 in 2014. There are currently nine copies for sale on Discogs, and with Canadian shipping, you might be able to score one for closer to $50. Don’t try listening on the streamers either. It’s only available on Citizen Freak dot com, where it is free to play a billion trillion times if you want. Trust me, you don’t want to pay $100 or $50 for this album, even if you are some kind of heavy metal completist. Aside from their cool, edgy name, Snowaxe doesn’t sound very metal. For a few seconds, on a couple tracks (“Harlem’s Screamin’” and “Amigos”) there are some jammy bass noodles from Iam Nishio that recalled the experimental math rock band Battles. Mostly it’s just sub-Zeppelin, sub-Halen, sub-Hagar rock—and unfinished, unrehearsed to boot. Under better conditions, singer Ed McDonald has a decent voice (play a couple seconds of his 2008 solo album Incognito, under the name Eddie M, but don’t linger on it). With Snowaxe, McDonald apparently forgot to winterize his pipes, because there’s a lot of excess air on We’re All Different. An ounce of prevention, boys. A billion trillion times? I couldn’t listen to it a second time.

The 1980 Listening Post - Sorcery - Till Death Do We Part

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: 1980 Sorcery Till Death Do We Part Genre: Proto Doom Metal/Heavy Rock Rating: 3 out of 5 Just in case one of you TLPers gets super-excited about this album, just know the average purchase price is $600 on vinyl. The good news is there are three copies available on Discogs, all in VG+ condition or better, so you won’t have to worry about too much surface noise disrupting your listening experience. I expect for many listeners, surface noise would be preferable, but even a CD version is pretty hard to come by for this metal-legendary band. For everyone else (this reviewer included) you’re stuck listening to Sorcery’s second LP, Till Death Do We Part on YouTube. But before we do that, TAKE A LOOK AT THAT ALBUM COVER!!!!! As a lifelong fan of the genre, this art suggests an incredibly promising early 80s private press, proto-doom metal experience. We’ve got satanic rituals with hooded figures! Stained glass! A snake! Gothic type! Hand printed journal type! An overzealous embalmer! All rendered with so much attention to detail and passion, without that stupid glossy, professional sheen. Some metalheads I know revere this band, so I can hardly wait! Chris listens to the album while writing the above paragraphs. Hmph. Till Death Do Us Part is not what I expected. You probably don’t need to like heavy metal to enjoy this, but I’m not sure it makes a difference either. If I’d spent $600 to listen to it, I would definitely be disappointed since it sounds like the awful recording cost about a nickel. (I wonder if I could commission cover artist Janetta Lewis to draw an original 12x12 image for $600?). I imagined a Venom-meets-Slayer (with maybe even a little Ghost) experience, but I can see that’s unfair. We’re fifty years removed from the birth of NWOBHM—even Judas Priest or Black Sabbath can feel tame compared to black or death metal acts like Cannibal Corpse or Behemoth. It can be hard to remember that blues, psych and acid were all a part of metal’s early years before NWOBHM and punk changed it all up. Mostly Till Death Do Us Part reminds me of a poorly recorded Blue Oyster Cult boogie album with some Halloween sound-effects thrown in. There’s some Black Sabbath spooky-scary keyboard sounds but there’s more Jerry Lee Lewis keyboard sounds. More “Smokin’ In The Boys Room” than “Smoke On The Water,” but there’s certainly a green haze throughout. If you’re going to check it out, listen to the first two tracks, “Ogre” and “Ruby Red,” but there’s enough here to let the whole thing play through once. I preferred Sorcery’s superior 1978 double LP debut, Sinister Soldiers (also only on YouTube unless you’ve got a grand to spend). It sounds like a slightly better recording, with a less annoying singer (Tim Barrett) and badass song titles like “Aracnid,” “Planet Schizoid” and “Snowshit.”

The 1980 Listening Post - Max Demian - The Call of the Wild

 Reviewed by Chris Roberts

Released: 1980 Max Demian The Call Of The Wild Genre: Power Pop Rating: 3 out of 5 Between Herman Hesse, Jack London and George Orwell references, it might seem like you’d need a reading list to digest all of Max Demian’s second album. Good news! You don’t. I’ll give you the Chris Notes version, and you’ll absolutely nail the final. If you really like The Cars, you might like The Call Of The Wild. I like The Cars well enough. I had Heartbeat City on cassette in 9th Grade, and I’ve seen that pool scene in Fast Times At Ridgemont High more than once. Even today, Candy-O was just what I needed, but Call Of The Wild is what I got. Max Demian (that’s the band name, not the name of a member of the band you dummy. That would be confusing! Max Demian is a character from Herman Hesse’s Demian—I know because I have a B.A. in English, so I’m pretty fucking good at searching Wikipedia). Wait, what was I writing about? Oh, Max Demian’s singer, Paul Rose, sounds at least 66% Ocasek. He’s also 33% Ray Davies and 12% Tom Petty, and probably 5-10% assorted other sounds, including a howler monkey (I don’t know if that’s right, because I was an English major, not a biology major.) There’s also quite a bit of zip-zap blip-blop pew-pew in the keyboards. And hand claps. Jesus Christ, there are hand claps everywhere. And hooks. Maybe too many hooks since I listened to the album twice. What is this album about? It seems Max Demian heard some Devo or Kraftwerk or Flock of Seagulls (time travel exists you trolls) and said, “Hell, we can do that but way better, so it rocks like Sweet, or T. Rex or ELO! Or The Cars! And we’ll make it about how everyone out there is just a bunch of suckers being programmed, like robots or computers!” They didn’t know that in the future, we’d have robots and computers who would do all the writing for us, so we could just sit around all weekend listening to our flip-flops, can-cans and zip-ups.

The 1980 Listening Post - The Carpettes - Fight Amongst Yourselves

 

Reviewed by Chris Roberts Released: 1980 The Carpettes Fight Amongst Yourselves Genre: Post Punk/Power Pop Rating: 3.125 out of 5 I bet if I’d heard Fight Amongst Yourselves when I was sixteen, I’d have loved The Carpettes post-punk power pop sound. I was a big fan of The Smithereens first two albums, and just discovering The Replacements’ catalog. On this collection, the Carpettes sometimes sound like both those bands, but with a brighter radio pop sheen than either of them. Today, I would bet this album probably has more to offer fans of KISS than fans of The Replacements. Fight Amongst Yourselves leads with the one-two punches of the bratty “Nothing Ever Changes” and the pouty “Since You Went Away.” Bam! Bam! Both songs strike fast and with “good” pop technique. The rest of Fight Amongst Yourselves is pretty much the same, but competent. The title track is decent, and there’s two reggae songs—the better one is “The Last Lone Ranger.” But overall, there’s no impact—more a workout routine rather than a serious attack. The Carpettes can get in the ring, but they are too lightweight and lack a killer’s instinct. All the best post punk uses guided missiles to hit specific targets—think about The Carpettes’ heavyweight contemporaries: The Clash, Elvis Costello and The Jam. Their songwriting is so loaded with concrete details, that half the time I have no idea what those blokes are rallying against. But I totally get that those blokes are really pissed off, because when we get really pissed off, it’s usually about really specific things, like phony Beatlemania or pissing down rain on a boring Wednesday or those silly things that Alison says. The penultimate track on Fight Amongst Yourselves, “Total Insecurity,” is where The Carpettes finally bear their teeth, albeit the “fake plastic vampire” variety.

The 1980 Listening Post - Melodic Energy Commission - Migration of the Snails

Reviewed by Chris Roberts Released: 1980 Melodic Energy Commission Migration Of The Snails Genre: Space Rock Rating: 3.9999 out of 5 Highlights: Doorway Into Summer I support the Commission’s limited authority with regard to snail migrations but I’m not ready to wholeheartedly endorse these Canadians as it pertains to their “melodic energy.” You might guess from the album title this is not club music. Per the MEC’s website, this album is an “adventure into the explorative otherworlds of electronic and ancient acoustic musico-sonic territory.” In other words, the calendar may say 1980 but the MEC still party like it’s 1971. Migration of the Snails is experimental prog laced with old school psychedelia, much like early Tangerine Dream, Italian horror soundtracks, Miles’ Bitches Brew or Nucleus’ jazz fusion. Del Delmar from Hawkwind even contributes to a few tracks. But it’s also unique. Mixed into the haywire guitars are analog synths, chamber music sounds, funky grooves and occasional environmental effects, recalling works from more contemporary sources, like the Kronos Quartet, Penguin Café Orchestra and The Latin Playboys. Thematically, you could program Migration of Snails alongside Stevie Wonder’s Secret Life of Plants and Inoyamaland’s Music for Slime Molds for a whole afternoon of Moisty Mountain Hop. I love all that stuff listed above, and I recommend this album for anyone who’s like-minded. Or if you just want to trip balls on weird sounds for a half hour, this album is more fun and accessible than say, Cabaret Voltaire. But I’m not sure its particularly meaningful. Migration of the Snails is more like a bunch of ideas and partial tracks rather than a fully-baked concept. Only two cuts (the title track and the lovely closer, “Doorway Into Summer”) are over six minutes in length. The rest are under three minutes—not enough time for all the different sounds to build let alone coalesce into anything that got under my skin. For example, the percussion, keyboards and whatever makes that “firecracker” sound on “Periwinkle Street” create some atmosphere, possibly a sketch, but doesn’t seem to have a point. I want “Periwinkle Street” to be about 12 minutes longer. I want every track to be about 12 minutes longer.

The 1981 Listening Post - Rough Trade - For Those That Think Young

Rough Trade - For Those That Think Young 

#632

By Chris Roberts

December 30 1981

Rough Trade

For Those That Think Young

Genre: Synth Pop

Allen’s Rating: 2 out of 5

Chris’ Rating: 3 out of 5

Rough Trade, the musical act, is known for explicit, bondage-themed rock that verges on theatrical camp. Divine of Pink Flamingos fame appeared on stage with them! Rough Trade’s biggest hit, “High School Confidential,” reminds me of The Rocky Horror Picture Show—I’ve danced the Time Warp after midnight, although I don’t consider myself a big fan. I see musicals reluctantly (La La Land and Umbrellas of Cherbourg are two I love). Even with all the hype, I’ve never seen Book of Mormon, Mamma Mia or Hamilton—I’m saving my money for the Planet of the Apes musical (I love you, Dr. Zaius!). Back to Rough Trade. “High School Confidential” is the only Rough Trade song I was even vaguely aware of, and while it was a hit in 1981, it’s not on this album—it’s on 1980’s Avoid Freud (previously reviewed by Paul Zickler). This album, which RT planned to call For Those That Think Jung, is their follow up, and kicks off with their second biggest hit,  “All Touch.” You might not remember “All Touch” from 1981, because it didn’t arrive in the US until 1983, and peaked at number 58—I know I didn’t.

Compared to “High School Confidential,” everything on FTTTY, including “All Touch,” sounds 80’s generic. The exception is Carole Pope’s over-the-top vocals. I don’t get everything she’s singing about, but Pope sounds entertaining, and I bet the live shows were crazy. The more I read about Rough Trade, the more I felt like FTTTY doesn’t seem like a good document of their legacy. The album feels more like a bid for mainstream airplay, where all the fun edges have been taken off—but I suspect that many Rough Trade fans were eager to see themselves represented in mainstream entertainment.

https://open.spotify.com/album/422Q3aZiasLfXGBq4nsASb?si=gQjpmpn2TQSV7dTnxgw_UA

The 1981 Listening Post - The Sound - From the Lion's Mouth

The Sound - From the Lion's Mouth 

#611

By Chris Roberts

November 1981

The Sound

From The Lion’s Mouth

Allen’s Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Chris’ Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Genre: Post punk gem

Highlights:

Winning

Sense of Purpose

The Fire

Silent Air

From The Lions Mouth is a strong rock record in the 1980s U2 tradition of Velvet Underground and Joy Division influenced bands. The singer often reminds me of Ian McCulloch from Echo & The Bunnymen. That’s easier to say than saying U2 sounds like The Sound. Do you also like the way The Sound sounds? You too? I’ve already written one review that takes more shots at a band’s name than their music (thank you, Kix), so I’ll spare you another long one. The Sound is a terrible band name for many reasons. The most I can say for the name is that it’s kinda of pretentious (and so is U2) so it works that way.

But rather than FTLM being another Bono hairball, it’s my first real Listening Post discovery. I had not heard The Sound (ugh…) before this review, and did no research before my first listen—I just looked at the front cover. Which might be all you need to do to make the call—the visual aesthetic is spot on. An unnerving, old monochromatic painting, plus some modestly styled italic type—it could be Bauhaus, or The Smiths, or New Order. And for fans of those bands, it’s hard to imagine you’d be too disappointed with From The Lions Mouth. So, The Sound got the cover right.

The music is even better. The album opens with “Winning,” which suggests an alternate reality where Robert Smith instead of Survivor was asked to provide the hit for Rocky III. “Sense of Purpose” could be straight off Boy (and would be one of the best songs). “The Fire” rips and “Silent Air” soothes. While I have drifted away from U2, Echo and music like this, there’s not a bad song here, and it was a nice reminder about being open-minded. Saying this band sounds like U2 is not an insult—if anything, FTLM just proves how lucky U2 were. If I have a complaint, it’s that on first listen, most of FTLM sounded samey, but I also said that about The Joshua Tree and OK Computer, and look where we are today. Winning! What made me appreciate FTLM even more, was it’s not really a mope-fest (which killed New Order’s Movement for me). Yes, there are songs named “Skeletons” and “New Dark Age,” but it’s not Halloween every damn day. For The Sound, there’s problems, but they’re confronting them. 

I have gone back a read a little bit more on The Sound, but I won’t regurgitate, I just recommend you do as I did—if you haven’t heard it, give this underrated gem a go.

https://open.spotify.com/album/2neFxutkHmjJ8jVAXcXynI?si=nknOtuglTXKjzNxYVOWrCQ

The 1981 Listening Post - Abba - The Visitors

 Abba - The Visitors

#591

By Chris Roberts

November 30 1981

ABBA

The Visitors

Genre: Abbacoda. 

Allen’s Rating: 4 out of 5

Chris’ Rating: 3.9 out of 5.

Highlights:

The Visitors

One of Us

Two For The Price of One

I don’t recall hearing ABBA’s hits on the radio in the 70s or 80s, but I must have. In addition to “Dancing Queen” or “Take A Chance On Me” they had 12 more top 40 hits in America (and worldwide, they’ve sold as many records as U2). By the early 90s, thanks to either Muriel’s Wedding or Erasure, ABBA Gold was #1* in my CD collection (*alphabetical ranking)! I like ABBA, just not enough to see Mamma Mia. You know who really LOVED Abba? Australian teens! In prep for this review, I sat through the Australian ABBA documentary, Thank You For The Music, and the teenage fans in that movie act like they are waiting to see The Beatles. 

I always saw ABBA as more like The Carpenters for the rest of the world. I like the Carpenters. I recently reviewed The Carpenters bittersweet 1981 swansong, Made In America. Made In America wasn’t terrible, just disappointing and hopelessly old-fashioned, and largely colored by a behind-the-scenes breakup. I knew that The Visitors was Abba’s final album, released in 1991, and was recorded after both couples had split up. So I braced myself for another embarrassing, last gasp from the 70s.

But The Visitors is fine. Unlike The Carpenters, ABBA have a history of good LPs. Usually there’s a couple hits, some theatricality, great melodies and good, poppy times. There’s filler, but not too many slow moments or big ideas, but they can pull on the heartstrings. Functional lyrics, in English, written by Swedes. It’s music for young people. Also unlike The Carpenters, ABBA got good material out of their own personal troubles. One of their best songs is the 1980 hit, “The Winner Takes It All,” which was heavily marked by Bjorn and Agnetha’s break up. It’s from the 1980 Super Trouper, and like that album, The Visitors gets weighed down with some slower adult-oriented material. But in general, The Visitors is a decent career-capper for the hyper-professional Swedes.

The title track mildly suggests ABBA is headed in a new direction. There’s an echoey, sinister guitar, coin-op SFX and Missing Persons style vocals. Paranoia, ABBA-style?  Nope, just an extended opener. As the smoke machine powers down, the melody tinkles to life, and Frida’s voice slinks through the 80’s synths. At over five minutes, it qualifies as an ABBA-epic! 

The next three are goodish. “Head Over Heels.” An Agnetha song, in the style of the earlier hit, “Money, Money, Money,” trading cabaret for the tango. Another song that paved the way for the musicals. Then comes “When All Is Said And Done,” Frida and Benny’s play by play of divorce. It’s not exactly Shut Out The Lights. But thematically, it works as ABBA’s farewell to the fans single. “Soldiers” is something of a mixed bag. Another great melody, and there’s something appealing about the alliteration, but I’m unsure what this song is about. It sounds like they’re saying something meaningful… but this is Abba. The line “if the bugler starts to play, we too must dance” gets unintentional chuckles. 

Side Two opens with the biggest hit (and best song) on the album, “One of Us.” It’s a lesser known song in the US because it wasn’t released as a single until after ABBA broke up, and failed to chart. But it’s filled with the commercial emotion only ABBA can provide. It’s followed by “Two For the Price of One,” which is the requisite Bjorn-sung track. Normally, I don’t usually care for the Bjorn songs (or marching bands, or songs that feature phones ringing) but this song has all that and is redeemed by a fantastic melody and chorus. Love it, but get ready for an earworm.

There’s clunkers. “I Let The Music Speak” is slower, a bit of a sad snooze, as are the closing tracks “Slipping Through My Fingers” and “Like An Angel Passing Through My Room.” But I suppose for those Australian teens in 1981, this was a meaningful vibe. It was their Let It Be. It certainly was for ABBA, who captured the spirit in the cover photo. After jamming themselves into a chopper for the cover of Arrival, the The Visitors cover finds them standing apart, in low-lighting, preparing for solo careers.

https://open.spotify.com/album/5nPd21zawIBLrCaMEJrq3P?si=MXqabw4GRu6UVzVnZXYryQ