Haddaway - Haddaway

Arista: 1993

A reconciliation? After a fashion. I ragged on Haddaway's debut album before, though it was based on hazy recollections of it, only a few stand-out tracks surviving into my lasting music collection. As the years wore on, a part of me started wondering, was it really so bad? What Is Love?, Life (Everybody Needs Somebody To Love), and Rock My Heart remain solid jams, so surely there's a couple forgotten gems I was too stubborn to appreciate at the time. Like, that Mission Control Mix of Life that closed the album out, that was a dope tune. Maybe not a sterling example of anthemic prog-house, but definitely something that wouldn't sound out of place rubbing shoulders with a Rollo track (not to mention an “'Any crew?' 'Negative'” sliding nicely in with the rest of the radio chatter).

So into a bulk bundle of eurodance Haddaway went, and yeah, there's a few tunes on here I'd forgotten about that I don't mind hearing again. Shout is the closest thing on par with the aforementioned club hits, with our leading man belting out the title with just as much enthusiasm as the other titles. Only thing holding this peppy tune back is the questionable bassline, a tad over-aggressive for the What Is Love? guy. Sing About Love is a surprising bit of variety, Haddaway getting his rap on over a darn smooth beat and chill pad leads. And, um... ah... hmm.

I really don't want to call the remaining seven tracks 'filler', because they are well produced for eurodance of the time. Some housier jams (Yeah, Come Back), some down-time ballads (I Miss You, Mama's House, Tell Me Where It Hurts) and a cover or two (Stir It Up) are fine for padding an album out, but do little in elevating Haddaway's profile. He's a competent singer, but compared to how much personality he exhibits in the big hits, the rest lack in memorable moments.

That in of itself isn't a complete deal-breaker though, if the tracks are paced out well, but the North American version of Haddaway's self-title doesn't do him any favours. Two lead singles at the jump, then little of note until track eight. Not even the Rapino Brothers Mix of What Is Love? mid-album (aka: the version suitable for New York City clubs) is enough to maintain interest. Plus, even with the rest of the uptempo tunes where Haddaway shines all bundled in the back-half, they are broken up by ballads. The European version (titled The Album, and featured on Spotify) paced things out far better.

Why did Arista arrange the songs like this? Did the label think Americans couldn't handle so much eurodance all at once? Sillies, folks are getting this album because of one of the genre's all-time biggest hits. Give 'em more right at the jump! No wonder I had such wack memories of Haddaway's debut, a big ol' stretch of nothing smack in the middle. Still, t'was nice reconnecting with a couple forgotten tunes.

Utada Hikaru - Ultra Blue

Eastworld: 2006

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

Now that I've gotten the boggles out of my mind regarding the juggernaut of a commercial success that is Utada Hikaru's music career, I can do a deeper dive into one of her albums. Eh, I left out her attempts at breaking through in America? For sure there was an attempt, almost immediately after the release of Deep Blue in fact. How could her brand not want to replicate that fame on this side of the Pacific? Surely folks in the U.S. of A. would look past her ethnic origins and appreciate the music- BWAHAAHAHA!!! Oh man, I couldn't even finish it! They certainly did all they could trying though, what with Island Def Jam getting Timbaland at the producer's console. I suppose Exodus debuting at 160 on the Billboard was okay for a mostly unknown foreign talent but yeah, small wonder she returned to Japan after this. For a 'foreign produced' record though, album did gangbusters in her native land. Obviously it did.

Ultra Blue is the Japanese album Hikaru released in the wake of her American expenditure, and boy are the English influences ever still present, a track list almost entirely in that language. In fact, of the twelve songs, only three use kanji. Another three do that funny Japanese thing where they capitalize the whole title (BLUE, COLORS, WINGS), as though they're so hype for the song, they just gotta' shout it at the top of their lungs. But yeah, the rest are all conventional English titles: Be My Last, One Night Magic, Keep Tryin', This Is Love, Making Love. Oh, and this CD is 'thicc', yo', one of the fattest jewel cases I've ever held. Nothing but the most luxurious booklet paper for Utada Hikaru!

There's also more English in the songs themselves, though mostly in the choruses, Hikaru often flipping between languages even mid-line. I remain dumb-founded that folks, of any ethnicity, can pull that off (work with some carrying conversations fluently flipping from English to Punjabi). Judging by the titles though, most of the lyrics deal with the usual love topics R&B and pop settle on, and as my Japanese remains pathetically weak, I've no clue how deep or profound Hikaru's words are. She's certainly emotive enough to carry a tune though.

And yet, Ultra Blue was apparently one of her weakest selling albums, with a slightly more electronic tinge to the music not quite vibing with her massive audience. Which is weird to me because this all sounds like the same super-slick polished pop cribbing contemporary influences I've heard from mainstream markets for decades. A little Latin in One Night Magic, a little trip-hop in 海路, a little... UK urban in COLORS? Okay, maybe not as indebted to American R&B as her earlier output, but not so blatantly Japanese as I expect of most j-pop either. Was it simply not enough of either? Well, if there's anything I wouldn't call Ultra Blue, it's vanilla. Now rose, there's a flavour that's apt.

Utada Hikaru - Deep River

Eastworld: 2002

(a Patreon Request from Philoi)

Upon receiving this album, I couldn't help but do a double-take. Was I certain this was a j-pop album? It looks nothing like the preconceived cliches of the genre my Western eyes have been inundated with. In fact, aside from the artist name and kanji on the back, I'd have easily thought it an American R&B release, not that dissimilar to a traditional Mariah Carey or Beyoncé cover. Throwing it on for a listen, the American influences are even more prevalent – were it not for the different language, this wouldn't have been out of place in any Western R&B chart. And with American artists cribbing from 'ethnic' cultures as it was (s'up, bhangra), turnabout is fair play. Did make me wonder if Utada Hikaru might have had any success over here if she tried a crossover album.

Then I did the post-listen research and discovered, shit, she don't need success over here in the slightest. For Utada Hikaru is huge in Japan. Like, Mariah and Beyoncé huge! Like, owner of some of the country's top selling albums ever, absolutely trouncing her nearest chart competitors. Her first album First Love crushed it at 7.6 million copies sold there – by comparison, Michael Jackson's Thriller, the agreed upon most successful global record ever, sold only 2.8 million in Japan.

Yet, despite her monumental success in her homeland, she's nary a presence over here, a lone soundtrack appearance on the Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker movie Rush Hour 2 her closest brush with success in America. There's also frequent contributions to the Kingdom Hearts games (including the closing song 光 from here), but that's a comparatively niche audience. Yes, I know, entirely different cultures and all, but again, the music she's making here isn't that different compared to American R&B, her cadence easily on par with the divas of the U.S. Just use the ol' Shakira Strategy: record an English version, get a major label backing it (EMI handled distribution in other South Asian markets at the time, though she's since signed with Sony, so maybe a re-issue?), and see what may come.

I'm sorry I'm dwelling on this so much, but it honestly and truly boggles my mind that someone could be so successful in one country, and not here. It's not even like her music is too culturally dense to work elsewhere. It'd be like if Shania Twain or Celine Dion never broke out of Canada because they name-drop Montreal and maple trees (true, not so evocative as Tokyo and sakura trees).

Also, I honestly don't have that much to say about Deep River. As mentioned, this is an R&B-styled record, a genre I only have passing interest in, and where vocal presentation is first and foremost. Ms. Utada definitely has the pipes, such that I do hang on her words even if I don't know what they specifically mean. Translations reveal they're mostly about relationships and empowerment – standard R&B tropes – but that only takes me so far.

Pet Shop Boys - Further Listening 1988-1989

Parlaphone: 2018

This isn't a proper Pet Shop Boys release per se, but rather an added bonus to the Introspective re-issue. In fact, most of their albums have these Further Listening CDs attached to them now, which nags the question of whether I should review these as a separate entity at all. I probably wouldn't, but when ripping the CD to my harddrive, it came up as Further Listening 1988-1989, not as Introspective: Disc 2, thus isolating it from its mother album in my alphabetical listening queue. Perfect logical sense! Oh, and yes, Please and Actually have these Further Listening discs too, but my copies of those albums are older versions, sans the reissue bonus stuff. Will likely get the double-discer of Very though, as there was a lot of kick-ass associated material when that album was released (or so I'm told).

If you're worried about Introspective spoilers (because 'worrying about spoilers' is so trendy right now), the good news is Further Listening: Late '80s doesn't have that much material associated with its main album. Part of that is due to the very nature of Introspective, wherein- nope, not gonna' say it here. Gotta' save some material for later. All you need to know is very few disco mixes and alternate versions of songs from there make it here. Two versions of Domino Dancing (a demo and an alternate), two versions of It's Alright (a seven-inch and a ten-inch), and one one seven-inch mix of Left To My Own Devices. Five tracks may seem a lot, but with fifteen to gorge yourself on, 'tis but a droplet (especially when they're just extended/shortened versions of the album tunes).

As always, it's the b-sides that we're here for, and hoo, are there some doozies. Like that The Sound Of The Atom Splitting, essentially the Boys' stab at an acid house track. Of course, being from the UK, they don't quite get it, the track far too over-produced with studio gimmickry to actually be of much utility in a Chicago club, but those five minutes are among the strangest in their discography (apparently the original cut breaches double-digits in length). I'm more intrigued by One Of The Crowd though, what with its vocoder lyrics, synthy lead, and repetitive rhythmic pulse. It's like, proto-trance, even before The KLF were doing it. Okay, around the same time. Another b-side is Don Juan, which has something of a soft tropical vibe going for it, but in that real synthy Pet Shop Boys sort of way. I honestly wouldn't think much of it, but damn, do they know how to hit a chorus.

Then there's I Get Excited, apparently a tune that appeared on one of the Boys' earliest demo tapes (1983) that included West End Girls, One More Chance and It's A Sin. I don't know what's more fascinating, that they had such killer tunes in mind before even considering making albums, or that they were raiding it for supplemental material so long after the fact.

Genesis - We Can't Dance

Atlantic: 1991

The first Genesis album I ever got, since I didn't know any better. It didn't help this came out when I was at that very impressionable age of Twelve, with big hits of the day having much more influence on my interests than whatever the 'underground' was kicking. The first mixtape I made had stuff like Roxette, Michael Jackson's latest off Dangerous, and The Northern Pikes (it's a Canadian thing) – really, just whatever caught my eyes from MuchMusic, and happened to be in my old man's collection of CDs. Technically, the goof-ball blues of I Can't Dance falls into this category, as the tongue-in-cheek video (that walk!) had plenty of rotation on the music channel, and Daddy-O' had the album too. I'm not sure why he did though, as he lacked anything else from the band, new or old. I suspect I Can't Dance was such a hit, he needed it for all those mobile DJ gigs at weddings and office parties.

ANY-hootaney, I didn't get We Can't Dance for that particular song, but for a different one that struck quite a nerve when I first heard it: No Son Of Mine. As far as I can recall, hearing Phil Collins belt out that chorus was the first time I'd been mentally shook by lyrics, a cold chill running down the back of my neck as my pre-teen mind processed the implication such words coming from a father could have. What might a young man, boy, or teen do that was so abhorrent as to cause his father to reject him so emphatically? For that matter, could my father ever find some action of mine utterly contemptible as to turn his back on me? Might I even be capable of such action? It's a query that's stuck with me ever since I heard No Son Of Mine so many moons ago, long after such musings should have passed me by.

I know it's poor form spending a huge chunk of a review on an anecdote (or admission, or... whatever that above paragraph is), but let's be frank here: does anyone remember anything else off this album? There's twelve songs on We Can't Dance, but beyond No Son Of Mine (a kick-ass tune even if you don't have emotional scars from it), I Can't Dance, and maybe the peppy Jesus He Knows Me, nothing else had much impact on the airwaves. Oh, the album sold gang-busters, as most Genesis albums did back then, but I highly doubt most folks could hum songs like Tell Me Why or Since I Lost You or Hold On My Heart. The music's all slick, well-crafted, and nicely performed, everyone involved clearly experts in their trade. Yet aside from a couple extended jams in Dreaming While You Sleep and Driving The Last Spike, it all passes by with little vigour. As chided for its pure pop leanings as Invisible Touch gets, at least it had impressive compositions like The Brazilian in there too.

Mo-Do - Was Ist Das?

ZYX Music: 1995

It's remarkable that I should know of Mo-Do at all. Not in any post-eurodance, “haha, irony” sense, but when the act was fresh and new, their single Eins, Zwei, Polizei invading European clubs and compilations to such a degree, it breached Canadian shores too. Certainly many eurodance acts made it here, but they always had one thing going for them making it possible: their music was in English. Much like italo disco before it, the native language of the British Isles was somehow decided upon as the de facto tongue of dance club commercial success in Europe, helping it find a foothold across the Atlantic too. Songs sung in Spanish or Swedish or Swissish likely found success in their homelands, but no way they were gonna' make any bank in Canada, nosiree.

Then along comes an Italian pairing of Fabio Frittelli and Claudio Zennaro, the latter of which eking out a tidy career making house and trance as Einstein Doctor DJ. That Fabio fella' though, he had a good look to him, his Austrian heritage lending itself as a natural front-man for modelling or movies or music. He'd even dipped his toes in a couple rock bands, but found dance music more his calling. Hooking up with one Sergio Portaluri led to a couple singles as F&F, though these didn't attract much attention, pretty much standard English-singing eurodance of the day. Sergio co-produced some music with Claudio though, and when Mr. Zennaro was introduced to Mr. Frittelli, they felt enough musical chemistry to try again, only with a different angle: go full Germanic on clubland. Claudio was already making trance with a German bent, and Fabio felt Teutonic speech suited his voice better than English (or, heaven forbid, ragga!).

The result was Eins, Zwei, Polizei, a tune that celebrated the succinct punch of the German language, wrapped up in an earwormy minor-key melody straight out of the German trance book. Despite the absolute glut of eurodance in 1994, it was enough of a unique angle that it propelled Mo-Do to the top of the charts across Europe. Other German producers had hits, but none so wonderfully captured the Teutonic charms of their dance music. And all it took was a couple Italians to get there. Hey, an Italy and Germany allaiance found a way to conquer Europe after all!

The following album, Was Ist Das?, is about as you'd expect from eurodance of the time. A couple follow-up singles recycle the same formula that made the first such a success (Gema Tanzen, Super Gut), Hallo, Mo-Do does that Stadium House thing Scooter would make bank off, and Liebes Tango offers up a tune with a little English in it. There's also the requisite ballad (Fur Dich, My Love), plus a couple attempts at 'artsy' music (Hamlet, Das Konzert). They're fine in spicing the album up, but yeah, you're here for those tasty minor-key melodies and catchy German phrases, even if you're mangling them into 'engrish' as you sing along. Mmm, 'salty cakes'...

Genesis - Invisible Touch

Atlantic: 1986

This past Novemeber, the third single from Genesis’ bestselling album Invisible Touch kept running through my head. Granted, Land Of Confusion is already one of those ridiculously ear-wormy pop-rock anthems of the ‘80s, but for the first time in my life, I actually found myself… relating to the lyrics? Wait, how can that be? I’ve long been suspect of the pseudo-genre of ‘Boomer Activist Arena Rock’. For all the good intentions that generation tried accomplishing throughout the ‘80s, most of it now reeks of pretentious self-righteousness, especially in lieu of little significantly having been accomplished with these songs.

Still, the video – one of the most memorable of that decade thanks to the puppetry involved – had me realizing just how eerily similar our current climate is compared to the one portrayed there. A bumbling, aging, feckless Republican President who dreams of being a hero in a scary world; celebrities believing they got the Right Stuff in banding together for Important Issues; Phil Collins looking like a muppet. Trying to make sense of it all, it really did feel like we were living in another Land Of Confusion for a new era. Who’d guess that Genesis would be prophetic three decades ago!

This got me curious about the rest of the album Land Of Confusion came on, whether there might be other prescient nuggets of foresight throughout. Never mind the reputation Invisible Touch has gained over the years as one of those ‘80s albums that absolutely reeks of the decade filled with chintzy, superfluous excess. Even looking at the cover-art, you can’t imagine it being made at any other time than when shoulder-pads, mullets, tinny production, and hall effects reigned supreme.

The album itself isn’t really all that political though – no more so than a typical pop album of the mid-‘80s. The remaining Genesis band members – singer/drummer Phil Collins, guitarist Mike Rutherford (aka: the tall bearded guy), and keyboardist Tony Banks (aka: the other guy) – had been off doing their own projects for the past few years; apparently Collins had a couple successful tunes on the radio in that time. When they reconvened for this album, they came in with no preconceived notions, no intended ideas. Just let the music flow naturally as it came to them. And yet, it still ended up sounding like a Phil Collins record. Must be that Hugh Padgham ‘invisible touch’.

So everyone knows the titular hit single (definitive ‘80s pop). Tonight, Tonight, Tonight sees the band indulge themselves a little more in their music chops, while letting Collins belt another power chorus. Anything She Does is one of those peppy jazz-funk things as done by British white guys with synths. Domino is a more ambitious rock outing at ten-minutes in length, and instrumental The Brazilian closes the album out reminding folks that Genesis once were Serious Prog Musicians too. Hard to remember that with two ballads on here, though Throwing It All Away is charming enough. In Too Deep though… yeesh.

Sarah McLachlan - Rarities, B-Sides & Other Stuff

Nettwerk: 1996

I very nearly bought this when it was new. Rabbit In The Moon is on here, providing two remixes for Ms. McLachlan, including a rub on Possession (aka: that “I’ll take your breath away” song). The fact Rarities, B-Sides, & Other Stuff also has an Extended Remix of the only other song by Sarah I knew of (Into The Fire), and the temptation was there, believe you me. Taking a quick listen changed my mind though - I had no idea she was so acoustic. Right, I’ve already mentioned my early McLachlan knowledge was super-lacking, and man, was I ever gonna’ get some knowledge dropped on me hard the following year, when Surfacing became a Canadian Touchstone of Music Excellence Pertaining To Cultural Significance (or however CBC calls it now). Still, Rabbit In The F’n Moon… You’ve no idea how difficult it was finding their stuff in CD format back in the day. Hell, even now it’s hard, at least for a reasonable penny out of your purse.

While an ‘odds-n-sods’ collection of McLachlan material is hardly out of the ordinary, the fact this came out before she hit international stardom does come as a surprise. No doubt Fumbling Towards Ecstasy was a successful album, and even Solace and Touch had been slow burners, but nothing from those suggested her fanbase had grown significant enough for a stopgap like Rarities, B-Sides, & Other Stuff. She didn’t even have enough material for a ‘Best Of’ package at this stage of her career, and wouldn’t do the deed for that until the 2004 Retrospective. Interest indeed was there though, this compilation actually hitting the Top Ten of Canada’s Billboard charts, and even Triple-Platinum in my country. Wow, I’m not alone in my hunt for obscure Rabbit In The Moon remixes then!

Rarities, B-Sides & Other Stuff definitely lives up to its name, a hodge-podge of miscellaneous material throughout Ms. McLachlan’s first decade of music-making. This includes a number of covers: XTC’s Dear God, Canadian folkie Joni Mitchell’s Blue, and other Canadian folkie Gordon Lightfoot’s Song For A Winter’s Night. These all sound about as you’d expect from Sarah on the acoustic, mellow side, though given the power behind her pipes, I suspect she recorded them during the recent interim between albums, maybe as a means of helping her recharge her muse. Another cover’s here, a live recording of o-o-old-timey lament Gloomy Sunday, with the modernist Billy Holiday lyrics used.

So what’s this ‘other stuff’, then? A soundtrack-only track in I Will Remember You, which was a major selling point for this CD. RITM do a LunaSol Remix on Fear, which the boys behind Delerium were definitely paying attention to. A Violin Mix of Shelter. An early release of Surfacing track Full Of Grace. And, in case you forgot label Nettwerk’s origins leaned synth-pop and industrial, McLachlan lends a voice on 1988’s As the End Draws Near from long-forgotten duo Manufacture. Look, Sarah was young, she needed the work.

The Cranberries - No Need To Argue

Island Records: 1994

The Cranberries were one of the most popular bands that gave the world a grunge anthem, which is hilarious because they are not a grunge band. Alternative rock, perhaps, but the Irish group only ever made one song that could be considered grunge. But hoo, what a song that was, Zombie among the biggest singles of the ‘90s, setting The Cranberries up for plenty of future success. This, despite tons of CD buyers coming away from No Need To Argue with confused first impressions.

Not that they were total unknowns leading up to this album. Linger from their debut did reasonably well, especially in thanks to copious amounts of MTV play, and also finding a nice home on alternative stations. It’s a peppy bit of soft rock, perfect for your romantic comedy needs, more indicative of The Cranberries’ style of music, and generated enough buzz for their debut album, Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?, for a top spot on the Billboard of Ireland and the UK. Island Records, the victors of a label bidding war as representation for the band, had to be pleased. It was good enough for a modest fanbase in their homeland and even a little abroad, one that would stick with the group throughout the ‘90s. Not a bad claim to fame, nosiree.

But then along lurched a Zombie, scoring the band a Number One hit across the globe. It’s no surprise this single became the sensation it was, executing the grunge ‘quiet-heavy-quiet-heavy’ template to perfection. Coupled with a rousing chorus singer Dolores O’Riordan completely owns, and you’ve an anthem for the pissed-off generation that’s continuously played at every “Hey, remember the ‘90s?” party. It helped that it honestly sounded unlike anything else at the time, with that haggard accented voice from Dolores, to say nothing of an actual lady providing pipes in such a male dominated scene. The whole ‘anti-war’ message didn’t hurt its prospects either, though I wonder how many of my peers even knew Zombie was about that, instead content scream-singing “In your head, in your head, they’re fi-i-ighting. In your hee-aaadd! In your hee-aaadd ! Zo-o-mbie! Zo-o-ombie! Zomibe! Ey-Eh”, etc. Lord knows I didn’t clue in until the fiftieth time I heard it.

And that, despite scoring big on the charts with ultra-Platinum sales, No Need To Argue has found many a home in the used shops across the land (erm, with CD hoarders too). The Cranberries already had their followers, and this album’s blend of peppy alternative rock, charming Irish folk ballads, and Ms. O’Riordan’s intoxicating voice (such a wonderful singer!) delivers to those fans in spades. However, for the multitude of others that were introduced to the band via Zombie, and expecting more of that… well, some became fans of their traditional sound regardless. Many others though, didn’t quite vibe with what the Limerick group was selling, leaving them with No Need To Argue as a neglected gift from their Auntie. Probably.

Madonna - The Immaculate Collection

Sire Records: 1990

The only Madonna album you need, if you want a bluffer’s collection of Ms. Ciccone’s early discography. Not that her records didn’t sell well enough on their own, but for as much of a phenomenon she became throughout the ‘80s, her LP efforts were often spotty. Killer singles, no doubt, but a fair number of filler tracks too, mostly ballads, covers, and the like. Most folks just wanted to hear the peppy pop of Holiday, Material Girl, or Papa Don’t Preach, then move on with their lives before those awesome earworms started tickling the memory membranes again. Praise be, then, to the greatest hits packages, and what better way to put a capper on Madge’s dominance of ‘80s airwaves than one such collection. Naturally, such an effort could only be considered immaculate by her standards, but as Madonna’s entire m.o. is “if you got it, flaunt it”, what harm is there indulging her? Right, these past ten years of her career, good point.

The Immaculate Collection has everything you need for your Madonna: Phase One needs. The early “Jellybean” Benitez produced hits like Holiday and Crazy For You. The Nile Rodgers produced superhits such as Like A Virgin and Material Girl. The Patrick Leonard produced über-‘80s power pop pieces Love To Tell, La Isla Bonita, and Like A Prayer. The Stephen Bray produced club anthems like Into The Groove, Papa Don’t Preach, and Express Yourself. The Lenny Kravitz produced sultry… S&M… house coo of Justify My Love? Wait, what? Oh, and through much of this period is Shep Pettibone, often serving as an additional producer to give all these songs that extra punch of dancefloor sensibility. Guy was a God throughout the ‘80s.

Even if you were a Madonna fanatic and had bought all the albums, The Immaculate Collection was still a handy pick-up. Bringing all her best songs into one spot helped (don’t laugh, this was an extremely difficult thing for folks to do back in the day!), but it also gathered her wayward hits too, mostly found on soundtracks. Because good Lord, no one should have to buy I’m Breathless just for Vogue - so much better having it here, plus the additional new tracks Justify My Love and Rescue Me, leading us into her Erotica era.

That’s probably the most interesting takeaway from The Immaculate Collection, hearing her development as an artist. This is now all common knowledge of course, but going from the chipper post-disco chirps of her early material to the full-throated husky moans at the end is quite the evolution. It’s a remarkable showcase in proving just how adaptable a presence she’d already become, and fools they be had they thought she couldn’t pull it off throughout the ‘90s as well. Some of the ‘00s too, I guess.

In this day of streaming, The Immaculate Collection probably isn’t all that essential anymore, but at least it provides a handy ‘ultimate ‘80s Madonna’ playlist without you having to fuss for it yourself.

Peter Gabriel - So

Geffen Records: 1986

The only Peter Gabriel album you're supposed to have, even if you're not a Peter Gabriel fan. Unless, that is, you were already a Peter Gabriel fan, enjoying his work with the O.G. Genesis line-up and his following art-rock solo work. Then So is probably seen as a wack, commercial sell-out of an album, courting easy money with huge hits like Sledgehammer and In Your Eyes. Hell, he even gave this record a proper title after his first four were eponymous. That reeks of corporate interference, and it t’was, his label insisting a title so they could market it easier. Man, did they ever, So a mandatory inclusion in any generic advertising shot of CD collections. It worked though, convincing me to 'splurge' on So after spotting it in a supermarket bargain bin. Anything from the '80s with that much public prominence must have some merit to it beyond the recognizable hits, right?

Sure, although this album feels so ‘80s, it almost hurts. Part of that is strictly the production standard of the time, what with the copious reverb and hall effects the decade adored, so if you can’t stand that sound, walk on by. Granted, Mr. Gabriel was partly responsible for it becoming popular in the first place, among the first employing that distinct flat, echoing drum kick everyone associates with Regean Era rock. It also doesn’t hurt having Daniel Lanois as a co-producer either, most famous for lending his talents to U2’s most endearing work. He, too, has an inescapable ‘80s aesthetic, but his widescreen style definitely suits the ambitious, ultra-dense song-writing of Gabriel, so it’s a good pairing in this case.

You know what else was big in the ‘80s? Issues, man. Globalization was rearing its head, and people in prominent positions were all on that raising awareness shtick, Gabriel no less so than any of his musical peers. Opener Red Rain drops plenty of issues afflicting the world, the title alone a not-so subtle metaphor for the blood spilled for unjust causes. Meanwhile, gentle ballad Don’t Give Up narrows the focus closer to Gabriel’s country dealing with Thatcherism. And despite the upbeat funk of the song suggesting otherwise, Big Time is a condemnation of ‘80s consumerism. An unaware Patrick Bateman would approve if he wasn’t already a fan of Collins-era Genesis.

Finally, with world issues the hot topic of social conscience ‘80s folk, it also brought in more awareness of ethnic music. Gabriel was already a fan of such fusions, but with some pop sensibilities, he helped bring worldy sounds to Western radios in Sledgehammer (Eastern woodwinds!), Red Rain (Africa!), and Mercy Street (Brazilian forró!).

That didn’t stop him from getting his art-rock on at the end of So though. We Do What We’re Told has a meditative, rhythmic drone going for it, while This Is The Picture gets beat-jammy with Nile Rodgers and... wait, that bass tone. Could it be...? *checks credits* Laswell. Again with the Laswell. What is he, the Kevin Bacon of bass?

The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

Capitol Records: 1966/2001

Pull up for a tantalizing tale of talented musicians of the '60s. The Beatles were going from strength to strength, Paul McCartney and John Lennon riding an unprecedented creative streak into Revolver. Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys, despite coming off old-fashioned in the wake of the British Invasion, sought out to do nothing less than top that album. And so he did, Pet Sounds the results. Gobsmacked, the Liverpool Four went out of their way to top that album, which they did with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. So Brian had to top them once more, which he tried to with Smile ...except he had a nervous breakdown and mothballed most of those sessions, save some psychedelic weirdness and one of the greatest pop songs of all time in Good Vibrations.

Whoops, I'm getting ahead of things there. Then again, can it be helped with Pet Sounds, an album so ahead of its time, rock scholars are still finding tantalizing tidbits to study? It’s utterly insane the amount of production poured into all these simple little pop jangles and ballads, some of which seemingly used for little more than a lark. The out-of-tune mandolin that opens Wouldn’t It Be Nice is a mere precursor to the ‘kitchen-sink’ approach Wilson implemented. It’s like he scoured studios for any instrument or relic and found ways of fitting them in. “A Theremin? Sure, it’ll make for a neat capper on I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times.” Small surprise the BBC did a new version of God Only Knows this year that only matched the original by throwing in every damn musician they could find into the session. Even then, I still prefer the original’s simple clippity-clop percussion over a full orchestra.

Pet Sounds is a triumph of studio wizardry, no doubt, but technical achievement does not timeless music make. What elevated this album above so many others are the themes Brian brings up, poignant coming of age reflections that often escape us until well after the fact. For instance That’s Not Me touches upon the romanticism of moving to the big city in search of fame, fortune and romance, which many young hopefuls in the ‘60s did in earnest. Yet here’s one guy realizing such pursuits were foolhardy, nor his dreams – he only did it because everyone else was doing it. I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times follows upon such sentiments, while I Know There’s An Answer (aka: Hang On To Your Ego) calls out the stubborn few who figure they know better regardless for the confused, isolated sorts they are. Couple this with love songs among the most mature you’ll ever hear (God Only Knows, Don’t Talk, Here Today), and you’ve an album thematically miles away from the carefree, youthfully exuberant ‘fun-in-the-sun’ vibes The Beach Boys were known for. Heady stuff, which few could relate to – at least until everyone went glum in the ‘70s, and many more in the decades that followed. Brian Wilson just got there first.

2 Unlimited - No Limits!

Quality Music: 1993

Oh man, I could so do another 'anecdote review' with this CD, it being the first disc I ever owned and all. But nay, Nightflight To Venus was once enough for such a gimmick, so I'll leave the personal stories aside. All I'll say is had I bought my initial choice of Naughty By Nature's 19 Naughty III instead on that fateful day, my musical development could have been drastically different during those early, impressionable teenage years.

No Limits! came out a year after 2 Unlimited's debut, and the group was quick to transition from a charming (lambasted?) Belgian techno-rave act to a proper pop sensation. They couldn’t do it re-hashing the same ol’ dance formula as before though. They needed cleaner production, tighter song-writing, and a new anthem that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, their early singles of Get Ready For This and Twilight Zone weren’t just flukes cashing in on a hot sound. Something with a hook instantly recognizable and so simple anyone could hum it, with a chorus to match and a title that not only could be used for the LP-proper, but even have tongue-in-cheek playfulness as it related to the group name. Got it, R.U.O.K.!

Look, I’m actually sick of No Limit at this moment. Between it being the first track on this album, plus having just done the single, I’ve now heard seven iteration of the damned song in a row, five of which are practically identical to each other. I’ll still enjoy it the next time I hear it at a hockey game, but right now, I’m burnt out on it – I’ve discovered there is a limit to how much No Limit I can take.

Fortunately, No Limits! doesn’t retread that mind-numbing path quite so often. Maximum Overdrive and Let The Beat Control Your Body are similar tunes, in that they go for the ‘dumb-fun’ dance anthem as No Limit does, but the rest of this album’s surprisingly diverse within the limited range 2 Unlimited set upon itself. Tribal Dance was the other big single from here, far cleverer in offering high-octane dance music compared to forgotten tracks like Break The Chain and Kiss Me Bliss Me (literally, I forgot the latter existed!). Showing some musical class, Mysterious is a well-crafted dance-pop song, while Faces and The Power Age have Ray and Anita injecting world issues into their lyrics, using their gained popularity for more than mindless musical escapism. On the lighter side of things is a happy little number called Throw The Groove Down (such whimsical fun!) and a nice bit o’ bliss from Invite Me To Trance.

I’m not gonna’ sell you on No Limits! if you aren’t already sold on 2 Unlimited, but for such a quick sophomore effort, it’s leaps beyond Get Ready. Hell, even the ballads, Where Are You Now and Shelter For A Rainy Day, are pleasant numbers to end the album on. Me, giving praise to euro-dance ballads. That just don’t happen, mang!