Return to Index H Move onward to I
Paul Hyde
The Big Book of Sad Songs, Vol. 1
BongoBeat
Ralph Alfonso’s BongoBeat records is slowly but surely carving itself a niche as the place to go when former ‘80s artist decide to go the singer-songwriter route.
Kimberley Rew (late of Katrina & The Waves, and still occasionally of the Soft Boys) did it first, with his stellar 2002 album, Great Central Revisted. Now, here comes Paul Hyde, formerly of the Payola$ and Rock & Hyde, with The Big Book of Sad Songs, Vol. 1.
Although he was born and raised in Yorkshire, England, Hyde made the big, transatlantic move to Canada during his teens and, in ‘79, first came to musical prominence as frontman for the Payola$; the group’s biggest hit was probably 1982’s “Eyes of a Stranger.” Hyde and his Payola$ partner in crime, Bob Rock (who would later go on to considerably more prominence as a producer for artists ranging from Cher to Metallica), kept the fire burning throughout the early ‘80s, releasing four albums, the best of them produced by Mick Ronson. (If you’re looking for a sampling of the band’s work, the only way to go is Between A Rock & A Hyde Place: The Best of Payola$.) The group broke up not long after the release of 1985’s David Foster-produced Here’s The World For Ya, but Rock and Hyde went on to release one more album together, entitled Under the Volcano; rather than coast on the Payola$ name, it was attributed simply to Rock & Hyde.
While Rock filled his coffers by working with everyone from Tal Bachman and Bon Jovi to Motley Crue and Veruca Salt, Hyde pretty much dropped out of sight until reappearing with his debut solo album in 2000, the appropriately-titled Living Off The Radar. It showed a man less interested in vocal histrionics and one more comfortable with his age and the mellowing of his musical sensibilities.
Continuing in that vein, The Big Book of Sad Songs, Vol. 1 is Hyde’s first-ever all-acoustic album. Lest there be any concern that the title is intended to be ironic, the first song, “Runner on the Seashore,” completely blows that theory out of the water. “An eagle killed a seagull,” Hyde begins, “plucked him right out of the sky / Took him helpless to the seashore / A circle of crows watched him die / As I ran by, as I ran by.”
Cheery, no?
The song “I Miss My Mind The Most” does indeed feature its title amongst its lyrics, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s preceded by the line, “Of all the things I’ve lost this year.” Hyde admits outright in the liner notes that “this song was inspired by a bumper sticker,” but, aside from those borrowed lines, the remainder of the track’s lyrics transcend the simplicity of its chorus.
When
spring was young, I had a thirst
For standing proud and tall;
I drank the summers full of wine
And fell right into fall.
Winter’s chill with vengeance
came
And proved a cruel host;
Of all the things I’ve lost this
year,
I miss my mind the most.
There’s a link between this album and its predecessor, courtesy of the song “I Want You,” which appears on both records. Hyde comments in his liner notes that, “contrary to what commercials would have us believe, most people are not beautiful. This is a love song for the imperfect majority.” The chorus praises “the quiet girls with fat legs” and “the chubby boys with big heads,” saying of the young and beautiful, “let them roast on the beaches, sun drenched in honey / May all their skies be clear and blue / Let them have their cake and my cake, too.”
Even when you think the album’s taken a turn toward the cheery, as the jolly whistling at the beginning “The Smallest Coin In The Land” suggests, the lyrics belie the music’s tone. “From the condescending search of the mayor’s wife’s purse / Came a token of salvation to his hand / With the disaffected stare of a psyche ward nurse / She leaned to him and whispered / Here be damned / To the smallest coin in the land.”
The Big Book of Sad Songs, Vol. 1 virtually begs for a sequel, so strong is the material...and, yet, the lyrics and vocals come across as so heartfelt that, at the same time, you’d hate to think that Hyde would have to live through enough hardship to come up with another ten songs as sadly beautiful as these.
---originally written for PopMatters.
Astralwerks
/ Honest Jons
Terry Hall’s a man who’s not afraid to flirt with different musical genres...or to stay in any one musical incarnation for too long.
His first appearance on the pop charts came as frontman of the Specials, who were, alongside Madness, the forerunners of the ska revival in the UK during the late ‘70s. From there, he moved on to front Fun Boy Three, who aren’t easily pigeonholed by any particular style, given that they covered George Gershwin’s “Summertime” before Hall composed what would become his best-known ditty: “Our Lips Our Sealed,” later taken to US chart success by the Go-Go’s. After Fun Boy Three had run their course, he formed the Colourfield and took his music in a less experimental, more melodic direction. Two albums later, he was done with that manifestation of his music and started up Terry, Blair, and Anouchka with Blair Booth and Anouchka Groce, which proved to be a one-album deal...much as did his collaboration with Eurythmic Dave Stewart. (The duo called themselves Vegas.) Finally, he broke down and just went solo, releasing two albums in the mid-‘90s: 1995’s Home and 1997’s Laugh.
Since ’97, though, he’s been pretty quiet.
At last, however, he’s broken his silence and teamed up with Mushtaq, former member of Fun^Da^Mental, that’s a whole lot less poppy than anything he’s done since...well, it’s been ages, really. Of the many guises under which he’s performed over the years, this probably lands closest to Fun Boy Three than any of the others.
The Hour Of Two Lights is described on the Astralwerks website as “fusing
the Jewish and Arabic musical cultures which draws upon the duo's own lineage --
Terry Hall being a Polish refugee with a Jewish background and Mushtaq being a
Middle Eastern Muslim.” The album
was released in the UK on Blur frontman Damon Albarn’s Honest Jons label.
Apparently, Albarn, who’d worked with Hall in the past (most notably on
Hall’s Chasing A Rainbow EP), asked Hall to record an album for his
label, to be produced by Mustaq; the two ended up with such a musical rapport,
however, that the end result was a co-headlining gig, so to speak.
Describing the disc to someone proves kind of difficult, however...and the
artists themselves are absolutely hopeless at it.
Hall concedes in the bio for the album, “I don’t think it fits with
anything, really. I don’t know
what it is. Or what it isn’t.”
“It’s nomadic,” suggests Mushtaq.
“And contemporary,” tries Hall.
“Indigenous.”
“But with beats and bass lines.”
If that doesn’t help you in the slightest, you’re not alone.
Certainly, the phrase “Middle Eastern” would not be inappropriate to describe the general feel of The Hour Of Two Lights, particularly given Mushtaq’s fondness for the darabuka as his percussion of choice, not to mention the use on the album of such instruments as the ney (an Iranian wind instrument), the oud (a Arabic lute), and the shenia (a double-reeded oboe favored in India). And, yet, there are credits for “scratch deejaying” and “rap” as well, so it’s far from being locked into any sort of ancient tradition or anything.
The more one listens to The Hour Of Two Lights, the more it grows on you...though it can certainly be a bit off-putting at first if your frame of reference to Terry Hall is predominantly his recent solo albums and the songs he’s written with Ian Broudie for the Lightning Seeds. Additionally, Hall doesn’t take lead vocals on all the songs; vocal contributions are offered by Abdul Latif Assaly, Eva Katzler, Nathalie Barghach, Romany Rad, and, yes, Damon Albarn chimes in, too, though it doesn’t clarify who adds what to which song. (Best guest: our man Damon is on “Ten Eleven,” a track on which he claims a co-writing credit.) Sometimes, even when Hall is on a track, it takes him awhile to show up. “The Silent Wail,” for instance, does indeed begin with a long, mournful wail, and it’s far from a silent one; when Hall finally comes in at the 2:30 mark, however, the song kicks into gear and stays that way ‘til it ends. Other highlights of the disc are “Stand Together,” which could pass for a Fun Boy Three outtake without much trouble at all, “A Tale Of Woe,” arguably the most successful blending of the album’s world elements.
The Hour Of Two Lights certainly isn’t pop music in the sense that the average working class sod in the US or UK view it, but the fault there surely lies as much in our narrow definition of pop music as it does anything else. Going in with an open mind, The Hour Of Two Lights can expand one’s musical horizons considerably.
Not that Terry Hall probably had that in mind when he recorded it, mind you; his horizons have been expanded for ages.
(originally appeared on PopMatters.com)
DRT
http://www.johnwesleyharding.com
(originally appeared in Amplifier Magazine)