XTC - Skylarking (1986)

Steve:

Skylarking was one of many records I heard for the first time while working at Spec's Records in Miami, and it was also my introduction to XTC as a band. XTC debuted in 1978 as a rather zany and hyperactive new wave band, but after replacing original keyboardist Barry Andrews (who went on to form Shriekback) with expert guitarist and multi-instrumentalist Dave Gregory in 1979, the band's subsequent trajectory moved quickly in the direction of more sophisticated songs and imaginative production. Main songwriter and guitarist/singer Andy Partridge was a prolific writer whose creativity was peaking by the mid 1980s. Secondary singer/songwriter and bassist Colin Moulding was less prolific but could always be counted on for 2-4 great songs per album, and his more easygoing musical personality was a welcome breather spaced between Partridge's more intense songs.

Perhaps most significantly to XTC's development, Partridge had a severe nervous breakdown during the tour for 1982's double album English Settlement. Finally cracking under financial pressure and the horrible conditions bands were expected to endure on tour (bad food, lack of sleep, etc), Partridge forced the group to carry on as a studio-only band. As with the Beatles, Brian Wilson and Steely Dan before them, concentrating on studio craft while freed from the pressures of touring allowed XTC's creativity to flourish. By 1986, the band was teamed up with renowned producer/musician Todd Rundgren, who played a big part in crafting the masterpiece that is Skylarking.  

The album flows like one long suite, loosely following the theme of birth (the nature-coming-to-life celebration of "Summer's Cauldron") to death (Moulding's chilling funeral march "Sacrificial Bonfire"). The whole first side feels like a mini-suite meditation on nature. "Summer's Cauldron" segues neatly into the George Harrison-like "Grass", a slyly suggestive song about a romantic meetup to roll around on the grass with one's lady friend, a theme continued on "The Meeting Place". These two songs (both by Moulding) express both light and dark aspects of the same event, and the more uncertain mood of the latter song provides a bridge into a trio of pessimistic Partridge songs. "That's Really Super, Supergirl" is a sarcastic put-down (albeit with a super-fine guitar solo by Dave Gregory), and both "Ballet for a Rainy Day" and "1000 Umbrellas" continue the nature theme with their dark and sad rain imagery. Finishing off the side is "Season's Cycle", which ties it all together on a happier note, pondering the wonderful ebb and flow of nature.

Side 2 largely concerns the pressures of adulthood, beginning with the catchy "Earn Enough for Us", which I'm still amazed was never released as a single. With my favorite lyrics on the album, Partridge details a man's frank talk with his wife about their financial worries and how hard they have to work to make ends meet:

I can take humiliation

And hurtful comments from the boss

I'm just praying by the weekend

I can earn enough for us

For the second verse, he expresses his mixed feelings about having a baby on the way:

So you're saying that we're gonna be three

Now a father's what I'll be

Don't get me wrong, I'm so proud

But the belt's already tight

I'll get another job at night

Moulding's "Big Day" also takes a look at the darker, uncertain side of a happy life event, in this case marriage. He offers supportive but cautionary advice to a friend about to tie the knot:

Are you deafened by the bells?

Could be heaven, could be hell

In a cell for two

Big day come and big day go

Life goes on after the show

But will your love have the fire and glow

Like on the big day?

Marital infidelity is then touched upon with Partridge's "Another Satellite", a song that benefits from its spare, echoey production emulating a drift through space. Existential doubt and the question of religious faith then begin to enter the picture with "The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul" and "Dear God". The latter song has since become one of XTC's most famous. In an amusing twist of fate, Partridge originally buried "Dear God" (which he felt was embarrassingly heavy-handed) as the B-side for the "Grass" single, but radio got a hold of it and made it a moderate hit. It was subsequently added to the Skylarking album (the version I have) in place of "Mermaid Smiled".

Moulding handles the last two songs, "Dying" and "Sacrificial Bonfire", as a the most chilling and unsettling end to an XTC album since "Complicated Game" on their Drums and Wires album (check that tune out with volume up, for extra credit). Unlike the manic freakout of that latter song, however, Moulding's death-themed songs are calm and filled with sad resignation. The first deals with the literal end of one's life, but "Sacrificial Bonfire" uses a death-march musical style to accompany lyrics concerning mob mentality and the questionable tendency to satisfy the masses by throwing away blame and letting barbaric behavior take over:

The scapegoat blood spilled

Spittled and grilled

It crackled and spat

And children grew fat on the meat

One of my favorite albums of the 1980s, Skylarking has enjoyed high praise from rock critics as a whole, although few would consider XTC to be a prog band. In a way, they were the Steely Dan of the 80s, making undeniably pop-inclined music with extremely high production standards and a deep and incisive knack for lyrics that, at their best, cut to the quick. As is often the case with great works of art, the making of the album was a difficult process, mainly because of personality clashes between the obstinate (yet brilliant) Partridge and Rundgren, who had always taken a strong hand in producing albums for other artists. But Partridge did not care for outsiders directing his band. In the final analysis, I think Rundgren did a world of good by creating the running order and the suite-like flow of the program. Whatever misgivings Partridge still has about the album, even he can't deny the quality of songs here.

Dan:

I approach Skylarking as a musical archeologist studying a "found artifact" from the mid-80s, a time when I had unintentionally become distant from music like this. I didn't know the difference between XTC and INXS. So I'll pretend to have unearthed this artifact 37 years after its creation and offer inferences about the culture in those ancient times.

These songs are similar to many others in terms of the chosen instruments, chord changes, melodies and so forth. Nothing special seems to distinguish XTC from the larger landscape of popular bands of the era except for the outstanding production, including the string arrangement on "1000 Umbrellas." There is a much greater spatial presence that enhances the listening experience. It must have been crafted carefully in the recording studio.

As my colleague Steve points out, the lyrics reveal a great deal of angst and uncertainty about life, love, survival, and death. I'd guess this was a British band. As judged by the title and the charmingly bucolic material that opens the album, I'd also conclude that the songs represent a philosophical position that accepts the difficulties of life as worth the effort. Later, however, more pessimism surfaces, suggesting that the aforementioned struggles are hopeless and overwhelming. To use a term that was in vogue in the 80s, that's a bit of a bummer. 

I would conclude with the observation that the lads who performed, recorded and brought these songs to life are extremely talented. Lots of artifacts I've studied don't offer much in the way of "art," so this is a rare find suitable for enshrinement. Oh, you tell me it was chosen for the MFSL audiophile treatment? That's another reason why this old artifact sounds so amazing today. 

A final discovery from my research: the song "Dear God" is a letter to God that begins with a recitation by a young child, Jasmine Veillette, who was later old enough to take selfies. After Veillette's touching contribution, the letter continues as sung by Andy Partridge, who struggled with his own beliefs and ended up an atheist. As Steve notes, the song does not appear on some of the copies of the album, implying that its content was too personal for the songwriter to include. Since the song is about losing faith in God, that must have been another cultural issue in the 1980s. 

Peter Gabriel - So (1986)

Dan:

In the early 1980s, producer Daniel Lanois came to prominence through his work with Martha and The Muffins, The Shakers, and The Parachute Club. He then began a long association with Brian Eno, which led to Eno's Music for Films and Thursday Afternoon albums, and The Pearl by Harold Budd and Eno. All were ambient music exercises. In 1984, the same year as The Pearl's release, Lanois produced U2's huge hit album The Unforgettable Fire. It should therefore be no surprise to find him producing for Peter Gabriel, first on the soundtrack Birdy and then on So, which he co-produced with Gabriel.

I begin by mentioning Lanois because so much of what happens on So reflects the decisions made by the producers. Specifically, I've noticed in Lanois' productions an emphasis on quiet passages that lead off songs, for example the opening section of "Don't Give Up" on So. It seems like a minor touch, but it helps to set the mood. Critics have also raved about the sonic excellence of So, which of course is due more to the production than anything else. As fans of Genesis know, great albums are not produced in a day like some jazz albums might be. Much of prog rock is subjected to intense scrutiny before, during and after the recording sessions. A producer can create a coherent masterpiece or a shambolic failure, regardless of the skill of the musicians. Lanois and Eno, among others, seem to possess a magic touch whether creating ambient soundscapes, art rock extravaganzas, or both in the same album.

So is something of a phenomenon, considering that the highly principled and critical artist, Peter Gabriel, went off his own tramlines to create a hugely accessible and pop-oriented album. One need only look at "Sledgehammer," the best-known song on the album, for evidence that So was revolutionary. Buoyed by a charming comic book-styled video that played constantly on MTV, "Sledgehammer" was heard everywhere. The song entered daily conversations because it was full of sexual innuendos, such that parents blushed while their kids danced and sang to the music. That was controversial in 1986, but Gabriel claimed he was only singing about things that were frequent topics in soul music in the 1950s and earlier (Billy Eckstine's "Jelly Jelly" dates back to 1941, and Ray Charles' "What'd I Say" with its moans and groans dates to 1959. Not to mention Elvis, of course).

But racy innuendo is no reason to dispute the abundant riches of So. Almost every song has something special to offer. "Red Rain" is the vocal version of a Gabriel nightmare; "Don't Give Up," sung with Kate Bush, is an anthem to the support loved ones can extend to someone "whose dreams have all deserted;" "Mercy Street" is about, uh, mercy; and "In Your Eyes" is one of the greatest love songs ever written. A couple of songs reminiscent of Gabriel's earlier solo work ("We Do What We're Told" and "This Is the Picture") are included for the sake of variety. "Big Time" overcooks the rush of power and success, seemingly to give "Sledgehammer" a boisterous sibling to balance out the album. 

The album cover above is for the UK version on Virgin. The US version on Geffen added the title and performer's name. Apparently, Geffen did not expect US buyers to recognize Gabriel on sight.

Steve:

Much respect to Peter Gabriel and Daniel Lanois for giving the pop audience exactly what it wanted from a Gabriel album in 1986, while still delivering a nuanced recording that holds up after all these years. Security had sold a lot of copies, but mainly on the strength of a single song's (some might say fluke) success. So, on the other hand, was adored as a whole by the public, with several songs becoming deeply entrenched in the public consciousness.

I remember our whole family dancing around the family room to "Sledgehammer" - a great slice of funk pop on its own even without the groundbreaking video. Besides the easy thrills of the singalong chorus, the extended coda (the "show for me / I will show for you" improvisation workout) takes the song to another level, giving the feeling that the awesome party will never end. It's rightfully a classic 80s pop tune, still beloved by many today. I haven't run into anyone who outright hates the song.  

My wife and I chose "In Your Eyes" as our first-dance song at our wedding. I believe this decision originated when that song was performed at a Peter Gabriel concert that we attended (Gabriel was touring in support of the Up album). It's hard to explain the mind-meld that occurred to both of us simultaneously (it also had something to do with the John Cusack film, Say Anything, in which the song was featured), but from that moment on the song became symbolic to us. 

David Sylvian - Gone to Earth (1986)

Dan:

I remember finding Gone to Earth on vinyl at Yesterday and Today Records in Miami sometime in the early 90s. Richard, the proprietor, had acquired a collection of albums from a man whose brother recently died. This was part of the brother's collection. I rarely know the back story of used records, but death is probably a common reason for records ending up in shops like Richard's. Rather than feeling any guilt about picking over an unfortunate person's treasures, I like to think that old records live on in the possession of new owners who appreciate them. There are dozens of other stories that I could tell about finding used records (like the estate liquidation sale of a jazz collection of over 50,000 titles), but that's not for now. 

Gone to Earth is a gorgeous album, both visually and sonically. It spans two full LPs, the first of which continues David Sylvian's dark exploration of his art, accompanied by a few guests, most notably Robert Fripp. Other names that I recognize are guitarists Bill Nelson; B.J. Cole (on pedal steel); pianist John Taylor; saxophonist Mel Collins; drummer Steve Jansen (Sylvian's brother); and, most surprisingly, brass players Harry Beckett and Kenny Wheeler. With the exception of Fripp, who shares writing credits and contributes to over half of the 19 tracks, these guests are inserted sparingly but to enormous effect.

The second record is devoted to instrumental pieces (with two spoken voice segments woven into the music). "The Healing Place" features Bill Nelson's guitar and an intro voice recording read by Joseph Beuys, an avant garde German artist who died in January 1986 during the recording of Gone to Earth. I love those kinds of tributes, which give the music more weight, especially when the words are read by the person who wrote them. "Upon this Earth," the closing track, also includes spoken words by J.G. Bennett, a British author of books on psychology and spirituality, who died in 1974. His recitation concerns the prospect of death, but I don't know its exact source. Although it may seem pretentious, Sylvian's engagement with artists and philosophers from other realms helps me to understand some of the pensive austerity of his music.

Aside from such cerebral allusions, the first half of Gone to Earth contains some great songs that do not need to be approached intellectually. As with the best music in any genre, Gone to Earth touches emotions directly through poetic lyrics and musical composition. Sylvian's unique voice unveils the experience of relationships, conflict, and other aspects of the human condition. The melodies and arrangements are full of hummable hooks and sonic surprises. 

One of the best albums of the 1980s!

Steve:

Gone to Earth remains my favorite album in Sylvian's discography, whether in Japan or on solo projects. Its double album format gives him plenty of room to stretch out, with 7 vocal pieces that unfold at an unhurried pace on the first disc, and an entire second LP with which to explore more ambient instrumental territory. I first owned this album on CD, finding a copy in a used CD store in Durham NC whilst living in that area in the year after college. I knew it fairly well by that time, thanks to Dan, but was disappointed to realize that about half of the ambient stuff on the second record was excised from the CD version in order to fit on a single disc. As if we wouldn't notice. Many years later I found a vinyl copy at Wax 'n' Facts Records in Atlanta, and not only was the sound much better, but I also now had the entire program to listen to as intended. (Dan comment: There are several 2-CD versions with the entire program plus bonus tracks. They are European releases issued between 2003 and 2014. The sound is vastly improved over the truncated CD version.)

The instrumental stuff is every bit as worthy as the vocal pieces. While more instrumentally spare, Sylvian lays down mood-setting canvasses of sound, over which Robert Fripp or Bill Nelson add instrumental color. The result is not unlike some of Brian Eno's instrumental work, especially in its propensity for creating a visual image with sound.

Of the vocal pieces, the spacious and butter-smooth "Before the Bullfight" always commands my attention, as does the more rhythmically and melodically agile "Taking the Veil" which opens the album on an inviting note. I've put Gone to Earth on the stereo with mixed company and have always gotten a positive response. This is the kind of music perfect for relaxed and intelligent conversation.