David Sylvian - Secrets of the Beehive (1987)

Dan:

David Sylvian's solo career easily surpassed anything he did in his former group, Japan. Secrets of the Beehive was his third full album before his two collaborations with Holger Czukay, of Can fame. The earlier Brilliant Trees (1984) is similar to Secrets of the Beehive, while Gone to Earth (1986) adds Robert Fripp and leans in the direction of ambient music with vocals on only half the tunes. 

Beehive is a wonderful album, completely composed and arranged by Sylvian. It's moodier than Japan's 1980 album, Gentlemen Take Polaroids (reviewed earlier), and sparser in terms of instrumentation. I enjoy the variety of guitarists used (David Torn, Phil Palmer, and Sylvian himself), the trumpet of Mark Isham, Steve Jansen (Sylvian's brother) on percussion, and most of all the incredible bass of the legendary Danny Thompson. Listen to the opening bars of "The Boy With the Gun," and you will surely agree. Throughout, the spatial arrangements allow each instrument to be heard clearly, and their interaction behind the soft vocals is quite moving.

Beyond the 1980s, it's hard to get a firm grasp on Sylvian's recording projects. The bleak and mostly improvised Rain Tree Crow (1991) had a following, but it felt directionless to me. (Coming from the jazz world, I have pretty high standards for free improvisation). I've not heard either of his 1999 releases: Approaching Silence (designed to be heard during a visual art exhibition) or Dead Bees on a Cake. I avoided a later project with Derek Bailey (Blemish, 2003) and everything else since The First Day, his mostly successful 1993 collaboration with Robert Fripp. Ryuichi Sakamoto has also collaborated with Sylvian on a variety of projects, continuing their first encounter on Gentlemen Take Polaroids. The projects are scattered in various places like much of Sylvian's discography. 

I think we're lucky that Sylvian focused on making albums with Japan and as a solo artist between 1980 and 1989. Secrets of the Beehive, Brilliant Trees, and Gone to Earth are all understated (by rock standards) but full of thoughtful songs and expert playing. I consider them to be minor masterpieces. 

Steve:

Gone to Earth may be my clear favorite Sylvian recording, but Secrets of the Beehive is nearly as impressive, albeit with a very different focus. Sylvian's albums are all fairly mellow on average, but Beehive is even more understated and spare than normal for him. However, he has made excellent choices of collaborators - particularly in David Torn and Danny Thompson - who consistently paint their unique sounds around the soft, flowing songs and provide no end of excitement even when their paintbrush strokes are barely a whisper in the mix.  

Secrets of the Beehive has aged incredibly well too. Were I hearing it for the first time today, I would be surprised to learn it was released in 1987, a time when even the most sophisticated pop artists in their most organic moods produced albums with a recognizably 1980s sheen, for better or worse. Pianos, acoustic guitars, upright bass, brushed drums and a bucketload of ambience all contributed to a very natural, easy-on-the-ears album that's perfect for late night chilling out.

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. 

Japan - Gentlemen Take Polaroids (1980)

Dan:

I remember Steve and his friend Abram talking about Japan, and I was able to sample the band's Tin Drum (1981) album. It was full of interesting sounds and some fascinating songs like "Ghosts" and "Still Life in Mobile Homes." It seemed to combine art-rock and glam with an Asian theme, brought to life in leader David Sylvian's austere vocals. So I checked out Japan's previous album, Gentlemen Take Polaroids. Although still attributed to Japan, it lacked the self-conscious Asian posture and focused more on exotic contemporary themes. 

Polaroids is an exceptional album from start to finish. It's very accessible musically and leans toward understatement rather than upbeat, bashing rock and roll. The title track begins with a pleasantly lilting melody that belies its dark narrative about love and polaroid photography. "Swing" and "My New Career" are the other highlights of the LP's side 1. Side 2 is marred only by the odd cover of a Motown hit, "Ain't That Peculiar," which doesn't mesh with the more sophisticated material penned by Sylvian. The other tracks on side 2 are about dance ("Methods of Dance"), loneliness and isolation ("Nightporter"), and fantasies of adventure to escape isolation ("Taking Islands in Africa"). 

Curiously, the dismal themes on display are uplifted by the music, which is actually quite beautiful. Sylvian's voice rides softly over the melodies, rhythms and subtle chord progressions. These devices would become regular features in Sylvian's later solo albums, especially Brilliant Trees, Secrets of the Beehive, and Gone to Earth. These all remain favorites of mine.

Steve:

Japan emerged from humble, derivative beginnings to arrive at a more sophisticated sound with Gentlemen Take Polaroids. This new direction had been hinted at with their prior album, Quiet Life, which itself was a step forward from the more predictable post-punk of their earlier work.  

I always thought it a little unusual that Dan got so much enjoyment out of Gentlemen; not because it lacked any quality, but because it seemed so close to the New Wave and Synth-pop sounds of the time. But dig a little deeper and it's clear upon close listening that Japan were in a different league than, say, Duran Duran, a band that probably idolized these guys. Duran Duran's debut album especially has several Japan-like moments. 

It was even more remarkable to me that although Dan listened to this album a lot, I hardly ever listened to it until many years later. I don't even recall the anecdote where Dan heard about Tin Drum through me and my friend. However, I do recall hearing Tin Drum several times at Spec's, the Miami record store where I worked as a teenager. My time at Spec's was crucial in nudging my musical tastes from Top 40 Music (with a few oddballs like Talking Heads mixed in) to College Rock (what is now called 80s Alternative and Punk/Hardcore). Japan were one of the many new bands I was exposed to through that store.