The cost of dancing

Press, 15 December 1983, Page 14

The cost of dancing

GANG OF FOUR “Hard” (EMI EMC2OB). Having recovered from the shock of seeing my favourite band limping around a disco on the “Is It Love” video, I can only admit disappointment with “Hard.” Each song is at the same pace (dance!) as the last, and the Gang’s traditional cut-and-thrust has dissolved. As a modern dance disc, “Hard” works well, but as the single has crept only into the fringes of all charts sighted, the Gang may not make more friends with this new approach. The biggest mistake was when they disposed of Hugo Burnham, who is easily the best drummer from any of the punk-era bands. He has been replaced by a drum machine, which, interestingly, uses many Hugorhythms in the “Songs Of the Free” style. Jon King is still deadpanning the vocals, and the lyrics are now personal politics instead of the other kind. No-one on the dancefloor wants to know about the bomb anyway. Andy Gill, one of the most inventive guitarists of the age, still manages some tortuous sounds, but they are generally submerged in the funk. The sad truth is that the Gang of Four have lost their individuality, to their cost. KING SUNNY ADE “Synchro System” (Island L 38131). The King, with his African Beats band, is one of that intriguing breed, a local superstar. Just as Bob Seger never needed to leave Detroit to be a rich man (unfortunately he did), King Sunny Ade sells thousands of albums in Nigeria and is a big celebrity at home. African music was last year’s trendy groove, but the band-waggons have moved on and we are left with the latest proof that good music is truly international. I don’t understand any of the lyrics on “Synchro System” (they being sung in a

Nigerian dialect), but the music is superb. On his first mass release, “JuJu Music,” the King swamped his native rhythms with very awkward slide guitar sounds. It seemed a rather contrived attempt to snag a wider audience. The effect on this album is far more relaxed and natural. The juju rhythm is spotlighted in a strong percussion mix, and the King and his axe (delightfully depicted on the rear cover) meet only occasionally, and usefully. • Although side one only comes to life with the last track, “Maajo,” when the record is flipped King Sunny’s seduction takes hold. The title track and its reprise are conquering sounds, bearing a very slight resemblance to the Bo Diddley beat. “Synchro System” will reward any adventurous buyer. Those who enjoyed Malcolm McLaren’s “Duck Rock” are encouraged to check this beat. THE COMSAT ANGELS “Land” (Festival 38098). After a break of more than a year, the Comsats are back with a new producer, Mike Howlett, the

man who flew A Flock of Seagulls to fame. After a long career with only a moderate international following but some excellent releases, the band have obviously gone for Success with "Land.” But the hollowness of their sound has not altered. Generally, the Comsats’ albums have been only average, with two or three outstanding tracks. That ratio has not altered, and the uncomfortable bit is that the best song is “Independence Day,” originally a hit in 1980. Howlett has made a spectacular job of adding nothing to a simple yet superb song. Its personal punch remains, but it is a sign of despej-ation that it has been included, with little structural change. The new hit attempt, “Won’t You Stay Tonight,” features a stark keyboard swirl and Stephen Fellows’ dark-and-damp vocals, two Comsats assets when used well. Although side one has the strength to support those two songs, nothing from side two is memorable after repeated plays. Which has me wondering if a line from the Comsats’ 1981 45, “Do the Empty House,” is the only way to end this review — “I have seen the signs and they all say ‘too late’.” THE DOORS “Alive She Cried” (Elektra 60269-4). The Doors’ studio albums now sell faster than they did when the band was “alive.” But this, their third live collection, deserves to do no better than “An

American Prayer,” the muddy music-and-poetry set released in 1978. On “Alive She Cried,” previously ‘lost’ live tapes display The Doors in typical performance form — once the lyrics run out, Ray Manzarek dribbles on the keyboards for several minutes. That is the ploy used on “Light My Fire,” which Jim Morrison never used to like performing. Near the end of the song, Morrison intones his “Graveyard Poem,” which makes the version collectable, I suppose. “Moonlight Drive” also includes his “Horse'Latitudes” verse. The never-released version of “Little Red Rooster” shows why it was not issued until now — it didn’t deserve to be. The Doors were masterfully mean on lust epics, but rhythm and blues was not their style. Finally we get to hear The Doors plunder “Gloria,” but, like “Light My Fire,” it is too long, and probably too long ago. “You Make Me Real” and “Love Me Two Times” are most faithful to the studio versions, but the only track of genuine interest on the album is “WASP (Texas Radio and the Big Beat).” Instead of the expected instant crescendo, Morrison slows it to a jazzy poem. It lasts two minutes, the only minutes of real value here. New converts to The Doors certainly wouldn’t want this ahead of “The Doors,” “Morrison Hotel,” or “L.A. Woman.” For vinyl junkies only.

- DAVID SWIFT