Records

Rip It Up, Issue 72, 1 July 1983, Page 20

Records

Russell Brown

Malcolm McLaren Duck Rock Charisma

The idea of putting together an album of ethnic folk music aimed at the disco didn't seem a very good one when McLaren first announced it. But then a pale green-toothed youth didn't seem a likely candidate for Face of the Seventies either. So he set off on his international trek with producer Trevor Horne and, after a long silence, came up with 'Buffalo Gals', an amalgam of square dance and contemporary disco that took the piss out of everybody concerned. It was a great single. The people who felt affronted by it probably took The Great Rock n' Roll Swindle too seriously too. Like the soundtrack to a spedup travelogue, this album picks up pieces of Latin America, Africa and backwoods USA and lands them in New York. The resulting hybrids work to varying degrees. The best is still 'Buffalo Gals' (here in extended form) and the worst is another attempt at square dance, 'Duck for the Oyster'. The quiet, beautiful 'Obalata' (based on Afro Cuban religious music) is an unlikely success, as is 'Punk It Up', a Zulu song about the Sex Pistols.

The tracks are stitched together by NY DJs the World's Famous Supreme Team. Excerpts from their shows (the "uh-huh" in the single version of Buffalo Gals' is part of a longer telephone conversation which appears on the album) are cut in and out with some real sharpness. It's a good idea but hearing the same voices say the same words begins to wear after a while.

Horne must take some of the credit for the album's success. All the sounds are BIG (the recording of the "scratch" sound of the DJ's stylus on vinyl is quite awesome) and, naturally, clean. He's had the good sense to fade McLaren's vocals back where necessary and the ability to make those vocals

sound OK when they're up front. True to form, McLaren has exploited everybody he has touched especially the Zulus, from whom he has been accused of stealing tunes. He has prostituted the traditional music of various indigenous peoples for commercial gain. He has exploited those people themselves by roping them in as backing singers to give otherwise nondescript songs like Double Dutch' ethnic credibility. He'd exploit himself if he could maybe he is.

But hell, that doesn't matter a bit. It's almost expected of him. What does matter is that he has made a fresh, entertaining record that meshes with today's trends in the most contrary way possible. A record that makes you smile. Malcolm, you're a star.

Russell Brown

Gabi Delgado Mistress Virgin Gabi Delgado and Robert Gorl once made up DAF, the Deutsche Amerikanische Freundshaft. It no longer exists and Gabi no longer indulges in mechanical machismo through synthesisers. He has discovered the dancefloor. Mistress is vast in its influences. Prior to its conception Delgado travelled to Colombia, through Puerto Rico and finally up to New York. There he put together a working unit. Renowned jazz trumpeter Manfred Schoof combined with NY funk bassist Raoul Walton and Swiss guitarist and electronics whizz Stephan Wittwer. Add that to former Can drummer Jaki Liebezit and you begin to understand the presence this record possesses.

Gone is the uniformity of Robert Gorl's Germanic sequencers. Gone also are the German lyrics. Gabi has chose to sing in English and Spanish. His sub-rap talking vocals now blend into the music, becoming more of an instrument than a rhythm punctuator. This results in more natural song structures. Melody and a strong dance beat have replaced the amphetamine urgency of DAF's better works.

Mistress is a very modern album. It is not a rehash of old ideas. It has pop tendencies in 'History of A Kiss' and 'Young Lions'. It has atmospheric brilliance in the title track. It is a fine album.

Gabi is a clever chappie. Mark Phillips Robert Palmer Pride Island With Robert Palmer it's always been the too-smooth-to-be-credible syndrome. A pity because beneath the Vogue presentation he's been touching on some unassuming but intelligent R&B and reggae developments. His obvious singles' landmarks like his cover of Toots' 'Pressure Drop', the R&B of 'Bad Case of Loving You' and the smouldering funk brilliance of 'Johnny and Mary', reveal his gift for endowing essentially black idioms with a 'whiteness' that reinterprets and actually adds potency. Palmer's respect for his influences (Redding, Gay and ska) and his talent at combining these influences within his own framework has never been better exemplified than on his new album, Pride. Using 'Johnny and Mary' as his guideline, Palmer unfolds his best and most complete album to date. He's found a unity of sound and style and a consistency in songwriting that has eluded him in the past. Side One, beginning with the title track and traversing through the high spots of “Want You More' and his single 'You Are In My System', is deliberately low key in its latent power. The keyboards are menacing and the rhythm section of Don Wynn, Michael Dawe (drums) and Frank Blair (bass) kicks like a mule. Side Two breathes a little easier with 'lt's Not Difficult' and a

perfect version of Kool and the Gang's "You Can Have It' but finishes with > the stifling exotic threat of The Silver Gun'. My advice is to drop the preconceptions just this once because Robert Palmer's Pride is one very good album. George Kay Marine Girls Lazy Ways Cherry Red First listen headphones. Sparse and warm, a good combination, but with only guitar, bass and minimal percussion used similarly in most songs, things start to sound samey. No standout melodies, everything quite pleasant, but little more. No spine, or is this an honest expression of quiet female strengths? Maybe, but a wimp's a wimp, male or female. Mind you, the strongest song, 'Fever' (the only cover) sounds good with just jazzy bass, maracas and stuff, but bland vocals. Peggy Lee, the Cramps and David Cassidy (true!) all do it miles better.

Second listen doing the dishes. Should be a 17-year-old reviewing this. She'd ignore the stolen lines and the ungainly attempts to play a music made best before she was born. She'd empathise with and unselfconsciously, undemandingly, enjoy the gentle, fresh-sounding tunes. As 13 years her senior and the wrong sex I hear a lack of cohesion, melody, individuality and character. "We give you fever," they mumble. They give me a mild sniffle. Jane Fox's songs seem more superficially interesting than those of the more introspective (and better known) Tracey Thorne. Jay of They Were Expendable (ChCh) writes and sings better. Phantom Fourth (Akld) play similar songs much more inventively. Maybe a 17-year-old wouldn't think so. Third listen late night / low volume. It works a lot better played quietly. The lyrics are rather good and have more prominence at lower level. Thorne's songs, in particular, sound better. The sleeve should include the words, "Play Soft. Small music. Not to be used at parties." OK, so it's growing and unfortunately three listens are all I can give it. Most of what I've said in the first two thirds of this

review still stands but to a much diminished degree. I think 111 end up quite liking it.

Chris Knox

Legionnaires Dance Exponents Live At Mainstreet Mushroom It was a good night. Mainstreet only really measures up as a venue when it's pretty full and on this night they closed the doors. There was a real "atmosphere." But whether the live album works is another matter. Did you have to be there to get the joke? The Legionnaires' side is smooth, elegant and well-executed. Perhaps predictably, the highlight is the stirring 'Billy Bold'. Graham Brazier even gets the crowd to sing along. But when he tells the singers during an overlong version of 'Blue Lady': "Ah, that's beautiful much more of this and I'll start crying," the cynicism is pretty telling. The set's major fault is its pacing. When you do it laid-back it's all too easy to sound merely tired. Maybe the Legionnaires are tired. It would be nice to hear some fresh songs but I hear they're not writing much any more. Brazier and co have always had something special but entropy's catching up fast. All the Dance Exponents' faults stand out glaringly on this record. They're not the greatest musicians, Jordan Luck's voice is severely limited and there's a large element of banality in what they do. But, perhaps as only a live recording could, this testifies to their greatest quality an overwhelming sense of fun.

They bowl through their six tracks with the impression that they're really enjoying what they're doing and it's infectious. Where the Legionnaires base themselves on a sense of Cool the Dance Exponents make it seem an outmoded concept. Mr Bowie has been quoted this year as calling for an end to Cool, but the Dance Exponents are uncooler than he'll ever be and it's neat. I don't think either side of this disc can be considered a classic New Zealand rock recording but that doesn't matter. What matters is that you didn't have to be there.