Records

Rip It Up, Issue 101, 1 December 1985, Page 26

Records

Sade Promise Epic Sdde's first album, Diamond Life , was perfect FM fodder: cool, catchy and inoffensive enough to prevent us changing the station (that is, before they’ve been highrotating it for months on end). And for those of us who bought the damned thing, thrashed it for a fortnight and then put it away never to get it out again, there was a lesson here. We'd been seduced by superficial charm without ever properly listening. Indeed, the very cool of Sade's muse discouraged close attention. That mellow delivery and gently chugging beat alllowed a whole album to slip by, leaving one barely aware of how long it had been on (or off). To a large extent Promise presents more of the same. From the brisk latino of 'Sweetest Taboo’ to the well-mannered funk of album-closer ’Maureen’, we are soothed, not shaken or stirred. And very prettily too, let's admit it. The band knows exactly where its

appeal lies. But Sade is also showing inclinations to expand its range with a few tracks of slightly more ambition. As such however, they not only show a real growth but also reveal the band’s limitations. For example ‘ls It A Crime?' is a lovely, brooding, dynamically charged ballad the band obviously felt proud enough of to open the album. Yet its execution, while competent and pleasant, never achieves the passion it could in the hands of more soulful musicians. Ms Adu's voice in particular is so cool it can almost go cold. Similarly restrictive performances are dealt to 'Mr Wrong' and 'Fear' on side two.

While is may be easy to criticise Sade by mentally comparing them to great performers of torchy, jazzinclined song styles, the band does deserve credit. Diamond Life and now Promise may well serve a similar purpose in the 80s to that of a group like the Peddlers in the 60s: that is gently introducing a new audience to the headier flavours and tangier tastes of other musics by administering the first doses via an acceptably diluted brew.

Peter Thomson

Scattered Order Career of the Silly Thing Volition Jayrem deserve hearty thanks for their continued importing of overseas music. Thanks to them, good Aussie independent labels like Hot and Volition are getting a chance to reach aNZ audience. Scattered Order are a unique proposition, combining commercial FM funk with cut-up tapes, synths that go “ggrr!" and"hisss!" and monotonal relating of lyrics that read like a William S. Burroughs novel. The songs here are carefully arranged in non-scattered order. As the record goes on, they get progressively stranger, with the blatant commercial sound of the first track 'IOOO Gene Autreys’ being gradually stripped away on each following song.

'Cut You Up' sounded best, an industrial funk-up, and the last song The Entire Combine/Capital of Sweden' was definitely weirdest, with a plastic surgeon chatting away in the rhythm track.

At the same time bland and, beneath that, bizarre, Career of the Silly Thing is, we 11... extremely interesting.

Paul McKessar

Dread, Beat & Blood Tribute To A Friend Aotearoa Tihei Mauriora Jayrem The quest for indigenous music that truly reflects 20th century New Zealand ethnic backgrounds, culture and issues has been a long one. Flerbs started something very important at the turn of this decade. Now these two albums, from a label which never ceases to surprise, show what dedication can achieve. Each work reflects divergent influences, but each has a similar message: We are a divided society, and we will have no peace until we accept the truths of our past and make amends for the future.

Dread, Beat & Blood are Wellington Rastas. The movement has been established here for several years now, but is still regarded askance. Rasta and Maori have much in common, in terms of spiritual values and a deep love for the land. Maori Rastas marched on the Hikoi to Waitangi. Maori youth found a hero in Bob Marley, bringing about a fusion of Carribean and Polynesian music which is becoming a vital cultural force.

Tribute To A Friend expresses unity and indentity in eight songs, seven of them original. The sole cover, 'Primitive Man', was written by the Australian reggae group the Fiappy Cannibals. It's about the struggle of the Aborigines, “the big red stone" being Ayers Rock, now back in its rightful hands. 'Waitangi', the most forthright song, drives home its condemnation of the treaty with an impassioned haka. 'Nyabingi Tribesmen' were an African freedom movement, struggling to overthrow colonial oppression. The local comparisons are far from comfortable, but then they're not meant to be.

The band takes its name from Linton Kwesi Johnson’s debut LR also lifting a line or two from one of his poems in a tribute song to Blair Peach. The production is as good as you’ll get anywhere in this country, deserves to be played loud, and the hint of dubbing on some tracks suggests a 12-inch single wouldn't be a bad idea. Aotearoa, also from Wellington, are making modern Maori music, pure and simple. You could call this the flip side of ‘Poi E’, the darker feelings of a race struggling to retain its language and its culture.

There are still teachers alive today who remember strapping Maori children for speaking their own language. We now have to spend thousands of dollars repairing the damage. What Aotearoa iack in musical sophistication they make up in the strength of their sentiments. Five of the seven tracks are sung in Maori, a melodic language even when spoken. The band is also blessed with five excellent singers, four of them women. The outstanding is Kara Rangihau’s 'Haruru Mai', a lament for the loss of the native forests. The vocal harmonies throughout are flawless. The lyrical themes draw extensively from Maori myths and legends, with contemporary application. The struggle for land rights, for equality and justice, and above all, to be Maori. The message is specifically aimed at Maori youth, but it will be the Pakeha’s loss to ignore it. These albums are musical expressions of a rising tide, of people on the move.

Duncan Campbell