Showing posts with label Hipsway. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hipsway. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

July 15, 2009 Earworm



Texas started out stepping into the shoes of Lone Justice (Mach II) which kind of made sense in light of their relationship, via Johnny McElhone, to Hipsway and the soulful voice of lead singer Sharleen Spiteri. Three albums later, interest was lagging so the band sound some way to throw most of pop history into a blender and make something beyond delicious. The result was "White On Blonde", debuting at number 1 on the UK album chart, spawning four hit singles - one of which answers that not often asked question, "What would The Grass Roots sound like if Diana Ross sang lead"..., and being completely ignored in the US.

Adding more beats and another layer of gloss, 1999's "The Hush" also debuted at number 1 and, with the second single, "Summer Son", gave us the best record ABBA never made. I first heard it while being spoiled in business class, comfortably flying to London. Having given up on the band around the time of their second album, it took me forever to figure out who it was. Within hours of getting off the plane, I had picked up a copy of "The Hush", "White On Blonde", and their freshly released "Greatest Hits".

Ten years later, you can still find Dan and I jumping around with hands in the air whenever it hits the decks and you'd have to be pretty wooden to resist. Hands Up!

Thursday, June 26, 2008

June 26,2008 Earworm


Regardless of what anyone thinks about Spandau Ballet's "True" album, it seemed to kick off a small wave of Scottish blue-eyed soul - yet Spandau weren't Scottish... go figure. Not quite sophisipop, and most of the time not quite right, its brief existence yielded a few good moments from the funky Hipsway, the even funkier Love And Money, and the glacially mannered "Feels Like Heaven" by Fiction Factory. Lyrically at odds with its title, "Feels Like Heaven" lists a series of relationship atrocities recognizable to anyone who has stuck around long enough to experience the dark side of familiarity. Or, is it just a list of gripes from a guy close to death and, if so, does thst make it the perfect Goth break-up song? Then again, maybe the heaven to which he is referring is simply a life alone.
I've been wondering for twenty-four years now, still unsure of what he's on about, yet somehow recognizing a kindred spirit. And like Spandau's "True", I'm aware of its shortcomings but I love it for what it is. Whatever that is.