With Prefab Sprout‘s Steve McQueen, we have another stellar example of how sophisticated the 80’s U.K. charts really were (as mentioned a couple of reviews ago, Lloyd Cole and the Commotions’ Rattlesnakes is another modest chart success anomaly). Most North Americans would probably think Prefab Sprout is the latest frozen vegetable medley from Arctic Gardens and that Paddy McAloon is an Irish beer.
One of the reasons I’m so motivated to keep this article series going is because I can finally share the rationale behind why something is great. It’s partly a self-revelatory exercise; partly flogging who I perceive to be the under appreciated; partly indulgent nostalgia; partly an opportunity to sit down and listen to something in-depth from start to finish. As I have previously mentioned, so much of the beauty behind older albums has more to do with my amazement at the pulse of popular music, sans internet, particularly in the U.K.. Pop music has changed a lot since then, and so has the path to fame and recognition. Not saying this is good or bad (who among us can argue against the internet’s role in properly exposing great talent), it’s just very very different. More flashes in the pan (which I think is a positive thing for artistic freedom’s sake), more saturation, but I feel too, less emotional intensity. Maybe the word I’m looking for here is soul.
A shorter journey has a lot of implications.
I’m not going to get derailed by the “paying your dues” argument, anyway. What I will say is that Steve McQueen packs more emotional punch in two songs than most albums are remotely capable of, easily containing the most beautiful love songs ever recorded in the history of modern music. How to describe the specific style they pack that punch is a far greater challenge. Let me just start off by saying Prefab Sprout is definitely not for everyone. Nothing good ever is, and originality / genre crossing only detracts from the ratio of folks that I think will like them versus those who will not maybe vaguely reminiscent to the same way people might feel about the Housemartins. If forced, I’d say PS is sophisticated adult contemporary with flashes of western, lounge, and most importantly, show tunes. Lyrically, they’re just weird. Example from Movin’ the River: “But I’m turkey hungry. I’m chicken free! And I can’t break dance on your knee!” Vocally, they’re impassioned and beautiful.
The best showcase of the album’s soulfulness stems from the two love songs I was talking about earlier. The first is Bonny, a poetic lament about losing someone. The lament part is double-underlined here, and one of the most poignant feelings that I think McAloon best communicates is the fact that he feels losing someone cost him something. I sometimes feel like no one wants to admit that we sometimes give up what we want, but we all do. Everything about this song goes down like a sophisticated drink–probably a sidecar. From its memorable muted lead-in to the cascading chorus, Bonny always brings me to my knees.
When Love Breaks Down is the second. It’s a lot more delicate than Bonny, but even more powerful due to its derivation from Paddy’s own life. Everything about it is supposed to scream melodramatic, “The lies we tell / They only serve to fool ourselves / When love breaks down / The things you do / To stop the truth from hurtin’ you” but the sincerity saves it from deteriorating into dripiness.
“It is a very personal song. It’s not that far removed from personal experience. I’ve worked so hard, it’s been to the detriment of other things. Relationships have suffered, I don’t mind saying that. But I know if I don’t work hard I won’t get that golden moment. I know I can go even further but to do that I have to narrow down my interests.” – Paddy McAloon, Melody Maker, June 1, 1985
There are a host of other surprises that make Steve McQueen a timeless album. Toe-tappin’ soul in Goodbye Lucille #1, the bizarre show tuney Movin’ the River (above all, this is just a damn fine vocal showcase), the country and westernish Faron Young (ANTIQUES!), the mambo (yes, MAMBO) in Horsin’ Around, seamlessly transitioning to more bitter heartbreak and kiss off in Desire As. It is all topped off with When the Angels, another one reminiscent of an 80’s musical score.
Oddly enough though, Steve McQueen doesn’t really feel like an “80’s” album at all. Maybe because it falls under such a wide swash of pop, or maybe because it’s just a damn fine album.
