rECORDS

Rip It Up, Issue 125, 1 December 1987, Page 28

rECORDS

Robbie Robertson Robbie Robertson Geffen More than any other group, the Band deserved to be called the Band. They were group players and singers, listening to each other with an intercommunication that meant they spoke with one voice. Actually, almost all of their material was written by Robbie Robertson, who stood back and let the rest of the group sing his vignettes from American history. His songs were heartland adventures, hillbilly ballads that seemed like contemporary myths, but were as relevant as the next meal.

Robertson was a great songwriter in the traditional mould, and his great strength as a musician was knowing what to leave out. At a time when guitar heroes were proliferating, he could say more with a few delicate stutters. He also knew to keep quiet when he had nothing to say, which is why he abandoned the music treadmill a decade ago, content to make statements through soundtracks for Martin Scorsese.

Now, he's made an re-entry with a profound album of songs that retain their earthiness, but have a sound for the CD age. Robertson enlisted Daniel Lanois as co-producer, and not only is the influence of the man who crafted Peter Gabriel and U2’s recent albums crucial, but those two artists make characteristic contributions. It’s a difficult, brooding album of songs that are introspective rather than engaging sagas, but it’s worth the effort. The melodies are like shifting sands, difficult to grasp hold of, but inevitably seeping into your consciousness. Among the peaks are ‘Fallen Angel,’ Robertson’s extremely affecting homage to his Band colleague Richard Manual, the haunted pianist with the huge heart who hanged himself last year. Heartwrenching but subtle, Gabriel assists on vocals to give it a beautiful choral feel. At times you can almost hear the Band singing together, whooping to be heard over each other, particularly on Showdown at Big Sky,’ with biblical lyrics and stained glass harmonies. The Dylanesque ‘Broken Arrow,’ would be a perfect vehicle for Levon Helm to bring out the tears. ‘Sweet Fire of Love,' the superior of the two U2 collaborations, naturally has an epic quality. It’s as large as a

cathedral but as intimate as a tabernacle, with Robertson’s spontaneity offsetting Bono’s strict vocal. Side two has full-on rockers, the cautionary tale 'American Roulette,’ ‘Hell’s Half Acre’ and the chilling ‘Sonny Got Caught’ — images of bad card games and tattoo parlours, a lowlife neon-lit dream like the Tom Waits-ian recitation 'Somewhere Down the Crazy River.’

Robertson’s great creative burst was the first three Band albums, written after an upbringing on the road. Then, the quality deteriorated because really, he’d said his piece. This return is dark and uneasy, beautifully crafted and eloquent. If J D Salinger emerged from reclusion with as strong a work, it would be just as heartening. Chris Bourke Squeeze Babylon and On A&M With a fairly basic pun as its title, Squeeze have crept in to announce that they’re back with their first album since 1985’s Cosi Fan Tutti Frutti. It’s getting difficult to type above the choruses of “Who cares?” but 10 years ago Chris Difford and Glen Tilbrook were the Eastender’s answer to Elvis Costello with their sassy Cool For Cats album. The consensus is that they peaked with East Side Story, and since then Difford and Tilbrook have relied on their craft rather than attacks of spontaneous genius to keep the band going. Babylon and On, while not a bad album (few bad albums are made these days, as everything is so con-

trolled and researched to the extent where the words “mediocre” and “bad” should change places) lurches along in the same grooves — namely Tilbrook’s lived-in vocals and the tight competent grind of a band headed by Difford with Jools (The Tube) Holland once more on keyboards. The best songs come in the shape of ‘Footprints’ with its after-party downer creep, ‘Tough Love’ with an accordion adding to the wife abusealcoholic husband broil, and ‘8535937,’ which cashes in on the irresistable don’t-call-her-she’ll-call-you lonely hearts club. Elsewhere ‘The Prisoner’ chugs along valiantly but fails to change gear, and ‘Cigarette of a Single Man’ almost hits the nerve of the loneliness of the long distance bachelor. The rest is men-at-work, nine-to-five songs, untouched by ex-

citement or inspiration. The Squeeze is hardly resulting in sparks. George Kay

Stevie Wonder Characters Motown

Stevie Wonder’s been making good records for about 25 yeas now. So it figures that his latest album Characters is yet another solid achievement in a long career marked by them. If 1985’s In Square Circle was a well-crafted but somewhat uninspired work, Characters rights the balance. It may contain only a couple of additions to his considerable canon of masterpieces, but there are few fillers and a lot of plain excellence. The gems include the first single, ‘Skeletons,’ a funky drama about the perils of keeping things hid that demonstrates yet again what a sophisticated lyricist Wonder has become since those unsteady beginnings last decade. Characters also includes probably the best of the current crop of duets with Michael Jackson; a highspirited paean to Friday night with ‘ln Your Corner, ’ and in ‘One of a Kind, ’ a certifiable addition to his long list of classic love songs. Even the songs here that fall back on to familiar ideas are re-invented with sufficient freshness and arranging skill to rescue them from dullness. So I guess any sense of diappointment springs from that very familiarity: there’s nothing completely new here. But it disappoints only against the high standards he’s achieved in the past. So that if, like me, you’ve ever enjoyed one Stevie Wonder album, you’ll embrace Characters. Alastair Dougal