Fundamental Sessions
I've caught myself enthusing about Pet Shop Boys' new album, Fundamental, hoping it to be true, to turn out true, but it isn't. It's crafted with their usual finesse but the range isn't there. It's too sombre, as if it’s missing an optimism gene, and its politics are clunky and tend to the obvious. (Did I buy Billy Bragg? Did someone put Chumbawumba on?) Bush is bad. Terrorism bad. Boo. Immigrants good. If they had written Fundamental in 2000 I might have called it prescient; instead it’s more a sign of the general mass inching its head around to finally see the problem than a flare of thrilling lyrical subversion. You could argue the album needs to be serious to carry its message, but you would be wanking.
Predominantly negative emotion isn’t a weakness in art as long as it’s placed at the right vantage point, as in the stories of Norman Levine, which aren’t cheerful but still leave the reader consoled or elated. And although PSB does attempt this at the end of I Made My Excuses And Left, they otherwise put on their sad act, pack up and leave us with the dirty plates. The lack of catharsis may intend to disquiet the listener and move him to take up arms against the oppressor and if so that's heroic in our tightening world but it still leaves us with an imperfect work.
All is not lost though. Looking over the whole Fundamental collection including b-sides and bonuses, I still see a great album. I offer you therefore my revised play list, the Fundamental Sessions.
THE SESSIONS
Psychological — Dainty Bastard compares this one with One More Chance in part for its agility and I see his point, but I put it with For Your Own Good for its sultry menace, with a side of sex from Some Speculation and guile from The Sound Of The Atom Splitting. “What’s that spilled on the kitchen floor?” Lovely.
In Private — A rosy beauty from Fundamentalism, their least-mediocre disco record, and what Soddom and Gomorrah purports to be. Neil plays diva while Elton swaggers across the stage.
The Resurrectionist — The best of the sessions. Proud, ballsy, joyful, it charges in, grabs you by the neck and carries you off, and you want more.
Indefinite Leave To Remain — The melody is hopeful and anxious, the bridge is beautiful, the lyrics aren't too obvious and "indefinite leave to remain" is a line of found poetry.
Girls Don’t Cry — Lush and wistful. A sentimental side-trip.
I Made My Excuses And Left — That hollow, muted lament in the background, then Neil's clinical voice of shock, devastation and relief. It made me cry too.
Minimal — All day long, at my desk, in the elevator, on conference calls, I am singing M! I! N! I! M! A! L! I cannot stop. I love it. Melancholy done right. Then the song turns towards home and — hang on — I know that guitar. What is New Order doing in here? Another sign Chris is hot for Peter Hook.
I'm With Stupid — I hated this one at first, sounded tinny and gadgety, and therein lies its cunning for it made me listen and as I grouched that melody smoldered in and I was hooked. The media tittered about PSB coming down to make their statement about Blair but I doubt he clutched his heart over it. Still hate the chorus.
Luna Park — Took me awhile to like this one too, and I love songs that take some reaching on my part. It is exquisite. Placid, langorous, nostalgic, reminds me of Enya minus the fangs.
Twentieth Century — The finest of the sessions next to The Resurrectionist. Deft and light on its feet. The lyrics make their point without overstaying their welcome. At last an optimistic song.
Fugitive — A romp. Crackles like their early, gamier b-sides.
Flamboyant (Memphisto Extended Mix) — This one came out with Pop Art a couple of years ago but its style locates it with these sessions. And not the fey yet delightful version from Fundamentalism but the Memphisto mix, which lets the song spread out and move at will. It is a masterpiece, regal, sweeping, presiding over everything in sight.
THE REJECTS
Numb — Me too.
The Soddom and Gomorrah Show — What dreck is this? An absent-minded paint-by-numbers big-budget showpiece. I knew where it was going the whole time. Maybe it’ll become catchier, I tell myself. It doesn’t. Maybe I’m not in the right frame of mind. Maybe it sucks. The remixes on Fundamentalism are better but still what does that say?
Casanova in Hell — Fer Chrissakes. Fine like an expensive watch but I'm asleep before I get the joke.
God Willing — Warmed-over Electronic. If you want to hear it in the original, download Soviet. Another sign Chris is hot for Johnny Marr.
Integral — Pump up the picket lines! A rousing production, makes me want to dress in placards and march; although I heard it in a club the other night and it was impossible to dance to, and those are lyrics to wince at on tributes.
Predominantly negative emotion isn’t a weakness in art as long as it’s placed at the right vantage point, as in the stories of Norman Levine, which aren’t cheerful but still leave the reader consoled or elated. And although PSB does attempt this at the end of I Made My Excuses And Left, they otherwise put on their sad act, pack up and leave us with the dirty plates. The lack of catharsis may intend to disquiet the listener and move him to take up arms against the oppressor and if so that's heroic in our tightening world but it still leaves us with an imperfect work.
All is not lost though. Looking over the whole Fundamental collection including b-sides and bonuses, I still see a great album. I offer you therefore my revised play list, the Fundamental Sessions.
THE SESSIONS
Psychological — Dainty Bastard compares this one with One More Chance in part for its agility and I see his point, but I put it with For Your Own Good for its sultry menace, with a side of sex from Some Speculation and guile from The Sound Of The Atom Splitting. “What’s that spilled on the kitchen floor?” Lovely.
In Private — A rosy beauty from Fundamentalism, their least-mediocre disco record, and what Soddom and Gomorrah purports to be. Neil plays diva while Elton swaggers across the stage.
The Resurrectionist — The best of the sessions. Proud, ballsy, joyful, it charges in, grabs you by the neck and carries you off, and you want more.
Indefinite Leave To Remain — The melody is hopeful and anxious, the bridge is beautiful, the lyrics aren't too obvious and "indefinite leave to remain" is a line of found poetry.
Girls Don’t Cry — Lush and wistful. A sentimental side-trip.
I Made My Excuses And Left — That hollow, muted lament in the background, then Neil's clinical voice of shock, devastation and relief. It made me cry too.
Minimal — All day long, at my desk, in the elevator, on conference calls, I am singing M! I! N! I! M! A! L! I cannot stop. I love it. Melancholy done right. Then the song turns towards home and — hang on — I know that guitar. What is New Order doing in here? Another sign Chris is hot for Peter Hook.
I'm With Stupid — I hated this one at first, sounded tinny and gadgety, and therein lies its cunning for it made me listen and as I grouched that melody smoldered in and I was hooked. The media tittered about PSB coming down to make their statement about Blair but I doubt he clutched his heart over it. Still hate the chorus.
Luna Park — Took me awhile to like this one too, and I love songs that take some reaching on my part. It is exquisite. Placid, langorous, nostalgic, reminds me of Enya minus the fangs.
Twentieth Century — The finest of the sessions next to The Resurrectionist. Deft and light on its feet. The lyrics make their point without overstaying their welcome. At last an optimistic song.
Fugitive — A romp. Crackles like their early, gamier b-sides.
Flamboyant (Memphisto Extended Mix) — This one came out with Pop Art a couple of years ago but its style locates it with these sessions. And not the fey yet delightful version from Fundamentalism but the Memphisto mix, which lets the song spread out and move at will. It is a masterpiece, regal, sweeping, presiding over everything in sight.
THE REJECTS
Numb — Me too.
The Soddom and Gomorrah Show — What dreck is this? An absent-minded paint-by-numbers big-budget showpiece. I knew where it was going the whole time. Maybe it’ll become catchier, I tell myself. It doesn’t. Maybe I’m not in the right frame of mind. Maybe it sucks. The remixes on Fundamentalism are better but still what does that say?
Casanova in Hell — Fer Chrissakes. Fine like an expensive watch but I'm asleep before I get the joke.
God Willing — Warmed-over Electronic. If you want to hear it in the original, download Soviet. Another sign Chris is hot for Johnny Marr.
Integral — Pump up the picket lines! A rousing production, makes me want to dress in placards and march; although I heard it in a club the other night and it was impossible to dance to, and those are lyrics to wince at on tributes.
posted by The Bitchy Poet at 6:58 a.m.
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