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The Stiff Records Box Set – Disc 4

The Stiff Records Box Set — Disc 4
Stiff Records, 1992
4CD box set + booklet

THE PROLOGUE

Well, here we are at last, the final disc in this set, chronicling the last days of Stiff as an active record label roundabouts the mid-80s. Many of the acts Stiff first signed and/or made famous moved on to bigger record labels and more money, and Robinson and Riveria were forced to cast an ever wider net.

It’s a label that kicked off with Nick Lowe because he had already recorded to “publisher demos” at other companies’ expense, so the cost of releasing that very first Stiff single was a staggering £45. Thankfully, it did well – and the rest of the history is encapsulated here.

As mentioned previously, the tracks on these discs are in rough, rather than exact, chronological order, but on the other end of this Stiff journey we alight on the pub rock band Dr Feelgood, still going to this day as an entertainment entity but with a completely different lineup. You might wonder what a mid-70s traditionalist UK rock band is doing here, but they are part of Stiff history for two reasons.

First, singer Lee Brilleaux was the man who lent Jake Riveria and Dave Robinson the 400 quid they needed to register Stiff as the UK’s first independent record label. Second, they were a pretty damn good pub-rock band by the time they finally recorded with the label.

THE MUSIC

Things kick off with “Sign Of The Times” — a nice, poppy single from The Belle Stars, an all-female group that should have gone further than they did. I’m happy that their biggest single was one of their own originals, rather than the cover versions they had been doing for a while prior to that. Prince obviously liked the title also!

The follow-up single from the band is also included here, “Sweet Memory” as the second track on this disk, and it failed to crack the top 20 despite some pretty groove-y instrumentation. It’s certainly not as good as “Sign of the Times,” but it’s not awful either. I think the “aggressive/tough” style vocal on “Sweet Memory” is what hurt it.

Stiff was not doing as well by the time 1983-84 rolled around, and this disc is low on hits (but not without them). The label signed a bunch of new bands as their older acts left for bigger labels, and Electric Guitars is one of those. To be fair, the New Wave edge had faded by this point, but the “angular” attempts at cool had devolved into a similar style for a lot of bands.

It makes sense that the Guitars’ “Language Problems” would follow “Sweet Memory,” since it is rather similar: musically very competent, vocals rather odd.

Thankfully, the fourth song on the CD is a bona fide hit that still gets me dancing to this day: Tracey Ullman’s version of Jackie DeShannon’s “Breakaway,” a sped-up 60s girl-group song that infused extra energy and Ullman’s own sparkly vocals into an irresistible treat. Two minutes and 37 seconds of absolutely perfect pop.

This is followed by a song that might have made it but missed it by this much, Passion Puppets’ “Like Dust.” Musically, it has the moves, the vocals aren’t bad, there’s no reason this harder-rock mainstream number couldn’t have done reasonably well, and yet it didn’t. I can only imagine that the collapse of Stiff in 1984 contributed to the band’s failure to put out more than a single album.

Likewise, “Dangerous Dreams” by Jakko sounds like perfect FM radio fodder, but went nowhere just the same.

But now, time for something different: King Kurt launches “Destination Zululand” at us with a Tempole Tudor style and a bad Elvis impression. This sounds more like the happier days of the label, and it’s competently performed but silly. Not great, but certainly fun.

If you had trouble deciphering exactly what King Kurt is saying at all times on his song, wait till you get a load of poster-boy-for-dental-work Shane McGowan and the Pogues, who debut in this set at last with “The Sick Bed of Cuchulain,” a rollicking 100-proof Irish punk-folk hit complete with tinwhistle. McGowan alternately snarls and rocks it in this tale, which draws from Irish folklore based on an actual 11-century (lost) Yellow Book of Slane.

The next track is absolutely not what you might expect following The Pogues: “Pick Me Up” by the Inspirational Choir of the Pentecostal First Born Church of the Living God. True to their name, its an African-American church choir singing Christian Rock (or more accurately, inoffensive jazz-pop). It … um … certainly stands out among the songs on this disc.

A band remarkably like peak post-punk band The Jam, but they’re called Makin’ Time, borrow the bass riff from “Town Called Malice” for their own very-nearly-as-good version, “Here Is My Number.” It’s a rousing soul-infused rocker, but … you can’t get that other song out of your head when listening to it.

Three of the four members remained active in the music business into the 21st century, with Makin’ Time bassist Martin Blunt eventually joining The Charlatans.

Time to check back in with The Pogues, doing that Pogues-thing they do so well, with a catchy, bouncy Irish … lament … called “Dark Streets of London.” If you’re reading this, you must know The Pogues, even if you can’t stand McGowan’s vocal style, so you know that musically they are both firmly reflective of Ireland’s musical heritage, while infusing the music with the energy and spittle of punk.

We mentioned earlier The Belle Stars as a band that should have been bigger: well here’s another one — The Untouchables. They briefly grabbed the brass ring of exposure and US fame with a later single “Free Yourself,” but “Wild Child” is exactly the same kind of soul-powered rock stomper. I’m reminded to go back and investigate these guys more as well.

Kristy MacColl returns to give us another fantastic song of hers, “A New England.” Sparkling guitars frame a confessional song about a broken relationship and touching on teen pregnancy, bracketed by absolutely inspired lyrics.

Here’s a sample: “I saw two shooting stars last night/I wished on them, but they were only satellites/it’s wrong to wish on space hardware/I wish, I wish, I wish you cared,” and even more so “Once upon a time at home/I sat beside the telephone/Waiting for someone to pull me through/When at last it didn’t ring I knew it wasn’t you.” Genius!

One of Jamie Rae’s two singles ever released, “Pretty One” is included here, and it’s a pleasant enough pop song, but the young Scottish singer only released one other single. Though he found some considerable fame from those two records, he suddenly withdrew from pop music following the unexpected death of his mother from leukemia. Somewhere in a vault, there’s half an album more stuff from him, but as yet it’s not escaped that I know of.

Starting off with a driving groove, 60s mod styling, and a killer bass riff and wonderful call-and-response between lead singer/guitarist Clyde Grimes and the rest of the band, a ska-like touch of horns and synth organ, “Free Yourself” by The Untouchables managed to get some airplay and exposure on MTV and US radio with this irresistable track. As someone used to say back in the day, “if this don’t get in your head, check yourself — you may be dead!”

Speaking of energy, The Pogues waltz back in with another fast-paced Irish punk ballad, “Sally MacLennane.” A punk-pop take on Irish traditional music doesn’t get any better than this. The drunken-voiced callback in the chorus is the perfect finishing touch. Two minutes and 43 seconds of pure boozy bliss.

Then, suddenly, without proper warning: deep-voiced art-rock New Wave! It’s Furniture’s best single (in my opinion), “(You Must Be Out of Your) Brilliant Mind,” with extra-weird bass tomfoolery in the chorus and occasionally elsewehre, synth strings, a New York angry sax break, full of witty lyrics and oddly danceable. It’s … wait for it … brilliant.

From the “Not Really Our Thing So Much, But It Kinda Works, Mate” department, we finally get to Dr. Feelgood, a band that was a staple of the pub-rock circuit which originally formed in 1971, making them antiquated geezers by this point. The band was anchored by singer Lee Brilleaux, but had a rotating cast of other players.

For their single for Stiff, the label gave them some synths to play with, and the result is the smoky ballad “Don’t Wait Up,” which sits a little oddly with most of the other Stiff artists but is in fact a good song well-performed with just a splash of blues.

This is followed by outright bebop jazz from the Tommy Chase Quartet with a song called “Killer Joe (Right Cross)” — no chaser, just straight shots at a quick clip. As per tradition, the piano and sax get their moment of spotlight. What the huh? 50s jazz on Stiff? What the blazes is going on?

Oh wait, whew — Furniture return to get back in the zeitgeist with a return to their cool romantic artiness, courtesy another single a-side “Shake Like Judy Says.” Oddly, it’s not really a bad placement between Tommy Chase and Dr Feelgood — the song features a jazz-tinged trumpet line (and a little xylophone), which are both given some brief prominence amongst the synth/bass/drum/guitar main sounds.

Dr. Feelgood closes out the show with an unexpected redneck anthem, “Hunting Shooting Fishing,” that at least shows off how the band normally operated, and as you might have guessed, they’re not trying for high art. This is pub rock aimed squarely at working-class club audiences, complete with driving lead guitar and drums, plenty of echo on Brilleaux, and what almost manages to be a song for the monster truck crowd. ZZ Top could only wish they rocked this raucously.

THE BOOKLET

Just before we head for the exit on this review, we have to mention – at long last – the one and only thing included in this box set that is not a CD in a jewel case (which also includes an insert card with the table of contents for each disc, also reprinted on the back card) is a 20-page booklet that tries to set the stage for the creation of Stiff and the state of UK rock music at the time, impart a little data about its founders (including police mug shots!), and outline some of the label’s whacky slogans, which really gave it character. These ranged from the enigmatic “Three Nos Don’t Make a Yes” to the punkier “If It Ain’t Stiff It Ain’t Worth a Fuck” and the wry “We Came, We Saw, We Left” (or as the ancient Romans might have said, “Venimus, Vidimus, Reliquimus). Me, I always liked their on-label saying on many of their singles, “Electrically Recorded.”

We then get in the story about the early singles, starting with Nick and his costs-already-covered first single “So It Goes,” which came out on August 14th, 1976, and hit number one in the US two weeks after it was released. “Heart of the City,” the b-side, made a greater impact on the UK music papers, and between the two songs Jake and Dave were able to pay off the initial loan that started the ball rolling.

After a kerfuffle with EMI over the use of a Beatles’ “baby butcher” unused cover for a Roogalator single, Stiff got in the habit of releasing a single and then quickly “deleting” it from the catalog, which turned out to have the effect of encouraging stores to order more copies upfront. On top of that, they’d let artists or producers scratch messages in the runout groove (no, that wasn’t really a thing until Stiff came along). Genius!

The booklet continues with various tales like that, celebrating itself and writing about both its early wins and some of its early losses – for example, the classic “Alison” by Elvis Costello completely failed to chart on its debut. Luckily, the album did a bit of business (wink). It also chronicles the departure of Jake Rivera, taking Lowe, Costello, and Yachts with him to form another indie label, Radar.

It talks about the changing relationship with the ever-fickle and ever-bitchy UK music press, which once championed Stiff but quickly decided the new crop of acts were already old hat, and chronicles the Live Stiffs tours. As punk began to fade and the Two-Tone (another indie label) legend rose, Stiff signed Madness in a canny move.

By this point we’re in the early 80s, and Madness, Tenpole Tudor and Jona Lewie’s surprise hit “Stop the Cavalry” were helping keep Stiff in the charts, desperation was rolling in like fog and Stiff was throwing all kinds of … stuff … at the wall to see what stuck. Then, like a fortuitous lifeline, in 1983 Dave Robinson took an offer of being the Music Director of Island Records, and took the entire label roster with him.

This lasted until 1985 when Robinson and Island parted ways, and Stiff was back to struggling status. By 1986, Robinson could take the swinging between feast and famine anymore, and after a last short respite courtesy Cashmere (also home to the emerging ZTT label at the time), Robinson and Stiff were done.

The booklet carries on for a bit longer eulogising some of the things that made Stiff unique (such as signing Wazmo Nariz, the guy with two ties). It ends with a listing of Stiff Staff, and thank yous to those who helped put this compilation together.

THE WRAP UP

By the mid-80s, Stiff was flailing around wildly and desperate for hits. By this point, it was sailing on reputation and fumes, and the money was running out fast. That said, Discs 3 and 4 show that Stiff still had an eye for talent, and was still taking chances on an ever-increasing variety of artists even as the ship was starting to sink.

We owe this label and those two founding maniacs a great deal of gratitude for finding and publicising such a wide and clever array of new musical talent, and for helping make the very late 70s and early 80s a fookin’ great time to be a young person who loves great music. As the scores for these four CD s show, the hits outweighed the misses, and the legacy of the label is something Dave, Jake, and the artists can be proud of.

As a grave marker of sorts, this CD set is the finest tribute/chronology/potted history you’ll likely ever get of a UK indie record label. It is still a treasure box to me, 32 years (yikes!) since I first bought it. I’ve managed to buy it at least three times: my first copy was stolen in the mid-90s; another was so well-loved it fell apart; and this third one, thus far, has been treated with care. The little bit of velcro that keeps the box closed, on the other hand, has – on all my copies, and like much of this music – never failed me.

Great songs: 10
Good songs: 4
Meh songs: 7

Next time: Roxy Music!

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Steeleye Span – All Things Are Quite Silent [Disc 3]

[Cherry Tree, 2019]

Ten Man Mop, or Mr Reservoir Butler Rides Again (1971)

THE OVERVIEW

Following the new lineup’s first album together (recorded in late 1970) and its surprising chart success the following year, the final album of this box set and the third official Steeleye Span album was made in the fall of 1971. As with its predecessor, it continued to draw on the traditional folk music of England (saves a lot of time when you don’t have to write the material, I guess!).

The stability of the lineup was short-lived, however: founding member Ashley Hutchins would leave the band shortly after this was recorded, feeling that the group was relying too much on Irish folk music when his interest was in English folksong. He was also apparently reluctant to travel to the US, where the band had been invited to tour.

Once again, the cover art is pretty terrible, but once again the music is harmonious and well-performed. The band veers a bit more back into “pure” acoustic folk overall, but the electric instruments continue to make their presence felt right from the get-go, along with spoons, a tabor, organ, timpani, mandolin, fiddle, various banjos, and some dulcimer and various guitars for good measure.

Also again, there’s some terminology in the title that requires a bit of explanation. A “mop” in English slang for a job call, where unemployed men would gather to see if they could gain a day’s work — you might see the modern equivalent of a “mop” outside temp agencies, or construction sites, to this day. Some things never change.

As for the origin of Mr. Reservoir Butler, he was a real person, though unknown to the band — apparently he was the original performer of one of the songs on the record (it’s not mentioned which one, even in the extensive liner notes of the original gatefold vinyl album).

The version of the album on this box set copies the 2006 Castle Music CD reissue, including a smattering of bonus tracks (which we’ll get to), but sadly this collection omits the bonus live show that was included on that reissue’s bonus disc: a September 1971 performance on DJ John Peel’s “Sunday Concert” radio programme. It included a selection of tracks from across their career thus far, including a few songs not yet captured on the proper albums. I really must hunt that one down at some point.

THE ALBUM

The very first sounds one hears are electric, on the Christmas traditional “Gower Wassail,” with Tim on lead and the rest of the band contributing a splendid chorus. Tim Hart gives anything he sings a traditional, old-timey feel, but his vocal “instrument” is best used a bit more sparingly, rather than taking sole lead — at least in my view. It’s not clear when this particular wassail was written, but the standard (sung) version comes from the tradition of wassails from the 12th century, which have come to mean a type of song often accompanied by drinking, rather than “wassail”’s original meaning akin to a farewell greeting.

The band did well with a Chrismassy song on the last album, so why not do one again? And while we’re at it, the pair of jigs on the last album went down well, let’s do that again also! This time it’s Paddy Clancy’s Jig and Willie Clancey’s Fancy, a natural pairing if ever there was one. Dueling acoustic guitars and fiddle with a bit of spoon work is always a delightful thing, but here’s that Irish bent that got Ashley all “bent” out of shape.

The third cut features the funny, clever “Four Nights Drunk,” sung by Martin Carthy. It’s a song about a man who comes home so drunk he sees things that may or may not be there, questions his wife about them (who denies his vision), and begins to suspect that he is actually seeing his wife’s lover as her explanations become increasingly implausible.

Following a straight singing of the lyrics, the band breaks out the song into an instrumental for the last minute or so, and again they are very good at it.

We finally get Maddy Prior back on lead vocal, with “When I Was on Horseback.” It’s a traditional Irish folk song-cum-lament about a soldier and his unfortunate end, even though he brags “wasn’t I pretty/wasn’t I gay” (not like that 😜). Already, a pattern that has brought some criticism of this album is emerging — start a song, sing the lyrics, spotlight the instruments for a minute or so after the lyrics are done, and out.

Side 2 of the original vinyl version kicked off with “Marrowbones,” is a delightful traditional English/Irish song about a woman who loves her old husband, but “loves another man twice as well.” She decides to find a way to blind him so he can’t see she’s having an affair.

A local doctor tells her to feed him eggs and 16 marrowbones, which she does, but the old man knows of her plan and pretends to be blind. When walking near a river, the unfaithful wife decides to push her “blind” husband in, but he hears her running towards him and steps aside, and it is she who falls into the river.

As she cries for help, the husband reminds her that he “cannot see.” She eventually drowns, and the moral of the story is “if you want to murder your husband, make sure you poison him properly.” That’s the Irish for you …

This is followed by “Captain Coulson,” a tale of the war-hero title character and his passengers on a six-week sail across the Atlantic to “Amerikay.” One night, he spies a pirate ship in pursuit, and wants the sailors and men on board that it will soon catch up to them.

This story-song, sung by Maddy, is a nice change of pace from the tales of treacherous/cheating spouses, describes the battle as the pirates board the vessel and demand “your gold and precious loading.” A pitched battle ensues, with the captain and his passengers eventually successful in defeating the pirates, capturing their ship and bringing it with them as bounty with them to the New World.

The odd choice of having nearly every song end with an instrumental break, rather than putting it in the middle, becomes almost comically predictable and borderline annoying.

As with side one, a given song early on the given side of the vinyl is then followed by an instrumental track — either a group of jigs or a group of reels, and this case its the latter: a trio of them, “Dowd’s Favourite/£10 Float/The Morning Dew.” Only carefully listening to the chord changes would reveal to a listener when one part ends and other begins, as the instruments are seamlessly strung together.

This strange habit seems to be intended to showcase Peter Knight’s fiddle playing, and he’s excellent at it — but the repetition factor of the album is starting to really kick in.

Maddy returns to sing “Wee Weaver,” for once a song that has a happy ending rather than, you know, death. It’s a tale of of a weaver who loves a beautiful girl named Mary, much admired around the village. Willie proposes marriage, Mary accepts, and they lived happily ever after.

The Norfolk folk music index calls this song “a rarity,” allegedly written by home weavers … in Ireland. This puts Irish songs firmly in the lead compared to the English entries.

Tim sings the lead on the next track, “Skewball,” which also is an unconventional track for the band to do. This is a song about a horse race, and a fast horse (which can “talk”) named Skewball against another horse named Griselda. It’s an exciting tale, told well.

These two unconventional (for this band) songs would have done better being spaced further apart, but they nonetheless make a welcome change from the fairly repetitious choices presented to this point. That said, it closes the original album on a strong note.

We move on to the first of the “bonus tracks” presented here, “General Taylor (Studio Outtake).” This one also has Tim on lead, but duetting with the other band sings, which really makes Tim’s lead even more effective. The song, also known as “Carry Him to His Burying Ground,” is a fairly recent number for this group, hailing from the mid-19th century.

It’s done here in a “pump shanty” style, though technically it should be considered a “halyard” or perhaps a “capstan” style shanty. The subject concerns the defeat of Mexican general Santa Aña by the American general (and future president) Zachary Taylor in 1847.

The song was likely written by one of the surviving British soldiers who jumped ship to aid Aña in the West Indies. Traditionally, the victor of the battle is reversed to be Aña (as it is in this performance), likely due to British sailors serving with Mexicans at the time and not wanting to cause offense, but indeed it was Taylor who “won the day.”

This first bonus track, along with the start off track “Gower Wassail,” are the high points of the album as presented here. While the original album had fine playing and some strong group vocals, the song choices and arrangements were more repetitious than the previous album, and nothing other than “Gower” really stood out.

The rest of the “bonus” tracks here are various versions of “Rave On” — the original single version with a deliberate “Scratch” sound, which is my favourite of the versions because it must have really messed with the original listeners’ minds — and a “proper” two-verse and three-verse version.

The song is really out of step with the traditionals that accompany the album, as it’s a Buddy Holly song — and its presence “breaks the spell” of the band as wandering minstrels. It was originally recorded as a joke for Ashley’s benefit, and he liked it, but then it ended up as a “novelty” single for the band (and flopped).

To be fair, if you take it for what it is — a modern song done a capella, forgetting about the band’s regular motif — it’s very nice, including their strong harmonies. It’s just a bad choice to include on their Olde Tyme folk albums (and of course it originally wasn’t).

The “Peel Session” version, just for variety’s sake.

THE BOTTOM LINE

This third effort touches on a lot of what makes Steeleye Span interesting, but it’s less imaginative and varied than the previous two albums, with the song choices being more repetitive — though when they do break the pattern, they generally shine.

For me, Ten Man Mop leans too heavily on the lead singers, with the band’s strong group vocals too sparingly used. The arrangements seem less imaginative as well, with a few exceptions.

Knowing that Hutchins left the band after this was recorded, it would be interesting to revisit the fourth album to compare how that affected the group (spoiler: a lot), but that’s outside the scope of this box set review, so we’ll have to leave it there. (Second spoiler: the lineup changes very significantly yet again with the fourth album.)

Ten Man Mop is by no means a bad album, but the feeling that it’s a weaker offering than the two before it is hard to shake. The inclusion of very sparse “bonus tracks” is a mild disappointment, but as an opportunity to study more deeply the albums where I first became acquainted with the band, All Things are Quite Silent is an intriguing box set that I’m glad to have, as it does offer some absolutely stellar gems from the band’s early years.

Next time: Nits! (the Dutch band, not the other kind)

Posted on by chasinvictoria

Lene Lovich – Toy Box: The Stiff Years 1978-1983 (Discs 1 & 2, part 1)

Stateless, US & UK versions compared

THE OVERVIEW

Toy Box: The Stiff Years is a four-CD box set covering everything (or nearly so) Lene and her band recorded for Stiff Records, which amounts to three albums, two “mini-LPs,” and some odds and sods, all of which have been gathered up together. For me, who has collected Lene faithfully for decades (and once did a lovely interview with her and Les in Atlanta), there’s not a lot here I hadn’t already heard or own, except for one pretty significant thing (which we’ll get to shortly).

From her 70s and 80s peak years, most everything is here apart from the brilliant 1989 album March, but of course it wouldn’t be — it didn’t come out on Stiff. Each of the albums are supplanted with bonus tracks, including a lot of “early versions” (home studio demos), instrumental versions, variations, remixes, live versions, and promo or b-side type stuff.

As with these sorts of “everything boxes,” as I like to call them, it’s really great having this all in one place (super handy when storage is tight, eh, fellow collectors?), and while I’m sure there’s a few oddities missing — for example I have the full Lene “Interview Disc” on vinyl where the DJ would ask questions and “Lene” (on the included record) would respond — but this is as complete a catalog of the Stiff music from her as we’re likely to get. Plus, it’s Cherry Red — there’s a fabulous booklet that includes Lene’s own memories and comments, plus some supplemental information from Scott Davies (of Rubellan Remasters, who handled the audio remastering for this project) and Michael Robson (who sheparded the project and designed the booklet and box).

One last thing before we dive in: It wasn’t originally my intention to do another artist who rose to full prominance in 1979 this soon, I had actually picked out another quite different artist boxset to do; but I was joking to some friends one day last month that it would be ironic if I covered three of Lene’s four 70s/80s albums in … wait for it … March, and so here we are.

STATELESS — BACKGROUND

A two-CD version of Lene’s debut album, you ask? How can this be, even with bonus tracks? The original album was barely longer than 30 minutes! This is the “pretty significant thing” I alluded to earlier — both the US and UK versions of Stateless are present here, and as I’m embarrassed to admit (having owned a vinyl UK copy of the album for decades but never actually listened to it because I also had the US version) — I was unaware of just how different the two versions were/are until now. So, for me at least, there’s a brand-new record in here.

Consequently, this calls for a side-by-side comparison of each album track. We’ll also review the non-album bonus tracks — all 21 of them! — and pick out the gems.

The short story on the two versions is that after the record originally came out in the UK (with the pre-release hit single of “I Think We’re Alone Now”) in October of ’78, the US label felt it needed some further cooking, and had Roger Bechirian (well known among New Wave et al album collectors) remix and re-record some parts for the US release, which made “Lucky Number” a minor hit in the States as well.

The US version used a different — and frankly better — cover shot as well, though I like the way Lene (in the booklet) refers to the UK cover as “like ‘The Scream’ by Edvard Munch.” When the album was re-issued in the UK in ’79, some (but not all) of the Bechirian versions were included, so getting to hear the original mix is a treat.

The Bechirian version of most of the songs was then used for the subsequent rest of world versions, which along with the US version came out in April of ’79. The full story on this is a bit more complicated (variations on how many Bechirian remixes were used on different countries’ album version, plus a couple of mis-stamped pressings), but to consolidate matters Cherry Red has Disc 1 as the original LP mix (only a little Bechirian) and Disc 2 as the “US/UK remix” version (tracks 1-8 and 11 were “Bechirian’d”). For the bonus tracks it is not spelled out, but our Roger is also credited with production as well as backing vocals (for “Trixi,” meaning that song was likely created during the re-record sessions).

The album did pretty well: while it didn’t chart in the US, it went Silver in the UK (250,000 sold) and did well all over Europe, Australia, and New Zealand. The first single, a remake of Tommy James and the Shondells’ “I Think We’re Alone Now,” reached #3 in the UK. It had the “early version” of “Lucky Number” as the b-side.

The subsequent single, the revamped “Lucky Number,” went to #2 in Australia and #3 in New Zealand, and also charted elsewhere. In the US, the song was a sleeper success, never hitting the Top 40 but it was an early video and club hit.

Before we get to the UK vs US compare, I do want to mention my general feelings for this album: obviously I liked it at the time, but this revisit has reminded me of how much I adore this record. It’s a rare album where 100 percent of the songs are strong, polished, and timelessly enjoyable, and of course Les and Lene’s talents mesh so beautifully here that the whole thing — UK or US version — is just a joy. It’s one of the very best albums Stiff ever put out, and was by no means a one-shot wonder.

STATELESS — SONGS SIDE-BY-SIDE

These will be comparisons of the “UK original” and “US/remixed” versions of each song, acknowledging that having an experienced engineer remix/redo some stuff is bound to sound better a lot of the time. We’ll use the original UK running order for the album.

Lucky Number
Winner: US/remixed
Bechirian knows what he’s doing when it comes to mixing: this has a brighter tone and a more swinging tempo; beefier drum fills; more manly background vocals; a slightly more “quirky” lead vocal, and the brilliant addition of the monk-like “number” chant for the outro.

A slightly different, live (?) version from Top O’ the Pops

Sleeping Beauty
Winner: US/remixed
The US version has a new vocal (this will be a theme in many of the US/remix wins), but the UK original is clearer and more natural — Lene doesn’t fight the instruments to be heard as much. That said, the US version is better mixed throughout, and adds more bv’s and stronger bell sounds. It also has a new guitar solo, and the song cuts to the ending much quicker, losing 30 seconds of repetitive vamping from the original version, which gives it the win.

Home
Winner: UK original
Some may disagree, but I think the UK original mix retains more of that surfer/psychedelic feel. This seems like the first song were Lene’s vocal wasn’t re-recorded in the US version, but then again, the US mix adds some new guitar twang and louder FX during the middle eight.

Lip synced version from Dutch TV

Too Tender (to Touch)
Winner: UK original
The US version features the bells much more prominently, which is an improvement on the UK version, but oddly tries to bury Lene’s vocal under a significantly louder piano (excellent work by Don Snow) and some organ bits. Again, it’s the same vocal on both versions, but Lene never really comes to the fore in the US version until the bridge, and even then a new and different piano solo gets thrown in for no clear reason.

Say When
Winner: US/remixed
Conversely, on this one it’s not even close: Bechirian’s significantly re-mixed and re-recorded version is just vastly superior. It’s a fun song either way, but Lene’s terrific new vocal contrasted with more male bv humming, and a far more prominent organ, some nicely-placed reverb and other touches just make this one the definitive version (plus an extra count-up!).

Lip synced for Dutch TV

Tonight
Winner: tie
Nick Lowe’s “Tonight” gets a really nice 1950s treatment in both versions, but each one drops the ball in one way or another. The UK version puts Lene front and center vocally throughout, as it should, but it criminally dwells on the sax (which is very good, don’t get me wrong) at the expense of not bringing in the crucial supporting background “echo” bv’s until the song is more than half over. While the US version corrects that mistake, Bechirian piles on all the instruments too much, frequently drowning out Lene’s climatic vocals in the choruses.

Writing on the Wall
Winner: US/remixed
Another 50’s influenced number, this time the tragic story-song that skirts doo-wop territory at times. The US version brings in sax, better mixing for the organ, and adds more male bv’s to give the song more atmosphere.

Telepathy
Winner: US/remixed
A very funny song, which backs off the 50s influence somewhat but still has an echo of it. Once again, the US version brings in the background vocals right away and keeps them around throughout, and Lene’s re-recorded vocal actually improves on the UK original. The better mixing and more vocal power wins the day.

Momentary Breakdown
Winner: UK original
We’ve now moved firmly (with “Telepathy” and now this one) into early 60’s (fake) girl group sound. This time it’s the UK version that gives the “girls” plenty of spotlight, and Lene’s incredible, four-octave finale is just … (chef’s kiss). The US version mostly buries the bv’s until the middle eight, but does offer better separation for the instruments, and the end of Lene’s octave stunt isn’t the end of the song this time, she just descends and starts over (briefly).

One in a 1.000.000
Winner: UK original
This song always reminds me of “Say When” in its franticness, strong vocal, and playful arrangement — you could image a chorus line of western burlesque dancers high-stepping this number at an old west saloon. The US version again puts Lene back a little in the mix (with bv’s more prominent, but to be fair they’re very good), but the two versions are by far the most similar between the two releases, with only a slight change to the sonic staging on this one.

I Think We’re Alone Now
Winner: tie
Bewilderingly, the US version on this song flips the typical script on the way it’s mixed, with the instruments nicely separated from Lene’s vocal, with the bv’s a little less prominent and her own background sounds getting some of that spotlight also. The difference between the US version and UK version is still a little subtle and for me, either one is the best version of this song I’ve ever heard.

Lip-synced performance on Spanish TV

Next time: Discs 1 & 2 bonus tracks!