 The English Beat Here's the perfect introduction to the English Beat, aka The Beat, preeminent ska-pop godfathers with an utterly unique sound. The sort of thing that makes you feel like you're hanging out at one of those cool parties from Valley Girl or Sixteen Candles. Where would you rather be, really? One of my biggest pet peeves with indie record stores is the almost complete ignorance of the Beat. Every indie rock store should stock this disc in sufficient quantities so that all the hipsters can start getting it right. You can always find London Calling and whatever the latest trendband is, but it's remarkable to me that music this good, music this essential should be so hard to get yer paws on. Not that they're obscure, by any means, but they just don't seem to be thought of as cool. Well, whatever, hipsters are always ten steps behind in their desperate desire to be ten steps ahead. Those overly tight t-shirts must be cutting off the blood supply to their brains … not to mention their unshakeable booties. Cross the Police with the Specials and throw in the better elements of Men at Work, a pinch – and only a pinch – of Madness, and there you have the Beat. These guys are decidedly early-80s, but in the very best way. Don't hold their era against 'em – if you're at the top of your class, it doesn't matter what year you graduate. (?) Dave Wakerling and the boys were smart, funny, sexy, and beyond all that, their music gets yer ass to move. This compilation assembles all the singles and favorite album tracks, perfect encapsualtions of nightlife romance circa '79-'82. Nervous new wave/reggae guitar lines, dub echo, tight pop hooks, laissez-faire saxophones, great lyrics – simply said, these guys were the fucking bomb. I love the Police and all, but do I ever actually want to listen to them? "Too Nice to Talk To," "Doors of Your Heart," songs that feel like being out at a club and falling a little too hard for a supercute someone you want to imagine you know better than you do. "I Confess," "Save it For Later," songs of the reality of relationships, the morning-after clarity. "Mirror in the Bathroom," "Twist and Crawl," quintessential 80s party sounds to bring out your inner Ferris Bueller. Then there's "Hands Off She's Mine," to which I like to sing along, "Hands Off, She's Nine." "Tears of a Clown," "Sole Salvation," "Can't Get Used to Losing You," Northern soul for skatepunk kids, the seeds of General Public and especially Fine Young Cannibals. "Stand Down Margaret," political science for kids with big headphones. It's just great music. Reminds me that you don't have to be Schubert to create beautiful sounds – you can be a scrappy crew of Birmingham Brits singing about drinking and dancing. And certainly, that'll get more asses shakin' than Schubert ever did, anyhow.
Review by Rina Ronora |