Nothing bugs me more than 'digitally remastered' reissues of discs that I already own, with their improved liner notes and superior sound. Why do we need to replace our old copies? Because the label screwed up the first time! They half-assed the original release and they expect us to buy it again now that they've fixed it up.
Until now, I was happy with my XTC CDs. The liner notes were skimpy, but the discs sounded fine, and most of them came with bonus tracks. Now Virgin is reissuing the whole batch again, from 1978's White Music to 1992's Nonsuch, the band's last album with the label. For a test, I picked up the new edition of English Settlement and compared it to my twelve year-old CD-- which, by the way, has no scratches or flaws, and the ink, contrary to legend, hasn't eaten through the plastic and corroded the disc. There is no reason to replace it.
Except that the new one actually sounds better. Comparing it on a good stereo, it's obvious that the sound is bigger and crisper, and the instruments are more clearly differentiated. Check out "Yacht Dance": it's like somebody wiped off a layer of grime. And now that I've listened to this, even my old copy of Drums and Wires sounds muddy. Bastards.
These reissues are now trickling into the States, and Go 2, Black Sea, and English Settlement-- their second, fourth and fifth records, respectively-- came at the end of last month. Each disc gets 24-bit remastered sound and a better booklet. They include the same bonus tracks as the original CD releases: Black Sea has three extra cuts, Go 2 includes the single "Are You Receiving Me?," and English Settlement, a double-album, is packed by itself onto a single disc. The only difference is that this time, the bonus tracks are at the end instead of the middle. That preserves the flow, but it also assumes you're ready to listen to any more music after, say, Black Sea's "Travels in Nihilon" or Drums and Wires' "Complicated Game." Those closers were so right for those albums that I'd rather have an intermission than an encore.
Let's say that you've led an XTC-free life and you've never heard these albums. These three take us from the band's first struggling line-up to (arguably) their best album, English Settlement, which is also (inarguably) one of the best albums of the 1980s. But when they recorded Go 2, the band had just begun to garner attention. Their Buddy Holly-on-amphetamines sound merged with punk to make music that was noisy and jittery, danceable enough for the crowds at the clubs, and suspiciously poppy thanks to the catchy hooks and their trademark verse-chorus-verse-chorus-explode pattern.
Go 2 captures the moment, but it was rushed out too quickly. In fact, it could be the worst album they've ever made. The songs are even weaker than the ones on their debut, White Music. You have to like the infectious tune and whoomping rhythm section on guitarist Andy Partridge's "Meccanik Dancing (Oh We Go!)," or bassist Colin Moulding's rocker "Crowded Room." But even the good songs get weak performances, as the band has trouble staying 'on message': "Battery Brides," Partridge's nod to Brian Eno, sounds lackluster, while other songs sound too spastic. Partridge is still working out the kinks here as a singer, and his guitar would become more focused after Dave Gregory joined as the second axe.
But the album's biggest weakness, and the line-up's worst misfit, is Barry Andrews, who plays the hockey rink-style organ. The instrument is great in small doses (the buzzing on "Life Is Good in the Greenhouse," for example), but after hearing it needle and pierce every song on this album, I'm ready to smash it, shred the blueprints and burn down the factory. And Andrews himself is no prize. He writes one track and co-writes another, and they're the worst songs the band ever played: one is a fake reggae called "Super-Tuff," and the other goes, "I don't know what she done wrong but I want to hurt her/ Take it out on her/ With my weapon." A lot of us can take misogyny in valid artistic contexts, but this guy's as dim as a sack of rocks.
Andrews left the band after Go 2, and Dave Gregory joined to play guitar and keyboards. With Terry Chambers remaining on drums, this is the line-up that finally clicks. My friends and I argue about which is the better classic: 1979's Drums and Wires or 1980's Black Sea. On the former they nailed the visceral sound described by the title-- the jagged, jittery guitars and earth-thudding drums. Songs like "Helicopter" and "Scissorman" owed a lot not just to the hooks and tunes, but to the impact of Gregory and Partridge shredding fingers on strings, and Chambers and Moulding's loose-necked rhythm section. On Black Sea, however, they act more like a pop group. The guitars are less nervous, and the songs-- sharper and catchier than ever before-- get more room to breathe: "Generals and Majors" sounds jumpy but the guitars play melodies instead of textures. "Respectable Street" and "Burning with Optimism's Flames" slow down enough to let the riffs sink in, and "Towers of London" paints tall images with its stone-laying guitar lines. Partridge also finally shows his talent as an expressive pop singer, stretching and mauling the words of "No Language in Our Lungs."
Black Sea has tunes like "Sgt. Rock" that-- as much as Partridge has disowned the lyrics-- will never vacate your brain. (Sing it with me: "If I could only be tough like him...") But "Rocket in a Bottle" is one of their most jet-fueled songs, and "Travels in Nihilon" is one of their strangest, with the arena-sized drums, Komodo dragon-like bass, and guitars that sound like flaming stacks of wood. Partridge deserves credit here for experimenting with avant-pop yet never ignoring or undermining the song. (He left the really indulgent stuff for his solo albums.)
Two years later, XTC released English Settlement. I can complain about Virgin's rerelease policy as much as I want, but the nice thing about buying this is that I revisited an album that's been in my life for years. I first listened to this with my high school sweetheart, and I'm playing it now a week before I get married. I'm far from the first person to say that it ages well-- in fact, it sounds just as fresh now as it ever did, and there are some songs like "All of a Sudden (It's Too Late)" that I didn't even like until I was in my mid-twenties.
English Settlement marks the change from the jumpy live band that preceded it to the assured studio band that came after. It's all drums and wires-- with some bird-like sax honks that suit the vaguely African expanse of the sound-- but they're slowed and simplified into the two components that, to crib an image from David Toop, most resemble the human body: the nervous music of the head, and the deep, heavy music of the heart. The skittering guitars on "English Roundabout" would have fit in their earlier work, but this time they're acoustic and softer. And the songs run longer: the killer beat at the end of "Melt the Guns" takes all the time it needs to play itself out, and "All of a Sudden" lets Partridge wring every nuance from what could be the best lyrics he's ever written, making broad statements about life and love through simple, sharp imagery. It's the only song on the album that's not about something specific: it could be a breakup song, but it turns into a lament from a young man who's just realizing that he has years of sad aggravation ahead of him.
From the first song, the album sounds more serious and self-assured than anything they'd yet recorded. Moulding's chase theme, "Runaways," opens the album with an urgency that's almost disturbing until it fades to the street anthem of "Ball and Chain." I came this close to writing that Partridge's "Senses Working Overtime" was "a cornerstone of modern civilization." And how about "Snowman," with the bitter lyrics that are totally overturned by the tooth-rottingly sweet melody? "Jason and the Argonauts" feels simultaneously like sailing the high seas and getting thrown in a trash can and rolled down a hill. And as for the drumming and percussion, it's clear that though XTC is underrated, Terry Chambers was even more ignored: on every song here his playing is impeccable.
But what gets me most about hearing this album is the way it captures their 'earnest young men' phase. It's that transitory time in their mid-to-late twenties when they could make political statements with easy conviction ("melt the guns," "knuckle down, love his race," "science once again robs us of our jobs") or toss off songs as beautiful as "Yacht Dance" without overworking or overthinking them. This is earnestness that doesn't make excuses for itself, doesn't fret over bold statements, and doesn't even seem aware of how clearly and confidently it's proceeding. English Settlement catches that moment, as they change from a young band to a mature one: this is the pivot on which their entire career hangs, and a vantage point from which both ends of it make sense. It's timeless.
