SIMPLY RED

SIMPLY RED

GOOD CLASS II XEROX

Gregg Khruschev Turner

BACKGROUND

Somewhere, some time ago—in these very pages—I postulated the existence of xerox, a not-necessarily prejudicial term referring to a musician’s carbon-copy conversion of a previous and already wellworn prototype. And that the xerox range of lookalike or soundalike facsimiles spanned diverse turf imitating obscure and familiar rock ’n’ roll icons. Just as the integers are comprised of prime numbers (one and that prime being the only factors) and composite numbers (two or more primes as factors), xerox-rockers were described as as the disjoint union of “prime” and “composite” facsimiles.

We gave names to describe the subtypes: Class I xerox were the xerox primes—where only one discernible influence is worn on the sleeve. For example, the crooning geek-oid of Spandau Ballet is no less than a Class I Bryan Ferry xerox, the less-than-good Jon Bon Jovi is the not-needed Class I Steve Tyler resurrection, and the sounds of those wicked sisters (Wilson, of Heart) being a forgettable Class I Led Zep xerox (not forgetting Mr. Twisted Sister himself, Dee Snider, as the Bozo-gone-bad Class I Cooper copy!). Yet the school of cool Class I’s well-documented too: From Chocolate Watch Band singer Dave Aguilar’s Class I Mick Jagger, to the Nuns’ stunning chanteuse, Jennifer Miro (a more than mucho impressive Class I Nico)...or how ’bout John Prine’s always-boss Class I Bobby Dylan!! And so forth.

Xeroxes of the second kind—the ones we call Class II—are the more widespread of the species. We see, for example, Hammerin’ Hank Rollins, ex of Black Flag, as the impoverished ancestor of both James Osterburg and Jimmy Morrison, and this hybrid examplifies enough of both to warrant the Class II tag. Class ll-ers clone multiple prototypes, while sometimes incorporating their own inherent sound to the confused mixture. When this occurs, Class ll-ers ask forgiveness for any assimilated sounds (and looks) and re-submit for certification ouside both classes of xerox. They redefine their cross-pollinated blend of whatever as a new chemical compound and thus no longer a xerox of anything at all!

Often this becomes a bone of contention within the ranks of Class II citizens. They will swear a blue streak that their influences are null and void—that they, in fact, clone nothing. They see their Class II (or I) label as something unattractive or even appalling (not the case, for example, with Jon Richman and his original Modern Lovers; proud, the man was, to admit the Class II Velvets/Stooges amalgam. This, contrasting to current Bangle war-cries of FOUL for any Class II certification as ’60s soundalikes). Seemingly, the heaviest protests come from the camp of Velvet Underground re-models, these elements perhaps vying for the creative respect afforded their master and then suddenly freaked out by the obvious observations.

Limeys, it turns out, are notoriously uptight accepting their Class I/ll fixations with American music, particularly black American music. This stems from the schizophrenic nature of the British psyche. Still, the unrelenting drive for the more primitive and caveman-like sexual tidings compels countless Brits to the more bestial American exports. Commonly, this turns out to be James Brown and Little Richard. Or Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. It’s the dark meat sex stuff that Brits bite on. Keith Richards chose Chuck Berry; Mick Jagger, Tina Turner; Annie Lennox, Aretha Franklin... But once bitten, twice shy—and so it’s no surprise that most Angloids, although content to the bitter end paying homage to their mentors (not Mentors), have real big problems coping with (and owning up to) Class II soul-man soul-woman reckonings (see: K. Richards vs. C. Berry, rounds one and two).

THEORY IN PRACTICE Aficiondos-of-soul Simply Red, the oftimpressive new sextet from Manchester, England, offer few things terribly new or remarkably different and take few risks by assimilating tried-and-true soul postures. They are very typically white-boy fans of a well-mined genre, burgeoning in its latter-day Class II xerox ranks (e.g., Sade, Blow Monkeys, etc.). But their enthusiasm is for real and they’re good at resurrecting the feel. In this respect, the Class II xerox dispensed is of a frequently high grade.

The song that went crazy—“Holding Back The Years,” the band’s first #1 hit in the U.S.—is an autobiographical portrait of hard times for singer/songwriter and head Red Mick Hucknall:

“Holding back the years/Chance for me to escape/From all I’ve known/Holding Back The Tears/’Cause nothing here has grown... ”

The melody is instantly visceral, and very, very pretty. Maybe it recalls some bizarre midpoint of Carole King meets Otis Redding: the singer stretching to emote so effortlessly. Like he’s transfixed to some spiritually powerful wavelength of rapture and awe, Hucknall’s melody of melancholy affects this ethereal, vaporized network of passion and feeling. It really attains this dream-like otherworld quality—the kind of thing that plays through your mind over and over and over and won’t let go.

The gloomy specter of hometown Manchester, destitute and agonizing in a horrible swamp of unemployment, finds its way inside the band’s quiet and somber rage; Reagan-Thatcher right-wing economic politics has devoured the working class for a considerable time now. The brash outcry of last decade’s Sex Pistols/Clash faded ingloriously; Simply Red’s cries of pain are not the low-breathed grunts of food-ravaged beasts tearing at a fresh piece of meat, but more the symphony of wolves baying empty-stomached at an uncaring full moon. It is this dispossessed sadness that infects the listener with each twist and turn of the melodies’ contagious nuance.

“We can blow up any minute, catch AIDS any minute ... it’s all so insane.” —Mick Hucknall

“The situation in England is just soo miserable,” offers the carrot-topped Mick. “And in every sense it’s getting hard to get serious about it now. We can blow up any minute, catch AIDS any minute. This damned shit, it’s gonna wipe the world out. And the priests, with their hypocritical bullshit. The leaders of this world are too busy playing with their bombs—I mean, how many do they need? It’s all so insane. Everything’s breaking down, falling apart. The ozone layer, polar ice caps are melting... it’s so overwhelming, really. It’s hard to take seriously.”

Equally hard to ignore is their meteoric shot to the top courtesy of the hit. With the band now riding the crest of an exponential-like surge of listeners and fans (the biggest band from Manchester since the Hollies), do they feel responsible or morally comissioned to speak to this new-found constituency of political and social issues?

“To some degree: I would like to emphasize the importance of the family unit—the stable family. I think this is important. My parents were divorced when I was three,” Hucknall elongates, “but I was brought up by another family—including my father, which was great. And the family that I got there was so fantastic, it’s probably the reason I am the way I am. How this would translate into the music, who knows? But it’s something I feel very strongly about.”

Back in ’78, singer Mick of Simply Red was singer Mick of the Frantic Elevators, self-styled “punk-parodists” of sorts (“we would use these absurd guitar solos to show how lame it all was, but few people got the joke”). That project ground to a screeching halt in 1982. Hucknall then retired to duties of club DJ in hometown Manchester, “manning the turntable every Wednesday night for a dance-floor seminar called Black Rhythms.”

Black Rhythms being a cornerstone of his growing up, like so many of us. Still, the passion and sexuality was something he felt on a much deeper level—facilitating an almost supernatural ability to translate and sensitize this engrained R&B sensual kinship to the soul-felt themes of the current band.

“Sam Cooke, James Brown, Al Green, Marvin Gaye—I’ve always been fixated on this stuff.”

The Troggs?

“Well yeah—Reg Pressley.. .‘I Can’t Control Myself.. .‘Wild Thing,’ YOU MAKE MY HEART SING... He’s great, too.. .and the Pretty Things...”

“Night Of The Long Grass?”

“I can’t recall that one, but Reg Pressley. .. ”

What about all this ’60s stuff popular now, too? The Pandoras, the Bangles and lots more are emulating the whole ’60s

pop/psychedelic schtick. What do you think?

“Well, I really can’t say, I’m not certain what...”

Some liken these second-generation imitations to a sort of “xerox” carbon-copying of a prototype and style—and there’s some half-baked classification of sorts floating around describing so-called schools of xerox...

“Yeah?”

Do you see the music Simply Red emanates as xeroxing that of the rolemodels you pledge allegiance to?

“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘copying.’ ”

A CONCLUSION

In 1984, Hucknall, so the story goes, discovered the obscure “Money’s Too Tight To Mention” by the Valentine Brothers. Some lyrics were re-scribed and new impetus to start a band was suddenly realized. No time was lost in gathering crucial elements: new wave combo Durutti Columns’ Tony Bowers (bass) and Chris Joyce (drums). The incipient Simply Red was conceived.

Their first Elektra album, Picture Book, was produced by Stewart Levine, sax player on Little Eva’s “Locomotion,” producer of B.B. King and son-in-law of Quincy Jones. Chock full of classic Class II xerox R&B, this can be seen as annoying or wonderful, strictly as a function of your particular fove for hand-me-down soul-

strutting. The only companion to the poppy “Holding Back The Years” is side two’s closing opus and title track. But it ain’t half of the buzz that gushes from the grooves of “Years.” The question that rings loud and clear is whether or not the same measure of success can be achieved by way of the funk/soul xerox-connection the band seems dead-set on marketing. The

Chambers Brothers, in the beginning a gospel blues-based coalition, scored big with “Time Has Come Today,” a psychedelic mind warp-out appealing to fans of the Class II psych-out set. Yet to this day, Chambers Bro’ Joe will tell you how really mind-wrenching it was to try and repeat the feat, to come up with another “Time.” So whether or not Red and his fellow Simplys can clone the

chart-ride to the top of the pops remains to be seen. One-hit wonders??

“I’d like to—sometime soon—get into some jazzy stuff. We’ve been listening to a lot of Miles, Mingus, Monk and Coltrane, and inevitably I think the influence must come through. I think our new record is in many ways superior to the first—we spent a lot of time getting everything right. I think it shows.”

The new LP, Men And Women, stretches more for the soul/funk xerox scene than the previous offering. And, as with the best of Class II Xerox purveyors, the facsimiles of style recycled and transplanted are very much the replica of what earmarked this type of sound to begin with. Arguably, Patti Smith’s mutant band of Morrison/Dylan became the fulcrum with which her own indelible stamp was planted and launched. Above and beyond the coyness, the calculated xerox-mindset, there was something very real and mindaltering about the presentation: if you play

“The oxone layer, polar ice caps are melting.. .it’s so overwhelming.. —Mick Hucknall

the part, what ultimately turns relevant is whether or not the part becomes your own. This is what separates the xerox vanguards from the xerox-legion of studied parrots. The problem with Simply Red is that there is nothing terribly indelible or even endearing with the hand-me-down l’m-a-black-man readings of the real thing. “My Pledge Of Love” by the Joe Jeffreys Group blows away anything you’ll find run off and re-tread on either of these platters. And the list could continue.

There is nothing terribly riveting about Hucknall’s eclipse of soul-studied affectations. The conviction of intent’s there, there’s no way around this. He tries hard—and the band’s sympathetic in laying out the notes. But nothing really jumps out at you—nothing dose to the infectiously dreamy pop-sensibility of “Holding Back The Years.” Simply Red are convincing in their enthusiasm for the stuff; if you like the stuff, you might like the xerox maneuvers abundant in all shapes and forms. It’s good Class II xerox, but not much more.