Talk Talk Talk By The Psychedelic Furs

Episode 2 in the series Great Albums You Might Not Know

So, to be clear, I bought the 45 of We Love You when I was studying at University College, London, in late 1979. I then bought every Psychedelic Furs release for the next three years. These records have a special place in my heart. Not quite up there with T.Rex and Bowie, but close. And yes, I stole The Price Of Medicine from Butler. Those were his first, and maybe only words to me, the one time I met him, in a NY club, late 80’s. It is the highest praise, I’m sure he knew.

The debut album is a hot mess of sneering petulance set in wall of guitars and drums and saxophone. It’s the sound of a young band who know what they want but they don’t quite know how to get it, yet. But when they do, on India and Sister Europe, it’s quite magnificent. Mostly you can’t hear the lyrics, and mostly, that’s a good thing. The word ‘stupid’ occurs 19 times on the album, ‘useless’, 12 times. Imitation of Christ is the only song that doesn’t feature one or the other, but it does manage ‘pathetic’. Young Richard, it seems, wasn’t particularly enamoured with very much of anything. But… that voice. He had figured out what he wanted to sound like. Equal parts Lydon and Bowie and sandpaper. “A painter who sings”. Not the other way around. He doesn’t always get it right on the debut, more often than not he doesn’t, but his delivery is supremely confident. This I can relate to. I was the same, but my voice didn’t say “I am a fucking rock star”.

The leap to Talk Talk Talk is huge. The curve exponential. Nothing on the debut prepares you for Dumb Waiters. Instead of a noise, occasionally beautiful, we have a slab of sound which is massive, powerful yet nuanced, with nods to No-Wave and The Stooges. And it’s relentless, just like No Fun.

Give me all your paper ma, give me all your jazz
Give me something that I need, something I can have
Mrs. London's coming 'round she's coming with her son
Gimme all your paper, ah, so I can get a gun

She has got it in for me
Yeah I mean it honestly

That honestly is right up there in the pantheon. It’s dripping with disdain and ennui. The preceding lines are by no means lyrical perfection. It doesn’t matter. One thing Butler knew was that it’s the sound of the words, it’s the impression that matters. He wants words that sound great with his voice. Beyond that, the minutiae… I don’t think we was that bothered, TBH.

Pretty In Pink is equally surprising, in 1981, anyway. Here’s a band that seems intent on skirting all mainstream rock cliche rehashing the Sweet Jane chords and creating a Classic Rock Song. It’s a perfect track 2. It’s completely wrong as track 1. What was it with American record companies, back then?

Butler walks a fine line with the lyric and he pulls it off. It’s an oddly warm cynicism the narrator exudes. The imagery of clothes passed from lover to lover is, well, lovely. My favourite line is the cutely ambiguous

She says “I love you” and “Too much”

Or is it

She says “I love you” and too much

???

It’s important, I think, that Pretty In Pink is before I Wanna Sleep With You which sounds like it’s stuck in a limbo between this album and the first. Not quite strong enough of an idea to pull off the antihero braggadocio. Not quite strong enough to pull off the willful absence of rhyme. Not quite weak enough to ruin the record.

The warm cynic returns on No Tears with that singing voice. He’s a lovable Lothario. Boys want to be him, and the girls…

There's demonstrations
And demonstrations
Listen, to the weathermen
They're not saying anything

There’s a deft touch to the arrangements which was mostly absent from the debut. The guitar sounds are still heavily treated, but more thoughtfully, less heavy handed. To repeat myself - it’s a pretty huge leap in just a year.

However, when discussing the album as a potential essay with my pal Dave Daley, the other day, we almost simultaneously exclaimed “Too much saxophone!”. Yes, there’s too much saxophone. The solo on No Tears isn’t terrible, but it isn’t great. Therein lies the challenge facing The Furs in 1981 - they have 2 guitarists, but the only solo instrument, voice excepted, is the sax. Huge swathes of guitar. Magnificent swathes. But not solos. If they could somehow have completed this project and avoided the traditional solo breaks, who knows? It might well have been a 10/10.

Speaking of magnificent swathes, Mr Jones takes that debut album energy and noise and distills it into something far more potent. It’s the Motorik beat with extra muscle. It’s huge and irresistible. Prime post punk. Student disco mayhem.

Into You Like A Train opens side 2 and probably should have been track 3. Lyrically, it does everything I Wanna Sleep With You tries to do, and more. Remember, this is 1981. It’s cool for guys to be sensitive and consider themselves feminists. Cock Rock is vile and outdated. Well, Butler somehow pulls off a post-punk post-feminist nihilist stance. It’s not just the words, which, frankly, aren’t that great. It’s the delivery. It’s that voice. I’m sure there were a few dissenters. No me, though. And let’s not forget the rest of the band. They sound like they just want to pummel the listener into submission, here. Great guitar sax interplay.

The relentless drive continues on It Goes On, which opens with the brutality of an 80’s Stooges. Butler snarls, as he does.

There isn't any reason
There isn't any sense
Nothing else is happening
This is where you are

Is he ‘saying anything’? Maybe not. Maybe it’s better that way.

So Run Down keeps up the energy level but, like I Wanna Sleep With You, seems somehow stuck in 1980. No real damage done, but listening today, I’d skip it.

Butler seems to have been very pleased with
All day day wear
So much that I’d suggest he over used it. It’s not that clever.

Now, to the big one. The epic. Acoustic guitars! What?!? I’m pretty sure that 20 year old me thought this intro was amazing. It isn’t, but it does set up the Intro Proper very nicely, and when the Electric Guitar and Drums enter, they do so with Aplomb. To put it mildly. The guitar is HUGE. The riff is HUGE. All Of This And Nothing - the band’s most ambitious piece, at that juncture. 6 minutes 23 seconds.

A phonebook full of accidents
A girl to drive your car
A suit to wear on Mondays
And a coat a magazine
A heavy rain a holiday
A painting of the wall
A knife, a fork and memories
A light to see it all

You didn't leave me anything
That I can understand

It’s pretty great, really great, and then, well, it doesn’t quite deliver the money shot.

Hey, I never meant that stuff
I want to turn you round

Isn’t, IM (not so) HO, quite up to the standard of the rest of the lyric. And he resolves two more choruses this way until the final, excellent conclusion

Now I'm left with all of this
A room full of your trash

Picking hairs? Sure, maybe… but the song is ALMOST perfect.

As is the closer She Is Mine which takes Butler’s warm cynic even closer to being genuinely sweet.

I had to pay the doorman just to let me use the door (Fall in love)
I had to use a muscleman to pick me off the floor (She is mine)

Lovely. Too much sax, but lovely.

The band that refuses to be a rock pop band makes an almost perfect rock pop album.

9/10.

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