AZTEC CAMERA: STRAY (1990)
1) Stray; 2) The Crying Scene;
3) Get Outta London; 4) Over My Head; 5) Good Morning Britain; 6) How It Is; 7)
The Gentle Kind; 8) Notting Hill Blues; 9) Song For A Friend.
Along with High
Land, Stray is considered one of
the two key cornerstones of the Roddy Frame legacy, and I concur. Nothing beats
the startling originality of High Land,
but Stray takes Roddy on an
entirely different goal — it is his take on The White Album, an ambitious stab at covering everything in sight
and sound, and one that nobody really saw coming, certainly not after the
Knopflerisms of Knife and the
dance-pop-a-roll of Love.
Mainly self-produced, with an entirely new
backing band (as usual) and a welcome guest spot from ex-Clash guitarist Mick
Jones, Stray does exactly what it is
supposed to do: it strays. In all sorts of directions. Pop rock, folk rock,
smooth jazz, rhythm and blues, and just a pinch of adult contemporary for
dessert — as much as one lonesome artist is able to cover in about fourty minutes.
Fortunately, he also happens to be a talented artist, which he almost made us
forget about on the more unbearably tedious moments of Knife and the cornier tricks of Love.
First off the bat, the two upbeat pop singles
released from the album are two of Roddy's best ever pop songs — ʽThe Crying
Sceneʼ is a masterpiece from top to bottom, be it the beat, the jangle, the
lyrics, or the structure of the chorus vocal melody; of all the pop songs to
hit the mainstream in 1990, this was the most perfect mixture of modern
sentimentality with retro flavours, and "Life's a one take movie and I
don't care what it means / I'm saving up my tears for the crying scene" is
a fantastic two-liner if there ever was one. ʽGood Morning Britainʼ, due to
Mick Jones' presence, does have a whiff of classic Clash arrogance to it, but
the carefully engineered melodic flow of the chorus is still one hundred
percent Roddy. The only minus is that there are two many keyboards on the song
and not nearly enough guitar interplay between the two.
The non-hit rockers are not much worse —
predictably, they are just a little less hooky, but ʽGet Outta Londonʼ is a
nice companion to ʽGood Morning Britainʼ, more vicious in its verbal attack
("down where the streets are paved with sick schemes, the river's running
like a snake through a dream" — how come the great god of the Thames
hasn't swallowed him up yet in retaliation?), somewhat less inventive in terms
of hooks; and on ʽHow It Isʼ, Roddy immerses himself in lyrical and,
especially, vocal Dylanisms, sort of trying to recapture the man's radioactive
sneer of old and stuff it into a brand new 1990 bottle. Effective.
I am less impressed by the softer numbers — the
gentle guitar/piano acoustic flow of the title track, the Chet Baker-influenced
vocal jazz of ʽOver My Headʼ, the roots-/synth-pop fusion of ʽThe Gentle Kindʼ.
But, unlike the fast stuff that latches on almost immediately, these things are
growers. The most difficult situation concerns ʽNotting Hill Bluesʼ, whose
seven-minute-long sprawl clearly marks it as a climactic point, and it does
feel like the most personal and directly felt number of the lot — it is simply
not too interesting from a musical standpoint. Banal as it may sound, Roddy's
confessionals strike hard only when they are catchy. Without his pop instincts,
he ain't no Van Morrison to work you up with just the power of his voice —
something that Knife already showed
well, yet, for some reason, here he is falling for the same problem just as Stray was heading for complete
perfection.
Nevertheless, occasional flaws and fillerisms
aside, the album is a major success,
and I am surprised that it seems to have all but vanished from the radars — in
1990, Britpop simply did not get much better than this. (In fact, what with the
time gap between the Smiths and Blur/Oasis, Britpop as such almost did not exist in 1990. And, for the record, we are using a broader definition of
Britpop here than the one that pins down Blur and Oasis as founders of the
genre). A thumbs
up all the way: the very fact that Roddy did not collapse under this
burden of diversity, but bravely bore it out, only slipping a bit towards the
end, deserves respect.
I would have to admit that there are moments when even the best songs on High Land manage to bore me - but how can you ever be bored by stuff like "Good Morning Britain" (now that I think of it, I most probably got interested in this record due to the presence of Mick Jones) or, indeed, "The Crying Scene"? Fuck, I even love the meandering hooks of "Notting Hill Blues" (on occasion). All in all - yeah, exteremely underapprecated stuff.
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