THE B-52'S: BOUNCING OFF THE SATELLITES (1986)
1) Summer Of Love; 2) Girl
From Ipanema Goes To Greenland; 3) Housework; 4) Detour Thru Your Mind; 5) Wig;
6) Theme For A Nude Beach; 7) Ain't It A Shame; 8) Juicy Jungle; 9)
Communicate; 10) She Brakes For Rainbows.
Goodbye Ricky Wilson, hello 1986. Had we not
known the circumstances, it would be tempting to speculate that Ricky Wilson
took his own life so as to be free of the terror of witnessing the worst year
in musical history, but in reality, of course, he died of AIDS several months
after the initial sessions for this record were completed. Predictably, the
band plunged into depression, distractedly patched up the final product,
released it with relatively little promotion, did not go on tour, and
eventually just took a long, long hiatus.
But the main problem with this album is
certainly not Ricky's death, since, after all, most of it was written and much
of it was recorded while he was still alive, and carefully concealing his illness
from his friends and relatives. The main problem... wait, there are two main
problems, actually. First, that musically they have practically completed the
transition to regular synth-pop. Not all of the record is electronic, but when
the opening number populates the entire first minute with nothing but drum
machines and synths, you know where the priorities lie.
Second, and even worse, is the realization that
the band's ship finally collided with the reef of seriousness, and it isn't the
reef that's going down. From top to bottom, Bouncing Off The Satellites is loaded with quasi-sincere
romanticism (ʽSummer Of Loveʼ, ʽShe Brakes For Rainbowsʼ), social messagism
(ʽCommunicateʼ), eco-friendly anthemism (ʽJuicy Jungleʼ), and stone-faced
absurdism (ʽGirl From Ipanema Goes To Greenlandʼ, a straightforward
synth-rocker whose title is far more interesting than its contents).
There is only one number on the entire album
that tries to recreate the old party atmosphere, and in doing that, it goes
over the top — ʽWigʼ, celebrating the principal visual fetish of the band's entire
career, ultimately sounds like somebody's rather flat parody on the B-52's,
filled with cheap «wig humor» and minimal lyrics. And in the context of the
album its absurdly fast tempos, «exuberant» group harmonies, and repetitive
mantras ("wigs on fire, wigs on fire!") sound like something they
forced on themselves at the last minute ("hey guys, this thing's coming
out too morose, let's make the silliest song in the universe or
something").
It is not utterly without redeem. The band
still remembers the craft of vocal hooks, the girls and Fred are still in fine
voice, and they still know how to weave a good mood, even if the thread now
consists of about 80% electronic fiber. ʽShe Brakes For Rainbowsʼ, in
particular, is a very pretty conclusion, which could, in a way, be seen as
Cindy's paradise-evoking eulogy for her brother: considering the circumstances,
Bouncing Off The Satellites could be
justified to end on a colorful, melancholic-romantic note. Pierson's
ʽHouseworkʼ is hilarious — a wicked send-up of the «tough girl» image of 1980's
pop culture that you could read literally, ironically, or both ("don't
need a man to make me mean / I need a man to help me clean"). And ʽDetour
Through Your Mindʼ, Fred's stream-of-conscious collage of sci-fi, psychedelia,
and social critique run through a simple, but not too annoying dance track and
the girls' cloudy harmonies, merits additional listens (including a backwards
one, in order to decode the spoken message at the end — which, unlike Wikipedia,
I won't ruin for you).
I have also learned to near-enjoy ʽJuicy
Jungleʼ, despite its straightforward environmentalism (nothing wrong with
environmentalism, but when I want to hear about jungle preservation, I don't
think Fred Schneider should be the first person I'd have in mind) — the «stern»
chorus is just too catchy. On the other hand, ʽSummer Of Loveʼ and ʽGirl From
Ipanemaʼ let their synth-pop arrangements overshadow the vocals, vibes, and
lyrics; and ʽTheme For A Nude Beachʼ is literally the worst B-52's song up to
date — it gets easier to swallow if you keep reminding yourself that it is
really a parody on the decade's epitome-of-tastelessness «beach romance dance
numbers», but it's still hard to do because the song itself, every now and
then, seems to forget that it's a parody and takes on a quasi-serious life of
its own.
Overall, I'm on the fence here — initial pure
hatred for this record has slowly dissipated once the hooks and some
intelligence came through, so, in the end, I would just regard it as an
ill-fated product of its epoch, infected by its most frequent viruses. All of
these songs could have been written and recorded in 1979, with a completely
different effect. One should hardly force oneself to like Bouncing Off The
Satellites, but to me, it is clearly a product of a «misguided» band here
rather than that of a «washed up» one. In retrospect, we can probably forgive
and ignore the flaws — in a way, it's a wonder that, given the circumstances,
they still managed to come up with something listenable in the first place —
and concentrate on the strengths.
Check "Bouncing Off The Satellites" (MP3) on Amazon
A curious muddled record. It's certainly the weakest of the Ricky-era, but I don't feel any major dislike towards it (aside from one or two tracks like "Nude Beach"). The musical backing is getting more generic thanks partly to the studio musicians called in to replace Ricky on some tracks, but also to the general synthiness of the late 80s. I'm actually quite fond of most of the first side, "Ipanema" and "Summer" aren't exactly the most distinctive songs ever but they're both solid and have some of the girl's strongest vocals. I really like "Detour" as well.
ReplyDeleteYou hit the nail on the head with the "misguided rather than washed up" comment. This is the end of the band's most prime years, but it still falls under the banner. When they would return after their hiatus they would still be capable of some good stuff but something was missing.