Be-Bop Deluxe: Radioland Deluxe. BBC Radio 1 Live In Concert

BE-BOP DELUXE: RADIOLAND DELUXE: BBC RADIO 1 LIVE IN CONCERT (1976-1978/1994)

1) Life In The Air Age; 2) Sister Seagull; 3) Third Floor Heaven; 4) Blazing Apostles; 5) Maid In Heaven; 6) Kiss Of Light; 7) Adventures In A Yorkshire Landscape; 8) Fair Exchange; 9) Ships In The Night; 10) Modern Music; 11) New Precision; 12) Superenigmatix; 13) Possession; 14) Dangerous Stranger; 15) Island Of The Dead; 16) Panic In The World.

This is one of those BBC packages which collects tracks that were actually played at theater venues in front of live audiences and broadcast subsequently, so it does function as a «real» live album, not «live in the studio», and is in some ways preferable to Live! In The Air Age. Most of the tracks are also chronologically coherent, dating back to early 1976 (the Sunburst Finish era; tracks 1-4, recorded at the Paris Theatre on the 15th of January) or late 1976 (the Modern Music era, recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon on the 10th of October) — with a further six-track «appendix» from a show at Golders Green Hippodrome on the 19th of January, 1978, represen­ted exclusively by numbers from Drastic Plastic. (Note also that the whole package was originally released in 1994, then remastered and re-released in 2002 under the somewhat less clumsy title of Tremulous Antenna).

There is not really that much to say about the whole thing, except that the sound quality is excel­lent — Nelson's vocals and guitar blaze across the living room with as much power and clarity as you'd expect from a well-produced studio recording — and that the band, as expected, is precise and consistent throughout. The major problem is the same as with Live!: the songs just do not depart all that much from the studio counterparts, or at least the departures do not jump right out at the listener, and should rather be appreciated by long-term hardcore fans. This is a particular concern for Drastic Plastic-era material, where Nelson was leaving less space for improvisation and variation — not so much for the early stuff; in that respect, as usual, ʽAdventures In A York­shire Landscapeʼ is the primary focus of attraction, with Nelson and keyboardist Andy Clark taking turns to offer their spontaneous bursts of inspiration to the listeners.

On the other hand, it may be interesting, for instance, to hear the entire ʽModern Musicʼ suite per­formed without the cloak of studio trickery, or ʽNew Precisionʼ without the «walking into the sea» overdubs of splashing water, but with extra guitar and keyboard noises to suggest aquatic interference rather than simply bring it over, or a slightly «lazier», but no less mind-blowing call of the seagull at the end of ʽSister Seagullʼ... there, I have pretty much exhausted the list of dif­ferences. But when all has been really said and done, Radioland is basically just a way of revi­siting the different, but similar faces of this band one last time — particularly since I have no problem whatsoever with the track selection (no repeats, as is BBC's custom, and no mediocre material from the early Futurama days, bar the great concise hits). Thumbs up.

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Be-Bop Deluxe: Drastic Plastic

BE-BOP DELUXE: DRASTIC PLASTIC (1978)

1) Electrical Language; 2) New Precision; 3) New Mysteries; 4) Surreal Estate; 5) Love In Flames; 6) Panic In The World; 7) Dangerous Stranger; 8) Superenigmatix; 9) Visions Of Endless; 10) Possession; 11) Islands Of The Dead; 12*) Blimps; 13*) Lovers Are Mortal; 14*) Lights.

It seems very easy to mistake Drastic Plastic for a New Wave album, but if we are operating with genrisms in the first place, I would still rather think of it in terms of «glam». Up to the very last moment of its existence, the Be-Bop Deluxe sound was loud, expansive, flashy, cocky, what­ever, even long after Nelson had reneged on the principle of choking his basic melodies with mountains of guitar improv. Yes, he did cut down on guitar heroics, add more keyboards, expand his horizons with new ideas, but Drastic Plastic still betrays a child of the early 1970s, as far as my ears tell me, at least.

It is a good album all the same, and it may, in fact, even contain the single largest number of memorable hooks that Nelson ever had the chance to collect on a single LP. However, its being all over the place — as Bill explores page after page of the blues, pop, funk, hard rock, even rock­abilly books — is not necessarily a plus. The songs are not that good, and the overall impression is that of a highly experienced and talented, but kinda clueless artist in search of... well, in search of a new light for an old direction, so to speak. I enjoy this stuff, sure, but I am not certain if there would be any reason for me to come revisit it some time later.

ʽElectrical Languageʼ is a pretty attractive power-pop opener with a romantic (not «New Roman­tic», just romantic) flavor and a very democratic balance between the synthesizers, now turning cold but still friendly rather than robotic, and Nelson's guitar. One could see where it might have been some invigorating introduction to a concept album of sorts — on how to express old feel­ings with new technologies, that kind of thing. Then, however, we start meandering. Titles like ʽNew Precisionʼ and ʽNew Mysteriesʼ, especially if they are sitting right next together, suggest that the focus will be on «technocracy», and both have a certain «Gary Numan scent» to them, but they are not exactly the epitome of admirable precision or deep thrilling mystery — they just kind of roll along to more or less the same martial rhythms, nothing too mystifying or terrifying about them. Rumour has it that Nelson was, in fact, closely monitoring the latest developments in his major idol's career, but these songs are nowhere near the psychic intensity of Bowie's «Berlin trilogy» — among other things, this is also because Bowie had Eno to keep him company (not to mention an occasional Robert Fripp as well), whereas the keyboards on Drastic Plastic are hand­led with taste and reservation, but without any seeming touch of genius.

Still, the record gets by merely on the strength of its bizarre plunges into the unpredictable. For instance, ʽLove In Flamesʼ sounds like a proto-New Waver's parody on hard rock ecstasy — with a guitar-hero finale in which Nelson is channelling the spirits of Angus Young and Alvin Lee at the same time in a hilariously flashy mode. ʽDangerous Strangerʼ is nothing if not a «new-era re­write» of Eddie Cochran's ʽSummertime Bluesʼ (even the bass vocal line is retained from the ori­ginal), inessential fun but curious simply in terms of its existence. ʽPossessionʼ is glossified garage, Alice Cooper style — all that is missing is that extra snarl in Nelson's voice to make the track register on the same shelf as something from Alice's own Flush The Fashion.

Arguably the best track (although some competition is provided by the humorous catchy pop song ʽPanic In The Worldʼ) is the album closer, ʽIslands Of The Deadʼ, a fine tribute to Nelson's own departed father — no predictable sadness, no trivial sentimentality, just a solid folk-based art-pop song with a friendly pagan concept (others would have probably sung about the joys of Heaven; Bill goes beyond the boring tenets of monotheism). Still, it is not fabulous «per se»; its classiness is mainly provided by the context — writing a song about the dearly departed without falling on musical and lyrical clichés by the dozen is complicated even for a genius, and Bill Nelson does not quite fit my vision of genius (at the very least, just like Bowie, he is just too smart to let the genius come awake, and usually gets by through the force of intellect).

In any case, even if I do not see anything drastic about this plastic, this is yet another stimulating experience — rounding out a small, but remarkably even (with the possible exception of Futu­rama, where I do not see eye to eye with the fans) collection with another respectable thumbs up. Less than a year later, Nelson would pull the plug on Be-Bop Deluxe, realizing that, in the im­mortal words of Decca executives, «guitar bands are on their way out» and finally shifting to the intellectual department of modern sound exploitation — leaving behind the oh-so-seventies image of the «brainy guitar rocker». Come to think of it, he may not have had another choice. But it was fun — although a very strange kind of fun — while it lasted.

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Be-Bop Deluxe: Live! In The Air Age

BE-BOP DELUXE: LIVE! IN THE AIR AGE (1977)

1) Life In The Air Age; 2) Ships In The Night; 3) Piece Of Mine; 4) Fair Exchange; 5) Mill Street Junction; 6) Ad­ventures In A Yorkshire Landscape; 7) Blazing Apostles; 8) Shine; 9) Sister Seagull; 10) Maid In Heaven.

Recorded on a UK tour in early 1977, this is the official answer to all of the fans' red-hot prayers for a live Be-Bop Deluxe record — but coming just a wee bit too late in the band's career, I'd say. Because there is no better reason to hope for some documentation of Bill Nelson's live powers than a desire to check the man's guitar prowess in action — yet, by that time, Nelson was already edging away from the status of a guitar hero and moving more in the direction of «economic» songwriting. There is plenty of guitar prowess on display here, not to worry; but not the sort of bold, reckless melodic experimentation as first seen on Axe Victim — for the most part, things are kept under tight control, almost as if, with new musical values on the horizon and all, Nelson was becoming afraid of potential accusations of «wankery».

Altogether, the selected setlist, spread across an unusual format of one LP and one «bonus» EP, includes but two sprawling workouts. ʽAdventures In A Yorkshire Landscapeʼ, extended by a good four minutes from the original running length, contains several fusion-style workouts in the spirit (though not quite in the form) of John McLaughlin, interspersed with Simon Clark's less involving, but pretty, keyboard solos. In stark contrast, ʽShineʼ (not the same as the studio re­cording, appended as a bonus track to Sunburst Finish) goes for a completely different mix of funkiness and psyche­delia — real trippy, far-out-there stuff that sounds like nothing else in the band's catalog.

The majority of the other tracks comes from Sunburst Finish — oddly enough, none of the material from Modern Music was seen fit for inclusion, even though the tour itself was allegedly held to promote the latest record — and they are not too drastically different from the original, be­ing about as well-polished and well-rehearsed as the studio blueprints. Then, almost as a «for-the-casual-fans» afterthought, Futurama is represented by quick, polite, but honest runs through ʽSister Seagullʼ and ʽMaid In Heavenʼ on the last side of the EP.

All in all, due to solid choice of material and professional commitment, In The Air Age is never «bad» or «unlistenable», but it is still a disappointment — adding very little, if anything at all, to our understanding of and «spiritual bond» with the band and Nelson in person. Serious fans will, of course, enjoy the many nuances and appreciate the minute differences in tones, tempos, and textures, but this really ain't no Live At Leeds or Made In Japan, where these differences just jump out and kick you in the face, regardless of how many years of experience you have had with the bands in question. A pity, that — Be-Bop Deluxe was one of those bands that seems like it had enough brains and brawn to make their stage act into a separate phenomenon from their stu­dio creativity. Maybe it was just a case of unlucky selection, but, whatever be the answer, I am not going to implore you to run off in search of Be-Bop Deluxe live bootlegs based on this par­ticular experience; sticking to the studio albums seems quite enough.

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Be-Bop Deluxe: Modern Music

BE-BOP DELUXE: MODERN MUSIC (1976)

1) Orphans Of Babylon; 2) Twilight Capers; 3) Kiss Of Light; 4) The Bird Charmers Destiny; 5) The Gold At The End Of My Rainbow; 6) Bring Back The Spark; 7) Modern Music; 8) Dancing In The Moonlight (All Alone); 9) Honeymoon On Mars; 10) Lost In The Neon World; 11) Dance Of The Uncle Sam Humanoids; 12) Modern Music (reprise); 13) Forbidden Lovers; 14) Down On Terminal Street; 15) Make The Music Magic.

Even more disciplined and «song-oriented» than Sunburst Finish — although one needn't get any false ideas about shifting the overall style by simply looking at the album cover: suits and ties they may be sporting, but the hair is still fairly long, and even the word «modern» in the album title does not necessarily mean «New Wave», «punk», «reggae», «electronica», etc. For now, only one concession is being made, albeit a serious one: Modern Music shows serious quotas introduced on «guitar wizardry». For the first time ever, Nelson intentionally refuses to stretch out with heroic solo passages on any of the tracks — which is why most of them are so unusually short — and concentrates on songwriting and atmosphere rather than dazzling technique.

In fact, he might even be concentrating a bit too hard. The final version of the record has 15 tracks instead of the usual 10, and, although some of these are represented by very brief musical «links», the general feeling is that there is too much going on. Some of the songs are genuinely meaningful and evocative, but on the whole, Nelson is not a master songwriter, and when he sud­denly sets himself this challenge — to generate as many songwriting ideas as possible per one LP — it is probably inevitable that a large fraction of these ideas will not work, and those that will may get lost in the forest. And when I say «forest» with a negative connotation, I mean tracks like ʽHoney­moon On Marsʼ: big, pompous, Ziggy Stardust-age compositions, all echo and phasing and anthemic vocals and little in the way of interesting melodic concept. Unfortunately, there is a lot of such stuff here, and it has nothing to do with suits and ties, in fact, it almost sounds nostal­gic in the context of 1976.

On the other hand, this is the album that also gave us ʽKiss Of Lightʼ — a conscious attempt, I think, at recreating the success of ʽSister Seagullʼ, since both songs are driven by a major hook in the form of a screechy, high-pitched guitar riff, and both are among the decade's finest brand of «burly romantic» arena-rock anthems, combining crowdpleasing potential with intelligence and craft. On paper, a crude start like "the woman of moon flew into my room last night" might make one cringe, but put it together with Bill's tricky shuffling of thick distorted riffage and liltingly clean melodic lines — and it works. Maybe because underneath all that romance, as the guitar and the vocals suggest, lies a thick layer of irony.

It is also not true that the pomp is never enjoyable. On ʽThe Gold At The End Of My Rainbowʼ, it most certainly is, since the anthemic chorus is so elegantly and conclusively shaped — and the song becomes a credible power ballad even without the power of the guitar solo. But in general, the most interesting moments of Modern Music are those where Nelson strays the farthest away from the already well-known formula: for instance, on the funk oddity ʽDance Of The Uncle Sam Humanoidsʼ, which, according to its title, should be about something anti-American, but, since it's instrumental, who can really tell (unless the occasional sound effects such as bullets whistling over your head count as implicit condemnations of Yankee violence). Or on ʽTwilight Capersʼ which, for no obvious reason, quotes the Dragnet theme out of the blue. Or on the title track which opens with a series of radio noises — including the listener tuning in, out of sheer accident, of course, on ʽAxe Victimʼ and ʽSister Seagullʼ — before turning into the album's most senti­mental number, almost a prayer to the power of music on the radiowaves.

Actually, ʽModern Musicʼ is not entirely self-contained, but rather acts as an introduction (and, later on, as a reprised coda) to an Abbey Road-style futuristic mini-suite — the one that includes both boring (ʽHoneymoon On  Marsʼ) and exciting (ʽUncle Sam Humanoidsʼ) parts. Presenting it all as «modern music» seems like a funny miscalculation: futuristic it may be in spirit, but on the whole, it is still way more old-school glam-rock than a foresight of the radically new things to come. But the idea of transition from lengthy, drawn-out space jams to these economic snippets, where Nelson's guitar forms the backbone of the song, but leaves out the fireworks, might be such a foresight — as if putting on that suit and tie was a symbolic gesture that also surmised imposing limits on Nelson's «sonic ego».

The bottomline is — it all depends on whether you have more love and respect for Bill as a player or for Bill as a songwriter. If one of your favorite Be-Bop Deluxe songs is ʽNo Trains To Heavenʼ, you will need to come to terms with Modern Music, and live with the fact that the end of 1976 was marked by imposing a heavy tax on guitar pyrotechnics. If, however, going against the grain of mainstream criticism, you find Nelson to be a great master of melody, Modern Music has every chance of becoming your favorite Be-Bop Deluxe album — good melodies or bad melodies, there is a lot of them here, and the old spirit, perhaps not as freely roaming as before, is still largely intact. Anyway, a thumbs up is still well guaranteed.

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Be-Bop Deluxe: Sunburst Finish

BE-BOP DELUXE: SUNBURST FINISH (1976)

1) Fair Exchange; 2) Heavenly Homes; 3) Ships In The Night; 4) Crying To The Sky; 5) Sleep That Burns; 6) Beauty Secrets; 7) Life In The Air Age; 8) Like An Old Blues; 9) Crystal Gazing; 10) Blazing Apostles.

Turning temporary session player Andy Clark into the band's resident keyboard master was pro­bably not the main reason why Sunburst Finish might look like a serious improvement over the «sophomore slump». After all, he is never credited for any songwriting, nor is he some sort of Rick Wakeman, capable of adding exciting (if not always meaningful) passages to melodically unexciting compositions. On the other hand, fleshing the band out with an additional layer of sound could somehow have brought about a more disciplined approach to songwriting... well, the point is, Sunburst Finish is a little less about virtuoso guitar playing than Axe Victim, and a little more about meaningful hooks than Futurama. In other words, all the three albums of Be-Bop Deluxe's «glam» period are similar, yet all are also different.

Although ʽFair Exchangeʼ opens the record with feedback blasts, these are quickly replaced by quite modern-sounding synthesizer patterns — inspired, one might add, not so much by the robo­tic fantasies of Kraftwerk as by the idealistic pulsations of Who's Next: modern they might be, but the New Wave penchant for «refrigerator electronica» had not yet caught up with Nelson by that particular point in time. In fact, electronic pulses soon give way to good old-fashioned rock and roll guitars (playing a riff akin to AC/DC's ʽHigh Voltageʼ), enhanced with a grand piano sound that seemes to show Roy Bittan's influence. Bruce Springsteen meets the Young brothers — hey, that could actually work, and on ʽFair Exchangeʼ, it does. As is often the case, it is hard to get what the song is about, but it is definitely about somebody's highbrowed anger, and the riffs, solos, and keyboard enhancements are all in agreement on that.

However, Nelson is willing to compromise his artistic integrity even further: ʽShips In The Nightʼ, released as the «commercially oriented» single from the album, is basically a ska song, tripped up and decorated with artsy passages, but, in the end, with an overall message that is hardly much different from that of ʽOb-La-Di Ob-La-Daʼ: "Without love, we are like ships in the night, selling our souls down the river", sung to a boppy, cheery pattern. There is not that much guitar on the song at all — it is primarily driven by the rhythm section and the keyboards, culminating in a «mock-sax» electronic solo that almost puts the song in campy parody territory. Who knows, maybe it was a parody — Nelson's ironic take on a «commercial» tune that paid off very well, since the song became Be-Bop Deluxe's highest point on the charts. But I think that it must only have soured Bill's impression of the true meaning of «chart life» even further.

That said, ʽShips In The Nightʼ is hardly the best choice to convey the general spirit of the album. Such a choice could, for instance, be ʽSleep That Burnsʼ, an ambitious chunk of composing that rolls through hard-rocking choo-choo sections, music hall extravaganzas, psychedelic interludes with backwards solos, and finally explodes after a massive guitar/keyboard build-up in the coda. And it does have a catchy chorus behind all that, despite its primary goal of conveying an atmo­sphere of hyperactive personal torment: the «sleep that burns» in question is of a kind that causes the patient to chuck his TV out of the window rather than pop pills and moonwalk. Emphasis is always on burning, not on sleeping (or not sleeping).

Or it could be Nelson's equivalent of the power ballad spot — ʽHeavenly Homesʼ, an inspiring mix of romantic piano, acoustic guitar, and glam riffs that, once again, sounds like an arithmetic mean between Bowie and Hammill, but grander than the former and more «song-like» than the latter. For all his irony and cynicism, Nelson has nothing against the old heart-on-sleeve trick from time to time, except that he never forgets to back it up with a return to harsh reality — ʽHea­venly Homesʼ joyfully flutters past the stars for several minutes before smashing, full speed, into the hardbodied asteroid of the "Heavenly homes... are hard to find..." chorus, set to a variation on Pink Floyd's descending/ascending ʽEchoesʼ riff for a sharp doom-laden effect.

Since most of the songs are marinated in the same musical and lyrical idiom, it makes little sense to comment on all of them: chances are that if you like one, you'll like the rest as well, so a thumbs up is quite imminent. But note that it also makes sense to hunt for the CD reissue, which adds three interesting bonus tracks: an almost totally instrumental psycho-funk jam (ʽShineʼ), a dark romantic ballad with a surprisingly tender and introspective underbelly (ʽSpeed Of The Windʼ), and a slow dance-style B-side with a psychedelic guitar/synth duet (ʽBlue As A Jewelʼ) — all three are curious in their own ways, and all three are quite different from the average style of the album itself.

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Be-Bop Deluxe: Futurama

BE-BOP DELUXE: FUTURAMA (1975)

1) Stage Whispers; 2) Love With The Madman; 3) Maid In Heaven; 4) Sister Seagull; 5) Sound Track; 6) Music In Dreamland; 7) Jean Cocteau; 8) Between The Worlds; 9) Swan Song.

This stylistically similar follow-up to Axe Victim sounds somewhat inferior to me: the novelty of approach is gone, the hooks do not seem to be quickly hurrying to the rescue, and the slight toning down of «glam» elements results in the whole thing looking more sullen, solemn, and serious in form, but not necessarily in substance — at the same time sacrificing some of the hu­mor and irony of Axe Victim.

The band itself is completely different: this time, we have a trio, with Charlie Tu­mahai (originally from New Zealand, no less) on bass and Simon Fox on drums — and the music produced by Roy Thomas Baker, who had earlier worked with Queen and Hawkwind, among others. However, the show is still completely run by Nelson, now overdubbing his own rhythm, lead, and keyboard playing — so that only a highly perceptive ear will notice the subtle changes from Axe Victim, at least, the ones that do not directly deal with Nelson's own artistic evolution.

The subtlest change, perhaps, is that there are no more songs like ʽJet Silver And The Dollsʼ: that strain of ceremonial-idealistic space anthem songwriting has been eliminated in favor of sharper, sneerier compositions that look more and more like free-form post-Shakesperian monologs. An example is ʽBetween The Worldsʼ, released as the first single from the album but withdrawn after just one day of (non-)sales — a stormy, theatrical performance that gets by on the strength of Nelson's passionate guitar parts and Hammill-esque vocals, but little else. It was then quickly re­placed on the shelves with ʽMaid In Heavenʼ, a shorter, more heavy riff-based power anthem that could, perhaps, be described as «Boston covering Hunky Dory-era Bowie»: emotionally un­in­volving music, redeemed by the frontman's personality and then, for some reason, provided with an extra level of thick distortion, phasing, background vocals, etc., as if putting on all this make­up might be enough to finally make our heads spin. No, I don't think it really works.

Sometimes it does — when the frontman manages to come up with a truly impressive musical or «sonic» solution. ʽSister Seagullʼ, for instance, has a two-part heavy / high-pitched riff that re­gisters well in the head, and the «seagull» motif is featured very consistently in Nelson's playing, nowhere more so than in the directly birdcry-imitating outro. ʽStage Whispersʼ opens the album with a barnstorm of crazy licks, promising to be even more of a gas than ʽAxe Victimʼ — but then it ultimately fails to deliver on that promise. Everybody can produce that sort of gallop; not everybody can make it stand out, and this time, even Nelson's technique does not help.

I give the album a thumbs down. It was a tough decision to make: the frontman has lost none of the conviction, energy, or technique, and I have no reason to doubt that this boldly anti-commer­cial music (although one could probably list Nelson's kick-ass guitar-hero playing style as a com­mercial element all the same) truly comes «from the heart». But I was not able to get into almost any of these songs, with the exception of ʽSister Seagullʼ; even the music-hall and pastoralist elements in the Brit-pop-influenced ʽMusic In Dreamlandʼ never seem to gel together into any­thing genuinely meaningful, or at least «probing». On the whole, this just looks like one of those «sophomore slumps» — the best ideas having all been used up for Axe Victim, Futurama is just scraping the bottom of the original proverbial barrel.

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Be-Bop Deluxe: Axe Victim

BE-BOP DELUXE: AXE VICTIM (1974)

1) Axe Victim; 2) Love Is Swift Arrows; 3) Jet Silver And The Dolls Of Venus; 4) Third Floor Heaven; 5) Night Creatures; 6) Rocket Cathedrals; 7) Adventures In Yorkshire Landscape; 8) Jets At Down; 9) No Trains To Heaven; 10) Darkness (L'Immoraliste).

Take any random opinion on Axe Victim today, about forty years away from its original syn­thesis, and it is very likely that the opinion will be judging the album from a Ziggy Stardust per­spective: «Oh, it's such a wannabe David Bowie project!» This is not altogether unfounded, but, for some reason, most of these opinions miss another connection, in my view, perhaps even better justified — Peter Hammill. Naturally, many more people are familiar with classic Bowie than with classic Van Der Graaf Generator or Peter's solo career, but still, I believe that a description of the early Be-Bop Deluxe sound as a meticulously engineered «cross» between Bowie and Hammill would be much more accurate than simply branding Bill Nelson and his associates as a bunch of «Bowie copycats», for better or worse.

«Be-Bop Deluxe» was just a posh name for Bill Nelson, who wrote all the songs, sang all the lead vocals, and played all the guitar leads — well, okay, his backers on Axe Victim include Ian Parkin on rhythm guitar, Robert Bryan on bass, and Nicholas Chatterton-Dew on drums, but no one is supposed to memorize this info, since already by the time of the second album Nelson had dissolved the band and recruited a completely different line-up, and also because Nelson is, fair and square, the only instrumentalist on the album to deserve serious attention: an «axe victim» in­deed, stuffing all possible and impossible bits of space with his trills, drills, fills, and thrills. If it didn't work so well, it would be suffocating. Strangely, it does work.

Despite the name, «Be-Bop Deluxe» never played any be-bop, deluxe or not. Instead, Nelson had a thing for sprawling, glammy, anthemic art-rock with a futuristic twist — hence the Bowie con­nection, particularly well visible in his vocal style (he likes to combine starry-eyed idealism and snub-nosed sarcasm within a single line) and his guitar playing, which, of all possible compari­sons, indeed, seems closest to Mick Ronson's classic style — shrill, grand, frenetic playing, thick on high pitch, speedy arpeggios, crescendos, echo effects, and everything else necessary to throw the listener in overdrive, whatever it takes. But he does have plenty of real technique, so it is not just a cheap show-off manoeuvre — nor do the songs ever turn into interminable boring jams, caressing the player's ego until his fingers start hurting.

On second thought, it's not that often that the «songs» ever really turn into actual songs, either, and this is where the Hammill comparison falls in place. Keeping up with the rock theater spirit, Nelson does not hold much respect for verse/chorus structures — his creations are spirited rhyth­mic rants, prone to unexpected tonality and tempo changes whenever they feel like it, and to short or long lead guitar intrusions whenever the lead guitar feels it. The title track introduces the for­mula — the vocals enter on the first second, the first lead line enters on the fourth, and from then on the two seem to be locked in a death-fight. Will the singer outbawl the guitar player? Will the guitar player bring the singer down in a lightning barrage? Oh wait, they're the same guy. Well then, it's sort of obvious that they can't waste too much time on silly things like choruses, hooks, riffs, and any of that «pop» drivel.

Consequently, it might take a bit of time to get into the spirit of things — imagine, if you wish, a Ziggy Stardust with all of the obvious attention-grabbing twists removed, and the operatic nature of it enhanced fiftyfold. What do you get? Peter Hammill — a little more rock'n'roll-oriented, a little less gifted as a singer, but a little more skilled at guitar fireworks. The question is: are you ready to buy this, or is it all just one big, hollow, insubstantial put-on? Does this guy have a heart of gold or is he made of straw and sawdust on the inside? (I couldn't put this any other way, so excuse me the clichés).

Personally, I like this stuff. The way Nelson gets right down to business, jumping into the spot­light with his big voice and bigger guitar from the very first second, displays a stunning lack of fear at being branded «pretentious» — and as his lyrics spin strange tales of vain stage glories, sci-fi escapism, and ruined English countrysides, and his guitar throws out semi-improvised pas­sages that seem inspired by pop, rock, blues, jazz, and classical alike, depending on the artist's mood, Axe Victim has every chance of eventually placing you under an odd spell.

For those who really cannot imagine their life without a catchy hook, it may be advisable to start out with ʽJet Silver And The Dolls Of Venusʼ, which is probably the closest they got to a «glam-pop» sound here (the song was actually released as a single) — it's a glorious mess that is equal parts Cream's ʽAnyone For Tennisʼ, Kinks' ʽWaterloo Sunsetʼ, Bowie's ʽStarmanʼ, and probably several other influences / quotations / inspirations I missed, but fused into something completely different anyway — a spaceship joyride that is actually believable, mainly due to Nelson's perso­nal charisma. Cool guitar, nice voice, right pitch, proper mood.

Other highlights would be ʽJets At Downʼ, a seven-minute epic ballad with another bunch of lilting solos; the honestly amazing, mostly instrumental rocker ʽNo Trains To Heavenʼ, all of it holding together exclusively through Nelson's energy, sweat and blood on the axe; and... well, just about everything else. Take it from me — normally, I would be the first to condemn this sort of record, but sometimes all it takes is an intelligent vocal style and a little demon hiding in one's fingers to turn potential boredom into overall excitement. Axe Victim may not be particularly deep, and it may not show a lot of compositional genius, and it certainly does not break a lot of new ground, but it takes good care of the old one, and it kicks serious ass — something that «rock theater» à la early 1970s does fairly rarely. Thumbs up.

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