1) Pleasure Of Love; 2) On The Line Again; 3) This Is A Foxy World; 4) Bamboo Town; 5) The Man With The 4-Way Hips; 6) Measure Up; 7) Never Took A Penny; 8) Atsababy!.
General verdict: No less charismatic than the first Tom Tom Club album, but the lack of originality and too much humble bubblegummy politeness are sort of killing its chances.
I think that deep down in their hearts, no
matter how much sincere sympathy was generated, everybody believed that the
first Tom Tom Club album would remain a one-time joke — and especially now that
Talking Heads were officially back as a band and burning down the house. This might
explain why the second album, which really tries as hard as possible to stick
to the same formula, got only a small share of respect awarded to the first one
— and why, after all these years, ʽGenius Of Loveʼ remains the only thing anybody
remembers about Tom Tom Club.
In all honesty, Close To The Bone is just a little bit worse than its predecessor:
a bit shorter, a bit less inspired, somewhat less original, and with Alex Weir
replacing Adrian Belew on guitar — not the greatest exchange in the world (and
it did not work out that well for the Heads, either). But I would not describe
it in terms of «sophomore slump», either: the mix of dance grooves, catchy
hooks, and lyrical sarcasm remains satisfactory on the whole. Maybe the band
moves even closer to B-52ʼs territory — which it would not be able to conquer
because of too much shyness and caution (Tina and Chris could never match the stage
and studio wildness of the B-52ʼs) — but the more grotesque elements they
introduce into their music, the more it rises above the average dance-pop of
the era.
They certainly are not being subtle about
trying to follow the success of ʽGenius Of Loveʼ up with ʽPleasure Of Loveʼ. Unlike ʽGeniusʼ, ʽPleasureʼ has no instantly
captivating melodic riff; it is all about the funky groove and the surprisingly
retro atmosphere of the vocals floating above the groove — Tina and the rest of
the Weymouth sisters deliver the lines if not with the power, then certainly
with the exhilarating spirit of old school girl bands like The Shirelles. I
actually like the song more than ʽGenius Of Loveʼ precisely because it is less
flashy and more subtly funny, but it is also clear why it never gained the same
attention. The other single was ʽThe Man With The 4-Way Hipsʼ, a more sharply
defined synth-pop creation with a one-line chorus that runs the risk of quickly
becoming annoying, but is still saved by one of Tinaʼs trademark bad(b)ass
riffs, giving this somewhat generic tale of a master dancer the necessary
sexiness.
Somewhat alarmingly, this is also an album on
which Tina and Chris delve into social issues: ʽThis Is A Foxy Worldʼ is just
another simple dance-pop anthem if you do not listen closely, but if you do, it
is also a surprisingly modern-sounding feminist declaration ("hey boy
whatʼs it gonna be / freedom for the sexes full equality / hey boy what do you
say / equal work gets equal pay"). But the lyrics seem sillier on paper
than they actually sound within the song — precisely because it is all so
hush-hush, with Tinaʼs quiet husky falsetto driving it home surreptitiously
rather than aggressively, so that the whole thing can be taken seriously or
ironically depending on the situation. And when the very next song is ʽBamboo
Townʼ, a moody dance ballad about a boy-loves-girl, girl-loves-boy, "bum
diddly bum" situation, we are comprehensively back in vapor-head territory
anyway, to such an extent where, if you did not properly understand the context,
you might have really mistaken the artists for vapor-headed people.
If anything, the second album gives an even
stronger impression that they are trying to invent IBM (Intelligent Bubblegum
Music) that would be the equivalent of, say, the Ramones in the dance-pop sphere:
a post-New Wave style of danceable music that is nevertheless dependent on
playing dexterity, yet also deconstructs the romantic lyricism and emotional
atmosphere of the music to a bare minimum — like some much needed antidote to
Byrneʼs insufferably paranoid and cryptic style. This is, however, precisely
the problem: all of this Tom Tom Club stuff works much better if you take it in
the context of contemporary Talking Heads albums than if you took it completely
on its own. (Although, given my original break-the-spell reaction to ʽGenius Of
Loveʼ in the context of Stop Making Sense,
I am almost surprised at myself for writing this). At the very least, it helps
to know that the creator of this superficially bubblegummy schlock is the same
person that is responsible for the bass line of ʽPsycho Killerʼ.
Even so, the public was not impressed: neither
the album nor its accompanying singles managed to sell well, and even the
success of ʽBurning Down The Houseʼ never really brushed off on the fate of Close To The Bone — which probably
explains why there would be no follow-up until late 1988, by which time Naked was out and the future existence
of Talking Heads as the same old four-piece unit was put in serious doubt. But
this lack of acceptance, I believe, has more to do with the humbleness and general
lack of flash than with the actual songwriting: after all, the record was
released in the same month as Madonnaʼs debut — feel the difference between
that one and Tom Tom Clubʼs old-fashioned way of courting.
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