The Album Review Club - Week #147 - (page 1942) - Blonde On Blonde - Bob Dylan

I didn't have a clue what the Netflix still was. Seems most other people know - what am I missing out on?
 
ABC - Lexicon Of Love

For my choice this time out we are travelling back to the weird and wonderful times that were 1982. A year dominated by a trip to the Falklands, the IRA blowing stuff up, a strange number of aircraft crashes, Villa winning the European Cup, an old ship being raised and for our American cousins the Lakers winning the NBA Finals. Whatever that is.
It was a heady year indeed but looking back one of my biggest memories was of a gold shiny suit majestically posing it's way through an episode of Top Of The Pops. It was elegant. It was suave. It looked the epitome of cool. Attached to said suit was a man who looked the part. Effortlessly preening his way around the stage with foppish hair miming to something a little different. It had strings, it had a groovy bass line. It had a quiet piano bit. It had some rather good lyrics. It demanded a trip to the local record shop.

As with most albums I bought around this time I took it to my mate Matthew's house. His parents were rich. They had a music room. With sofas. His Mum kept up the supply of orange squash and biscuits regularly. And best of all they had a stonkingly big stereo which we could play at whatever volume we liked. Along with Martin and Charlie, the original fab four, we would get comfy, try not to stare at Matthews Mum's cleavage when she popped in, and play an album in it's entirety. Whilst making what we thought were pithy and intelligent comments. We didn't always agree, which was a good thing, I remember a great argument about Upstairs At Eric's by Yazoo which end with me farting on Charlies head and the ensuing big bundle. I was right though, it was an album half full of fillers and half full of great songs.
We all agreed on Lexicon Of Love. It was an astounding debut record, from it's orchestral start and finish to it's amazing production, thank you Mr Trevor Horn, the whole album had us captivated. And the lyrics...oh the lyrics, they spoke to us. Especially me with my complete lack of dedication to girlfriends. Kiss a girl at the local youth club/ park/ school toilets, go "out" with her and then get dumped a week later as I preferred playing football and mucking about with the fab four. I could never work out why though as I did fall in love very easily. Or what I thought was love. The conversation usually had the same theme...did you kiss xxx at the youth club last night? Yup. She'll dump you by the weekend. Oh...who's turn in goal?

Looking back now not a lot has changed, I still think this album is a fantastic offering and one I listen to at least once a month, the lyrics are probably amongst the best of the era, especially on "All Of My Heart", and the production is as lush as ever. I have given up farting on mates heads though. Which can only be a good thing.


Original album rules apply although I suspect spotify will offer up deluxe or digitally remastered versions if fucking about with the original is your bag.



Enjoy!
 
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