Author: Richard Cosgrove
"The original line up of Duran Duran is to reform."
When I read this sentence a year or so ago my heart simultaneously lifted and sank, producing a moment of brief nausea, and then feelings of great excitement and abject terror as the implications of this sank in.
On the plus side, I'd finally be able to see the original line-up of a band that had been a huge influence on my musical upbringing, having been 13 years old when Rio came out and harbouring a secret love of the band through the years where it was OK for your sister to like them but if you were a boy and were into them then you got funny looks.
It was the negative side I was worried about, though. Up to now I could hold up the three classic line-up Duran albums (Duran Duran, Rio and Seven And The Ragged Tiger) as prime examples of timeless 80s pop, safe in the knowledge that despite their steady slide into mediocrity, 1994's Wedding Album aside, which was a brief return to form, Duran would never be as good as they were when it was the original five members. The problem with bands reforming is that they (or rather the record company) feel the need to put out a new album, which invariably results in a product that is a pale shadow of their former output. Think Jane's Addiction's Strays, or The Stone Roses' Second Coming, or even (if you must) KISS's Psycho Circus.
So after having heard three of the tracks off this new album live earlier in the year (and completely forgetting what two of them had sounded like, which didn't bode well), it was with some trepidation that I sat down to listen to Astronaut, particularly after the savaging that it had been given in the music press. While not as bad as I'd feared, it unfortunately falls into the category that so many albums do, that of "play the first four tracks then move on". Had Astronaut been a four track EP, consisting of the first four tracks, I'd have been very pleased indeed at Duran's comeback. As it happens, at 12 tracks long, it's a bit of a trek actually getting through to the end without backtracking to those first four tracks.
However, as your guide through Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, Le Bon and Rhodes's comeback effort, I managed it, so here's a track by track breakdown.
(Reach Up For The) Sunrise is a classic Duran pop song, and the track they opened the show with when I saw them at Wembley in April. Nothing about it (or indeed any of the tracks on Astronaut) rivals their finest hours 20 years ago, but a decent effort regardless.
Want You More! is an uptempo romp that combines the funky legacy of the Notorious era Duran, fused with the in-your-face power chord swagger of The Power Station, and sounds like a track that could have been recorded by the original line-up in 1986 rather than 18 years later.
What Happens Tomorrow creeps out of the speakers with a gently chugging guitar that is reminiscent of 'Til Tuesday's Voices Carry (Aimee Mann's band prior to her solo career), and is infused with orchestration reminiscent of Come Undone. A third single if ever there was one.
The title track, Astronaut, is a glorious slice of by-the-numbers Duran pop, washed over with a hint of reggae, and with an unintentional nod to the Sugababe's Hole In The Head. This one has single, and hit single at that, written all over it.
Bedroom Toys is essentially a reworking of Notorious, giving John Taylor an excuse to play some funky Nile Rogers-esque bass, and contains the best Le Bon lyric to date - "I've seen a lot of things to make your chicken curl". OK, Simon, whatever you say.
Nice is, well, nice. The kind of song that you can just nip into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and not really miss having been out of earshot of the album for three minutes. Nice, nothing more, nothing less.
Taste The Summer sounds exactly like you'd expect a song called Taste The Summer to sound. It's essentially a laid back funky bass workout, with phoned-in contributions from Andy Taylor and Nick Rhodes, and another track that wouldn't be missed if it didn't make it onto the iPod.
Finest Hour is the first of two nods to Arcadia, a gentle song that washes over you and would be perfect for a Sunday morning compilation.
Chains is the other Arcadia influenced tune, and opens with a signature John Taylor bassline and some lovely jingly-jangly guitar. Another gentle song that would sit nicely alongside Finest Hour on that Sunday morning compilation.
One Of These Days arrives with great promise, but after the first thirty seconds or so, descends into blandness, unfortunately setting the tone for the remainder of the album, with the final three tracks being virtually indistinguishable from each other.
Point Of No Return, will only add ammunition to those who think this album is the Return Of No Point, and goes nowhere. For five minutes.
Still Breathing is the album's longest track, clocking in at just over six minutes, and I suspect is intended to close the album with a moody, dreamy tone. It doesn't. Instead it's the musical equivalent of watching an album having it's life support system tuned off and drifting into oblivion.
So, there we have it, and while it was worth the wait for the first four tracks, it'll still be the first three classic line-up albums that'll be in my CD player.
"The original line up of Duran Duran is to reform."
When I read this sentence a year or so ago my heart simultaneously lifted and sank, producing a moment of brief nausea, and then feelings of great excitement and abject terror as the implications of this sank in.
On the plus side, I'd finally be able to see the original line-up of a band that had been a huge influence on my musical upbringing, having been 13 years old when Rio came out and harbouring a secret love of the band through the years where it was OK for your sister to like them but if you were a boy and were into them then you got funny looks.
It was the negative side I was worried about, though. Up to now I could hold up the three classic line-up Duran albums (Duran Duran, Rio and Seven And The Ragged Tiger) as prime examples of timeless 80s pop, safe in the knowledge that despite their steady slide into mediocrity, 1994's Wedding Album aside, which was a brief return to form, Duran would never be as good as they were when it was the original five members. The problem with bands reforming is that they (or rather the record company) feel the need to put out a new album, which invariably results in a product that is a pale shadow of their former output. Think Jane's Addiction's Strays, or The Stone Roses' Second Coming, or even (if you must) KISS's Psycho Circus.
So after having heard three of the tracks off this new album live earlier in the year (and completely forgetting what two of them had sounded like, which didn't bode well), it was with some trepidation that I sat down to listen to Astronaut, particularly after the savaging that it had been given in the music press. While not as bad as I'd feared, it unfortunately falls into the category that so many albums do, that of "play the first four tracks then move on". Had Astronaut been a four track EP, consisting of the first four tracks, I'd have been very pleased indeed at Duran's comeback. As it happens, at 12 tracks long, it's a bit of a trek actually getting through to the end without backtracking to those first four tracks.
However, as your guide through Taylor, Taylor, Taylor, Le Bon and Rhodes's comeback effort, I managed it, so here's a track by track breakdown.
(Reach Up For The) Sunrise is a classic Duran pop song, and the track they opened the show with when I saw them at Wembley in April. Nothing about it (or indeed any of the tracks on Astronaut) rivals their finest hours 20 years ago, but a decent effort regardless.
Want You More! is an uptempo romp that combines the funky legacy of the Notorious era Duran, fused with the in-your-face power chord swagger of The Power Station, and sounds like a track that could have been recorded by the original line-up in 1986 rather than 18 years later.
What Happens Tomorrow creeps out of the speakers with a gently chugging guitar that is reminiscent of 'Til Tuesday's Voices Carry (Aimee Mann's band prior to her solo career), and is infused with orchestration reminiscent of Come Undone. A third single if ever there was one.
The title track, Astronaut, is a glorious slice of by-the-numbers Duran pop, washed over with a hint of reggae, and with an unintentional nod to the Sugababe's Hole In The Head. This one has single, and hit single at that, written all over it.
Bedroom Toys is essentially a reworking of Notorious, giving John Taylor an excuse to play some funky Nile Rogers-esque bass, and contains the best Le Bon lyric to date - "I've seen a lot of things to make your chicken curl". OK, Simon, whatever you say.
Nice is, well, nice. The kind of song that you can just nip into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and not really miss having been out of earshot of the album for three minutes. Nice, nothing more, nothing less.
Taste The Summer sounds exactly like you'd expect a song called Taste The Summer to sound. It's essentially a laid back funky bass workout, with phoned-in contributions from Andy Taylor and Nick Rhodes, and another track that wouldn't be missed if it didn't make it onto the iPod.
Finest Hour is the first of two nods to Arcadia, a gentle song that washes over you and would be perfect for a Sunday morning compilation.
Chains is the other Arcadia influenced tune, and opens with a signature John Taylor bassline and some lovely jingly-jangly guitar. Another gentle song that would sit nicely alongside Finest Hour on that Sunday morning compilation.
One Of These Days arrives with great promise, but after the first thirty seconds or so, descends into blandness, unfortunately setting the tone for the remainder of the album, with the final three tracks being virtually indistinguishable from each other.
Point Of No Return, will only add ammunition to those who think this album is the Return Of No Point, and goes nowhere. For five minutes.
Still Breathing is the album's longest track, clocking in at just over six minutes, and I suspect is intended to close the album with a moody, dreamy tone. It doesn't. Instead it's the musical equivalent of watching an album having it's life support system tuned off and drifting into oblivion.
So, there we have it, and while it was worth the wait for the first four tracks, it'll still be the first three classic line-up albums that'll be in my CD player.
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