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The funny thing about the most classic albums is that they very often turn out to be by the most unlikely of bands. Take The Lexicon Of Love for example. Who would have thought that one of the most perfect pop albums of the 80s, and in fact beyond, would have come from a Sheffield quintet whose lead singer had a Bryan Ferry fixation, used to edit a fanzine called Modern Drugs and was partial to wearing gold lame suits?
That's exactly what the Yorkshire synth pioneers ABC did though, enlisting the talents of a pre-ZTT Records Trevor Horn, whose only claim to fame at this point was having been one half of The Buggles (whose one and only hit Video Killed The Radio went to number one in the charts) and having briefly thrown his lot in with prog rockers Yes. This was a collaboration that was to make both of their careers.
Preceded by three hit singles, Tears Are Not Enough, Poison Arrow and The Look Of Love, the album was released in June 1982 and crashed into the charts at number one, eventually hanging around for some fifty weeks. For a band that just nine months earlier were virtually unknown outside of their native Sheffield, this was quite an achievement, and one that wouldn't be repeated with subsequent releases. However, with an album as strong as Lexicon, and a pop legacy that endures to this day I don't suppose they're too upset. Duran Duran may have been the MTV darlings of the 80s, but very few albums still sound as fresh and relevant today as Lexicon, so let's take a closer look.
From the outset this album wears its' heart on its' sleeve, opening with a gradually building orchestral fanfare that gives way to the power funk of Show Me, giving us our first taste of bassist Mark Lickley's smooth, hypnotic style, and laying the foundation for much of the album. Understated, yet such a vital part of the ABC sound, this is a masterclass in how the bass can lift a song by being omnipresent yet never actually in your face. Pure genius. Show Me shows us exactly where this album is going, all big choruses, plinky-plonky synths and Martin Fry's cynical and incisive observations on love and relationships. Happy music, but very bitter lyrics and what a potent combination it is.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in Poison Arrow. "Shoot that poison arrow through my heart" - ouch! This was the song that catapulted ABC into the public's consciousness, with a sing-a-long chorus that just wouldn't leave your head and a bassline so funky that you couldn't help but tap your foot. The real genius of this song, though, is the breakdown in the middle that takes us from this fluffy pop song into a discordant middle eight with Martin revealing to his girl "I thought you loved me, but it seems you don't care" to which she replies "I care enough to know I can never love you" - again, ouch! You feel for the guy, you really do.
Many Happy Returns continues the albums cinematic soundscape, the opening sounding like the intro to some cheesy 80s soap opera, which in many ways it was. More busy bass work drives along a clever lyric from Fry which somehow manages to rhyme "axis" with "fascist" and get away with it. Towards the end of this track, Fry really lets rip and you can hear the venom in his voice, and the evidence that he really could sing.
First single Tears Are Not Enough follows, sounding musically like an outtake from a James Brown album, but with Fry's falsetto getting its' first airing on the album. The production on this track (particularly on the remastered version) is superb, with each instrument occupying its' own little space, distinctly separate, but meshing together as a whole beautifully.
By the time we get to Valentine's Day, it's becoming obvious that ABC have found a formula and are sticking to it. However, far from being a problem, this gives the album a wonderful sense of continuity. Whereas on some albums the change from one song to the next can be quite jarring, here it is a smooth as Fry's voice, taking us by the hand and leading us through their funky-dancey tales of heartbreak and cynicism. The song builds to a bitter crescendo that rounds off what was back in 1982 the end of the first side of the album.
Side two (as was) kicks of with The Look Of Love (Part One), the second of three songs that will be forever
associated with 1982s pop sounds. If Motown had been invented in the 80s rather than the 60s, this is what it would sound like. In fact Fry went on to honour his obvious influence on this album a few years later with the superb When Smokey Sings, and you can imagine Mr Robinson crooning this track. The spoken bit in the middle also breaks the audio equivalent of cinema's fourth wall, with Fry referencing himself. Effective stuff.
Date Stamp is up next, with its' ringing cash registers faintly reminiscent of Pink Floyd's Money. This is a classy bass-driven song with Fry trading lines with a breathy, dreamy female singer, again giving us the happy upbeat tune with a cynical "love has no guarantee" message.
This brings us to the album's jewel in its' crown. All Of My Heart is quite possibly the best ballad ever written, giving us heartfelt lyrics sung with an emotion-filled voice, while managing to remain firmly on the right side of cheesy and trite. Strings accompany Fry's woeful tale of a friendship ruined by romance. This is the song that those of a certain age will always remember as the soundtrack to those school disco last dances where you could never quite get up the courage to ask that girl that you fancied to dance. Duran's Save A Prayer may be the best remembered ballad of the early 80s, but All Of My Heart was shot through with ten times the passion, ten times the heartache and ten times the regret. A Classic. Period.
Just as we're getting all dewey eyed, 4 Ever 2 Gether crashes out of the speakers with the album's conclusion that it might just be possible to find that romance that Fry has spent the rest of the album decrying, but you wouldn't bet your shirt on it. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst seems to be the order of the day as the song fades and we get a brief orchestral reprise of The Look Of Love to round off the album.
So, the Lexicon of Love - triple word score or rack full of vowels? Definitely the former, and one of the finest examples of a pop album that you're ever likely to come across. The fact that it regularly crops up in the myriad of "Top 100" album lists is testament to its' staying power. This is an album that deserves to be in your collection..
That's exactly what the Yorkshire synth pioneers ABC did though, enlisting the talents of a pre-ZTT Records Trevor Horn, whose only claim to fame at this point was having been one half of The Buggles (whose one and only hit Video Killed The Radio went to number one in the charts) and having briefly thrown his lot in with prog rockers Yes. This was a collaboration that was to make both of their careers.
Preceded by three hit singles, Tears Are Not Enough, Poison Arrow and The Look Of Love, the album was released in June 1982 and crashed into the charts at number one, eventually hanging around for some fifty weeks. For a band that just nine months earlier were virtually unknown outside of their native Sheffield, this was quite an achievement, and one that wouldn't be repeated with subsequent releases. However, with an album as strong as Lexicon, and a pop legacy that endures to this day I don't suppose they're too upset. Duran Duran may have been the MTV darlings of the 80s, but very few albums still sound as fresh and relevant today as Lexicon, so let's take a closer look.
From the outset this album wears its' heart on its' sleeve, opening with a gradually building orchestral fanfare that gives way to the power funk of Show Me, giving us our first taste of bassist Mark Lickley's smooth, hypnotic style, and laying the foundation for much of the album. Understated, yet such a vital part of the ABC sound, this is a masterclass in how the bass can lift a song by being omnipresent yet never actually in your face. Pure genius. Show Me shows us exactly where this album is going, all big choruses, plinky-plonky synths and Martin Fry's cynical and incisive observations on love and relationships. Happy music, but very bitter lyrics and what a potent combination it is.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in Poison Arrow. "Shoot that poison arrow through my heart" - ouch! This was the song that catapulted ABC into the public's consciousness, with a sing-a-long chorus that just wouldn't leave your head and a bassline so funky that you couldn't help but tap your foot. The real genius of this song, though, is the breakdown in the middle that takes us from this fluffy pop song into a discordant middle eight with Martin revealing to his girl "I thought you loved me, but it seems you don't care" to which she replies "I care enough to know I can never love you" - again, ouch! You feel for the guy, you really do.
Many Happy Returns continues the albums cinematic soundscape, the opening sounding like the intro to some cheesy 80s soap opera, which in many ways it was. More busy bass work drives along a clever lyric from Fry which somehow manages to rhyme "axis" with "fascist" and get away with it. Towards the end of this track, Fry really lets rip and you can hear the venom in his voice, and the evidence that he really could sing.
First single Tears Are Not Enough follows, sounding musically like an outtake from a James Brown album, but with Fry's falsetto getting its' first airing on the album. The production on this track (particularly on the remastered version) is superb, with each instrument occupying its' own little space, distinctly separate, but meshing together as a whole beautifully.
By the time we get to Valentine's Day, it's becoming obvious that ABC have found a formula and are sticking to it. However, far from being a problem, this gives the album a wonderful sense of continuity. Whereas on some albums the change from one song to the next can be quite jarring, here it is a smooth as Fry's voice, taking us by the hand and leading us through their funky-dancey tales of heartbreak and cynicism. The song builds to a bitter crescendo that rounds off what was back in 1982 the end of the first side of the album.
Side two (as was) kicks of with The Look Of Love (Part One), the second of three songs that will be forever
associated with 1982s pop sounds. If Motown had been invented in the 80s rather than the 60s, this is what it would sound like. In fact Fry went on to honour his obvious influence on this album a few years later with the superb When Smokey Sings, and you can imagine Mr Robinson crooning this track. The spoken bit in the middle also breaks the audio equivalent of cinema's fourth wall, with Fry referencing himself. Effective stuff.
Date Stamp is up next, with its' ringing cash registers faintly reminiscent of Pink Floyd's Money. This is a classy bass-driven song with Fry trading lines with a breathy, dreamy female singer, again giving us the happy upbeat tune with a cynical "love has no guarantee" message.
This brings us to the album's jewel in its' crown. All Of My Heart is quite possibly the best ballad ever written, giving us heartfelt lyrics sung with an emotion-filled voice, while managing to remain firmly on the right side of cheesy and trite. Strings accompany Fry's woeful tale of a friendship ruined by romance. This is the song that those of a certain age will always remember as the soundtrack to those school disco last dances where you could never quite get up the courage to ask that girl that you fancied to dance. Duran's Save A Prayer may be the best remembered ballad of the early 80s, but All Of My Heart was shot through with ten times the passion, ten times the heartache and ten times the regret. A Classic. Period.
Just as we're getting all dewey eyed, 4 Ever 2 Gether crashes out of the speakers with the album's conclusion that it might just be possible to find that romance that Fry has spent the rest of the album decrying, but you wouldn't bet your shirt on it. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst seems to be the order of the day as the song fades and we get a brief orchestral reprise of The Look Of Love to round off the album.
So, the Lexicon of Love - triple word score or rack full of vowels? Definitely the former, and one of the finest examples of a pop album that you're ever likely to come across. The fact that it regularly crops up in the myriad of "Top 100" album lists is testament to its' staying power. This is an album that deserves to be in your collection..
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