One record at a time: 523. Erasure - Always - The Very Best Of Erasure

When you are a fan of music from the eighties, you can grow a little weary of artists endlessly releasing ‘best of’ compilations. Level 42 seem to have clocked up almost twenty different collections, while The Human League and Vangelis appear to have at least a dozen each to their names. In the case of Erasure, the situation is not quite so excessive, but there had already been four best-of compilations before this album arrived in 2015. Originally issued on compact disc and as digital files, it was given a vinyl release in 2023, presumably after someone at BMG spotted an opportunity too obvious to ignore. It comes as a double album and, as one of the few records I own pressed by MPO in France, I am pleased to report that it sounds pretty good. The track listing though, is another story.

"Who Needs Love Like That" was a commercial and critical disappointment when first released as a single, and its inclusion here brings the title of this collection into rather sharp focus. This is not presented as a singles set or a greatest hits package, but as a ‘best of’ or, to give it its full ceremonial flourish, a "Very Best Of". The trouble is that ‘best’ is an entirely subjective idea, and my choices would almost certainly bear little resemblance to anyone else’s. In practice, all compilations, regardless of the title usually end up favouring the most commercial songs, as sales are treated as a convenient substitute for judgement. Yet not everything worth hearing was ever designed to be a hit, which is why I would take the B-side "Push Me Shove Me" over the first track on this record without a moment’s hesitation.

As with the band’s career itself, everything really begins to gather pace with "Sometimes". From there, as the record moves through the classic singles from "The Circus" and "The Innocents", the quality improves markedly and the collection starts to pander to a wider audience.

The high point of the record, for me, is the immaculate trio of "Stop!", "Drama!" and "Blue Savannah" (the flow of which is disturbed by a split across discs), all drawn from that 1988 to 1989 period when both Erasure and pop music seemed to reach a kind of pre-dance zenith. The singles from "Chorus" also bring back strong memories of the early nineties and my days at college, but if we really want to hear the band at their best from this era, we should probably be turning instead to album tracks such as "Joan", "Man in the Moon" and "Turns the Love to Anger".

One of my main gripes with this album is that the "Cowboy" era is ignored completely, leaving wonderful songs such as "Worlds on Fire" and "How Can I Say" out in the cold. Hell, even the singles "In My Arms" and "Don’t Say Your Love Is Killing Me" fail to make the cut. Once the collection reaches the more contemporary material, tracks such as "Be With You" and "Elevation" occasionally reveal a certain lyrical flimsiness when set against their magnum opuses, and you begin to long for the stronger melodies that seemed to come so effortlessly in the late eighties. Still, most of us are not capable of what we once were, so I will not judge Vince and Andy too harshly.

This record does not really cater for those already familiar with the band’s work. It is more of a hits package for the casual observer, though I am not entirely convinced there are vast numbers of casual observers clamouring for a double vinyl compilation. Personally, I would much rather have had something along the lines of the two discs of Vince and Andy’s own favourite selections included in the "From Moscow To Mars" box set. But that would have involved spending money and applying thought, two activities record companies tend to avoid when there is already a shelf full of material waiting to be repackaged for another modest raid on the loyal fan’s wallet. 3/5

One record at a time: 522. Electronic - Get The Message - The Best Of Electronic

The decision to reissue this compilation on vinyl in 2022 made perfect sense. Unfortunately, the people tasked with making it happen made a complete hash of it. Exhibit A is the artwork. The sleeve is so badly pixelated it looks as if the record company pinched the image from the original CD booklet, blew it up, and hoped nobody would notice. It practically howls corner-cutting. Or, if we are being charitable, incompetence. The paper used for the inner sleeves is so flimsy that a stiff breeze could finish it off, and mine look as if they were assembled by someone wearing a blindfold and one oven glove. The records themselves sound OK but they aren’t going to win any awards.

To be honest I am not too enamoured with the track selection on this compilation either. When it first appeared in 2006, I found it underwhelming, and time has not exactly rushed to its defence. Yes, all the singles are here, but so are b-sides and a rather generous helping of tracks from the disappointing "Twisted Tenderness" album. Electronic’s career was a story of diminishing returns. They started in a glorious sweet spot between commercial appeal and artistic freedom, then gradually drifted back into the same frustrated territory they had seemed so keen to escape. For me, any compilation that ventures beyond the singles should lean heavily on the superb debut album and show a little less affection for the later material. That is not just personal preference talking. It is also a fairly plain reflection of how the records connected, or failed to connect, with the wider world.

Pixelated sleeve

Things begin pleasingly enough with "Forbidden City", a wonderful song that found the band at their peak. From there we move through terrific singles such as "Get The Message", "Feel Every Beat" and "Disappointed" before running headlong into a rather baffling choice at the end of the first disc. "All That I Need", the b-side to "For You" from 1996, is a guitar-driven indie rock excursion that does very little for me. It is perfectly competent and does at least contain a melody, which already puts it ahead of some offenders in this genre, but it still hardly qualifies as part of the band’s finest work. 

The second disc opens with "Prodigal Son", which was not a single, although there was a promotional 10” release that somehow transformed a mediocre album track into a small pile of deeply dubious remixes. That still feels like a fairly weak case for rolling out the welcome mat here. Then there is a "New Edit" of "Imitation of Life", which lops more than two minutes off the original b-side for no obvious reason beyond perhaps a general hostility to patience. The song came from the same sessions with Karl Barton that produced material for "Raise the Pressure", yet it did not make that album, which rather raises the question of why it has been dug up for this set. We then stagger to the finish line with a cluster of songs from "Twisted Tenderness" that, title track aside, simply do not land for me. I would much rather be listening to "Idiot Country" or "Try All You Want", because those songs capture the band at their best, whereas this closing stretch feels like the compilation putting its shoes on the wrong feet and insisting everything is absolutely fine. 3/5

One record at a time: 521. Electronic - Twisted Tenderness

When it came out in 1999, I didn’t so much listen to this album as squint at it. "Twisted Tenderness" arrived with all the ceremony of a takeaway menu pushed through the letterbox, and it disappeared about as fast. Gone were the anthemic singles and the "we are a supergroup" swagger of earlier Electronic releases only to be replaced by prickly, half-hearted songs that seemed determined to avoid eye contact. 

Why had a band called Electronic decided to make a guitar-rock record? Where had the tunes gone? And at what point do you ring 999 for the missing synths? As a fan of the band's electronic side, I regarded this approach as a bit of a snub and I wasn’t shocked when the project was quietly shelved after this record. If anything, it felt like the band had already left the party and forgotten to tell the guests.

From what little the band said in the press, I gathered the change in direction was deliberate. "Twisted Tenderness" was a reaction to the drawn-out process of making its predecessor, as if Bernard looked at the studio schedule and thought, "Absolutely not, get me a guitar and a deadline." The whole thing has that vibe of cutting loose and doing something quicker, louder, and more direct.

So if it’s so bad, why did I buy the record when it finally landed on vinyl in 2025? Curiosity, mainly, plus the eternal optimism of anyone who has ever thought, "Maybe this will sound better if it were on vinyl." To be fair, between the shouty vocals and raucous guitars there are a few diamonds in the rough. If you trimmed off four minutes and chucked a proper bassline on opener "Make It Happen", it could have held its head high in the Electronic canon. As it is, it kicks the door in, shouts a bit, and then stands there looking mildly bewildered.

One of the better songs is "Haze", which has the same vibe as the first album, only with the synths turned down as if someone was worried about offending the neighbours. "Vivid" should work too, but I’m not a fan of harmonica, so it lands somewhere between "interesting texture" and "who brought this to the session?" There’s more harmonica on the muddy "Breakdown", because apparently one appearance was not enough. Then there’s a cover of Blind Faith’s "Can’t Find My Way Home". I took so little interest in this album when it came out that I had no idea it was written by Steve Winwood until recently. This much less a revelation and more the sort of pub quiz fact you forget before the next round.

A number of tracks, such as "Prodigal Son" and "Like No Other", have that "band in the room" quality. I’ve no doubt they had a great time recording them, but listening to them is a different sort of commitment. "Late at Night" comes from the same place, only it has enough melody to justify itself, which is more than can be said for some of the surrounding guitar-driven racket.

For my money, all the points on this record go to the amazing title track. There’s a version of this song called the "Guitar/Vocal Mix" that I suspect reflects the original 'rock' recording, but the final album mix is miles better. As soon as the opening synth refrain begins, it feels like a breath of fresh air has blown into the room. When the Roland CR-78 samples crackle into life over the sub-bass, everything finally snaps into place like the band have suddenly remembered who they are. Bernard turns in a wonderful vocal, with lines like "You’ve got me in a mess, you know it’s true / Out in the wilderness here without you" painting a vivid picture of a spurned lover without overdoing it.

Despite my undoubted love for the title track, there are just too many holes in this record for me to enjoy it as a whole. I’ll happily nick "Haze" and "Late at Night" to sit alongside the title track on a playlist, but I doubt I’ll ever listen to the album end to end. It’s disappointing in that very specific way where you keep thinking it’s about to get good, right up until it finishes. 2/5

One record at a time: 520. Electronic - Raise The Pressure

Electronic’s second album arrived in 1996, back when only DJs and unhinged men in anoraks were still buying vinyl. For the last ten years, original pressings of this album have been changing hands for anything between £100 and £200. I wasn’t prepared to lob £200 at a record by an artist I don’t actually collect, only to discover that a Discogs seller’s "near mint" translates to my "good plus, if you squint". So I lived without it on vinyl until this 2025 reissue. On paper, this new pressing ought to have the edge: it’s spread across four sides, which should mean a lower noise floor and a bit more room for the music to breathe. The fact that it is pressed by Optimal Media only adds to its laurels. But as I don’t own the original, I can’t do the smug A/B comparison, sadly.

The album kicks off with the rip-roaring anthem "Forbidden City" which is so infectious that even my Taylor Swift and Dua Lipa obsessed children occasionally request the "wash my hands song" in the car. "For You" is one of those indie-tinged detours Bernard Sumner takes now and again, but this is one I genuinely love. Despite the relatively limited electronic palette, I can’t help being carried along by Johnny Marr’s melodic guitar work and the breezy tune. Somewhere in the loft I’ve got a promotional postcard from when it was released as a single; the blurb says something like the writer could imagine it blasting out of open windows during the summer months. Which is pretty much exactly what happened at Bleeps and Booms Towers thirty years ago.

The first sign of a truly electronic-with-a-small-e track here is "Dark Angel". It’s got some terrific passages, and it’s easy to spot Carl Bartos’s fingerprints when the synths go gloriously haywire halfway through. The Korg T3 piano sits on a Yamaha DX100/27 "Lately Bass", and Denise Johnson adds a cracking vocal. The album’s more guitar-heavy, generally darker production comes to the fore again on "One Day", which plods along like it’s lugging the weekly shop up three flights of stairs. There’s enough melody to keep it afloat though, which is more than can be said for plenty of mid-90s chart fodder.

Then "Until The End Of Time" snaps the mood back to the dancefloor, riding in on Bartos rave hooks and Korg T3 piano riffs. I’m not a fan of the backing vocals, but there’s more than enough aural candy floating around to keep your ears busy and your better judgement quiet in the corner. The TB-303 squeals away as Bernard delivers some of his typically nonsensical lyrics that, somehow, still land. Next up, "Second Nature" has a great verse, but I’m not mad about the chorus. When this was released as a single, Richie Hawtin’s remix did the heavy lifting, giving the track the stronger dance sound it was crying out for. Another Düsseldorf-inspired number follows with "If You’ve Got Love", which even borrows the sampled vocal phonemes scattered across Kraftwerk’s later material and Bartos’s own solo records.

When we drop the needle on the second disc, we return to the slightly more guitar-driven side with "Out of My League", a breezy tune with more than a whiff of The Smiths about it. "Freefall" is a four-on-the-floor number that reminds me of New Order at their peak. The chorus arrives without much ceremony, but I still can’t help tapping my foot along to this one, even if actually getting up and dancing feels a bit ambitious.

"Visit Me" is an odd one, as it feels like it falls between two camps. While it has a breakbeat and some house piano, its pace is pedestrian, though it does feature some beautiful acoustic guitar work from Johnny Marr. Bernard’s vocal sounds completely out of tune to my ears, but the guitar carries things along like a mate patiently steering you away from the karaoke. You don’t need to check the credits to know Carl Bartos was involved with the penultimate track, "How Long", because it’s startlingly obvious. The final track, "Time Can Tell", is laid-back and wistful, with some funky bass guitar from Guy Pratt, but it can’t quite distract from Bernard’s vocal, which doesn’t quite have the muscle for the chorus. 

And so to the packaging. In the sleeve notes, Bernard goes off on a bit of a rant and uses a lot of words without saying very much. I was always puzzled by his closing line about losing the right of silence, but Google suggests he is probably referring to the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act, which curtailed the historic "right to silence" in criminal law. The notes have been described as "jarringly out of step" with the album’s mostly upbeat, dance-oriented guitar pop, and this is also true of the sleeve image, which feels oddly placed. All of this left me confused when I first heard the album. I never thought we would be getting a repeat of the first record, but I did expect something more cohesive than this album turned out to be. I can’t help thinking that, by cutting three tracks and revising the cover, this album would be more impressive. Still a noble effort worthy of attention today. 3.5/5

One record at a time: 519. Electribe 101 - Electribal Selections

By a quirk of fate, we find ourselves moving from one HMV 1921 100th Anniversary release to the only other one in my collection. Electribe 101’s "Electribal Selections" is a specially commissioned compilation of deep cuts (and a few lovingly resurrected oddities) from the band’s "Electribal Memories" era.

Things kick off with the Opium mix of "Talking With Myself", which dates back to 1988 and the track’s first outing as a single. Ostensibly it’s a dub mix, with TB-303 burbling, a few exotic samples, and the mandatory delays. The Pinopella mix of "Heading for the Night" wasn’t released until 2021, when lead singer Billie Ray Martin dusted down the thirty-year-old master tapes and issued six different remixes the record company had refused to put out when they were made. These old Frankie Knuckles remixes have a rough, lo-fi quality and sound as if his tape machine was having a mild wobble, complete with a slightly unsettling pitch drift.

"Diamond Dove" has always been a favourite of mine, and the shelved 7-inch version included here is tougher and more stripped back. I like its drive, but I do miss some of the poppier touches from the album version. The Larry Heard remix of "Tell Me When The Fever Ended", closing out side one, has a tremendous bassline and the electric piano sits beautifully. However, ever since I first heard this mix back in 1990, the snare has always struck me as a bit too prominent, like it’s wandered in from a different tune and decided to make itself comfortable.

Side two carries one of my favourite Electribe 101 remixes, the Corporate Def Mix of the single "You’re Walking". David Morales lets sly TR-909 hi-hats tick away under Billie’s soulful vocal, while the incessant bassline propels everything along with the single-minded determination of someone late for the last train. Next up is another shelved 7-inch version of an album track, "Lipstick on My Lover". Chopping two minutes off it doesn’t really do it any favours and, as a deep house track with minimal concessions to pop, it was never likely to get radio play anyway. Still, its inclusion is a nice nod for completists (and the rest of us who like owning alternate versions we’ll insist are essential).

Proceedings wrap up with the strangely titled Lambada version of "Talking With Myself". An edited version of this track appeared on the band’s debut album (as “Talking 2”), so I’m not entirely sure why it’s included here, beyond the gentle thrill of repetition for collectors and record labels alike.

As a GZ Media coloured vinyl pressing, this record comes with plenty of extra crackle courtesy of dust and debris, and cleaning only improves matters slightly. There’s deep bass, but the overall sound isn’t the best. As with many pressings from the Czech Republic, the inner sleeve is about four microns thick, so the vinyl cuts through it like a hot knife through butter. I like this record, but it’s probably only for the initiated (or the stubborn, which is much the same thing). 3.5/5

One record at a time: 518. 808 State - 90

808 State were different from many of the acts feeding the late-eighties rave scene because they wanted, and were able, to think beyond the 12-inch single. When "90" landed in 1989, acid house was spilling out of warehouses and illegal raves and into nightclubs and the charts. Rather than stopping at club-ready singles, 808 State pushed further and started building albums that were driven by ambition and backed up by the kind of studio craft many of their contemporaries simply did not have.

This album can still function as a tool for DJs, but it also works as a headphone record or a living-room "what is this?" conversion kit. The music is so good you don’t need to be loved up to enjoy it. The key is the production: even when they lean on the same samples and hardware as their contemporaries, 808 State retain a unique and distinctive sound.

The headline here, of course, is "Pacific 202" (a remix of the earlier "Pacific State"), the track that helped make dance music both credible and commercial. It received heavy radio play and brought the wider public round to the possibilities of dance music. 

"Magical Dream" is a soft-focus opener: chiming synths, a rolling groove, and just enough vocal presence to frame the album as pop-adjacent without turning it into songs. The Roland R8 drum programming on "Cobra Bora" could only be 808 State with double-hit hats, unhinged cowbells, and a sense of precision with a grin. The ravey brass stabs and rumbling TB-303 that drive it along are spot-on. 

"Donkey Doctor" may be a terrible title, but the track isn’t: busier and weirder in the best way, it’s where you hear the group’s love of studio play and abrupt left turns. "808080808" is a harder, leaner stomp that hints at the tougher techno future without losing the record’s slightly psychedelic glow. The comedown chapter comes with "Sunrise": long-form, patient, and genuinely pretty. In the same vein as songs like "Sun Rising" by The Beloved, this is less "rave banger" and more early-morning perspective.

"90" is a cornerstone record, not because it’s the loudest or fastest, but because it’s confident enough to leave space. If you like electronic music that’s physical and detailed, this is essential. My copy is the vivid pink LP, released in 2022 as part of the HMV 1921 Centenary Edition series. It sounds surprisingly good for a GZ pressing as their records are usually dirtier than a urinal cake. Still: highly recommended. 4/5.

One record at a time: 517. Thomas Dolby - Astronauts & Heretics

This is the last Thomas Dolby album I needed on vinyl to complete the Music On Vinyl 2024 reissue set. This is numbered, gold-coloured 180g limited edition, also known as "the one I paid more than I care to admit for" after missing it the first time, only to watch it get reissued again in a different colour. Collector logic is a beautiful thing.

Released in 1992 this was Dolby’s last studio album until 2011, which gives an idea of the impact it had on his career. Having not learnt his lesson with his preceding album, Dolby chooses to change direction again by swapping electronic funk for louche, Louisiana-leaning stomps and soft rock. If you came here expecting wall-to-wall synth-pop bangers, you may feel like you’ve ordered a burger and been handed a salad.

The opener, "I Love You Goodbye", immediately announces that this is the album where Thomas Dolby calmly indicates, checks his mirrors, and then drives straight off the road. It’s jaunty, odd, and just familiar enough to make you think you recognise the tune, right up until you realise you’re driving across a field. 

I once had a music teacher who said that if you're writing a good song it will usually remind you of something else. "Silk Pyjamas" proves the inverse: you can also write a bad song that reminds you of something else. Only in this case you can’t quite remember what it reminds you of, and you’re not sure you want to. Not to my taste at all.

The single "Close But No Cigar" shows flashes of Dolby’s cleverness, but it is dressed in entirely the wrong clothes. The guest appearance by Eddie Van Halen on guitar only underlines how far the apple has fallen from the tree. For my money the best track is "That’s Why People Fall in Love", which comes closest to the traditional, scientifically minded synth-pop boffin persona Dolby was known for, though it’s very much an anomaly on the record. The closer "Beauty of a Dream" feels cinematic and reflective, but turns out to be one of those dreams that never really resolves in a satisfying manner.

To some extent "Astronauts & Heretics" is Dolby doing what he does: refusing to sit still. Yet the instrumentation on this album is impressively safe. So safe it practically comes with handrails. Many of us were drawn to Dolby for his wonderfully strange, inventive use of synthesisers and electronics, not because we were craving the sonic thrill of "competent drums" and guitarists with poodle perms. This record is the sound of someone casually flushing away their own USP and then shrugging as their career disappears. As an adventure it may be fulfilling to the artist, but not to the record buying public. This record is not for me, but I can respect the swing. 1.5/5