From what I have read, there was some expectation that "Islands" would sell rather well when it was released in 1987. As a prelude to this anticipated success, the title track was released as a single. Unexpectedly, it sank without trace.
Given Mike's track record, I can see why Virgin Records might have felt confident. Yet, as we have seen with other artists, they simply failed to read the bellwether.
By the time "Islands" appeared, almost 15 years after Mike's debut, his core audience was clearly getting older. Many had probably reached that grim stage of life where music had become an investment of time and money they could ill afford. People drift away from music as life becomes more complicated, and this lead single was hardly likely to drag them back by the lapels.
As for new listeners, this record arrived during a clear generational shift. The charts were filling up with Stock, Aitken and Waterman productions, while artists such as Steve 'Silk' Hurley and MARRS were signalling the arrival of dance music as a commercial force. This new pop audience was never, ever, going to buy a ponderous ballad sung by someone as 'uncool' as Bonnie Tyler. I know, because I was part of that generation. So "Islands" was doomed: it wasn't going to find a new audience and the old one had better things to do.
If we put the god-awful title track to one side, there are some highlights to be found on this record. Side one is occupied by "Wind Chimes" Part 1 and Part 2, which contain flashes of real genius among their many phases and ideas. To some extent, "Part 2" is a big tease, playing with a few of the motifs from "Tubular Bells" in a way that suggests the much-anticipated "Tubular Bells II" was within reach. This must have pleased and frustrated Richard Branson in equal measure.
The b-side of the record contains five pop songs featuring various singers. Anita Hegerland's vocals are a pretty close match for Maggie Reilly's, apart from the strange pronunciation of certain words such as "north", which is rather off-putting. Kevin Ayers' larynx is stretched to breaking point, and then a little further, by the verses of the otherwise catchy "Flying Start", while the faux heavy rock of "Magic Touch" is a car crash in denim and poodle hair. This is a strange album: one side I enjoy, and another I really do not. 2/5
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