One record at a time: 558. Propaganda - A Secret Wish

Back in the eighties, when I was young, television did not seem especially troubled by an excess of sport. Therefore a programme I naturally gravitated towards was the BBC’s coverage of the annual Lombard RAC Rally, then the United Kingdom’s premier international motor rally. The cars were exciting, of course, but a particular highlight for me was the theme music used for the highlights programmes. I loved it so much that I recorded it by holding a cassette recorder next to the television speaker, a sophisticated audio capture technique chiefly distinguished by its inclusion of every noise in the room. I would play the tape back and marvel at the music. As I was not an avid student of the charts, I had no idea that it was a record by an actual artist, I just thought it was the theme music to the programme. 

When I finally gained unfettered access to the internet in the late nineties, I used the search engines of the day, including Lycos and Ask Jeeves, to identify music I loved but could not name. Eventually I discovered that the music used on the rally coverage of the eighties was in fact “Duel” by Propaganda. This being the period it was, I downloaded it from Napster immediately. Respectability followed: I bought its parent album, “A Secret Wish” on compact disc a few years later, and this reissued 180g LP joined my collection in 2018. It then disappeared into the shelves and escaped my first trawl through the collection, which is either a comment on my filing system or proof that records can hide when sufficiently motivated. According to Amazon, I paid only £11.87 for it, so at least my administrative shortcomings came as a bargain.

The album is now regarded as a classic, with era-defining production from Stephen Lipson. Opener “Dream Within a Dream” drifts in on bass guitar and PPG Waveterm textures while Susanne Freytag recites Edgar Allan Poe’s 1849 poem “A Dream Within a Dream”. A recurring trumpet refrain is interrupted by drums, synthesiser solos and flashes of guitar. The result is an eight-minute subversion of conventional eighties synthpop, the sort of opening track that politely informs the inquisitive pop fan that the album has no intention of behaving itself.

The sampled slap bass of “The Murder of Love” could hardly sound more eighties if it arrived wearing shoulder pads and carrying a Filofax. As Claudia Brücken sings of being strangled by charm, resistance to the groove is futile. Much as I love “Duel”, I am less taken with its aggressive, brutal counterpart, “Jewel”. For me, the majesty of “Duel” lies in the counterpoint between the buoyant PPG Waveterm bass and the Roland Jupiter-8 chords, not rocking guitars. 

The second side opens with another single, “P:Machinery”, a suitably imposing piece shaped by contributions from figures as varied as David Sylvian of Japan, Glenn Gregory of Heaven 17 and Derek Forbes of Simple Minds. It was not a spectacular chart success, but it has become an undeniable cult classic and deserves the retrospective praise now routinely bestowed upon it. History may have been late, but at least it eventually turned up.

I am less enamoured of “Sorry for Laughing”, although I suspect the muddy production is more at fault than the songwriting. There is probably a sharper song buried in there somewhere, wearing a headlamp and waiting to be rescued.

“Dr Mabuse” is something of an outlier, drawing on two sources not encountered much elsewhere on the album: Trevor Horn and the Fairlight CMI. I think the version included here is the “First Life” mix, but I am not venturing into the differences between the various mixes and running times. The bewildering number of versions makes advanced mathematics look like a relaxing alternative. What matters is that I like the track, particularly the Fairlight samples that were shared with recordings by The Art of Noise.

“The Chase” is more relaxed and melodious, but it retains that immaculate eighties production sheen and the wonderful sounds created by synth wizard and programmer Andy Richards. The album ends with two separately listed tracks that function as a single joined piece. “The Last Word” is an instrumental remix of “Dr Mabuse”, while the internet informs me that a thunderclap and the sound of rain announce the beginning of “Strength to Dream”. Together they form an instrumental coda filled with brooding textures and majestic strings, ending the record not so much with a tidy full stop as with an ominous bank of weather rolling in.

It may be illegal in certain synthpop circles to speak disparagingly of “A Secret Wish”, so perhaps a favourable verdict is compulsory. Fortunately, it is also deserved. This is unquestionably a classic of the genre, made with wit, ambition and immaculate production. It was a critical triumph, although retrospective accounts can make it sound as if everybody bought a copy on release and immediately recognised its genius. I certainly did not. I had never heard of Propaganda until 1999, when I finally identified the theme from the BBC rally coverage, and I did not buy the album until 2006. I may have arrived late, but at least I got there before the vinyl vanished into my own shelves. 4/5

One record at a time: 468. xPropaganda - The Heart is Strange

xPropaganda is a collaboration between vocalists Susanne Freytag and Claudia Brücken along with producer Stephen Lipson. All three had previously been involved in the creation of the seminal Propaganda album "A Secret Wish" and there's no doubt this record is an attempt to distil some of that classic sound (Universal even went as far as resurrecting the ZTT imprint to hammer the point home). The result is that whilst Ralf Dörper and Michael Mertens continue to record as Propaganda, only their former collaborators actually sound like the Propaganda.

This limited edition red vinyl came with a free art print and was released in 2022. The sound reproduction is on the good side of middling - but the packaging and graphic design is of the highest order. 

The first track "The Night" immediately brings back those "A Secret Wish" vibes with its rumbling synth bass and mute trumpet improvisations. Whilst there are no crunchy Fairlight samples or Trevor Horn 'gags' in the music, it still carries a very distinctive flavour. These unique qualities are in no small part due to the vocals of Susanne and Claudia, but Stephen Lipson has also manages to create a sonic palette that is both contemporary and consistent with Propaganda's eighties vibe.

I enjoy every track on this record, though a few stand out as personal favourites. One such highlight is "Beauty Is Truth," where Claudia and Susanne trade call-and-response vocals over a pulsating electronic backdrop. The groove rolls forward with effortless momentum, knowing it doesn't have to work that hard to impress you. 

The flip side opens with "Don't (You Mess With Me)" where the synths burble and groan as Claudia makes it clear she not a woman to be trifled with. I love the bilingual nature of the vocals and there's no doubt this track deserved to be a single. Another favourite track is "The Wolves Are Returning" which has a fantastic sub-bass, but the saxophone solo does detract from it quite a bit.

I regard this as one of the best albums from 2022 and I still listen to it regularly. There's no doubt there is a special chemistry at play when Stephen Lipson works with Claudia and Susanne and this album captures that magic nicely. That's not to say this album ends up sounding like "A Secret Wish Part 2" as it stands on its own two feet. This is great electronic pop. 4/5

Radio daze

Until the advent of DAB, the most frustrating aspect of listening to the radio for me is was not knowing what is actually playing. Often DJ’s will not tell you either the artists or the song they have just played. For many, many years I yearned to own a few songs which I had only ever heard on the radio but had no idea of who created them. I drove me to distraction at times. Songs that I heard, loved and never owned in the pre internet or DAB era were:

Propaganda ‘Duel’ 

An instrumental section of this song was used as the music for TV coverage of the British Rally for many years on BBC television and I heard it on the radio a few times in my youth. Remembering only a few of the lyrics made the track impossible to pin down. Yet I loved it. One of my primary goals when I first became plugged into the web was to find this song.  

Eric Clapton ‘Behind the mask’ 

This one came as a surprise when I finally found out who was singing ‘Who do you love? Is it me babe?’ It was an even bigger surprise to find it was a superior cover version of a song by the Japanese synth pioneers Yellow Magic Orchestra.

Deee-Lite ‘What is Love?’ 

When I heard this track on the radio, I was immediately struck by its obvious Kraftwerk influence. Yet I had no idea who the track was by for a few years (in retrospect the lyric ‘How do you say Deee-Lite?’ should have told me really). This track was a double A side with ‘Groove is in the Heart’ in the UK but was ignored by almost everyone.

Wax ‘Building a bridge to your heart’ 

I actually knew who recorded this track but was unable to get hold of it until the internet came along. In my youth I had a cassette with a recording of this song from the radio; complete with the ubiquitous over compression added by FM radio broadcasters. In the heady days of Napster I downloaded this one.

This subject popped into my head the other day following a seemingly meaningless series of actions: I was listening to a radio show a few days after it had originally been broadcast via the internet. I heard a song I liked. I checked in the play list on the website and proceeded to amazon.co.uk and bought the track. Within a minute I had my own copy of the song. Doesn’t sound too exciting does it? Yet when I consider this in the context of the years I spent not knowing who created some of my favourite, barely heard tracks, I feel very grateful for the internet.