One record at a time: 532. Jean Michel Jarre - Deserted Palace

Back in 1989, I bought Jean-Louis Remilleux’s biography of Jean-Michel Jarre. Before the internet turned every obscure fact into a three-second search, books like this were a goldmine for music-obsessed teenagers like me. While reading it, I spotted a partial discography on page 31 that listed two albums I had never heard of. Until then, I had assumed Jarre’s career began with “Oxygène”, so it was a genuine revelation to discover that his debut was actually “Deserted Palace” from 1972. 

The record was long out of print and certainly not lurking hopefully in the CD racks of my local HMV, so it quickly took on near-mythical status. I resigned myself to never owning a copy, and probably never hearing the music at all. Over the years, the occasional LP would surface in mail-order catalogues, but the asking price seemed less like retail and more like a ransom note printed in Record Collector magazine. As a teenager, I could barely afford the French maestro’s latest CD, never mind a rare collector’s item changing hands for hundreds of pounds. 

I did finally get to hear the music when I bought a bootleg CD called “Rarities” in the early nineties. When I first played it, I have to admit I was a little underwhelmed. I had not expected the album to be as polished as “Oxygène” or “Équinoxe”, but I was not quite prepared for how raw, slight and frankly odd it sounded. It was less the grand opening chapter of a glittering electronic career and more the sound of someone finding the keys to the synth cupboard and deciding to have a busy afternoon.

At this stage of his career, Jarre was still a jobbing songwriter and producer rather than the spectacular recording artist who would later fill docklands, skylines and UNESCO-approved landmarks with lasers. “Deserted Palace” was not designed as a conventional pop album. It was a library record, intended to provide short electronic pieces for use in television and media productions. Electronic music was still in its infancy in 1972, so perhaps the hope was that these strange new sounds would appeal to producers and creative types looking for something futuristic, unusual or just sufficiently inexpensive.

The album covers a surprising range of styles, including rap, baroque pastiche, rock gestures and more abstract experimental pieces, although everything is realised through the rather unforgiving combination of a VCS3 synthesiser and a Farfisa organ. As a result, the sound palette is limited, to put it kindly. Some tracks hint at melodies and ideas that would later become far more convincing in Jarre’s hands, but others sound like they were assembled while the equipment was still reading the instruction manual.

This new 2025 pressing is nicely presented, and the back cover describes it as “Volume 1”, which is optimistic in a way I almost admire. Whether “Volume 2” ever emerges remains to be seen, but I am not clearing shelf space just yet. As a historical curiosity, “Deserted Palace” is interesting, and for Jarre completists it fills an important gap. As an album to actually sit and enjoy, however, it is rather hard work. The palace may be deserted, but on this evidence, it may also have had a few problems with the heating. 1/5

One record at a time: 531. Goldfrapp - Felt Mountain

Almost four years ago I confidently declared that I had never felt the urge to buy Goldfrapp's debut album, "Felt Mountain", because it was relatively expensive and it did not seem entirely suited to my taste. Naturally I bought it less than two weeks later. 

In my defence, it was the limited edition reissue and, from memory, cost less than fifteen pounds, which moved it swiftly from "probably not for me" to "well, it would be rude not to". The vinyl is described as "gold" on the promo stricker, although one Discogs reviewer gets much closer to the truth by calling it "watered-down pilsner" or a "slightly hazy urine colour". The sound reproduction is OK but it isn't exactly amazing. This seems the norm nowadays: middling is the standard pressing plants hold themselves to.

The music on this record has a noticeably different character from the sound that would later come to define Goldfrapp. It is still electronic, but not in the glossy, pulsing, slightly grubby way that "Black Cherry" would soon make so irresistible. Instead, this is a stranger, slower and more cinematic record, full of downtempo arrangements, icy strings and trip-hop vibes. It feels less like a straightforward pop album and more like the soundtrack to an old European film you are not entirely sure you understand, but have decided to sit through because all your friends says it is good. 

The opening track, "Lovely Head", is still a striking way to begin. That whistling is instantly memorable, floating in like a ghost with excellent breath control, before Alison’s voice arrives sounding both glamorous and faintly alarming. It is the sort of track that makes the room feel several degrees colder, but in a sophisticated way, as if your central heating has been removed and replaced by an ice sculpture. 

"Human" is the standout for me. It has that dark, smoky, trip-hop feel that brings Portishead to mind, except here it feels smoother, stranger and, whisper it quietly, possibly better. There is a slink to it, a menace, and a sense of drama that never topples into overacting. "Utopia" is another highlight, all sweeping elegance and floating melodies. The album version is good, but the single version adds that extra sprinkle of fairy dust the album take could really have used. It is not a huge difference, but it is the difference between a perfectly nice cake and one that arrives with sparklers and a slightly overcommitted waiter.

Beyond those moments, "Felt Mountain" becomes a more mixed experience. Much of it is perfectly pleasant, often beautifully produced, and ideal background music while working. It drifts around the room with poise and good manners, occasionally looking over your shoulder as you answer emails. The problem is that too much of it settles into the same misty mood, where everything sounds carefully arranged but not always terribly essential.

Still, Felt Mountain has a distinctive identity, and that counts for a lot. It sounds like nothing else in Goldfrapp’s catalogue, certainly not the glossy electro-pop that would follow, and there is something admirable about its commitment to mood over obvious hooks. It may not all land for me, but when it does, it is superb. "Lovely Head", "Human" and "Utopia" are strong enough to justify the trip up the mountain. 2.5/5

One record at a time: 530. Alison Goldfrapp - Flux

Two years after "The Love Invention", Alison Goldfrapp returned in 2025 with "Flux", her second solo album and the first release on her own A.G. Records label. If her debut was a confident stride onto the dancefloor, Flux feels like a continuation of that journey, only with a little more depth tucked beneath the shimmer. The music is still sleek, synthetic and beautifully upholstered, but there is more space here, more atmosphere, and rather more gazing at the sky while quietly wondering what it all means. Which, frankly, feels very Alison Goldfrapp.

I pre-ordered the standard black vinyl from Alison’s webstore, lured in by the promise of an art print that turned out to be rather underwhelming and not quite as exclusive as advertised. Then I spotted the slightly more coveted 'acid yellow' version in a gatefold sleeve in HMV and, naturally, couldn’t resist. They even threw in a postcard, so really, what choice did I have?

As if further proof were needed of Richard X’s genius, he returns here as writer and producer, bringing with him that immaculate electro-pop sheen that sounds as though someone has taken a polishing cloth to a very expensive synthesiser. He is complemented by Swedish all-round clever clogs Stefan Storm, whose contributions help give the album its dreamy, Nordic shimmer. The icing on the cake is provided by the magnificent string arrangements of Davide Rossi, whose playing adds real emotional lift without ever making the record feel overstuffed.

Until I heard this album, I had not realised that Rossi works by recording all the string parts himself. He writes the arrangement, then records dozens of separate takes on top of one another. By slightly shifting his physical position and changing instruments, he creates the natural timing and pitch variations of a real live orchestra, while avoiding the phasing and other issues that affected bands like Electric Light Orchestra when they tried similar techniques back in the seventies. It is a wonderfully old-fashioned idea delivered with modern precision: one man painstakingly pretending to be an orchestra, which is either artistic genius or a very elaborate way of avoiding having to book a rehearsal room.

The album opens with “Hey Hi Hello”, a song that does exactly what an opener should do: it ushers you in with a smile, a shimmer and the faint suspicion that the lighting budget has been totally rinsed. “Sound & Light” follows with a broader sense of wonder and the slightly dangerous urge to turn every personal revelation into a very elegant synth line. There is some genuine emotion in this record too, with songs like “Perfect Lies” feeling strangely autobiographical, as if something more personal is flickering beneath the immaculate surface.

“Reverberotic” is one of the album’s most immediate pleasures, all robotic pulse and glossy suggestion, and its quirky textures are hard to deny. “Find Xanadu” gives the record its clearest pop moment. It is bright, melodic and just knowingly ridiculous enough to work, which is often where Goldfrapp is at her best. “UltraSky” and “Strange Things Happen” lean more heavily into atmosphere, drifting through clouds of synth and strings with the sort of poise that makes you feel underdressed just listening to them. 

For me, “Cinnamon Light” is the special one, both in concept and execution. It has that slightly woozy eighties glow that Goldfrapp does so well, but there is a vulnerability beneath the gloss that keeps it from becoming mere retro styling. The strings do not swamp the song; they seem to breathe around it. It is understated, graceful and quietly affecting, the sort of track that does not elbow its way to the front but ends up staying with you long after the brighter singles have done their glittery business. 

“Play It (Shine Like a Nova Star)” adds a firmer thump and a welcome flash of club energy, reminding you that Goldfrapp can still make electronic pop feel bodily rather than merely decorative. The slinky and reflective "Ordinary Day" begins to wind the album down before the heat and grit of "Magma" delivers the final glorious blow. 

Overall, "Flux" feels less like refinement rather than reinvention. It does not have the shock of the new, and it probably will not convert anyone who has always found Alison's solo work a little too cool to touch, but it is a stronger, richer and more emotionally open record than it first appears. 4.5/5

One record at a time: 529. Alison Goldfrapp - The Love Reinvention

Although this remix album began life as a set of digital files, it did receive a limited run of 1,000 physical copies for Record Store Day in 2023. Naturally, I had no intention of standing outside a shop for hours with middle aged men who talk to themselves, so I did the sensible thing and bought it online once the stampede had passed. At the time, it sold for a perfectly reasonable retail price. Now, inevitably, people are asking daft money for it, because nothing says "celebration of independent record shops" quite like giving scalpers an opportunity to line their pockets. 

As I mentioned when writing about the original album, the material being reworked here is already elegant, synthetic and quietly euphoric, so the remixers are not exactly starting with a packet of crayons in one colour. Working again with Richard X and James Greenwood, the project reshapes the 11-track set through a polished blend of techno, electronica and deep house. I tend to prefer remixes made by the original artist or producer, because they usually preserve the DNA of the source material while finding new angles within it. In short,these mixes feel like alternative versions rather than having been completely anonymised by people like The Orb or Underworld.

"Never Stop Loving" increases the tempo and somehow manages to turn the fat bassline of the original into something monstrous, the sort of thing that does not so much test your speakers as threaten them with destruction. The seven minutes fly by in a relentless barrage that compels you to dance, or at least move your arms in time with the music while pretending you have not put your back out unloading the dishwasher. There are still traces of the original’s romance and shimmer, but everything has been tightened, polished and sent out under a mirror ball with clearer instructions.

The title track picks up that idea and runs with it, pulsing along with a faint whiff of Kraftwerk in its clipped rhythms and clean electronic lines. Alison’s voice remains the human centre of it all, drifting through the circuitry rather than being buried beneath it, which is where these remixes work best. They never forget that beneath the programming, filters and beautifully buffed surfaces, there are actual songs trying to breathe.

"Dug Deeper" leans harder into the club sound without abandoning what made the original work. It has more weight, more propulsion and a slightly sweatier feel, as if someone opened the studio door and discovered there was a basement rave going on underneath. That is the trick across the album: the mixes stretch out, most of them comfortably passing the five minute mark, but they rarely feel padded. The extra space gives the arrangements room to build, circle back and reveal small details that might otherwise have flashed past in the original versions.

What helps "The Love Reinvention" avoid the usual remix album trap is that it feels curated rather than emptied out and repacked for the dance tent. There is a proper sense of continuity here, but also enough movement and muscle to justify its existence as a separate listen. It is less a random bundle of versions and more a late night reflection of the parent album, the same songs seen through glass, smoke and possibly a very expensive lighting rig.

Whilst I love this album, it won't convert anyone allergic to extended electronic mixes, and it may test the patience of those who think every song should get to the point before the kettle boils. For the rest of us, though, it is a generous, stylish and surprisingly cohesive companion piece. Just do not pay a ridiculous resale price for it, unless you enjoy being mugged by someone with a plastic outer sleeve and a Discogs account. 4/5

One record at a time: 528. Alison Goldfrapp - The Love Invention

Whilst I have always liked the band Goldfrapp, I have found myself oddly, and perhaps slightly treacherously, preferring the solo work of lead singer Alison Goldfrapp. "The Love Invention", released in 2023, was one of those albums I first bought as digital files before realising that this simply would not do. Some records demand to be owned on vinyl. 

Opening track "NeverStop" sets out its stall immediately, all deep, groovy basslines, electronic burbling and Alison’s airy vocal floating above the machinery like a glamorous ghost in a very expensive nightclub. The fact that Richard X is involved as co-writer and producer is no surprise. If you are going to make a record that glows with sleek electronic confidence, you may as well bring in the one man who knows exactly where the glitter switch is.

What follows is pure electronic pleasure. The title track glides along with polished disco assurance, "Fever" wears its house influences on its sleeve, and "So Hard So Hot" sounds as though Donna Summer’s "I Feel Love" has been sent forward in time, given a software update and told to behave badly. Even "Gatto Gelato", a title that sounds like something you might order confidently in Rome before discovering it translates roughly as "frozen cat", works beautifully, bringing a slightly Italo-disco flavour without tipping over into novelty.

Alison has always struck me as an artist who thinks at a slight angle to the rest of us. Like Róisín Murphy, she seems to regard the obvious route as something best avoided, preferably while wearing something architectural and looking as though she has just stepped out of a dream sequence directed by someone with an excellent synthesizer collection. This album provides the aural evidence of this theory.

The real joy of "The Love Invention" is that it never apologises for being an electronic dance record. It does not suddenly stop halfway through for an earnest acoustic ballad, nor does it allow a sneaky drum solo to wander in wearing sandals. As far as I can tell, there are no acoustic instruments here at all, and frankly, that is cause for celebration. The record knows what it is: elegant, sensual, synthetic, euphoric and beautifully produced. Alison’s voice remains that strange, icy-warm instrument, capable of sounding intimate and untouchable at the same time, which is quite a trick.

For me, "The Love Invention" is an affirmation of the continuing value of electronic music as something stylish, emotional and deeply human, even when most of the sounds appear to have been generated by equipment with more lights than a seventies discothèque. I wish there were more records like this: intelligent, glamorous, danceable and just odd enough around the edges to keep things interesting. It is Alison Goldfrapp stepping out under her own name and proving that, solo or otherwise, she remains one of electronic pop’s most compelling presences. 4/5

One record at a time: 527. Front 242 - Tyranny For You

I first heard Front 242 not long after "Tyranny >For You<" was released in 1991. At the time, my musical universe revolved around cassettes and compact discs, so the idea of buying this album on vinyl was as alien as wearing lipstick: fine for some, but not for me. Whilst I still don’t wear lipstick, I did buy this reissue of the LP in 2023. The vinyl sounds good; there are some crackles here and there but the strong dynamics mean the music jumps out of the speakers. 

Musically, this album marks the zenith of Front 242’s output for me. They had made great records before it, not least "Official Version" and "Front By Front", but this is where everything seems to lock into place with unnerving precision. The production is sharper, and the atmosphere is both clinical and oddly human.

The singles, “Rhythm of Time” and “Tragedy >For You<”, are fine examples of this album's sound. Both are brash, tightly executed and delivered with the confidence of a band who know they have found an audience. “Rhythm of Time” has the most immediate pull, driven by a clipped, marching momentum and a chorus that almost qualifies as accessible, provided your idea of accessibility includes concrete, steel and a light threat of surveillance.

“Tragedy >For You<” is even better: dramatic, disciplined and just theatrical enough without tipping into pantomime villainy. Jean-Luc De Meyer sounds magnificent throughout the record, his voice cutting through the programming like an instruction issued from a bunker. Richard 23’s presence gives the whole thing extra bite, and the classic line-up feels fully intact here, each part contributing to a record that sounds designed rather than merely assembled.

The album is not just about the obvious singles, though. “Sacrifice” opens with real menace, setting out the record’s cold, martial mood without needing to over-explain itself. “Moldavia” is one of the great deep cuts, all pressure and momentum, a track that seems to move forward by mechanical obligation. “Trigger 2” and “Gripped by Fear” deepen the atmosphere, while “Neurobashing” strips things back into something lean, brutal and effective. Even “Leitmotiv 136” feels like a necessary tightening of the screws before “Soul Manager” closes the standard album with a hypotonic bassline and stuttering rhythms.

One irritation with the vinyl edition is the absence of the hidden CD material, “Hard Rock” and “Trigger 1”. It is a shame, because those little buried extras add to the sense of the record as a complete artefact, slightly mysterious and faintly hostile to anyone who just wanted ten neatly labelled songs and no funny business. Still, the core album is strong enough to survive the omission, even if some of us still feel the need to mutter about it whilst standing in front of our Kallax shelving units.

What makes "Tyranny >For You<" so compelling is that it feels like both a culmination and an endpoint. After this, Front 242 would fragment stylistically, bringing in new contributors and shifting the role of the classic vocal presence. Some of that later work is interesting, but it rarely feels as cohesive as this. Here the balance is perfect: industrial severity, dancefloor force, cryptic slogans, physical percussion and just enough melody to make the punishment memorable. 4/5

One record at a time: 526. John Foxx - The Golden Section

To bolster my John Foxx vinyl collection, I picked up the 40th Anniversary edition of "The Golden Section". My copy arrived signed by the artist, which ought to feel thrilling, though this is becoming such a regular occurrence that I may soon have to start pretending to be harder to impress. This edition is pressed on clear vinyl, although because it was manufactured by GZ Media, "clear" turns out to mean "milky with ambitions". As usual, the inner sleeve came generously stocked with paper dust and assorted debris. It is best to think of this as celebratory confetti marking the arrival of a new record. If you choose to consider it the result of poor quality control, the whole experience becomes more upsetting.

"The Golden Section" arrived three years after Foxx’s iconic debut "Metamatic", and it finds him moving into much lusher, more polished territory. The austere, ice-cold minimalism of that earlier record has not disappeared entirely, but here it is softened and refracted through a more openly melodic, and at times almost commercial prism. Rather than remaining tucked away with engineer Gareth Jones, Foxx assembled a cast that included Mike Howlett, Zeus B Held and J.J. Jeczalik, and the result is a beautifully crafted cocktail of early synth-pop. Bass guitar, Simmons SDSV drums and the Fairlight all play a significant role in shifting the sound away from the brittle, taut edges of "Metamatic" and towards something richer, sleeker and more romantic. It is still unmistakably Foxx, but this time he seems less interested in documenting the end of the modern world and more interested in providing the soundtrack for a slightly mysterious evening in it.

"Someone" is an excellent example of this new approach, with Fairlight strings and Foxx’s brooding vocal combining to produce something close to perfect electronic pop. It has elegance, restraint and just enough emotional distance to remind you whose album this is. For me, though, the two real standouts are "Your Dress" and "Endlessly". "Your Dress" is a sleek, dance-rock inflected track built around sharp Fairlight samples and a crisp, stylish sense of momentum. "Endlessly" is a multi-layered pop song with a driving bassline and a gorgeous, melancholy melody, and it manages to sound both emotionally open and meticulously controlled. It captures that very brief intersection between Foxx’s solo identity and the more expansive arena-synth trajectory of his former band, Ultravox. 

The embarrassment of riches on this record means there are strong ideas and melodies elsewhere, particularly on tracks such as "Ghost on the Water" and "Like a Miracle". These songs have a slightly darker sound, which provides a welcome counterpoint to the pop orientated material such as "My Wild Love". There is a faint sense throughout that John Foxx is balancing instinct with calculation, never quite abandoning his distinctive cool but presenting it in a form polished enough for wider consumption. That tension gives the record much of its character. Even when it aims for sleekness, there is still something slightly strange and emotionally distant lurking underneath, which is usually when the album is at its most interesting. Things tail off a little towards the end, but it is impossible to lose sight of what has gone before. By that point the album has already made its case, not as a flawless whole, but as a stylish, intelligent and often quietly addictive record that rewards repeated listens. 3.5/5

One record at a time: 525. John Foxx - Metamatic

As I sit writing these posts, I occasionally notice odd holes in my collection. Sometimes I have convinced myself an artist is already safely housed on the shelves, only to discover that what I actually own is a battered compact disc hiding elsewhere and doing a poor job of it. John Foxx was one such case. Thankfully, the ever-reliable Burning Shed came to the rescue with a handsome limited 45th anniversary grey vinyl edition of "Metamatic", complete with a signed art print, which is exactly the sort of thing designed to part middle-aged music fans from their money with alarming ease. 

Foxx's debut album first appeared in 1980, and this edition is a timely reminder that it remains one of the key records in the shift from new wave into synth pop. "Metamatic" still sounds startlingly modern, built from stripped back drum machines, skeletal synth lines and a very deliberate sense of urban unease. There is very little clutter here, no indulgent fluff and certainly no effort to make you feel comfortable. It is precise, clinical and stylish, and gives the distinct impression that your approval is neither required nor especially wanted. This album still sounds like tomorrow, albeit a slightly bleak tomorrow in which nobody smiles much.

"Underpass" and "No-One Driving" are the obvious entry points, and rightly so. Both are superb, full of tension, repetition and motorway paranoia. They feel like a gritty British riposte to the sleek Germanic efficiency of "Autobahn". Kraftwerk may glide happily down the motorway in a spotless Mercedes-Benz, but in Foxx’s world the humans are no longer the ones driving and the landscape appears to be quietly catching fire. 

Elsewhere, tracks such as "He’s A Liquid", "Metal Beat" and "A New Kind Of Man" show just how fully formed Foxx’s vision already was. Nothing feels accidental. Every sound seems placed with care, even if that care occasionally suggests a man who trusted machines more than people, which, to be fair, is not always the worst instinct. As a listen, "Metamatic" is not warm, cosy or remotely background friendly. It is sleek, detached, influential and still hugely enjoyable, a record that sounds as if it arrived from a cleaner, stranger future, took one look around and decided standards had slipped. 4/5

One record at a time: 524. Erasure - The Neon Live

Back in September 2022 I reviewed "Day-Glo (Based on a True Story)", where I lamented that Erasure had somehow managed to spin one mediocre album into four separate releases. Well, here we are with the fifth and final instalment in that saga: the obligatory live album. Back in the eighties, the bands I liked rarely bothered with live albums because concert videos were the format of choice. These days, though, barely a year seems to pass without another one appearing, like an annual reminder that completists are not allowed financial peace.

The digital version of this album appeared in early 2022, but the vinyl was delayed by a year because of unspecified manufacturing issues, which is record industry language for ‘please stop asking’. The end result is a triple ‘violet sparkle’ set, limited to 1,500 copies, and it does look rather handsome. That said, I am not entirely convinced it flew off the shelves, as you can still pick it up now for around £48. Then again, that price may have had something to do with the lack of stampede.

The track listing captures a full set, compiled from the band’s preferred performance across two shows. Like many live releases today, the audio was taken directly from the soundboard by Live Here Now and then given a few light post-production touches. In other words, it still sounds like a real gig rather than something painstakingly rebuilt in a studio by people terrified of crowd noise.

Proceedings kick off in fine style with the hit single "Chorus", which stays largely faithful to the original but includes just enough fresh touches to reassure the listener that Vince did not simply press play on MainStage and head off for a sit down. As this tour was promoting "Neon", we must first make our peace with the lead single from that album before arriving at a favourite of mine, and indeed of Vince’s, "Fill Us With Fire". There is also another more recent track in "Sacred", the appearance of which may briefly worry more casual observers that the set is going to neglect the bigger eighties material. Thankfully, "The Circus" soon rolls in to calm any such nerves.

Eurythmics’ "Love Is a Stranger" slips into the set rather neatly and helps banish some of the shame that still lingers from "Other People's Songs". Other highlights include a revamped "Push Me Shove Me" and "Turns the Love to Anger", both of which are welcome additions even if neither quite topples the original studio versions. Still, there is something rather admirable about Erasure’s refusal to treat their early catalogue like an embarrassing school photograph that must never be shown to guests. Unlike Depeche Mode and certain other contemporaries, who can sometimes give the impression that their history begins somewhere around the point they became internationally solemn, Erasure remain refreshingly happy to rummage through the older shelves. They are just as likely to dust off a B-side from one of their earliest singles as they are to showcase something more recent, and that generosity towards their own catalogue gives the set an extra bit of charm. It also means long-time fans are rewarded for having stuck around, bought the twelve-inch singles and, in some cases, carried unreasonable quantities of CD singles home over the years. 

For me, this is a definite improvement on "World Be Live", which never quite managed to shake the feeling that it had been issued more out of duty than inspiration. This one has a bit more life in it, a bit more warmth, and a stronger sense that the band are actually enjoying themselves rather than simply working their way through the set list with professional efficiency. That said, a live album is still not my favourite way to hear Erasure. I will almost always reach for the studio records first, where the songs arrive in their natural habitat, polished, precise and gloriously synthetic. Even so, this works well enough as a diversion and, for those who like a souvenir of the live experience, it does the job rather nicely. It may not be essential, but it is certainly a more entertaining addition to the shelf than some of their previous attempts, and at the very least it gives the violet sparkle vinyl something respectable to do. 3/5

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.