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