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This is Kissing The Pink's third studio album and dates to 1986. After achieving moderate success with their first two albums, this record feels like one final push to broaden the band’s appeal, or at least move them into the part of the shop where everything isn’t reduced in price. Phil Harding was brought in to add his distinctive studio sheen to Peter Walsh's production, giving parts of the record a crisp, radio-friendly finish without completely sanding away the band’s odd edges. One of my favourite bass players, Derek Forbes, appears on two tracks, which is already enough to make me sit up straighter, and even Matt Aitken of the Stock Aitken Waterman production house pops up on guitar. It is a strange but intriguing combination, like finding a serious art installation in the middle of Primark.
What I admire about Kissing the Pink is that they never really abandoned their synth-pop instincts, even when the album is clearly dressed in brighter, more accessible colours. A lot of classically trained musicians can make pop music sound like homework, or worse, like they are doing the audience an intellectual favour. Kissing the Pink avoid that completely. They manage to create memorable pop tunes without giving the impression that they are slumming it, and their humour keeps bubbling away beneath the surface. Even when the songs lean towards the mainstream, there is always the sense that, as soon as someone responsible has left the room, they are quietly adjusting the synth settings to something less sensible.
The opening track "One Step" sounds like the album’s most direct bid for the dance floor. It has the smooth, bright feel that would not have sounded too out of place alongside Madonna, a-ha and assorted other people with excellent hair. The problem is that Nicholas Whitecross’ faux American accent and the dense arrangement of female backing vocals rather swamp the song. Instead of sounding effortless, it feels slightly overstuffed, as if its better instincts are being jostled by too many competing ideas.
"Never Too Late To Love You" suffers from some of the same issues. Nick’s tongue-in-cheek accent and the backing vocals become distracting, even though there is a decent song trying to get out from underneath the arrangement. Of the singles released from the album, the title track is probably my favourite because it feels closest to the band’s natural sound, or at least the version of it allowed out in public after someone had checked its shoes were clean.
Elsewhere, "Identity Card" is relentless pop fun and well worth a listen, while "Jones" borrows neatly from Bowie and Simple Minds to create a pleasing little number. "Can You Hear Me" tries to retain a bit of the band’s eccentric identity by unexpectedly tossing in some bagpipes, although even they cannot quite cut through everything going on around them. The album's nadir is "One Day", which manages the impressive trick of sounding expensive and oddly underpowered at the same time. I am still not sure why anyone would go to the expense of putting a string section on a track and then recording it in a key so low that the singer sounds as if he is trying to retrieve the melody from under the floorboards.
That is the album in miniature: the compositions are often good, but the presentation sometimes pulls them away from the band’s natural art-pop eccentricity. It leaves "Certain Things Are Likely" as something of a mixed bag, but an interesting one. It may not have turned Kissing The Pink into the chart-conquering concern their record company clearly wanted, and yes, they were dropped afterwards, because pop history is rarely kind. Still, the band live on in the racks, in the memories of people who like their synth-pop with a faint whiff of mischief, and in second-hand record shops where copies like mine sit waiting to be rescued by someone willing to overpay in the name of cultural preservation. Benevolent vinyl-dispensing fairies, consider your work appreciated. 3/5
