The Fun Boy Three's Lips: Even More Sealed Than The Go-Go's'

One day Terry Hall must have realized that he had co-written a song with Jane Wiedlin. Not only that, but the song that they'd co-written together had turned out to be pretty damn good. And not only that, but the song had also become a big hit for Jane's band. Could he really leave a great song that he'd co-written just ... lying there?

"But," Terry must have figured, "if I'm going to do my own version, I need to do it my way."



Wait ... whoa ... hold the phone. What the hell happened to "Our Lips are Sealed"?

Listening to the Fun Boy Three's version of the song, I am convinced that Terry's absolute main objective was to record a version that would be as completely different from Jane's version as possible. In fact, the song is so different that it's almost unrecognizable. It's like he replaced the cocaine with some morphine. But the mark of a great composition is that it can be performed in a number of different ways and still retain its core appeal. I think Terry showed Jane just how good of a song "Our Lips are Sealed" really was. (Or maybe the whole thing was David Byrne's idea. Seriously, think about all the musical connections that this one simple track contains. We've got the Specials, the Go-Go's, the Talking Heads ... it's like a New Wave orgy.)

Gone is Gina's "disco" beat, replaced with shuffling maracas and conga drums. Charlotte's Byrdsy guitar licks are now being played, almost note for note, by a sinister harpsichord, and Kathy's little bass solo is played by a cello. There is a guitar in this recording, but it bubbles along in a wobbly, repetitive manner underneath the rest of the mix. Neville and Lynvald chant "Bum, Bum-Bum" in the background as if they're the witch's guards from The Wizard of Oz. There are some distant, heavily echoed squeaks in the background here and there - possibly a rusty faucet being turned on, or a feral cat being strangled to death, I can't tell.

Perhaps the most immediately apparent difference between the two versions is the sound and style of the lead singers. Anyone used to Belinda's California quiver will do a double-take upon hearing Terry's extremely British phrasing. Whereas Belinda sang, "Can you hear them?/They talk about us/Telling lies/Well that's no surprise," Terry sings, "Can you hear them?/Talking 'bout us/Telling lies/Is that a surprise?" Cheerio, dahling! "It doesn't madder what they say" even becomes "It doesn't mat-tuh wot they say."

To be clear, I love the Go-Go's' version of "Our Lips Are Sealed" more than I love my own pinky finger, but (God/Belinda don't strike me down) I have to say that I may like the Fun Boy Three's version just as much, and possibly even ... more? Rather, let me say this: after having played the Go-Go's' version to death, I am a little bit sick of it, and if you were ask me to listen to a version of the song right this very minute, I think I would choose to listen to the Fun Boy Three version. What I didn't realize is that, apparently, you have to choose.

See, if you're from the UK, the Fun Boy Three version is the version you would know. The Go-Go's' version had only peaked at #47 there, whereas the Fun Boy Three version peaked at #7, becoming the group's last hit. It was even featured on the Trainspotting soundtrack. On YouTube, you will find several comments from fans of the Fun Boy Three version who sound rather frustrated that the Go-Go's' version is more well-known, usually using phrases such as "far superior," "way better," "1000 times better," etc.:

In my humble opinion, this is about a thousand times better than the Go Go's version. This is nice and eerie. The Go Go's version is too sunny...

Love the Go Go's, but this is SOOOOO much better. His deadpan delivery of these lyrics is PERFECT.

I loved this by Go Go's in the 80's but I STILL love FBT's version more ;-)

Terry sung it how it should have been sung. The Go-Gos version isn't dark enough.

This is a far superior version than the Go-Go's effort. Much more moodier, darker and atmospheric.

FBT's version of this song is by far the best.

I always preferred this version to the Go-Go's one. I like the vocal harmonies.

same here. this versions way better

Brilliant tune, this is for better than the Go GO's version, no contest

I like the Fun Boy Three version better than the Go-Go's. Not that the Go-Go's version is bad, but I like this arrangement much better. For me, this is the definitive version of the song.

this knocks the gogos version into a cocked hat - anyone who don't think so must have shit in their ears

Then there are those who take the Go-Go's' side:

The better of the two? Are you deaf? Woof! That was Aweful. And I'm a Specials fan....

Lacks the passion of the original. The vocals are too monotone.

A brilliant song by Terry but the Go-gos do it better

Go-Go's Version 10000% Better.
LONG LIVE THE GO-GO'S!!

And then there are those like me - the peacemakers:

A beautiful song, whether it's done by the darker Fun Boy Three or The Go Go's...

Certainly a lot darker than the Go-Go's version...each is really appropriate for each group though. I'm a fan of both versions.

The 2 versions represent the two different views of the couple and thier fling esentially, Janes version was done by the Go Gos as a defiant nevermind everyone else we'll have our fun and be happy style while Terrys version based on his original letter comes froma more sombre we'll be judged on this but we cant do much about it. Probably a good representation of an English & then American take on the exact same incident. Americans optimistic English pessamistic

And then there are the miscellaneous:

always loved this song...but can this man get any MORE MISERABLE? dark and moody i get but this? you can see it in the drummers face, shes like "C'mon dude its back to Stacking Pastrami for me down at the deli...will you please move, do something...anything. Fuck."

The bad hair...the eye make-up...the apathetic, slightly sickly, angry, condecending facial expressions...
You've got to love the '80s!
The drummer chick looks like she'd just eaten a plate of bad fish.

For a bloke, he's got a beautiful shaped mouth.

Terry has a Cure look going on. Just needs to smear on some lipstick.

Ta wersja jest ciekawsza (niż Go-Go's ). Zresztą to chyba najlepszy numer w wykonaniu tej kapeli.

In conclusion: there are two hit versions of "Our Lips are Sealed" - whether you like it or not.

The Fun Boy Three Find A Head That Can Talk

For Waiting, their second and final album, the Fun Boy Three needed a producer - and not just any producer. They needed to find someone capable of making music as simultaneously catchy and off-kilter, as concurrently goofy and disturbing, as they could. Where, oh where, would they find such a man?



Singer, songwriter, guitarist, dancer, performance artist, oversized suit wearer ... producer? Hey, why not. Byrne probably figured, "Well, if I fuck up, who's going to notice? It's only a Fun Boy Three record."

Ah, but fuck up he did not. I hereby nominate Waiting as "most overlooked British Ska Revival album by the Fun Boy Three" ever.  And although Byrne surely brought his skills to the table, the album is essentially an infectious continuation of the lounge jazz/funk/surf rock formula the band had already established so well.

"The More I See (The Less I Believe)" is a nice example of the group's seemingly bottomless ability to create snappy and exuberant pop singles that also have some dark, political bite:

The more that I see, the less I believe
The barbed wire fences have replaced all the trees
The houses of God are full of sinners every week
Praying for forgiveness for those that lead to bleed

And they keep telling me it's not my concern
But when petrol runs dry, when cars overturn
When you see children crying, 'cause their cities are burning
Who's gonna show concern?

The world's going to hell ... but I can dance to it! And, wait a minute, where have I seen that weatherman before?...

Then there's "The Farm Yard Connection," the most cheerful song about the trials and tribulations of growing pot that you're ever likely to come across:

What's your names?
Peter and Bob
What's your age?
We're 23
Where do you live?
We live on the farm
What do you do?
We plant weeds

We got to do what we do
'Cause we can't draw dough
We got to earn a living
But every time the job squad come and intrude
Bang! goes another weeks' wages
Bang! goes another weeks' food

Lousy job squad - they get you every time. The zaniest track of all, however, might be "We're Having All The Fun." "We're Having All The Fun" is like a parody of the sort of provincial, kitchen sink, working class British pop that bands like the Specials and their contemporaries did so well. The verses feel like a sardonic laundry list of stereotypical details, especially the way they fly out of Terry Hall's deceivingly chipper mouth:

I live in a flat, I like Manchester United
I live with my girlfriend and my cat, we're really happy
I like watching television wearing dumbal coats and moccasins
Eating crispy pancakes and having Monday haircuts 

Although I'm pretty sure the band is mocking this sort of songwriting, their mockery almost backfires; the tune has so much zip, it genuinely does sound like the Fun Boy Three are having all the fun. Sadly, for Terry, Lynval, and Neville, the fun was approaching its end, but not without one final hit  - a hit that, like the weatherman, would possess a strange air of familiarity.

Orange You Glad The Fun Boy Three Discovered Bananarama?

Perhaps hoping to re-create the male-female dynamic the Specials had briefly experienced when the Go-Go's made a cameo appearance on their second album, the Fun Boy Three decided to collaborate with a previously unknown female trio going by the vowel-challenged name of Bananarama. From whence did this "Bananarama" appear?

The trio were ardent followers of the punk rock and post-punk music scene during the late 1970s and early 1980s and often performed impromptu sets or backing vocals at gigs for such bands as The Monochrome Set, Iggy Pop, The Jam, Department S, and The Nipple Erectors.

Ah yes, the Nipple Erectors - their future seemed so bright. Pity the bassist had to die in a sewage accident. Speaking of sewage accidents, here's a tidbit about Malcolm McLaren:

During this early period Bananarama were approached by Malcolm McLaren, who offered to manage the group. McLaren, manager of the Sex Pistols, Adam and the Ants, and Bow Wow Wow, and notorious for generating scandal, proposed some new material that was sexually suggestive, and did not fit with what at the time was the band's tomboyish and straightforward image. Bananarama passed on both the material and McLaren as their manager.

The girls were clearly better off with the Fun Boy Three, as "It Ain't What You Do (It's That Way That You Do It)" demonstrates.



While that song was officially credited to "the Fun Boy Three with Bananarama," their next collaboration, a quirky cover of the Velvelette's "He Was Really Saying Something," was credited to "Bananarama with Fun Boy Three." Key distinction, apparently. Although the Velvelettes were an obscure Motown group and "He Was Really Saying Something" was only a minor hit, I must boast that I in fact knew the song and even had the original version in my mp3 collection. Take that, Terry Hall!

Madness' "Only" Hit AKA That Song About A House

In America in 1983, Madness came out of "nowhere" and released their "only" hit, "Our House."

When friends in college used to play "Our House" on the stereo, they would get this look on their faces which seemed to suggest thoughts such as "Who sings about their house? What a silly topic for a song!" But instead of this being an amusing insight, this was only an unintentional comment on the sad state of American pop music, where 95% of radio hits are generic love songs. When confronted with music that is not about a boy/girl relationship, the typical American listener does not know how to respond. He or she experiences discomfort and embarrassment, and covers up these feelings with defensive humor. The question, my friends, isn't "Who sings about their house?," but rather, "Why doesn't everybody sing about their house?"

I'm not surprised Madness didn't have many American hits; they were more British than the Queen's armpit hair. I am somewhat surprised, however, that their one big American hit happened to be "Our House." I mean, why "Our House"?

In one sense, it's simply another strong Madness single in a long line of strong Madness singles. It may not be their best song, but it is probably in the running. Is it slightly less "British" than their other singles? Did the presence of a string section make the song seem more "pop"?

On the other hand, "Our House" is arguably the kind of song that Madness had been working toward its whole career. Its sentiment is universal, its sound is stately and sweeping. There's nary a hint of ska to be found. Although it was not their biggest British hit, my guess is that even in the UK, it is probably their most well-known song.

I think the answer is that, while "Our House" is somewhat odd and kooky by typical American radio standards, it is less odd and kooky than songs about baggy trousers and joke shops. In other words, by Madness standards, "Our House" is relatively normal. It is just the right amount of odd: odd enough to be memorable, but not so odd that it simply bounces right off you.

Likewise, the video doesn't strike me as being one of Madness' strongest or poorest; if anything, the clip's goofy tone doesn't really do justice to the poignant, nostalgic flavor of the lyrics:

Father wears his Sunday best
Mother's tired, she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister's sighing in her sleep
Brother's got a date to keep
He can't hang around

Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street

I remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time, such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how we'd play, simply waste the day away
Then we'd say nothing would come between us, two dreamers

Wait, so if "way back then" was "such a happy time," then what does that say about the present? Does the present really stink? And who are the "two dreamers," and did something eventually come between them? These lines suggest that "Our House" is actually not a silly song about people's houses, but an elegy for lost youth and innocence.

You see, Madness songs are not mindless little ditties; they are three-minute works of literature. Madness singles are like mini-plays. Being fully aware of this, I was not surprised to learn about the existence of a Madness jukebox musical, which is called - surprise - Our House. Here's an excerpt of the plot summary:

Our House is the story of Joe Casey who, on the night of his sixteenth birthday, takes Sarah, the girl of his dreams, out on their first date. In an effort to impress her with bravado, he breaks into a building site overlooking his home on Casey Street, which is owned by Mister Pressman, a high-end property developer. The police turn up, at which point Joe’s life splits into two: the Good Joe, who stays to help, and Bad Joe, who flees.

Good Joe, having stayed to help Sarah, is sent to a ‘correctional facility’ for two years. On his release, finding that his past prevents him from getting a good job, he struggles to make ends meet. Despite managing to buy himself a second-hand car, he convinces himself that he is an embarrassment to all who care about him – especially Sarah, whose new college lifestyle reading law is complicated by Callum, a fellow student. In an effort to keep up with this guy, Good Joe is beguiled by his ‘mate’ Reecey into helping stage a break-in for some easy money – is caught and this time sent down.

I can already see the choice of numbers: "House of Fun," then "Driving In My Car," followed by "Embarrassment," then "Shut Up" - why, a Madness musical writes itself! Somehow or other the plot revolves around Joe's mother trying to keep a developer from destroying the cherished family ... you guessed it.

I think there's another reason why Madness are mainly known in the U.S. for "Our House": it was probably their last truly great single. Americans caught Madness Fever at precisely the wrong time. Sure, the group stuck around for a few more years, but the spirit faltered. The production grew dated, the lyrics became more generic - go and listen if you want. In that sense, "Our House" wasn't just an elegy for lost youth, but also for the band's artistic peak. I think if Madness had been able to follow up "Our House" with, say, "Night Boat To Cairo" or "Cardiac Arrest," they might have made a bigger splash over here. But instead, they had to sit back and let their earlier catalog spread the legacy. For those who bothered to find it.

Fun Boy Three: Better Than The Specials

There, I said it. I know, I just enraged the five people who cared. But hear me out. The Fun Boy Three were catchier, funnier, weirder, more eclectic, more skillfully produced, and just ... better? Also, Terry Hall's hair became more interesting. For whatever reason, the three former lead singers of the revered ska revival band ditched the reggae for some sort of an offbeat African/Middle Eastern/Doo-Wop hybrid. However, they probably didn't influence anybody (other than Blur?) and they were only together for a couple of years. Even so, I stand by my statement.

Make up your own mind. Here's their debut single, "The Lunatics (Have Taken Over The Asylum)."

I see a clinic full of cynics
Who want to twist the peoples' wrist
They're watching every move we make
We're all included on the list

The lunatics have taken over the asylum
The lunatics have taken over the asylum

Go nuclear the cowboy told us
And who am I to disagree
'Cos when the madman flips the switch
The nuclear will go for me

Oh, that Ronnie, what a guy. Sadly, although the ascendancy of Reagan and Thatcher may have seemed quite ominous to Terry Hall in 1981, the world survived their rule and has gone on to exist for at least several more decades. Hey, maybe the lunatics should take over the asylum more often. But like "99 Luftballons," for a song about how doomed we supposedly are, it's pretty catchy!

I'm also partial to "The Telephone Always Rings":



The Fun Boy Three could even breathe new life into a ubiquitous standard like Gershwin's "Summertime":



Yes, the Fun Boy Three seemingly had everything. Everything, that is, except a bizarre female doppelganger group.

Enter Bananarama.

Further Madness

By 1982, Madness were probably assuming that, as long as their music remained disarmingly chipper, their lyrics could be as dark as humanly possible. "Cardiac Arrest" put that notion to the test:

The song was written by Chas Smash and Chris Foreman and tells a story of a workaholic who suffers a fatal heart attack on his way to work. The song received little if any airplay, other than on the Top 40 show, on BBC Radio 1 due to deaths in the families of two DJs; this was cited as one reason for the record's disappointing chart position. It was the first Madness single since "The Prince" not making it to the top 10.

Now, just read these lyrics and imagine what sort of music might fit in here:

Never get there at this rate
He's caught up in a jam
There's a meeting this morning
It's just his luck oh damn

His hand dives in his pocket
For his handkerchief
Pearls of sweat on his collar
His pulse-beat seems so brief

Eyes fall on his wristwatch
The seconds pass real slow
Gasping for the hot air
But the chest pain it won't go

Tried to ask for help
But can't seem to speak a word,
Words are whispered frantically
But don't seem to be heard
What about the wife and kids?
They all depend on me

Naturally, the music is extremely jaunty and exuberant:



While "Driving In My Car" returned them to the Top 10, the provincial English references were arguably starting to approach self-parody by this point:

I've been driving in my car, it's not quite a Jaguar
I bought it in Primrose Hill from a bloke from Brazil
It was made in fifty-nine in a factory by the Tyne
It says Morris on the door, the G.P.O. owned it before
I drive in it for my job, the governor calls me a slob
But I don't really care, give me some gas and the open air

I've been driving in my car, it don't look much but I've been far
I drive up to Muswell Hill, I've even been to Selsey Bill
I drove along the A45, I had her up to 58
This copper stopped me the other day, you're mistaken what could I say
The tyres were a little worn, they were O.K., I could have sworn
I like driving in my car, I'm satisfied I've got this far

Say wot? We've got "Primrose Hill," "Tyne," "bloke," "Muswell Hill" - this is Anglo overload! Indeed, this might be the most "Madness" Madness song ever, and not necessarily in a good way. We've got actual honest-to-goodness honking car horns, bells, whistles ... even a saxophone bridge that sounds like it was lifted from a Supertramp song. Keep your eye out, however, for the Fun Boy Three, who around the 2:00 mark attempt, and fail, to hitch a ride in Madness' extreme Britmobile.



Unlike "Driving In My Car," the sentiment in "House Of Fun" was universal: young people trying to get laid.

The lyrics tell the story of a boy on his 16th birthday attempting to buy condoms at a chemist. The UK age of consent is 16, and he makes a point of stating that he is "16 today and up for fun". However, the boy is misunderstood by the chemist, as he asks for the condoms using slang euphemisms, such as "box of balloons with a featherlight touch" and "party hats with the coloured tips". The confused chemist behind the counter eventually informs the boy that the establishment is not a joke shop, and directs him towards the "House of Fun".

N-n-n-n-n-n-no no miss
You misunderstood
Sixteen big boy
Full pint in my manhood
I'm up to date
And the date's today
So if you'll serve
I'll be on my way

Welcome to the House of Fun
Now I've come of age
Welcome to the House of Fun
Welcome to the lion's den
Temptation's on his way
Welcome to the House of

None of which was the least bit apparent to me until I read the Wikipedia article, of course. While the song, which became Madness' only UK #1, wasn't even released in the US, apparently the video ended up in heavy MTV rotation, thus laying the groundwork for Madness' only "hit." Indeed, that hit, which I need not name, helped to also turn an earlier Madness song, "It Must Be Love," into a smaller US hit as well (it peaked at #33). Yes, technically, Madness had two American hits. What does Selsey Bill have to say about that, eh?

Specials Release Crowning Achievement, Promptly Disappear Like Ghosts

I wouldn't have pegged early '80s Britain as a bouquet of roses, exactly, but I was surprised to learn about the true depth of urban turmoil and violence during that era. From Wikipedia:

In 1981, the United Kingdom suffered serious riots across many major cities in England. They were perceived as race riots between communities, in all cases the main motives for the riots were related to racial tension and inner-city deprivation. The riots were caused by a distrust of the police and authority. The four main riots that occurred were the Brixton riot in London, the Handsworth riots in Birmingham, the Chapeltown riot in Leeds, and the Toxteth riots in Liverpool.

Really? I associate riots with late '60s Detroit or Watts, or modern day Egypt and Libya, not '80s Britain. Things must have been pretty shitty. At any rate, trouble had probably been brewing for quite some time. In 1980, Specials keyboardist Jerry Dammers wrote a song called "Ghost Town," which he says was inspired by the industrial decline of the band's hometown, Coventry (think every other Bruce Springsteen song), not any particular riot per se. But just as the song started climbing the charts, riots broke out in Brixton. Suddenly "Ghost Town" was "prophetic" and "captured an era." I suppose it did, but none of that would have mattered if the song stank.

It didn't.

I remember reading years ago about how great "Ghost Town" was - how it was so "relevant" and "incisive." But after I found the Specials' debut album so disappointing, I figured, "Yeah, it's probably not that good."

I was wrong.



The sound of wind. A hypnotic, funky reggae beat. A minor key, vaguely Middle-Eastern keyboard melody.

This town, is coming like a ghost town
All the clubs have been closed down
This place, is coming like a ghost town
Bands won't play no more
Too much fighting on the dance floor

This song is ... spooky! They even start making this high-pitched, Native American war cry sound. It's like a barren, Spaghetti Western landscape - but with ska.

In the '80s, meaningful social commentary and commercial success did not, shall we say, go hand in hand. But every once in a while, I guess one snuck through the cracks.

So, the start of a terrific new era for the Specials? No, just the opposite. As with the English Beat and "Save It For Later," right when the Specials were arguably discovering their true artistic powers, they broke up. Well, officially, Jerry Dammers kept releasing music under the name "the Specials," but the band's three lead singers (Lynvald, Neville, and Terry) left to form a group that, although not as highly regarded as the Specials, is a group I actually like more.

Prepare yourself ... for the Fun Boy Three.

The English Beat: Saved Their Best Song For Later

Occasionally a British band will try to release their debut album in the United States, only to find out that some obscure American band is already using the same name. This is how Squeeze became U.K. Squeeze, how Suede became the London Suede, and how the Beat became the English Beat.

There wasn't much that was particularly English about the English Beat, however. Their first album, I Just Can't Stop It!, like the Specials' debut, is considered one of the defining Ska Revival albums. Also like the Specials' debut, I listened to it years ago and it passed through me like water. Again, it sounded well-intentioned but boring - just another bunch of English kids who didn't bring enough of a twist to their fandom. Witness the first single from the album, a cover of Smokey Robinson and the Miracles' "Tears of a Clown" (like Madness, the English Beat released their debut single on 2 Tone Records, but signed elsewhere afterwards). I can hear an interesting ska cover of "Tears of a Clown" somewhere in my head, but I don't think this is it. The novelty-ish aspect of the cover is reinforced by the guy in the background at the end of the song singing "Tears of a clon." Tears of a clon? Really, mon?



However, the band did have a great logo.

Also, their lead singer, Dave Wakeling, arguably had more marbles in his mouth than Paul Weller or Joe Strummer. But get him pontificating on the meaning of English Beat songs, and he's pretty entertaining. Here's an excerpt from his interview for the AV Club's "Set List" series, where he explains the inspiration for another popular hit from the debut album, "Mirror In The Bathroom":

The lyrics were written when I was working on a construction site. I’d had a couple of drinks the night before, and forgot to hang up my clothes to dry for the next day. It gets very wet on those construction sites, and it was the winter, so it was a snowy wet. I got into the bathroom and realized my clothes were all on the floor in a wet, sandy pile. So I hung them up and thought, “Well, if I steam them, at least I’ll be puttin’ ’em on warm.” I had a shower, and then I was shaving in the mirror, with the hangover and the wet clothes, and the thought of trying to break up frozen sand to put into the concrete machine was not that tasty. And I started talking to myself in the mirror, and said, “Dave, we don’t have to do this, mate. We don’t have to do this.” And in the mirror behind me, the door of the bathroom had a tiny little latch on it, and I said to myself, “The door’s locked. There’s only me and you. Just me and you here. We don’t have to do this.” And of course we did, because we needed money for Guinness that night. [Laughs.]

So on the motorbike we got, and skidded our way back to the construction site. And while I was on the bike, I was pondering it. “The door is locked, just you and me.” Had a nice feel to it. “Mirror In The bathroom.” That’s a great idea, but you can’t have a pop song called “Mirror In The Bathroom,” can you? That’s stupid. You’re meant to have pop songs called, “I Love You, Lady,” or something.

Still, I probably wouldn't have given the English Beat a second look until I heard "Save It For Later," a single from their third album, when it was included on the Pitchfork 500. By this time the band had more of a '60s R&B than a ska sound - well, it's more like a "if '60s R&B, ska, and the Byrds had a three-way, while 'Strawberry Fields Forever' watched" sound, but whatever, they're British. As with their earlier material, I didn't think much of it at first, but for some reason it grew on me.

Two dozen other dirty lovers
Must be a sucker for it
Cry, cry, but I don't need my mother
Just hold my hand while I come
To a decision on it

Sooner or later
Your legs give way, you hit the ground
Save it for later
Don't run away and let me down
Sooner or later
You hit the deck, you get found out
Save it for later
Don't run away and let me down
You let me down

Although only a minor hit in both the UK and US at the time, this song has become, unbeknownst to me, something of an '80s classic. Theories abound as to the song's meaning: Ned Raggett writes that it "remains one of the few pop songs about holding off on sex instead of taking the plunge," while others claim it's about oral sex. In the AV Club interview, however, Wakeling says something entirely different:

It started off as a dirty schoolboy joke. The phrase “save it for later” is meant to be “save it,” comma, “fellator.” As in, “Leave it as it is, cocksucker.” [Laughs.] But we didn’t have the term “cocksucker” in England at the time. We didn’t really learn that one ’til we came to America. So it wasn’t really a putdown, because we didn’t really use that term to put down people at the time, and I don’t think they do very much in England now, either. Anyways, that was the nature of the joke.

It was a song really about not knowing what to do, because you knew people looked at you as though you were a man, but you knew you didn’t know how to operate in a man’s world. You still were responding to things the same way as you always had as a boy. And it’s a scary thing, really, being scared of all the implications of your life and not knowing what else to do other than to try and bravely march forward into the dark regardless. It’s been hard to describe. People ask, “What’s that song about?” Well, it’s about nothing. It’s about not knowing anything. [Laughs.] Or feeling like you know nothing, and grasping in the dark for your place in the world, and trying to do it with a wry humor. It’s like your legs give way, and every time you try to stand up and pretend to be a man, the boy in you would flip over in front of everybody and you’re embarrassed again, y’know? Particularly I suppose as you try and learn how to deal with girls turning into women. They could say one thing and you’d go bright red, look at the floor and start shuffling around like you just got told off by your teacher at school.

Somehow, without picking up on any of that, I knew that the song was about something enigmatic and mysterious. A song doesn't always need to be "about" something to be about something, you know what I mean?

Besides, sometimes a single can just capture a "moment." And "Save It For Later" catches that great moment in '80s British pop where bands who started out in such a stylistically narrow scene finally began branching out and performing whatever kind of music they liked. I mean, why cover a Motown song in a ska style, when you can write your own Motown-style song and record it in a Motown style?



Above all, "Save It For Later" (and its accompanying video) just radiates this whole aura of cool. It's like a room full of intelligent people with great taste in everything. As those elegant strings swirl over the fade-out, I imagine dancing the night away on the banks of the Seine, cocktail in hand, marveling at the majesty of life. Work with me, here.

But alas, just as they might have been hitting a new peak, the English Beat broke up. Wakeling and fellow vocalist Ranking Roger went on to form General Public, while guitarist Andy Cox and bassist David Steele found another singer, came up with a ridiculous new band name, and had a couple of hits in 1989 that you might have heard somewhere.

The Sadness Of Madness?

"Baggy Trousers," the first single from Madness' second album, Absolutely, probably seemed like more of the same nuttiness as before, with its aggressive vibraphone playing and its gleeful, if unsentimental, recollection of boyhood antics:

Lots of girls and lots of boys
Lots of smells and lots of noise
Playing football in the park
Kicking pushbikes after dark
Baggy trousers, dirty shirt
Pulling hair and eating dirt
Teacher comes to break it up
Back of the 'ead with a plastic cup

Oh what fun we had
But did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days

"Embarrassment," however, was a different bag of chips:

Primarily written by Lee Thompson, the plot of the song reflected the unfolding turmoil following the news that his teenage sister, Tracy Thompson, had become pregnant and was carrying a black man's child. The subsequent rejection by her family, and the shame felt, was reflected in the song. As Thompson was on the road with the band, he only heard snippets of the story, through phone calls and letters, but this was enough for him to piece the story together.

Received a letter just the other day,
Don't seem they wanna know you no more,
They've laid it down given you their score,
Within the first two lines it bluntly read.

You're not to come see us no more,
Keep away from our door,
Don't come 'round here no more
What on earth did you do that for?

Our aunt, she don't wanna know, she says,
What will the neighbours think, they'll think,
We don't that's what they'll think, we don't,
But I will, 'cause I know they think I don't

Our uncle he don't wanna know, he says,
We are a disgrace to the human race, he says,
How can you show your face,
When you're a disgrace to the human race?

Wot's this all about? Madness attempting social commentary? Well, if you're worried that a song about teenage pregnancy and racism might not be any "fun," worry no more. In fact, the tension between the indignation in the lyrics and the peppiness of the music is, in my opinion, something that makes "Embarrassment" soar. Hell, there's even tension between the lyrics and the lyrics: while the parents in the song are harsh and unforgiving, the band itself is, one can assume, more sympathetic to the girl's plight. Had Madness mastered the concept of the unreliable narrator?

Not only were the band branching out lyrically, but musically as well: instead of the usual ska vibe, "Embarrassment" employs a Motown beat straight out of early Supremes songs such as "Baby Love" and "Where Did Our Love Go?" I find myself instinctively tapping my feet to a story about a family excommunicating their daughter. Not an easy thing to make someone do.

Indeed, there is nothing like the sound of an already strong band truly coming into its own. It's not that Madness were profoundly altering their style or their subject matter, but that they were adding new elements while still retaining all the old elements that made them "Madness." It's like they were simultaneously aging and staying young ... at the same time!



More overtly glum was the first single from their third album, "Grey Day":

After eating I go out,
People passing by me shout
I can't stand this agony
Why don't they talk to me?

In the park I have to rest
I lie down and I do my best,
The rain is falling on my face
I wish I could sink without a trace

In the morning I awake,
My arms my legs my body aches,
The sky outside is wet and grey,
So begins another weary day
So begins another weary day

Sounds like Madness suddenly needed to be put on suicide watch. (Side note: how come the British seem to do these types of songs so well?)



If "Embarrassment" was a tragic song with upbeat music, "Shut Up" was a comical song with sinister music. According to Wikipedia, the single "tells a story of a criminal who, despite obvious evidence, tries to convince people he is not guilty." While the lyrics of the song, and the melody of the verses, suggest a silly atmosphere, the chorus feels very dark and foreboding, with heavy guitar chords and forceful piano playing which seems to bounce between off-key ragtime goofiness and classical piano-style grandeur:

I tell you I didn't do it
'Cause I wasn't there
Don't blame me, it just isn't fair
You listened to their side
Now listen to mine
Can't think of a story
Sure you'll find me some time

Now pass the blame and don't blame me
Just close your eyes and count to three
(One two three)
Then I'll be gone and you'll forget
The broken window, T.V. set

At this point, Madness were churning out clever, snappy, complex British pop gems without even breaking a sweat. A sweat, I tell you! The band may have had bigger and more famous hits than songs like "Embarrassment" and "Shut Up," but these are probably my favorite Madness singles nonetheless.

Madness, I Tell You, Madness!

With all due respect to the Specials, if you're looking for the best British Ska Revival band, you're looking for Madness.

Having not been too taken by the Specials, I waited a little while on Madness. But about five years ago, I downloaded Divine Madness, one of their singles collections, and I must tell you that I did not regret it.

Madness are like a big ball of zany. When I listen to a Madness song, I picture seven funny Cockney pub dwellers dressed in bow ties and bowler hats all standing on the doorstep of a house, and the leader suddenly shouts "Go!" and they burst through the door and start rearranging all the furniture and tilting the paintings on the wall and turning the sinks on and off like the Cat in the Hat, and then they put everything back in place and exit the front door with split-second precision, and the house is completely quiet again and you don't even have time to figure out what just happened.

Madness, a band of seven like the Specials, and featuring lead singer Graham McPherson (otherwise known as Suggs), dubbed their own style of music "the Nutty Sound." Although ska may be a large part of the Nutty Sound, there is no mistaking Madness for mere reggae revivalists. You see, the band also had a prominent fondness for what you might call "music hall" or "Vaudeville." Honking saxophone breaks, plinking piano solos, vibraphones, "horror soundtrack" vocal interjections ... Madness weren't a ska revival band, they were a Victorian-era carnival sideshow!

The band's first single, "The Prince," was released on 2 Tone Records, the label founded by the Specials' keyboardist Jerry Dammers. Apparently, bands could sign a contract with 2 Tone allowing them to leave the label after releasing just one single, which is what Madness ultimately did. But artistically, the connection between the two groups would remain.



"One Step Beyond..." Madness' second single and first UK Top 10 hit, was, more importantly, the opening track on their debut album, and it functioned as the perfect statement of purpose. "Hey you! Don't watch that, watch this! This is the heavy heavy monster sound!" And with that ... they're off. Before the fat kid in bed can even figure out what's going on, the song comes to a crashing halt. I can just see young, impressionable British children sitting in front of their TVs at home in 1980, seeing this for the first time, thinking, "Wait, who were those guys?"



"Those guys" were Madness, my friends, and they were here to stay. Pressured by their new record company, the group released another track from One Step Beyond..., "Night Boat To Cairo," as the headlining cut of an EP. Something tells me the band didn't actually travel to Egypt to film this clip:

After the decision to issue the Work Rest and Play EP, a promotional music video was needed. However, there was a lack of time before the release, and not enough to make an effective video. Therefore, Madness filmed a karaoke type video in front of a blatantly chroma keyed backdrop of an Egyptian pyramid, with the lyrics appearing on screen in "bouncing ball" style as Suggs sang them.  During the long instrumental sections of the song, the band often ran around the set, marching and performing their signature "Nutty Train".

Despite the video's poor effects and unprofessional feel, it became very popular with fans, possibly due to the carefree nature and fooling around of the band onscreen (likely attributable to the large amount of alcohol they consumed while filming).

I see. Let's hear it for the bouncing ball, because without it, I genuinely could not decipher these lyrics. In my head it was always "Something something something ... banks of the River Nile ... something something."



But just as the world thought it was picking up on Madness' whole modus operandi, their third single, "My Girl," revealed a quieter, more vulnerable, more observational side to the group:

My girl's mad at me
Been on the telephone for an hour
We hardly said a word
I tried and tried but I could not be heard

Why can't I explain?
Why do I feel this pain?
'Cause everything I say
She doesn't understand
She doesn't realize
She takes it all the wrong way

"Pain"? "Wrong"? Who kidnapped Madness and fed them downers? At the time, the downbeat nature of "My Girl" probably seemed like an exception to the nuttiness. In truth, it was a sign of things to come.

The Specials: How Special, Really?

Q: What's black, white, and British all over?

In the '90s, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few of my peers listening to ska revival bands. Every now and then I heard someone mention a band called the Specials. I assumed they were a band from the '90s. Later I learned they were a band from the late '70s and early '80s, and that they were part of the British New Wave. I liked a lot of other New Wave bands, so I figured I would like the Specials. Allmusic gave their debut album five stars. It was produced by Elvis Costello! Should be right up my alley.

I'll say one thing, The Specials certainly had a dynamic stage presence: four white instrumentalists, two black singers from Jamaica (Neville Staple and Lynval Golding), and a third singer, who was probably the whitest white guy in the world.

Terry Hall sounds like he just stepped out of a cabaret wearing a top hat and cane. He eternally seems like he's about five seconds from completely losing interest in you. He could be Damon Albarn's long-lost uncle. Terry Hall doesn't sound like he should be anywhere near reggae. But that's why it works, I suppose.

At any rate, when I finally did listen to the Specials' debut album, I thought it was ... boring. It didn't seem to set itself apart from a million other bands who've played ska and reggae. Here, for example, is their cover of the 1967 Dandy Livingstone song, "A Message To You, Rudy."



Kind of ... bland, right? I started to wonder if critics had praised The Specials only because of the novelty of a British band performing that type of music during that particular era. Another example: An EP featuring a live version of the album's "Too Much Too Young" as its headlining track went to #1 in the UK in 1980. I probably find the lyrics, a serio-comic tale about teen pregnancy, more interesting than the music, which is kind of repetitive and slightly gets on my nerves:

You've done too much
Much too young
Now you're married with a kid
When you could be having fun with me

Ain't you heard of the starving millions
Ain't you heard of contraception
Really want a program of sterilization
Take control of the population boom
It's in your living room
Keep a generation gap
Try wearing a cap

Sure, I got it: the Specials had a genuine appreciation for ska and were sincere in their attempt to popularize it. But that's not enough! I mean, the Clash didn't simply mimic the reggae artists they liked; they added their own punk guitar rage and indecipherable Joe Strummer vocals to the mix. They performed reggae with their own distinct voice.



The Specials' debut album just sounds like a ska tribute bar band down the street. There's a lot of slow, unfocused jamming. I expected it to be tighter, poppier, funkier, heavier. However, it turns out that the Specials did record some songs that more closely match my earlier expectations; they're just not on the debut album. Maybe Elvis Costello did a crappy job?

Witness the band's first single, "Gangsters," which is more of what I expected the Specials to sound like. "Why must you record my phone calls?/Are you planning a bootleg LP?" Hall deadpans into the mic. I dig this surf rock/lounge-pop feel.



I also like some of the singles from their second album, the imaginatively titled More Specials, such as "Rat Race," with its kitschy '60s keyboards and wry British educational references that would have never found their way onto a genuine reggae record:

You're working at your leisure to learn the things you'll need
The promises you make tomorrow will carry no guarantee
I've seen your qualifications, you've got a Ph.D.
I've got one art O level, it did nothing for me

Working for the rat race
You know you're wasting your time
Working for the rat race
You're no friend of mine

Now this is a bit more like it! Turns out the Specials were actually a singles band. That said, the band's finest single ... was yet to come.

When The British Revived Ska

For obvious reasons, '70s British punk musicians were all passionate fans of ... reggae.

Look, I don't understand it either, but just take my word for it. Maybe it was reggae's frequently political lyrics, or its minimalist production values. Maybe British white kids saw reggae as a more authentic kind of black music than the relatively corporate disco of the era. Whatever the reason, they loved it. Not only did they love it, but they wanted to play it.

The first British reggae-tinged punk act I gave my serious attention to was the Clash. Hell, I liked the Clash's reggae more than actual reggae! When I started to read about the so-called British Ska Revival, I imagined that I would really like it, and that it would sound a lot like the Clash.

It didn't. In fact, after my initial exposure to the British Ska Revival, I was not terribly impressed. I dismissed it and ignored it for years. But upon revisiting the entirety of New Wave, I can admit that my initial diagnosis was premature. The things is, I didn't actually manage to hear the best British Ska Revival songs, most of which were singles, not album tracks. So I am changing my tune, mon.

Almost every British New Wave act, from Elvis Costello to Nick Lowe to Joe Jackson to XTC, tried a little bit of reggae, or ska, or rocksteady, or whatever they liked to call it (to be honest, I'm not sure I know the difference). The Police titled their second album Regatta De Blanc ("White Reggae"). But the official British Ska Revival was a specific "scene" that revolved around the 2-Tone record label, and three bands in particular. In this series, I am going to tell you about those three bands.