Hey, if you’ve ever had it up to here with happy love songs, and crave an antidote to the grating good cheer and puerile positivity of mainstream pop – and you aren’t about to resort to the angry, cretinous, rhythmic shouting of complaining, empty-headed hip-hoppers like Drake, no matter how sour your mood – I have just the thing for you. Today’s selection is welcome proof that the Eighties weren’t all about Culture Club, The Fixx, Thompson Twins, Duran Bloody Duran, and Spandau F’ing Ballet; it’s one of those rare pop gems characterized by true emotional resonance. This one is personal. The protagonist in Political isn’t just momentarily exasperated, and this is no mere bump in an otherwise happy road winding it’s way toward relationship bliss. No, this guy is done. It’s finished. He’s over it. The snark, the judgment, the head games, the walking on eggshells, it’s all finally too much, he’s folding up his tent, and he’s no longer inclined to apologize for how he’s repeatedly come up short and been such a big frigging disappointment.
Right back at ya, sweetheart. Screw it.
Yet, despite the song’s theme of indignant, almost baffled disillusionment, and the expression of sentiments which might, in lesser hands, have devolved into nothing more than petty spite, the musical tone here is as much bittersweet as angry, more weary than aggressive, agitated but not at all menacing, misogynist, or vindictive. This guy is at a loss really, upset, yes, but also confused about how everything went so far south. He’s not coming out the other end of this feeling vindicated or righteous. He’s hurting. This hurts. This is an account of mixed emotions at an unhappy moment of decision, which manages to be energetic, urgent, and melodic, while somehow simultaneously upbeat and depressed. The unusual arrangement, especially the prominence of Geoffrey Kelly’s melodious work on flute, lends the song a bit of a wistful, regretful, philosophical tone, buttressed by lyrics that display unusual emotional maturity. Nobody’s looking for payback here. Nobody feels like holding a grudge. The narrator may finally have resolved that it’s well past time to cut his losses, but high hopes have been dashed, something that was supposed to have been sweet turned sour, good faith effort was wasted, and it’s not at all satisfying that he’s now packing it in, even while it’s a huge relief.
This is an ambitious, multi-layered composition, as befits its subject. Life is complicated. Breakdowns in once loving relationships are complicated. A story like this one can’t be conveyed properly with simple rhythms, rote chord progressions, and standard instrumental accompaniment. Political, with its woodwind harmonies, forcefully strummed acoustic guitar, bluesy harmonica, and drumless tambourine percussion, sounds as unusual as the feelings it’s meant to evoke.
Described variously as proponents of the “alternative”, “indie”, and “folk rock” genres, the musicians of Spirit of the West were plainly, despite the group’s name and Vancouver roots, steeped in the traditional Celtic folk music of the East, as you can hear as well in the excellent Dark House, also off 1988’s Labour Day, and a Song of the Day pick a couple of years back:
Upon first hearing them, I figured they must have been part of the Newfoundland music scene, like Great Big Sea, and nothing about their sound has ever put me in mind of the Pacific coast. A pier-side pub in St. John’s, sure. Stanley Park, not so much.
Labour Day was the beginning of big things for the band. They were able to leave their small indie distributor and sign with a major label on the strength of the album’s healthy sales and positive critical reaction, and went on to record a string of gold and platinum albums in the early 1990s, while landing repeated Juno nominations and touring with the likes of the Tragically Hip, a very big deal up here north of the 49th. Political, while it never charted higher than the low sixties, received steady FM airplay for years after its release, and came to be considered a major artistic breakthrough. Over the years it’s consistently been rated as one of the best songs ever to come out of Canada.
It’s painful to note that lead singer John Mann, the composer of both Political and Dark House, suffered the cruel fate of early onset Alzheimer’s, and died in 2019, aged only 57. He was a year younger than me. So often, these song of the day postings turn out to be part celebration, part obituary, which of course just has to be the pattern as the release dates of the albums that moved me so much in my younger days recede farther and farther into the past.
the needlefish 