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06-17-2012, 09:52 AM | #1345 (permalink) |
Born to be mild
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This is serious --- Marilyn Martin --- 1988 (Atlantic)
Those few of you who even remember the name will probably recall the hit Marilyn had with Phil Collins, on the single “Separate lives”, and in truth though she was thought to be destined for big things, this, her second album, was her last, as the label dropped her on the back of poor sales. It's not a bad album though, and it certainly has its moments, but to be honest it was never going to set the world on fire. Even the inclusion of a song co-written by Madonna was unable to interest the record-buying public in this album, and in my own case I must admit I really bought it only out of curiosity, having heard her on the abovementioned duet with Collins. It's that Madonna-penned song that opens the album, and perhaps that's a bad move, as it's very dance-oriented, quite throwaway and not at all representative of the quality this album often shines through with. But first impressions last, and anyone hearing “Possessive love” is likely to have thought here we go, another disco diva who thinks she's a star. It's the sort of song any female singer you care to mention could make work, as in it hasn't got too much about it, and I'm actually quite surprised to find that Madge was involved, as it's really pretty sub-par. But things don't stay that way for long, and the title track, up next, ups the ante a little, giving more of a glimpse into the sort of music this woman could make. It's still poppy and dancy, but puts me more in mind of the likes of the late Laura Branigan with a more, well, serious track, some very good guitar throughout the song, though who plays what seems to be a closely guarded secret. Marilyn's voice here is more ragged, raunchy and you can hear her love for rhythm and blues coming through, very sultry and with a lot more swagger. My old friends Terry Britten and Graham Lyle, who so damned the first half of the recently-reviewed “Break every rule” for Tina Turner, are back to pen another weak song for Marilyn, and again “Best is yet to come” is almost worth skipping, though at least the title does hint at the truth. Very dancy, very bland, very Britten/Lyle. Thankfully, that all changes with the introduction of “Quiet desperation”, the first of two ballads on the album. With a gentle, rippling keyboard melody carrying the tune, this is where Martin shines as she takes it down several notches, cutting back on the raunch and allowing her own naturally smoky sensuality to bleed through, imbuing this song with all the heart and passion she can muster, almost emulating the power and passion of Sam Brown. Lovely emotional little guitar solo and some measured drumming move the track along as it reaches its halfway point, but they never attempt to take it over, and the simple keyboard line drives the song into the instrumental ending, which takes up almost two of the five minutes and change the track runs for. After that tour-de-force, Martin kicks out the stays and rocks out hard for “Lay me down”, perhaps one of the rockiest tracks on the album, and certainly one of the standouts. With a hard guitar and organ opening, it's suffused by pure joy and wild abandon as Marilyn plays the rock chick to perfection, letting her wild side out, her voice rising to meet the highest registers in the song, with some great soul-style backing vocals and a ripping guitar solo. “Love takes no prisoners” scales back the rock a little, with a dance beat but still some decent guitar, a real air of Prince about it, circa “Sign o' the times”, then it's kind of a Huey Lewis mix of pop and AOR for “Try me”, very catchy with some stabbing keyboard chords and a busy bassline. Much of the blame for Martin's lack of success must surely lie with Atlantic, who decided to showcase her talent by releasing two singles from the album, choosing the boring soundalike opener and following it up with “Love takes no prisoners”, thereby giving perhaps people the wrong impression of this artiste, while ignoring better tracks like “Lay me down” and “Homeless”. I don't consider either single to be properly representative of Marilyn Martin, and I really believe they missed an important point, and a chance maybe for her to break big. As it is, we continue on with the boppy “The wait is over”, again quite dancy and with a drumbeat that slightly echoes Phil Collins' “You can't hurry love”, but with some pretty impressive guitar which largely goes unnoticed, and uncredited. The second ballad comes in the form of “Homeless”, where again Marilyn reduces everything to basics, with a quiet digital piano melody almost like someone walking, short, booming percussion and a passionate and aching vocal as she relates the tale of homeless people better than, I believe, “Another day in Paradise” ever managed. With the instrumentation so sparse and measured, it's left to her to carry the song, which she does in a voice almost cracking with emotion, some very nice backing vocals and then a beautiful little burst of Spanish guitar, and the album closes very well on an AOR tune which again recalls the best of Branigan, as “Pretender” brings down the curtain. Dropped by her label, disappointed with her lack of success after her one big shot with Collins on the number one single “Separate lives”, Marilyn Martin went back to her original career as a backup singer, a position from which she had been “discovered” by head of Atlantic Records, Doug Morris, who thought he saw something in her that should be encouraged. Sadly, her attempt to break into the big time faltered after two albums, and she eventually got out of the music business entirely. Nevertheless, though this may not be by any means a perfect album, it's a short glimpse into something that could have been big, a talent that could, perhaps, had it been handled and managed better, have blossomed into something quite remarkable. This could, indeed, have been serious. But it wasn't to be, and after dabbling in the music world for a few years, Marilyn decided her future lay elsewhere. TRACKLISTING 1. Possessive love 2. This is serious 3. Best is yet to come 4. Quiet desperation 5. Lay me down 6. Love takes no prisoners 7. Try me 8. The wait is over 9. Homeless 10. Pretender
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06-17-2012, 06:30 PM | #1347 (permalink) |
Born to be mild
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Here's an old one for ya: this is a band called Marmalade (goes great with the morning toast, the worm is reliably informed!) and a song called “Reflections of my life”.
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06-18-2012, 02:36 AM | #1348 (permalink) |
Born to be mild
Join Date: Oct 2008
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Posts: 26,994
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Hey, what better way to start your week than with a big ol' slice of cheese? Never quite sure where the word came from, when I think about it. Some people love cheese (to eat), and some hate it, but then, you could say that of many foods. Cheese can sometimes make you wince a little, so maybe it's that? If anyone has any information on how we ended up associating cheese with overblown, overdone or over-sentimental music, perhaps they'd drop me a line and let me know? At any rate, this week's selection comes from Berlin, and couldn't be cheesier. From a movie which, though it essentially made a young actor called Tom Cruise, and fuelled a new generation of gung-ho kids who thought they all could fly a fighter aircraft, and that it was the coolest thing in the world, is pretty laughable. The movie basically glorified air combat, and made everyone, not just military nerds and planespotters, suddenly aware of what the Grumman F-14 Tomcat looked like. Take my breath away (Berlin) 1986 Yeah, strange coincidence that this single hit the charts the same year as last week's introductory “Cheese of the week”, Bon Jovi's “You give love a bad name”: guess '86 was a good year for cheese. Or bad, depending on what way you look at it. In fact, glancing at the charts for that year I can see at least a dozen singles in one month that could all qualify as best (or worst) quality Edam. What a year! But back to this selection. So suddenly, everyone and their mother were an expert on US military aircraft, and war was just one big ol' video game, played for kicks. This was all bad enough, given that four years later these selfsame fighter jets would be streaking over the Arabian peninsula, paving the way for the Gulf War and the eventual emergence of George Bush's warmongering progeny. But politics aside, it's still a terrible song. Written by Giorgio Moroder and Tom Whitlock, it's a sappy love anthem which gave Berlin their only hit (number one on both sides of the Atlantic!) and also served to paint them as a soft-rock band, which they are not. From the opening deep breathy synths to the tinkling digital piano to the ridiculously overblown video where Terri Nunn, lead singer with Berlin, stands atop an aircraft that, for some reason, is quite clearly not an F-14, this song has cheese written all over it. Ask anyone about the band Berlin, this is all they'll be able to tell you in nine out of ten cases, but the album this came from was a whole lot better than this. Nunn's voice is beautifully soulful, certainly, and powerful as the jet fighter in the video, with certainly a lot more emotion in it than Cruise ever displayed in the movie, but I can't ever hear the opening chords of this song without inwardly cringing and just quickly turning the dial.
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