Digging Into My Amour

Okay, so The Police's Outlandos D'Amour is one of my favorite albums. You can peruse my previous posts to see what I’m talking about. But beyond a little snooping into criticism about the album, and writing a bit about my "feelings," I haven't really taken much time to research its creation and its reception. So, I decided to go out and dig… and dig… and dig…

Below, you will find the cream of the crop (or at least the three most interesting things I've been able to find).

Early Review

Carson, Tom. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. Rolling Stone 14 Jun. 1979. Rollingstone.com. 16 Feb. 2009 .

Tom Carson's review of Outlandos D'Amour is mostly negative. While he trumpets the energy, complexity and overall technically savvy of the album, he faults it for what he considers lack of heart. Carson claims that the album fails emotionally because The Police come off "posturing as cool art-rockers and heavy, meaningful New Wavers at the same time."

Something About The Music

Mike Alleyne. "White Reggae: Cultural dilution in the record industry." Popular Music and Society 24.1 (2000): 15-30. Research Library. ProQuest. DCCC Library, Lexington. 8 Apr. 2009

This is an interesting article that details the cultural genesis and exploitation of the genre of music known as "reggae." Key amongst Alleyne's points is that the commercialization (commodification) of reggae represents an antithetical force against the very political and artistic purpose of the music. Alleyne defines reggae before analyzing chief architects of the genre and how the music shifted in audience and eventually became co-opted by white artists. A lengthy segment about The Police notes, "observations by the group's members reveal an interesting awareness not only of reggae's peculiar instrumental mechanics but also of the band's own assimilation and reinterpretation of key elements."

Something About Everything

Palmer, Robert. "The Pop Life." The New York Times 7 Oct. 1981. 8 Apr. 2009 .

Palmer's article is a cross between an album review (of Ghost in the Machine) and a short profile. It offers some background information—The Police's hardworking roots, their rise to fame, and pressures from an increasingly anticipatory audience—and notes how "radical a departure" in sound the band's fourth album is from their previous outings. Palmer offers a few snippets from Sting, who claims the new sounds on Ghost in the Machine are a product of the breathing room afforded by the band's success. Sting comments about recording the album: "We really did it to please ourselves."

Where Do I Go From Here?

I'm still not completely satisfied by this bunch. There's more I'd like to know. I'd like to uncover a good book (or two). I will say that the Alleyne article was the best find, and I'm looking forward to writing more about Outlandos D'Amour in regards to it (and what I've already said about the music, the energy, the love). But for now, this will have to do!

Defending My Amour (Redux)

In my last post, My Love, My Outlandos D'Amour, I professed my love for The Police's first album Outlandos D'Amour. I talked about a little kid in a closet listening to a reel-to-reel tape. I talked about dancing like a fool with the stereo cranked up. I even offered a little commentary about how good the album is despite my nostalgic feelings.

But is the album really any good?

One way to determine artistic merit is to turn to the critics. Back in 1979, Tom Carson of Rolling Stone wrote a review of the album, noting that "musically, Outlandos D'Amour has a convincing unity and drive," but "on the emotional level… it all seems somewhat hollow." The album ultimately fails, according to Carson, because "[The Police's] punk pose is no more than a manipulative come-on."

It's safe to say that Carson's review hurts a bit. Where I've always found a satisfying musical treat, he finds a chocolate Easter bunny: pretty on the outside; disappointingly hollow in the middle.

If I were a critic writing in 1979, I might have felt the same way. 1979 saw the release of The Clash's London Calling, a high water mark of punk albums. The punk and new wave movements were in full swing (blood on countless stages to prove it), and the very definition of punk demanded a certain level of asceticism.

The Police were no ascetics.

But does any of that really matter? The opening beats of "So Lonely" are so infectious that I would argue the lyrics take a backseat. The tone of the album is set by the beat and rarely slackens. On a first listen, most people would be so swept away by the energy that they probably wouldn't even remember any of the lyrics! As Debra Rae Cohen notes of The Police's second album, Regatta De Blanc, "such criticisms [as Carson's] are rendered moot by the sheer energy of the band's rhythmic counter-punching."

So, do lyrics even matter when "sheer energy" prevails?

Well, yes they do. And critics aren't the only ones who would say so. My argument is that where Carson finds a "poser" in Sting, I find a literate conflation of punk sensibilities that reflects the inherent instabilities of punk: The Police craft such great music because they approach it with an intentionality that transcends authenticity.

Outlandos D'Amour, as a catalogue of like-minded songs, is about obsession, paranoia, and loneliness. Combined with the hard-driving, infectious beat, the songs become epidemic. "Next To You" is not about being next to someone; it's about not being next to someone. It's about obsession born of rejection. "Roxanne" is an appeal to a prostitute. The speaker offers his pleas of love to coax her off the street—but his persistence implies that she would rather keep hooking than be saved. "Sally (Be My Girl)" is about someone who finds happiness with an inflatable doll because reality disappoints.

In the end, I choose to agree with Susie Goldring from the BBC: "Suicide, abandoned loves, desperation and loneliness…hardly subjects for a pop album." Yet, precisely because the thematic down-notes match the "punky" up-beats, Goldring proclaims "Outlandos D'Amour is not only the first Police album, it's the best."

What can I say?

I may not be a critic, but I know what I love.

I still love this album.

____

Works Cited

Carson, Tom. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. Rolling Stone 14 Jun. 1979. Rollingstone.com. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/thepolice/albums/album/269239/review/6067752/ outlandos_damour).

Cohen, Debra Rae. Rev. of Regatta De Blanc, by The Police. Rolling Stone 13 Dec. 1979. Rollingstone.com. 18 Feb. 2009 (http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/thepolice/albums/album/269240/review/19544195/reggatta_de_blanc).

Goldring, Susie. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. BBC /music and artists 9 Mar. 2007. BBC.com. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/release/889x/).

Kapica, Steve. "My Love, My Outlandos D'Amour." Weblog entry. Teacher Man's World Of Words. 22 Jan. 2009. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://teachermansworldofwords.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-love-my-outlandos-damour.html).

Defending My Amour: A More Critical Look at Outlandos D'Amour

In my last post, I professed my love for Outlandos D'Amour. There was the little kid in the closet listening to a reel-to-reel tape. There was me dancing like a fool. There was even a little commentary about how good the album is despite my nostalgic feelings.

But is the album really any good?

Back in 1979, Tom Carson of Rolling Stone felt "musically, Outlandos D'Amour has a convincing unity and drive," but "on the emotional level… it all seems somewhat hollow." Carson blames Sting for this: "He's so archly superior to the material that he fails to invest it with much feeling."

Sting, by Tom Carson's estimation, is a poser. And posers can't be punks.

In my own post, I mentioned that Sting "was always more literate (and pompous) than the usual bounty of rocker-wanna-be-poets," a comment that is not that much different than Carson's—except for the fact that I was using Sting's lyrical sense positively.

For me, Sting's use of typical rock tropes ("Can't Stand Losing You" and "So Lonely") isn't posing.

It's unadulterated.

Take a look at these lines from "Next To You":

I've had a thousand girls or maybe more
But I've never felt like this before
But I just don't know what's come over me
You took me over, take a look at me

The sentiment in the first line is catchy (reinforced by consistent syllabication to the next line), but typical. It does, however, set up the reversal that comes in the three lines that follow: Something different has resulted from the speaker's interaction with this particular girl. The capper (what substantiates my claim of "unadulterated") is the "You took me over, take a look at me."

This song is about not being able to let go. What was a fling ("just a love affair"), has become a self-destroying obsession.

Here again, "obsession" as a theme in music is nothing new. On Outlandos D'Amour, however, obsession, paranoia, and loneliness become epidemic. "Next To You" is not about being next to someone; it's about not being next to someone. "Roxanne" is an appeal to a prostitute. The speaker offers his pleas of love to coax her off the street—but his persistence implies that she would rather keep hooking than be saved by him. That can't be good—or typical.

Susie Goldring from the BBC agrees: "Suicide, abandoned loves, desperation and loneliness…hardly subjects for a pop album." Yet, precisely because the thematic down-notes match the "punky" up-beats, Goldring proclaims "Outlandos D'Amour is not only the first Police album, it's the best."

Carson's review was, by and large, positive in regards to the music itself. But the emotional flatness in the lyrics left him downbeat: "As entertainment, Outlandos D'Amour isn't monotonous—it's far too jumpy and brittle for that—but its mechanically minded emptiness masquerading as feeling makes you feel cheated, and more than a little empty yourself."

What can I say? I just can't agree. The manic energy of the music itself is perfectly matched with the mania in the lyrics.

All of it is infectious.

And good.

____

Works Cited

Carson, Tom. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. Rolling Stone 14 Jun. 1979. Rollingstone.com. 16 Feb. 2009 ( http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/thepolice/albums/album/269239/review/6067752/ outlandos_damour).

Goldring, Susie. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. BBC /music and artists 9 Mar. 2007. BBC.com. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/release/889x/).

Kapica, Steve. "My Love, My Outlandos D'Amour." Weblog entry. Teacher Man's World Of Words. 22 Jan. 2009. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://teachermansworldofwords.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-love-my-outlandos-damour.html).

My Love, My Outlandos D'Amour

The memory is one I cherish. Mainly because I don't have many vivid childhood memories. The time frame for this one is somewhere between 1978 and 1984.

That puts me somewhere between four and nine…

Here's the memory:

Some neighbors from across the street were having a yard sale. We went over to peruse the junk and found great treasure: two reel-to-reel tape recorders. One was larger than the other. The smaller of the two was "portable" because it had a black plastic strap by which it could be lugged around. My parents bought both of them, one for me and one for my brother.

At the time of our tape recorder acquisition, my older brother Jon had borrowed Outlandos D'Amour from a friend's cool, much older brothers. It was already on heavy rotation in the Kapica household.

Keeping everything ultra hi-fi, I decided to record Outlandos onto my new tape recorder—right from our record player's one crackling speaker.

With my tape recorder, I would close myself in my bedroom closet and listen to The Police. My favorite song? "Be My Girl (Sally)." I would listen to this song over and over again, repeating as best I could the spoken word part-- British accent and all.

There I was, a small boy in a closet, singing a song about a man who finds love with a blow-up doll.

****

Regardless of the memories, Outlandos D'Amour is a great album. Every time I listen to it, I feel like a kid again. Whenever I teach William Carlos Williams's poem, "The Danse Russe," I mention Outlandos. The poem is essentially about those moments of joy (and horror) that we experience when there's no one else around. Williams writes of enjoying some "alone time" in the wee hours of the morning ("Who shall say I am not / the happy genius of my household?").

Whenever I listen to Outlandos-- alone at home, really loud-- I dance like a bloody fool.

And it feels good, and right.

The album is full of great, fast and furious tracks. A majority of the songs deal with typical rock themes of unrequited and spurned love, but Sting, a school teacher turned rocker, was always more literate (and pompous) than the usual bounty of rocker-wanna-be-poets (take that lizard king!). I am particularly fond of "Born in the 50s." True, it speaks of a different generation, but I have always been encouraged by Sting's assertion "We were the class they couldn't teach / Because we knew better."

I'm getting too old to dogmatically remember every song lyric of every album I purchase, but there was a time when this was simply the norm. I can sing-a-long to every single lyric on Outlandos -- while waving my shirt 'round my head nonetheless!

I'll end with this:

Outlandos D'Amour is one of those rare musical finds that will always reduce me to a singin' and dancin' fool.