I was very happy to learn that XTC insisted on recording Nonsuch in England’s green and pleasant land because I needed them to come home so I could test a two-pronged equation that I hope will earn me a shot at the Nobel Prize for Physics. Here’s the first part (please note that all material on this website is protected by copyright laws and if you try to steal my equation I will sue your sorry ass):

XTC+LA=BJ

Oh my! I see that those with filthy minds could misinterpret my equation. Let me spell it out for the perverts in the audience:

XTC+LosAngeles=BadJuju

For those of you who still don’t get it, here’s the plain English version. This first equation is designed to prove that the commercially successful but artistically unsatisfying album Oranges and Lemons was the result of an incompatible energy vortex. The blending of XTC and Los Angeles resulted in bad juju that caused the band to produce subpar results.

The basis of the equation is grounded in fact. Q: What happened to XTC in their previous visit to La-La-Land? A: They had to cancel their show at the Hollywood Palladium because Andy was physically and mentally unable to grace the stage. XTC would never tour again, a development that would wreak long-term havoc on their finances (further aggravated by a manager who screwed them in the ass without the lube). Nine years later, both Colin and Dave had to take a second job at a car rental agency to make it through the Nonsuch sessions without having to file for bankruptcy.

Conclusion: They never should have pushed their luck and made a second trip to L.A.

I must warn readers not to extend the equation beyond the borders of the L.A. metro area. The Skylarking sessions took place near Woodstock and in San Francisco and the result was more than satisfactory. The energy vortex surrounding Woodstock is so powerful that festival-goers didn’t mind fucking in the mud, and at the time of the recording, San Francisco was still a magnet for bohemians instead of the magnet for narcissistic high-tech moguls it is today.

The second equation will be proven or disproven in this review:

XTC+UK=GJ

My working hypothesis is that Nonsuch will benefit from the good juju in England and the good juju will lead to a superior album. Any place in the U.K. would have done, but they wound up recording Nonsuch in Oxfordshire.

Please note that these equations are designed solely for the purpose of explaining the noticeable differences between Oranges and Lemons and Nonsuch. They recorded Mummer and The Big Express in the U.K. and the results were less than satisfying, but that was because the uncontrollable variable known as Andy Partridge used the studio as his personal toy box, thereby dissipating the impact of good old English juju.

*****

It should be noted that other variables impact the quality of an XTC album but those variables are unreliable predictors. One of those squishy factors involves Andy’s relationships with the producers. XTC created one high-quality album when Andy and the producer were at loggerheads (Skylarking) but they also recorded several solid efforts when the relationship was more collaborative (Drums and Wires, Black Sea, English Settlement and the Dukes of Stratosphear releases). Things tended to go haywire when the producer too often deferred to Andy’s judgment (Mummer, The Big Express and Oranges and Lemons). The same is true of the relationship with Virgin; sometimes their interference worked for the better (Skylarking) and sometimes for the worse (Oranges and Lemons).

In the case of Nonsuch, both the twits at Virgin and producer Gus Dudgeon presented certain obstacles. As Andy explained in an interview with Les Inrockuptibles (translated from the original French) “It is a rather sad story, a big melodrama. We were ready two years ago, but our English record company refused all our songs. Then, we were unlucky with the approached producers.”

Andy’s gift for understatement is admirable. The musical director at Virgin rejected all thirty-two songs they presented to him and “threatened that Virgin would drop the band if the band didn’t write an album of twelve Top Ten guaranteed singles” (Wikipedia). Requiring XTC to top Michael Jackson’s record of seven Top Ten hits from Thriller was an absurd demand of an album-oriented band and the boys rightly told the jerk to piss off. A full year passed before Virgin replaced that dickhead with someone who appreciated their work but also pressed them to make the record ASAP.

Hiring a producer proved to be even more of a challenge. The first four choices didn’t work out for various reasons, so they wound up hiring Gus Dudgeon based on his work with the Bonzo Dog Band, ignoring the fact that Dudgeon’s primary claim to fame involved his work with pop darling Elton John. For the most part, Dudgeon was a minor annoyance, (except when he suggested to Andy that he drop “Rook” from the album) but things came to a head during the mixing stage. Dudgeon wanted Andy banned from the premises; Andy showed up anyway. Dudgeon’s first three mixes turned out busts in Andy’s opinion and engineer Barry Hammond sided with Andy. Virgin was called in to mediate the dispute and concluded that Dudgeon’s mixes were indeed bloody awful. They canned his ass on the spot and hired Nick Davis of Genesis fame to complete the work to Andy’s satisfaction. As Hammond proved to be a superb engineer, it took only two-and-a-half weeks for Nick to complete the mix.

The one area that presented no problem whatsoever was hiring a drummer. Dave Mattacks had expressed a desire to work with XTC and happened to have an open spot on his busy schedule at just the right time. For a band that had received very few breaks over the years, Dave Mattacks was the ultimate in godsends.

The good juju was finally working its magic.

*****

“The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead” (Partridge): I’ve been staring at the screen for about ten minutes trying to gather the right words. Let’s try this . . . if someone were to ask me, “What opening track is your all-time favorite?” I would choose this song without hesitation or any trace of doubt. (With “A Hard Day’s Night” in second place).

I fell in love with the song during the intro. The first sound you hear is the familiar sound (if you’re an electric guitarist) of Dave Gregory plugging a live cord into his guitar . . . but interestingly enough, it was the last sound to be recorded:

Andy: . . . although I played the main rhythm guitar in the song, it’s actually Dave doing the plugging in. Because that plugging in didn’t exist, and I thought, “Wow, this song would be great to open the album with, and what would be a great way of opening it is plugging in your electric guitar to get going, to kick off!” And although we already had the playing, because we’d done the track, we didn’t have the plugging in.

So I sent Dave in, and said, “Just crank your amp up, and we’ll tape you plugging your guitar in.” And god, we must have done about 20 or 30 takes of him just plugging in! Because it was, like, too buzzy, not buzzy enough, too clean and you didn’t hear it click into the guitar, or he’d drop it, or whatever. All that fuss just to get something that was almost supposed to be a little piece of verité—“This is going to be an electric song, because here he is, plugging his guitar in.”

Andy immediately enters the picture with the sharply punctuated opening pattern of Dsus2-D-D-G6sus2-G6sus2 and in between the two G6sus chords Dave Mattacks joins the party with a big, booming drum attack, Andy shouts, “Let’s begin!” then blows the everloving crap out of his harmonica while Mattacks whacks his snare like there’s no tomorrow and I shout “Fuck yeah!” Todd Bernhardt nailed it when he said, “It’s a beautiful big sound! I’ve always loved it.” Except for a brief moment when they tone it down a bit in sync with the storyline, that big beautiful sound continues unabated behind Andy’s vocal, which is simply one of the great rock vocals on record. And I love the way they vary the chord pattern in the chorus, tossing in back-to-back diminished chords (Bbdim7 and C#dim) to introduce a prescient touch of darkness to the tale.

The storyline of the ballad could have only emerged from the hyperactive imagination of Andy Partridge:

Actually the name’s from a jack-o-lantern I carved. After Halloween, I stuck it on a fence post in my garden and every day I’d go past it on my way to my composing shed. And every day it would decay a bit more. I felt so sorry for it, I thought I’d make it a hero in a song.

Yeah, so I’d see the rotting head, and I started to think, “What did he do to deserve to be executed—to be put on a spike on Traitor’s Gate here? He did nothing wrong. He was kind of perfect.” And then I thought, “Hmmm, what would happen if there was somebody on Earth who was kind of perfect?” I just started to extrapolate on that idea, and really mess around with it in a kind of Dylanesque way. I thought, “Why don’t I come up with ‘The Ballad of—the ballad of somebody who’s pretty much perfect?” And the more I thought about it, the more I thought, “god, they’d make so many enemies!” You know, if they really encouraged humanity and humaneness and love and sharing and giving, they would really piss off so many people in power, that those people in power would do everything they could to stop them, including killing them!

The first verse and chorus describe a man almost too good to be true, spending his money to help people in contrast to the hoarders in charge of the Roman Catholic Church:

Peter Pumpkinhead came to town
Spreading wisdom and cash around
Fed the starving and housed the poor
Showed the Vatican what gold’s for

But he made too many enemies
Of the people who would keep us on our knees
Hooray for Peter Pumpkin
Who’ll pray for Peter Pumpkinhead?
Oh my!

Peter becomes a threat to The Establishment once the people abandon the twin faiths of religion and consumerism for the rare experience of a politician who engages in straight talk:

Peter Pumpkinhead pulled them all
Emptied churches and shopping malls
Where he spoke, it would raise the roof
Peter Pumpkinhead told the truth

The Establishment responds in predictable fashion, getting down in the mud in an attempt to expose Peter as a man of dubious morality. Instead of denying, spinning or diverting attention from the issue, Peter comes up with the perfect response in a line that Andy sings with justifiable passion:

Peter Pumpkinhead put to shame
Governments who would slur his name
Plots and sex scandals failed outright
Peter merely said
Any kind of love is alright

After exposing the mudslingers as hypocrites extraordinaire, the powerful conclude that more drastic measures are called for:

Peter Pumpkinhead was too good
Had him nailed to a chunk of wood
He died grinning on live TV
Hanging there he looked a lot like you
And an awful lot like me!

But he made too many enemies . . .

Just like Jesus. Just like JFK. Just like MLK. Andy appropriately ends the song with “Oh my oh my oh! Doesn’t it make you want to cry oh?”

What makes me want to cry is the sad truth that Peter Pumpkinhead does not exist in the world today and our corrupted democracies force us to choose between Trump or Biden and Macron or LePen.

The official video is both moving and occasionally disturbing, integrating images of the crucifixion with a re-enactment of JFK’s assassination. A Jackie-look-alike waves to the crowds wearing her pink suit and pillbox hat, but in keeping with Peter’s more modest values (and XTC’s modest budget), they ride in an old Ford convertible instead of a limo. Images of Marilyn Monroe appear from time to time, making me wonder how JFK would have responded had his many dalliances been exposed during his lifetime. It would have been super cool if he had gone on television, admitted his affairs and said, “Any kind of love is alright, and by the way, it’s none of your fucking business!” Alas, it’s more likely that he would have developed a damage control response along the lines of Bill Clinton.

Anyway, just in case the YouTube Police prevent you from watching the video here, you can follow this link.

Though it brings up issues that we’d rather avoid, “The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead” is a lyrical and musical masterpiece played tightly and with palpable energy—a grand opening if there ever was one.

“My Bird Performs” (Moulding): After offering three downers on Oranges and Lemons, it seems that a lengthy stretch basking in the good juju of Swindon put Colin in a much better mood. Colin described the piece as “A happy-with-my-lot song” while Andy pronounced it “The best melody that Paul Simon never wrote.” I’m going to assume that the bird in question is Colin’s wife Carol and not a budgie because I’m still traumatized by Joe Strummer’s closing line in “The Magnificent Seven”: “News Flash: Vacuum Cleaner Sucks up Budgie.”

The lyrical structure is a compare-and-contrast involving what Colin might define as “finery” with the simple life he chooses to live in Swindon, beginning with “Fine art never moved my soul/No vintage wine and designer clothes.” His second example takes issue with the Bard: “Shakespeare’s sonnets leave me cold/The drama stage and the high-brow prose.” Our only point of agreement is “designer clothes,” but to each his own, sayeth I. Colin prefers his life at home where his “bird sings sweetly,” giving him a feeling superbly described as “A thousand Cheshire cats/Grin inside of me.”

The music is set to a nice, easy ramble with arpeggiated guitars and some fine work by Mattacks on the kit. One positive aspect of hiring Gus Dudgeon to produce the album is that the guy had made a ton of connections in the music business and was able to land the superb jazz musician and session man Guy Barker to provide lovely counterpoints on flugelhorn and trumpet that enlarge the soundscape to the nth degree without going overboard. The most important contrast in play here involves its placement between two fairly energetic Partridge performances, a brilliant display of the art of track ordering.

“Dear Madam Barnum” (Partridge): My goodness! Was Andy feeling it or what? Brimming with justifiable confidence, he delivers another outstanding vocal in a marvelous composition featuring a catchy melody, poignant lyrics and two distinct bridges marked by chord changes that contrast beautifully with the simpler verse progression while somehow managing to achieve perfect resolution. Bravo!

“Dear Madam Barnum” was originally written for a Russell Crowe film, but as is often the case with XTC, things didn’t pan out. Andy was asked to write a song that reflected the music of 1965 that one of the characters would play on a jukebox while the actors dined or had a drink. “So, I thought, ‘Hmm, what does 1965 say to me? It says ‘Folk Rock’. You know, at that point, Dylan is starting to influence just about everything, from the Beatles downwards. I thought, ‘Well, I’ll come up with something that’s got a Beatles/Dylan/Byrds, acoustic-driven shuffle to it.'” That’s pretty much the music you hear in the verses and the first bridge, but when it came time to record the song for Nonsuch, Andy thought, “No, I want to have a little mischief. I’m going to change it, and make it different chords, different melody.” The key chord progressions look like this:

• Verses: C-F-Em G (6)
• Chorus: C-F-Em-G (2) + Cadd9
• First Bridge: Fm-Ab-C-Fdim-D-G (leading back to the C root)
• Second Bridge: Am-Bbmaj7-Dm-Em-G (leading back to C root)

Despite the unusual departures (the flip to locrian with the Fdim and Bbmaj7), the song never loses its essential flow. The rhythms are equally complex but remarkably steady, thanks to the Partridge/Mattacks partnership:

. . . Mattacks and I had quite a long conversation on the rhythm feel for this song. It’s a very straight, old-fashioned structured song, so I said I wanted him to play with a real straight backbeat, but I wanted him to put a little skip-and-drag in there that fell somewhere between dotted [time] and straight, because we both agreed that we liked the tension where you get dotted vs. straight, and straight vs. dotted. So, instead of going boom-dah, boom-dah, he’s going, boom-boom duh-DAH, boom-boom duh-DAH — those little dotted mini-hits before the back beat. And once he started doing that, it was like, “Yep — that’s it! Don’t stop — that’s the rhythm.”

The result is one brilliant (and mischievous) musical composition. The arrangement is equally stunning, as demonstrated in this instrumental-only take on YouTube. The balance between the guitars, Dave’s Hammond organ, the synthesized calliope, and background vocals is spot-on, and most importantly, the Steven Wilson remix gives greater prominence to Colin’s marvelous bass performance and additional tonal clarity to Dave Mattack’s snare (one of twenty he brought to the party).

Obviously the über metaphor involves the circus, and though there is no evidence that P.T. Barnum ever uttered the phrase “There’s a sucker born every minute,” myth is often more enduring than truth, which allows us to conclude that Madam Barnum is a manipulative, self-serving wench. P.T. did say that “Clowns are the pegs on which the circus is hung,” and in this case, the clown is hung out to dry:

I put on a fake smile
And start the evening show
The public is laughing
I guess by now they know
So climb from your high horse
And pull this freak show down
Dear Madam Barnum
I resign as clown

You said I was the master of all I surveyed
But now I’m sweeping up
The last in line in your circus parade

Ah! Another tale of a man humbled by a deceitful bitch! Andy cleverly employs a classic clown move to let us in on the method of humiliation:

If I’m not the sole fool
Who pulls his trousers down
Then dear Madam Barnum
I resign as clown

Hmm. Sounds like the Madam is guilty of serial sexual harassment, “Making conditions of employment or advancement dependent on sexual favors, either explicitly or implicitly.” She probably bonked the lion tamer, using his whip to remind him who’s the boss, and I have no doubt that she would have gone after the acrobats and enjoyed every position in the Kama Sutra.

Okay, I think I’ve taken the circus metaphor far enough, so I’ll turn things over to Andy and let him explain the curious mix of music and lyrics:

TB: The other thing I wanted to ask you about was the funny juxtaposition of the very happy, bouncy music along with this rather dark subject.

AP: Oh, you have to do that! If you have miserable music with miserable lyrics, it often doesn’t work — it’s “too much miserable.” It’s like the ingredients are out of balance. But if you have quite light music with a sad lyric, it can be really poignant. And vice-versa—quite miserable music with a happy lyric. There’s a great sweet-and-sour poignancy to those things, whether it’s in books or films or music. You know, you mix the happy and the sad together, and it’s somehow more effective than just, “Okay, let’s lay on the sad with a trowel.” It’s too much sour—“Bleargh, I can’t eat that.” But if it’s just got enough sugar in it that you think, “Ooh, this is nice,” then suddenly, “Oh . . . my . . . god!“

That, my friends, is a songwriter well-versed in his craft.

“Humble Daisy” (Partridge): From the press release for Nonsuch (quoted on Wikipedia): “Unlike previous XTC albums, Partridge composed many of his songs on Nonsuch using the keyboard, an instrument Partridge referred to as ‘this grinning shark; stroke its teeth and any minute it’ll swallow you up.’ He said he was so unfamiliar with the keyboard that he played it ‘by drumming on it, two fingers here, two fingers there.'”

A surprising number of musicians find the piano a daunting proposition, regardless of their preferred instrument. Dizzy Gillespie constantly preached about the virtues of the piano to jazz musicians (“Learn to play the piano, man, and then you can figure out crazy solos of your own”) but few took him up on the invitation. I share Dizzy’s contrary wiring; shortly after I started taking piano lessons, I gained a deep appreciation for Bartolomeo Cristofori’s invention and its simple, clearly visible organizational pattern. By contrast, I think standard guitar tuning is the most fucked-up concept in music history and I nearly always have to watch my fingers when I’m playing.

Given his unease with the grinning shark and his four-fingered approach, I think Virgin was engaging in a bit of hyperbole in claiming he “composed” the songs on a keyboard. After reading all the Nonsuch interviews with Bernhardt, I think it would be more accurate to say that “Andy stumbled some interesting motifs and chord patterns on a keyboard and then fleshed out the ideas on acoustic guitar.” The chords on “Humble Daisy” feature diminished and augmented chords that are usually easier to play on a keyboard, but in this case, the guitar fingering patterns are quite accessible on the guitar and unlikely to give the player a temporary case of arthritis.

The sheer beauty of the chord pattern is easy to pick out by focusing your attention on Dave Gregory’s guitar in the right channel, where he alternates between slow strum and bright arpeggios highlighting the individual notes. The melody is challenging, complex and ultimately satisfying as Andy carefully mingles gentle tones, variable phrasing and sweet falsetto runs. Colin’s bass is warm and exploratory, taking advantage of the veritable cascade of notes in each chord and occasionally departing from the usual root note emphasis. Mr. Gregory also supplied the synthesized horns that help set the wistful mood in the opening passage, and Dave Mattacks responds to the essential gentleness of the piece by applying a brush to the hi-hat and cymbals. The music is gorgeous and quite compelling.

As for the lyrics, don’t even bother to try to suss out the meaning. “There’s a wonderful field where I walk my dog and overnight these big daisies came up. So the song’s in praise of that glorious weed. As for some of the words, I have no idea what they mean—but they’re pictorially gorgeous,” said the songwriter. The poetic “music” can be found in the frequent use of alliteration and the “dream fragment” imagery.

“The Smartest Monkeys” (Moulding): True to my San Francisco origins, I don’t think a day goes by when a burst of disgust with the human race dominates my thoughts, particularly when it comes to the refusal of our so-called leaders to eliminate homelessness once and for all. Don’t tell me you can’t fucking afford it, you assholes—renounce your fetish with building armaments and making war and you could house everyone on the planet.

While my never-written song about homelessness would be filled with every obscenity available in at least four languages, Colin chose to take a more subtle and likely more effective approach:

Well man created the cardboard box to sleep in it
And man converted the newspaper to a blanket
Well you have to admit that he’s come a long way
Since swinging about in the trees

We’re the smartest monkeys
The smartest monkeys
The evidence is all around
Our brains are bigger
This we’ve found
The smartest monkeys

Well,  man discovered the park bench can make a transition
And the rubbish tip makes a valid form of nutrition
With discoveries like these
Civilisation agrees
To give itself a pat on the back

Disgusting, painfully true and very well-written. The eerie opening passage combining bass-on-echo and Dave’s synth bits is exceptionally compelling. The song proper is set to an exciting rhythmic combination of stereo guitars and power-packed drums, somewhat reminiscent of the rhythmic approach of “Making Plans for Nigel.” The instrumental passage of double guitars engaging in competing arpeggios is also a treat, though I was quite surprised to hear a Rick Wakeman-like synth solo on an XTC record. I also appreciate the REAL viola played by Florence Lovegrove.

My sole gripe is entirely personal: in the final verse, Colin chooses to change the topic to another form of dehumanization—hired hands cramming bodies into a subway car when the train arrives: “We brought the caveman from the stone age/To the subways of the modern world/How they pack so many in/Quick call the Guinness Book of Records.” I really didn’t want to be reminded of that practice WHEN I’M HEADING TO TOKYO NEXT MONTH.

“The Disappointed” (Partridge): This song earned Andy his first Ivor Novello nomination, but he lost out to Annie Lennox. Nonsuch was nominated for a Grammy and also fell short.

I knew the Grammies were bullshit but I didn’t know much about the Novello Awards so I scrolled through the list on Wikipedia from 1955-2023 and concluded the Novellos were bullshit, too. Other than three wins by Radiohead and Jarvis Cocker’s “Common People,” most of the nominated songs and albums were crap. I noticed a pattern similar to the Grammies: if you win once, you’re put on their A-list and you’ll continue to receive nominations and awards long past your prime.

If you’re keeping track at home, the Grammy score is Taylor Swift 49, XTC 0. In this ridiculous game, the lowest score wins. XTC should be very, very proud of their perfect score.

“The Disappointed” was the highest-charting single from the album in the U.K., a remarkable achievement indeed, considering that the video for the song is by far the worst video ever produced. I was delighted to find that Andy completely agreed with my assessment. You know how much fun it is to watch Ed Wood movies and laugh at the incredible fuck-ups? Well, this video is so bad it could result in lifelong trauma. I’m not including a link because I could get sued for inflicting my readers with severe brain damage.

Too bad, because the song is a fine piece of work that more than deserved proper promotion. Though the lyrical appeal to the masses is apparent in its “Broken Hearts Club” theme, the songwriter had many disappointments on his mind at the time of composition: “I think there are big dollops of different things. My marriage, my disappointment with that, is in there. I think the disappointment with the musical career, with not getting the recognition that I thought we were due, and certainly not getting the financial recompense that we were due, is in there. All that genuine disappointment filtered into this.”

While it is true that the band members bear some responsibility for their misfortunes, during the twelve-plus years of writing reviews I’ve studied the histories of many musicians, and few come close to competing with XTC when it comes to bad luck. Yes, they could be wildly inconsistent but there is no doubt in my mind that they were the most talented and original artists of the 80s and early 90s. It’s a crime that they have little to show for it in terms of financial security.

Back to the song, Andy wanted “a really distinctive roll” to open the song, and Dave Mattacks responded with a reverse roll from the low toms to the snare. The next rhythmic challenge involved the drummer’s admitted inability to produce a shuffle, and the song is 95% shuffle. That obstacle was overcome by choosing the “best bits” and patching them together. Mattacks also had to reproduce the offbeat triplet high-hats recorded on a drum machine for the demo because Gus Dudgeon insisted on it and managed to pull off that trick with aplomb. Combined with the solid support from Andy’s chugging-and-crashing rhythm guitar, Dave’s contrasting arpeggios and Colin’s solid bass, the final product is a swinging, swaying rhythmic delight.

Andy’s vocal combines wordless falsetto segments that appear throughout the song with an exceptionally smooth delivery in the verses (which also end with a falsetto leap). Some critics chose to label the use of falsetto as a nod to the Beach Boys; Colin told Neville Farmer, “It sounds like the Four Seasons to me.” As far as I know, neither Brian Wilson, Frankie Valli, Lou Christie nor Del Shannon patented the use of falsetto and I find such comparisons quite irritating. Andy went there because it beautifully expanded the melody’s range and strengthened the composition.

The songs on Nonsuch are full of delightful extras that enhance the listening experience and “The Disappointed” is no exception. Andy occasionally complements his lead vocal by singing phrases in low unison, low harmony or complementary harmony; Florence Lovegrove makes an encore appearance with her viola, smoothing the rough edges and strengthening the build; and you can always count on Dave Gregory to select the right moment to introduce synth-driven counterpoints.

“Holly Up on Poppy” (Partridge): Grrr! Speaking of disappointment, I’m seriously pissed off that Steven Wilson eliminated the cross-fades in his remix of Nonsuch and stunned that Andy approved those modifications. I LOVE the cross-fade from “The Disappointed” to “Holly Up on Poppy”! What’s weird is that Andy presented a strong defense of cross-fades in the Todd Bernhardt interview for “The Disappointed” while revealing his acute understanding of the album as an art form:

TB: So, let’s talk about that—“In defense of cross-fades, by Andy Partridge.”

AP: Listening to an album is an event. It’s a film. It’s a play. It’s reading a book. You wouldn’t read chapter nine first, then jump to chapter two—you read the book the way the author intended you to read it, from page one to page last. You watch a film from scene one to scene end. You hear a collection of music on an album from track one to the last track. It’s like saying that there should be one or two seconds of blank screen in between every major scene in a film. No! Some scenes cross-fade. Some scenes are blank. Some scenes dissolve.

It’s how you’re pulled through the experience. It’s the order we want you to hear it in, the way we’d like you to hear it. The fact that one blurs into another—that’s intended! That’s not some weird accident that happens at the pressing plant! He must think that it’s some terrible disease that has infested all of our records, that we have no control over the cross-fading. No, you fucker! I want it to happen that way!

Yes, SIR! Understood, SIR!

I’m not sure how “emphatic” became “whatever,” but I’ve lodged my complaint so let’s get on with it. This is a charming little song about little Holly Partridge riding the rocking horse she christened Poppy. Andy loves watching her and wishes he could spend more time enjoying the show:

Holly up on Poppy . . .
Everytime I look at my watch
I’m reminded we are poor in hours per day

Every second spent with her
‘s a bulging wallet overstuffed
With angels pay
Laughter!

The real star in this song is Dave Gregory, whose organ and synth arrangement is equally enchanting. I’m on record as not being much of a fan when it comes to the organ but Dave has consistently demonstrated its value and potential in several XTC songs, so I’ve moved from “meh” to “how nice!”

“Crocodile” (Partridge): Andy called this “The most basic thing on the album—a noisy pop song about jealousy” and that about wraps it up.

“Rook” (Partridge): Experiencing a severe case of writer’s block that left him unable to compose for three months, Andy began to wonder if he’d written his last song. “I was in the state of mind where I was desperate to write songs, but couldn’t. Then, one day, I found this chord change on the guitar—I don’t know where it came from—and I thought, ‘Oh, that’s really nice. That almost sounds like a piano. Hey, let me work out what the notes would be on the piano!'”

The pattern he worked out was a slowly rising and falling sequence of 13th and 11th chords—dark, ominous, dissonant chords that expressed his deepest fears. As he played the pattern over and over, words began to tumble out: “I don’t know where the words came from, but I started to sing ‘Rook.’ And I was in floods of tears!”

One should never underestimate the evocative power of music. As Joni Mitchell perceptively noted, “Chords are emotions.” Andy claimed that he didn’t understand the lyrics he wrote, but that claim was likely driven by a reluctance to face some of his fears. When I read the lyrics for the first time I immediately locked into the meaning, probably due to my own experiences with depression.

Fear of Death:

Rook, rook
Read from your book
Who murders who and where is the treasure hid?
Crow, crow
Spill all you know
Is that my name on the bell?

What Is the Meaning of Life? (or What Is the Meaning of My Life?)

Soar up high, see the semaphore from the washing lines
Break the code of the whispering chimneys and traffic signs
Where’s the message that’s written under the base of clouds?
Plans eternal, I know you know, so don’t blurt out loud
Rook, rook
By hook or by crook
I’ll make you tell me what this whole thing’s about!

Fear of the Finality of Death (or What’s the Point of Knowledge If It Dies with You?)

On the wings of night, I fly too, above field and stream
My head bursting with knowledge ’till I wake from the dream
If I die and I find that I had a soul inside
Promise me that you’ll take it up on its final ride

Such gloomy thoughts could only be accompanied by gloomy music. The use of 3/4 time serves to strengthen the dark music by creating a “Death Waltz” effect.

As there was no way in hell Andy could have played the piano part with two fingers here and two fingers there, he was fortunate to have a partner in Dave Gregory:

DG: Among my very favourite of all Andy’s songs is the mysterious and intriguing “Rook,” which he demoed in September 1990 as part of the collection that would make up the Nonsuchalbum the following year. Exactly what the song is about I couldn’t say, though a doomy portent of his own mortality, wrapped up in the dark metaphorical plumage of a carrion bird, is what it always suggested to me. The lyric is perfectly complemented by the plodding, ominous piano chords, which suddenly take flight in the verse sections like a startled flock of birds. I could hardly believe my ears when I first heard it, and I’m still astonished at the relatively simple way he’d constructed the chord sequences, proving that one drop of pure inspiration is worth more than a sea of sweat and tears . . .

Once Andy had told me how the chords had been constructed, I set about deconstructing them and notating them, to see if they could be played. And, after several weeks’ practice, yes they could! I would sit with the part just for the sheer joy of playing it, and couldn’t wait to get into a studio and hear how it sounded on a professional grand piano. I made one small alteration to the choruses by omitting the octave note below the top melody line [see the manuscripts in the photo section]; I felt the movement lacked definition, as the chords played in that area of the keyboard sounded very muddy. So the finished choruses have a five-note chord.

In addition to Dave’s somber piano, Guy Barker returned with flugelhorn and trumpet in hand, giving the piece a solemn stateliness. The addition of a string quartet was a great idea . . . until they discovered that the cellist lacked the necessary skills. Dave and Andy came up with a workaround with the synthesizer, so what you hear is a 50/50 mix of strings and synth.

You probably wouldn’t put “Rook” in the playlist for your upcoming soirée, but it is a beautifully written and deeply felt mood piece that ranks among Andy’s best compositions.

“Omnibus” (Partridge): Oops. This sounds like it belongs on Oranges and Lemons—too busy. Andy described the song as one “In praise of women. They’re wondrous.” I agree that we are indeed wondrous, but the only wonders Andy mentions in the song are the wondrous boners we inspire. This was also intended to encourage Dave Gregory to find a mate, but once he found out what the song was about he had a hell of a time getting his parts down—not pants, but parts.

“That Wave” (Partridge): Oddly enough, I didn’t care much for this song until I heard the cover by the British indie band Fassine. Lead singer Sarah Palmer has a beautiful voice that combines carefully attenuated power, subtle eroticism and a touch of the ethereal. Andy comes on too strong and his attempt at elucidation of the word “mouth” comes out as “MOWWWWTH” and gives me the creeps. The real highlight in the original is Dave Gregory’s rare extended guitar solo near the end of the song, which Andy perfectly described as “a fantastic tumbling solo that came scorching at you out of the stratosphere.”

“Then She Appeared” (Partridge): In the Todd Bernhardt interview for “Then She Appeared,” Andy spent most of his time explaining the twisty path that led to the song’s inclusion on Nonsuch while doing his best to distance himself from his composition. It ended up on Nonsuch because Gus Dudgeon insisted it was a sure-fire hit that should be released as a single (it wasn’t) and Andy allowed himself to get caught up in the producer’s enthusiasm.

Listeners with no access to the pre-Nonsuch demos and takes will likely identify the song as a perfect fit for the Dukes of Stratosphear with its jangly guitar arpeggios, “fake Mellotron” (the trusty Proteus), sitar patch (courtesy of Dave Mattacks) and its otherworldly lyrics. Since the thin line separating XTC from the Dukes had been blurred into nothingness, “Then She Appeared” is a perfect fit for Nonsuch, wisely placed between two darker tracks to retain the album’s balance between dark and light.

Andy did tinker with the lyrics before release, indulging in his love of punning to give us “Catherine wheeled and senses frazzled” and “All Edward leared/Then she appeared.” The insertions may not make much sense but the whimsical nature of the song allows for plenty of artistic license. The “She” is one of the magical women who popped up frequently in psychedelic music, “apple venus on a half-open shell,” “pale Atlantis rising out of the west,” “brittle shooting star that dropped in my lap.”

In the end, even Andy had to admit “I wouldn’t hold it up there as one of my top 20 songs, but I think it has a charm.” I find the song quite delightful, and once you wend your way through the guitar arpeggios you’ll find a lovely bass part courtesy of Mr. Moulding and an intricate but spot-on drum performance by Mr. Mattacks.

“War Dance” (Moulding): Colin originally wrote this piece in protest of the Falklands mess but held it back because “it was too much on one piece of history.” He kept the song in cold storage until another war broke out, and sure enough, the U.K. simply had to get involved in the Persian Gulf War because they didn’t want their former colony to hog the limelight. Colin tweaked the lyrics and came up with a pretty decent anti-war ditty. The most effective verse is the last, based on the sickening truth that history repeats itself:

There’s a cheap sensation
Keeping Fleet Street wide awake
Everyone wants a slice of
The jingoistic cake
And they’re resurrecting Churchill
And bringing national service back
Fueling power and glory fever
Makes for a sicker Union Jack

Andy’s one regret involved the use of a synthesized clarinet. “I wish we’d done it with a real clarinet. It’s too exposed. It sounds like a singing penis.” (Farmer, p. 271) In response, I have to lodge a protest against Andy’s metaphor. I’ve hosted hundreds of penises in my life and never once did I hear one burst out in melody. Goo, yes. Melody, no.

“Wrapped in Grey” (Partridge): Within the context of XTC’s history, there are few songs that had as much impact as “Wrapped in Grey” . . . unfortunately for all the wrong reasons. I’ll deal with that aspect in my closing remarks.

Andy composed the song entirely on the Proteus keyboard, but when it came time to record, he passed the torch to Dave Gregory, a far more skilled pianist. Dave also contributed background vocals (along with Colin) and wrote the exceedingly beautiful string arrangement. Still lacking a competent cellist, the boys had to employ the Proteus to compensate.

When I took a look at the chord pattern, I found myself befuddled. Several brave music warriors have offered interpretations of the chord pattern and all are partly right and partly wrong, largely due to the variety of voicings. I also had a devil of a time figuring out the song’s key, a rather important detail because there is obviously a key change in the chorus. Working backward from the easy-to-spot key of F# major in the chorus, I eventually cast my vote for B minor in the intro and verses and found validation for my theory on the site “Modulation of the Day” which advertises itself as “All key changes/all the time/all genres/all eras.” Here’s what the folks working at this fabulous resource had to say about “Wrapped in Grey”: “Drenched with harmonic tensions from its opening, the tune starts in B minor, transitioning to F# major for the chorus from 1:19 – 1:57; the cycle then repeats.”

Those harmonic tensions and Andy’s tendency to use an enhanced chord instead of a straight chord threw me off. Here’s the intro-and-verse chord pattern and voicings I decided was the best of the lot, courtesy of XTC fan Gianluigi Alari on chalkhills.org:

• Dmaj7-Cmaj7-Dmaj7-Cmaj7-Dmaj7-E3-E2-Asus2 (4)
• E2-Bm7-E4-C#m7
• E5-Dmaj7-Dbsus4(omit 5)-Db7
• E-2-Bm7-E-4-C#m7
• E-5-Dmaj7-Bm7(/E)-E
• Aadd11-Cmaj7
• Bbmaj7-G

Some of those chords have no business attaching themselves to a key of B minor, and therein lies much of the harmonic tension. As Andy probably couldn’t identify half the chords in that pattern, you can consider “Wrapped in Grey” a sterling example of “chords are emotions” that also highlights the value of Andy’s synesthesia, as he hears chords as colors.

The chords are a perfect match for the verse lyrics, as the tension is exceptionally strong in the morose opening lines, eases up a bit in lines 3 through 6 and manifests itself in mixed emotions of humility and a faint sense of hope in the closing couplet:

Some folks see the world as a stone
Concrete daubed in dull monotone
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas we’re dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
How coloured the flowers all smelled
As they huddled there, in petalled prayer
They told me this, as I knelt there

During the intro, the strings appear briefly on the second pass, disappearing before Andy begins his vocal. Colin enters at the start of the third line to provide a deeply satisfying bottom; the strings return in the fifth line, expanding their reach and raising the sense of anticipation. The music softens during the last two lines, fading to Dave’s DmA7-Cmaj7 (3) pattern, creating the expectation that the second verse will soon follow—but it’s a feint! The strings return on the final Cmaj7 and Dave leads the way in a rising chord pattern of Asus2 and A+sus2 as the strings gather volume, beautifully landing on the root chord of the new key in F#major.

The effect is like the dawn rising triumphantly from the darkness, and I always feel the tears coming when I hear that transition . . . and the message Andy delivers in the chorus is so . . . beautiful:

Awaken you dreamers
Adrift in your beds
Balloons and streamers
Decorate the inside of your heads
Please let some out
Do it today
But don’t let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey

The composition eases back into the verse pattern, where Andy chooses to keep lines three through five (that’s the painter talking), eliminates lines five and six and varies the opening couplet and closing line:

Some folks pull this life like a weight
Drab and dragging dreams made of slate
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas we’re dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
Just think how the old masters felt, they call . . .

You hardly notice that the composition has now become unbalanced with the disappearance of those two lines, but genius knows no boundaries. In the second round of the chorus, Andy continues to shake things up in two ways. He changes the emphasis from human possibility to human stagnation, identifying the workplace as the main source of mental stasis, then replaces the joyous images of balloons and streamers with symbols of conformity and docility he defines as “grotesque”. The implication is that positive change isn’t all “balloons and streamers” but a journey that requires us to deal with the ugliness of current reality.

Awaken you dreamers
Asleep at your desks
Parrots and lemurs
Populate your unconscious grotesques
Please let some out
Do it today
Don’t let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey

The closing lines are something of a copout (“And in the very least you can/Stand up naked and/Grin”), an unnecessary p.s. that Andy inserted because he “. . .  just wanted to deflate any kind of pomposity that the song may have had up to that point!” I can understand his fear of becoming some kind of pop guru, but the empathy he demonstrates in “Wrapped in Grey” counters any accusations of pomposity.

“The Ugly Underneath” (Partridge): I wish Steven Wilson had inserted a few more seconds of silence after “Wrapped in Grey” to allow me time to savor that masterpiece, but he didn’t and my initial reaction to “The Ugly Underneath” was bitchingly negative. I came around after taking an hour-long break to create the necessary separation between exquisite beauty and the ugly underneath.

Lyrically, the song is an oddly appropriate follow-up to “Wrapped in Grey” as it explores the grotesque side of humanity presented in the previous track’s second verse. Andy’s aggressive vocal and no-bullshit lyrics form the equivalent of a sharpened scalpel designed to cut through the many façades human beings use to disguise the truth and deceive those around them:

First, there’s the handshake, it’s so warm that you could bake by it
Designed to take attention from their Ugly Underneath

Then there’s the wedding, the coordinated bedding
And the fairy tale shredding, boy, it’s Ugly Underneath

And after the pretty, there’s a gluttony of pity
On a cake called “nitty-gritty” and it’s Ugly Underneath . . .

Of course, no exploration of human deception would be complete without a reference to politics:

The thing with politicians is I wouldn’t have suspicions
If I saw their worst positions and their Ugly Underneath
But after all the voting, suck away the sugar coating
Now they’ve had you and they’re gloating, boy, it’s Ugly Underneath

This is Andy in “Dear God” mode, urging listeners to wake up and smell the stinkweeds that try to pass themselves off as roses. His commentary on the song reveals crystal-clear intent: “You must be prepared to take off the mask. You must see the ugly to be beautiful. The sugar sweet can become ugly too, like in marriage or politics.”

The music is dominated by distorted tremolo guitar, a sound created through ingenuity and a skimpy recording budget: “I remember doing the tremolo effect on this demo by rubbing the fader up and down in time. You had to make your own fun in those days.” As one who grew up in the era of digital audio workstations that could create that kind of sound with a few clicks, I am forever impressed by the workarounds employed in the pre-digital era. Those studio tricks involved serious, high-quality ingenuity.

The extended fade involves a major sound shift from recording studio to church, where Dave uses the organ to transform the melody into what sounds like something out of the hymnal. I interpret the music as a wordless dig at the façades embedded in various faiths, but I’m an atheist, so what the fuck do I know.

“Bungalow” (Moulding): Sorry, but in preparation for my bye-bye review I’ve had The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack playing in the background, so when I hear this song I think “Time Warp!”

Colin referred to the music as “Very seaside-y and cheesy organ, like something a cruddy trio in holiday camp might play.” I heard hints of Rudy Vallée and peak Noel Coward in the interregnum between the two World Wars—the filter on his voice in the opening passages gives the impression of a megaphone channeled into a primitive mic, and Colin did admit to Neville Farmer that he “hammed up the voice to sound a bit like Noel Coward.” (Farmer, p. 273) The sense of melodrama is heightened by the sound of a choir, a mix of band member voices and a patch of a male Welsh choir that Dave had in his possession.

Andy said “This is one of my favourite things Colin’s written,” a comment I found a bit odd until I learned about the backstory. Lacking that knowledge, I initially interpreted the lyrics as a throwback version of Eddie Money’s “Two Tickets to Paradise.”

Luxury accommodation traps the sun
So we’re working every hour that God made
So we can fly away
Saving it all up for you—bungalow

Bungalow by the sea
Bungalow
Silver shoreline
In the gorse
You can be mine
Standing prime position for the town
Working for a vision through this life
So we can fly away—bungalow

Okay, so they’re saving up for a trip to the beach. How nice! Then I read Colin’s explanation of the song’s origins: “It was really my parents’ dream to save all their lives and retire to a seaside bungalow. Of course, they never did.” How terribly sad! Now the song takes on a cast similar to the Kinks’ “Oklahoma U.S.A.”: “All life we work but work is a bore/If life’s for livin’ then what’s livin’ for?”

I now understand where Andy was coming from and hereby pronounce “Bungalow” one of Colin’s best efforts.

“Books Are Burning” (Partridge): Andy staked out a very clear position on the subject of book burning: “I love books, they’re sacred objects, and anyone who destroys them is scum. Usually it’s frightened regimes, their way of saying we’re in control. But what they stand for doesn’t have a hope in hell. To destroy thoughts, dreams, and an attempt to communicate is a crime.”

Meanwhile, in the land of the free and home of Christian maniacs . . .

In February 2021 some religious communities in the United States have started holding book-burning ceremonies to garner attention and publicly denounce heretical beliefs. In Tennessee pastor Greg Locke has held sermons over the incineration of books like Harry Potter and Twilight. This trend of calling for the burning of books one’s ideology conflicts with has continued into the political sphere. Two members of a Virginia school board Rabih Abuismail, and Kirk Twigg, have condoned the burning of recently banned books to keep their ideas out of the minds of the public. In September 2023, Missouri State Senator and gubernatorial candidate Bill Eigel showed off a flamethrower at a campaign event and vowed to burn “woke pornographic books […] on the front lawn of the governor’s mansion” if elected.

And if a religious arsonist is unavailable, Christian Nationalists in control of the red states use their power to remove books from public libraries. One more example of why I will never set foot in my country of origin again.

The fatwa issued by Ayatollah Khomeini to encourage both book-burning and the murder of Salman Rushdie supplied the spark that triggered Andy’s hot buttons and motivated him to write the song. Strange as it seems, he couldn’t come up with music to accompany his message until he started “dicking about with learning the Beach Boys’ ‘I Get Around’. I just loved the change from G to an E7 with an A flat bass. Thanks Bri.”

Andy’s argument is clear, succinct and deeply disturbing:

Books are burning
In the main square, and I saw there
The fire eating the text
Books are burning
In the still air
And you know where they burn books
People are next

That’s what the Nazis did to the Jews and that’s what American Christian Fundamentalists would love to do to LBGTQ folks, immigrants and just about anyone who isn’t white and Christian. Andy adds strength to his position by adding self-supplied harmony and redefining “sacred” in the verse, then goes after the faithful and their deep-seated prejudices in the bridge:

Books are burning
In the playground
Smell of burnt book is not unlike human hair
I believe the printed word is more than sacred
Beyond the gauge of good or bad
The human right to let your soul fly free and naked
Above the violence of the fearful and sad

The church of matches
Anoints in ignorance with gasoline
The church of matches
Grows fat by breathing in the smoke of dreams
It’s quite obscene

It’s also stupid. As argued by writer Benny Russell after his publisher refused to print his work in the DS9 episode “Far Beyond the Stars,” “You can pulp a story but you cannot destroy an idea! Don’t you understand? That’s ancient knowledge. You cannot destroy an idea!” It’s a well-known fact that banning books, songs, films and other forms of artistic communication only serves to increase human curiosity, so the effort is inevitably self-defeating.

If you don’t like what someone says in a book, don’t read it. If you don’t like movies with sex scenes, watch something else. You cannot destroy an idea, no matter how ugly it may seem to you. Thank you, Andy Partridge, for standing up for what is right and shining the spotlight on what’s wrong.

I will now quote one of those announcers who probably still peddle Japanese knives on American TV: BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

In a rare break from XTC tradition, the fade is filled with the sound of dueling guitars, with Andy on the left and Dave on the right, each approaching their solos according to their gifts. Andy’s solo is more on the rough-and-tumble side, with sharp attacks and sudden bursts while Dave’s is more sinuous and melodic. The combination is quite compelling, and though I wish they’d played a few more bars, I understand Andy’s concerns when it comes to guitar solos: “It’s that thing of, you know, virtually all guitar playing — as in solo guitar — has been done. If I’m going to do, or if Dave’s going to do, any solo, it’s got to be very melodic, or it’s got to be very stand-out, and it can’t get flaccid. The danger is that, you know, you get into Foghat territory, where it’s just endless noodling over boogying. “Freebird” territory—oh, for goodness sakes. So, brevity is the key. Keep it short, keep it down to essential meat. I don’t want any spare flab. Not on my songs, anyway!”

*****

Once the album was at or near completion, the boys presented their work to Virgin. One of Virgin’s suggestions was to release “Wrapped in Grey” as a single:

AP: I was so delighted when they suggested it because I thought it was one of the better-quality tracks off of the album. Virgin always went for the obvious choices. It was always the Sgt. Rocks or the Making Plans for Nigels, so it was never the more interesting stuff.

But they came along on their own and said, “We really want to do this,” and I was delighted. I thought, “Wow, this is great, we’ve leapt into the adult market,” or something. I was really happy that they’d recognized it as a good song, and they were going to push it as a single, and they wanted to make a video for it . . .

And I thought, “Great, a single’s coming out that I’m really, really proud of as an adult piece of work, and it looks like it’s going to be a great film, where I’ve got a hand in saying how the film goes.” And then, for no reason that was ever explained to us, Virgin just withdrew it.

TB: You must have been quite far along in the process though, because there were something like 5,000 copies pressed, correct?

AP: I’ve heard various amounts—I’ve heard 2,000 to 5,000—so I don’t actually know how many they did press up. I mean, they could tell you if they went back through their records, you know. But suffice to say that they withdrew it from sale, and so the single is reasonably rare.

TB: It’s one of the most collectible items for you guys.

AP: Yeah. But I was gutted, because I thought, “It’s like killing a child in its cradle—they’re not giving it a chance to grow.” That was a big nail in the coffin of the relationship with Virgin.

Dave and Colin were equally pissed off by the cancellation. It was at that point Dave made a suggestion: “Why don’t we do what other people do who don’t like their working conditions? Why don’t we go on strike?” Andy thought it was a “fantastic idea.”

TB: Tell me a little bit about the other nails, because obviously this was not enough to make you walk away. What else was putting pressure on you at this time, and convinced you to go on strike, which many people saw as career suicide?

AP: Certainly, over the years, I was unhappy about the way we were promoted. They tried to push us into more of a straighter Pop kind of mold than I think we felt comfortable with. We all thought of ourselves as an album band that made pretty straight music, generally, but obviously not straight enough for Virgin. There was this gentle pressure all the time to be more Pop, and to play straighter. And of course when they get big success with people like Culture Club, or Heaven 17, or Human League, it’s a matter of, “Well, XTC have got to go this way,” you know? . . .  I always felt like they never accepted us for what we were. They were always trying to make us something that we weren’t! I just wanted XTC to do what it wanted to do. I didn’t want to have to jump through accepted hoops at Virgin. Also, I really hated how we had the video thing taken out of our hands every time. And, of course, when we stopped touring, the winds of interest at Virgin got really icy.

They didn’t officially initiate the strike until a couple of years later when Virgin rejected Andy’s concept of a bubblegum album loaded with sexual innuendo. XTC would not release another full studio album of original compositions for seven long years. The strike certainly damaged their relationship with their core audience, but for XTC, it was more important to preserve their artistic integrity than to cut a deal with the devil.

*****

I think I’ve conclusively proven my hypothesis and the two supporting equations. Unfortunately, I will not be submitting my treatise (titled “The Effect of Energy Vortexes on 20th-Century Music”) to the Norwegian Nominating Committee because I found out that only a Qualified Nominator can submit nominations and I don’t know anyone who is.

I guess I should have figured out a way to fuck more elites, but geez, they’re so fucking boring.

Though I’ll miss out on the million-euro prize, I had the enormous pleasure of listening to a truly great album by XTC, and that more than compensates for any lost monetary award.