You know how it is. You hear one word and you're tantalised into eavesdropping on the rest. Bars at receptions are a good place for it. "So Nick (c'mon, what other Nicks are there that matter?) said to me: 'What do you see in me? I'm dirty. I'm lazy. I drink too much. I look a mess. I just don't understand what women see in me'." If he didn't he wouldn't have known to name this lump of plastic Jesus of Cool.
Nor would he have split his image six ways on the cover. Professional busker come gigolo. Weekend acid rocker. Power pop balladeer (God help us all). Sharply dressed muso. Future present space musician. And last, the real Nick Lowe — bleary, bag eyed, unshaven, doing an impression of a man half asleep for five years.
Poked inside those visions of Nick as seen by himself and others is what the world has been waiting for, or at least awaiting with interest — the Nick Lowe solo album. At last — eleven new songs from the man of all rock 'n' roll seasons. Well, not quite. If you're a conscientious student of the Lowe oeuvre, you'll be familiar with five of the songs, three of the performances.
"So it Goes," "I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass" and "Marie Provost" in their original form. "Shake And Pop" is "They Called It Rock" (flip-side of "Breaking Glass") with a different tune and a minor word change. "Heart Of The City" is the twice as long live Rockpile treatment. And another song, "36 Inches High," is from the pen of Jim Ford who wrote "Ju Ju Man."
When I hurriedly played one side in the office, the general consensus was that they hadn't even noticed its passing. And that, I reckon, would be most people's initial reaction. Come to that, it's the story of Nick's life. He was the "star" of my local rock 'n' roll band when I was at school. And it's taken till the last couple of years for him to be widely recognised as a major talent. Anyone who'd listened to any of the Brinsley Schwarz albums could have told you that he was a supremely gifted songwriter five years ago.
And he's still the same... only different. Reviewing "Breaking Glass," I said he'd yet to create an idiom of his very own. I was wrong. His uniqueness rests on the very fact that he's able to "lift," "steal" and plagiarise. Echoes are the core of rock 'n' roll, especially the hit single. What's half-known is appreciated faster. "Shake And Pop" might be "Nadine" by any other name but it's definitely Nick Lowe, not Chuck Berry. Despite the track to track differences in sound. they're all so very Lowe — sparse, carefully selected instrumentation, delicacy of touch (apart from "Heart Of The City") and understated vocals.
Nevertheless, it still seems at times that there's not been quite enough effort — maybe Nick's deep down scared of laying down his art to the world... what happens if only a few critic pick up on it yet again? Lyrically, too many of the songs are little more than fragments: "Music For Money" although it is an excellent fragment. Even "Breaking Glass" is hardly a full song. Then that didn't hurt "Louie Louie" none.
And sometimes, Nick's main ambition seems to be to become the poet laureate of the music biz (you call that an ambition?). "So It Goes" and "Shake And Pop" obviously but he even squeezes a line into "Little Hitler" that runs, "I'll get serious. Let me guess, why you knocked me off the guest list."
But when he turns in masterpieces like "Marie Provost"' — certainly the best, most fully formed lyrics he's ever written — and JOC's answer to "Day in the Life," "Nutted By Reality" (it's both rooted in dream and composed of two, divergent tunes and sets of words), you forget the partial failures and the slightness of songs like "Tonight."
I should complain. Hell, a Nick Lowe album is a thing to be grateful for. Maybe if he stopped hanging out with some of his boozy, cynical companions, he'd be able to treat his music and his audience a little more seriously. They both deserve it. If only he wouldn't call it pure pop for now people. That makes it sound like a toothpaste advert.
But maybe that's what he wants.
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