Sunday Song Special

Tomorrow, the 6th of December, would have been Adrian Borland's 53rd birthday. One of my all-time favourite singer/songwriters, he was the lead singer the 70s punk band The Outsiders, the 'seminal' 80s post-punk band The Sound, and, for a whole decade until 1999, an utterly forgotten solo artist. He was also a part-time record producer, and collaborated with many other artists in groups such as the Honolulu Mountain Daffodils and White Rose Transmission. After his suicide in April 1999, a vast backlog of his material was re-released, along with various demos recorded throughout his three-decade long career.

Last year I completely rewrote his Wikipedia article.

The vast quantity of his work, however, ignores the value of it. While his musical style ranged from the bleak and minimalist in the 70s, to the more augmented classic 80s sound in the following decade, to an almost U2-like quality in the 90s (or were U2 copying The Sound...?), it was his lyrics and personal character that defined his music, talented guitarist though he was. Never as self-absorbed as Ian Curtis, never as confident as Bono, never the one-hit wonder like so many 80s artists, Borland was sensitive, serious (but good-humoured), and always honest about himself. This week, SoT takes 5 of the best songs of his career in a special Sunday Song post.

Words Fail Me (Jeopardy, 1980)

Though recorded years earlier, Words Fail Me appeared on The Sound's debut album, Jeopardy. It was part of a New Wave watershed in 1980 that saw the beginnings of Echo & The Bunnymen (Crocodiles), U2 (Boy), and the Comsat Angels (Waiting For A Miracle)-and the demise of Joy Division, whose swansong (Closer) also appeared that year. Running through through the concept of communication failure, the track featured a brilliant-yet-unconventional chorus of a monotone, distressed-sounding guitar (akin the the last third of The Chain). Clearly, the bands influences were from the start grounded in traditional American rock rather than the punk movement as it was in Britain. A powerful, energetic song.

Crystalline (Alexandria, 1989)

After the collapse of The Sound in 1988 -concluding years of poor album sales and internecine tension- Borland struck out on his own career, kicking it off in the year I was born with the Alexandria album. The inclusion of a wide variety of different instruments and a much more open songbook and vocals to accompany them had finally thrown light on his work, marking a radical departure to what went before. Crystalline is the most representative piece to reflect this, and is probably the best track on the album with its easy rhythm and amiable -but preoccupied- lyrics.

Redemption's Knees (5:00AM, 1997)

Fast-forward to 1997, and Borland's fifth album, 5:00AM, and compare the difference again. By this point he had reached a little critical acclaim with Brittle Heaven (1992) and two quasi-demo albums, Beautiful Ammunition (1994) and Cinematic (1995). But from 1997 onwards Borland's work would feature markedly better production investment, and, as a result of that, more ambitious songs. 5:00AM was thus a bigger beast than its forebears, featuring punchy, harder songs like this, 'Redemptions Knees' -which for all its swagger, is still about personal weakness. Although I would rate the epic 'Over The Under' over this in terms of music and emotional depth, the latter was not available. This track surges with enough vitality, however, for this not to matter in the slightest.

Darkest Heart (The Amsterdam Tapes, 2006)

The Amsterdam Tapes, a session recorded in 1992, was eventually remastered in 2006 by Borland's friends, introducing 10 new songs and 2 alternate versions of songs to his published discography. Among them was this song, 'Darkest Heart', played live in this video by -among others- Kevin Hewick, as part of a 2006 dedicatory concert in The Netherlands marking the album's release (the album version is just as good, and can be listened to online here). Reaffirming Borland's obsession with weakness, frustration and the rogue aspects of life, this is among his most forceful, potent and immediately-listenable songs. The world is much better with it barging triumphantly into existence, all thanks to his friends.

Summer Wheels (Harmony & Destruction, 2002)


Unfortunately, my favourite Borland track is not available online [EDIT - see missive posted on 21/12/2010]. It is not on YouTube or Myspace, and a Google search result will drag up very little. The album it appears on, Harmony & Destruction: the unfinished journey, was recorded in the last two weeks before his suicide in April 1999. As such it is not light listening, and much of it is painful to listen to. It is not the music, or the quality of its recording. It is the presence in the lyrics of a struggle between two sides of a mind -one determined to stay, the other determined to destroy itself. There are frequent allusions to trains -he committed suicide by jumping in front of one- and previous attempts, as well as the source of his bitterness: the lack of recognition, personal decline and the antagonisms of others in his life. It was this dichotomy that gives the album it's name, and it would be the darkest heart that would eventually win.

'Summer Wheels' hails from the 'light side' of the album. A tentative, almost too-nervous-to-exist track, Summer Wheels is best described as a placid but vague stream of consciousness pushing towards escapism, to a hot, foreign beach away from the pressure of his presently cold, pressured reality; 'Stuck in a room with no view/Watching the wallpaper peel' perhaps refers to his time in the Springfield mental hospital. While the song could be finding optimism in his impending release from life, it seems more likely to me that he was actively looking forward to the summer, and all the plans that his March 1999 missive outlined. Whatever the intention, the song provides a uniquely ringing, polished sound without a clear precedent in his previous work, and positively shines with tragic optimism right at the end. The soaring, twisting and heart-wrenching solo dominating the last third (to the shouts of 'here come your summer wheels!' and 'don't go too long without light') is recognisable as a signature of Borland's musical style, but is performed here more perfectly and confidently than ever before. It is the greatest moment in musical history, and will never, ever be heard.

-Edited 6/12/10 (spelling & grammar)

-Edited 21/12/10 (video)