{"id":1003,"date":"2013-08-06T20:20:26","date_gmt":"2013-08-07T00:20:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/pages.vassar.edu\/musicalurbanism\/?p=1003"},"modified":"2013-10-29T08:01:42","modified_gmt":"2013-10-29T12:01:42","slug":"sound-in-70-cities-the-european-urbanism-of-simple-minds","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pages.vassar.edu\/musicalurbanism\/2013\/08\/06\/sound-in-70-cities-the-european-urbanism-of-simple-minds\/","title":{"rendered":"sound in 70 cities: the European urbanism of Simple Minds"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dream, dream, dream<\/em>
\nIt’s the eighties’ youthful theme<\/em>
\nLoving the city<\/em>
\nA theme for great cities<\/em>
\nAnd loved ones<\/em>
\nAnd love<\/em><\/p>\n

– “Wonderful In Young Life” (1981)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Americans know them mostly as “that Breakfast Club<\/em> band” from the 80s, but Scotland’s Simple Minds have carried on in one form or another long enough to enjoy a new critical appreciation. \u00a0DJs have incorporated prominent samples from Simple Minds recordings into dancefloor<\/a> bangers<\/a>. \u00a0The millenium’s postpunk revival restored the group’s dance-rock credentials; add cowbell to a track like 1979’s “Changeling,” step up the tempo a bit, and you’ve got a decent recipe for the Rapture’s 2002 “House of Jealous Lovers.”<\/p>\n

To this retrospective, I want to propose the importance of Simple Minds’ urban aesthetic. \u00a0It seems to me, and now I’m wondering why, those of us who came of age with UK music in the early 80s intuitively recognized Simple Minds as an ‘urban’ group, whatever that might have meant decades ago \u2014 a synth-based sound, their reign on nightclub sound systems, the pretensions of the new romantics and new Europeans, their penchant for pleated trousers. \u00a0Yet I think there’s something more important to this question than just a long-standing obsession. \u00a0As I’ll argue, today we all inhabit, to some extent, the urban world envisioned in Simple Minds’ early work.<\/p>\n

\"live_1\"<\/a><\/p>\n

To explore this issue, in this essay I examine the group’s urban aesthetic to show how it evolved in tandem with the musical developments of the group’s first six albums (recorded between 1979-84) and broader changes in urban geography and history during this first phase of the band’s career.<\/p>\n

(I realize that most observers mark Simple Minds’ early career with the first five<\/em> albums, which the band has recently taken to commemorating via the 5×5<\/em> tour and live recordings.\u00a0 However, I extend this period up through their sixth album, 1984’s Sparkle in the Rain<\/em>, for two reasons.\u00a0 First, it’s the last to feature Derek Forbes, one of postpunk’s most creative bassists and a key contributor to their post-punk sound.\u00a0 And second, yes, I’m a new wave damage-case who still has a soft spot for this album, even though it points toward the direction that the group would pursue, in my estimation, with less relevance to pop music in the following years.)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Theme for great cities<\/strong><\/p>\n

Anyone who has held a Simple Minds album in their hands know that representations of the urban are plainly evident across various song titles, lyrical references and promotional visuals (the group never really exploited music videos successfully).\u00a0 But one of the most exciting qualities of Simple Minds’ music is that listeners can discern an urban aesthetic within the sonics of the music itself, without recourse to their visual or lyrical references.\u00a0 I’d say their urban sound is best captured by a number of songs from albums #3-4 \u2014 Empires and Dance<\/em> and the two-record release Sons and Fascination\/Sister Feelings Call<\/em> \u2014 that reveal the foundation of two musical elements.\u00a0 First, the rhythm section is up front in the mix, anchored by Forbes’ throbbing, hypnotic basslines shorn of its high-end treble.\u00a0 Drummer Brian McGee’s style is simple but memorable, repeating spare rhythms of one or two bars’ length for machinic effect while generally eschewing cymbal crashes or drum fills.<\/p>\n

Second, keyboardist Mick MacNeil dominates the mid-registers with clarion melodies on keyboard and organ, arpegiators looping one-bar synth figures, and beds of ambient chords and textures.\u00a0 In combination, these elements convey the musical sensations of motion<\/em> and altitude<\/em> \u2014 what Kerr evokes as airmobility<\/em> (in “Sweat in Bullet”) \u00a0\u2014 giving the listener a window seat on a trip through vast, technicolor landscapes.\u00a0 (From “Premonition”: Fly over land\/Where no one’s heart can beat<\/em>.) \u00a0\u00a0If this recalls the logic of German motorik<\/em> groups like Neu! or Kraftwerk, or for that matter what it sounds like to drive into an immersive urban setting accompanied by any contemporary techno soundtrack, that’s no mistake.\u00a0 In a very significant way, Simple Minds’ early recordings comprise a key link between German krautrock and today’s techno urbanism.<\/p>\n