Blancmange
Blanc Burn

For some time now, the '80s, which seemed destined for damnatio memoriae after the Nirvana-Rock-Alternative diktat imposed by MTV long ago, have come back to everyone's lips: whether due to an absolute lack of ideas or because that infamous decade offered many nefarious cues from which the worst of contemporary mainstream (pop/rock across the board, the differences being purely formal) can freely draw and recycle at will. How many times have we heard things like "popstar X rather than Y returns to the typical '80s dance with this new record," "This emerging rock band offers a typically 80's sound" or similar statements; then out of the blue, Duran Duran fall back into heavy rotation, more annoying and irksome than ever, and it becomes clear how poor (?) Danny The Kid, who lived that decade only for eight and a half months in his mother's womb, can have a distorted and at least partial idea of that period, which for pop was much happier and more prosperous than this sterile third millennium dominated by transient fashions that follow cyclically every two years and which almost everyone follows like good sheep (Timbaland, David Guetta, now Skrillex, next...)

Having gotten over the glee of finally managing to mention Skrillex in one of my reviews (aho, so' satisfactions!), let's get back to us and especially move on to serious things: in this wave of tacky revival, a duo that in the '80s knew how to write their own story with class and dignity has made its reappearance, amid general indifference. An honest reality, nothing genius or transcendent but which produced refined and pleasant synth-pop, focusing more on music than on makeup and image: I'm talking about Blancmange from Harrow (UK), namely singer Neil Arthur and beatmaker/multi-instrumentalist Nick Luscombe, a meteor that nailed two out of three albums, specifically the debut "Happy Families" and "Believe You Me" from 1985, rich in taste, style, intelligence, and creativity, as evidenced by beautiful songs such as "Living On The Ceiling," "Waves," "God's Kitchen," "What's Your Problem?" and "Paradise Is" to mention the most successful, to which are added the famous hit "Lose Your Love" and a highly commendable cover of ABBA, "The Day Before You Came," featured on the second album "Mange Tout" from 1984, by far the duo's least interesting.

But here they are, after twenty-six years from "Believe You Me" Blancmange returns to the scene, with a colorful cover in their most authentic style, without sycophantic attempts at modernization, as if to say "it's still us," but that's not entirely true: they have changed, yes, but only where it really matters. It's a risk, an uncertainty, a leap into the void, but the final outcome is simply superb, demonstrating how sometimes reunions really do serve a purpose, proving that it's possible to place one's personal masterpiece after more than a quarter of a century of absence. Yes, because "Blanc Burn" is exactly that, I say it clearly, we are in the presence of a truly exquisite album, fascinating and intriguing electronic pop, with sober, almost minimal arrangements but tons of substance, tons of fuel on the fire, inspiration off the charts, crystalline class. Perfect pop gems like "By The Bus Stop @ Woolies" and "I'm Having A Coffee" feature muffled and elegant rhythms, almost futuristic in their simplicity on which delightful pop chants beautifully interpreted by a pleasantly hypnotic Neil Arthur with his semi-spoken style unfold, in "Probably Nothing" a light, danceable new-wave lives again, free of useless frills, just voice, rhythm, and a cunning and intriguing melody, a style also drawn upon by "The Western", which with its Middle Eastern atmosphere is proposed as "Living On The Ceiling" of the third millennium and "WDYF", with a slightly sour and dark mood.

"Blanc Burn" is a compact and perfectly structured album, flowing from beginning to end as a single unified musical speech without foreign bodies, fillers, or style lapses, but this does not mean it lacks eclecticism, creativity, and emotional peaks: a potential chart-busting single like "Drive Me" is one of those songs that immediately enters the bloodstream, teasing the limbic system, the semi-acoustic ballad "Radio Therapy" manages to break the hypnotic rhythms of the rest of the album by offering more expansive and relaxing sounds without becoming soporific, an uncommon quality for a piece of this kind, "Don't Forget Your Teeth" is a syncopated and ironic slow march with deliciously disorienting psychedelic twists, without forgetting the almost sci-fi atmosphere of a sarcastic "Starfucker" and especially the stunning "Ultraviolent", perhaps the album's emotional peak, which despite almost robotic sounds offers the most human and committed lyrics of "Blanc Burn" thanks also to Neil Arthur's perfect and extraordinary interpretation.

An album of this kind today is truly something more unique than rare, in the context of standardized mainstream pop and more bland than a raw potato "Blanc Burn" does justice to its cover by being something not new at all costs but certainly alternative and sincere, genuine like fresh fruit. If such a record had been made by Hurts, the new sensation of ultrapatinated revival, with all the hype that comes with it, there would be countless media gurus and saints tearing their clothes screaming masterpiece and more or less recent starlets fighting to collaborate with them, but perhaps fortunately, this is not the case. We can only hope that this second youth of Blancmange (already only for this album far better than their good first) is not a sporadic reunion like that of Soft Cell in 2002, because Neil Arthur and Nick Luscombe still have much to say and give to pop, and after almost thirty years of oblivion, it's time to make up for lost time.