Play. Close your eyes. No, this is not the sequel to the debut album. The first three tracks, one after the other, with "Once upon a time in the west," captivated you instantly, without compromises.
Is there anything more alluring than this album, on a winter evening, as "News" begins to play? Perhaps, but I'm not sure I want to know.
Even Pick Withers' drumming is magical, clear, precise, a caress in the night. And Mark, less shy now, lets himself go more, guiding us, we who crave harmonies, along shores that seem familiar but, up close, reveal perspectives and echoes never heard before, and we, grateful, willingly return to those vistas where music becomes a wide-angle, and the guitar first saturates the colors, then expands their texture into a kaleidoscope of sensations that prick our skin, opening up its pores, never to close them again.
"Where Do You Think You’re Going" is one of the group’s underrated masterpieces, featuring brilliant guitar solos at a climactic moment of Knopfler’s career.
"Lady Writer" moves over a seductive chord progression and a well-sustained rhythm that peeks into an unpredictable and slowed-down chorus.
An album fresh, I think more listenable than its older sibling, with a Mark Knopfler less pop and more Dylan.
While anyone approaching Dire Straits will be charmed by the big hits, over the years ears will start to prefer the rougher and more essential Knopfler.
"News, in the second position, already creates a delicate atmosphere that was unknown in the first album; Knopfler’s fingers touch the strings gently and the voice sometimes seems afraid to let itself be heard too much."
"Mark Knopfler winks at JJ Cale for the technique and Bob Dylan for the lyrics and creates a style that remains unique for now."
"Communiqué" is the polished copy of the previous one.
Professor Knopfler gives us not only magnificent music but also great lyrics.
Is there anything more enticing than this album, on a winter evening, when 'News' starts?
The guitar first saturates the colors, then expands their texture into a kaleidoscope of sensations that prick our skin, revealing the pores, to never close them again.