Level 42
Staring At The Sun

THE REVIEW

The pop music of the eighties produced a lot of atrocious junk, including tiresome and unbearable mass phenomena such as the tone-deaf Duran Duran and the voiceless Paul Young (who?), but also a certain number of absolutely brilliant (British) gems: Prefab Sprout, Tears for Fears, Talk Talk… and Level 42.

Truly an unusual situation for this last band whose name, taken from the well-known bestseller by Douglas Adams “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” is more than fitting: their music is indeed enjoyable on different… levels, from the popular/easygoing throwaway songs to the butt-shaking punch of the discos, all the way to the aware, analytical and perhaps somewhat snobbish appreciation of music lovers and musicians. It is undeniable that the quartet consisted of high-level musicians, a couple of whom were even exceptional, and I am referring to the drummer Phil Gould and the charismatic leader of the group, the blonde and stocky bassist/singer Mark King.

Mark's extreme musicality led him to start as a drummer, acquiring perfect timing and accent control during his teenage years… only to transfer it all to the bass, the new instrument chosen (at nineteen) to express himself, adding singing as well shortly after, just because. The result is a bassist who plays with a killer groove, very percussive but not intrusive thanks to a… ring of insulating tape applied to the right thumb, at the point mostly used for plucking the strings, meant to dampen the high notes. At the same time, here you have a warm and relaxed singer, almost a crooner, dealing with extended melodic lines, often somewhat banal, especially rhythmically completely independent from the busy evolutions on the four strings. For those who know music and have seen him in action, a truly difficult combination to put together, yet achieved with amazing naturalness. Study? Fierce dedication? Not at all… to the question: "How do you manage to sing and play the bass simultaneously like that?" he always responded, "I don’t know, it’s been like that for me since day one, it never cost me any effort!"

Unfortunately, Phil Gould is no longer the drummer of Level 42 on this record: he left together with his brother, the guitarist Rowland aka “Boon,” right after the recordings of the previous album “Running In The Family.” He will return in the nineties for one more, final work with the band. The replacement is top-notch: Gary Husband has played, and will play in the future, with many people in the jazz, rock, progressive field… he is also more known and esteemed than Phil, but in my opinion, he doesn't measure up. Phil's style is inimitable, fluid, full of dead notes and all those little taps here and there on the kit that are not individually perceptible but contribute greatly to the groove and feeling. Husband, in comparison, seems rigid, especially on the hi-hat. “Staring At The Sun” suffers from the drummer change compared to the albums that preceded it, this is my opinion.

The same thing doesn't happen, in my view, with the change of guitarist: Boon Gould was a king of the throw away style, as the English say, which means sloppy, fluid, with no accents. The new Alan Murphy is more biting, has a more prominent and sustained sound.

In this record, I like four tracks: in order of appearance, the first is "Take A Look,”  thanks to a catchy chorus. The second is “Silence,” dominated by keyboardist Mike Lindup who composes the music and lyrics and sings it with his fluted voice, for once not engaged in the characteristic falsetto counterpoints to King’s baritone voice, one of Level 42's trademarks.

The third thing that excites me is the substantial “Man,” almost seven and a half minutes of progressive/funky/fusion/pop placed towards the end of the album, after many little songs (well-made and divinely played, but still), with inspired changes in rhythm and atmosphere, keyboards programmed with exquisite class by the “fifth man,” the producer  Wally Badarou who really gives Lindup substantial help in terms of timbres and settings.

The last mention is for the closing instrumental, the melancholic “Gresham Blues,” a true musical epitaph for the poor Alan Murphy, who joined the band when the HIV virus had long been diagnosed in his body: he will sadly pass away soon after, the year following the release of this album (1988), at just thirty-six years old. The competent and expressive guitar of this excellent performer (Kate Bush, Go West, Mike + The Mechanics his collaborations before this closing with Level) plays the suggestive theme (composed by King) and its variations, supported by Lindup's synthesizer and a beautiful saxophone, played by a certain Krys Mach: a worthy musical and human farewell, closing a virtuous and light work, too light for a band with enormous potential, but too leaning towards the little tune in the second part of its career.