The Cars
Heartbeat City

THE REVIEW

I first heard "Drive" while tuning into a famous Sunday dedication program on the radio... It sounded like a Double tune, but softer; a Black ballad, but more intense; a Level 42 song but more romantic. I got a hold of the record some time later. When I had the LP in hand, I realized the project was rather ambitious: a pop art painting as large as the entire cardboard instead of the traditional cover, the kind you'd keep the LP open and hang on the wall... Lyrics and photos of the members as recommended in the best families... And then a giant wheel (?), one of those gears, one of those that seem out of place when you reveal to friends that you’re reviewing records that no one has ever cared about.

Choruses start from nowhere. What the heck kind of song is this? "Hello, hello again"... Then three ridiculous keyboard blasts, like "The Unforgettable Fire," to put it simply; 1984 in all its symptomatic glory. Yet another hello (if you say "hello again" it means you’ve made other albums before... I’ll only investigate if I like this one). Chorus and drums, an unsynthesized but contained drum sound, muffled, "filtered," "buttery", and cymbal-less. A charming, more eighties-than-eighties keyboard tune rises.. And I thought they were the American Cocteau Twins... Erasure, maybe! The singing begins ("singing" is what you call this? Sure?). But this isn’t the voice that sings "Drive"! Did the DJ put the wrong band and title on air? ... A movement that feels like a bass, but could it be the last five keys on the left of the keyboards, given how "synthetic" this piece is? How many keyboard parts are there, anyway? And with every fourth beat a new disorienting effect enters... We’re only at the fiftieth second of the record, and I already want to listen to something else. But all I have at hand is "Eros In Concert," so... In the second verse, continuous croaks and xylophonic notes insert themselves. Then that "Hello again" once again, this time seemingly with a real guitar. I open the LP and discover there are two guitarists... The singing resumes, this time the vocalist alternates with the chorus, nudging in with their "I know, I know you're a dreamer." A special that is an empty time-space reserved for the buttery cymbal-less drums and those infamous keyboard blasts, A solo of something that seems closely related to an ultrasound. Now the chorus sings, and the vocalist follows along. At the umpteenth salutation, you've realized there's a rock taste, or a aftertaste of rock, in all this...

Prepackaged percussion and again this "baritone" and echoing drum. This time the bass comes out, the strings more than plucked, sounding "full-bodied" as if being pulled with pliers, and even in this case it seems that the entire instrument, and perhaps also its player, are made of mascarpone. Three guitar notes, and below it seems there might be a slide guitar, but with all the keyboards wandering the streets of Heartbeat City, I wouldn't bet on it. Again this singer who isn't who I wanted: he recites the verses, sings the pre-chorus, and leaves the chorus to the choir, joining in with some "oh oh" or a few words. Then six seconds of little keyboard sounds for pretty in pink girls and clapping in rhythm. The keyboards this time aren’t "intrusive" but delicate, like the whole song, eight verses of three words or so each. There’s even a guitar solo, and it’s like fresh water gushing... From there, about forty repetitive choruses to a fade that, by the time it comes, you're already at peace. After this "Looking For Love", by the third song, whatever it is, you already know you're not prepared.

Space keyboards, and you can't understand what will come of it, then the noise becomes more convulsed, louder; it almost implodes surprising you, the drums and a guitar roars... Guitar and keyboards for a catchy little tune; a second guitar starting its sweet arpeggio; with a rhythm so easy how come I don't know it, how come it hasn't circled the globe like Trevor Horn's? The unknown vocalist sings, in his own way but he sings, between guitar and drums... A bass eager to have fun rises; a "pulled" guitar crescendo, a chorus with the last single prolonged leading to the refrain: "Uh uh it's magic"... In 1984 in Beverly Hills spoiled kids throw Ming dynasty ceramics in the pool along with camping chairs... Guitar solo of one note, that's enough for everyone. Next is "Drive", I’ve read it even though I don’t believe it could ever be her.. I hear the fade of "Magic" approaching, and I just can't figure out how you can follow a piece like "Drive" with one like this... Then it happens in a nanosecond, and I realize I’ve slid at the same speed from one nearly opposite mental state to another... And I realize the organism and central nervous system, all in all, have responded more than decently. That "Drive" is "Drive" is without a doubt, only that in fact this voice has transformed: it has become deeper, more romantic, more inspired, less peculiar but more beautiful. I promise myself to read between the credits to notice something, but later. After this piece, after these voices that seem like keyboards, after these keyboards that seem like voices, after these percussions of a bossa nova that has migrated back to Rio, after this chill that is instead tormented, after this pop chorus, after these "who's gonna drive you home, who's gonna drive you home" that are worthy of "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc... After this musical void with those "fa fa fa" that not even the Queen of 1984 dared to (re)propose.

The piece sets and it's dark again... Continual ticking marking the time, fluted keyboards spewing notes in bursts like automatic blowpipes; guitars on the brink of a nervous breakdown; an angry drummer because he can’t hit a cymbal more than once every ten seconds. The same voice from "Drive" sings "Stranger Eyes" over the ticks and well-spaced bass notes. Screamed high notes on the chorus followed by the usual backing vocals, both soft-spoken and loud at the same time. Just like the guitars, whining and growling on the chorus simultaneously. Yet again the penchant for the eighties song form: empty space filled with keyboard effects, a laughing Roland hyena, a Yamaha E.T. boarding its spaceship; then a Fender cat climbing onto the rooftop tip-toed by claws; the voice reflecting while a bass pushes like a battering ram, a crescendo, and finally an epic solo that couldn’t be more epic...

Side A ends and I finally face the musicians. The first is horribly ugly with that suit, those Blues Brothers-style glasses, not to mention his pineapple hair: my nerdy third-grade companion had it. There’s one, on the other hand, very cool, platinum blonde with sky-blue eyes, all dressed in black leather, with an outrageous belt, even gloves, and an ultra-long white scarf... The leader MUST be him, it has to be him... But in the group photo, he’s placed to the side. In the center, with a seated leg crossed (must be the drummer!), is that strange type again, with ears like bridge handles (don’t tell me he’s the leader!). Then I read that there are two vocalists: one named Ric Ocasek (a truly unfortunate name, worthy of that bespectacled broom) and one named Ben Orr (wow! A name worthy of a global cinematic blockbuster! Surely he’s the blonde). But who writes the songs? All songs written by Ric Ocasek... Alright then, let’s leave it be. And "Drive"? Who sings "Drive"? Don’t tell me the warm and romantic voice belongs to that pineapple-haired one? Please, at least this: let the voice be that of the blond one!!!

Side B begins with a gimmick-keyboard and a guitar which must feel like it's going on a jog. Too bad for the drums. If only they’d decided to open up the sound at least for this track... The strange and strained voice of this gentleman makes "You Might Think" charming and courteous. Meditative special, half with the choir singing along with the vocalist, singer without music for the other half. Slow specials like these are nonetheless typical of rock songs, providing a bit of decompression chamber to start again, perhaps in this case restarting at full throttle with a guitar solo.

The beginning of "It's Not The Night" is a bit raucous and indigestible, with this continuous downhill plunge of musical staircases, white step after black step. The voice is the romantic one, right for a track like this. But what happens? It becomes hiccuping... Nooo, him again!! Fortunately, the chorus - guitar-driven, somewhat epic and equally boisterous, given the Bon Jovi-like choirs - is the first vocalist's domain. Then the song takes off on a decent guitar-drum foundation, which could however explode more noisily, while the keyboard isn’t on earth but flies between sky and space... The whole thing lets me glimpse echoes of the new wave... Rhythm guitar void to highlight a simple, brief, and effective solo... Again slow special and entirely keyboard and consequent disorienting effects... But wait! Him again!!! The special is his... This sneaky singer only interprets the parts of the song where there are no high notes to hit! In the "pathetic" (from "pathos") ending, the guitars do not rise, the keyboard comes down from up there, becoming a rhythm section of violins from a synthetic orchestra.

Again keyboards that "breathe" like "Drive"; you certainly can’t say the bass isn’t heard. The atypical voice sings very short verses of a sophisticated ballad, and everything fits perfectly. The solo of two "saws" is fantastic... What did you all think?!? In the sense that the keyboard sounds like one (actually two) of those lumberjack saws (those "manual" ones), arched to the extreme and upon which an expert bow travels (have you ever seen someone play them, maybe on TV?)

"I Refuse" is perhaps the track that, up to this point and along with "Drive", couldn’t be arranged better (or any differently) than it is... The keyboards starting solo from the first note, after all, are quite sober... Rather, it's the guitar arpeggio that comes in at the second seven, just like - up to this point - all the guitar arpeggios on the album, sounding "flat," as if coming from a keyboard... And if the bass and guitar must seem like a synthesizer, and must produce quirky sounds of frogs jumping, teddy bears belching, cats purring, at this point it’s better to let it all be done by the keys from the start... Then when the solo is played by tea spoons against champagne glasses - whether half empty or half full -, you realize the song is perfect as it is, and that you can set the guitar down, there’s no problem.

A thunderclap; the oscillation of a distant tin lid; the gentle wind... If the sun had to choose a song to set with, it might pick this one. A music, which could exist without the song and in fact remains alone when the song ends... This music is a brook of notes chasing each other in a circle, gradually flowing downhill... Then another, in the same manner, parallel to the first, lower in volume but higher in tone... The two race each other. Two blues guitar notes to "silence" the second and let a poet enter the scene singing a recitation, a peculiar pop-rock singer turned into an American Giorgio Gaber, minimalist and somewhat blues. Heart-stopping, between the third and fourth verses, those three echoing guitar touches, repeating again to underscore the strongest moments of the track. A refrain to dedicate to "Jacki" (in the lyrics the track is labeled as "Jacki," not "Heartbeat City"), with an excellent arpeggio at a very low volume, but finally very guitar-like, not flat at all like in the previous tracks; soft backing vocals, "whispers" in notes mostly, still those delightful touches on the guitar strings. A knowing singing of a man explaining how to live there, how to feel comfortable, "under Heartbeat City's golden sun," among pricks in music, still those gentle shrill cries of a blues guitar and that eternal circle of subdued notes, which at the end of the song will revolve alone. In the second refrain, the keyboard becomes a trumpet, preparing to play the silence and enhancing the "spatial sensation" of this megacity... Then the track remains suspended in the void, and finally night falls, and with every note of the electric piano the lights of a "Heartbeat City" district turn on. The beat advances but time stands still: the bluebird celebrates the death of the day with its nine soprano vocalizations, and the singer can only break into a brief sob. Night is well upon us, the backing vocals are smoky like the city bars, the singer seems to be whispering confidences into an old friend's ear, the keyboards turn into a xylophone, a sax warms up, preparing to shout all night; a train's "choo-choo" sound in the distance, the one Jacki jumped on, to get away, and get lost... All his friends miss him, but no one will ever try to find him, because the heartbeat city is "my life," admits this man, just as it is for everyone else, in love with silence amidst the most infernal noise, and with solitude amidst chaos... In love with themselves and their own melancholy, all its inhabitants.

A record I truly recommend. Perhaps to listen to with a printout of this of mine at hand, which more than and before being a de-review is a technical and emotional guide to understanding a masterpiece.