The Sound
Jeopardy

It's really difficult to navigate among the many bands that crowded England in the early '80s. That scene was indeed a bubbling cauldron of influences, novelties, but also ridiculous banalities. That's why, when approaching something that is defined as "cult," you always have to be very careful, since it's not hard to fall for scams.

Certainly, Adrian Borland's debut album with The Sound doesn't belong to this category. His journey ended under a train, on a tragic day in April 1999, but it had started twenty years earlier, in search of fame that unfortunately never graced the Liverpool group.
Yes, Liverpool, definitely not a small suburban town. Yet these four Englishmen certainly didn't lack talent, when compared to other bands of the period. Perhaps, their failure was due to the leader's not so attractive "evocative" image. Moreover, it must be said that their sound was perhaps soaked with too many influences, and therefore didn't have an immediately recognizable personality. There was pop, dark, post-punk rhythms, subtle traces of psychedelia, and an emphasis that in some tracks recalled the desperate invocations of a glam-rocker. But this doesn't entirely justify the poor commercial success, also because it's not a crime to sound very "contaminated." What should count is the result, which in this case is really good.

Jeopardy came out in 1980, in the full post-punk era, under the Korova label, the same as the more fortunate Echo & The Bunnymen.
The sharp guitars, the sparse and essential drums, and the minimalistic keyboards that open the album, are very reminiscent of their peers, Joy Division. "I Can't Escape Myself" is indeed a nervous, dark, and bleak piece like Ian Curtis's visions. It seems like it wants to explode at any moment, but just when it seems like it will, it holds back and returns to being listless. Undoubtedly though, a great start. The railway rhythm that drives "Heartland" splendidly supports an obsessive bass in the best post-punk tradition, and the usual atmospheric and disorienting keyboards. Borland sings like a semi-desperate crooner, with his warm and epic tone, perfectly at ease in the group's overall sound. The hypnotic "Heartland" evokes the best Joy Division once again, with its painful keyboard ruptures, while "Words Fail Me" is a mix of punk energy and garage-rock. Two tracks that prelude to the solemn elegy of "Missiles," an epic and desperate anti-militarist anthem, pervaded by a sense of defeat and introversion that, however, left no trace of hope, unlike the not-so-distant U2 a few years later. In short, Borland was a loser, and this is clearly evident between the lines of his singing and the group's notes. Yet "Missiles" is truly moving in its desperate crescendo, with those keyboards that sound like the whistle of war planes.
The rubbery bass of "Heiday" closely recalls the groove of A Certain Ratio, while in the title track, the keyboards are again the protagonists. Without a doubt, electronics played a very important role in their compositions; the keyboards were indeed much more present than in most of the groups of the period, creating that gray aura that made their sound fascinating. Moreover, they were brought very much "forward" in the mixing phase, as was the bass. One can undoubtedly affirm that these two were the guiding elements of their music.
The album continues with the unleashed punk-rock of "Resistance," an overwhelming and frantic boogie, whose euphoric mood is promptly tempered by the rarefied atmosphere of "Unwritten Law," and the latent neurosis of "Desire," a sick musing that Borland intones in a paranoid and desperate manner.

All 11 tracks always maintain excellent levels. There is, ultimately, not even a drop in tone, as well as the total cohesion of the album is truly enviable.
That said, the only thing left to do is to get it, because beyond the discussions about the reasons for an artistic failure, what ultimately remains is always the music. And in this case, it's excellent music.