Given to me by JJW-A, April 2007
The opportunity to listen to the Specials’ second album is as much a cause for celebration as the first glorious day of the year. I truly, madly, deeply love this record, and objectively it’s not hard to see why; its mix of cinematic exotica, punky ska and Kinks-y storytelling makes for one of the most successful blends in pop. Although the subject matter (prostitution, nuclear paranoia, relationship breakdown) is often less than cheerful, the exuberance of the music is infectious. Listening to More Specials immediately puts me into something resembling a good mood- I’m even starting to slightly lose sight of the fact that I’ve got actual work to do. I’d best make this post as brief as I can in order that I don’t get out the gin and write off the rest of the day.
It is scientifically impossible to dislike songs like Hey Little Rich Girl, I Can’t Stand it and Do Nothing; I’d take the partnership of Jerry Dammers’ titanium-strength songwriting and Terry Hall’s seductively unengaged vocals over Jagger & Richards or Lennon & McCartney any day. There’s not a bum note here- even the obvious filler like the throwback ’60s brass rave up of Sock it to ’em JB and the mariachi dumbness of Holiday Fortnight are flawlessly executed pastiches that never cross the line into kitsch territory; Dexy’s Midnight Runners would’ve given their eye teeth for Pearl’s Café, the slightest of the conventional pop songs on More Specials.
Perhaps the best moment on this is the double (or triple) whammy of Stereotypes parts I & II and International Jet Set. The former is a Morricone-referencing character sketch which somehow flows seamlessly into a heavy dub passage over which Neville Staples toasts his advice for living (‘If you don’t wan’ drink don’t go to pub!’), while the latter is an altogether weirder proposition. Novelty hammond organs plonk out queasy spirals of noise while Terry Hall alternately croons and whispers the monologue of a jet-lagged businessman apparently on the brink of a breakdown. It is, as I so often have to resort to writing here, infinitely better than I make it sound.
Right. Enjoy Yourself- it’s later than you think…
The Daily Record 