Friday, November 21, 2014

Kate Bush - "The Dreaming" (1982)



And almost out of nowhere, Kate Bush emerged with The Dreaming, an album that far surpasses her previous work, even her debut, and stands as one of my top 20 personal favorite albums. Never for Ever pointed the way, but this one is so far beyond what Never was striving for, it still staggers me. Basically, The Dreaming takes her flights of fantasy to their full potential, with Kate changing roles and characters from song to song. But where Never showed her starting to expand her sonic palette, yet still chained a bit by her previous style, The Dreaming has that rare Beatle-esque quality where the songs are all like their own independent worlds. The general feel is the same in some regards, but stylistically, I don’t think it is a stretch to say that some of the songs here have no adequate comparison in her first three albums. So musically, it’s her most diverse and adventurous album by quite some margin. Vocally, she is at her most diverse as well, as she now uses her ultra-high range for emotional effect and contrast rather than simply as the default. And what brings it all together is that the songs are uniformly excellent, and the best songs here put me in an ecstatic reverie when I listen to them.
The best example of what The Dreaming is able to accomplish comes on “Pull Out the Pin” which is, albeit narrowly, my pick for best song on the album. For this track, Kate sings from the perspective of a Vietnamese soldier during the Vietnam War, where pulling out the pin of course refers to grenades. It almost sounds silly writing about it, but I see it as Beatle-esque (there's that word again) in that it fully develops a fantasy world, both musically, vocally and lyrically, yet like a great John Lennon track, it is tinged with a sad realism. This song isn’t really about Kate Bush is any sense, but you wouldn’t know it from listening to her sing it. The haunting keyboard introduction puts the listener in the mood of hiding in the jungle, watching helicopters descend. The verse melody is tense as sirens blare in the background. The chorus starts as a simple call and response between Bush and guest vocalist David Gilmour but then suddenly escalates into a full-bodied screame. On paper, I still don’t know how it works so effectively, but in terms of performance, it’s incredible, especially later in the song where she simply screams again and again “I LOVE LIFE” over Gilmour’s backing vocals. And I would argue that even if you stripped out all the effects and sang it in a normal voice, it would still be a powerful song. But all the accoutrements turn it into an unforgettable venture into Bush’s fantasy world. And who says that fantasy is anything less than reality? Well, I listen to prog rock, so not me!
Amazingly, there are several other songs here that accomplish a similar effect as “Pull Out the Pin” yet with nearly completely different styles. The title track may be the most far-out song on the whole album, with its chanted backing vocals and incomprehensible lyrics ("Bang! Goes another kanga on the bonnet of the van"). The feel of the song is very cold and remote, almost as if she’s singing about an alien race rather than a human race. At any rate, it took me a few listens to fathom it, but once it struck me, it hasn’t let go. The closing “Get Out of My House” is inspired by the Shining, and in true Kate fashion, her character is not Danny or Jack Nicholson, but the house itself. At any rate, it’s insane all the way through, starting with her best unhinged voice in the verses, to her adopting a French accent and imitating a concierge, then screaming “Get out of my house!” Again, I feel like it’s difficult to capture the way it all sounds with words (cue Zappa and dancing about architecture) and that it reads a lot more gimmicky than it actually is. Because the reason I like it so much is not really because of the concepts, but because when the song is on, I am fully immersed and feeling the passion Kate brings to her singing - the concepts come to life.
The other highlights are plentiful – my second-favorite song here might be “Suspended in Gaffa,” a demented waltz with more piercing/gorgeous shrieking and no particular concept that I can identify, but its piano breaks with Kate whispering sweet nothings are so oddly beautiful that I can’t really complain. The second side has the only halfway conventional songs, all right in a row (“Night of the Swallow” through “Houdini”) and this is probably the only aspect I could possibly consider a weakness, because although all three songs hit the mark individually, they can’t help feeling slightly passé compared to the fantastic tracks that bookend the side (the title track and “Get Out of My House”). I do want to comment on “Houdini” for although from a musical perspective, it might be my least favorite on the album (still excellent, mind you!), the concept gives me the chills – apparently it’s based on an urban legend that Houdini gave his wife a secret code word so that when he died, if she ever encountered the word, she would know that he had communicated with her from the afterlife – his ultimate escape. Kate plays Houdini’s wife, of course, and to excellent effect.
So there’s at least a brief look at The Dreaming, one of the most wondrous albums I’ve recently had the pleasure of encountering. But I can’t really do justice to it with a four paragraph review. That said, I must warn again that it seems to encourage bipolar reactions and wasn’t even particularly well received by critics because it’s so non-commercial and decidedly odd. Normally, I take the middle ground in these types of cases, but as seemingly inaccessible as it might be, I was swept away on the very first listen. To me, the success of an album as experimental as this one is whether the artist remembers the founding principles of good music: memorable songwriting and emotional resonance. When the two combine with the range of novelty and experimentation shown here, then you’re really onto something. I understand that for some, the surface aspects (Kate’s screaming, the radical shifts of tone both in the middle of songs and between songs) may preclude emotional resonance, but I feel the passion and commitment is palpable: as much as this is a highly theatrical album, I have no doubt that it was also deeply personal for Bush, and it shows. 

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