FOR YOUR PLEASURE

From a very great distance, a minuscule dot of light appears within the sepia-black universe, slowly, very deliberately expanding in size and scope, until the brightness becomes overpowering. Having succumbed to the Roxy style and musical genius as espoused on their debut album, at a time when in 1972 "no one dressed, sang or played like that 3 years after Woodstock", I was eagerly awaiting for the sophomore release with fearful disappointment (a very common 70s-80s failure rate in quality as greedy record companies pushed the hunger for cash). In tremblingly moist hands, I ripped, then raped the slimy transparent dust-cover plastic off the deliciously sultry cover art, opening up to the image of a glamorous, blue-laden decadence, complete with innuendoes of dislocated values, hints of fad-driven bisexuality (Hey Amanda Lear!) and a rebellious disdain for artistic conformity. My review must take into account that I have listened to this album to death, knowing the material inside out and having autopsied its body parts too! The material inside has been well documented as a descent into darker terrains , yet many do not realize that on tracks like the "Bogus Man", the band pursued the new electronic-prog of Tangerine Dream and infused it with Weather Report-like groove hypnosis ("Boogie Woogie Waltz") and created a new genre that would arise much later (dance electronica) . Ferry and company even foresaw the punk phenomenon, as "Editions of You" is the first punk song, five years before that genre landed soggily on the fad-fed scene! This is where one realizes that they are pioneers that would be oft adulated and even copied by many latter day bands. "Do the Strand" kicks off this masterpiece of music in an immaculate frenzy, blasting copious amounts of musical genius and stellar playing by all concerned, giving the Ferry crooner the platform to wail away with unabashed passion. Taking the various dances ("do the fandango!") and molding them into a pop-prog jewel requires incredible creative insight, playing with words that fit perfectly and rapturously. No band has ever mastered the intro and finale like Roxy Music (even in latter albums), this one halts on a majestic nod! Boom! The velvet curtain closes ! "Beauty Queen" is my all-time favorite Roxy tune, where Ferry's exalted lyrics (a magnificently underrated wordsmith, he is) burrow very deep into my romantic soul. Here is a sample of what I mean:

"Valerie please believe It never could work out The time to make plans Has passed, faded away Oooh the way you look Makes my starry eyes shiver Then I look away Too much for one day One thing we share Is an ideal of beauty Treasure so rare That even devils might care Your swimming-pool eyes In sea breezes they flutter The coconut tears Heavy-lidded they shed Swaying palms at your feet You're the pride of your street While you worship the sun Summer lover of fun Gold number with neighbours Who said that you'll go far Maybe someday be a star A fast mover like you And your dreams will all come true All of my hope, and my inspiration I drew from you Our life's pattern's drawn in sand But the winds could not erase The memory of your face Deep in the night Plying very strange cargo Our soul-ships pass by Solo trips to the stars - in the sky Gliding so far That the eye cannot follow Where do they go We'll never know"

I don't know about you but this is exceptional imagery when combined with Ferry's masterful delivery, proving what many knew already, a star was born! To think Bryan auditioned for King Crimson as Greg Lake's replacement just before Lizard! So did allegedly Elton John, by the way! Strange because Epitath remains my selected funeral hymn. I digress! "Strictly Confidential" is an oft overlooked gem that has a highly personal slant that eschews the usual pop-rock pap. A despairing Ferry falsetto glistens within a dirge-like osmosis of odd sounds and moods , "over the hills and down the valley", diving deep into the melancholic abyss, Mackay's oboe sobbing and Manzanera's axe dripping angrily, suave backing vocals salting the imagination. Magical moment indeed, halting on a dime! The blitzy-ritzy classic "Editions of You" remains a punky rock song for the record books, where "boys will be boys, will be boyoyoyz" cannot sound corny , a sexy sax blast gets the pot boiling , an Eno zipper on synth and another Manzanera guitar sortie that is pure shimmer and glaze! Needless to say the incredible Paul Thompson drums like a maniac one step away from percussive heaven. Another unexpected ending for the ages. What more can be said about "In Every Dream Home a Heartache", a synthesized innuendo- laden poem about modern decadence and the pursuit of material bliss ("Penthouse perfection",) where the genial lyrics hypnotize and beguile , some of the finest oddball words ever penned within a rock context (you can see Ferry smile as he sings "I dress you up daily") , the "Enossified" Manzanera leads are another innovation that RM engendered, years before the guitar-synth concretely unified the two instruments and the MIDI technology that came even later, proving the pioneering spirit growling behind the insanity! As I stated earlier, "The Bogus Man" represents an experimental milestone monument in rock history, another bewildering hypnosis of electronic scramblings from Brian, where bizarre noodlings and dissonant slashes of sound are well ensconced within another startling vocal performance from Bryan. A true testament to the visionary abilities of the band, creating music that stands the test of time (check out the growing "tchik-ahs" in the background) and spearheading future styles and trends. This is as proggy as RM will ever get, so lap it up, pretty poster girls and feathery boys! "Grey Lagoons" is not often mentioned (or played live) but is one of my favourite hidden gems, a reminder that the crooner Ferry learnt something from listening to his Elvis records. "Silver starfish" collide with Manzanera's at first rollicking guitar and that magical Mackay rasp, a sax solo that will stretch the boundaries until Ferry joins in with a whopping harmonica solo that would make Bob Dylan blush, finalized by another sizzling axe thunderbolt that proves Manzanera's 6 string prowess, once and for all. The title track is a return to the dreamy, Eno mist-infused, Thompson drum-infested, Ferry electric piano-led lament that again highlights the imperial lyrics and a dizzying vocal performance (the broken-voiced "You watch me walk away"). The band still uses this track to exit the players from the live stage, leaving only Mr. Thompson rifling away on his kit, within synthesized swirls of seagulled screams and squawks. I know full well that I am totally partial in my review of this personal icon but, not owning this jewel and the debut shames your collection into eternal nothingness. If you don't believe me, ask Raff!

I dedicate this review to Nicole Perret, my very first love with whom I reconnected with via the Internet after 38 years of silence , yesterday. Miracles do happen!

5 chauffeured limousines.