Song 29: True

True - Spandau Ballet

I watched Les Miserables yesterday. Yes, i'm not ashamed to say to it. I bought the hype, I revisited my youth, I dreamed, how you say, a dream. Now's not the time for a film review, I mention it only to remark on an amusing bit of film criticism by Mark Kermode who said all the singing was tremendous, with the possible exception of Russell Crowe [whose singing I actually found perfectly fine]: Kermode said he sounded a little like an X-Factor contest auditioning and trying to sound like Tony Hadley off Spandau Ballet. Which I laughed at.

My feeling about Spandau Ballet is that they are the kind of band Frank Lampard would be in, or would like if he was from the 80s - an upwardly mobile Tory boy band for an upwardly mobile Tory boy footballer.

Which is a harsh and dismissive assessment of both. Just as Lamps deserves a little more respect and affection, at least than his repellent co-Chelsea "legend" JT, Spandau Ballet are perhaps a little more interesting than meets the eye.

I think they started off as quite an innovative funk/soul band, who had an influence on Paul Weller in the late Jam/early Style Council years. Anyway, they had plenty of hits, but are certainly a band that has never escaped from the 80s, though one or two of its members have, in their own way.

Two of those hits are monster hits, Gold (GOLD) and, of course, True, Number 1 for 4 weeks in 1983 and a hit in the US too. I'm writing about it because it represents to me the way that memory lies to us, we deceive ourselves, chronology plays tricks on us and we're all a lot lamer than we think. When I saw "We", I mean "me".

I self-identify, primarily, as two things 1) someone with a really good memory for facts, figures and events 2) someone with "good" taste, whatever that is, not horrible overly hip taste, just good, solid, fair taste, well-developed critical faculties. But, True (SO TRUE) gives the lie to that. This, reader, is the sound of my soul.

If you're a regular reader of the blog, you'll know that 'Going Underground' by the Jam in late 93/early 94 was Year Zero for me, the point from which my musical exploration started and all good things sprung from that. So far so good. So in my head, all these years, I've kind of gone Jam - Weller - Blur - Dylan - Bowie - Beatles - Springsteen - Kinks whoosh and all the cool and excellent things followed. But that's not quite how it was.

The Jam. Then what? Then actually, as I look back, quite a long gap of several months before any of those others really arrived on the scene and certainly before I startede buying NME and being told what good taste in music ought to be. And what filled those several months? Well, it wasn't just the Jam. It wasn't even just The Jam and the Style Council. I've recalled that my train of logic went The Jam, ok, they're from the 80s, I'll get some 80s compilations. So I did, about 3 double-cassette 80s compilations with all sorts from Simple Minds to UB40 to Kim Wilde to I Know Him So Well (Isn't it Madness (MADNESS)) to, of course, True, by Spandau Ballet.

Hell, Spandau Ballet had even mentioned in the sleevenotes to my Jam Greatest Hits, of course they were cool. And 'True' was the coolest of the cool. It was sampled by hip-hop, it was studied, sweet and oh so soulful.

All the memories come flooding back. I didn't just listen to 'True' a little, I listened a lot. Maybe not as much as 'Going Underground' but almost as much. I knew it off by heart, I sang along in my bedroom, I found profundity in the lyrics and epiphany in the saxophone solo.

It had everything, references to Marvin Gaye, drugtaking, self-awareness. This. Was. It. Except it wasn't. As soon as I started finding out more and doing what I was told to, my innocent, honest enjoyment of the likes of Spandau Ballet went out of the window, and if I ever did enjoy 'True' again, it was in a knowing, mildly ironic way.

But I am least glad now that I've remembered things a little more clearly and my mid-90s post-supposed-Year Zero 80s compilation period is back in the timeline. Why do I find it hard to write the next line, oh, I want the truth to be said ...