The incessant noise of drum machines… Technique (1989) - New Order

As some of you will remember from my previous posts, 1989 has never been my favourite year for music. That melting pot of sound punctuating by a declining Stock, Aitken & Waterman and Jive Bunny. But there were a few glimmers of hope, particularly in the growing rave and dance music scene. Acts like Inner City, Adventures of Stevie V and Steve 'Silk' Hurley were making a big impact with their synth-laden singles, proving big hits in the UK clubs. 

Augmenting this was the fast-rising 'Madchester' scene, casting Manchester as the epicentre of late 80's/Early 90's indie music. Started by bands like The Smiths and record labels like Factory in the early 80's, it had grown into a behemoth with exiting new records coming out of awesome bands like The Stone Roses, Happy Monday, The LAs and The Charlatans. However, by far and away the leader of the pack was electronic/rock group New Order. 

Having formed from the fallout of Joy Division following Ian Curtis's suicide in 1980, the band had grown exponentially by 1989, carving a niche for themselves as one of the most musically exciting acts of the decade, coupling melodic riffs with razor-sharp production and a signature use of the latest synthesisers and drum machines.

Over the years records like Blue Monday, Thieves Like Us, Perfect Kiss and Bizarre Love Triangle had become airwaves staples cementing the group as one of the top-draw acts of the era. Coupled with this was the Northern dance scene they were fostering through their infamous 'pills, thrills and bellyaches' club 'The Hacienda' (a combination of acid house sensibilities and Factory Records' vision). It was a Mecca for all things of Manchester music scene. 

Come 1989 New order had not released a full album of new material for three years (the last being the patchy 'Brotherhood' in 1986). Buoyed, I'm sure, by the massive success of True Faith and Quincy Jones's prolific remake of Blue Monday ('88) the band embarked on a new set of material with incredible results.

Technique, is one of the best albums of the 80s and a great way to cap the decade. Combining thundering dance tracks with sombre indie rock it is a dark but danceable album showing a group at its zenith - hey, they were even asked to provide the World Cup anthem a year later! 

The album opens with, in my view, the best track of the set ‘Fine Time’ (also the first single off the album). The hypnotic beat of the drum machine and the catchy rhythm of the synth bass collapses into a weird and wonderful club track overlaid by Bernard Sumner’s idiosyncratic vocals. Clever effects and a liberal use of production combine to make this a memorable song that perfectly captures the flavour of the UK music scene during this period... others might disagree with this sweeping statement but I am sure they will not find fault with this track. 

This quickly descends into a slice of New Order stock fodder, will familiar production and a good melody ‘All The Way’ is a solid but unremarkable tune and weirdly fits alongside the previous, seemingly incongruous cut. Much the same can be said for ‘Love Less’ at no.3 which masterfully plays to Graham Hook’s signature bassline technique.

This slight, melancholy air is then obliterated by the next tune, ‘Round And Round’ the albums second single taken from the album. It’s a frantic and claustrophobic number, incorporating - dare I say it - a similar keyboard sound to that found on Phil Collin’s 1985 smash ‘Take Me Home’ (I am sure there are indie fans everywhere groaning at that comment). ‘Round and Round’ musically is New Order through and one might be forgiven for thinking that is structurally resembles ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ - although I am sure devotees of the band will disagree. Whatever, it is a standout track. 

Suddenly we are transported back to the incarnations of group for ‘Guilty Partner’, an atmospheric mid album number full of melancholy, not a favourite but not unlistenable as is the third single from the album ‘Run’, which marches on at a steady pace, made up for by it’s slow pace with some great work on the rhythm guitar. 

‘Mr. Disco’ is another dance orientated number with industrial sounds, heavy use of sythesizers, perfect for the pilled-out clubber of the day, zapped out of their mind on the shores of Ibiza (or more likely Bolton). Again, not one of the best, but pleasing. Luckily, this is followed by a top tune, ‘Vanishing Point’. Perhaps I like this because it is so of the New Order sound I prefer sharing the same name as one of my all-time greatest films. The echoey vocals and clever arrangement create a track that can be listened to over and over. 

The final number is another melodic, indie track and I think a unbefitting close to a brilliantly constructed album. ‘Dream Attack’ with its use of acoustic piano and spare production is good but I rather feel that it should have been scheduled earlier in Technique. Still, no matter. A great album and one that I thoroughly recommend to anyone looking for something to belt out loudly across South London as the sun shines and the beer and BBQs flow! 

LA cops are told to play by the rules… Shotgun (1989)

I had put it off for too long, I thought, as I supped a pint of bitter and enjoyed a fine Bolivar No.1 at the Rose & Crown. One of my loyal readers had long badgered me for a particular film review and I had continually demurred. Now, in a more philosophical mind, sheltering as I was beneath an outdoor heater as the cold wind whipped around me, I thought it high time that I shared this film with the general public. For one reader, at least, it will come as a welcome surprise, others will bay for my blood at having introducing them to this truly eccentric motion picture... So let me set the scene.

1989 was a year of many seminal events: the collapse of the Berlin Wall, the start of the Gulf Conflict, the birth of my younger brother, Hugo Rubinstein, the resignation from the UK Cabinet of Geoffrey Howe, the seventh season of popular Jersey-based crime drama Bergerac, Tyson vs Bruno, Arsenal winning the league... I could go on. 

It was not, however, a seminal year for cinema with some highly disappointing films rising to the surface, remember this was the year that Driving Miss Daisy won the best picture award at the Oscars! Only a few diamonds lurked amongst the general coal stock of celluloid rubbish: Black Rain; The Last Crusade; Uncle Buck; Kickboxer and Lethal Weapon 2 couldn't make up for a number of turkeys: 

• Ghostbusters II (dire - especially Peter McNicoll's role - a poor man's Rick Moranis)
• Licence to Kill (one of Bond's most disappointing outings)
• The Abyss (more like the Abyss-mal)
• Troll 2 (famously regarded as the worst film ever made) 
• Born on the 4th July (sanctimonious rubbish masquerading as high drama) 
• Dead Poets Society (a banquet of mawkishness)

Then there are films that you just cannot put your finger on, these special features that defy good or bad but just fall into a category of unadulterated brilliance. No, I am not talking about John Matuzak's 'One Man Force' or Don Johnson's 'Dead Bang', I am talking about the seminal  Stuart Chapin and Riff Hutton buddy-cop vehicle 'Shotgun' <click to see trailer>.

Released against the backdrop of the collapse of communism and the cultural vacuum left by the ending of Miami Vice, shotgun was made to tackle some of the major issues affecting people in the USA: narcotics, prostitution, police welfare, gun crime, shifting consumer values and border control.

Set in a fictious, but all too real LA, two cops, the hard-done-by and world-weary Ian Jones (Chapin) and Max Billings (Hutton) are on the trail of a grim English lawyer, Rivington, who likes murdering call girls in his spare times using S&M sex as his weapon of choice (a biting piece of satire from the writers of the screenplay, indicting the exponential growth of the hardcore porn scene during the 1980s). It’s tough, gritty realism told masterfully through some edgy shots, punchy material and hard-boiled dialogue

Our duo cut a fine pair, with Jone depicted in very much the style of the day: ginger ponytail, cowboy hat, Arran sweater, jeans and trademark naval overcoat - if ever there was a cop look this was it! Billing, a more senior figure, pressed and pressured by the rigours of the job is the ‘yuppie’ of the two, a family man with his eyes on the top job. He has a wife and kid, he needs the steady income of a desk job whereas Jones, the maverick, merely needs the succor of his badge and the bottom of a whisky bottle. However, sometimes Billings lets his hair down, much to the viewer's relief (as we become so involved with the lives of these two over the course of the flick) and dons a leather jacket and trucker cap to go ‘undercover’ in some of South Central’s seediest districts. 

For much of the plot they pursue the evil Rivington and his cocky sidekick, known only as ‘Rocker’ through fleshpots, dirty video stores and old skool hip hop night clubs . As much as there is the great thrill of the chase, this film could also be seen as a picture of a city in urban decay. The director using a very jerky rough-cutting editing method and low quality filming equipment merely emphasises the plight of those trapped in a downward spiral to destruction. 

As the two cops pick up leads across town, delving more and more into Rivington’s sleazy empire things start to become personal. When the boys start getting too close the corrupt lawyer decides to send a warning shot, gunning down the protagonist’s ‘only blood relative’, his sister. 

Sitting in the dimly lit bar following the ordeal, Chapin, an actors’ actor if ever there was one, delivers one of the finest, most poignant monologues in film history which exhibits how important family loyalty is to this film. Yes, it may be a booze drenched passage, but it smack of Bukowski, delivered from the heart and convincing the viewer that Jones and his sister had a unique bond now cruelly severed by a hideous villain. Hutton is also no slouch, offering an understated, quiet majesty to his intense performance as a close friend, the shoulder to cry on... you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. 

Chapin is a master of versatility, at one moment a mild mannered, almost zen-like in his approach, the next a copper-on-the-edge-of-a-nervous-breakdown. His eyes blazing with intensity, he quits the force in a flurry of confusion involving oranges been chucked at senior officers and some diarrhea-based analogies. He impulsively becomes a bounty hunter, giving an insight on the bleak prospects that await an ex-cop trying to make ends meet in the late 80s. Tragedy strikes again as his former, newly promoted ex-partner, Billings is gunned down by the bad guys because, like a horny dog, Ian Jones had been caught sniffing tail at close range one too many times. 

Like the special amp in ‘This is Spinal Tap’ , Jones cranks it up to notch 11. This time it’s personal, it’s one thing to kill his sister, but to critically injure his partner is another matter all together and so, in the same vein as other great buddy cop films, I’m thinking ‘Tango & Cash’, ‘48 Hours’, ‘Beverley Hill Cop’, ‘Stakeout’ and ‘Running Scared’ this one ends with a spectacular gun fight. Without giving too much away it involves a custom-made tank, a gun-toting English toff wearing a panama hat, a cravate and smoking a cheroot, a over-fortified Mexican hacienda, massive explosions and of course the film’s signature shotgun. It’s a rollercoaster and you need to get yourself on board to enjoy this non-stop ride. 

At the end of the day a film is only as good as its sum parts, where the script sometimes might falter Chapin and Hutton knock the ball right out of the park with bravura performances, defying the populist Academy and Screen Actors’ Guild to deliver a film that both shows the vulnerability of South California detectives but also opens up the seedy underbelly of a consumer society obsessed by cheap thrills. Is this a must see? I think yes!