| Released in the summer of 1978 and cruelly denied the Number One spot by the decidedly non-New Wave Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, Black and White--The Stranglers' third studio album--found Guildford's gruesomely confrontational punks persisting brilliantly with their angrified and melodiously intoxicating melange of Hugh Cornwell's scrubby telecaster guitar, Dave Greenfield's burbling psychedelic keyboards and Jean-Jacques Burnel's brutally flatulent bass. That said, the album marked a noticeable departure from the antagonism and political incorrectness of No More Heroes. Deadpan pessimism featured prominently on Side 2 (the "black side" in old vinyl terms) courtesy of the apocalyptically grim "Enough Time" and the Cold War neurosis of "Curfew". Burnel spouted the memorable line "Bring me a piece of my Mummy, she was quite close to me" on "Threatened" and also paid tribute to controversial Japanese poet Yukio Mishima on the almost funky "Death And Night and Blood". Cornwell, in comparision, was relatively jovial, satirising the sterility of Scandinavian life on "Sweden" ("too much time to think too little to do") and penning a memorable joyriding ode in the spirit of "Fun Fun Fun" or Chris Spedding's "Motorbikin'", except this one was called "Tank". Black and White's less morbid moments included the elongated (and probably the best ever version) of Bacharach & David's "Walk On By" (imagine an instrumental, New Wave version of Deep Purple), the biblically-versed punk-reggae of "Nice 'n' Sleazy", the epic "Toiler On The Sea" and the ungainly mesh of punk noise (including Laura Logic's squawky toy sax) that was "Hey! Rise Of The Robots" ("They're gonna want a union soon, oil break that's dead on noon"). A brilliant record, true, but the best was yet to come. Kevin Maidment |
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