Dustin fired the first round with "Analyze Guided by Voices". I never disliked GbV, but in passing they stood for everything that grated about sloppy-slacker '90s rock. Presentation is as important as songwriting for me, and the '90s were all about not being bothered to dress anything up. Hey, why learn to play your guitar, man? Why even tune it? Why even try?
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| Let's just put a baby in a toilet. Who cares? |
I was wrong about them, though. A great hook will always shine through the shittiest production and clock me right in the brain. Dustin knew this and built a smart playlist around it—he hit me with some of GbV's hookiest material while touring a range of their vast catalog. By the end of the run, I'd found a new respect for the band and I was open to hearing more.
Analyze score: Dustin 1, Jeremy 0
Recently we road-tripped up to the Emerald City Comicon in Seattle, and it was my turn to make a case.
It was time to Analyze Duran Duran
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| You can't control what gets in through the window, kid |
This band was more than good looks and great hooks—darkness pulled against those bright dance beats, and their ambiguous lyrical imagery suggested the kind of Big Life Riddles that strike your adolescent brain like lightning. These guys ran in a mysterious world, and I wanted to live there, too.
It didn't hurt that I was also obsessed with Mad Max around that same time, too, and not long after buying Notorious caught Duran's video for "The Wild Boys," in which they looked a little something like this—
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| Each piece of these jackets serves a purpose, we swear |
Duran Duran wouldn't be an impossible sell here—Dustin and I share a love of angular, late-70s/early-80s post-punk New Wave dance rock (Joe Jackson, early INXS, Elvis Costello, Squeeze, etc.), and his dad had already planted a seed early on that Duran was a serious band with serious chops. The foundation was there.
Still, I had to counter his preconceived bias toward '80s production. As much as I loathe the '90s low-fidelity, that '80s slickness—with its reverb drench and its sexy saxophone—leaves Dustin cold. With thirteen studio albums and a handful of live discs from which to draw, nothing could be left to chance. With a couple of exceptions, I avoided playing any singles or anything that might have outside memories embedded. We agreed that Dustin would approach the band as if hearing them for the first time.
Here's the playlist:
1. Careless Memories (Duran Duran, 1981)
Easing into it, starting with a track that's very much in that angular dance rock pocket. An easy call. Also a great example of the abstract lyrics and sinister undercurrent that runs through the band's musical DNA. We're off to a good start.
2. New Religion (Rio, 1982)
More of the same—setting a welcoming tone. This one also exposes a common Duran songwriting tic of going out on a chorus loop, lingering sometimes a bit too long on the hook. When this song comes out of the musical break and into the final verse, though, with the spoken word lyric weaving through the sung melody, you almost don't notice it's stood on the stage too long. Almost
3. Union of the Snake (Seven and the Ragged Tiger, 1983)
Breaking the 'no singles' edict—I couldn't resist. This song rules. Again, we're staying in the angular lane, but seeing the band's theatricality emerge in force. Even though the song's video isn't part of the argument, I can't overstate how deeply its imagery is encoded in my creative mind.
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| At least doing laundry's easy after the world ends |
They don't come more sinister than this. On a good playlist, flow is as important as song choice, and this was the natural progression from the last track. We're breaking the 'no singles' rule again, but it's worth it to demonstrate the band's changing-yet-consistent sound, and to break the chronological pattern we'd developed. Big Thing, from which this track comes, marked the beginning of the band's mid-career wilderness period, where they had to contend with being a glossy outfit in the unpolished '90s. It's also the first Duran album I bought on release day—and it's still one of my favorites.
5. El Diablo (So Red the Rose, 1985)
At the height of their popularity, the band splintered and derailed their momentum for the next twenty years. Recording So Red the Rose under the name Arcadia, Simon Le Bon, Nick Rhodes, and Roger Taylor pushed their New Romanticism into darker almost gothic territory and produced the best Duran Duran album that wasn't Duran Duran. "El Diablo" isn't the most obvious track, or even the best representation of the album's sound as a whole, but it served its purpose as track 5.
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| They also went through a shit ton of black hair dye. |
Duran Duran aren't given enough credit for their ballads or slower tempo numbers, which is a shame because those tracks are just as strong. "Edge of America" shows the band's hand at creating interesting, melancholic textures. This song just aches. It's also moving us afield of the sure bet angular sound we'd been following. Taking a chance here.
7. Watching the Detectives (Thank You, 1995)
So why not risk it all? Covers are always a dodgy proposition, and this track comes from the band's almost universally panned album of remakes (which is a shame, because there's some good stuff here). Knowing how much Dustin digs Elvis Costello, I knew that even if I didn't have him on board by now, I could completely lose him here. Duran's version of this song is incredible, though. They shift the arrangement and play up the song's already ominous undertones. They make it their own.
8. Hold Back the Rain (Rio, 1982)
The palette cleanser—if "Watching the Detectives" knocked us too far off track, this one would bring us back. Turns out it wasn't necessary, "Detectives" went over really well, which made this track feel a bit redundant. Still a great song, though.
9. Vertigo (Do The Demolition) (Notorious, 1986)
My favorite song on Notorious, holding all the best elements—minor key earnestness over a great beat and under strange lyrical imagery. "Where's the real life/in your illusion/on the dark side of power and confusion…" As a kid I didn't know what this meant, but I thought I did. That moment in the movie in your head when the hero's hope is all lost.
10. Skin Divers (Red Carpet Massacre, 2007)
Jumping ahead twenty years—to another controversial album. Red Carpet Massacre, partially produced by Timbaland, proved the band could still fill a dance floor, and this track was engineered to move your body. Working with Timbaland is double-edged. He brings the beats, but it comes with a heavy hand and albums become Timbaland joints guest starring the band. There's certainly some of that here—Timbaland "sings" the chorus—but there's still a strong enough Duran Duran strand in the DNA to maintain their identity.
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| Or, y'know, a dumb baby chasing a dollar bill… |
12. Blame the Machines (All You Need is Now, 2011)
Both tracks from the latest album. Produced by Mark Ronson, who stripped everything away and brought the band back to their essence. The songwriting is strong, the musicianship is crisp and energetic, and if not for the modern production All You Need is Now could fit right in between Rio and …Ragged Tiger. A lot of new bands are discovering and recreating those New Romantic impulses, but I've yet to hear anyone get it right, or as right as Duran Duran can. Dustin suggested their maturity playing into that. They're thirty years ahead of everyone else.
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| Older than your dad. Still got it. Same goes for Duran Duran. |
Which made rolling back to the start the way to drive that point home. As a debut single, "Planet Earth" is a hell of a statement of intent. Listen to that bass line and tell me John Taylor isn't one of the best players out there.
14. The Chauffeur (Rio, 1982)
Another thing I like—in the early days they'd close an album with an atmospheric instrumental, so I thought I do that, too.
Bonus Tracks:
15. Some Like It Hot (The Power Station, 1985)
During their breakup, when half the band was crafting the best work of their early career, the other half teamed up with singer Robert Palmer before he went supernova (see what I did there?) and made this song for Burger King. Okay, not really—their album has some high points, but this song is forever linked to the Whopper for me. Can't completely diss The Power Station though—they performed the incredibly bad ass (and equally hard to find) song "Somewhere, Somehow" which ran over the closing credits of Schwarzenegger's Commando. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.
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| Bennett is about to let off some steam |
Another obscure oddity—during the band's '90s wandering, bassist John Taylor hooked up with Matt Sorum & Duff Mckagan from Guns N' Roses, and Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols. Together they recorded an album of blistering, tongue-in-cheek punk/garage rock. The Good News is you're dying. The Bad News is I'm alive!
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| Or, y'know, a dumb baby chasing a dollar bill… |
And there we go. With thirty years of material to cover, I left out a lot—but the point wasn't to give a comprehensive overview, it was to prove that Dustin would dig Duran Duran. Mission accomplished.
Analyze score: Dustin 1, Jeremy 1
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