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CdeB Mailing List Review
Copyright (c) 1996, Karen Mandel
All rights reserved
Man on the Line
Chris de Burgh
1984
A&M Records
"Man On the Line," Chris deBurgh's seventh studio album and the second of the
only four albums currently available in America, stands as a solid, well-polished piece of
work. Along with "The Getaway," its predecessor, "Man on the Line"
represented something of a new direction for Chris, who was moving from his often
medieval, bard-like style to a more modern, high-tech sound. The charming simplicity of
earlier albums is largely absent here, but this is made up for by Chris's developing sense
of complex instrumental arrangement, along with his mastery of such ever-present elements
as storytelling and musical "picture painting," strong melodies, and sheer
emotional intensity. The songs embody a varied mix of themes, rhythms, and moods, making
Man On the Line an enjoyable journey from beginning to end.
The album opens with "The Ecstasy of Flight," an upbeat number about sporting
and cavorting with fellow creatures of the night. ("The night is alive / (look in the
shadows) / Because now is the time / (look in the shadows) / To be somebody else, complete
transformation / From the someone we are in the day . . .") It's about living for the
thrill of the moment, balanced on the razor's edge of danger and excitement. Most of the
lyrics could be taken simply as the words of someone out for a wild night on the town . .
. but then there are those mysterious phrases hinting at a more physical transformation
("And when the morning begins / I have to get in / Before sunlight can fall upon my
face . . ."). Is the "ecstasy of flight" a poetic metaphor, or something
more? YOU listen and decide! (" . . . ecstasy . . .")
"Sight and Touch" transports us to a soulless "1984"-type future,
in which people's lives are constantly monitored by the governing power. One night a woman
wakes to tell her partner of a strange dream she has had. ("She hears voices in her
mind / Talking of another world, lost in time / Before they took away the words / That
taught us how we used to be / Our history . . .") Learning from the dream, they
discover true passion and love for each other, and the happiness that their lives had
unknowingly been lacking all along. Emotionless "good citizens" during the day,
they now wait patiently for the intimacy of nighttime. The song cleverly illustrates the
contrast of their double lives by alternating between the robotic, synthesized regularity
of the verses, where Chris's voice emphasizes the sharp staccato beat, and the freer, more
relaxed singing and rhythm of the chorus ("Real love and emotion (sight and touch) /
Sweet love and devotion / In such a modern world . . ."). Very cheerful-sounding,
despite the story's setting.
Then comes "Taking It to the Top," in my opinion one of Chris's least
memorable songs. It's a tongue-in-cheek view of the modern-day business world-catchy and
hummable, but without much substance. ("Working on the window of a boardroom in the
sky / Businessmen in suits go flying by / Waiting for the greatest day that they have ever
seen / Selling bridges to the Japanese.") When the whistling comes in at the very
end, you can just picture a happy little executive striding along in his business suit,
jauntily swinging his briefcase. Maybe it's just my own personal reaction, but this is not
an emotionally engaging image. There's nothing really bad about this song . . . just
nothing really gripping, either. Who knows . . . maybe you'll enjoy it more than I do.
We move rapidly from "worst of album" to "best of album" with the
next song, "The Head and the Heart." This is classic Chris deBurgh-romantic, but
realistic as well. Beginning very simply with soft vocals and a tender piano melody, he
sings of a lover who is "here tonight, for this weekend / And a chance to work it out
/ For we cannot live together / and we cannot live apart . . ." As he watches her
sleep, conflicting thoughts about the relationship whirl through his head . . . logic says
they should go their separate ways, but emotion vehemently disagrees. As dawn approaches
the singer seems to have sided with "the voice of reason," but suddenly the
music swells and a yearning cry breaks forth from the heart. Now the scene is a
metaphorical courtroom, with each side pleading its case. Chris's vocals alternate between
the quiet, almost whispered voice of the head-"It's time to let her go"-and the
raw, wrenching outcry of the heart-"I don't want to let her go!" Finally the
music grows calm, and a decision is reached . . . "In this classical dilemma / I find
for the . . ." The first time I ever heard "The Head and the Heart," I
honestly didn't know what the singer's final decision would be, and I certainly won't
spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say that you will ride the emotional rollercoaster
through the song right along with him.
With "The Sound of A Gun" we return to one of Chris deBurgh's favorite
themes-the heavy impact of war on the human spirit. This song depicts a country polarized
by terrorism ("I have seen the diamond stylus / Cut a groove from north to south . .
."), where the sounds of fighting have become so commonplace that when children wake
up crying in the night, their parents just say (in the spoken words of guest vocalist Tina
Turner), "Hush, child, go to sleep / It's only the sound of a gun." There is an
edge to both Chris's voice and the guitar, punctuated by a forceful drum attack. During
the bridge we hear "This is bella soma" repeated over and over-the phrase is
Latin for "the good drug." Another piece of Chris's continuing social commentary
on war? The instruments fade out without losing any of their intensity . . .
. . . launching us straight into Side Two of the album (for those still listening on
vinyl or cassette!) without letting up for a moment. "High on Emotion" begins
with a single sharp drumbeat, instantly followed by a grinding, distorted electric guitar.
The tempo is slow and steady, the beat driving. The most powerful song on the album in
terms of sheer adrenaline, it not only describes but seems to embody the intense
attraction between two people. ("Eyes are holding right across the room / High
explosion coming out of the gloom / Well, here we go again / Living in a world that others
cannot share / Well, here we go again / We are moving from a spark to a flame . . .")
Simply reading the words is misleading-the song is far more evocative than the lyrics
appear on paper. This is Chris at his most charismatic-there is a commanding intensity in
his voice, an electric thrill in each sustained note. The full-throated, no-holds-barred
delivery is so unusual for him to sustain throughout an entire song that it adds an extra
dimension to this track for those who know his music well. One of the album's definite
highlights, and worth revisiting if you haven't heard it since it received minimal airplay
back in the mid-eighties.
In contrast, "Much More Than This" is a lyrical, introspective study of a
relationship that has matured over time. In spite of their deep love for each other, both
partners occasionally fantasize about a romantic interlude with someone else
("Sometimes the woman in you's uneasy / I can see it in your eyes / Just like me you
need to know, can you still fly?"), and in the second verse the singer essentially
admits that this has happened to him . . . but only to ease the pain of missing her when
he was away. The chorus, however, attests to the strength of the love between
them-"It would take much more than this / To break a love so long in the making / It
would take much more than talk or dreams / To shake so strong a foundation . . ."
Here Chris hits an occasional note in a very high, somewhat wavery falsetto-but instead of
detracting from the song, it adds a pleasing air of honesty and conviction. It's as if the
singer is saying to the woman, "I am not afraid of exposing my faults to you, because
I trust in our commitment to each other." Interestingly, from a performance
standpoint, it also demonstrates that Chris takes the same honest attitude with his
audience!
In the title track "Man on the Line" he takes on the persona of someone who
is not secure in his relationship. The singer keeps receiving phone calls from an
unidentified man who says things about his lady . . . and rouses his suspicions. At first
he seems to claim that the caller is just an annoyance ("There's a man on the line /
And he is wasting my time / He calls me every day / He's got nothing to say . . ."),
but it's soon apparent that he is frantic to know why he is receiving these calls. Chris
has thrown in touches of whimsy, from the faraway-sounding Englishman saying, "Hello?
. . . Hello?" at the beginning and end of the song to the wild speculations about why
the mysterious caller keeps calling-"Is he a part of a plan, is he a government
man?" For fans who remember songs like "The Painter," "The Devil's
Eye," "Watching the World" and "Sin City" on earlier albums, this
is an entertaining return to the slightly maniacal type of character that Chris
occasionally enjoys portraying.
"Moonlight and Vodka" is a marvelous mood piece, sweeping you straight into
the (freezing) shoes of a melancholy man at a Moscow bar late one cold winter's night.
Turns out he's a secret agent, and though he's unbearably lonely, he can't risk his
mission for the sake of companionship ("That dancing girl is making eyes at me / I'm
sure she's working for the KGB / In this paradise / (huh,) Cold as ice . . ."). He is
bitterly resigned to his situation, listening to the local band and drowning his misery in
cheap Russian vodka as he reminisces about sunnier, happier days ("Moonlight and
vodka / Take me away / Midnight in Moscow / Is lunchtime in L.A. / Oh play, boys, play . .
."). The vocals sound sad and tired, and the instruments quietly lament in a minor
key . . . this song so effectively draws me into its mood that I'm always glad to see
sunshine through my window when it's over! A perfect example of Chris's ability to evoke
emotions and tell stories through his songs.
The album ends with another gem-"Transmission Ends." Although not the
multi-part "epic" with which Chris often ends his albums, it has some similar
characteristics-a highly dramatic theme, and a movement through different moods during the
course of the song. Beginning with a soft, lilting melody plucked in single notes on a
steel-string guitar, the first words evoke the sweet sea breeze and open sky of a warm
summer's day. The music gently builds as chords are strummed and a soft back beat emerges.
Peace and contentment fill the lyrics. Then comes a newsflash-"News is breaking from
the south / On the radio, on the radio / Brother lead and sister steel / Are playing out
their final scene . . ." With the advent of war, the singer reflects on his love for
the woman by his side. He senses that total planetary destruction may be approaching, and
wonders whether there are other beings in the universe "picking up our signals / As
they spin off into space."
The song builds to the bridge with a rising denial of what is coming- "No, no,
noooooo"-and then crashes in with a desperately heroic "I'm always going to love
you / Yes, I'm always going to love you / Darling, always going to love you / Until the
final day, until the final hour . . ." The song winds down with a radio announcer
stating, "Station Planet Earth is closing down / Transmission ends . . ." and
synthesized sounds that conjure up vast stretches of interstellar space. As the music
ghosts away, we hear a quiet "beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeeep . . ." like the
sound of an EKG monitor going flat as someone dies-here representing the earth itself. But
. . . has anyone else noticed that at the very, VERY end, just as the sound has almost
completely faded away, the steady "beep, beep, beep" comes back? In my opinion,
Chris just couldn't bear to suggest the final end of the human race, and so he put in
those few beeps to signify life and hope for humanity's future. However you view it, this
song gives a strong, thought-provoking finish to a superb album.
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