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1993
Robyn Hitchcock And The Egyptians -- Respect (A&M)
by Jim DeRogatis
The obvious reason Robyn Hitchcock called his 13th solo album Respect
is that he's tired of not getting any. On each new effort, he delivers four or
five irresisitable singles -- as well as some pleasant-but-familiar filler that's still better than the best by many other Pop bands. Unofrtunately, he's been unable to connect with a larger audience beyond his dedicated cult -- partly because of his own willful quirkiness, and partly because A&M seems unable to promote offbeat or Alternative artists (both Soul Asylum and Matthew Sweet went on to greater success at other labels).
To his credit, Hitchcock has never let his frustration tarnish his music -- even when he was making a conscious effort to be radio-friendly on 1992's Perspex Island. On Respect, he's given up trying to please anyone but himself and his longtime band, The Egyptians. And oddly enough, the album is even more accessible than its predecessor.
Producer John Leckie parked the BBC mobile studio outside Hitchcock's home on The Isle Of Wight as Hitchcock, Andy Metcalfe, and Morris Windsor sat around the kitchen table harmonizing. Hitchcock himself decided that the trio's jangly guitars and melodic basslines were becoming a cliche. So the band avoided amplified instruments entirely; performing on acoustic guitar, upright
bass, and such found percussion as Coke can, cheese grater, and tuned
wineglasses.
But Respect isn't some wimpy "unplugged" effort. The 10 songs bristle with the energy of a band that still gets a kick out of playing together after 17 years. "The Yip Song" and "Driving Aloud (Radio Storm)" rank amongst Hitchcock's best and most uplifting rockers, and "Arms Of Love", "The Moon Inside", and "Then You're Dust" are some of his most genuine (and touching)
ballads. The rest of the album follows the tried-and-true Hitchcock formulas
-- "When I Was Dead" and "Railway Shoes" sound a lot like "Sounds Great When
You're Dead" and "Trams Of Old London" -- except for the mock Barry White rap,
"Wafflehead" (which is noteworthy as the worst failed experiment since "Ted,
Woody And Junior" in 1986).
After 13 albums (18 if you count Hitchcock's stint with The Soft Boys), it's inevitable that even the best songwriters will repeat themselves. It just doesn't seem right that critics condemn Hitchcock for it while applauding Neil
Young. What Hitchcock really needs now is a Decade-style boxed set to compile all those unique and wonderful songs scattered throughout his catalog --that and a label that doesn't treat him like Rodney Dangerfield. (9/10)
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