Prefab Sprout: The Greatest Pop Band You’ve Never Heard Of
Prefab Sprout (Photo via Twitter)
“There is no Chicago,” proclaims Prefab Sprout’s Paddy McAloon at the beginning of “Swoon.” That’s probably not true, but it does not diminish the quality of the band’s debut album, Swoon, or its successor, Steve McQueen, both of which are among the best albums of the ‘80s.
The band, formed by Paddy McAloon, his brother Martin, and multi-instrumentalist Wendy Smith, saw both critical and commercial success in the UK, but they seem to be virtually unknown in the US: Steve McQueen peaked at #21 on the UK charts but its US release, Two Wheels Good, only managed to reach #178. While the causes are unclear, this discrepancy must be corrected.
Prefab Sprout are best described as synth-based jazz-pop, setting complex songs in the electronic instrumentation synonymous with the ‘80s. Missing from this classification, however, is the emotional depth that the group’s music captured - the structural and harmonic intricacy is there for a reason, and not merely for its own sake. The result of all this? An inimitable style that’s easy to connect with immediately, and which only improves with each relisten. This style is best represented by the band’s first two albums: Swoon and Steve McQueen.
The latter is the best entry point into the Sprout discography. The opening track, “Faron Young,” is a driving, country-style romp that balances a plucky bassline and banjo with a sinister verse and wide-open chorus. The rest of the album generally weaves back and forth between varying degrees of upbeat and melancholic. The hopeful “Moving the River” tells the story of an ex-prodigy looking to reclaim his lost glory, and the cryptic but danceable “When the Angels” gleefully calls angels “Hard-faced little bastards;” the unconventional ballad “Desire As,” on the other hand, is an adulterer’s lamentation, made beautifully tragic through its refrain (“I’ve got six things on my mind/You’re no longer one of them”) and its slow development of its musical themes (a la Rickie Lee Jones’ “We Belong Together”). Contrast with “Bonny:” the lyrics depict a break-up, but the breezy strum of the rhythm guitar gives the sorrow a lighter touch. Each track is dressed in a shimmering veil of breathy background vocals and echoing synths, with subtle layers that will almost certainly go by unnoticed at first blush.
The band’s debut album, Swoon, is somewhat less accessible than its successor - gone are the soaring choruses and brisk guitar parts. Where Steve McQueen borrows from rock and pop, Swoon is built around funk and Latin jazz. This distinction is clear from the opening track, “Don’t Sing,” with its jagged lines, where the tightness of the verse sees little in the way of release. The mysterious and ominous tone of Swoon did survive in certain parts of Steve McQueen (most notably on “Hallelujah”), but only in a diluted form; that spookiness is in full force on Swoon, and even gets referenced in the title “Here on the Eerie.” The arrangements on Swoon are generally drier, but no less compelling: as Paddy sings on “I Never Play Basketball Now,” “I’m not looking to disturb you/Just a little to unnerve you.” In general, the musical land the album explores feels untamed - or rather, carefully pruned to give the illusion of wilderness. The songs have less typical structures, inconsistent line lengths, and less directional harmony, qualities that can be alienating to newcomers but make the album more alluring on successive relistens.
One constant between these albums is the peculiar quality of McAloon’s lyrics. Paddy often strikes an unusual balance between poetic and nonsensical. Songs like “Desire As” have beautifully written lyrics that fit the emotional core of the music, and critics are quick to lavish praise on McAloon as a wordsmith. At the same time, though, a number of his lines are just baffling: “I’m turkey hungry/I’m chicken free” (“Moving the River”) and “Cool critique of new Gomorroh/Schoolboy crush on Che Guevara” (“Here on the Eerie”) are the two most notable examples on their first two albums, but their most famous is probably “Hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque” (“The King of Rock ‘N’ Roll”). Personally, I think these lines only add to the band’s charm, but they can definitely be a bit jarring.
For those who come out of Swoon and Steve McQueen wanting more, there’s good news - the band has put out six other studio albums, of which the strongest are probably Jordan: The Comeback and From Langley Park to Memphis. Be advised that the band’s sound changes significantly post-Jordan, towards more conventional but well-written pop songs (although those looking to hear more like Crimson/Red will be happy to hear that the mantle has been picked up by even more obscure and entirely unrelated band the Pearlfishers). Aztec Camera’s High Land, Hard Rain also presents a more acoustic and rock-oriented take, although the songs are somewhat less musically sophisticated in their composition. And to those who enjoyed neither album, I highly recommend giving Swoon another listen - it wasn’t until I went through several times in a row during the early days of lockdown that it really “clicked” for me.
Edited by Nate Culbert, editor of Music You Need To Know
Cover art by Melia Allen