Barry Adamson

Back to the Cat

(Central Control)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

Barry Adamson isn’t as well-known as some of his collaborators over the years (though he’s an icon in certain circles), but he’s had the sort of career that would inspire envy in almost any fledgling artist.  Adamson was a founding member of Magazine and an original Bad Seed alongside Nick Cave.  He’s also collaborated on soundtracks with David Lynch.  And he’s had an almost 20-year solo career in which he’s done pretty much whatever he pleases.

On Back to the Cat, his showstopping eighth album, Adamson is part jazzman, part bluesman, and part old-time crooner - tipping his hat to Jacques Brel, Morrissey, Burt Bacharach and ‘70s funk.  Adamson gets credit for “inventing” the idea of making a soundtrack for a film that didn’t exist, and Back to the Cat fits right into that fictional cinematic world.  It’s the sort of album that makes you feel like a Bond villain.

The noirish “The Beaten Side Of Town” kicks things off, building to a big and brassy conclusion.  Adamson embraces his swingin’ frontman side with relish, putting an almost comical emphasis into his vocals at times, as when he reflects “People­-ahh / They ain’t no good-ahh / Their hearts are made of stone-ahh / Their heads made out of wood-ahh” (“People”).  The sentiment is bleak and darkly comic at the same time, and even though his tenure as a Bad Seed has long since expired, it makes it easy to imagine Adamson and Cave enjoying each other’s company.

The one knock on the album is that the front half is substantially stronger than the second; the psychedelic jazz of “Flight” conveys a mysterious mood, but doesn’t beg for repeat listens, and the poppy “Civilization” is the one track on the album that sounds dated in a bad way instead of dated in a very cool way.

The best songs include “Straight ‘til Sunrise,” which is Bacharach in its sunny sound but Cave in its undercurrent; the protagonist’s baby is done gone for good, and, hmm, the protagonist just may have something to do with it.  Dead folks flare up again in “Shadow Of Death Hotel,” albeit only in the title - the track is a wicked instrumental that stirs up memories of big bands and retro funk.  A happier sort of hotel - a “love hotel” with a vacancy - figures into the torchy “I Could Love You,” which features a surprise burst of falsetto and “ooh baby baby” backing harmonies.