By Bea Nield
The Bluetones album ‘Expecting to Fly’, with Bluetonic as the second song on the track, was released on January 31st 1996 and written by Scott and Mark Morriss, Eds Chesters (and Adrian Mitchell). It’s not immune to criticism and has been divisively dubbed “superb and distinctive” by Stephen Erlewine but “rather unremarkable” (‘Fleas Don’t Fly’ review by Vit Babenco). The song was originally released with the title No.11 after it being the 11th track the band ever wrote, but by December 1994 they were already performing it under the name Bluetonic. I should note that Mark Morriss has recently received abuse allegations from and has alleged that he was abused by his ex-wife Anna Wharton. I won’t be commenting on this as it is, obviously, not something I can derive nor publish ‘truth’ from. Instead, I’ve chosen to separate this accused identity from the song and will be observing it as a piece of artwork created in collaboration between multiple people, while remaining aware that the identity of an artist and their actions can often find their way into the artwork. I’ll be referring to the idea of the voice singing as the persona, as it cannot be assumed that the singer is representing his own ideals rather than the (perhaps satirical) ideals of some imagined person.
Bluetonic peaked at 19 on singles charts in October 1995 and was able to remain on charts for just 3 weeks, certainly not beating their most well-liked song ‘Slight return’ from the same album. The album itself did much better, peaking at number 1 on the albums’ charts on the 24th of February 1996, under a month since its release. It remained on charts for 31 weeks, but only held 1 at number 1. Now, the ‘Britpop’ album is relatively unknown, with many people unimpressed by the variation in its quality and lack thereof of the same variation in its composing.
The first 31 seconds of the song is an instrumental opening, and the jaunty tone of the song is immediately set up. It has a similar, perhaps predictable, reliance on guitars and introduces the feel of the hooks as well as the unusual melody in the singer’s voice; it really does display the “requisite melodies and soaring guitars” (Erlewine) prevalent in the album. The persona immediately creates the idea that they “have a little secret” and builds up this fantasy of it as something any rationally inquisitive person would want to know. They decide that “you can’t tell me that I’m wrong”, which reveals to the listener that this persona is not only sure of themselves but is convinced that their audience should be too. The initial points they raise as their main “secret” are that “There’s no heart you can’t melt with a certain little smile / And no challenge should be faced / Without a little charm and a lot of style”. These words of wisdom display an intent for positivity in the face of all, and the idea that an artistic flair is a necessity to survive an increasingly structured world.
While I recognise the supposed importance of these lyrics, I am mainly struck by the conclusion the persona draws: “So don’t put your faith in time”; they go on to discuss that “she heals but doesn’t change”, highlighting a paradox so many choose to ignore. Often, when going through hard times, people are comforted by the idea that time will heal all, and yet this leads to an overreliance on something that does not really have any direct impact on the psychology and physiology of a person (rather our perception of it and the reality, e.g., cellular decay, that occurs within it, does).
The persona reminds their audience that time “doesn’t change” and will ultimately not bend its reality to fit what we want. I interpret this point to mean that we should, instead, strive to achieve our goals and not expect time to change what it cannot and bring us what we have not worked for. Interestingly, the persona takes the opposite approach (in a perhaps satirical turn) and decides “only a fool won’t take the chance to stay the same”, making the audience question how much they (de)value change in their own lives.
Some of the most shocking lyrics, which are what I perceive the build up of the song to be about, are not actually written for this song. Instead, an extract from a poem called “Celia Celia” by Adrian Mitchell is used as a development of the hook (or, rather, the rest of the hook is a counter-development of his work). He’s credited as authoring the song to avoid any copywrite problems.
“When I am sad and weary / When I think all hope has gone /When I walk around High Holborn [“I walk around my house” in song] / [And] I think of you with nothing on.”
By using their altered version of these lyrics, the band emphasises sexuality and particularly voyeurism as one of the main ‘secrets’ they so wish to share with the song’s audience. The “you” they are addressing is left undefined and is presumably a representation of someone the song’s persona lusts after. Altering “High Holborn” to “my house” creates the sense this is more personal and also more relatable, removing the suggestion from the reference of a high-class place. The original poem has a less intentional feel, as though the repeated “when” necessarily predicates the sexual ideation and comes across as more of an admission of accidental focus on the subject. In contrast, the song’s lyrics seem to be a confession of a purposeful, calming act which, in turn, offers a more sinister note. The lines are not obviously prompted in the song, and a large portion of the piece seems to build up to this moment of confession – where the person being, perhaps unwillingly, lusted after is forced to confront the actions of the song’s persona. The lines are delivered with Mark staring directly into the camera in the music video so that the watcher, too, is forced to reckon with the persona’s choices and how they may reflect their own.
In fact, the purposeful nature of the unusual song lyrics is continued when the persona introduces the idea that they “have a list of things I could go over in my mind”, suggesting that this is simply one of many fantasies they have pre-planned, ready to select like a television channel. The listener is left with this unordinary imagery of the persona admitting their shocking imagination to an alternate audience.
Their interpretation of time is also furthered as they decide to “watch the world unwind”, rather than partaking in it themselves. Perhaps, their confession is meant to be a romantic one – they are acting in the most romantic, or sexual, way that they possibly could to their intended audience, if they are constrained to their self-determined reality where anyone who does not let time pass them by is a “fool”. Notably, the confession is not necessarily a lustful or disturbing idea and may, in fact be romantic; this is left to depend entirely upon a context for the song, which we are not given.
They go on to say that “I don’t care ‘cause I’m not asking” regarding the idea that someone may not see things their way. In their defence, why should they waste time – within which they refuse to operate and instead chose hand over controls to an inanimate idea – when they could simply be content with their own opinions? Really, this song raises many questions to the listeners, some of which include philosophical ideas about what the most ‘moral’ or ‘reasonable’ action is when you truly believe yourself to be correct and that your idea will bring you joy. Perhaps there isn’t any need to bring yourself to what others perceive as ‘reality’ if you know it will not make you content.
By 2min 24s, all the lyrics (bar an ending ‘yeah, yeah, yeah…’) have already been sung, and the remaining 1min 45s serve only to repeat and emphasise the ideas already discussed. Even the tone with which they are sung, and the backing melodies do not really change, leaving me wondering if the Babenco was right when they said they ‘Expecting to Fly’ “drowns in a… stream of guitar chords”.
Their scathing review left off with the suggestion that “all the songs evaporate from my memory completely, and I have no wish to listen to it again for a long, long time”. At this point, after listening to it repeatedly to try and form a balanced view, I don’t disagree. I won’t be listening to it again by choice, but I won’t recommend that to you. Instead, I’d suggest you give the song a listen if this review has sparked an interest (or maybe veer off course from it completely if I’ve strayed too far into warding you off).