Talk Talk Talk

Every couple of years it happens again: I rediscover the Psychedelic Furs. A band really unlike any before or since — a combination of the Angry Young Voice and a droning kind of psychedelic rock, tinged with buried saxophone and oddly melodic. They just seem to stand on their own. And sometimes I forget about them for a little while, and then something (like shuffle mode, for instance) will bring them to the fore, and then I’m jonesing to hear “Soap Commercial” or “India” again. Or (especially) “Into You Like a Train.” Still regret not getting the version of their first album that came packaged with a T-shirt, but I picked up “Talk Talk Talk” at just the right moment in my life, just as I was discovering The Clash and was ready for anything that went off in a new direction, which the Furs definitely did. Then, of course, “Forever Now” was pretty huge, but even when they had some commercial success, that wasn’t too bad — they came and played a free concert in Walnut Park at SU, which was excellent. And of course, some Hollywood blown-brain decided that a song that may or may not be about a prostitute but certainly isn’t about a Molly-Ringwald-wrong-side-of-the-tracks-turns-prom-queen type would be the perfect song to title un film du Jean Hughes, so “Pretty In Pink” became a big hit. Then came “Mirror Moves,” which didn’t really click with me (it turns out I was wrong; it’s not a great album, but it has several great songs), and “Midnight to Midnight” and they were done. But I kept on listening to those albums, year after year after year. It’s not the lyrics, or the voice, or the music — it’s all three together. The Psych Furs still just slay me.