Album: The Psychedelic Furs
Year: 1980
. . .
For all of the discrepancies between the U.K. and U.S. versions of The Psychedelic Furs, one thing was consistent: the album started with the slow build of “India” and ended with the gorgeous dissonant rant of “Flowers.”
Given how many times the word “flowers” had already shown up in Richard Butler’s lyrics, it really wasn’t surprising that he penned a whole song by that name — though, by that logic, I guess he should have also penned one called “Stupid.”
Opening with Tim Butler pummeling his bass while Vince Ely goes to work on this toms, “Flowers” is instantly set for maximum stun, with lyrics take front and center stage, maybe indicting the flower power hippies the band’s name makes fun of, and maybe not. But one thing is for sure: they’re pretty cutting, both figuratively and literally.
Make a god of politics
Make a god of police
Worship it with automobiles
Worship it with screamsHis body is upon the wall
His teeth are sharp and white
He cuts his feet with razorblades
And out of him comes foul white light
Each verse / chorus sequence is followed by what might be a Duncan Kilburn sax solo, but it’s not really focused in the mix, but rather buried in with the guitars of Roger Morris and John Ashton, nobody really wanting to step forward to take a solo, maybe because they’re worried that Butler will focus his ire on one of them.
Make a god of useless drivel
Sew it at the seams
Float it down the river
Where the sewage is the seaHis body is upon the wall
His teeth are sharp and white
He cuts his teeth with razorblades
And out of him came stupid light
That’s flowers
And, honestly, it doesn’t even matter that none of the instrumentalists really step forward from the rest, as “Flowers” highlights their utterly unique chemistry, each player in utter lockstep with the others. In my post for “India,” I joked that they were basically the Sex Pistols with a sax, but never in their wildest dreams were the Pistols this tight.
Which is why it’s kinda funny that in the end, “Flowers” breaks down, all of the instruments stumbling over each others until it just kind of falls apart. But even that feels planned: they knew that they had to shut it down, or it would go on forever.
Like I said, I didn’t buy The Psychedelic Furs until spring of 1981, and while I instantly loved it, I was still kinda worried about the follow-up: if they did more songs in the same veins as the debut, wouldn’t that just kinda be diminishing returns?
But, of course, I need not have worried, because as good as the debut was, the follow-up would turn out to be one of my very very favorite records of not just 1981, but ever.
“Flowers”
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