Book Review: Truly Gifted Kids (A Book About A Band Called Prefab Sprout) by Nige Tassell

Nige Tassell would appear to be a good choice for a book on Prefab Sprout, coming hot on the heels of his enjoyable ‘Whatever Happened To The C86 Kids?’

And ‘Truly Gifted Kids’ certainly adds something original to the pretty scant literature on Prefab. It’s an eccentric fan’s perspective (Tassell sets out his stall in the first chapter: ‘I would have taken a bullet for them’), starting with a fine summary of their status as 1980s pop-tribe outliers.

Rather than a chronological biography with access to any of the principals, Tassell offers chapters on various notable aspect of Prefab – the ‘God thing’, Thomas Dolby’s production skills, the influence of Jimmy Webb, the making of I Trawl The Megahertz, Paddy’s hearing problems, his legendary ‘lost’ albums etc. Along the way he delivers many unexpected treats for the serious Sprout fan.

As befitting Tassell’s vivid sense of place, he visits the McAloon family home near Newcastle, their famous petrol station in Witton Gilbert and even stays a night at the B&B which was once Paddy’s school (St Cuthbert’s).

He also visits the Brewers’ Arms in Durham, scene of Prefab’s first residency, and the site of Guardian Studios, where they laid down first single ‘Lions In My Own Garden (Exit Someone)’.

A real coup for the book is a lengthy interview with Muff Winwood, legendary Sony A&R man and brother of Steve, who reveals that he was played Swoon by manager Keith Armstrong and immediately offered them an advance of £100,000.

There are some gripes though. Some may balk at Tassell’s chatty, very modern, sometimes over-twee writing style (‘The King Of Rock’n’Roll’ is described as having ‘a chorus that invited the world to sing along’). And the chapter on replaying I Trawl in the London hotel room in which Yvonne Connors performed her narration is pretty excruciating.

It’s occasionally short on detail (which West London studio was used to record Stevie Wonder for ‘Nightingales’?) and there’s probably not enough info on Wendy Smith, and not much about Paddy’s early musical influences (and no index).

There are also some errors regarding the music (the wait goes on for a really decent technical analysis of Paddy’s songs): ‘Cruel’ is not a ‘shuffle’. It’s a bossa nova (straight 4/4, not swinging). The trombone solo on Thomas Dolby’s ‘Hyperactive’ is very much not a Fairlight sample – it was played by Peter Thoms (but there is a flute sample towards the end…). And Nile Rodgers didn’t have any input into Bowie and Jagger’s ‘Dancing In The Street’.*

But overall this is an enjoyably original take and a great summary of how Prefab were seen by the music press in the mid-1980s, especially useful for those were a bit too young to witness it (like this writer). It’s definitely not for the casual ’80s music fan though.

*Your correspondent was sent an uncorrected proof to review. These errors may have been corrected in the final edition – you’ll have to buy it to find out…

Story Of A Song: Prefab Sprout’s ‘Nightingales’ (1988)

Prefab Sprout’s 1988 album From Langley Park To Memphis was their pop breakthrough, reaching #5 in the UK charts, and is probably most casual fans’ favourite.

But let’s take a close look at the fifth track, the epic ‘Nightingales’. Featuring Stevie Wonder on harmonica and released as the fourth single from From Langley Park in November 1988, it remains one of Prefab’s most beguiling songs.

Written by Paddy McAloon under the influence of Barbra Streisand’s Broadway Album, it’s a stellar piece of work by any standards; melody, harmony and lyric are inextricably linked, as if the song had always existed and was just plucked out of the air.

Thought follows thought, musical idea follows musical idea completely naturally, without any songwriter ‘tricks’ such as looped chord sequences or vamps.

It’s fair to say that by the time of From Langley Park’s recording, McAloon was becoming a proficient pianist; eight of ten songs on the album were written on keyboards, including ‘Nightingales’.

Its harmonic concept, with an emphasis on major-seventh chords (including an audacious jump from F#m7 to Cmaj7 in bars four and five of the chorus) and triads superimposed over apparently unrelated root notes, possibly reveals a Brian Wilson influence, but the final effect is more Stephen Sondheim than ‘Surf’s Up’.

‘Nightingales’ also has no apparent antecedents in the 1980s pop firmament, though, at a stretch, approaches one of Green Gartside and David Gamson’s gossamer Scritti Politti ballads.

In a year when Acid House and the ‘Madchester’ sound were gestating and Stock Aitken Waterman ruled the charts, McAloon delivered something unabashedly romantic and somewhat old-fashioned; the opening line (‘Tell me do, something true‘) and general tenor of the lyric are more akin to ‘Daisy Bell’ than anything by the Stone Roses (and Paddy made no secret of his general distaste for late-’80s pop).

The song’s protagonist analyses his love affair, asking his paramour whether their love is fleeting like a ‘firework show’ or whether it’s a lasting, valuable entity. They agree that such questions are unhelpful and/or irrelevant – the key is to live in the moment.

‘Nightingales’ was co-produced by Jon Kelly and McAloon. By 1987, London-born Kelly was an experienced, highly-regarded producer and engineer, probably best known as one of Kate Bush’s key early collaborators on the classic 1980 album Never For Ever.

He had also worked on successful albums by Chris Rea (Dancing With Strangers) and Paul McCartney (Ram) and just produced Deacon Blue’s debut album Raintown, the latter definitely influenced by Prefab.

Double and triple-tracked keyboard parts dominate ‘Nightingales’, played by McAloon and legendary British session player Wix, AKA Paul Wickens. They closely follow the chord voicings of McAloon’s original acoustic piano demo, echoed on this lovely live version from 2000:

By the time of the first chorus, sampled sleigh bells and silky Synclavier drums are added to the mix alongside McAloon’s rather incongruous but effective (sampled?) banjo. Robin Smith’s widescreen string arrangement becomes increasingly prominent throughout the track; particularly notable is a flurry of ascending, almost celestial notes in three distinct phases beginning at 2:14 (and check out the rustle of fake locusts at 4:26!).

Stevie Wonder had long been a hero of McAloon’s, the album Journey Through The Secret Life Of Plants being a particular favourite. Mentioning as much to Prefab manager Keith Armstrong one day, Paddy half-joked that a Stevie harmonica solo on ‘Nightingales’ would really bring the track to life.

Armstrong stunned McAloon by informing him that he was a good friend of Wonder’s operations manager Keith Harris and would put in a good word for the band (it’s also worth noting that Wonder played some sublime harmonica on Thomas Dolby’s ‘Don’t Turn Away’ a year before the recording of ‘Nightingales’ – perhaps Thomas gave the band a good reference…).

Wonder’s harmonica solo for ‘Nightingales’ was recorded in a very rushed session during September 1987 at Westside Studios in Notting Hill, West London. He apparently learnt the song quickly, disappearing into a corner of the studio with a rough mix on his Walkman, and then recorded two takes in the lower octave and two in the higher. The released solo is a composite of the four.

Richard Moakes was the young engineer tasked with capturing Wonder’s solo on tape. According to McAloon:

He (Moakes) looked at me and said, ‘Oh God, I’m a bit worried I won’t know how to get his sound’. I said, ‘Well, look, we’ll just see what happens’. And of course you put the microphone on him and you turn the fader up and he sounds like Stevie Wonder. You don’t do anything. Unless you’re doing something really silly, you’ll get it and it will be identifiable. So I thought, OK, when you play a guitar, don’t blame an engineer if you don’t know what you’re doing…

New York mix engineer Michael Brauer cooked up the 12” version of ‘Nightingales’. He made some drastic changes from the 7” single, placing the sleigh bells right at the front of the mix, reinstating some of Wendy Smith’s stacked backing vocals originally left on the cutting room floor, stripping McAloon’s lead vocal of its reverb (though adding a lot more to the snare drum) and leaving more space for Smith’s string arrangement and McAloon’s banjo.

A video was also made, though it’s almost impossible to track down these days.