Robyn Hitchcock

Having left the Soft Boys (and the rock genius of Kimberly Rew), Robyn Hitchcock spent the 1980s searching for a surreal, lyrical, and intimate poetics, in the tradition of the great British eccentrics.

In retrospect, his work seems the effort of a musichall buffoon trying to turn his humble craft into aristocratic art. Psychedelia, which had been the harmonic foundation of the Soft Boys, is now only a pretext; what attracts Hitchcock to certain sounds rather than others is purely their dramatic effect. Often compared to Syd Barrett, Hitchcock shares only partially Barrett’s detached and quirky vein.

The alternation of brilliant works with banal ones, of baroque pieces with spartan ones, is consistent with the far-from-balanced psyche of the singer-songwriter.

Hitchcock’s solo career began with the single Man Who Invented Himself (1981), a vaudeville-style march-step rhythm and blues in the manner of the Kinks, imbued with Dylan-esque existential breath.

The first solo album, Black Snake Diamond (Armageddon, 1981 – Yep Roc, 2008), contains a series of ethereal and astral, tender and crazy dedications, such as Lizard (to Morrison), a slow sensual litany, and Acid Bird (to Barrett), a dreamlike and martial jingle-jangle counted among his masterpieces; as well as dark, hyper-realistic ballads like City Of Shame, “stretched” serenades like Love, and demonic boogies made of pulsations and lysergic progressions: the sinister, tribal Brenda’s Iron Sledge (another classic), the epileptic I Watch The Cars (one of his darkest nightmares), and the anthemic power-pop of Meat. A brilliant, if naive, work, Black Snake Diamond inaugurates an introspective songbook that knows how to employ déjà vu motifs in simple, spontaneous architectures, full of pathos and feeling, immersed in a surreal universe.

Groovy Decay (Albion, 1982), later disavowed, tones down grit and irony, even attempting disco music (Grooving In An Inner Plane, America, and especially Cars She Used To Drive), but still retains moments of brilliant eccentricity in a couple of heart-stopping voodoobilly tracks (Young People Scream and especially 52 Stations) and a couple of demented musichall pieces (How Do You Work This Thing and When I Was A Kid).

In 1983, Hitchcock wrote songs for the punk musichall of Captain Sensible and withdrew into hermitage at his Sussex cottage. The result of this catharsis is I Often Dream Of Trains (Midnight Music, 1984 – Yep Roc, 2008), a predominantly acoustic album, entirely self-performed with almost paranoid devotion. Poor and sparse, the album finds refuge in psychotic, measured choruses (the dixieland spiritual Furry Green Atom Bowl, the march-step blues This Could Be The Way), including two nocturnes for piano, a Salvation Army anthem (Ye Sleeping Knights Of Jesus), two a cappella pieces (including Uncorrected Personality Traits), and serenades of tender madness (Flavour Of Night and I Often Dream). It is the theory of Madcap Laughs made practice.

American black and white folklore imbues Hitchcock’s naïve rhymes with populist and ritualistic moods. The most hilarious gags (the spectral blues of Sounds Great When You're Dead and the “Brechtian” lied I Wish I Was A Pretty Girl) are demented nursery rhymes with dissonant accompaniment, which remain among the classics of his repertoire. This is the album in which his eccentric personality is best expressed, and not coincidentally it also remains his most crepuscular and at the same time most experimental work.

A pivotal turning point in his career is represented by the album Fegmania (Midnight Music, 1985), credited to a new rock formation, the Egyptians, who are in fact the new incarnation of the Soft Boys without Rew. The sound gains grit, class, and disorder, flirting with world music and punk rock. Hitchcock’s humor, which manages to fuse the comic and the tragic of human existence, benefits from these sophisticated arrangements. In a crescendo of unbridled inventiveness follow the Hawaiian chant of Egyptian Cream, the tender jingle-jangle of Another Bubble (one of his happiest melodies), the angelic ballad with criminal lyrics of My Wife And My Dead Wife, the sinister tribalism of Man With The Lightbulb Head, the hilarious breakneck polka-beat of Strawberry Mind, the celestial, frenetic funk-Caribbean hallucination of The Fly, and finally the folk-rock serenade of almost religious intensity Heaven, a breathtaking series of eccentric gags worthy of Underwater Moonlight.

The band also lets loose on the live album Gotta Let This Hen Out (Relativity, 1985).

Element Of Light (Relativity, 1986), one of his most complex and substantial albums, suffers only from indulging too much in the morbid solipsism of this post-hippie anti-hero. The arrangements may be excessive when they attempt to sell his folk-pop with “disco” productions (the march of Somewhere Apart), heavy metal (If You Were A Priest), AOR (Raymond Chandler Evening), and retro (Somewhere Apart), but otherwise they work (Lady Waters has the class of Underwater). The effectiveness of the ethereal ballads based on three- and four-part vocal harmonies (Winchester, Airscape, The Leopard) is also questionable.

Invisible (Relativity, 1986) collects outtakes and unreleased tracks.

Globe Of Frogs (A&M, 1988) is marked by an even more commercial production. A more relaxed and optimistic album than usual, partly inspired by Monty Python humor, it doesn’t add much to a discourse already repeated ad nauseam: the Indian-style pow-wow of the title track, yet another Syd Barrett imitation (Vibrating), etc. Pete Buck of R.E.M. lends a hand on Chinese Bones and Flesh Number One (especially the latter). Unusually driving tracks steal the spotlight, as if Hitchcock were trying to recapture the verve of the early Soft Boys: Tropical Flesh Mandala, Unsettled, Sleeping With Your Devil Mask (which is almost rockabilly), and above all the effervescent tune of Balloon Man, one of his best tributes to the carefree sound of the ’60s. In the same year, as the B-side of a single, comes Legalized Murder, a piano protest ballad.

Queen Elvis (A&M, 1989) continues the progression toward a more elaborately arranged sound in the style of Julian Cope. The arrangements obscure his clear surrealist writing to the point of making Devil's Coachman (sounds like XTC), One Long Pair Of Eyes (an AOR ballad), and Wax Doll (almost Nashville country) barely recognizable. Redeeming these production missteps are Madonna Of The Wasps (a triumph of power-pop and jingle-jangle sounds), the nervous Freeze, and the vocal harmonies of Veins Of The Queen. Buck contributes to four songs. Hitchcock has never been so radio-friendly, nor so unlike himself. As the B-side of a single comes Ruling Class, which is even a saloon-style boogie sung in a cowboy baritone with falsetto backing vocals.

After these somewhat monotonous efforts, Hitchcock wisely returns to the ascetic spirit and sound of I Often Dream Of Trains (which perhaps remains the masterpiece of his solo career) with the album Eye (Twin/Tone, 1990 – Yep Roc, 2008). Equally acoustic and introspective, the record benefits from a delicacy that the earlier model (still immersed in exuberant and heterodox psychedelic philosophy) lacked.
His specialty remains sad love ballads like Cynthia Mask (a piano nursery rhyme with Soft Boys-style vocal harmonies) and Executioner; yet the album overflows with blues (Flash Cartoons), boogie (Clean Steve), rockabilly (Beautiful Girl), folk (Raining Twilight Coast), raga (Glass Hotel, one of his peaks), and pop (Satellite) for solo guitar, even touching everyday speech in Linctus House. These are songs in which perfection and nakedness become synonymous, approaching the zen of rock in Queen Elvis. It’s a mixture blending equal parts Syd Barrett, Bob Dylan, Nick Drake, and Leo Kottke. No one knows how to turn solemn meditations on the human condition into emotionally immediate music with such simple means quite like him.

Perspex Island (A&M, 1991) takes another 180-degree turn: it reunites the Egyptians and once again tries to make Hitchcock a pseudo-intellectual pop singer in the style of John Lennon. The hit is So You Think You're In Love, another small gem in his catalog of innocent ballads, followed by rock tracks like Oceanside (noisy and psychedelic) and Ultra Unbelievable Love, while pushing into the background the ode to solitude in Birds In Perspex, the enchanted fairy tale of She Doesn't Exist, and Ride, a ballad sung in John Lennon’s sentimental register. Buck dominates the album, but it is not necessarily an advantage (see the excesses of Earthly Paradise). Hitchcock tells touching stories that music rarely accompanies with the proper seriousness.

Faithful to the pendulum swing he has accustomed his fans to, Respect (A&M, 1993) is his “electronic” album. The arrangements are not necessarily commercial, but they are even heavier. At times, the result rekindles the surreal sprite that seemed definitively extinguished. Hitchcock hits the mark with Driving Around, halfway between catchy bubblegum and the psychedelic gags of early Pink Floyd, and The Yip Song, strummed frenetically like bluegrass, yet he once again falls into the same trap: the production of the easier-to-consume songs (Railway Shoes) undermines their lyricism, while the arrangements of the more complex tracks (Serpent At The Gates Of Dawn and The Wreck Of The Arthur Lee) are a not-too-original mix of the Beatles’ Penny Lane and the Band’s Big Pink. The “other” Hitchcock takes his revenge with When I Was Dead and Arms Of Love. Even better is the requiem-serenade of Bright Fresh Flower, for organ and acoustic guitar, released as the B-side of a contemporary single.

It’s a shame that Hitchcock panics and releases a series of outtakes recorded between 1981 and 1987, You And Oblivion (Rhino, 1995), which mark another period of weakness.

He returned to his more typical atmospheres with the single I Something You (K).

Moss Elixir (Warner Brothers, 1996) returns to the solo format, which suits him best, but the sad autobiographical reflection of Man With A Woman's Shadow, the dark philosophical meditation of Filthy Bird, and the satirical accusation in Devil's Radio lack both bite and catchiness. The songs that have energy (Sinister But She Was Happy, I Am Not Me) don’t have any narrative. In several places, Hitchcock seems to mimic the Beatles, which is never a good sign (The Speed Of Things, Beautiful Queen seems like an homage to Penny Lane). The album recovers somewhat toward the end with echoes of his past (the driving De Chirico Street and Alright Yeah, perhaps the best track, if only as a good Byrds imitation). It’s the fifth or sixth consecutive flop, confirming that Hitchcock is turning from Syd Barrett into John Lennon.

Greatest Hits (A&M, 1996) compiles material from the period 1988–1993.

Hitchcock has only occasionally managed to spark the flame of his musical genius. Perhaps the true soul of the Soft Boys was Kimberley Rew.

Thanks to his typically British humor, Hitchcock is the natural heir of Barrett. Along with Partridge and Costello, he represents one of the clearest intellects of the British new wave. Beyond Barrett, Hitchcock owes something to Lennon and Davies as well, traces of whom emerge from time to time in his songbook. In the paradoxical choruses of Kingdom, Acid Bird, Heaven, Another Bubble, in the demonic boogies of Underwater Moonlight, I Wanna Destroy, Cars She Used, Brenda, Lady Waters, and in the criminal gags of My Wife, Sound Great, I Wish I Were, and Uncorrected Personality Traits, Hitchcock effectively condenses the entire British school of comic melody.

(Clicka qua per la versione Italiana)

The Jonathan Demme soundtrack, Storefront Hitchcock (Warner, 1998), contains mainly terrific live renderings of old favorites and two new classics, Where Do You Go When You Die and 1974, that betray a melancholy resignation to middle age.

Leaving behind the somber moods of the 1990s, and possibly thanks to collaborators Kimberley Rew (after an 18-year hiatus), Peter Buck (of REM) and Grant Lee Phillips (of Grant Lee Buffalo), plus three quarters of Young Fresh Fellows, the upbeat and bouncy, guitar-driven Jewels for Sophia (Warner, 1999), sounds like a return to form, and specifically to Black Snake Diamond Role. Except for Mexican God, the sinister storyteller is gone and the weird serenader (You've Got a Sweet Mouth on You Baby) and psychedelic rocker (The Cheese Alarm) are back. Viva! Sea-Tac, Nasa Clapping and Elizabeth Jade all match witty lyrics to musical rave-ups the way the young artist used to do.

Compared with its verve, A Star From Bram (Editions PAF, 2000) sounds more like a demo than an album. However, Hitchcock's assett has always been the lyrics, not the music. It's the words that make Daisy Bomb, I Saw Nick Drake, 1974, Adoration Of The City and I Wish I Liked You the near-epics they are. Music matters only in a few atmospheric songs, like The Green Boy. Mostly, this is a man who happens to use a guitar but could as well cut spoken-word records. Kimberley Rew has returned, but his guitar is barely a factor. Only 1974 and We Are The Underneath have a peppery quality that would greatly enhance most of Hitchcock's laid-back litanies.

Robyn Sings (Editions PAF, 2002) is two CDs of Hitchcock performing Bob Dylan songs.

Luxor (PAF, 2003) is a collection of sparse acoustic folk that sounds as sincere as outdated.

Spooked (Yep Roc, 2004) continues Hitchcock's quite depressing artistic decline. Gillian Welch and David Rawlings and many more (acoustic) instruments than usual try to compensate the weakness the material. Folk-pop songs such as Television are hardly original, interesting or relevant.

Obliteration Pie (Oak Tree, 2005) collects new versions of old songs, covers, live versions.

Ole Tarantula (Yep Roc, 2006) debuted Hitchcock's new band, the Venus 3, featuring Scott McCaughey on bass (Young Fresh Fellows, Minus 5), Peter Buck on guitar (R.E.M.), Bill Rieflin on drums (Ministry). The album also features Kimberley Rew (Soft Boys), Chris Ballew (Presidents Of The USA), Sean Nelson (Harvey Danger), old British glory Ian McLagan (Faces), etc. In the process, Hitchcock rediscovers his talent at painting tiny frescoes of melancholy surrealism (Museum Of Sex) at the sound of classy garage-rock a` la Soft Boys (Adventure Rocket Ship, Underground Sun) with intermezzos of gentle psychedelia (the six-minute Belltown Ramble, Red Locust Frenzy) and catchy choruses (Cause It's Love ).

Shadow Cat (2008) is a collection of rarities from the 1990s. I Often Dream Of Trains In New York (Yep Roc, 2009) is a compilation of old material that includes a DVD of live performances.

The five-disc set I Wanna Go Backwards (Yep Roc, 2008) collects Eye, I Often Dream Of Trains and Black Snake Diamond plus rarities.

Goodnight Oslo (Yep Roc, 2009), the second album with the Venus 3 (Peter Buck, Scott McCaughey, and Bill Rieflin), is sheer routine. None of the songs sounds particularly original, nor do the diligent arrangements cause more than a slight state of awareness. The Venus 3's Propellor Time (2010) was actually recorded in 2006.

Tromso, Kaptein (Hype City, 2011) contains a spartan version of Raining Twilight Coast and new songs like Erasing Your Life, Living Blue Afternoon, August In Hammersmith, and especially Dismal City.

Love From London (Yep Roc, 2013) featured a new band (bassist Paul Noble, cellist Jenny Adejayan and vocalists Lizzie Anstey, Jenny Marco, Lucy Parnell and Anne Lise Frokedal) performing new songs in the style of the Soft Boys like Love and Death, Strawberries Dress, My Rain, and the six-minute closer End of Time.

The double EP There Goes The Ice (Yep Roc, 2013) collects his five "phantom 45's" including There Goes The Ice (with KT Tunstall on backing vocals), Twitch For Sam Surfer (with Green Gartiside of Scritti Politti on backing vocals) and especially Comme Toujours (with Jenny Adejayan on cello).

The Man Upstairs (Yep Roc, 2014) was produced by veteran producer Joe Boyd, who probably influenced the choice of covers (The Doors' The Crystal Ship, Roxy Music's To Turn You On, the Psychedelic Furs' The Ghost in You). A new original stands out: Trouble in Your Blood (besides a reprise of Comme Toujours).

After moving to Nashville, he recorded Robyn Hitchcock (Yep Roc, 2017), influenced by country-rock (I Pray When I'm Drunk, 1970 in Aspic) but still excelling at his quirky pop (Detective Mindhorn).