9 Songs, 37 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

Despite major-label marketing and an assist from filmmaker John Hughes, The Psychedelic Furs never quite fit into any easily defined mold in the '80s. Truth is, The Furs oozed pop in a kind of Warholian way, owing as much to The Velvet Underground as the postpunk hullaballoo reverberating out of England. This 1984 album found the band in L.A., with rising producer and Giorgio Moroder protégé Keith Forsey (Billy Idol, Simple Minds) nip-and-tucking their gloriously convoluted sonics into late-night soothers and the occasional ringing rock anthem. The album found homes both in lonely bedrooms of smart teenagers and on turntables at big-city dance clubs. Forsey managed to smooth Butler’s dirty-croon-meets-dirty-beauty aesthetic without ruining anything cool: the graceful (“The Ghost in You”) the anthemic (“Heaven”), and the acerbic (“Here Come Cowboys”) all find the singer and band in ace form. Even the album title’s a telling double-entendre, mocking the band’s own narcissism while embracing their newfound vanity as rising rock stars.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Despite major-label marketing and an assist from filmmaker John Hughes, The Psychedelic Furs never quite fit into any easily defined mold in the '80s. Truth is, The Furs oozed pop in a kind of Warholian way, owing as much to The Velvet Underground as the postpunk hullaballoo reverberating out of England. This 1984 album found the band in L.A., with rising producer and Giorgio Moroder protégé Keith Forsey (Billy Idol, Simple Minds) nip-and-tucking their gloriously convoluted sonics into late-night soothers and the occasional ringing rock anthem. The album found homes both in lonely bedrooms of smart teenagers and on turntables at big-city dance clubs. Forsey managed to smooth Butler’s dirty-croon-meets-dirty-beauty aesthetic without ruining anything cool: the graceful (“The Ghost in You”) the anthemic (“Heaven”), and the acerbic (“Here Come Cowboys”) all find the singer and band in ace form. Even the album title’s a telling double-entendre, mocking the band’s own narcissism while embracing their newfound vanity as rising rock stars.

TITLE TIME

More By The Psychedelic Furs

You May Also Like