As a way to rediscover my vinyl collection, I’m playing an old record each time I work out. The idea is to listen to stuff I haven’t heard in decades, and to get out of my listening rut. So, the rules are:

  1. I go alphabetically by artist, then chronologically within the artist.
  2. I skip anything I own digitally. (This keeps me away from stuff I listen to already)
  3. I skip stuff that is accepted canon.( I can’t think of anything else to say about the White Album)
  4. I reserve the right to skip the second third, fourth, etc. album from an artist I’ve already covered. (After hearing Asia’s first album, Asia’s Alpha has nothing more to offer. I still may go back and listen to Jeff Beck’s Blow by Blow, but I get to pass on Wired.)

This morning, The Boomtown Rat’s The Fine Art of Surfacing

Before Bob Geldof was doing everything he can to save the world, he fronted the Boomtown Rats, then referred to as a punk band. Listening to this, their most successful US release, I’m reminded how everything that everything that didn’t sound like the Eagles got tossed into the bin.

Geldof was a hyperliterate songwriter, a more thoughful, less prolific Elvis Costello. “I don’t like Mondays” is, of course, part of the FM radio canon these days and it does stand out on the LP. But given that it was recorded and released on the previous UK album, that doesn’t surprise. Thirty years later, it still has its edge, even if it’s become something of the “American Pie” of the Goth movement.

The rest of the record, produced by Mutt Lange has those “first listening Bob Geldof blues.” To a Pink Floyd fan, it’s hard to not picture him commanding Rock and Roll SS squads and slicing his nipples off (He starred in the film version of “The Wall”, an experience which he claims to be one of the most miserable experiences in his life). His quirky, nasal voice can be off-putting, but after a spin or two he starts sounding pretty natural, though distinctive. Quirky and upbeat, Surfacing sounds very much like a record of its time, but  stands up well to the 21st century ear. Its hard to sit still for record, and I can’t help but imagine they were a great live band. There’s a vitality and urgency to the playing that makes you want to move.

But all of that masks Geldof’s writing, which is really quite brilliant. Diamond Smiles, Keep it Up or Sleep(Fingers’ Lullaby) are like Tom Waits’ Blue Valentine set in Dublin. His character sketches make me wish he’d take some time to pen a novel or two. And Someone’s Looking At You and Having My Picture Taken are spookily politically prescient.  Lyrically, the album is as dark as can be, rampant with suicides, random killings, overdoses and casual encounters with hookers in dark alleys. But the Rats had em all dancing to it, I’m sure.

This is another record that I’ve been hauling around for thirty years that I should have been playing. Next workout, I’m playing Mondo Bongo.