Nightlife (1999)

The Boys have likened Nightlife to one of Frank Sinatra's concept albums from the 1950s, in which all of the songs concerned a central theme, such as In the Wee Small Hours. Obviously, the central theme of Nightlife is the night. All of the songs either take place at night or deal with nighttime in one way or another. Another underlying concept is aural in nature: Neil and Chris were striving for a particular "sound" on this album, one in which orchestral strings are closely integrated with synthesizers, sequencers, samplers, and other staples of "techno" music. Like Bilingual before it, Nightlife was released in two editions, with the "Special Edition" enhanced with a second disc that included several remixes and b-sides. Unlike the previous album, however, the Nightlife special edition was released only in the United States—a surprising bonus for the Boys' American fans. (album: UK #7, US #84)

Soft, ominous, dissonant chords introduce the opening track on Nightlife, which also served as the opening number of the concerts on PSB's 1999 U.S. tour. Booming bass and multitracked female background vocals heighten a general air of desperation. Neil has stated that "For Your Own Good" is sung from the perspective of a woman waiting late at night for her lover to call, though she knows he's galavanting about. We're left not knowing the outcome of this little domestic drama—at least for the time being. (But if you feel like "skipping ahead," so to speak, check out the album's final track.)

Incidentally, "For Your Own Good" was originally written for or at least seriously considered for inclusion in the Pet Shop Boys' musical Closer to Heaven (more about that just below in the entry for the song with that title), but it didn't make the final cut. Chris and Neil recorded a demo of that early version of the song, with a "poppier," more upbeat sound and slightly different lyrics.

Closer to Heaven

We didn't know it at the time, but this would prove to be the title song from the Pet Shop Boys' 2001 musical created in collaboration with playwright Jonathan Harvey. The title seems to be a pun of sorts, referring both to the track's pervasive, bittersweet "so near, yet so far" blend of joy and sorrow ("Never been closer to heaven—never been further away") and to the popular, almost legendary London gay dance club Heaven. It may even allude to the heaven/hell dichotomy of thrilling but "sinful" sexual activity. That might seem far-fetched until we consider Neil's Catholic upbringing. Even if one has gotten beyond the view of "illicit" sex as sinful, such feelings often remain a subsconcious influence throughout one's life.

Neil has suggested that the British band Babylon Zoo (essentially the guise of Jas Mann) was an influence on this track. At least to the ears of this listener, however, it's hard to hear the connection unless it's in the way Neil's vocals are electronically manipulated throughout.

Many fans were surprised that this marvelous song—seemingly a sure-fire hit—wasn't released as one of the album's singles, but this may have been a long-range strategy related to the musical. That is, perhaps they thought that an alternate version from the musical itself might end up being released as a single instead. As it turns out, the show features several different renditions of this song, though to date none have seen single release. What's more, a four-track promo "sampler" disc of songs from Closer to Heaven featured a "Slow Version" that's nearly six-and-a-half minutes in length. The first half is instrumental, followed by somewhat different lyrics.

I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Any More

The first single from Nightlife (at least in Britain; in the U.S., it was the second single, following "New York City Boy") is another in the Boys' tradition of inordinately long song titles, and it's a textbook study in their patented style of blending dance beats, grand orchestral flourishes, and somewhat depressing lyrics. (They tell a tale of a disintegrating love affair. No new territory there.) The chorus is hardly anything to brag about: it's nothing more than the title repeated four times in an A-B-A-B chord structure, in which the instrumental harmonies change while the words and melody remain the same. Simply taken as a song—that is, only as melody, chord structure, and lyrics—it's one of the dimmer lights in the Tennant-Lowe catalogue. Yet it's performed with such tragic, even epic grandeur that you can't help but admire the thing. The U.S. single version was dramatically remixed by Peter Rauhofer, the man behind Club 69.

Speaking of remixes, a couple of unreleased David Morales mixes include a brief bridge featuring the legendary excised lyric, "If anyone can, the Action Man can" (repeated four times)—a reference to the cartoon character/action figure popular in the late sixties and early seventies. (Neil, who once worked for Marvel Comics, counts an Action Man figurine among his collectibles.) These lines were a holdover from a very early version of the song, which was originally written as an answer to Aqua's infamous 1997 hit "Barbie Girl." But although it was his idea to begin with, Chris apparently disliked the end result. So when Neil came up with new "I don't know what you want…" lyrics, they abandoned the Action Man concept altogether. (single: UK #15, US Sales #66, US Dance #2)

The album's fourth track was the last one recorded, reportedly in an effort to mold a single specifically for the U.S. market. An amalgam of music from sources about as divergent as one can imagine—a George Clinton sample combined with a background melody based on Sergei Rachmaninov's "Vocalise"—this number features Neil "rapping" (if you can call it that) in an unusual manner, more conversational than rap's usual declamatory style. The message is clearly optimistic and perhaps even a little didactic, insisting that people can choose for themselves whether to be happy in the face of the troubles life has to offer. (Note the similarity in this respect to "Miserablism.") Interestingly, Neil borrowed the line "I don't think I suit my face" from a diary entry by one of Brian Eno's daughters. And listen closely near the end and you can hear the only audible occurrence of Chris's undistorted voice on the album as he repeats the title phrase.

You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk

The third and final single from the album and yet another in the Boys' tradition of exceptionally lengthy song titles. Much has been made of the fact that this is the closest our heroes have come so far to releasing a country-and-western track, what with its steel guitar (played by studio musician B.J. Cole), prominent acoustic guitar (the latter played by Neil in live performances), and essentially stereotypical "country" subject matter and mood. You might say this is the sort of song that a country artist might perform if he wanted to dip his toes in a bit of techno.

All C&W stuff aside, this is actually one of the more moving songs on the album, with a genuinely touching lyric that Neil has stated was "based on personal experience." This quality is underscored by the superb video, which features Neil and Chris lying amidst a crowd of bodies that suddenly rise and dance, only to collapse again near the song's conclusion. In short, it fairly drips with pathos. This song was at one time planned for the musical Closer to Heaven, to be sung by the gay club-owner to his "rough trade" boyfriend—a character who was dropped from the plot, resulting in the deletion of this song as well. (single: UK #8)

Vampires

Neil has reportedly stated in an interview that this song's lyrics were partly inspired by his seeing a friend doing ketamine in a club. (Ketamine is a dangerous anaesthetic, now used mainly in veterinary medicine, that clubbers have been known to use because of the dreamy "out-of-body" high it can induce.) Stylistically a bit of a shuffle, the lyrics seem straightforward enough: the narrator and the person(s) to whom he's speaking are metaphorical "vampires," presumably because they live their lives primarily at night (remember, the album is titled Nightlife). "I'm a vampire, you're a vampire, too."

But, appropriately enough, there's an even darker edge. What if they're "vampires" also in the sense that they derive their sustenance from others—"sucking their blood," so to speak? If so, the narrator recognizes this fact and, though perhaps with a twinge of regret, embraces it: "It's a reflex, like fear or sex." In other words, it's just the way he is, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Incidentally, the phrase "New Orleans pretty" is probably inspired by Anne Rice's vampire novels, starting with Interview with the Vampire, which are largely set in New Orleans. This song eventually would up in the Boys' musical Closer to Heaven, where it received a notably different treatment.

Stylistically and even lyrically one of the most interesting tracks on Nightlife, one that some critics have cited as demonstrating that Neil and Chris retain a musically adventurous streak. Yet the Boys themselves have professed a somewhat "retro" source of inspiration: they "wanted to make an Eighties-sounding song in the vein of Patrick Cowley," the pioneering San Francisco-based producer of synth-heavy disco music who became an early casualty of AIDS in 1982.

Very much in a hi-energy mode, "Radiophonic" sounds almost like one of Chris's instrumental workouts to which Neil has molded lyrics. Those lyrics focus on an extended metaphor in which Neil compares the feeling of falling in love—and, as he told an interviewer for Manchester City Life, of "lying in bed with a hangover"—with loud, driving, pounding dance music ("like a dub sub-sonic beat-box booming bass under the bed") that permeates your brain and body, staying with you, even remaining a part of you long after you've left a dance club. Quite ingenious.

Incidentally, the word "radiophonic" wasn't coined by the Boys. Rather, it dates all the way back to the 1950s when BBC radio producers began experimenting with the musical potential of electronic sound manipulation. They initially described their experiments as "electrophonics," but found that that term already had a totally unrelated medical usage. So they coined the term "radiophonics" to describe their own work. The "Radiophonic Workshop," as it was called, became best known for having originated the Doctor Who theme music. And Neil has admitted to having been a major Doctor Who fan as a child.

As one of my site visitors has pointed out to me, the Radiophonic Workshop often produced music that most listeners at the time found extremely strange and disconcerting. It's likely that this is the metaphor that Neil is evoking in this song: that love can produce just such a sense of oddness and disconcertedness in those whom it strikes, particularly in its early stages.

The Boys have said, only half-jokingly, that this track exemplifies how they might sound if they were among the teen-idol "boy groups", like the Backstreet Boys and 'N-Sync, dominating the pop charts at the time. In fact, they had considered including it in their musical Closer to Heaven as a song written by the character of "Straight Dave" as a possible springboard for his own music career. So, appropriately enough, this is lyrically a rather mundane little song in which the narrator wonders aloud whether he's "the only one" for his lover, and vice-versa. The melody, however, is quite pretty, and the song overall, taken seriously, is a touching declaration of love. By contemporary boy-group standards it qualifies as a near-masterpiece. The best thing, in fact, about this track is its superb, imaginative production. Just listen to the way Neil and Chris slink their way into it with soft, subtle electronic squiggles and burps after the almost chaotic excitement of the previous song.

This song evolved from an earlier instrumental piece the Boys had written titled "Playing in the Streets," part of which can still be heard in this track's instrumental lead-in. "It sounds like kraut rock," Chris has noted, to which Neil replied, "A bit like Bowie, I think." Neil has often noted the profound influence David Bowie had on him in his youth, and musically this track betrays the Bowie influence perhaps more than any other they've recorded (that is, unless you count their collaborative remix of Bowie's own "Hallo Spaceboy"). Note how acoustic guitar, piano, and phase-distortion are used—very Bowiesque. (Since no one else is credited, that's probably Neil playing the guitar.) This would have been very much at home on any of Bowie's albums from the early 1970s.

The lyrics deal with the way in which we sometimes become romantically, sexually, or otherwise intertwined with people who ultimately prove unhealthy to us. As Neil told an interviewer around the time the album came out, "The new song 'Boy Strange' may sound gay, but the inspiration was two girls I know whose lives have been ruined by picking up men who are gorgeous, who then went on to f___ up their lives." As the closing line puts it, "Why would you inflict him on you?"

An intriguing but purely speculative possible connection is with Joni Mitchell's song "A Strange Boy," which concerns the narrator's relationship with a somewhat immature young man who simultaneously excites and annoys her. But it's perhaps not such an unlikely connection when you consider that Neil has cited Joni's album on which it appears, Hejira, as among his personal favorites.

Another promising hypothesis has been posed by one of my site visitors, who suggests that the designation "Boy Strange" may be an amalgam of the names Boy George and Steve Strange—lead singers of the bands Culture Club and Visage, respectively—both of whom were icons of the early 'eighties "New Romantic" scene (itself heavily influenced by David Bowie) and frequent clubgoers before they gained their pop-music fame. Considering the Boys' obvious interest in pop and club cultures, this is certainly a distinct possibility.

In Denial

Neil and Chris had already long been working on their theatrical musical by the time they released Nightlife. "In Denial" is taken from among the songs they wrote for that show. It's a dialogue between two of the musical's main characters, a middle-aged gay man and his daughter. In this version, Kylie Minogue guest-sings the role of the daughter. Perhaps surprisingly, it manages to succeed despite the fact that here it appears outside the context of a storyline that would presumably lend it even greater strength.

To summarize, the daughter tries to convince her father that he's "in denial" about the negative aspects of his lifestyle—not being gay per se, but rather working nights in a club and constantly pursuing "queens and fairies and muscle Marys [and a] rough trade boyfriend who in his pathetic own way denies he's gay." In the end, they affirm their desire to work through their differences, each hoping that the other still loves him/her. It's extremely interesting, to say the least, to compare this performance to the version in the musical.

It's worth noting that during her 2005 "Showgirl" tour—as documented on her live DVD Showgirl - The Greatest Hits Tour—Kylie performed this song on stage accompanied by a recording of Neil's disembodied voice.

New York City Boy (Tennant/Lowe/Morales)

The second single from Nightlife also proved to be the Boys' seventh #1 dance-chart hit in the U.S. Stylistically it's an outright homage to the Village People, from the small but full-throated male chorus to the dead-on late-seventies disco track. (During the bridge a near-sample of Donna Summer's rendition of "Macarthur Park" can also be heard; it's not really a sample, but comes awfully close.) It's such an homage, in fact, that pre-release rumors had it that the Village People were appearing as guest vocalists. That's not the case—studio backup singers fill that bill. In June 2003 I submitted a question to the official PSB website, asking whether the Boys had ever seriously considered asking the Village People to sing backup on this track. Neil replied, "I think the idea was mooted"—which, considering the British definition of the word "moot" ("debatable") as opposed to the American definition ("dead" or "irrelevant"), means that the idea was probably debated but obviously abandoned.

At any rate, this track (written in collaboration with its co-producer, the prolific DJ/remixer David Morales) seems to be one of those songs you either love or hate: some have derided it as a singular lapse in taste, while others have celebrated it for the rousing tribute that it is. It's noteworthy that "New York City Boy" was the first PSB track to make it onto Billboard's pop chart since 1991's "Where the Streets Have No Name (I Can't Take My Eyes Off You)" (as opposed to the dance charts, where our heroes have been fixtures throughout the nineties). It got all the way up to #53 on the Sales chart without making it onto the Airplay chart, indicating that the single sold extremely well in the U.S. for a single with nary a shard of help from pop radio. No doubt it was the combination of New Yorkers and gay dance-club fans that did the trick.

Regarding the line "If you don't get that mix, it's gone 86," which many people find perplexing, Neil has said that it's American slang for something that has disappeared and is no longer available. Interestingly enough, its most likely roots are also in New York City. While there's some debate about the matter, the most widely accepted explanation is that it originated in the 1920s at Chumley's, a Greenwich Village speakeasy—still in existence but just a plain old bar nowadays—which had a reputation for throwing out disorderly customers. Since Chumley’s address was (and still is) 86 Bedford Street, people would joke that if you went there you might end up getting "86'ed." So perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it refers to something that has been "tossed out" or discarded. (single: UK #14, US Sales #53, US Dance #1)

Neil has said that the album's closing track is essentially a return to the narrative persona of the opening track, in which the long-suffering female protagonist takes comfort in her realization that, as long as her wayward lover does come home to her at some point in the night—and she hears his "footsteps in the dark"—she'll be satisfied. This cut also represents a major stylistic innovation for the Pet Shop Boys; some critics have compared the style to that of late-seventies Neville Brothers, but to this commentator it sounds more reminiscent of early- or mid-seventies soul groups like the Chi-Lites and the Stylistics. (In particular, note the resemblence of the arrangement to the latter group's 1971 hit "You Are Everything.") The use of an electric sitar—a staple of such seventies soul classics—is also new for the Boys. (The credits say it's a guitar, but it sure sounds like an electric sitar.)

I also wonder whether this song may be a very specific nod toward the highly influential American R&B band the Isley Brothers, whose 1977 album Go for Your Guns features a track titled "Footsteps in the Dark." In the Isleys' song, however, the footsteps—real or imagined—that the narrator keeps hearing in the dark aren't those of a returning lover but rather of the paramour with whom he fears his lover is cheating.

Finally, Neil has pointed out that, although they've certainly used choruses and choirs in the past, this track was their first with a full classical choir, which lends the song an almost epic grandeur. It's also superbly produced: if you've never listened to it with headphones, by all means do so! A fascinating and overall quite lovely musical experiment.

Bonus disc accompanying the U.S. "Special Edition"

The following songs also released as Nightlife-era single bonus tracks but do not appear on any Pet Shop Boys album aside from the bonus disc accompanying the limited special edition of Nightlife released in the U.S.

Neil has described this song, originally released as a bonus track on the "New York City Boy" CD single, as a reflection on his own lifestyle before his Pet Shop Boys success and, more significantly, coming to terms with his homosexuality: "Looking back now, I can see the ghost of myself haunting me." He reminisces about his attempt at heterosexuality, living with a woman (his reading of the final line, recalling "getting it on" with her, is positively chilling), in a run-down apartment and socializing in the surrounding neighborhood.

The music is performed at a near-march rhythm and tempo, apparently owing, as other commentators have pointed out, a stylistic debt to Britney Spears's recent debut hit "… Baby One More Time." It atmospherically sets up a mood, but what precisely that mood is proves hard to describe. It's certainly not nostalgia, but what is it? Is it regret and/or guilt at having used a woman that he obviously cared about in an attempt to overcome his gayness?

Intriguingly, Paul Rymer, a dedicated fan of David Sylvian and his band Japan, has pointed out that "The Ghost of Myself" appears also to owe a significant debt, in this case both stylistic and thematic, to the track "Ghosts" from Japan's 1981 album Tin Drum—which, incidentally, Neil has specifically denied. It's not inconceivable, however, that Neil (who has attested to the Pet Shop Boys being influenced by David Sylvian, specifically with regard to "King's Cross") may have unconsciously drawn upon a song associated with this particular period in his own life.

Another bonus track on the "New York City Boy" single. This alternatingly rollicking and atmospheric instrumental was originally provided by Messrs. Lowe and Tennant as the soundtrack, performed live, for the total eclipse of the sun that occurred on August 11, 1999. Hence the title: a total eclipse of the sun is caused by the moon casting its shadow directly on the earth. The more upbeat segments are stylistically reminiscent of the pioneering Donna Summer/Giorgio Moroder synthpop classic "I Feel Love." One of my online correspondents has reminded me of the fact that, as they asserted during a contemporary interview, the Boys ingeniously timed the "beatless" portion in the middle of the track to coincide precisely with the brief interval during which the sun's direct rays are totally blocked by the moon.

This track—which first appeared on We Love You, a rare 1998 compilation created as part of a collaboration between cutting-edge visual and musical artists, and which later served as a bonus track on the "I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Any More" CD single—stands out in three ways:

1. It features British photographer/videographer Sam Taylor-Wood as guest vocalist;
2. It's one of the strangest duets ever recorded; and
3. It's probably the only PSB track that I would have refused to play for my mother since the damn thing is virtually pornographic.

Written by French singer-songwriter Serge Gainsbourg, the original recording was a 1967 duet between Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot that remained unreleased until 1986. The first released version was Gainsbourg's duet with actress Jane Birkin in 1969. It hit #1 in Britain despite (or, more likely, because of) being widely banned there and in many other countries around the world for its overtly sexual content. It has since been covered by numerous artists, perhaps most famously in 1978 by Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder for the Thank God It's Friday soundtrack.

Like the original and nearly all cover versions, the PSB version is heterosexual—well, in a manner of speaking. You see, Sam Taylor-Wood is (for those of you who wouldn't otherwise know) a woman, and taking the co-vocal duties is reportedly a Macintosh computer—although one might also suspect a disguised Chris Lowe. This second voice is rendered in a heavily distorted monotone that sounds more like a machine or perhaps a space alien than a human male. So the cooing, gasping Ms. Taylor-Wood and the emotionless machine/alien repeatedly exchange the provocative line "I/You go and I/you come between your/my thighs" (the pronouns shift depending on who's saying it), with a few other sentences like "Our love is without guilt" tossed in for good measure. It all builds up to what can only be described as an orgasmic climax, with the woman panting "I'm coming!" before collapsing in moans of ecstasy.

So what is one to make of this? Is it indeed an orgiastic celebration of heterosexual passion? But then why the outlandish treatment of the male vocal? It this track actually meant to parody heterosexuality? Or does it parody the common male role in heterosexual relationships, with the man viewed as a "machine" or an "alien" in relation to the woman? It's up to listeners to decide for themselves.

Long before the Boys got ahold of this song there had been speculation as to what the title means in English. "Je t'aime" is obviously "I love you"—no problem there. But the challenge lies with "moi non plus." Literally it translates "me not more," but idioms are surely involved. It has been variously translated as "either me," "me neither," "neither do I," and "nor do I" as well as the literal "me not more," none of which seem entirely satisfactory. Gainsbourg was notorious for his French wordplay that sometimes bordered on nonsense. He once told an interviewer that the song's title was a take-off on something Salvador Dali once said in comparing himself to Pablo Picasso: "Picasso is a genius … me, too. Picasso is Spanish … me, too. Picasso is a Communist … me, neither." Therefore "I love you … me, neither" is probably the most accurate translation of Gainsbourg's intentions. The Pet Shop Boys, however, translate it more sensibly, if more loosely: "I love you … but not more than me." Of course, the meaning of that particular bit of English is also widely open to interpretation. Would you expect anything less?

Some fans, incidentally, have detected in this track a strong stylistic influence of the French electronic duo Air (Jean-Benoît Dunckel and Nicolas Godin), particularly their 1998 album Moon Safari, which was released only shortly before. Both Neil and Chris are professed admirers of Air's music; in fact, when once asked by an interviewer, "If you could be in any other band other than the Pet Shop Boys, who would it be?" Neil replied "Air." Interestingly, Air composed and performed the music for the 2006 album 5:55 by actress/singer Charlotte Gainsbourg, the daughter of Serge Gainsbourg. Air has reportedly cited Gainsbourg as an influence, which raises questions as to whether the Boys may have known this when they recorded "Je T'Aime…" and whether that knowledge may have played a role in their arrangement of the song. Perhaps, though it's also quite possibly just a fascinating coincidence. Adding to this seeming musical cross-pollination is "How Does It Make You Feel?" from Air's 2001 album 10,000 Hz Legend, which employs the same robotic, Stephen Hawking-ish computer voice heard on PSB's "Je T'Aime…." A tip o' the hat back to the Boys? It's difficult to come to any other conclusion.

A slow, ponderous track—another bonus on the "I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Any More" single—that nevertheless has a lot going for it: a gorgeous melody, an adventurous production, and one of Neil's more impressionistic lyrics. Without any background information from its author, it's hard to make out what this song is "about" except that it seems to hearken back an earlier time, the "silver age" of the title, mainly to suggest that it may not have been such a silver age after all, but rather a "silver rage." The music supports this, its plodding rhythm and often metallic sound strongly suggesting the "Industrial Age" of great, powerful steam-driven machines.

Neil has unequivocally stated, however (in the July 1999 issue of Literally), that this is one of his "Russian songs." As he puts it, "The Silver Age is the period in Russia before the First World War…. A period of optimism." Yet the song's pervasive air of foreboding ("earthquakes predicted … a total eclipse of the sun and the moon") hints strongly at the terrible strife that lies just ahead: the war and the Russian Revolution.

But such an understanding is hardly necessary to enjoy this track, which seems to strive more for mood than for meaning. It does so quite effectively: it has reams of mood. But that's pretty much what impressionism is all about, isn't it?

Screaming (Tennant/Lowe/Stephan)

The Pet Shop Boys offered this stomping ditty about obsessive infatuation—more specifically, according to Neil, "written from an obsessive fan's point of view"—for the soundtrack of Gus Van Sant's 1998 remake of Psycho without having seen the film itself. (It's "the easiest way to get a lot of money from Hollywood," as Neil told an interviewer for the German magazine Galore.) As a result, it first appeared on the 1998 Psycho soundtrack. It later resurfaced, in a very slightly altered version, onto the "I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Any More" CD single.

Ordinarily one wouldn't look askance at the narrator's inability to get the object of his affection off his mind. It's actually rather run-of-the-mill stuff for pop music. But in the context of Psycho, it's downright disturbing. Equally odd is the break in the middle of the track, where the music and rhythm all but drop out altogether, leaving atonal, weirdly distorted vocalizations of the title. Innovative, to be sure, but it somehow doesn't come off very well.

Otherwise the music, co-written with keyboardist Tom Stephan (aka Superchumbo), is very much in the latter-day vein of "Shameless" and "Delusions of Grandeur," in which it would seem that Neil and Chris allow over-the-top production to serve as a shorthand for irony. This had been a terrific device previously, but by 1998 it was starting to get old. Still, it was great to see the Boys making a serious bid to reinstate themselves in the good graces of mainstream U.S. pop music, even it did prove somewhat futile.

In Issue 20 (July 1999) of the PSB fan-club publication Literally, the lyrics for an "unreleased version" of this song were provided along with those of the released version. Among these are lines ("I'd like to know … why when we're born underneath such a clear sky, we're lost in the forest at dusk when we die") that, in a slightly modified form, would shortly turn up in "Happiness Is an Option." Except for the identical chorus ("Guess there's no place to hide …"), these alternate lyrics are so radically different not only in wording but in rhythmic structure that it seems likely that this unreleased version has an altogether different melody, at least for the verses. It would be wonderful if the Boys could see fit to release this other version someday.

Release (2002)

Most of the Boys' first album of the 21st century was recorded at Neil's country home in northern England. Because they felt ready for a 180° turn after spending so much time working on the highly "synthesized" music of Closer to Heaven, it turned out to be quite a departure for them: a "rock ballad album" that features generally slower songs with a greater guitar presence than ever before. To facilitate this new "guitar sound," the Boys recruited their old friend and collaborator, former Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr, who appears on more than half of the tracks. And Neil plays a good deal of guitar on the album as well. Nevertheless, many of the guitar sounds are actually samples played by Chris on the keyboard.

A major goal of this album was to create, in Chris's words, "a Neil and Chris record"—a rather "personal" collection that focuses on "story songs," with greater emphasis on lyrics than on Nightlife, strong melodies, and simpler arrangements that demonstrate the Boys' skills as musicians. The album's title, which was provided by Wolfgang Tillmans (the creator of the video for "Home and Dry"), is a multiple-entendre, suggesting emotional release, sexual release, the springtime release of pollen by flowers, and of course the release of a new recording. In particular, Neil considered the album a temporary "release from dance music," which he apparently felt was a bit too prevalent in pop music of the period, as well as a release for him "to put all this personal stuff into the songs."

Speaking of flowers, the CD cover is available in no fewer than six different versions: a standard version (shown above), four "special versions" that appear to be textured or embossed and will be available in different colors—black, red, aqua, and pink, each depicting a different type of flower—and a "Japanese version," which resembles the standard version except the flower is red and the background white. (album: UK #7, US #73)

Home and Dry

The first single from the album, this track introduces the "new sound" right off the bat. The instrumental backing is very much that of a "traditional rock group," including real (not synthesized) drums with a steady midtempo beat, a staccato synth ostinato (vaguely reminiscent of the guitar on Police's "Every Breath You Take"), a pair of electric guitar solos (gasp!), and a much subtler use of synthesizers and samplers than usual for the Boys. Chris is quite pleased with the fact that he and Neil met the challenge of developing an entire song, with several different melodic threads, around a single riff (the aforementioned ostinato).

The lyrics are quite direct, poignant in their simplicity. They're permeated by a mood of mild anxiety arising from the long-distance separation of lovers and transatlantic airplane flights—a mood that Neil concedes has taken on new weight in the aftermath of September 11, though he wrote the words beforehand. The narrator misses his lover, who is far away on business, and looks forward to the day when he's "home and dry." (The expression "home and dry" is apparently unfamiliar to some; it simply means "safe and sound," with the word "dry" referring to one's being "out of the rain," so to speak.) In the meantime, he eagerly awaits his lover's phone call: "You know I'll be here when you call tonight." There's obviously a high measure of trust between these two, and an air of loving confidence pervades the track.

The bridge (in which those "phone lines" are sung) features digital vocal trickery reminiscent of Cher's "Believe"—a gimmicky element that nevertheless works quite effectively in the context of this song. Chris's spoken "We're going home" near the end of the song is a conscious nod to Paul McCartney's matching spoken words at the end of the Beatles track "Two of Us." (single: UK #14, US Dance #44)

I Get Along

From its opening notes on the piano, this song sounds like nothing else the Boys have released. (Then again, you can say that about most of the tracks on this album, can't you?) Somewhat Beatlesque in flavor (note the french horns, fade-out strings, and occasional "preverb" effect—a marvelously rich production), "I Get Along" might as well have been written and recorded in the late 1960s or early '70s. Other writers have pointed out the likely influence of Oasis, although how much of that simply reflects Oasis's own stylistic debt to the Beatles is open to speculation. Its midtempo soft rock beat—often wildly syncopated, the emphasis shifting from measure to measure—gains a harder edge during the chorus, backed by "power chords" on electric guitar. (It practically begs for a live audience singalong.)

Thematically this is a not-quite-bitter post-breakup song in which the narrator affirms, "I get along without you very well." He confesses that he was as much to blame for the breakup as his erstwhile partner, and he tries hard not to hold a grudge. But it's there nonetheless. That's why he so strongly insists that he's getting along "very well" despite his admitted difficulty sometimes holding back the tears. He's whistling in the darkness of failed love, and he's doing his damnedest to make sure that his former lover feels every bit as much regret as he himself does.

As a fascinating sidenote, Neil told journalist Alexis Petridis of the Guardian that this lyric was inspired by British Prime Minister Tony Blair's firing of cabinet member and close friend Peter Mandelson over questionable loan arrangements, effectively turning that incident into a real-life metaphor for "regretful love." And one other thing: an email corresondent has suggested that this song could be interpreted as commentary by the Boys regarding their comparative lack of success in the United States—a kiss-off to a former lover (they did enjoy early U.S. success, after all) without whom they can "get along very well," thank you very much. I can't say that I agree with that interpretation, but you can't deny that it works. As it turned out, "I Get Along" was the second single from Release and quickly became a fan favorite. (single: UK #18)

An interview with Neil and Chris posted on the Boys' official website reveals the genesis of this enigmatic track. Neil was stuck for ideas for lyrics to an appealing chord sequence that Chris had developed. Chris picked up a newspaper and noted a reference to a "birthday boy," which struck Neil as a promising start. It was around Christmastime, which made Neil think of Jesus Christ as a "birthday boy" who also happened to be a figure of martyrdom. This brought to mind a pair of other, much more recent martyr figures: Stephen Lawrence, a black teenager who had been killed by racists in London, and Matthew Shepard, a young gay man murdered in Wyoming. Neil views these two as modern-day Christ figures who had in essence "died for our sins"—young men whose tragic, violent, untimely deaths resulted in greater awareness and understanding ("from pain comes pity"), forcing people, as Neil has put it, to "confront their own hatred."

The line "He's been through all this before" is, in effect, a reference to the words of Jesus (as translated in the King James Version of the Bible), "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." That is, the persecution of another—and particularly of those who are disadvantaged or underprivileged—is tantamount to persecution of Christ himself. (If only more professed Christians would remember that.) The virtual riddle posed by the lyrics ("If you knew his name would you feel the same?") is explained by Neil in this way: "If you knew he was Jesus would you still be killing him?"

The sheer profundity of it all is heightened by the music: a slow, almost dirge-like arrangement provides at times an almost creepy air of mystery and foreboding, yet during the chorus and bridge the melody positively soars, building with sweeping, epic intensity. In sum, it's an incredibly powerful musical and lyrical statement. As such, "Birthday Boy" stands as one of the Pet Shop Boys' great latter-day triumphs.

London (Tennant/Lowe/Zippel)

What a strange song: a beautiful melody, a gorgeous production, but strange nonetheless. It's the story of a pair of deserters from the Russian army who make their way to London in hopes of forging a new life for themselves—which they do, although they wind up resorting to credit card fraud in order to get by. Singing to a largely acoustic backdrop, Neil adopts the role of one of these emigrés, his voice digitally (and oddly) manipulated throughout the song in such a way to exaggerate his usual vocal idiosyncracies. (That famous "catch" in his voice, not unlike that of Johnny Mathis, is particularly accentuated.) In the chorus he urges his comrade, "Let's do it—let's break the law!" After all, since they've come so far as to desert the army and become illegal immigrants, they might as well go all out and become full-fledged outlaws if that's the only way they can achieve their dream of prosperity. ("I want to live before I die!")

It's signficant that there's implicit criticism of both the Russian and British economic systems: one isn't "good" and the other "bad" (though you do get the sense that the Russian system is the worse of the two), but rather both of them seem to encourage criminality of one sort or another. Most who play by the rules are beaten down and demoralized. The narrator's late father served in Russia's war in Afghanistan, and his mother barely survives on a meager widow's pension and grindingly hard work. The piecemeal construction jobs that the protagonists find in London are similarly dead-end and backbreaking. So it's only natural that men "trained to fight" would turn to crime. "What do you expect from us?—" Neil sings bitterly (parodying a common attitude among westerners), "—we come from abroad." Notably, the Boys don't appear to be making any moral judgments about these characters; in the words of the song itself, they simply "tell it like it is," describing the situation and then leaving it up to us to draw our own conclusions.

This, by the way, is the only track on Release that wasn't produced by the Pet Shop Boys and recorded at their own studio; rather, it was recorded in Berlin and produced by Chris Zippel, who also served as engineer, keyboardist, and co-writer (he wrote the verse melody; the Boys wrote everything else). It was originally slated as the third single from the album—and was in fact released as a single in Germany—but plans for any third single, at least in the Boys' native land, were ultimately shelved. (Their U.K. record company, EMI, was reportedly nervous about the line "Let's break the law!" appearing in a PSB single.)

And one other thing: who would have thought that the harsh sound of a circular saw—appropriate enough given the song's reference to a "building site"—could be used to such a pleasingly musical effect?

E-mail

This seems like a surprisingly direct track on an album with so many others that work on multiple levels. Appropriately enough, it opens with sounds that suggest logging on to the Internet and downloading files, but perhaps the most striking thing about it musically is its use of the familiar "West End Girls" chord progression (different instrumentation, different tempo, but the same chords), here backing the at least slightly ironic refrain of "Send me an e-mail that says 'I love you.'" As with the album's opener "Home and Dry," this one concerns lovers who are separated by distant miles. But this time the narrator seems a little less confident of his partner's true feelings. Extolling the virtues of modern digital technology, which makes "time and distance melt away" and facilitates communication among those who are ordinarily very shy, he asks for a simple affirmation: "I'm so insecure—but one thing would make me sure." It's delightful that the Pet Shop Boys could turn the seemingly cold, technological subject of email into such a warm, lovely little song.

Incidentally, one of my own email correspondents has pointed out a probably unintentional irony about this song: that in the spring of 2000 a nasty computer virus was going around, spread via e-mails whose subject line read, "I Love You." Surely the Boys wouldn't knowingly invite a computer virus!

Boasting a somewhat more "familiar" sound for the Boys, this uptempo, strongly syncopated track with sweeping synthesized orchestration comes close to being an instrumental. The only lyrics, sung several times by Neil, are the following three lines:

It's not as easy as it was
Or as difficult as it could be
For the samurai in autumn

Within a deceptively simple framework, the Boys have pulled off something quite remarkable, which can be fully understood only by peeling away its various layers. As befitting its ostensibly Japanese subject matter, the words are in the style of traditional Japanese poetry, striving for economy of language. While it doesn't fit the standard pattern of that most well-known of Japanese poetic forms, a haiku (three lines of five, seven, and five syllables), it's very haiku-like (three lines of eight, nine, and eight syllables). And like a traditional haiku, it focuses on a particular season of the year—in this case, autumn.

But whatever you can say about the style, it seems most likely that the lyric is a metaphor for middle age. The samurai—a noble warrior figure, signifying a willingness to stand and fight against forces of opposition, whatever they may be, human or otherwise—is now in the autumn of his life (or the "September of his years," to paraphrase the title of a classic Frank Sinatra album from the mid-sixties). The lyrics neatly juxtapose present ("It's not …"), past ("… as easy as it was"), and future or alternate possibility ("Or as difficult as it could be …"). It's important to note that it's not a certain future (that would have been "Or as difficult as it will be"), but rather a possibility expressed as a conditional verb. While the past and present are known factors, the future is always tenuous and unknown. So this, the lyrics suggest, is what a noble middle age is all about: knowing that youth, the years of greatest ease (at least in physical terms), are now behind you and that the most difficult years (old age) are still ahead—if you're lucky enough to have any years ahead of you at all—and standing ready to face them bravely, come what may, as a warrior prepared for battle.

This really isn't such a surprising metaphor. After all, Neil and Chris were both in their forties when they wrote this song: unavoidably middle-aged. It was only natural that they should be thinking about what middle-agedness means to them and how they should go about facing an uncertain (and almost certainly more difficult) future as nobly as possible. And could they also have been thinking of their careers: the "ease" of their peak hitmaking years as opposed to the increasing difficulty of remaining near the top of the charts? In short, the Pet Shop Boys are samurais in autumn—which the Boys themselves have confirmed. The title phrase, in fact, came from a German newspaper review of one of their concerts on the Nightlife tour, inspired no doubt by the partially samurai-inspired costumes that they wore for the first part of the show.

Love Is a Catastrophe

This song was written spontaneously in the studio on a bleak, windy day in November. As Neil told interviewer Martyn Dunn, he had said to a friend just the day before, "Falling in love is a catastrophe." His friend replied that Neil should write a song by that name. He didn't think anything of it until the next day, when he heard Chris playing a slow, mournful arpeggio on the keyboard. They decided then and there to build the song around it.

Chris composed the slow, dark, doleful music (which has the unusual characteristic, at least for PSB, of being in 6/8 time), to which Neil wrote the words based on his personal recent experience of profound disappointment in love. As Neil has said, it's "the darkest song I've ever written." In many ways a traditional "big rock ballad," it opens with sampled electric guitar played Chris on the keyboard. Several other instruments gradually join in: drums, bass, another guitar, and, toward the end, subdued synth strings in the background. The effect is one of building anger and disillusionment. And why not with opening lines like these?—"Love is a catastrophe. Look what it's done to me." The mood goes even farther downhill from there. Neil sings the most depressing, hopeless lyrics in the entire PSB canon—and that's saying a lot! In fact, the narrator of this song sounds positively suicidal as he suggests that Fate itself laughs at his plight.

Around the time of the album's release, Neil pointed out to an interviewer that his sister, who was visiting the studio at the time, read the lyrics even before they were recorded; she wound up crying over them. So the dark mood of this song is absolutely real—"and then," Neil says, "you move on."

Here

This song traces its genesis back to the Boys' musical Closer to Heaven. Originally titled "Home" (which does strike me as a more appropriate title), it was going to be sung by the characters of Vic and Billie to Dave as they try to console him after the death of Lee. Dave is seriously considering shucking it all and hopping back on the next boat back to Ireland. But Vic and Billie ask him to stay, persuading him that he has indeed found a home in London with his new friends and his new life: "You've got a home here." Neil, Chris, and their collaborator on the musical, Jonathan Harvey, decided to cut this number late in the show's development. Instead, it appears here in a modified form. The lyrics simply extol the importance of having a place you can call "home," a place where you feel safe, comfortable, and contented. The narrator is telling someone—obviously someone about whom he cares a great deal—that home is "here" with him.

It's interesting to note that the track's recurring synthesizer riff bears a marked similarity to the principal synth line from the Flirts' classic disco song "Passion," written and produced by Bobby O—an important name in the Boys' early history. "Passion" has been cited by Chris and Neil as a particular influence on their decision to forge a career in music. As it turns out, this particular influence would soon become less pronounced. The Pet Shop Boys remixed and somewhat fleshed out the song—some would say they dramatically improved it as well—and released the newer version on the subsequent Disco 3 album.

I hope you don't mind if I go on at some length about this one. This gentle midtempo song evolved from a number that the Boys had previously been working on called "How Lucky I Am." It's written from the viewpoint of an imaginary 18-year-old boy who goes to a rock concert, meets the male star backstage, and ends up going to bed with him. The male star is based on one of contemporary music's most controversial figures, white rap star Eminem. Neil and Chris have often discussed this fact, but even without their acknowledgment there would be ample evidence. For instance, in the narrative of the song the unnamed star wryly asks his smitten fan, "Your name isn't Stan, is it?" "Stan" is the title of one of Eminem's best-known songs—appropriately enough, about an obsessive fan—from which Neil even cops the line "We should be together."

Once again we find the Boys working on multiple levels. Neil and Chris appear to be commenting on an all-too-common phenomenon in the rock music business, in which performers must often adopt a public persona very different from their true selves: their personas are part of the performance. The first tip-off is the fact that the fan is surprised, when he first meets the star, at how polite he is. After all, Eminem and most other rock and rap artists are hardly known for their politeness, at least not as part of their public image. Rather, they must often cultivate a rude, thuggish, and/or irresponsible image in order to maintain their "credibility."

When our young protagonist winds up back in the star's hotel room, where the star suggests they become "secret lovers," he (the fan) ponders aloud why he (the star) is known for being homophobic. Again, the Neil and Chris are suggesting that it's part of the image; gay musicians often hide their true selves and sometimes even adopt a homophobic stance in order to advance their career. Surely the Pet Shop Boys aren't condoning such hypocrisy, but they recognize it as a fact and are here attempting to describe and perhaps explain it.

In terms of the lyrics, Neil does a terrific job of adopting the voice of an 18-year-old; the language he uses is unsophisticated and colloquial, and his viewpoint is rather naive. (He doesn't seem very disturbed at having fallen in love with someone whom he'll almost certainly never see again, at least not in such an intimate context.) He even manages to modify his singing style in such a way that he doesn't sound so much like himself, but rather like the character he portrays.

By the way, I have no idea (and I doubt that Chris and Neil have, either) whether Eminem actually is a closeted gay man. It's fundamentally irrelevant. This song is a fable, a fictional morality tale, in which the character of the star, though based on a particular performer, is clearly not that performer. But beyond the morality tale, this track is also deeply satirical. If Eminem were to take offense at such a depiction of a character so obviously based on him—perhaps even to the point of considering legal action—he should keep in mind that he himself has been subject to lawsuits over his own songs, which he has defended by saying that they, too, are mere satires. The Boys would be able to defend themselves using Eminem's own statements. And I do strongly suspect they're tweaking Eminem for the homophobic statements in his recordings, as if to say, "So, you're into satire? Well, here's some satire for you!" (Then again, Eminem did eventually respond, though in a surprisingly low-key but non-litigious manner.)

In summary, it's quite an achievement that Chris and Neil have fashioned a song that is simultaneously so touching, comical, topical, and downright brazen.

Neil has himself noted that this song expresses the exact opposite philosophy from that of "Love Comes Quickly." That is, the earlier song maintains that love happens to people unwillingly, without their consent. It's not a matter of choice. "You Choose," by contrast, states matter-of-factly that people do choose to fall in love. As a result, those who fall in love must accept responsibility for the measure of pain and sorrow that almost inevitably comes with it. "Choosing to love is risking a lot.… You take a chance and see it through."

Although the situation described in the song is one of losing in love because the other person didn't return that love, I can't help but think of the core message of the film Shadowlands starring Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger, in which death intercedes: "The pain now is part of the joy then. That's the deal." When you open yourself up to the great happiness of love, you also open yourself to great sorrow. You must accept it and move forward.

As one of my email correspondents has pointed out to me, "You Choose" shares with the Nightlife track "Happiness Is an Option" the basic philosophy that everyone is ultimately responsible for his or her own feelings. That is, you may not always be able to control what happens to you, but you can control how you personally deal with it. This song's slow, melancholy, but very pretty melody and arrangement (more or less a traditional rock ballad, dominated by guitar) serves as the perfect vehicle for such a serious, somber message.

It's worth noting that the popular French singer Etienne Daho seriously considered recording a cover version of "You Choose" in 2003, perhaps with Neil and/or Chris guesting on the track. Daho reportedly regards it as a "perfect song." Although this recording and collaboration didn't materialize, Daho has expressed his hope that he will indeed have an opportunity to work with the Boys at some point.

Bonus disc accompanying the U.S. "Special Edition"

The following songs also released as Release-era singles or single bonus tracks but do not appear on any Pet Shop Boys album aside from the bonus disc accompanying the limited special edition of Release released in the U.S. However, the entry for "Sexy Northerner," which also appears on this disc, can be found in the Disco 3 section.

A bonus track on the "Home and Dry" CD single. You might say that this song (originally titled "Tomorrow") expresses a philosophy of "optimistic fatalism." In this midtempo, synth-dominated track, Neil sings in a gentle, high-pitched, almost weary voice, subtly distorted in such a way as to give it a mysterious, other-worldly quality. He seems to be offering advice to those less schooled in the ways of the world than he. Yes, life is tough. Sometimes it's enough to make you feel like giving up. But he wants us to remember that no matter how bad life gets, it will eventually take a turn for the better. You just have to give it time. "Always—summer comes" after the bleakness of winter. This track was seriously considered for inclusion on Release and would have fit quite nicely into the overall sound and mood of the album, but it failed to make the final cut and hence was relegated to "b-side" status.

Early in its development, when the Boys' musical Closer to Heaven was tentatively titled Nightlife, this ditty was intended not only as the title song but also as its closing number. As it turned out, of course, the musical was renamed and the Boys decided to title their 1999 album Nightlife without even bothering to include the song itself. (It's certainly not the first time that a band had set aside an album's would-be title track; for instance, there's Led Zeppelin's "Houses of the Holy," which was omitted from the album of that name, though it did appear on their next album, Physical Graffiti.) They subsequently placed it on the "Home and Dry" DVD single as a bonus track.

Stylistically, this track hearkens in many ways back to the disco-era Bee Gees, right down to the falsetto vocals (multi-tracked by Neil), though it's not as bass-heavy as those classics. (In fact, "Nightlife" comes across as downright airy.) Even thematically it bears a marked similarity to "Night Fever" and "Stayin' Alive": "Nightlife, babe, it's always the same—living the life every night.… looking for light every night." Just like those classic Bee Gees tunes, "Nightlife" implicitly both celebrates and criticizes the partying lifestyle it attempts to describe. That is, while it asserts the emptiness, repetitiveness, and dissatisfaction bred by nightlife, it also makes no bones about how vital and doggone pleasurable it can be. After all, if it weren't so damn enjoyable, why would anybody put up with it?

Friendly Fire

Neil and Chris have three times released their own version of this song from their Closer to Heaven stage musical: first on the four-track "Songs from the musical Closer to Heaven" promo disc—distributed for a single day only (May 12, 2001) with the London Daily Telegraph—and later on the "I Get Along" DVD single and the Release special edition bonus disc. Aside from the obvious difference in vocalists, the Pet Shop Boys' own rendition is extremely similar to the musical's version. And although I personally prefer the PSB performance, this song is nevertheless more appropriately discussed in the context of the musical. So please see the other entry for this song that appears on my Closer to Heaven page.

Break 4 Love (Vaughan Mason)   by Peter Rauhofer + Pet Shop Boys = The Collaboration

Despite the credit to Peter Rauhofer and the Pet Shop Boys, Chris had little involvement with this 2001 release—a cover of a 1988 dance hit by Raze—though he was present when Neil recorded his lead vocal. The recording sessions actually took place during the first half of 2000, originally with the intention of providing one or more new tracks for a possible "best of" anthology that was subsequently canceled. And as it turned out, neither "Break 4 Love" nor the other as yet unreleased tracks that they worked on at the time made it onto the 2003 release of PopArt.

"Break 4 Love" is further distinguished by a remarkable number of "official" mixes (at least 17 to my knowledge, scattered across two CD singles, five somewhat elusive 12-inch vinyl discs, and a few other releases) by Richard Morel, Michael Moog, Ronen Ben Horen and Yuval Urik (aka Friburn & Urik), Mike Monday, Ralphie Rosario, Haim Laroz and Assaf Amdursky, Sunshi Moriwaki, and Rauhofer himself.

I love hearing Neil sing such lines as "Baby, don't you worry, I want to be the man you want me to be," but lyrically—and some might say musically as well—this is a rather unexceptional song. The deep "spoken male vocal" that repeats the title at strategic points throughout is by one Thomas Frenes. An interesting anomaly to watch out for on one of the vinyl discs is that the "Tribeca Dub" plays correctly at 33 rpm, despite the fact that the label says 45 rpm. (The other sides are, however, correctly played at 45.) The collaboration paid off, resulting in a major U.S. dance hit. One mix even made an prominent appearance on TV during a climactic scene of a second-season episode of the U.S. version of Queer As Folk. (single: US Sales #51, US Dance #1, UK Dance Club Play #5)

Disco 3 (2003)

The announcement less than a year after Release of the impending appearance of Disco 3 took everyone by surprise. It's now apparent that the Pet Shop Boys view the "Disco concept" as an ongoing series of remix albums. Rightly or wrongly, however, some observers have also interpreted Disco 3 as a "retrenchment" in which the Boys are attempting to win back those of their core dance-music fanbase who may have been alienated by Release's decidedly non-dance focus. Like Disco and Disco 2 before it, Disco 3 is dominated by remixes of several tracks from the immediately preceding album—in this case, of course, Release. But unlike the two earlier Disco albums, Disco 3 boasts several previously unreleased tracks, making it more than a "mere remix album." Although early reports that the U.K. and U.S. versions would have slightly different track lineups turned out to be inaccurate, Disco 3 was also released in a three-disc vinyl format that features a couple of remixes not found on the CD; an abbreviated two-disc vinyl promo was distributed as well. The cover graphic, by the way, is a photograph of a London skyline at night, the city's lights reflected in the Thames. (Please note that only the songs that hadn't previously appeared on a PSB album "proper" are discussed below.) (album: UK #36, US #188)

It seems odd coming from a band one of whose signature tunes is about not being bored or boring ("Being Boring"), but this song is, as Neil himself has stated, all about "being bored" (or "boredom and partying," as he put it on another occasion). Recorded in late 2000 during the Release sessions but left unfinished until after that album came out, this track is a near-instrumental that nevertheless features the voices of both Chris and Neil, rendered almost indecipherable through heavy distortion. Fortunately, the lyrics posted on the official PSB website come to our rescue. Chris's voice is heard first, repeatedly counting "Seventy, eighty, ninety, party." As the Boys have noted in the April 2003 issue of their fan-club magazine Literally, it's a "count-up" to the millennium.

Meanwhile, Neil's repeating vocals are even more difficult to parse out. As it turns out, he's singing, "It's very nice but it's not what I'm used to—time on my hands." Could this be the Boys' ambivalent commentary about their status in the current decade? Do they indeed have time on their hands? If so, why? Or are they even singing about themselves at all? Could it be some sort of bizarre rumination on the prospects of retirement, looming ever larger before the "Baby Boom" generation? (After all, "70, 80, 90" could also be viewed as a count through one's retirement years.) But with so few lyrics to go on—as with "The Samurai in Autumn," they're rather haiku-like in their conciseness—it's tempting to launch into a frenzy of speculation as to what this song is about. Lyrics aside, it's a totally contemporary-sounding dance track, somewhat in the "electroclash" style, and a superb opening to the album.

Positive Role Model (Tennant/Lowe/White/Sepe/Radcliffe)

      "I reject the notion of being a positive role model to anyone."
                                     – Neil in an interview circa 1994

This is the Pet Shop Boys' own version of the song that served as the closing number of their stage musical Closer to Heaven, and in some ways it's something of a quandary. This thoroughly rocking track, previously released on the German CD single of "London," was recorded in Germany with co-producer Chris Zippel and introduced "live" during their Summer 2000 concerts. The recording incorporates a string sample borrowed from the old Barry White hit "You're My First, My Last, My Everything," thus explaining the songwriting credit.

The lyrics are intensely tongue-in-cheek. Neil has pointed out (again, in the April 2003 issue of Literally) that this song is "a satire about rehab," which explains the "back on everything" line; the narrator finds himself "back on" all of the vices he's been trying to kick. Neil's voice is heavily processed as he repeatedly sings "I want a positive role model"—a mantra often heard from or on behalf of people trying to overcome addictions. Perhaps more pointedly (and more relevant to its Closer to Heaven context), it also applies to young people of minority groups that have been under-represented in the media except in negative ways. (One can't help but feel that Neil is writing here from his own experience as a gay man.) But the examples that the narrator provides of why he needs a positive role model ("My reflection on the street—is that the way I walk? …. I need to change the way I talk") strongly suggest internalized social oppression. While it's true that people—young people in particular—do indeed need positive role models, it's important that we consider how we define "positive." If by "positive" we only mean models that conform to rigid, stereotypical social conventions and expectations, then "positive role models" can themselves be agents (perhaps unwitting) of oppression. A far more positive role model would be one that would help people accept the way they naturally walk and talk—not one that makes them feel that how they walk and talk is somehow "wrong."

As is so often the case, Neil and Chris may be sending a marvelously subversive message—set as usual to a great dance beat that at least partially obscures their intent. But in light of Paul Keating's spectacular version from the musical, I wasn't 100% confident about this interpretation. (See the separate entry for the Closer to Heaven version of this song.) But then the Boys clarified matters when they noted that the two versions have major lyrical differences, and that, in fact, they can be interpreted quite differently in these two separate contexts. In short, the Disco 3 version is clearly satirical, whereas the Closer to Heaven rendition can be taken more at face-value.

Try It (I'm in Love with a Married Man) (Bobby Orlando)

In October 2002 the Boys made their first-ever appearance on BBC Radio's legendary The John Peel Show. Peel's program is a cherished institution of U.K. radio, providing a showcase for music rarely heard in other settings. Much of his playlist consists of tracks by obscure artists, but well-known artists also frequent his show, often providing specially recorded renditions of their hits and/or obscurities of their own. Neil and Chris recorded four tracks "live" in the studio for Peel: "London" and three much older songs that date from the very early days of their partnership, before they scored their first hit. This was one of those three older songs, but the version that appears on Disco 3 is a different recording than the one made during the Peel sessions.

"Try It (I'm in Love with a Married Man)" is a cover of a fairly obscure 1983 dance-club hit written and produced by their early idol and mentor, Bobby O. It was originally recorded by Oh Romeo, one of Orlando's assorted "girl groups." In a 2003 interview that ran in the soon-to-be-defunct "club culture" magazine Jockey Slut, the Boys said that they had wanted to record it with Tina Turner, but those plans came to naught. So Chris and Neil decided to record it themselves. Neil's vocal transforms a heterosexual if adulterous tale into a decidedly "gay" storyline—while remaining every bit as adulterous as the original. Thus they succeed in taking a mildly shocking song and making it considerably more shocking. Of course, Neil may be adopting a feminine persona, as he has done on occasion. But there's nothing about his performance that necessarily suggests a female narrator; most casual listeners would simply assume he's singing from the perspective of a gay male.

The lyric itself is actually quite poignant, emphasizing the narrator's sadness. While such lines as "Do you think about me, darlin', when you make love to your wife?" may seem teasing and taunting at first, later lines underscore the true misery that lies at the heart of such a question: "Do you ever long for me?—as I get down on my knees, as I cry myself to sleep?" More than a plea for an end to loneliness, it's also a plea for compassion: "The world won't understand my affair with a married man." Indeed, since many if not most people have difficulty understanding purely heterosexual adultery, imagine how challenging bisexual adultery must be for them!

As for the music, it's fairly typical early-eighties midtempo disco, with the real "hook" supplied by the vocoderized "Try it, try it—try my love on" refrain (in other words, "Put yourself in my shoes," another plea for understanding), almost certainly performed by Chris. Overall, while the song's not quite as hypnotically enthralling as certain other Bobby O classics—such as the notorious "Passion" by the most successful of his girl groups, the Flirts—it's easy to understand how Chris and Neil could be sufficiently taken with it to "try it" themselves.

London - Thee Radikal Blaklite Edit and Genuine Piano Mix

Somebody Else's Business

Recorded in Berlin with Chris Zippel during the same sessions that produced "London" and "Positive Role Model," this song was originally built around a sample from the Isley Brothers' recording "Behind a Painted Smile," though the sample was later removed and doesn't appear in the final version. Its happy, upbeat sound would seem to belie the song's lyrical content: a surprisingly moving portrait of a heterosexual couple in which the woman suffers from bipolar disorder and/or manic depression. Despite this, the man loves her, enduring her "violent mood swings" complete with otherwise inexplicable bursts of screaming, shouting, crying, and laughing. I say "otherwise inexplicable" because Neil does explain it using an ingenious metaphor: "She's minding somebody else's business." In other words, one part of her bifurcated personality is preoccupied with "minding the business" of the other part (or perhaps parts, plural).

Regardless, this song presents anything but a bleak depiction of their love affair. For one thing, "life is never boring." And although the lyrics acknowledge that she could easily be perceived as "crazy," they also point out that "some say it's just being free." That is, her mental state could be viewed as a "disorder" only in its relationship to the "outside world," which generally demands conformity to certain social standards of behavior. But the female protagonist of this song is "free" of those constraints. The Pet Shop Boys seem to suggest that, though a part of us might pity and/or disapprove of her, another part of us might be more than a little envious.

Incidentally, it has been suggested that this song might be about F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. To be sure, the line "life is never boring" does echo "Being Boring," the title of which was inspired by Zelda Fitzgerald, who indeed suffered from bipolar disorder or something very much like it. But Neil has specifically refuted this interpretation. On the other hand, he has confirmed that "Somebody Else's Business" does indeed contain brief vocal samples ("oooh, oooh…") from the Boys' own "Love Comes Quickly."

Here - PSB New Extended Mix

If Looks Could Kill

This is another of the songs that were recorded for The John Peel Show, but appears here in a different recording with a somewhat more complex, more sophisticated arrangement. "If Looks Could Kill" was apparently written by the Boys back in 1983. Lacking the melodic and harmonic sophistication of their later work, it's nonetheless an enjoyably poppy, uptempo number highlighted instrumentally by a "fuzzy" bass synth (which replaces the organ or organ samples in the "Peel session" version).

According to Neil, this song is about "confronting a very bitchy person." The lyrics, written in the second person, address someone with whom the narrator has an obviously antagonistic relationship. These two people have extremely sour feelings toward each other, as the recurring refrain makes perfectly clear: "I'd be dead if looks could kill." But our protagonist isn't bothered by this near-deadly gaze. In fact, he has become thoroughly inured to it. And the ill-will is hardly one-sided, as the narrator offers a virtual litany of snide put-downs, describing the other person's "tales of woe, droning on and on," and asserting that "you're fooling no one and you never will."

And it would seem that the whole unpleasant affair will soon be coming to some kind of climax: "Welcome to a unique event where we see what you represent." Unfortunately, we're not let in on the precise nature of this particular "event." But we can't help but wonder whether Neil and/or Chris were inspired by real-life events—by someone one or both of them actually knew—when they wrote this scathing diatribe.

Sexy Northerner

Having previously appeared as a bonus track on the "Home and Dry" CD single and the U.S. "Special Edition" Release bonus disc, "Sexy Northerner" is rendered on Disco 3 in its previously unreleased "Superchumbo Mix" by Tom Stephan—who, incidentally, is a former boyfriend of Neil's. It was also issued as a promo single for the dance market. Regrettably, this remix adheres to the now-all-too-common pattern of discarding nearly all of the original song's lyrics, melody, and structure in favor of a rather repetitive beat-fest in which random snippets of the vocal are scattered about in a seemingly haphazard fashion. It's hardly even a "song" anymore. Yes, it's fabulous to dance to. But otherwise it's rather uninteresing—and, in my opinion, a tremendous bore to listen to.

In its original (and vastly superior) bonus-track rendition, the lyrics consist primarily of a string of descriptive, envious, somewhat gossipy phrases that express wonder at how the young man summed up by the title manages to get away with all that he does. Among them: "hanging 'round the clubs, gets in them for free" and "drinks a lot of beer (at least he doesn't smoke)." And on and on in a similar vein. The narrator marvels, "How does he do it?" The real kicker is the bridge, when, in describing one of the best things about this guy, Neil repeatedly sings the delightful line, "It's not all football and fags." In other words, this guy has many more interests and topics of conversation than that. Whether "fags" here refers to cigarettes (the more traditional U.K. meaning) or to gay men (the most common U.S. meaning) is uncertain, but the likely double-entendre is inescapable.

Some fans have speculated that this song may even be about Chris Lowe, or at least loosely based on him; certainly some of the lines fit. After all, he's a non-smoking northerner who, as in the words of the song, "hasn't lost his accent." I'm not so sure that Chris would permit a PSB song to poke fun at him in such a way—but, then again, the Pet Shop Boys haven't hesitated to poke fun at themselves in the past, so why not now? Still, the Boys have insisted that this song is "about no one in particular." (US Dance #15)

Home and Dry - Blank & Jones Remix

London - Genuine Piano Mix

All songs were written by Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe unless otherwise noted.

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