Thanks to their admittedly preposterous haircuts, featured in some of the most cringeworthy publicity shots of the 1980s, Liverpool synthpop quartet A Flock of Seagulls have become a byword for the perceived excesses of the decade, a trend which culminated in Samuel L Jackson’s character Jules Winnfield mockingly namechecking them in Pulp Fiction’s legendary “hamburger” scene.
A little harsh, given that outlandish haircuts and portentous synth instrumentals with German titles were de rigueur in the early 80s, and as this compilation shows, AFOS were actually a pretty good singles band. ‘I Ran (So Far Away)’ may be as dated as Frank Bough playing Jet Set Willy in a Wimpy Bar but it’s a bloody good pop song. ‘Space Age Love Song’ is simply glorious. ‘Never Again (The Dancer)’ is an early anthem of dancefloor loneliness and alienation (think Robyn’s ‘Dancing On My Own’ in legwarmers). And of course ‘Wishing (If I Had a Photograph of You)’ (brackets were also obligatory in the 80s) is right up there with ‘Don’t You Want Me’, ‘Tainted Love’ and ‘Enola Gay’ when it comes to classic synthpop, from its deceptively profound lyrics (he’s so desperate he doesn’t even want the girl any more, he’ll settle for just a photo) to that aching keyboard hook. All utterly wonderful singles and anyone who disagrees smells of poo. And wee.
But there was more to AFOS than radio-friendly pop hits (and lest we forget, they were bigger in the US than many of their more critically acclaimed peers). ‘Committed’ is spiky post-punk and if someone told you it was an unreleased Wire song you’d probably believe them. ‘Nightmares’ is spooky electro-goth (“Mama Mama I keep having nightmares/Mama Mama Mama am I ill? YOUR MAMA’S GONE BEYOND THE VEIL!!!”). Instrumental ‘Rosenmontag’ would’ve sat comfortably on Jean-Michel Jarre’s contemporaneous Zoolook album, eerie sampled voices drifting across what sounds like a brutal deconstruction of ‘Wishing’. And ‘The Last Flight of Yuri Gagarin’ is Ver Flock’s own ‘Jazz Odyssey’, an ambitious, some might say foolish, attempt to depict the pioneering cosmonaut’s tragic death in instrumental synthpop form.
Obviously it’s debatable that we need 3 or 4 versions of these songs in 2017 – indeed it’s debatable that we needed them back in the 1980s – and many of the ‘rarities’ here are rarities with very good reason. But the good stuff here provides ample evidence that AFOS were more than just a bunch of comedy haircuts, and even if you don’t like the music, consider how wonderful and heartwarming this is – in 2017, and despite the absence of a single shred of evidence (outside the darkest, deepest, scariest depths of online 1980s music forums) that there is any demand for it, someone at Cherry Red curated, produced and promoted a Flock of Seagulls rarities album, and as I sit here tapping my foot to ‘Rosenmontag’, and pondering how even more uncool I could have been if I’d discovered it in 1983, I’m very grateful that they did.
