The Good, The Bad, The Ugly…and The Weird!
In July ’86, our record label, Atlantic Records, sent us to England on a press junket to promote our follow-up single, “Point of No Return.”
Now it needs explaining that both the music charts and the British press have a character all their own. On the Pop charts, things go up and down very fast. Novelty tunes show up there, like “Tie Me Kangaroo Down,” and “I’m Henry the Eighth I Am.” The British Press is known for a certain level of ‘cheekiness.’
When we got back to the states, WEA London sent us a packet of all the press clippings from that junket. A lot of them were kind. “I Can’t Wait” was such a huge hit that it generated massive goodwill around the world.
(Why did we save this? No idea. Here’s the envelope with all the reviews, decades later.)
Valerie and I sat down at the kitchen table in our little apartment on Broadway in Portland and started flipping through the stack.
One of our first interviews was with a ‘journalist’ from the Murdoch tabloid The Sun (of “Page Three Girl” fame). We talked for two whole hours about, well, everything under the Sun (pardon the pun.) After this deep, in-depth conversation, this is what he wrote:
“Valerie Day and John Smith of Nu Shooz are psychic! They always know if the other one’s been ‘Steppin’ Out.’”
Um…Okay.
Flip. On to the next page. Hmmm…Good so far.
“Valerie Day and John Smith’s debut album “Poolside” goes a long way to prove that Nu Shooz will be no mere one-hit wonders, with superb tracks in evidence as “Lost Your Number,” “Don’t Let Me Be The One,” and “Secret Message.”
We kept going...Okay—this next one’s generous.
“Nu Shooz “Point of No Return” Atlantic
Another follow-up to previous acquired mega-action. The bass-line itself will carry this one into the clubs, from where it will slip and slide and act as chaperone to a million passionate exchanges of the sweat-spilling variety. Spine-work in motion.”
Here’s another one:
“In short, the American duo…[note: We were a nine-piece band, not a duo.] seem to know exactly what they’re doing, and it will be a major surprise if they join the ranks of the one-hit wonders. Their first album, ‘Poolside,’ is filled with undemanding white disco and downright dumb lyrics. I love it!”
I will admit that ‘downright dumb’ describes a lot of our lyrics from that era.
Other elements of the ‘Fourth Estate’ had their knives out right away.
“Nu Shooz “Point of No Return”
Boring and mindless effort from a duo trying to strike while the iron’s still hot following the success of the last single. The U.S. husband and wife team began conspiring musically six years ago. Well, if it takes that long to get to this stage of creativity, it’ll take approximately 105 years before we’re treated to something good.”
Ooof. But wait, there’s more!
“Filled with samey sounds reminiscent of the band’s hit, 'I Can’t Wait,' this album should be avoided. Nu Shooz? More like ‘old cobblers.’”
Way to use the Shoes metaphor, there.
“Dance floor favorites Nu Shooz couldn’t wait…[Oh, I see what you did there…] to get their follow-up single out. Trouble is, they should have. Whereas the cute synthesizer break made “I Can’t Wait” a must for the connoisseur of crucial dance floor jamming vinyl, “Point of No Return” is desperately ordinary drum machine disco not fit to call itself a Madonna B-Side."
Ouch…though I kind of agree. “Point of No Return” had nowhere the care put into it that went into “I Can’t Wait.” In fact, I never considered the song to be finished. Oh well.
So now you’ve had a taste of the Good and the Bad, and believe me, there’s plenty more of both, it’s time for the Ugly, or more accurately, the Weird.
“Street-smart electro beat, unfussy vocals, and the best use of the delay switch I’ve heard for a long time. Now all they’ve got to do is change that awful name.”
Hey, I didn’t like our band name for about thirty years!
“Having watched their performance on Top of the Pops a little while ago, I personally feel their strengths won’t just be musical. While Valerie Day will never be called a raging beauty, her visual delivery is very captivating.”
By the time we got to the end of the stack, we had whiplash—one moment we were the best thing since sliced bread, the next we were the cheapest knockoff in the bargain bin.
After we put down the last page, we looked at each other and exhaled. “Well, that was a trip!”
We sat there for a beat, and the same thought occurred to both of us: Reviews aren’t a scoreboard. They’re not a measuring stick. And they’re certainly not the truth.
They’re a pair of eyeglasses, and everybody’s prescription is different. Some reviewers look for joy. Some look for blood. Some just wake up cranky and start swinging.
So, how could we take any of it—the good, the bad, or the ugly—seriously? We just laughed—and turned the page.
I guess the point of this is that, as artists, we need to ignore the opinions of the critics, positive and negative. None of them were present at the moment of creation. And like the fable of the three blind men describing an elephant, their opinions are all over the map. [Uh-oh, mixed metaphor!]
As artists, we put ourselves out there sincerely, fearlessly, and sometimes we’re pelted with roses, sometimes with rotten fruit.
(Once I got hit in the head with a 7-Up can, empty, thank goodness!)
That’s the price of fame.
I think I’ll give the last word to the Bard of Hannibal, Missouri, Mark Twain.
“One thing strikes me with a force it never had before; the unsubstantial, unlashing character of fame. Men lived long lives, in the olden time, and struggled feverishly through them, toiling like slaves, in oratory, in generalship, or in literature, and then laid down and died, happy in the possession of an enduring history and a deathless name. Well, twenty little centuries flutter away, and what is left of these things? A crazy inscription on a block of stone, which snuffy antiquaries bother over and tangle up and make out nothing but a bare name, which they spell wrong.”
Innocents Abroad 1869
