Published on Jan 9, 2001
Joe Jackson recently released
Night And Day 2, a supposed sequel to his 1982 record of the
same name (without the “2”, of course). Other than the fact that
it’s a pop record, which is something Jackson hasn’t done in nearly
a decade, I don’t really quite see the connection between the two
albums, but I thought it would be a good idea to introduce this
enigmatic artist to “The Daily Vault” by going back to the first
Night And Day and seeing what it was all about.
Night And Day was Jackson’s fifth album in only three years,
and by then his musical career had already taken several left
turns, from the anrgy young Elvis-Costello-ish post-punk of
Look Sharp and
I’m The Man to the more soulful
Beat Crazy to the swing-influenced
Jumpin’ Jive. But even those who thought they were prepared
for anything must have still been shocked by
Night And Day. Suddenly, the man had moved to California,
had presumably come out of the closet (we’ll get to that later),
and was (at least for the most part) happy.
Side one, the “Night” side, evokes the feeling of a bustling,
crazy city. “Another World” leads off the album on a bright note
with a funky salsa-influenced beat, some crazy piano playing that
Billy Joel would be proud of, and an infectious, sing-along chorus.
This is the sort of song that would be just plain fun to play
yourself. “Chinatown,” the sad story of a lost tourist in search of
a Chinese restaurant, recalls Steely Dan in its black humor and
incorporation of far-eastern musical sounds and chords.
Jackson moves onto some social commentary with “TV Age” and
“Target,” the former a dark look at our growing addictions to the
boob tube, including a prophetic statement about HBO when it really
was a new thing, and the latter an ode to that crazy, bustling city
which we’ve already begun to visualize merely by listening to the
album. “Target” also uses that same crazy, jazz-like piano we heard
in “Another World,” once again showcasing Jackson’s ability to
combine several musical influences into a coherent song.
And speaking of combining, Side one is brought to a close with
the classic single “Steppin’ Out,” Jackson’s invitation to a
companion to join him in that city. Don’t deny it, you know the
words; “In a yellow taxi turn to me and smile / we’ll be there in
just a while / if you follow me.” This is one of the few big hits
of the early ’80s that doesn’t sound even the smallest iota out of
date. A subtle but steady thump keeps the song going, but one of
the catchiest four-measure keyboard lines in the history of pop
music propels this song into overdrive repeatedly, and you never
get sick of it. I have heard that four-measure line used by many a
TV newscast or sportscast in cuts to commercials, and I applaud
their choice of a soundtrack every time.
The “Day” side opens with the line “Don’t you feel like trying
something new?” which introduces the other instantly-recognizable
single “Breaking Us In Two.” I’ve often heard the accusation that
this is the same song as “Steppin’ Out” just slowed down to half
the speed. And while it’s true that the two hits share what is most
likely the same synth patch, percussion kit, and of course
Jackson’s unmistakable voice, that is all in all an unfair
accusation. “Breaking Us In Two” is a lilting, vaguely
Latin-american-esque, every-note-means-something ballad that holds
its own with most of the ’80s bubblegum it shared the charts with
at the time.
In general, side two takes longer to grow on you, but is
eventually even more complex and rewarding than the first side.
“(Everything Gives You) Cancer” comes next as Jackson ruminates on
the overprotectiveness resulting from an epidemic. “Don’t work
hard, don’t play hard / you’ll head for the graveyard.” And of
course he exclaims “Don’t play that piano!” as he launches into a
killer solo.
We are treated with the two most difficult-to-get-into tracks at
the album’s close. “Real Men” is one of the most blatantly honest
tunes of the rock era, acting both as an anti-homophobia statement,
and a cutting jab at society’s attitudes of what constitutes
“manliness.” This song was the third single from the album, and of
course was banned from many radio stations’ playlists because it
had the word “faggot” in it, testimony to how little censors really
listen to the context of rock lyrics. “You don’t want to sound
dumb,” Jackson sings, “You don’t want to offend / so don’t call me
a faggot, not unless you are a friend.” From a personal standpoint,
I was ten years old when I first heard this song (fortunately, MTV
was a little more daring), and it was largely responsible for the
exorcism of my own homophobia at a nice early age. Shouldn’t radio
stations be
promoting this sort of thing?
“A Slow Song” concludes the album and releases the tension of
“Real Men” quite nicely; it’s Joe Jackson’s torch song of sorts, a
steamy, almost bluesy, slow jam / waltz that torturously builds up
and quiets down several times, and ends sweetly with a
music-box-like fade-out.
Night And Day has all one can possibly ask for in a pop
record – infectious beats, clever and sometimes controversial
lyrics, fantastic musicianship, and plenty of variety. Several
other of Jackson’s recordings, such as the angry-young-man debut
Look Sharp (1979), the funk and jazz-influenced
Body And Soul (1984), and the cosmopolitan
Big World (1986) are worth listening to as well, but this
album is still Joe Jackson’s biggest must-own.