theFixx

theFixx

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It can be more than a little difficult trying to separate memories of childhood from retrospective tastes and opinions formed in later years, but I distinctly remember not liking much about the seventies.� You wouldn't think a little boy would care about such things, but seeing old re-runs and movies on television must have made some impression on me of what people should look and sound like, and of course the sounds and fashions of the seventies were quite unlike anything from the thirties, forties, fifties, or early sixties.� The colors (pea green, burnt orange, urine yellow, frequently distributed in plaid or puke-like patterns) were hideous, the hair and clothes all unflattering and misshapen, and the rock 'n roll, at least what usually reached my ears, all seemed rather long and obnoxious and sordid.� And the pop songs of the time were horribly bland, even by a child's taste.� Hearing the Carpenters on my clock/radio never failed to put me to sleep, but fifties tunes or the old jazz and swing records my Dad played usually piqued my interest.�� (Not forgetting that I was a child, the Muppets' tunes held quite a fascination for me as well!� If pressed, I'm certain I could recall the lyrics to "C is for Cookie," though there's not a thumbscrew in existence that would persuade me to sing it for you.)�

It should come as no surprise then that I took a liking to the so-called "new wave" songs that began getting airplay in the late seventies and early eighties.� They seemed to have more in common with the oldies that I liked--they were mostly short songs, with twitchy rhythms and catchy melodies, and quite often featured futuristic-sounding synthesizers, to which (like arcade games, home computers, and the digital wristwatch) I became hopelessly addicted.� The future had arrived!� Despite one babysitter's best efforts to turn me away from this new music (by playing her 45 of "My Sharona" over and over on my Dad's portable record player one night; oh, the agony) I felt inclined to listen to little else for much of my childhood.�

The explosion of cable television in the early eighties meant there was a lot of airtime to fill; consequently a lot of unusual and/or foreign bands got airplay in the States, bands that otherwise never would have cracked the dunderheaded local radio programming.� (It seems all I ever heard on my local stations were Lynyrd Skynyrd and Ted Nugent, ugh.)� There was quite a variety, including bands that seemed simply to want to revive old rockabilly, motown, or swing sounds, punk rock bands (I wouldn't understand what all their anger was about until much later, but I liked 'em if they had a melody,) evolved disco, reggae and ska, electrified folk melodies, goth rock, and so on.� Mind you I didn't know what a single one of those words meant--I simply enjoyed the variety.� And there was one band who really made a unique impression; I wasn't able to get their records and let them grow on me until some years later, but I'm awfully glad I did.� That band was The Fixx.

I couldn't have been older than ten or eleven when I first saw the video for "Stand or Fall."� It's a strange one, with slo-mo of a horse falling over repeatedly throughout.� I can't say I immediately grasped the imagery or poetry of that song or its follow-up, "Red Skies," but I knew it had something to do with the sorry state of the world, and that was something I was more than a little precocious about.� Plus, it just sounded cool, with a crisp rhythm section, a unique guitar sound, atmospheric keyboards and vocoder, and a singer like no other.� Not long after, the radio stations started taking their cue from cable television (and more importantly record sales,) and much of this music could be heard across the States. The Fixx, a British band, ultimately sold most of their records here. �It didn't hurt that some of their songs, especially "One Thing Leads to Another," were quite catchy and danceable.�

Alas, there only was a brief window of opportunity for this new wave to hit American shores, and it wasn't long before corporate execs and demographers (as ever they ultimately do) decided consumers wanted to be bludgeoned with bland music; the lemming-like majority then eagerly abandoned all those strange and interesting sounds they had previously bought with their allowances, lunch money, or college funds.� Bands like The Fixx either died or had to be sought out; they simply were not plastered all over the airwaves any more, except in "flashback" programming.� It's nothing new, really, these cycles happen continually in the music business; it's just heartbreaking when it happens to that particular cycle you latched onto as a youth.�

Fortunately for me and other Fixx-philes, the members of the Fixx remain together, regularly writing and recording new music, and touring.� I enjoy their music more now than ever; it has evolved and matured without losing sight of where it came from.� And thanks to "Al Gore's" information superhighway, it's easy to keep tabs on my favorite band.

In the past I've tried to describe in words their sound, but I don't think I've ever done them justice.� They're just too uniquely electrifying, soothing, and thought-provoking all at once.� Just give them a listen and judge for yourself their merits; at the very least you're bound to learn something about yourself and your own tastes.�

www.theFixx.com - the official website.
www.theFixx.org - the mail list and news service.
www.theFixx.net - forum discussions of The Fixx.
www.sightnsound.org - mp3's of rare Fixx tunes are kept at Steve
Pariseau's site, among other cool things--try "Rediscover."
www.byrneweb.com - Mike Byrne's Fixx homepage is where I first
found internet support for the band, and is still a useful site.

Awhile back I finally got my covetous, chocolate-smudged fingers on the Japanese version of the The Fixx's Ink cd, which is long out-of-print. �I wanted it because A) not even the great wide Pacific will discourage my excessive, irrational zeal for this band, and B) it has a bonus track that's never been available anywhere else, called "Ships are Safe in Harbour." It's apparent why it was left off the album; it doesn't really have a melody, and the chorus is sung a little harshly, at least for my taste.� But it's got its finer points, including lyrics to do with conflicting needs between security and growth.�

Click on the song's title below and download the whole song!

Ships are Safe in Harbour
(Curnin, West-Oram, Greenall, Woods, Brown)

All I live for is now
All I stand for is
Where and how?
All I wish for are magic moments

As I sail through change
My resolve remains the same
What I chase are magic moments

Because ships are safe in harbour
But that is not what
Ships are built for
The mind could stretch much further
But it seems that is not what
Our minds were trained for

The witch hunter roams
The scary thing is he's not alone
He's trying to drown my magic moments

Because ships are safe in harbour
But that is not what
Ships are built for
The mind could stretch much further
But it seems that is not what
Our minds were trained for

We call for random order
You can't control
Mother Nature's daughter
Because ships are safe in harbour
But that is not what
Ships are built for

As we sail through change
Ride the wind of a silent rage
And sing laments of magic moments

Because ships are safe in harbour
But that is not what
Ships are built for
The mind could stretch further
But it seems that is not what
Our minds were trained for

We call for random order
You can't control
Mother Nature's daughter
Ships are safe in harbour
But that is not what
Ships are built for, built for...

The lyrics above are partly from the printed lyrics in the Ink booklet, and partly from what I've heard Cy Curnin actually singing on the track. In the booklet, the English lyrics seem to have been transcribed by someone lacking a full understanding of English (ever tried reading instructions for Japanese-made electronics? Same thing...) so I took it upon myself to correct it as best I could. Cy actually skips a few words when singing it.

All contents, except where otherwise noted, are copyright Andrew Lee Hunn.

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