tracks on LP: Seven Sports For All | No More Blue Horizons (Fool, Fool, Fool) | Feel To Be Driven Away | Some People I Know To Lead Fantastic Lives | Christian | African And White | Are We A Worker | Red Sails | You Never See It | Temptations Big Blue Eyes | Jean Walks In Fresh Fields
Record label: Virgin V2243
Released: November 1982
Borrowed: 1983 (Kenny Wardhaugh)
CHINA CRISIS ‘Difficult Shapes And Passive Rhythms’ (Virgin V2243) **** 1/2
ANYTHING THAT spreads itself around too much becomes devalued in time and, sadly, synths have joined that ever increasing bracket of disposable commodities on my Stock Exchange.
God be with the days when the synth was used as an extension of music, an additional contribution to atmosphere and flavour, an emotional instrument.
Now that every two-bit outfit has one as a matter of course, competition to produce innovative possibilities becomes the major issue and emotion takes a back seat. But not for everyone.
China Crisis are one of the few outfits that use the instrument without creating resoundingly hollow space-age precision; but that’s not to say they’re not professionals.
Retaining the moody, mellow ambience of more fluid music, this album gently insinuates its way into your consciousness, low-key softness and luxurious atmospherics combining to relax and delight even the most ‘digitally’-oriented ear.
China Crisis | Difficult Shapes And Passive Rhythms | (Virgin) 1982
Most bands exhibit some self-conscious indecision on their first LP but China Crisis give us a blast of purely confident indulgence . . . and it works!
Lyrically mature and uncluttered, the songs are full of subtle imagery and demanding power — though to label the sides of the disc ‘right wing’ and ‘left wing’ leaves me a bit stumped.
Certainly their songs are political but only four tracks are overtly so and even then they’re not coloured red or blue; instead, they define and defend the dignity of the individual within these regimes.
‘Are We A Worker’ and ‘African And White’ are two of the most powerfully emotional songs I’ve heard in a long while, and could be the — signature tunes for any human rights organisation. (If I’m making them sound twee or part of the bandwagon, I definitely don’t mean to — I think China Crisis are one of the most individualistic contributors to that stagnating field of work for some time.)
“They’re Japan rip-offs,” bellows Valac over my shoulder. Sorry son but I don’t agree. Japan have always had a hollowness of soul, an innate frustration that I don’t see here.
China Crisis, I don’t doubt, will stick to their guns, maintain a balanced independence, and prove me right! (Sounds, 13/11/82)
Although it claims to have an ‘entertainment’ side and a ‘difficult’ side, China Crisis’s first LP is consistently gentle and entertaining. They write pretty melodies (and counter-melodies), intelligent but unobtrusive words, and give their songs delicate, dry arrangements, pulsating with muted rhythms and synthesizer and guitar lines. As audio furniture, it’s a bit stripped pine but I think it’ll wear fine. (Smash Hits, November 1982) (7 1/2 out of 10)
CHINA CRISIS — another semi-anonymous name from that melting pot of vague and forgettable promise makers that stir and rustle in the shadows, cause whispers, then merge back into the gloom. Liverpool’s thrown up more than its share of borderline hopefuls with an eye to the future but a foot so firmly cemented in known territory that they chance nothing, least of all their stable mediocrity.
China Crisis are a perfect example of an accomplished but deplorably safe band. When ‘African And White’ was released as a single, it was plugged with the subtlety of a flying brick by Kid Jensen but never broke into the mainstream, and the reason’s obvious. China Crisis make a goodish sound (that ‘ish’ is so important, relegating a record to the ranks of mediocrity in one sweet syllable) but if we made room in our hearts for the ‘goodish’, where would we fit the real gems?
This is pleasant, inoffensive electrobop, as invigorating as Depeche Mode on barbs, nice music that would be at home floating out of Shirley Williams’ radio or updating BBC muzak and oozing mildly from the girl with the noughts and crosses board; music that doesn’t raise goosebumps or eyebrows, cause thrills or chills or interfere with the dozy calm of a Sunday afternoon.
The life-support system of each track is a pale four-note tinkle washing through a tinny synth with all the force of an awestruck six-year-old discovering ‘My First Book Of Chords’ on an antique harpsichord. The vocals are equally pallid, whining faintly like dying mosquitos with such lacklustre world-weariness you can hear the groove curling up and dying.
Alright, I know it’s not as bad as all that, not ‘bad’ at all in fact. Just totally forgettable like 95% of other releases nowadays. If bands like this continue to venture so little, they can’t hope to be remembered . . . er . . . China who? (NME, 13/11/82)
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