At times, Prefab Sprout resembles its British peers: singer/songwriter Paddy McAloon can reach Glenn Tilbrook's breathy upper range or Elvis Costello's husky whisper, and his chordal guitar playing on the single "When Love Breaks Down" echoes the modjazz cool of the Style Council and Sade. But the bulk of Two Wheels Good is as far
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from pop – not to mention rock & roll – as an amplified quintet can wander. Both the credit and the blame for this erratic, ambitious album go to McAloon, whose literary obsessions dominate the band's personality.
McAloon's recurring view of romance as a psychological slam dance is nothing new, but his carefully woven lyrics pursue an uncommon language. On "Appetite," he inverts the misogynistic tradition of rock lyrics by suggesting that, because of men's callous sexual hunger, all relationships are doomed. This attitude seems to have given him ample time to mull over his despondency and pursue a music of literacy. Thus, the clichés on the album are in the tradition of the sad, solitary poet rather than the sad, solitary popsmith. Reflective, gray and somber, the album is unmistakably British. But though their motivation may be similar, the Sprouts' songs aren't precious in the way the Smiths' often are – McAloon's repertoire includes the droll one-liner ("Hear you got a new girlfriend/How's the wife takin' it?"), while "Goodbye Lucille No. 1" balances his persistent self-loathing by deromanticizing misery, as though McAloon knows he doesn't get out of his apartment often enough.
As Steely Dan and R.E.M. have demonstrated, opaque lyrics work best when anchored by music that draws you into its mysteries. There are a few compelling musical moments on side one, particularly the guitar, harmonica and synth tangle at the fade-out of "Faron." Two Wheels Good seems to be a vast improvement on their flat debut until the Sprouts wilt on side two. Although Thomas Dolby's crisp production puts Wendy Smith's airy soprano to effective use, bassist Martin McAloon and drummer Neil Conti step warily around Paddy's lyrics, rarely adding an estimable idea of their own. So while the rich, fresh writing tempts you back to Two Wheels Good, the music often makes listening a chore – like sifting through mud to uncover a few specks of gold. (RS 459)
ROB TANNENBAUM
