The Chameleons – Script of the Bridge

 

The Chameleons – Script of the Bridge

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

Artists are often a product of their environment. Be it painters, directors, or musicians, they work with what they know. Some musicians are capable of capturing this mood across a career. Take The Chameleons for example.

The Manchester quartet used their gothic rock to evoke the feelings of rainy northern England. Guitarists Reg Smithies and Dave Fielding used shimmering textures rather than traditional lead work. This left bassist/singer Mark Burgess and drummer John Lever to propel the songs forward.

Burgess in particular had a gift for melody. His delivery of the song lyrics was always pleasing to the ear. Yet he also gave off a desperate impression to his singing. It was almost like he was fighting for his life when he was at the microphone. And in a way, he was.

The 80s in Britain were a time of hardship. A failed conservative government lead to hard times, particularly among the working classes. A miners’ strike and disdain for Thatcherite policies meant moral was at an all-time low.

All of which informed the sound of Script of the Bridge. While Burgess never gets explicitly political, his tone and ambiguous lyrics evoke the desperate feeling of the times.

"Don't Fall" opens the album with a sample of a man, saying “In his autumn before the winter, comes man’s last mad surge of youth.” A woman responds, “what on earth are you talking about?” and the main guitar riff enters. Burgess’ voice enters repeating the title, and John Lever’s drums crash in.

Burgess’ lyrics are surreal, and the narrator seems to be in distress. When the chorus hits, the listener is confronted with the urgency of the narrator’s unfamiliar surroundings – even if we don’t know precisely what he’s afraid of. The brilliance of the track is that we don’t need to know.

The composition gives the listener plenty to grab onto, both rhythmically and melodically. Burgess’ voice is in top form and Smithies and Fielding have enough dreamy fretboard action to make The Psychedelic Furs blush.

An ominous bassline and analog synth introduce “Monkeyland,” gradually getting louder and louder. Burgess’ voice enters and describes another abstract scenario. He’s being experimented on by strange people. The bass, guitars, and drums gradually build until a crescendo in the chorus when Burgess seems to break free.

Burgess has established himself as a master of the surreal. Although the listener may not relate to the exact scenario, we know it is coming from a place of emotional depth – in both his wording and his delivery. His voice again alternates between soothing tones and those of a blunt instrument.

“Paper Tigers” and “View From A Hill” both showcase the dreamy guitarwork of Fielding and Smithies. “Paper Tigers” is an up-tempo post-punk tune with heavily delayed riffs. It’s a sound Ride would ape years later on “Jump Jet.” In fact, several shoegazing bands owe their start to the sounds being explored here.

“View From A Hill” is an entirely different animal. An almost funeral march of a tune, it manages to be both melancholy and uplifting. The guitars are atmospheric washes and resemble icy synthesizers. It is entirely evocative of an overcast day in a cemetery.

Burgess uses the upper register of his voice on the track, and it is an incredibly moving performance. He is the one reminder that the song is in fact made by humans and not by spirits. The urgency heard previously gives way to sweetness and warmth. A true masterpiece.

But perhaps “Second Skin” is the greatest track of them all. A quiet keyboard plays the main theme twice. And then, at seventeen seconds into the track, “Crash!” John Lever smacks the snare with a great force, and the guitars enter. Burgess spins a tale of a “cold damp evening” where “the world stood still.”

The track feels tailor-made for a suspenseful thriller movie. It’s another prime example of Burgess firing on all cylinders. His voice again balancing its melodic qualities with the urgency and desperation of a young man trying to make it in life. When Burgess sings “is this the stuff dreams are made of,” we believe it is.

Some albums are designed for specific moods or settings. In more extreme cases, bands devote an entire career to their surroundings. The Chameleons are one of those bands. On Script of the Bridge, The Chameleons evoke the sound of rainy Manchester streets, with the hope of sunny days.

Statik/1983