Tears for Fears have always been a bit of a quandary. While it was easy and convenient to package them up as a ‘synth band’ at their dawning – a (new) wave they had no problem surfing – they are actually something else entirely. And we’re not sure if even they know what.
Bands tend to come to synthtown by one of two routes. They’re either A) Utopian Brave New World-ers, mesmerised by the Kraftwerk stance and eager for similar escape. Or B) Grabbers of a flailing synthy lifeline as an escape route out of the uncool maelstrom mess of prog rock.
Human League and Heaven 17? Utopians. Barely able to play a note but crafting all-new magical noise precisely because of that. Howard Jones, Nik Kershaw, and Tears For Fears? Proggers to a man. Shamefully aware that their ‘widdly widdly clever music’ was increasingly dooming them to beardy non-recognition, but also aware that popping some bloops on the top and sacking the drummer might – might – just get them a hit… And then there were the haircuts. And that dancing.
But let’s not dwell in painful reminiscence on their debut and instead remember that Tears For Fears’ core of Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith went on to ace the ‘80s album, are perhaps in better shape now than ever.
