Review Summary: A perfectly respectable addition to a perfectly respectable discography, and a good example of how to evolve artistically without compromising identity
'We felt we had to stretch our wings a bit, and our audience at the time was not willing to accept that.'
That one, short, simple, yet immensely revealing sentence is how Jake Burns, talking to Alan Parker in the interview segment included in the special edition of
Now, Then..., accounts for the mixed reception of Stiff Little Fingers' divisive fourth album, and the hiatus it would eventually bring about less than a year after its release – the age-old musician and band dillemma of being excited about expanding to new horizons, only to crash and burn against the realization that most of the fanbase
'just wants to hear Inflammable Material, and nothing else'. Unfortunately for Burns and his acolytes, their audience was far less tolerant in this regard than that of like-minded terms of comparison The Clash and The Jam, sabotaging the band's attempt at transitioning to a more general rock sound and ultimately precipitating their downfall – at least for a few years, before they eventually reunited in the late 1980s. And yet, from (almost exactly) forty years in the future, it is hard to see what all the commotion was about;even one casual listen to either the regular or extended editions makes Wikipedia's tagging of this album under the 'post punk – new wave' tag seem nothing short of ludicrous, as if someone out there were trying to make it seem like Stiff Little Fingers had suddenly become The Stranglers, when they had barely made it halfway to becoming The Jam.
In fact, while there
are touches of new-wave strewn here and there across the duration of
Now, Then... (most notably the two ballads, one of which,
Big City Night, is a folksy, minimalistic semi-spoken-word dirge, with barely any input from any electrified instrument) experimentation is mostly confined to the occasional horn stab (on lead single
Talkback), a few understated (and, indeed,
'occasional') background keyboard flourishes or the usual Clash-meets-Men At Work ska-reggae groove (on the irrepressible
Stands To Reason, perhaps the clearest standout among the original eleven tracks; for all of Burns' baffling statements about taking influence from U2, of all bands, the better part of this album still sounds recognisably and unmistakably like a Stiff Little Fingers record, continuing to straddle the same sonic divide between outright punk-rock and what had become known as 'power-pop' as contemporaries like the Undertones or the Buzzcocks, overlaid with Burns' scathing tales, which now have an increasing focus on emotions and interpersonal relationships over political statements (AllMusic's Alex Ogg put it perhaps best when he stated that
'[Burns'] lyrics here changed in tone rather than theme'.). There is even the odd throwback to the band's first two albums, be it a vocal line (
'Touch and Go''s chorus melody evokes
Nobody's Heroes' Wait and See) or a musical cue (the rolling timpani in original closer
Is That What You Fought The War For position it as a spiritual successor of that album's own original closing track,
Tin Soldiers.) It is blatantly still the work of the exact same team of musicians and producers (minus drummer Jim Reilly, replaced by Fingers' third stick-man in four albums, and eventual long-hauler, Dolphin Taylor, who even gets to flex his vocal chops on the bouncy
Welcome to the Whole Week), and yet the fanbase reacted as though this were a completely alien entity, guilty of that most heinous of musical crimes, the 'sellout'; from four decades in the future, and within the broader spectrum of the Stiff Little Fingers discography, it all seems a little too much ado about nothing.
Overreactions aside (and any member of a fandom knows those are an inevitable side-effect of a creator attempting any sort of change to their material)
Now, Then... is far from immune to criticism, mostly tied to the fact that it is missing its predecessors' timeless, genre-defining bangers, making anyone but the most fervent Stiff Little Fingers fans unlikely to add any of its tracks to their overall playlist; however, this also contributes to make the Fingers' fourth outing (much like their third) an incredibly consistent listening experience, without the dizzying highs of
Inflammable Material or
Nobody's Heroes, but also none of their cavernous lows. While it may be hard to pick standout tracks, and the album as a whole may sound a little underwhelming on the first couple of listens,
Now, Then... eventually reveals itself as a grower, and its best tracks (the fiery
Won't Be Told, the blistering cover of
Love of The Common People - which, in Burns' own words, continues
'the grand tradition of Stiff Little Fingers taking a really good pop-reggae song and kicking the living daylights out of it -
Stands to Reason, Touch and Go, Welcome to the Whole Week) manage to ingratiate themselves with the listener just as much as some of their more famous counterparts, making the Belfastian's fourth release a perfectly respectable addition to a perfectly respectable discography, and a good example of how to evolve artistically without compromising identity.
Inflammable Material it may not be (and is not), but it is also a far cry from being the rancid dregs of late-period British punk fans make it out to be.
(The 2002 remaster of this album expands upon it by adding the aforementioned, absurdly interesting interview segment, alongside six new tracks – including live-show staple
Listen – all of which would have slotted nicely into the main album's lineup, and continue the pattern of Stiff Little Fingers evolving and experimenting –
Good For Nothing is based around a rather old-timey rock'n'roll riff – while still sounding like themselves. Overall, these bonuses enhance the album as a whole significantly more than those on previous albums, effectively making the remastered edition worth seeking out, even for casual fans of the band.)
Recommended Tracks
Won't Be Told
Stands To Reason
Touch and Go
Welcome to the Whole Week
Good for Nothing (2002 Remastered Edition)
Two Guitars Clash (2002 Remastered Edition)
