Guilty - Barbra Streisand > Reviews > Pleasures

Author's product rating:   

Originality	Definitely a cut above the rest
Lyrics	Thought-provoking
Quality and consistency of tracks	Flawless
How does it compare to the artist's other releases	Outstanding
Value for Money

Advantages:	The voice, the songs, the ecstasy
Disadvantages:	The lack of respect

Recommend to potential buyers:

yes

Full review

If I had to put it in words, I’d say I’m a singer-songwriter kind of guy with an emphasis on the songwriting. I’m more interested in the lyrics, melody and the craft of a three and a half minute pop song than the voice that performs it. Having said that, there are limits to my patience. I appreciate Dylan is one of the greatest songwriters the world has ever known, but, for the most part, I would rather hear his songs performed by others. Tom Waits is a fascinating modern-day troubadour, but with one notable exception (Innocent When You Dream) his voice reminds me of nails on a blackboard.

At the other end of the spectrum there are voices so perfect that they could sing your granny’s funeral notice and you’d be captivated. Sarah McLachlan must surely be an angel cloaked in human flesh because her voice is heavenly. The late Karen Carpenter was blessed and then cursed with a purity of sound that has never been matched. And then we come to La Streisand.

Let’s backtrack a little here. I only have a couple of MP3s of Sarah McLachlan tracks and I have never owned anything at all by The Carpenters. I think their voices are divine, but the material has never matched up. I love Barbra Streisand as an actress having been introduced to What’s Up Doc by my father at a young age, but I was never taken with her as a performer. Same story as before – perfect voice, perfectly ordinary songs.

But Guilty is different. Guilty is serendipitous. Guilty is the most exquisite cocktail. Guilty is when you mix two things that you know aren’t good for you and the sum is greater than all the other parts in the world. Guilty is where Streisand sings Gibb. In my last review comments were left that revealed an unhealthy animosity towards Ms Streisand. I can only imagine what level of apoplexy a review containing Streisand, Disco and the three most reviled popstars of the past 25 years will produce.

The Brothers Gibb (am I the only one to think the name “Bees Gee” would have been more grammatical if slightly less commercial?) enjoyed a critical rise and spectacular fall faster than almost any artist in history. Saturday Night Fever was the best selling record of all time and remains the bestselling soundtrack in history. Two years later they were a laughing stock, ridiculed in playground falsettos and made fun of by arch-satirist Kenny Everett.

I don’t know whose idea it was to pair Barbra up with Barry and the boys but it was inspired. Barry Gibb wrote and produced almost the entire album some of it with Robin and the late Maurice as well. While Barry is only credited as co-performer on two of the tracks the backing vocals are undeniably Gibb-ish throughout. Barbra was coming off the biggest hit of her career No More Tears (Enough is Enough) with Disco Diva™ Donna Summer and the Bee Gees had sold Disco to the masses but together they made a record with more soul and lasting pop nous than any of their fading Disco contemporaries.

The album kicks off with the title track. Barbra and Barry sing a gorgeous duet declaring their love for each other. Two adults in their mid to late 30s coming together amid all the pressures that life has placed upon them and treasuring their passion.

“It oughta be illegal -
Make it a crime to be lonely or sad…
We’ve got nothing to be guilty of.”

I know there are still some naysayers out there turning their musical noses up at the thought, but I am here to tell you there is nothing sexier than a man singing falsetto except that same man harmonizing with an angel.

Guilty fades out and before you have a chance to catch your breath you are flung into one of the more memorable synthesizer intros of the 80s. Woman in Love has nothing to do with D. H. Lawrence and everything to do with bombast and tenderness and simultaneous feminine power and yearning.

“I am a woman in love
And I'd do anything
To get you into my world
And hold you within
It's a right I defend
Over and over again”

The closest comparison I can think of thematically would be Meat Loaf’s Bat out of Hell album. These are not young, over-earnest teen idols laying down some vocals between photo-shoots. Like Meat before her, Barbra is a grown up battling her demons and laying herself on the line for love. Woman in Love is a magnificent anthem and was a deserved if incongruous UK No. 1 in the Autumn of 1980 sandwiched between The Jam, The Police and Blondie.

Run Wild was the B-side to Woman in Love, but it takes its place on the album and easily stands up. The lyric is more abstract than previous, but he sly, knowing vocal performance carry the day.

Promises comes up next and it’s the dance highlight of the album. The Bee Gees did not sit down one day and try to invent Disco. They had been writing and performing for a decade before the Fever hit. Promises is a soulful dance groove that I believe exists as a 12 inch, mid-80s, kickass remix somewhere. It makes me think of Studio 54 and Joan Collins and Oliver Tobias on a love swing.

“You all over me, all over
You're the light
I am the love don't let me die away
I am forever. We are born to make
Promises to be there.”

The Love Inside is a showstopper too delicate for any stage. The Gibbs were writing here for a specific voice and this is the part where they tip a hat to Barbra the broad from Broadway. But, despite a complex lyric worthy of Sondheim, the production constricts and confines forcing Streisand to the top of her vocal register and achieving a more naturalistic whisper that matches the lyrical content.

Track 6 is another duet with Barry Gibb. What Kind of Fool is in the best tradition of story songs. Barbra and Barry play a couple at the end of relationship destroyed by infidelity and leaving the two wondering how they ever got to this point.

“There was a time when we were down and out
There was a place when we were starting over
We let the bough break
We let the heartache in
Who’s sorry now…?
What kind of fool tears it apart?”

The next song is Life Story. If The Love Inside saw Streisand at the top of the scale, Life story has her crawling along the bottom. The lyric bitterly references a lover’s past conquests with Barbra wondering how she can ever find a place in his affections knowing what she knows now. Singing so much deeper than she does on the rest of the album, Streisand inhabits this insecure desperate

“Deeper than your valleys
Longer than your memory
I go to your story’s end
Your life story began with somebody else.”

The penultimate track is Never Give Up. Barbra is again singing her determination not just to land her man but to survive in the confused world of adult romance. It’s a minor song on a fantastic album sounding like part of the lost soundtrack to Sex and the City.

The album closes in a blaze of symphonic excess. Make It Like A Memory is an almost eight minute classic in the vein of MacArthur Park. Building gently to a full orchestral climax while remaining anchored in reality by Streisand’s crystal delivery it is a magnificent finish to a remarkable opus.

That’s your lot. Nine glorious songs that demand your attention but which will probably never get your respect. I’ll take one more shot at convincing you and then I’m out of here. I love Morrissey and Badly Drawn Boy. I saw Oasis play live the week Wonderwall was released and I watched the Stone Roses disintegrate at an all-nighter at the Brixton Academy. I have never bought anything even slightly relating to manufactured pop. I have credible musical taste and I say to you Guilty is a classic. Finally, for those of you interested in this sort of thing, there are a reported 15 million other purchasers of this album who agree with me.

Available today from Amazon.co.uk for £7.99. Put aside foolish and misguided snobbery and give it a listen.
 

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The Beard and the Broad