LP reviewed in Sounds, 18th September, 1982
THE STRANGLERS ‘The Collection 1977-1982’ (Liberty LBG 30353) ** 1/2 | ACCORDING TO the people’s star of the last World Cup, Jimmy Greaves, there are two prime ingredients necessary for success on the football field. Firstly ‘persistency’ (sic) and secondly ‘a heart like an ox’.
Similar adjectives could be applied to the Stranglers who, over the last five years, have established themselves as the kind of doggedly determined team who can be relied upon for professional and workmanlike performances week in and week out yet can never set a crowd alight with breathtaking displays of talent.
They regularly qualify for Europe but never win the championship. Their debut recording ‘(Get A) Grip (On Yourself)‘, which opens ‘The Collection’, has always been my favourite Stranglers single with its marvellous bleeping, swirling, sound-filling, dancing-finger keyboard, buzzsaw guitar growl slapped into the middle and the long, predict-the-last-note ending.
The soon following ‘Rattus Norvegicus’ LP seemed like the logical late Seventies sequel to the Doors’ LA Woman’ rather than a representative offering from the rising punk tide on which the band conveniently rode to notoriety.
The succeeding 45s regressed into a bestial state, providing a Neanderthal, rock-with-the-cavemen music, always with that predictable rhythm which flowed with the smoothness of cold lumpy porridge and either a throwaway melody or else just a gutteral chant tagged on top.
The Stranglers | The Collection | (Liberty) 1982
‘Duchess’, with a mellower approach, was an early indication of the current Strangers sound. Their recent chart resurgence coming courtesy of some pleasant but fluffy soft-core psychedelia, often ‘good tunes’ but lacking the finishing sparkle to become timeless gems.
This 14 cut compilation is EMI’s milk-the-past gesture after losing the boys to CBS. It provides a little nostalgia but not much essential listening action and it’s hard to imagine a Stranglers devotee who won’t already possess most of the material here.
EMI further nullify the appeal by dressing the item in an info free sleeve although they don’t miss the opportunity to advertise the group’s other eight albums for the label.
Personally, I await more fruitful plundering of the Manchester Square vaults and such future classics as ‘The Stranglers Sing Rude Songs In The Shower’ and ‘Hugh And Jean’s Guide To Nude Wrestling’. (Mick Sinclair)
THE STRANGLERS: ‘The Collection 1977-1982’ (Liberty LBG 30353) | AS A rule such albums are for the converted, useful historical snap shots that provide a guide to a band’s progression / regression. Never having been the first in line to pat these elderly gentlemen on the back, a perusal of ‘The Collection’ gave me cause to re-examine my prejudice about The Stranglers.
In 1977 a familiar line ran: ‘Well I don’t like punk, but I like The Stranglers’. Has ever praise been so damning? When punk was at its hottest it befell the sluggish Strangs (r’n’b losers to a man) to be the media’s token Punk Rockers.
And yet the Stranglers could make pop, despite its plagiarism. ‘Grip’ (honest guys, The Doors? Never heard of them) and the sublimely bassy ‘Nice ‘n’ Sleazy’ were very fine records. Add to these two, the light whimsy of the recent ‘Golden Brown’ and ‘Strange Little Girl’ and you have the few pearls that stand out from the cut glass.
The rest? Stodgy, lumpy, dodgy old Stranglers. In other words, throw in a bunch of traditional muses, some hallucinogenic vibes, real ale, black magic, black leather and . . . voila! A marginal group. There are no secrets here. ** 1/2 (Record Mirror, 18/09/82)
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