Last updated March 16, 1998
From NME, September 24, 1988
Oh god. Art. Six meandering, aimless tracks. 16 musicians mixing the Mexican bass, dobro and Shozygs with trad rock'n'roll essentials such as the oboe and clarinet, PLUS a cathedral choir - Mike Oldfield, come on down ! 'Spirit Of Eden' can only be a wretched excretion from the bowls of conceptualism. ( 0 out of 5)
Easy, eh kids ? Far too bloody easy. From the sleeve's lyrical scrawls, to the record's tremulous drawls - a handwriting analyst's nirvana and Art Garfunkel on valium respectively - Mark Hollis sets himself up. Ripe for ridicule, waddling across the the journalists' firing range. Maybe he's got bullet-proof feathers, or perhaps I'm just too fond of ducks - either way, I just can't bring myself to pierce his plumage.
Talk Talk have extended the atmospherics of 'The Colour Of Spring', their last LP. They've multiplied its morosity, further exploited the sound of silence. Once a drinking man's Duran Duran, they're now experimenting with freaky orchestral manoeuvres. The hooklines of old curve up from tranquil shadows, flurried but no longer hurried.
'Inheritance' is impudently dischordant with brushed drums, wind collective and wayward piano. 'Eden' is liquid, almost vapid, until speared by a jagged guitar. It's nigh-on inhuman : not in any cold, callous sense, but in the unfamiliar pattern and uninhibited formation. When so desired, 'Spirit Of Eden' simply stands still, as expansive and elusive as a tropical dawn.
Talk Talk straddle the thin line between painful and pathetic, between attempted comprehension and sneering dismissiveness. Yet they're resolute and determined, flaunting commercial rules with fascinating disregard for understanding or acceptance.
'Spirit Of Eden' is the very antithesis of a Top 40-obsessive A&R man's best friend. And that's enough. So ( 7 out of 10 )
Simon Williams