The Psychedelic Furs

Emerging from the incipient post-punk London scene with a healthy fascination for late-'70s Bowie (and in turn, for his own attraction to Krautrock), the then-sextet kicked up a slightly monochromatic but still attractive storm on their debut. Richard Butler's Thin-White-Duke-after-smoking vocal rasp has a surprising appeal, serving up a wry, slightly detached series of lyrics on life. The members of the core band, meanwhile, had clearly honed their chops well on-stage; Ashton's lead guitar work avoids both wankery and simplicity in favor of a balanced, artistic power. Production mainly comes from Steve Lillywhite, who smartly steers away from the soon-to-be-clichéd touches he would bring to U2's early work. "India" is a good example; it has a brooding, quiet beginning with strange telegraphic signals and turns into a brawling rocker without sounding like the Edge or Larry Mullins going off. The record comes off as serious without being self-consciously deep, occasional toe-dipping into humorous aside ("We Love You" has Butler idly listing off things he loves, sometimes with appropriate if sarcastically delivered song quotes: "I'm in love with Frank Sinatra...fly me to the moon..."). "Imitation of Christ" is the most frazzled, with lyrics detailing someone else metaphorically nailing himself up over a light but still strange guitar line. "Wedding Song" is amusingly prescient as one of the first "white rockers go hip-hop" numbers of its kind, along with Blondie's "Rapture," though its inspiration could equally be dub. Ely lays down a pounding funk beat while Butler breaks into a midsong rap no better or worse than most such efforts of the time.