The War Of The Worlds - Jeff Wayne
It?s about time we reviewed something musical. I first heard what I shall irritatingly refer to henceforth as JWMVOTWOTW sometime in the early eighties, around the time I saw my first pirate copy of E.T. I can?t say I was hooked from the first listen, but when someone eventually lent me a cassette copy I do recall listening to it enough times to warrant a punch in the face.
At the time I was aware that it was something of a guilty pleasure, like discovering that you actually enjoyed listening to some of your parents? records even though they just didn?t get the likes of Lush or Faster Pussycat (while a bit of reciprocation would be nice, I think the entire fabric of society might unravel if kids and parents really started listening to each other?s music, which still wouldn?t be as bad as kids and parents wearing each others? clothes).
Now I feel almost as if listening to, and more significantly enjoying, JWMVOTWOTW underscores the fact that I?m not actually a teenager anymore. It?s not that I suddenly think it?s an underground classic worthy of rehabilitation, or an accepted classic in the Beatles/Stones mould ? it?s still just as geeky and kitsch as ever. Rather it?s as if this is the music older people are supposed to listen to, along with the entire Sting back catalogue and selected classics by Frank and Ella.
Anyway, enough with the insecurities. I do enjoy JWMVOTWOTW, and shamelessly so, and the fact that it sometimes reminds me of that disco version of the Star Wars theme only makes me enjoy it more. I love crap music, and I love great music, and often the two are closer than you might think.
This new SACD version is fully remastered and remixed and, if like me you own a SACD compatible DVD or CD player, comes in glorious surround sound. Reissuing the album to tie in with Spielberg?s movie was a predictable marketing decision at best, but doing an entirely new version was a stroke of genius ? the album has never sounded better, and seems to be selling by the bucketload once again.
There?s little point doing a straightforward review of the album ? really, you either love it or hate it. Jeff Wayne, the man himself, made a fortune writing advertising jingles (such as ?Get the Abbey Habit?. With Abbey Natioooooo-naaal?) so it?s no surprise that there?s at least a dozen riffs from various tracks that will stick in your brain like mental fishbones. He also makes some wise decisions ? he doesn?t make Richard Burton sing, and he doesn?t try and get Justin Hayward to act. Both of those might have just been potentially too painful.
Apparently there?s a CGI movie planned. This could be great fun, actually getting pictures to go with the music, but it might also backfire. The album, while it doesn?t necessarily conjure up literal images in your head, does a very good job of bringing the right mood across ? the eeriness of the red weed, the flabby gelatinous mass of the martians, the desperate final battle of the Thunderchild ? and having actual images running with the music might actually diminish that. With pictures to distract you the music may well lose some of its impact.
What I am almost embarrassingly excited about is the prospect of a live performance. It could be disastrous, but, given that great live music has something that a recording can never convey, it could also be great. There is the small fact that Richard Burton and Phil Lynott are dead, and David Essex is probably a little too old now to play the idealistic young artillery man, so some recasting will be essential.
As long as they don?t get any Z-list tabloid celebs to do it, or someone embarrassing like Sting, then it should, as they say, rock.
