WOMAN OF REPUTE
DUSTY SPRINGFIELD: REPUTATION


At first you think, "It can't work."

You instinctively feel that Dusty Springfield's honey-dripping voice should be allowed to purr and sparkle in the kind of spartan setting provided for her by Tom Dowd and Co. on the classic 1969 album Dusty in Memphis. Or recalling the high-drama of soul-on-the-sleeve ballads like "Losing You", you cry out for the kind of Wagnerian orchestrations provided for her by Johhny Franz. But then slowly, maybe even reluctantly, you realise it is 1990. Not '69 or '64 and on Reputation Dusty Springfield and/or her producers are exploring new dynamics, pitting the first white female soul singer in Britain against the best in contemporary techno-pop. And unfortunately, the worst.

Let's get the worst out of the way first. Let's even name the culprit and hope this leads to him being sent back to kindergarten classes in rock-school. It's Dan Hartman, whose heart clearly was nearest the wallet in his back pocket when he produced the three instantly forgettable disco-ditties on side one of Reputation. And yet, even here, and in the more substantial if undeniably dance-floor rooted title track, Dusty still sings as if the techno-cak was exploding in a distant studio, while she remains lost inside a world enclosed by both her headphones and her own private loneliness.

Technically, the magnificent, melodic arc of her voice rides high above the staccato rhythms and, emotionally, even on a song as weak as "Send It To Me", the fade -out is just as moving as that old chorus on "Losing You". Thankfully, she is given even more room to tap that side of her talent on the ballad "Arrested By You", which effectively evokes not the desperation fired by the fear of losing love, but the ambivalence stirred on finding a lover.

Netting the ambivalance that also seems to be intrinsic to Dusty Springfield's nature, and setting it on tape, seems to have been an essential aim of the Pet Shop Boys, who produced the second and, by far, the most consistent and successful side of this album.

It's clear that Dusty in Memphis is Neil Tennant's favourite album but you have to listen deeply to hear how he's reworked its key elements, such as in "Daydreaming", which perfectly recreates the core sensuality shimmering in the Memphis album's "Breakfast in Bed". Yet Dusty's beautifully delivered rap, and the song's theme also bring "Daydreaming" smack up to date, with the singer warning her lover to wise up rather than merely offering all manner of meals between the sheets.

And when, in "Nothing Has Been Proved" she sings of how "Vicki's got her story about the mirror and the cane" she can transpose even this tacky, tabloid-like line into something as dark, subtle and suggestive as her reading of "Son Of A Preacher Man". That, in the end, is the true magic in Dusty Springfield's voice - it's other-worldly quality. Even in electro-pop surroundings such as these, she needn't worry. Her reputation is intact.

Joe Jackson
Hot Press, 1990


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