Thomas Dolby The Flat Earth Collector Edition

Thomas Dolby The Flat Earth Collector Edition

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Exceptionally mature for a sophomore effort, The Flat Earth has held up considerably well since its 1984 release. This staying power belongs to a fantastic ensemble of supporting players as much as to Thomas Dolby's songwriting and crisp production. "Dissidents" steps in cautiously and conjures images of blacklisted authors and ugly snow, gray from oppression. Here and elsewhere, Matthew Seligman's bass is a welcome addition -- throughout the album his work is lavish, growling, popping through octaves, funk-a-fied and twinkling with harmonics. The title track, "The Flat Earth," is a wondrous R&B daydream of piano and Motown stabs of rhythm guitar. "Screen Kiss" has a similarly ethereal quality, and the lyrics are lush with imagery, if occasionally cryptic. "White City"'s drug reference and chugging groove are as murky as they are energizing, so new wavers might find themselves frowning a bit on the dancefloor. Then there is "Mulu the Rain Forest," a globally minded curiosity of foreboding and disorienting samples that certainly feels a long way off from The Golden Age of Wireless. Dolby gets points for shrugging off any obligation to formula, but this voodoo spell has an adverse effect on the rest of the album. What follows is certainly a graceful recovery -- his rendition of 1967's "I Scare Myself" is a balmy jazz club cocktail -- faithfully nostalgic, right down to a bittersweet trombone solo from Peter Thomas. "Hyperactive" is, and always was, one part bizarre to two parts infectious. Guest vocalist Adele Bertei fuels the fire of what was already destined to be a memorable diversion, beyond the reach of Top 40. Thomas Dolby's work on The Flat Earth harks back to a time when songs mattered more than videos, even as MTV was discovering its strength. Last time the songwriter blinded us with science; this time it's musicianship. [The remastered version of Flat Earth comes with bonus remixed and live tracks, as well as Dolby's singles from the soundtracks of Howard the Duck and Gothic.]

Thomas Dolby The Golden Age Of Wireless [Collector's Edition]

Thomas Dolby The Golden Age Of Wireless [Collector's Edition]

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Talk to anyone who was the right age in the early '80s for both pop radio and the dawn of MTV, and "She Blinded Me with Science" will inevitably come up. The most famous song from the reissued version of the album, it's a defiantly quirky, strange number that mixes its pop hooks with unusual keyboard melodies pitched very low and a recurrent spoken word interjection ("Science!") from guest vocalist/video star Magnus Pike. To Thomas Dolby's credit, the rest of the album isn't simply that song over and over again, making The Golden Age of Wireless an intriguing and often very entertaining curio from the glory days of synth pop. Part of the album's overall appeal is the range of participating musicians, no doubt thanks in part to Dolby's own considerable range of musical work elsewhere. "She Blinded Me with Science" itself features Kevin Armstrong on guitar, Matthew Seligman on bass, mega-producer Robert "Mutt" Lange on backing vocals, and co-production with Tim Friese-Greene. Elsewhere, Andy Partridge contributes harmonica, Mute Records founding genius Daniel Miller adds keyboards, and Lene Lovich adds some vocals of her own. The overall result is still first and foremost Dolby's, with echoes of David Bowie's and Bryan Ferry's elegantly wasted late-'70s personas setting the stage. If anything, The Golden Age of Wireless is the friendlier, peppier flip side of fellow Bowie obsessive Gary Numan's work, where the melancholy is gentle instead of harrowing. Dolby's melodies are sprightly without being annoyingly perky, his singing warm, and his overall performance a pleasant gem. Especially fine numbers include the amusing romp "Europa and the Pirate Twins" and the nostalgia-touched, just mysterious enough "One of Our Submarines.