Review Summary: This is England
The concept of the party was going through an identity crisis in 1980s Britain, caught somewhere between the 'groovy baby' 70s and 'party on Garth!' slacker 90s, this decade was left in yuppie wanker limbo. All the 80s could boast in terms of a truly life changing party innovation was the prawn cocktail. This lack of inspiration inevitably spread to music where the increasing desire for convenience proved a fertile breeding ground for novelty acts. The most virulent of these party pests were Black Lace, two blonde mullets sniffing the mother of all pay days and an escape route from the Butlins gigging circuit.
Imagine providing Alan Partridge and David Brent with instruments, some backing tapes, a few session musicians and access to a studio and the smart money is on you ending up with something like this. Actually, scrap that, we now know what sort of song writer David Brent is and that association does his fictional ass a disservice. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure Partridge would be deluded or cynical enough to produce an album this lacking in merit. That this band received the amount of airplay and record sales they did through the mid 80s is truly terrifying, as without question this is some of the most inane and underwritten dreck ever committed to tape.
The cover art shows that Black Lace's sights were on targeting as wide a demographic of tone deaf Europeans as possible; yes, there's granddad steaming up his spectacles in the middle of the conga, next to your incredibly gawky teenage niece. Further clues are provided by the album's official sub title '16 Great Party Icebreakers'. That's right, this is the party music equivalent of an elastoplast; you've already derped, no one is dancing, so slap this bad boy on and sit back to watch your handiwork. Your guests could collectively possess all the rhythm of Herman Munster on ketamine and yet they'll all still be able to 'move' to this.
Drilling down into the horrors contained within is a harrowing experience. The jewel in the fetid crown is of course 'Agadoo', a song that graced near every children's birthday party I attended up until the age of about ten for no apparent reason. If you're under the illusion that steel drums are in some way inherently 'chill' or 'cool' then prepare to encounter them here in their weaponised form. Put simply, 'Agadoo' is a song so cheesy that it makes 'Club Tropicana' sound like 'The Great Gig in the Sky' by comparison. 'Hands Up' is probably the least obnoxious song here and even then I'd rather listen to 'Gangnam Style' on repeat for two hours than sit through it just the once. 'Ob-La-Di-Ob-La-Da' commits further crimes against the steel drum (why the steel drum?) before 'The Birdie Song' enters your nightmares like one of Putin's nuclear subs...and so it continues. 'Do the Conga', the universe crushingly shIt 'Superman', the Irish bar band travesty 'Fiddling' - each without fail branded with the indelible mark of the beast. Forget black metal, this here is the trve sound of evil.
Needless to say 'Party Party' was a mega hit back in 1984, selling 650,000 copies in its first week of release and spawning two top ten charting hits in the UK. In conclusion: doesn't even riff, 0.5, the worst.
