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Marianne Faithfull: Broken English

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Island Records
Released: 1979.02.10
Time:
 37:44
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): Mark Miller Mundy
Rating: *********. (9/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.mariannefaithfull.org.uk
Appears with:
Purchase date: 2008.04.25
Price in €: 4,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Broken English (Faithfull/Maverty/Reynolds/Stannard/York) - 4:38
[2] Witches' Song (Faithfull/Mavety/Reynolds/Stannard/York) - 4:46
[4] Guilt (Reynolds) - 5:11
[5] The Ballad of Lucy Jordan (Silverstein) - 4:13
[6] What's the Hurry? (Mavety) - 3:06
[7] Working Class Hero (Lennon) - 4:43
[8] Why d'Ya Do It? (Faithfull/Mavety/Reynolds) - 6:48

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Marianne Faithfull - vocals

Barry Reynolds
Frankie Collins
Steve York
Jim Cuomo
Terry Stannard

Also:
Steve Winwood
Darryl Way
Maurice Pert

Mark Miller Mundy - Producer
Bob Potter - Engineer
Ed Thacker - Mixing
 

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s

1979 LP Island 422-842355-1
1990 CD Island 422-842355-2
1990 CS Island 422-842355-4

Recorded in 1979.

Widely considered Marianne Faithfull's best album, BROKEN ENGLISH has a hazy, bleary-eyed expressiveness that matches atmosphere with emotional impact. Throughout the 1960s and '70s Faithfull was generally considered a shooting star in the pop firmament, a passing flavor not to be taken seriously by serious music listeners. But 1979's BROKEN ENGLISH changed that with its stylistic curveballs and dark, disconcerting vibe. The album is steeped in the synthesizer sounds typical of the era; but where this tends to date most releases from the time, it works beautifully here. The pulsing surge of the synths balances nicely with Faithfull's sluggish, tattered-sounding voice (the title track is a perfect example). Other album highlights include the bluesy, off-kilter "Brain Drain," and her slicing cover of John Lennon's "Working Class Hero." While compilations will provide a comprehensive look at her work, BROKEN ENGLISH is the Faithfull studio album to get.



Marianne Faithfull had been effectively written off as a one-hit wonder when she reappeared in 1979 to shock everyone with this dark masterpiece. Gone was the bland choirgirl voice of "As Tears Go By," replaced by an instrument that, although ravaged by drink, drugs, and hard living, had gained in expressiveness. The music, which sounded like a synthesizer phalanx hijacked by depressed punks, was perfectly suited to these songs of disillusionment ("Ballad of Lucy Jordan") and loss (the title track). Most powerful was a "Working Class Hero" that matched John Lennon's original sneer for sneer, and an X-rated response to infidelity ("Why D'Ya Do It") that could've been torn from Bill Clinton-inspired headlines.

Ben Edmonds - Amazon.com



Nachdem man Marianne Faithful praktisch schon als Eintagsfliege abgeschrieben hatte, waren alle geschockt, als sie 1979 mit diesem düsteren Meisterwerk wieder auf der Bildfläche erschien. Verschwunden war die glatte Schulmädchen-Stimme von "As Tears Go By", an ihre Stelle war ein Organ getreten, das -- gezeichnet von Alkohol, Drogen, und dem Leben an sich -- an Ausdruckskraft zugenommen hatte. Die Musik, die klang, als ob sich eine Gruppe depressiver Punks eine ganze Ladung Synthesizer geschnappt hätte, paßte ausgezeichnet zu diesen Liedern voll enttäuschter Illusionen ("Ballad of Lucy Jordan") und Verlust ("Broken English"). Äußerst stark auch ihr "Working Class Hero", das dem Original von John Lennon in seinem Spott in nichts nachstand, und eine nicht ganz jugendfreie Auseinandersetzung mit einem Seitensprung ("Why D'Ya Do It"), die so auch in einem Zeitungsartikel über die Clinton-Affäre hätte stehen können.

Ben Edmonds - Amazon.de



After a lengthy absence, Faithfull resurfaced on this 1979 album, which took the edgy and brittle sound of punk rock and gave it a shot of studio-smooth dance rock. Faithfull's whiskey-worn vocals perfectly match the bitter and biting "Why'd Ya Do It" and revitalize John Lennon's "Working Class Hero."

John Floyd - All Music Guide



Ranked # 30 in Rolling Stone's "Women in Rock: The 50 Essential Albums"

Rolling Stone (10/31/02, p.136)



Included in AP's "10 Essential Women's Rock Albums" - "...Her best album to date, backed by electro/new-wave sounds...

Alternative Press (7/01, p.96)



Marianne Faithfull had her first hit, a big one, in 1964, with "As Tears Go By" (written by her lover, Mick Jagger, with Keith Richards), but it was never as a singer that she was central to the iconography of Swinging London: it was as a Face. She had, you may recall, a sweet, well-bred, quavering voice. She also had eyes so innocent that no man could resist their suggestion of unearthly possibilities of lust.

From there, the story is well known: another record or two, a promising acting career, a miscarriage, an attempt to hang onto a romance that had outlived its proper pop moment, suicide attempts, heroin. Not long ago, she pulled in a bit of tawdry notoriety with dirty tales of the old days. The end.

In the late Seventies, Marianne Faithfull was little more than just another irony–an irony perpetrated not so much by bad luck and hard living as by the image of that face, now over a decade gone and, in the minds of those who had seen it, no less indelible than it ever was. But that face was always a paradox, the face of the virgin who knows every means to seduction. Faithfull lived it out, that's all. One waited, perhaps, for her to turn up in the news again, dead. One could hardly have expected Broken English, a stunning account of the life that goes on after the end, an awful, liberating, harridan's laugh at the life that came before.

The lyrics of Broken English are not autobiographical, but the album's power begins with Marianne Faithfull's old persona and with one's knowledge of the collapse of the woman behind it. Faithfull sings as if she means to get every needle, every junkie panic, every empty pill bottle and every filthy room into her voice–as if she spent the last ten years of oblivion trying to kill the face that first brought her to our attention. The voice is a croak, a scratch, all breaks and yelps and constrictions. Though her voice seems perverse, it soon becomes clear that it is also the voice of a woman who is comfortable with what she sounds like.

You start by thinking she won't even make it through the opening track, but before the first side is over, she has you hooked. She knows how to use this voice, twist it, make it cut. Her voice seems incapable of expressing pleasure, peace of mind, surprise: it's all knowledge and bad dreams. The musicians, a little too faceless, back up the feeling; they're hard-nosed, expert, doomy. You hear a lot of very modern British R&B, wracked synthesizer music and reggae inflections rather than reggae shtick. When Faithfull sings with a tiredness so intense you can barely make out the bitterness behind it, the band focuses that bitterness, and when she wants to slap someone's face, the band makes sure it gets slapped. Faithfull depicts moral and physical debris; the band provides a bizarre frame of elegance, perhaps recalling the money behind the waste of the pop life. Thus the paradox of Marianne Faithfull's old persona remains intact, but now it snaps shut.

Faithfull cowrote three of the songs, including the title tune (her reflections on the Baader-Meinhof terrorists, and no more illuminating than most rock & roll comments on politics). There are also John Lennon's "Working Class Hero," Shel Silverstein's "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan" (nice housewife commits suicide over broken dreams), Barry Reynolds' "Guilt" ("I feel good/I feel good/Though I ain't done nothin' wrong I feel good"), Joe Mavety's "What's the Hurry" and Ben Brierley's interesting "Brain Drain." I mention the compositions because, with one exception, they are incidental. Some work, some don't, but with each one, Faithfull's singing has a conviction that is truly frightening. She could be singing in German, and her disgust and rage – and its complexity – would come through whole.

The one song that matters as a song is "Why D'Ya Do It," a raw, utterly shameless confession of sexual jealousy with no hope of revenge. Faithfull acts it out. There's a depth of obscenity here to make those male rockers who think they've gotten away with something when they throw a sexless "fuck" into a bragging tune blush: Faithfull sings – rants – about her lover's infidelity as if it were a form of defecation. The low, growling music is obvious and right; Faithfull pushes on, past anger, to the point where ugliness is its own justification.

I may have made Broken English sound like some sort of accident: a surprisingly listenable case study of a hapless neurotic. That's not what it is at all. It is a perfectly intentional, controlled, unique statement about fury, defeat and rancor: the other side of Christine McVie's lovely out-of-reach romances. It isn't anything we've heard before, from anyone. As far as Faithfull goes, there's a guttiness here, a sense of craft and a disruptive intelligence that nothing in her old records remotely suggested. Broken English is a kind of triumph: fifteen years after making her first single, Marianne Faithfull has made her first real album. (RS 309)

GREIL MARCUS - Jun 17, 1997
Rolling Stone
 

 L y r i c s


Broken English

Could have come through anytime,
Cold lonely, puritan
What are you fighting for ?
It's not my security.

It's just an old war,
Not even a cold war,
Don't say it in Russian,
Don't say it in German.
Say it in broken English,
Say it in broken English.

Lose your father, your husband,
Your mother, your children.
What are you dying for ?
It's not my reality.

It's just an old war,
Not even a cold war,
Don't say it in Russian,
Don't say it in German.
Say it in broken English,
Say it in broken English.


US CD MFSL Ultradisc UDCD 640
r. 08 08 1995
What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting for ?

What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting for ?

Could have come through anytime,
Cold lonely, puritan.
What are you fighting for ?
It's not my security.

It's just an old war,
Not even a cold war,
Don't say it in Russian,
Don't say it in German.
Say it in broken English,
Say it in broken English.

Say it in broken English,
Say it in broken English.

What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting for ?
What are you fighting ...


Witches' Song

Shall I see tonight sister, bathed in magic greet
Shall we meet on the hilltop where the two roads meet.
We will form the circle, hold our hands and chant,
Let the great one know what it is we want.

Danger is great joy, dark is bright as fire,
Happy is our family, lonely is the ward.

Sister, we are waiting on the rock and chain
Fly fast through the airwaves, meet with pride and truth.

Danger is great joy, dark is bright as fire,
Happy is our family, lonely is the ward.

Father, we are waiting for you to appear.
Do you feel the panic, can you see the fear ?
Mother, we are waiting for you to give consent.
If there's to be a marriage, beneath contempt.

Danger is great joy, dark is bright as fire,
Happy is our family, lonely is the ward.

La da da da da da, la la la la la .
La da da da da da, la la la la la .
La da da da da da, la la la la la
La da da da da da, la la la la la ...

Remember death is far away and life is sweet.


Brain Drain

Well, I know that you're tired of living this way,
We've been trying to get high without having to pay.

The walls are all empty, it's not a permanent state,
Just let me tell you that it's not too late.

You're a brain drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.
You're a drain brain, you go on and on like a blood stain.

Well, you know I ain't selfish, there's always a way.
If a thing ain't worth having, you're having to pay.

You're a brain drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.
You're a train brain, you go on and on like a blood stain.

Got so much to offer, but I can't pay the rent,
I can't buy you roses 'cause the money's all spent.

Well, you sat in my car, you drank my champagne,
You stole all my silk but you gave me no change.

You're a brain drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.
You're a train drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.

Got so much to offer, but I can't pay the rent,
I can't buy you roses 'cause the money's all spent.

Well, you sat in my car, you drank my champagne,
You stole all my silk, you left me no change.

You're a brain drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.
You're a train drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.

You're a brain drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.
You're a brain drain, you go on and on like a blood stain.


Guilt

I feel guilt, I feel guilt,
Though I know I've done no wrong I feel guilt.
I feel guilt, I feel guilt,
Though I know I've done no wrong I feel guilt.

I feel bad, so bad,
Though I ain't done nothing wrong I feel bad.
I feel bad, so bad,
Though I ain't done nothing wrong I feel bad.

I never lied to my lover,
But if I did I would admit it.
If I could get away with murder
I'd take my gun and I'd commit it.
I never gave to the rich, I never stole from the poor,
I'm like a curious child, give me more,
More, more, more, more, more, more.

I feel blood, I feel blood,
Though I feel it in my veins, it's not enough.
I feel blood, I feel blood,
Though it's streaming through my veins it's not enough.

I never stole a scarf from Harrods,
But if I did you wouldn't miss it.
I never stole a doll from Lovecraft,
But if I did you know I'd kiss it.
I never stole from the rich, I never gave to the poor,
I'm like a curious child, just give me more,
More, more, more, more, more, more, more, more.

I feel guilt, I feel guilt,
Though I know I've done no wrong I feel guilt.
I feel guilt, I feel guilt,
Though I ain't done nothing wrong I feel guilt.

Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt
Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt ...


The Ballad of Lucy Jordan

The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.

At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair ...


What's the Hurry

What's the worry, what's the hurry,
Do you hear me, do you fear me ?
You've got the message, you read the story,
You want the power, you need the glory.

Clocks break, time goes by,
Hot sake along the fly,
She laughs on a spin,
He laughs, turns you in.

What's the panic, where's the static,
Do you see me, could you meet me ?
I heard the rumour, you've got my number,
But now I see you run for cover.

So you thought you had it made,
Ain't it easy to be afraid,
Feel the pressure, take the bait,
Here it comes again.

Clock breaks, time goes by,
Hot sake along the fly,
She laughs on a spin,
He laughs, turns you in.


Working Class Hero

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career,
But you really can't function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

There's room at the top they are telling us still,
But first we must learn how to smile as we kill
If we want to live like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.


Why'd Ya Do It

When I stole a twig from our little nest
And gave it to a bird with nothing in her beak,
I had my balls and my brains put into a vice
And twisted around for a whole fucking week.
Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you let that trash
Get a hold of your cock, get stoned on my hash ?

Why'd ya do it she said, why'd you let her suck your cock ?
Oh, do me a favour, don't put me in the dark.
Why'd ya do it, she said, they're mine all your jewels,
You just tied me to the mast of the ship of fools.

Why'd ya do it, she said, when you know it makes me sore,
'Cause she had cobwebs up her fanny and I believe in giving to the poor.
Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you spit on my snatch ?
Are we out of love now, is this just a bad patch ?

Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you do what you did ?
You drove my ego to a really bad skid.

Why'd you do it, she said, ain't nothing to laugh,
You just tore all our kisses right in half!

Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd ya do what you did,
Betray my little oyster for such a low bitch.

Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you do what you did ?
You drove my ego to a really bad skid.

Why'd ya do it, she screamed, after all we've said
Every time I see your dick I see her cunt in my bed.

The whole room was swirling,
Her lips were still curling.

Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you do what you did
Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you do what you did
Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd ya do it, she said,
Why'd you do what you did ?

Oh, big grey mother, I love you forever
With your barbed wire pussy and your good and bad weather.
Why'd ya do it, she said, why'd you do what you did ...

Ah, I feel better now.
 

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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