Joe Jackson "Night & Day" (A&M - 1982)

It's a Saturday night, you're going out, though you have no specific plans. The city awaits, anything and everything can happen. So, you need a cocktail and a little music to prepare for the evening. I would suggest Joe Jackson's, New York-inspired Night and Day, backed with a traditional martini made with Hendrick's gin. This is a completely foolproof plan. Even if you're one of those people who do not like gin, (and I've met more than a few of you wrongheaded nut-jobs), Hendrick's will change your mind. If you're one of those people who think that a martini is something colored pink and flavored like ice cream and has the consistency of a milkshake and perhaps comes with a miniature umbrella, then I cannot help you. I refuse to help you. You are living in a sad, alternate, idiotic universe, in which food and drink are named for the vessel they are served in, rather than for their own substance and form. For shame.

I believe I bought this record at a Cambridge Goodwill, probably for a dollar. I definitely bought it because it contains the song "Steppin' Out," which is a song I've been fairly obsessed with since first hearing it when I was a 7-year old kid, living a typical life in the suburbs, completely unaware of what a night out in The City encompassed, yet greatly intrigued. The album cover is clean and simple, the cartoon skyline of New York making the theme rather clear. The drawing of Joe Jackson at his piano projects a bit of a 20's feel, and is somewhat reminiscent of Al Hirschfeld. The inside gatefold contains all of the lyrics and liner notes, something which I always appreciate. There is also the time-honored "band in the studio with all of their instruments" photo. This is much preferable to: "band looking menacing and/or bored while standing in front of a wall," or "band looking wistful while standing on a rooftop," or "band looking stupid and/or pretentious, posing with the respective instruments they play." The latter is always tough on drummers, who must pose with drumsticks in hand, as if they are never without them, perhaps even sleeping with them clutched ever so tightly, dreaming of one day starting their own bands, finally being allowed to unleash their well-meaning, yet horrifyingly awful musical visions on an unsuspecting world. Just keep the beat, okay, Johnny?

Before I place the needle down, I take a sip of the martini. I'm no mixologist, but I make a perfectly palatable cocktail. As the drink is mostly just chilled Hendrick's gin in a glass with olives, it basically makes itself. I do use a half a shot of vermouth, shaken with the 2 shots of gin and some ice, and it most definitely adds a distinctive flavor. Distinctively bitter and unappealing, yet distinctive nonetheless. I should probably leave it out altogether, going forward. I could always switch it out in favor of olive juice. Hmmm.... Okay! Side one, entitled "Night Side." I see where they're going with this. "Another World" starts us off, drums and percussion first. There is a Latin theme with the rhythm section which will extend throughout the record. The vocals are minimal, the lyrics basically about being lost and bummed out but then meeting new people in a new place and everything starting to look up. There is an infectiously catchy instrumental melody which follows the chorus. It's a nice opener, a good representation of what's to come. It segues without break or pause into "Chinatown," an odd and quirky song, with silly off-the-cuff lyrics detailing experiences walking through the title-inspiring area of town. Eh, not really remarkable. Besides, Thin Lizzy already wrote the definitive song on that subject. We now segue into "T.V. Age," and it seems that all songs will flow from one into the next, sort of like how the events of an evening out on the town seem to blur into one another. This third track is an off-kilter, humorous send-up of the then newly popular cable television, and how it's keeping people indoors, glued to the tube. The reference to HBO is still relevant, thirty years later, only now it's their original programming that suck us (me) in, rather than the movies. The sarcastic nature, and music itself, seem to take a page from earlier Joe Jackson records, like Look Sharp! "Target" follows, with some crazy meringue or calypso beat and cliched lyrics about the dangers of the city. I know what's next, and so I can bear up and sit through this otherwise forgettable tune. It begins to fade and a disco beat arises, soon joined by an appropriately disco-styled bass line. Then the signature, complicated jazz chords burst forth from the piano and a nostalgic smile crosses my face. Incidentally, I have the sheet music for this and failed miserably at attempting to play it, (my lack of piano skills notwithstanding). Anyway, I absolutely love this song, and not just because it transports me back to that indescribable state of childhood wonder and fascination, but because it's a damn fine tune. It's at once catchy, fun, serious, inspirational, foreboding, eerie, and perfect. It's in a category all its own. It's got a great xylophone part. It has always conveyed to me the mysterious, narcotic aura that Manhattan exudes. I never seem to tire of it.

You're now stumbling home from the bar, the night was fantastic but you can't quite remember why, the sun is beginning to come up, a fact that is both alarming and hilarious, you want a greasy breakfast and perhaps a nightcap or two before finally yielding to the need for sleep. This is the "Day Side." The subject matter is of a more serious nature and the songs no longer flow from one into another. It's time to face up to responsibilities. "Breaking Us in Two," the other, more minor hit from the album, gets right into it and reminds me a bit of "Is She Really Going Out With Him?" It's about trying to end a miserable relationship but encountering resistance from the other. Such a fun topic! The cool outro part makes up for the questionable and dated synth section in the middle. "Cancer" sees a return to the Latin rhythms, and with lines like, "everything gives you cancer, there's no cure, there's no answer," you know you're in for a good time. Actually, I really like this song. It sucks you in with its odd timing and dour melodies. It's the highlight of the side. "Real Men," sounds like nothing else on the record, and isn't terribly interesting musically, but it's notable for giving a nod to the city's gay scene of the time and is lyrically ambitious. "A Slow Song" finishes up the album, and the title is neither sarcastic nor enigmatic. It's kind of a lullaby for two drunken and tired lovers, draped around each other and barely able to keep their eyes open, shuffling slowly and fighting off the inevitable sleep. I'm actually falling asleep before the song ends. Sleep. Wake up. Coffee. Night time. Cue up "Steppin' Out."