A Midsummer Night's Dream
Whoever chose 'You're History' as the single to precede this album sure knew what they were doing. Ostensibly a song that's jilting a lover, it's almost impossible not to relate it to Siobhan Fahey's autobiography and consider its unmistakably independent air a two fingered salute to her past and those who would crucify her with it. 'You should see me when you're not around/I'm a genius in this town/I'm a queen bee when the coast is clear/Now I know I don't need you here...' is how it begins and the bard himself couldn't have better captured the wilful spirit which sines throughout 'Sacred Heart'.
I wonder, would it be taking too many liberties to suggest the snub-nosed 'Nananana so long' of the chorus is a deliberate dig at her old pals in Bananarama? Probably, but whatever...the song serves sultry notice in no uncertain terms that Shakespear's Sister will not be regarded as a bit of fluff and won't abide past misdemeanors tarnishing the very bright start they've made here. Of course, her relationship with Dave Stewart might suggest that Fahey has simply traded one Svengali (Stock, Aitken, Waterman) for another, but Stewart is physically absent from this enterprise and, despite the occasional Annieism ('Heroine' particularly bristles with that haughty Lennox military vocal), it's Stewart's eccentricity that seems to have rubbed off more than anything strictly stylistic. In fact, there's such a breadth (it's too early to suggest depth) of vision to 'Sacred Heart' that it could really be the work of several different bands and when we compare, as we must, each song to its inspirational genesis, we should never forget how much fun is being had playing around with them here. Prince is obviously a pretty big favorite with Fahey and her cohort, Marcella Detroit. His influence is everywhere in the way the album luxuriates in minor details, his potent equation between sex and religion is the basis of the title track and they've even stolen one of his titles in 'Dirty Mind' which, typically, sounds nothing like Prince at all. Elsewhere it's the stronger women in the industry, the ones who've got where they are on their own terms, without -- in Pete Burn's beautiful phrase -- 'hitching up their skirts' that serve as examples. 'Heaven Is In Your Arms' is reminiscent, vocally, of Chrissie Hynde while 'Red Rocket', a threatening seduction if ever there was one, sounds like Grace Jones guesting in an episode of 'Thunderbirds'. This is not to say that listening to 'Sacred Heart' is a simple exercise in spotting influences -- it's an astonishingly assured album for a debut, rich with future singles that, in their wanton divergence, suggest a pathological paranoia of being strait- jacketed into one style. Again, is it too much to imagine that this is Fahey's past informing her present? It's certainly hard to imagine more diverse tracks from the splendidly moderne soul pastiche of 'You're History' with its gloriously maverick weak- R'd squeal (You're Histowy) -- the Glitter Band/ Chicory Tip Glam stomp of 'Primitive Love' and the cheerfully faithful rendition of Bob Marley's 'Could You Be Loved' that rounds off the album. What one receives most when listening to 'Sacred Heart' is the feeling that there is an album being made by pop fans determined not to allow anybody else's notion of what they can or should do affect them. There's a winning wind- up in the way they've appropriated a Morrisey title and messed it up for their name, and a pride in the album's intriguingly weird lyrics and non- existent bimbo count which puts even Wendy and Lisa to shame. Don't let prejudice stop you hearing 'Sacred Heart'. To paraphrase the song, Shakespear's Sister are doing it for themselves. Reprinted w/o permission.
