Atkin and James' first album of all-new material since 1974's Secret Drinker surprised many not only by its mere existence, but its content too. For his part,
Atkin had finally severed all remaining connections with folk music and fully embraced the mixture of slinky jazz, rock and Tin Pan Alley that had always played a significant part in his '70s work. Yet the greatest change had been wrought in the lyrics of Clive James. By his own admission, James felt he had pretty well used up the style that had excited so much debate among British rock critics before he abandoned lyric writing for essays, novels, poetry and broadcasting. Gone were the literary allusions and arcane references, to be replaced by a refreshingly spare and direct approach. There is also a tangibly autumnal feel about many of the songs, which for the most part address the subject of ageing (the title track, "Dancing Master," "Prayer Against the Hitman") or the end of an affair ("I Have to Learn," "Empty Table," "Thought of You"). Yet there is light relief in "So Loud I Couldn't Hear It" -- in which an effusive fan meets his idol of yore, only to realise he's stone deaf -- and "Fat Cat." But the most heart-stopping song on the album is "The Hill of Little Shoes," James' unsentimental lament for the children who lost their lives in the Nazi death camps. As with The Lakeside Sessions, there are moments when budgetary constraints make themselves felt -- a sax solo played on a Korg especially makes you hanker for the days when
Atkin could call on the cream of London's session musicians. Yet despite the extended lay-off, his melodic powers seem unimpaired, with "Prayer Against The Hitman," "An Empty Table" and the title track in particular lingering in the mind long after the album has finished. ~ Christopher Evans