Why ‘Spirit of Eden’ by Talk Talk wouldn’t happen in the modern day
Almost five years have passed since Talk Talk fans were met with the tragic news that the band’s frontman and creative leader, Mark Hollis, had died at 64. Opting for a quieter, family-orientated life, Hollis remained inactive in the music industry following his eponymous solo album of 1998. Prior to this release, Talk Talk had refined their stylistic approach through a series of increasingly adventurous yet less financially rewarding albums.
In the early 1980s, Talk Talk broke out in the synth-wave with several acclaimed pop albums and a generous scattering of internationally charting singles, such as ‘Today’, ‘It’s My Life’ and ‘Such a Shame’. Most seasoned fans will agree that, following 1984’s It’s My Life, Talk Talk’s creative appeal blossomed inverse to their global chart impact.
The Colour of Spring was the first step towards the more refined and meticulous production that defined the subsequent albums, Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock. The album was far from esoteric but showcased a Talk Talk more confident in their identity. Still bristling with propulsive singles, the album was a commercial success, reaching number eight on the UK Albums Chart and remaining there for a total of 21 weeks. Crucially, ‘Life’s What You Make It’ was an international hit, consolidating a swelling fanbase across the Atlantic.
Following such success, EMI granted Talk Talk an uncapped budget to explore their deepest musical whim, no matter how long it might take. Of course, such treatment appears remarkable from the modern perspective, but these were times of comparative solvency in the music industry. It would appear labels were apt to invest in art for art’s sake rather than art for money’s sake.
The result of such admirable philanthropy was one of the decade’s finest albums, Spirit of Eden. The album boasted just one single, the enveloping and enchanting ‘I Believe in You’, but even this wasn’t intended. After a protracted, financially haemorrhaging recording and production process, EMI felt it prudent to support the release with at least one single.
Hollis ultimately regretted releasing ‘I Believe in You’ as a single, however. He told Q that it existed “purely to help the record company promote the album.” In a separate conversation with International Musician and Recording World, Hollis elaborated, “They’ve basically just cut the beginning and end off the song. I think it’s a shame. They’ve taken something which stood up on its own in the context of the album and pulled it out of context. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
The unpalatable reality is that modern artists would scoff at Hollis’ ungratefulness: “Who cares about your single? At least you were granted resources to make such an album in the first place.”
Cheeks would redden further with the knowledge that Talk Talk had unlimited studio time and total control over the recording process. The album came together after one year of recording and mixing at Wessex Studios in London. “It was very, very psychedelic. We had candles and oil wheels, strobes going, sometimes just total darkness in the studio,” engineer Phil Brown recalled, speaking to Tape Op in 1999. “You’d get totally disorientated, no daylight, no time frame.”
The colourful wonder, creative abandon and lack of urgency experienced while listening to Spirit of Eden reflect the patient, meticulous nature of its parental sessions. The album is difficult to categorise, given its progressive multifarious nature, but welcomes jazz instrumentation and the loose, improvisational sensibilities of Miles Davis and John Coltrane, two of Hollis’ expressed influences.
Indeed, today, many artists rely on a miracle to cobble an album together and get it to the pressing factory. The hurdles are innumerable but mainly lie at the feet of a rotting money tree. Studio time and resources are extortionate, and with a more financially orientated, competitive and cutthroat industry, labels are inclined to streamline the process at every turn, more often than not, at the artist’s and art’s expense.
Following its arrival in 1988, Spirit of Eden had its detractors, who ostensibly fancied a more danceable sound, but otherwise, it was near-universally favoured by critics. Many of these critics also noted the album’s sincere lack of marketability. Despite this, the album just about turned a profit, albeit amoebas compared to that of The Colour of Spring.
Talk Talk’s arrangement with EMI wasn’t rare for artists of their stature at the time, but it should be noted that the label wasn’t disinterested in capital gain. Talk Talk allegedly sent the label a cassette of the finished album in March 1988 and received a message in return requesting that the band take even more time in the studio to rerecord some more commercial material.
Hollis duly rejected EMI’s request, insisting that the work of art was complete. Thankfully, when the masters were delivered later that month, EMI conceded that the album was near enough “commercially satisfactory.”
Noting Talk Talk’s vital artistic presence, EMI elected to extend Talk Talk’s contract for their fifth album. However, Talk Talk were wary of EMI after the disputes. “I knew by that time that EMI was not the company this band should be with,” the band’s manager, Keith Aspden, told Mojo in 2006. “I was fearful that the money wouldn’t be there to record another album.”
Fortunately, such were the times that Talk Talk could sever ties with EMI and enter a new contract with Polydor. Three years later, following many more arduous improvisational sessions, Talk Talk would release their fifth and final album, Laughing Stock. This final discographic entry was even more ambient, esoteric and financially unyielding, but one of the 1990s’ most beautiful releases.
From a modern perspective, Hollis’ decision to leave EMI and find another label willing to humour such extensive and costly sessions following a commercially unimpactful album appears somewhat audacious. Alas, this was a common occurrence between major labels and explorative artists three decades ago. Today, such lavish budgeting would only be spared for the most established and popular artists, such as Taylor Swift or Ed Sheeran: names that would always profit, even from a cover of Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music.
Listen to Mark Hollis discuss the making of Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock below.
