David Essex Albums (16)
'Here We Are All Together'
Release Date 8/25/1998
Tracks 15
Label Import
See Album Tracklist and Review
'Living in England'
Release Date 9/19/1995
Tracks 12
Label Cleveland Int'l
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
A strangely low-key release combined both recent and vintage material to offer up an odd America-only counterpart to Essex's latest British-hits collection, tracing him only from his late-'70s shift into more grown-up fare than he is, perhaps, best remembered for. "Oh What a Circus" (from the stage show Evita) and another Tim Rice co-write, "A Winter's Tale," were both U.K. hits from that period, and offer a peculiar counterpoint to the still vibrant rhythms of "Rock On," present here in one of several re-recorded versions that Essex has cut over the years. Also included are both sides of his then-current U.K. single, "A Shoulder to Cry On," and "Living In England" itself. Elsewhere, straightforward versions of "The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore" and "Everlasting Love" are balanced by a remarkably bubbly rendition of "Paint It Black," while Essex's take on Jacques Brel's "Song for Old Lovers" is a highlight for anybody entranced by his ballad work. Nevertheless, Living in England as a whole remains an uneven release, portraying an Essex so completely at odds with the smoldering rocker who hit the U.S. so hard two decades earlier that he is all but unrecognizable. After all, anyone can cover "Rock On" these days. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
David Essex's star was firmly in the descendent by the time this album came along, and even die-hard fans of one of rock's most distinctive voices were beginning to mourn the kind of material he was now wrapping his tonsils around. Essex was at his best as a rocker, but the quest for "all round" mainstream acceptance had taken him far from those roots. He knew it, too. His own autobiography barely mentions this set and, in truth, much of it drifts past without the listener raising a single eyebrow. But not all of it. "Falling Angels Rising" is one of his finest '80s-era performances and would, in fact, become a U.K. hit single the following year, following its revival within the Mutiny soundtrack; another song from this album, "Welcome," was also included in the stage show, conferring at least a little retrospective respectability upon an album that might otherwise have vanished without trace. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Little of David Essex's work for the Mercury label is regularly described as essential, the days when the pop classics simply rolled off his pen having been buried back around the mid-'70s. 1983's Stage Struck, however, does its damnedest to reverse that sorry trend, from the moment the snarling "No Substitute" slams in on hard funk rhythms, tight guitars, and blistered horns, while Essex himself howls out his vocal with an aggression that belies all the accusations of "softening up" that had assailed him in recent years. It is unfortunate that the best known track, "Silver Dream Machine" (the title theme from a motorbiking movie), is also the weakest. It has a road hog of a riff, but the overall impact of the song isn't quite as hard-hitting as it should be. It is, however, a momentary lapse. "Me and My Girl (Nightclubbing)" packs a swagger that is almost dangerous, while "Ooh la Baby Blonde" and "Sleeping With the Director" add a biting lyrical cattiness to their musical punch. Yet, after so much frantic activity, it is ironic that the best has been saved to last, the closing "Stagestruck." Vast and echoing, musically it's a return to the sultry bassiness of Essex's earliest hits, while the lyric is haunted by many of the same ghosts that flit through "Stardust" -- a recipe, of course, that simply cannot be surpassed. It is to the fiery dance rhythms that one's attention keeps returning, however, and the opening salvo that peaks with the tumultuous "You're So Fierce." Not simply an aptly titled second cousin to Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust," that song alone suggests that, at a time when media darlings like (the early) Spandau Ballet and Light of the World were spearheading a so-called new wave of British club funk, Essex was so far ahead of the pack that it wasn't even funny. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
You've got to hand it to him. When David Essex wants a change in direction, he makes sure everybody sees him swerving. Recorded in 1981 with an all-star session band convened by Al Kooper, and highlighted by such names as John Bundrick, Herbie Flowers, and Jeff Baxter, Be Bop the Future is the sound of Essex embracing the electro-dance scene some months ahead of even his best-heeled contemporaries, and pulling it off with room to spare. Edgy dynamism is the motivating force, wrapped around some of Essex's gutsiest vocals in a while. The low-life crime epic "Sunday Papers," with its spectral flashbacks to the protagonist's childhood innocence, draws as much on his acting talents as his singing abilities, while "Life Support System" is layered in a gently futuristic vibe pervasive enough to survive even Baxter's classic rock guitar solo. The impressively Afro-charged "Silly Little Baby Running," meanwhile, gets a head start in the proto-world department, even if its simplicity has not dated well, while the strangely sinister "Showgirls" ricochets around old "Rock On" territory, without ever sounding like anything Essex has done before. The album's peak, however -- and the performance that both named the LP and determined its mood -- is "Be-Bop-A-Lula," reinvented as a turbulent duet for Linn Drum and sequencer, and bisected by some startling Kooper-played synths. Essex himself plays the vocal line straight, a trick that only amplifies the modernity shaping itself around him. Despite such, and so many, virtues, Be Bop the Future not only continued Essex's recent run of lousy luck chartwise, it actually fared even worse than usual, becoming his first album ever to miss the U.K. chart, and the first not to spark at least a minor hit single. Pop fans can be so mystifying, sometimes. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
By 1980, David Essex seemed more comfortable on the theater stage (from whence, to all intents and purposes, he'd come) than in fulfilling his recording contract. His role in Evita had firmly re-established him in that world, while scoring and starring in the motorcycle movie Silver Dream Racer had taken him in another direction entirely. Yet Hot Love -- clearly written in the afterglow of the motorbiking experience -- emerged as Essex's worst performing album yet, while the Top 60 placing scratched from the title track disguises the speed with which history has forgotten it. In fact, Hot Love is nowhere near as bad as its subsequent obscurity suggests. The mood of the album is generally closer to the "Rock On"/"Lamplight" ideal that his old fans still yearned for than anything he'd done in recent years, with "Swim Against the Flow" emerging as another of the portentous epics that Essex is occasionally prone to come out with. Meanwhile, the somewhat second-hand nature of the actual song titles (ask T. Rex, Bryan Ferry, David Bowie, and Foreigner) was surely as deliberate as the cheeky musical borrowings that bubble around the album -- "I Luv Ya" basks in the shadow of Rod Stewart's "Hot Legs," "Talking With Your Body" could have been a latter-day Blockheads rocker, and "On My Bike" is an undisguised rewrite of occasional Essex sideman Chris Spedding's "Motorbikin'." Best of all, though, is "Zebra Kids," a light-hearted romp that includes a seemingly unscripted vocal breakdown, an exuberant carnival atmosphere, and is also one of the best songs the Kinks never cut. Equally fascinatingly, Essex's vocal is pitched perfectly to show how much David Bowie, too, lifted from Ray Davies. If Hot Love has any real failings, then, they lie not in the songs and performances, but in a production that was certainly up-to-date at the time, but has badly dated since then. Excuse (or even enjoy) that, and Hot Love will readily repay your indulgence. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The soundtrack to a fairly dreadful movie about motorbike racing, Silver Dream Racer nevertheless brought David Essex yet another major British hit, as the title track soared to #4, even as the album itself bombed. And almost-deservedly so. Silver Dream Racer is not Essex's finest hour; indeed, tracks like "Suzuki Warlord", "When I'm Dancing" and the positively mawkish "I Think I'll Always Love You" suggest that Essex himself was not especially enamored with the film, and simply wrote the first ditties that came into his head, while he watched the rushes. At the same time, however, there is a rush of energy to the project that at least hints at the movie's intentions; and, if the title track itself isn't quite the British answer to "Born To Be Wild" (Chris Spedding's "Motorbikin'" pips it to that post), at least the thought was there. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
With David Essex having flown the corporate coup for a rebirth on the Mercury label, CBS (his home since his breakthrough, five years earlier) lost no time in compiling a suitable obituary, titled for one of his best-loved hits, but rounding up most of the others and some cool album cuts as well. "Rock On" and "Stardust" are awkward omissions, but "Lamplight," "Gonna Make You a Star," and the ultra-endearingly cloy "If I Did" are compensation enough, while "Dance Little Girl" and "Gold and Ivory" shine a welcome spotlight on later LPs that really weren't given a fair crack of the whip first time around. There would be many more compilations after this, and many more hits, as well. But Hold Me Close remains a rarity, in that it doesn't only seek to profile past successes, it also illustrates the artist's sheer versatility -- and that was something Essex would show a lot of over the next few years. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Ignoring the fiery breath of punk that laid waste so many of his glam rocking peers, David Essex moved into the late '70s on a wave of musical confidence, readjusting his own early teen appeal for a more adult approach, but without ever falling into the prevalent trap of full-on AOR. Imperial Wizard was released in the wake of his biggest hit in three years, "Oh What a Circus" -- performed in Essex's role of Che Guevara in the stage musical Evita. A number three hit in summer 1978, it succeeded a bunch of 45s that had struggled to make the Top 30, but the album proves that its success was not a fluke. Pre-empting the warm, sax-driven moodiness that would soon bring great reward to Gerry Rafferty, Imperial Wizard opens with the smooth "Let It Flow" before drifting into a menacing art-funk vibe ("Call On Me" and the super-rousing title track) that helps dominate the remainder of the album. Elsewhere, Essex even takes on medieval folk song, to firmly establish his all-round musical qualities -- an asset that was to prove of immense importance as the 1980s hove into view. Arguably, the best of his next decade's worth of albums was originally blueprinted here. There are a handful of missteps that prevent Imperial Wizard from truly ascending to the ranks of great Essex albums. But the overall sensation is of a performer who was truly aiming for the long haul, fame and fashion be damned. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
