Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.With their new album, Secrets, The Human League have become the musical equivalent of Austin Powers, thawed out after decades in cryogenic suspension, with their original attitude and aesthetic fully intact. It's quite spooky that they've managed to remain so perfectly still, moving neither one pace forward nor backward from their Dare heyday. Unfortunately, the synth-pop that was once breathtakingly futuristic has become commonplace in the interim, and rather more sophisticated in its ambitions. There are things to admire about Secrets: the way Phil Oakey rhymes "nervous" with "deserves us"; the coinage "Holland Park guerrilla"; and the laudable sense of local pride underpinning tracks such as "Sin City", "Ringinglow" and "The Snake" – the latter a trans-Pennine clarion call seeking to unite town and country in some unspecified celebration. But the hooks here aren't anywhere near as adhesive as "Love Action" and "Don't You Want Me", while the noodly synthesiser instrumentals that punctuate the songs simply interrupt the album's flow. And ultimately, the League's lack of sustained aesthetic growth over the intervening decades (compared with peers such as Depeche Mode) becomes painfully clear when they're reduced to the playground chanting of "Liar" and "You'll Be Sorry"; but then, how could they grow, having long ago opted for charismatic camp over questing creativity?
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments