BMG’s reissue campaign for Slade has been consistent in terms of quality and care, if a little confusing in terms of chronology. Last year, the label dropped four releases: Nobody’s Fools, The Amazing Kamikaze Syndrome, Beginnings, and Alive At Reading. Now, they appear to be filling in the gaps with Till Deaf Do Us Part, the band’s tenth album, and Live At The New Victoria.
The Package
Issued, as is customary, on limited edition splatter vinyl (this time round it’s white and black), Till Deaf Do Us Part comes housed in a single sleeve, with no additional packaging elements. As with the original issue, there’s no insert – just a plain, unlined paper sleeve holding the record itself, with all the liner notes on the rear of the sleeve and the by-now-familiar sticker advertising the vinyl varient on the front. A must for fans who have been following the series, the splatter vinyl is of typically high quality, but there’s nothing here to tempt the merely curious.
The Album
The second of two albums released in the aftermath of the band’s riotous Reading festival set, which saw the band once more filling concert halls, Till Deaf Do Us Part sought to capitalise on the band’s revitalised fame and followed hot on the heels of the compilation album, We’ll Bring The House Down. Unfortunately, disagreements over direction led to friction between Slade and their long-time manager Chas Chandler. As a result, the lead single (Knuckle Sandwich Nancy), flopped out almost apologetically, failing to enter the charts and, while Chandler managed to negotiate a deal that landed the band on RCA, the damage was done, and Chandler was fired. Despite its poor start, the album fared better under RCA and with its second single, Lock Up Your Daughters, hitting the charts, the album garnered the attention it deserved, with contemporary reviews rating it the heaviest Slade album to that point.
Side 1
A picture of an oversized ear with a nail rammed through it, the album art for Till Deaf Do Us Part (uncredited on the sleeve) may not be subtle, but it is a great example of a cover epitomising the content within. Certainly, the image is a mile away from the glammed-up band photos of Slade’s 70’s output, positioning the band firmly in the heavy metal camp for this 1981 offering. Side 1 kicks off most effectively with the organ-drenched fury of Rock ‘n’ Roll Preacher (Hallelujah I’m On Fire). A role Noddy had comfortably embraced since the band first emerged as The Ambrose Slade, he clearly revels in the sheer ludicrousness of it all, the band matching him every step of the way with a track that bridges the gap between Slade’s raucous early outings, Led Zeppelin (from whose Rock ‘N’ Roll the band pillage shamelessly), and Bon Scott-era AC/DC. Having landed on the listener with both feet, Slade clearly have their blood up, because it’s straight into the lascivious Lock Up Your Daughters, a heavy duty stomp that sounds like Whitesnake covering Deep Purple, it’s a blistering outing that foreshadowed much of what would dominate MTV by the end of the decade, making it all the more remarkable that the album rarely gets the recognition it deserves. Next up, the title track continues the ecclesiastical pastiche, with swathes of organ providing the introduction to a gloriously shambolic rock and roller that’s more Todd Rundgren than Billy Graham. Then there’s Ruby Red, a track with a strong glam pulse and an addictive chorus. The first side concludes with another taut rocker titled She Brings Out The Devil In Me, and by this point, you’re wondering where the hell the band get all their energy, because they don’t let up once on the first side.
Side 2
Kicking off side 2, the organ swell of A Night To Remember gives way to an explosive riff, with Noddy’s raw-throated holler not far behind. An album highlight, it’s well placed to open the second side and it showcases Slade at their bombastic best, even throwing in a drum solo for good measure. The band’s penchant for whimsical titles returns on M’Hat M’Coat, an instrumental and bluesy segue that gives way to the insanely catchy It’s Your Body Not Your Mind, which sees Slade out-Kissing Kiss. The gloriously foolish Let The Rock Roll Out Of Control is a relatively straight forward rocker, and arguably the weakest track on offer here. Fortunately, the confident swagger of That Was No Lady That Was My Wife gets things firmly back on track, and you can all but hear the likes of Def Leppard taking notes. Up next, the much maligned Knuckle Sandwich Nancy is a solid track, but definitely not the single to lead the campaign, lacking the instinctive brilliance of A Night To Remember or That Was No Lady That Was My wife. Nontheless, it’s a great workout for Don Powell, who drums himself into a stupor. This most rambunctious of Slade albums closes with the short Till Deaf Resurrected, a cheeky coda that wraps up the album neatly and leaves the listener with a massive smile plastered across their features.
Conclusions
The band’s tenth album, Till Deaf Do Us Part sees Slade re-energised to quite a remarkable degree. In many ways it echoes the trajectory that Kiss would take with Creatures Of The Night the very next year, with both bands indulging their heaviest impulses, offering little in the way of respite, and gaining a whole new audience in the process. An absolutely full-on monster of a record, with very few weak links, Till Deaf Do Us Part deserves far greater recognition as a precursor to a style of heavy metal that, by the mid-80s would be more or less ubiquitous. As it is, it’s a damn fine album and a worthy reminder of the sheer firepower Slade could bring to bear when the mood took them. 9/10
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