The first time I ever heard of the Dutch rock band Golden
Earring was when I was watching a music video program that aired on
Chicago television. The video for “Twilight Zone,” the band’s last
American hit, was a staple of both that program and early MTV, and
brought the band’s name to the forefront of the infant video
technology.
Why American audiences never caught onto Golden Earring is
something I’m at a loss to explain or understand. But even I have
to admit that I wasn’t terribly interested in Golden Earring – that
is, until I listened to their 1982 release
Cut (which included “Twilight Zone”) for the first time. For
the most part, the eight songs featured on this record showed there
was more to the band than the one song they became known for in the
’80s.
Led by guitarist George Kooymans and vocalist/guitarist Barry
Hay, Golden Earring have writing rock songs down almost to a
science. Bassist/keyboardist Rinus Gerritsen and drummer Cesar
Zuiderwiik provide a solid backbeat that really captures the
listener’s ear – that is, when Kooymans isn’t dazzling you with his
guitar work. (Kooymans has been recognized as a superior guitar
player in Europe; one wonders why his name isn’t revered along with
others like Rhoads, Van Halen and Clapton on these shores.)
Cut will obviously always be remembered for “Twilight Zone,”
a song whose bass line is instantly recognizable. And while the
bridge prior to Kooymans’s guitar solo could have been shortened a
bit, the song has withstood the passage of time quite well. (Unlike
Golden Earring’s other American hit “Radar Love,” this one hasn’t
been oversaturated on the radio airwaves in recent years.) The
video for this track is probably more notable for the one scene
featuring a topless female for all of one or two seconds – then
again, what was shocking in 1982 in the world of music videos would
hardly cause any notice in 1998.
Ah, but if you think that the rest of
Cut would comprise of danceable songs, you’d be in for one
hell of a surprise. The bulk of this album is actually some
well-crafted rock withgood songwriting – and while one or two
numbers miss the mark, the majority of them beg you for repeated
listens, and hold up well. “Baby Dynamite” takes a little time to
grow on you, but is a good number, while others like “Future” and
“Lost & Found” hit the target almost immediately. “The Devil
Made Me Do It,” the album’s opener, is a slap in the face for those
expecting a different version of “Twilight Zone” – but is a welcome
shift in direction.
Of the misses, only “Chargin’ Up My Batteries” is laughably
painful. The other misfire, “Last Of The Mohicans,” is just
lyrically weak (nothing against Native Americans – hell, the song
has little to do with that, anyway).
The bulk of the songs are so well-crafted that the longer
numbers (only two songs clock in at under four minutes) seem to fly
by. If anything, one might wish that more material had been
included on
Cut. (And you gotta love the Harold Edgerton photo of the
card being sliced by the bullet. Trivia time: What other band used
an Edgerton photo on an album cover?
E-mail me if you know
the answer.)
Golden Earring was a one-hit wonder – twice – in America, a fate
they obviously didn’t deserve.
Cut shows that this band had what they needed to be more
permanent stars in this country, if only people had been willing to
take a chance on them. It appears that this album is presently out
of print, but is well worth searching for at the local used record
store.
