Dire Straits’ Mark Knopfler sounded like an atavistic throwback from the very start—a throwback to another, and in his mind, better time. “Sultans of Swing” was a celebration of the past, whether it was about the present or not. With Dire Straits’1978 debut, Knopfler introduced himself as a musical conservative dedicated to the proposition that punk never happened. He was a counter-revolutionary with a guitar.
“An active member of the Fraternal Order of Old Farts since birth,” Robert Christgau once said of Knopfler. “Money for Nothing” is a prime example. It’s the rare Dire Straits song that sounds of our time, but Knopfler definitely comes across as an Old Fart. He mocks the working class for thinking musicians have it easy, and comes across like a rock elitist harboring a grudge.
He seems to disdain a proletariat unwilling to spend the ten hours a day necessary to master the guitar. I doubt it has ever occurred to him that the know-nothings in “Money for Nothing” weren’t lazy (ever try to move a refrigerator, Mark?), but the victims of an industrialized society that condemned them to grunt work.
But there’s no denying Dire Straits have recorded their fair share of commendable songs, even if few of them are as electrifying as Knopfler’s guitar. There’s something staid about the work of Dire Straits—they impress, but they rarely thrill. Tasteful, always—but tasteful, perhaps, to a fault. The only tasteless thing about Dire Straits is Knopfler’s frequent slurs against gays, which is definitely an Old Fart thing to do.
I’ve always liked Knopfler’s Dylan-tinged vocals, his guitar playing ditto, although I wish he’d cut loose more often. There’s something overly polite about Dire Straits’ music. Short leash across the board—they only come to upping one’s pulse on up-tempo songs like “Down to the Waterline” and the great “Skateaway.”
I would call 1985’s Brothers in Arms a representative Dire Straits album, but all of Dire Straits’ albums are representative Dire Straits albums—you won’t find any radical deviations from their heavily polished, highly crafted, tightly reined-in, largely mid-tempo blues rock sound.
I will state for the record that Brothers in Arms is one of Dire Straits’ better records. It’s not as rock solid as 1980’s Making Movies, mind you, but how to top an LP that includes “Tunnel of Love,” “Espresso Love,” “Romeo and Juliet,” and the best song Dire Straits ever recorded, “Skateaway”?
Brothers in Arms is a strong starter with a very good A side—side B is dicier but still a worthwhile proposition. Mid-tempo opener “So Far Away” won’t make your hair stand on end, but the guitar hook is addictive, as is the song’s undeviating course from beginning to end. It sucks you in, even while you’re thinking, “This song is kind of boring.” Not an easy feat.
And say what you will about “Money for Nothing,” it has a lot going for it, from the lengthy synth-atmospheric opening (that is, of course, Sting repeating “I want my MTV” from off in the synthesized ether) to Terry Williams’ complex drum pattern to Knopfler’s heavy metal guitar. Great chorus, too, but perhaps the best thing about the song is its very-unlike-Dire-Straits brutal, take-no-prisoners drive. For once in his life Knopfler throws tasteful out the window.
That said, his resentment against the working-class hoi polloi is irksome (how dare they mock coddled mansion-dwellers?) and almost makes me think he’s a closet libertarian, and if this is his idea of humor I’m enormously grateful he generally displays no sense of humor at all.
“Walk of Life” is an up-tempo number and dressed-up old-school rocker with a slow Alan Clark Hammond organ intro. He’s soon joined by a synthesizer-driven keyboard riff by Guy Fletcher, after which Knopfler comes in with a percolating rockabilly guitar riff and some vocals on which he name-drops a lot of great oldies. It reminds me of mid-career Springsteen and is a wonderful salute to a kid playing guitar in the subway, honing his chops.
Practice and more practice may be the only values Knopfler understands.
After that the vinyl road gets bumpier. The easy-listening jazz of “Your Latest Trick” is a nadir. Everybody and his brother (by which I mean those horn-playing nuisances Michael and Randy Brecker) do their best to bore you stiff, and they continue to do so after Knopfler comes in on vocals, uttering the banal “I played the blues in twelve bars down on Lover’s Lane” before calling his lover stupid. It’s not your standard Dire Straits fare, but it performs the amazing feat of making you want to hear more standard Dire Straits fare.
Ballad “Why Worry” proceeds at a glacial crawl, features some overly bright, Outer Limits synthesizers doing the wash of life, as well as Knopfler doing his best to sound quietly sensitive on vocals. And that’s not all. You get vibes! The amazing Tony Levin on Chapman Stick, although I’ll be damned if I can hear him, so maybe he forgot to plug in! You get the usual guitar on a leash! And the instrumental take-out is real classy, as in boring as shit, with Knopfler the ax-player showing more restraint than he probably ought to.
“Ride Across the River” features another space-age opening, made somewhat interesting by what sounds to me like a Yeti banging a heavy rock on a tree. He’s not mentioned in the credits. The synthesizer works, Dave Plews plays some fine trumpet, but it’s Knopfler’s guitar playing that wins the day.
The bluesy “The Man’s Too Strong” has a strong tempo and is very Dylanesque, and boasts lots of snazzy guitar spiel and lots of TNT-strength power chords that prove Knopfler can make a din when he wants to. He rarely wants to.
“One World” has guest Neil Jason’s bass and Knopfler’s guitar winning the day—Knopfler’s in show-off mode, and that’s always a boon. “Brothers in Arms” doesn’t much impress until the drums come in, but Knopfler’s blues-rock guitar fills are fine indeed and make up for the song’s anything but dynamic personality. Knopfler’s very strong guitar solo and Clark’s Hammond organ join forces to take the song out, and that outro, which closes Brothers in Arms, just happens to be one of the finest moments on the album.
Knopfler will never be known as “Mr. Excitement,” at least to me—he’s far too drawn to slow-burners, and his “class” and “restraint” can be galling. But if you accept him for just what he is, namely a rather staid and starchy traditionalist dedicated to craftsmanship for craftsmanship’s sake at a time when music had gone DIY raw, and class and restraint were considered downright old-fashioned, you have to concede that Dire Straits, a band I’ve never much cared for because of their class and restraint, have their merits.
That said, I don’t think Dire Straits ever produced a great album. Brothers in Arms isn’t a great album. Hidebound traditionalist that he is, Knopfler doesn’t take enough chances, for the simple reason that taking chances rarely interests traditionalists. He’s an auteur working a narrow vein. He doesn’t start fires. He’s more of a fireman and self-erected bulwark against those out to destroy the manly virtues of fine musicianship and the finely crafted song.
He makes me think of Custer at the Battle of the Big Horn, doomed but fighting to the last. Dire Straits ARE the Sultans of Swing, old-fashioned, maybe a bit or even a lot out of touch, not that Knopfler has ever cared. Can you imagine Mark Knopfler listening to the Sex Pistols?
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B-
