FROM NEW WAVE ANTHEMS TO SYNTH-DRIVEN GEMS AND PURE POP, THE MIDDLESEX-BORN SINGER BOASTS A WILDLY ECLECTIC BACK CATALOGUE
JON O’BRIEN
ALBUM BY ALBUM
Discovered by the one-man hit factory Mickie Most and guided by songwriter and 50s teen idol father Marty, Kim Wilde arrived on the music scene in 1981 with a considerable early rock and roll pedigree. But her self-titled debut album soon proved that she had little interest in being the female answer to Shakin’ Stevens.
Indeed, featuring prog rockers The Enid on backing, its forward-facing melting pot of post-punk, New Wave and synth-pop was more suited to The Blitz and CBGBs than the sock hop, with only the vintage girl group harmonies on Young Heroes throwing a nod to the past.
The assistance from younger brother Ricky Wilde, himself a brief pop idol in the early 70s, no doubt helped keep things fresh. Kim’s sibling produced the entire album, also co-writing its 10 tracks with Wilde Senior. This fruitful behind-the-scenes partnership would shape much of Kim’s early career.
This family arrangement also spawned, lyrically speaking, some of the most idiosyncratic songs of the era. Although not entirely averse to the age-old subjects of love and heartbreak, Kim Wilde tackles everything from urban decay (Our Town) to tinnitus (Water On Glass) and even prostitution (“She doesn’t have to make her money that way/ She’s such a pretty young girl,” Kim sings on the ska-inflected 2-6-5-8-0).
That’s not to say the star attraction, who’d only graduated from St. Albans College of Art and Design the previous year, was incidental on her own record. Blessed with a melodious and malleable voice, Kim sells the heck out of punchy opposites-attract anthem Chequered Love and closing sci-fi epic Tuning In Tuning On. But she’s equally comfortable toning things down, as on the wistful reggae of Everything We Know and melancholic guitar pop of You’ll Never Be So Wrong, as she is belting out songs as big as her bottles of hairspray.
Of course, Kim Wilde will always be defined by its behemoth of a lead single.
Borrowing its nagging bassline from Gary Numan, effervescent synths from Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark and general allure from Blondie, Kids In America brings together all the best that early-80s pop had to offer in three-and-a-half glorious minutes. Forget Shaddap You
