A-Ha - Scoundrel Days
The band's sophomore album is 40 years old
40 years before the release of A-ha’s second album, which is 40 years old this year, the synthesiser was nothing but an idea in the mind of atomic physicist Hugh Le Caine, but with the sort of industriousness you might associate with his profession had by 1948 had built the very first voltage-controlled sound synthesiser. He called it the Electronic Sackbut Synthesiser. The name might have benefited from sounding less like Edwardian sex toy, but it carved the path for music to come.
The Sackbut’s ancestors , the Roland Juno-60 and Yamaha DX7 were used to great effect on A-ha’s Hunting High and Low, but the Norwegian poster boys mined a rockier sound with the release of their sophomore album to cement the global success of Take on me and the Sun Always Shines on TV. In 39 minutes, they risked alienating all their fans who had missed the dark Nordic winters at the heart of their art. This is music seeped in folklore and chilly romanticism sweetened with effortless melodies and tunes modern artists still hunt the foothills for.
A-ha spent most of 1986 being drowned out at concerts by screaming girls berserk for the trio’s cheekbones, adidas hi-tops and multiple wrist bracelets. But Morrissey was listening, as were more recent fans Coldplay and Keane.
It’s easy to see why A-ha are so deeply misrepresented in the pubic eye. Better known for frothy shiny pop, represented here by Maybe Maybe, than the murky depths of the mysterious Looking for the Whales. This album confirmed they could do both with a graceful aplomb. It struts with a sinister capability.
Was that someone screaming..? isn’t exactly how you’d expect teen heartthrobs to open an album, but the title track is more paranoid than a mouse in kestrel cage. The three openers pack a punch the rest of the album flies from; they land like no one associates with 80s pop music. They were a Smash Hits Joy Division. The title track soars like it’s hunting prey, with Morten delivering an irreplaceably haunted vocal. The ‘how can I sleep with your voice in my head?’ of The Swing of Things pulls the soul into a sort of embrace that demands his deep purr in the middle 8. Nordic pop hunks have never skated so near the precipice of mental collapse. The sweeping and sultrily murderous I’ve Been Losing You was written during the major world tour in Australia to complement these darker songs left off their debut. It’s desperation for guidance and advice underpinned by an irresistible hook remains one of their peak moments.
A-ha remain the greatest misunderstood band to this day. There’s black humour in their immaculate desolation. The synths are dialled down for rock guitars and thunderous drumming. Their sultry backing vocals are the Everley Brothers lost in a Stephen King novel. It’s an album of strangers’ footsteps, wet newspapers and Manhattan skylines with four choruses, lost whales, the weight of the wind of a wistful October and those lush Soft rains of April. Down in the city at dusk the lonely desperation is perfectly captured by the otherworldly cover. A-ha in 1986 were the polar expedition that knows they’ll be eating the troop of huskies before the month is out.
The album, despite the ubiquitous Cry Wolf, derailed the chart-conquering project enough for them to revert to more centre line pop with its follow up Stay on these Roads, but 40 years later Scoundrel Days shines as an example of how heavy shadows can be carried on the shoulders of seemingly breezy pop.