Doppelganger (1983)

Interesting that the Kid Creole reissues of just a few years ago have evidently already sunk without a trace, other than Fresh Fruit and this—my impression had always been that 1982's Wise Guy more or less endured as the go-to choice, at least for most critics, so go figure. I like pretty much everything August Darnell did, which also includes Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band in the '70s, but for better or worse the two Kid Creoles still available besides anthologies and live albums (worthwhile themselves, of course, to varying degrees) are also my two favorites. Maybe it's because they're the ones that sound most like musical productions never mounted? And the more's the shame for that. I can't discern a theme in this sparkling mess, let alone a story line (nor could Robert Christgau), but the clues are tantalizing, starting with the title. August Darnell, Dr. Buzzard, Kid Creole, not to mention at an extensive curriculum vitae of studio session work, and did you know the guy has a master's in English? "Doppelganger" doesn't even begin to cover the teeming identities finding ways to coexist inside Darnell's tiny frame. And I'm telling you, the guy not only merits more attention, but positively rewards it, with horns and charging rhythms, melody and a pristinely clarified production, propelling it all, from the exuberant album kickoff "The Lifeboat Party" to the obligatory new wave cover gesture of "If You Wanna Be Happy" to the touchstone declaration of general purpose, "Call Me the Entertainer." There's even a leftfield meditation on dead rock stars, "Survivors" ("It happened to Jimi, it happened to Janis, it happened to Elvis [eliding toward Walrus] too / It happened to Vicious, and Frankie-uh Lymon, it can happen to me and you"). Oh, and here's another that would appear to signify intention, "Broadway Rhythm," with something to say about "integrated rock 'n' roll." And the lovely "Back in the Field Again," with very few twists and turns, just a brave and bittersweet avowal post-divorce that things are going to be all right again, maybe. It all closes on something called "The Seven Year Itch." As you may surmise, there's show biz all over the place here, stuffed into every nook. And if the whole never manages to cohere into anything greater than the sum of its mystifying parts, there's an awful lot of pleasure to be had attempting to piece it all together.