I don't recall from the vinyl version of the Fresh Fruit in Foreign Places album the spoken-word overture that now accompanies this song on anthologies and reissues, but it is otherwise exactly the gem I encountered, undiminished: a glittering production of a straightforward lamentation of love lost (maybe—perhaps the spoken-word intro is there to indicate the jury is still out on the matter, all hope not yet lost), complete with swirling strings, sighing Coconuts, woeful backstroke guitar chording for rhythm, and a host of small touches designed to make one's heart swell, as swell it must. Bronx native August Darnell, aka Kid Creole, had a real knack all through the '80s for working memorable pop strains into various molds of world music (by way of Tin Pan Alley and Brill Building) powered by an encyclopedia of rhythmic figures to drive them. Nearly anything he recorded is worth looking into, and some of it is essential. This closer for a concept album about a globe-circling adventure remains my single favorite for its simplicity and for its shameless mournfulness. The voyager has returned home and all he wants now is his Addy. "Dear Addy, I'm afraid / I've lost more than I've gained," so on and so forth. The cries for Addy on the chorus are piercing, just her name and the sweet aching mess of the sound. It only goes to show you can travel the world 'round and when you come home again all you find is yourself, or something like that. It was a top 40 hit in the UK in 1982, which in its own way also just goes to show.
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