Fegmania! (1985)

Robyn Hitchcock's follow-on to I Often Dream of Trains was a kick in the season of Talking Heads' Little Creatures, Danny & Dusty's Lost Weekend, and the Knitters' first. For one thing Hitchcock was playing with a band again—the Egyptians, 60% of which actually used to be Soft Boys, so really kind of back to that, though I think Kimberly Rew must be missed because something is missing. Or, anyway, this gets close to the best of the Soft Boys only infrequently and in short bursts. Compared to Hitchcock's previous solo outing, it feels slightly muddied with rehearsal, collaboration, and group dynamics, erasing much of the sharp edge of Trains. It's still the zany Hitchcock eight-ball stream of conscious blab—note title, a made-up word—zinging out from realms and quarters of where the fuck. The song by which Fegmania! may be best known is "My Wife and My Dead Wife," which you should be able to tell right away is working the surrealism beat again. "My wife and my dead wife / Am I the only one that sees her?" he cries plaintively on the chorus. One theory is that he's in a relationship but haunted by another, so "metaphorical." Another is that he's insane, so "literal." And still another is that it's true and right in an inscrutably personal way, so "poetic." I'm opting for the third as a general safe bet for all best outcomes. The song is also funny because it's sung a bit like a predicament episode of some sitcom, with the feeling somewhere between Lars and the Real Girl and the heartrending episodes of The Walking Dead. But it must be said that it also flirts dangerously with an eerily disaffected misogyny. I thought the best songs were on the second side, the ones I put on tapes—still associate this one with vinyl and cassette tapes and such—"The Man With the Lightbulb Head," "Glass," and "Heaven," which veer from surreal radio theater slapstick horror to elysian fields and cloudy mountaintop spiritual vistas. "Glass" is suffused with sadness because it always breaks and "Heaven" approximates its namesake the best way a rock band can, by playing together so carefully and letting the song carry everything away. In fact, it's one of the better songs named "Heaven."