Whether it’s the brilliant ‘Cloudbusting’, whose theme focuses on the Austrian psychologist Wilhelm Reich, a man who built a cloudbusting device powered by cosmic energy, and, incidentally, a man who was later arrested by the FBI. Bush expertly uses the themes of love and romance to colour much of the initial sheen one feels when first listening - but there are still moments of darkness littered throughout the record. It’s a marriage of duelling concepts which she also manages to produce throughout much of the album’s run time. Samplers and synths are mixed with choirs in ‘Hello Earth’ while ‘Jig Of Life’, as one might expect, was a traditional Irish ditty discovered by her brother Paddy. The addition of this modernity into Bush’s already overflowing crucible of folk, theatrics and tradition, created a truly unique sound. She employed the most state-of-the-art studio technology, using a delicate mixture of synths, Linn drum machines and use of the Fairlight CMI sampler to become a unique proposition of new in 1985. The album sees Bush commanding this ever-changing landscape with the staunch command of a tribal queen, not by simply submitting to new technologies but by moulding them into her image. “It’s in the trees, it’s coming!” the first words of ‘Hounds of Love’ was initially taken from the 1957 British horror film Night of the Demon. It showed that Bush, along with the fast-paced musical world of the eighties, was not only willing to change but was adamant about her evolution. The first moments of that song also provide another area often left untouched by precocious musical snobs such as my younger self. Bush expressed herself through her instrument, unlike any artist I had ever heard. Drums thunder like they only do in folklore, and Bush’s vocal manages to range from the utterly beautiful to the beautifully guttural. The title track arrives with a simple power that renders it one of the best pop songs ever written. The seismic shift in my position continued to change and make me look…like a right twat. Entrenched in the idea that our protagonist has finally managed to see life through the eyes of her lover, it explored unknown areas of the pop world. The first hit of ‘Running Up That Hill’ was, when given ample room to breathe, not just a pop masterpiece but an undulating and intriguing song like none I had ever heard before or quite possibly since. I sat down to listen, as intently as possible, to Kate Bush’s 1985 record, ready to reaffirm my position with some witty retorts and expertly practised snorts of derision. It was a good choice, as Bush’s second record to top the UK albums chart and her best-selling studio record to date, it was certified double platinum for 600,000 sales in the UK, and by 1998, it had sold 1.1 million copies worldwide, is a triumph.
#Hounds of love kate bush album tv#
Her visually enveloping, but somewhat scary to a child, videos were a mainstay of the ‘classic rock’ channels of our low-level Sky TV subscription that seemed to provide a lifeforce to all of us who watched it - but Kate Bush just never clicked with me. Bush’s track ‘ Wuthering Heights’ had been pronounced as “one of the greatest songs ever written” during one particularly lovelorn day for my older brother. I was blessed with a musically minded family who was as happy for me to gorge on radio and MTV for experimentation and education as they were for me to soda stream my milk (don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it). Of course, I had been aware of Bush’s work for some time. For me, well, it took a lot longer and with a great deal of pushing and a hefty dose of “I told you so”, but now I’m atop of this hill (having crawled rather than ran), and it’s one that I will happily die upon. For many, it happens upon first listening. The moment you realise that Kate Bush is a unique artist unlike any other can strike you at any given time.
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