I get why Robbie Patton didn’t make it big, though I also see why so many in his orbit really thought he would — not just Atlantic Records execs looking for a new star but particularly Christine McVie, who sings on (but did not produce, as erroneously stated elsewhere*) this third album of his after co-helming his second.
Surely this upstart looked promising on paper, especially with McVie as cheerleader and all of Fleetwood Mac enjoying their first MTV smash via ‘Hold Me,’ which Patton co-wrote.
But before we delve into the music here — which is hardly incompetent, just instantly forgettable — we must contend with that cover. I know the early ‘80s provided more than its share of bafflingly bad artwork, but what marketing hack in her (or more likely his) right mind would approve this mess? What’s even happening in this double exposure?
Yes, upon telling us he’s received Orders from Headquarters in the title track, Robbie immediately declares ‘I don’t like it.’ So, ok, he’s tossing aside the telephone as if refusing the request. And then he’s … hiding his head in shame?
Or did the receiver emit a tone so piercing it caused him to go deaf and blind? Maybe he realized he’s late again for his job flinging slices at Shakey’s? Did someone really get paid to decide this looked ‘new wave’?
It’s nothing of the sort, of course, despite how often I hear traces of Split Enz-era Neil Finn in Patton’s voice. As I pointed out while revisiting Robbie’s Distant Shores, an equally appealing yet nothing-special precursor from ’81, he reminds me most of Rick Springfield circa ’Jessie’s Girl.’ Also a less amped-up John Waite transitioning away from the Babys.
Those comparisons underscore the redundancy of a disc like this in ‘82: near-clones, no matter how talented, rarely fare as well as the real thing. Even a divorce duet with Stevie Nicks (the stale metaphors of ‘Smiling Islands’) at a time when she could belch out gold records still couldn’t land this thing on people’s record players.
Bless Christine for believing in him and abetting his projects — even if she isn’t truly responsible for this one.
Another factor I feel torpedoed Robbie’s chances before he fired this one away: the lyrics. They aren’t all so mundane and banal. He was a capable tunesmith with a knack for emotionally shifting bridges, and sometimes he finds just the right plainspoken words to sing over them.
But then there are bits like ‘Feel the Flow,’ one of those fast-tempo you-can-do-it wannabe self-help anthems perfect for a Karate Kid soundtrack, but which I can only compare to Dirk Diggler’s ‘Feel My Heat’ in Paul Thomas Anderson’s porn period (master)piece Boogie Nights. Only, Robbie’s innuendo isn’t intentional.
‘Feel the flow,’ he sings. ‘Feel … That … Flow! … Come on and FEEEEL IT!!!’
(All I can hear is: ‘Feel, feel, feel … feel my heat!’)
‘Do it,’ he insists, ‘and I swear you will never be sorry.’
That sort of claptrap might be all right for Billy Squier, who’d somehow get the double entendres just right. But sung … earnestly? Really? Even in ’82 that was bullshit.
[*Both the biography of Robbie Patton on the comprehensive AllMusic site as well as his Wikipedia page incorrectly state that Christine McVie produced his second and third albums. Untrue. It clearly states in all-caps on the back cover of this LP that Orders from Headquarters was produced by Patton and Peter Coleman. McVie only contributes backing vocals, and on only one song, the closing ‘Look Away.’]