Duran Duran - Seven And The Ragged Tiger

The first record review I ever wrote was for Duran Duran. It was for a Freshman English class where we were instructed to write a review…pro or con…on a movie, album, or any other form of entertainment. I chose the band’s second album, Rio.
I loved it.
I thought it was so awesome that I went out and bought the first album, thoughtfully repackaged by the folks at Capitol records who were out to make a buck off the band’s new fans like me. I didn’t like it as much as Rio and the band’s subsequent saturation caused a certain backlash in my mind.
They turned from a slick post-Bowie new wave band into a band that became excessively merchandised to young teenage girls. This may have already been happening before I knew it as it wasn’t until 1983 that our town finally got MTV. But at that time, right when the band released Seven And The Ragged Tiger, the “fab five” movement was in full swing. And I hated the band for it.
Even though I had this ability to float around various rock genres, there was nothing about Seven And The Ragged Tiger that could remotely pass as cool. Unless you had it in your collection to impress a chick with (there were people that did this), no heterosexual teenage boy would be caught dead with this album in their collection.
So how did I manage to hear it? Funny you should ask, by a friend of mine who happened to adore Duran Duran and who didn’t mind the band’s minor change in direction for album number three.
He also happened to be gay.
Looking back on it now, Seven And The Ragged Tiger is a pretty shitty attempt at an icy-sheened Roxy Music record. Which, in turn, makes it a tolerable Duran Duran record.
I had forgotten how successful this album was back in the day: with no less than three top ten hits (“The Reflex,” “New Moon On Monday,” and “Union Of The Snake,”), this record was keeping teenage girl’s vagina moist both on the way to/from school and in the seclusions of their bedrooms. It’s the remaining tracks that really suffer from the lack of visual stimulations. Seriously, there’s very little on cuts like “(I’m Looking For) Cracks In The Pavement” or “Shadows On Your Side” that will get you hot ‘n bothered. But throw in the image of an androgynous Nick Rhodes putting his index finger on a synthesizer key, and then I’m ready to get down to business.