The spy who loved him

RETRO: Colin Blunstone - "Caroline Goodbye"

For reasons passing comprehension, much of my recent crate-digging has oscillated between late-'60s pysch rock and the laid-back, comedown soft rock that flourished along the West Coast in the early '70s. And as best as I can tell, One Year--the restrained and delicate solo debut of The Zombies' frontman, Colin Blunstone--is the missing link between the two. Never mind that it was an ocean and a continent removed.

The 1971 album was rereleased earlier this year, and I can't recommend it highly enough. One Year is essentially a spiritual, albeit stripped-down, follow-up to The Zombies' flawless and final album, 1968's Odessey and Oracle, with production by the band's primary songwriters, Rod Argent and Chris White, and a sharp focus on Blunstone's breathy, angelic vocals.

Blunstone penned four of One Year's 10 cuts himself, and surprisingly, these are the best here (he wrote only two Zombies songs). Among his contributions is "Caroline Goodbye," a stunning and plaintive ballad about his break-up with the actress Caroline Monro. In so much music of the early '70s, and especially on albums by the largest figures of the preceding decade, artists' sentiments and the studio's sheen failed to align. With song like "Caroline Goodbye"--and on albums by John Phillips, John Lennon, Curtis Mayfield, Gram Parsons, and their peers--there is vulnerability, and uncertainty, and a general frustration with the failure of the '60s dream, often beneath ornate and celebratory casts. As "Caroline Goodbye" begins, Blunstone sounds fragile and weather-worn, barely whispering to gentle guitar strums. Yet even as he bridges to the chorus with "I should've known better," and as bouncy piano flourishes nearly telegraph optimism in the face of heartbreak, he can't shake his despair: On the last word, his voice cracks. From there on, "Caroline Goodbye" is a gorgeous, shimmering concoction of stirring strings and horns, Spanish guitars and one final, glorious crescendo, yet no matter how many sound layers White and Argent pile on, the whole thing is depressing as hell. I love it.