There were no slow news days for the music media in the 1970s. The stories seemed to write themselves: overdoses, self-imposed exiles, curses of popular culture on prime-time television, scenes conceived from nothing. And those stories said nothing of the music itself, which was being torn to shreds and rewritten on every dirty street corner from Berlin to Los Angeles. That in mind, when listening to the gruff -- though well-executed -- guitar pop of The Lines (not to be confused with the more recent Wolverhampton band of the same name), it’s no wonder the band flew under the radar. Lacking the rhythmic urge of The Jam, the three-chord absurdity of The Kinks, the lyrical quips of Buzzcocks, and any sort of punk ferocity, The Lines were so obscured from radio success that any semblance of cool, rebellion, or, in spite of themselves, fame entirely eluded them. Yet as their selected, career compilation Memory Span attests, The Lines were a solid band.
Expertly sequenced, Memory Span is a depiction of growth. In fine detail, it sketches The Lines as they transform from a punky garage band to purveyors of urgent, unpredictable rock music drenched in atmospherics and elaborate funk rhythms. The compilation begins with a collection of early singles that, despite their scrappy under-production, ring with potential. With sly riffing, melodic vocals, and bounding beats, songs like “White Night,” “Not Through Windows,” and “Uneasy Affair” toggle between off-kilter power and budding poetics. Still, it isn’t until The Lines abandon traditional song structures on their 1980 singles that they truly discover their element. “Nerve Pylon” displays a rich melodic range that hearkens back to such pop-rock luminaries as The Left Banke and The Zombies. “Over the Brow” trumps everything before it with a maniacal melding of Middle Eastern melodies, droning brass, and a dub-style rhythmic pulse. These songs, glistening with catchiness and intrigue, set the tone for the remainder of the compilation, which includes high points “Part II” and “Old Town.” The former possesses a minimalist, head-trip groove that echo-plays with distant guitar squelches. “Old Town” is Memory Span’s most rhythmically dynamic track in its melding of tribal beats with a slow, dooming dirge.
As interesting as Memory Span's sonic emergence is, the album still has a few growing pains. “Background,” with its bubbling, bounding backbeat, fails to ignite, and “House of Cracks” is an overwrought take on the devices that make so many of The Lines’ 1980s output work. Yet to dissect this compilation track for track would be missing the point. Instead, if Memory Span is digested as a documentary, a log of what went right and wrong in the lifetime of a wholly under-regarded band, then you’re sure to be rewarded.