PREFAB SPROUT ARE BACK!
something of it?"
Sprout don't open doors the conventional way. That's the first thing you learn
about them. With a violent thud, the locked, oak-panel door hits the floor. The
broken hinges go flying. A cloud of plaster disperses to reveal the strapping
figure of Paddy McAloon, the leader of the band. This is what's known as their
new, "no nance-sense" approach. Their fan club now goes by the name of the
"Prefab Sprout Militia" and they have a short way with those who murmur derisory
McAloon strutted manfully around the Maker offices as staff froze
in front of their word processors in trepidation. "We hear some of you people
think there's something funny about Prefab Sprout. Something a little... cissy."
With that, he grabbed each of the Stud Brothers by the neck and held them up
against the wall, his biceps glistening impressively. "Well, if we want to
infuse our pop with a wry, almost mannered self-referentiality, a lightweight,
post-modern sensibility that echoes Sondheim and even 10cc, we'll damn well go
right on and do it. You got a problem with that, boys?"
"Cooeeeee!" Oh, dear. The chink in their armour. The daffy girl
that does their backing vocals. McAloon tried to ignore her. She was the only
member of the group who hadn't spent the last two weeks pumping iron.
"She's just a girl," hissed McAloon to the others "She'll soon get
fed up and go away." But Wendy called again "Cooeee, Padeee. It's time for us to
record the ha-ha-harmonieeees," she trilled, breathlessly McAloon turned pink
with embarrassment as looks of fear around the Maker offices melted into
amusement and outright guffaws.
He sloped away, at Wendy's behest "Still the same old nance!"
jeered a nameless voice behind him.
Lower photo: Wendy, who provides the
harmonies indispensible to Prefab Sprout's sound