I find this more appealing than the somewhat jazzier ‘Camel/Caravan’ crossover line-up on Rain Dances, and certainly preferable to I Can See Your House From Here or especially The Single Factor by some distance. The window for early ’80s progressive rock predating the neo-prog movement revving up in the wings is a narrow and sparsely populated one, and this – with its gatefold sleeve and intriguing concept – was and remains a fine example.
Although this is a notable album in Camel’s discography, and an expanded reissue, I have to admit that to me it is almost like hearing a new album for the first time. I did hear this album when it was released (in January 1981), but must confess I dismissed is somewhat unfairly quickly. At the time I had not heard any of the intervening albums since the ‘classic’ foursome broke up following 1976’s Moonmadness, and to be fair, with the legacy of those first four albums as its yardstick, this release was always going to fall short. Over the ensuing decades I have of course become familiar with those intervening albums, and some later ones, and yet somehow had never returned to this one. With the proper perspective to see it in the context of Camel’s career at the time, I was quite keen to see just how it stacked up.
In fact, the short answer to that question is that it is in the middle ground. Is Nude another Mirage or Moonmadness? Of course not, such would be a grossly unfair weight of expectation to lay onto its shoulders. However, by the same token, I find this more appealing than the somewhat jazzier ‘Camel/Caravan’ crossover line-up on Rain Dances, and certainly preferable to I Can See Your House From Here or especially The Single Factor by some distance. The window for early ’80s progressive rock predating the neo-prog movement revving up in the wings is a narrow and sparsely populated one, and this – with its gatefold sleeve and intriguing concept – was and remains a fine example. For instance, there are moments here (during the vocal tracks in the main) which have an air of what Pink Floyd were doing with The Wall, but wil a slightly more ’80s’ feel.
Of course, a large part of the appeal of this album was and remains its fascinating concept (as prog fans, we do tend to love a good concept. don’t we?). The story is based on the well-known tale of a Japanese soldier who did not believe the war was over for years afterward – and in fact on the real-life case of Hiroo Onoda, who continued waging guerilla warfare from the jungle on an island in the Philipines until 1974 – 29 years after the war actually ended. The album tells the story of his being stranded after a beach landing went badly wrong, surviving alone until 1974 before finally coming home to a hero’s welcome which he finds himself unable to process or adjust to. As a result, a while later he quietly slips away on a boat to escape the world which he can no longer be a part of. Told sparingly, with only about half of the 15 tracks here having lyrics, it is expanded on in the notes, both on the original album and more so here, and is a powerful tale to base the work on for sure. However, it must be said that in fact great liberties are taken with the actual truth of Hiroo’s situation.
Firstly, the fact of his fighting alone is somewhat exaggerated. In fact, three other men were stranded with him at first – one surrendered in 1950, while the other two both died, one in 1954 but the other not until 1972. So he was only truly alone for the final two years before he was persuaded to give himself up. His inability to adjust to life back in the civilised world is also much embroidered upon – in fact, during his first year back in Japan he actually wrote a book about his experiences entitled No Surrender: My Thirty-Year War, which became a best-seller. He did leave Japan not too long after this, but rather than the romantic idea of his leaving the world to be a recluse somewhere, he actually travelled to Brazil and became a cattle rancher! he married in 1976, and became a key Japanese community figure in his adopted country. In 1984 he returned to Japan, where he lived until his death in 2014 at the age of 91, though he continued to travel back and forth to Brazil where he spent part of each year for quite some time. During this period it also came to light that he and his comrades had killed approximately 30 innocent villagers believing them to be enemies, a fact which he had significantly omitted from his book entirely.
So, it’s still a good story for sure, and a powerful one, but it must be taken with more than a few pinches of salt in terms of being a literal retelling of a factual tale – but then again, it does only claim to be ‘based’ on the life of Hiroo Onada (from whose name the ‘Nude’ title reportedly came), so perhaps we should not judge it on those criteria. Nevertheless, the contrast with the story as historically reported does make interesting reading! However, the matter at hand clearly remains that it is the music by which the album should stand or fall – a good concept is a big help to bolster the experience of a work such as this, but it cannot stand alone. Musical history is littered with failed attempts which tried to do just that, and clearly Andy Latimer (who wrote most of the album along with his wife Susan Hoover) was far too savvy an old head to allow that to happen.
So, what of the music, how does it compare to the Camel of old, and how well has it aged? Well, in a way I would say the album is a little bit of a halfway house between the original Camel and the version which would be found on the albums directly before and after this one. There is certainly less of the ‘Caravan’ jazzy influence, which divided people (and certainly me) on the Rain Dances reinvention of sorts. However, gone is also much of the soaring guitar-led melodicism which fed the likes of The Snow Goose, even when that album shared the pattern of a suite of shorter songs with this one. The mix of vocal tracks with instrumental sections is pitched about right – vocals were never Camel’s strongest suit, and their place here is nicely judged to advance the story without wearing out their welcome. Perhaps a more serious imbalance to these ears is the lack of Andy Latimer’s distinctive lead guitar work – ver much the single most identifiable element of the Camel sound through the years, he rather under-uses himself here, as the creative driving force (although special mention must be made of his work on the splendid Drafted). The flute-led Changing Places is a case in point – one of the longer pieces here, it is certainly a pivotal plot point, and does the job extremely well – but while Latimer’s flute has always been an element of the Camel recipe, I would venture to suggest that relatively few would call for it over his guitar work. The vocal track Lies, towards the end of the record, contains some of the most expansive soloing on the album, but both vocals and solo are notably in thrall to the influence of David Gilmour in Pink Floyd – with even a little touch of the Mark Knopflers here and there. It’s excellent, don’t get me wrong – but it just leaves a slight sense that Latimer has not really found his own ‘voice’ on this recording. Some may also find a few of the instrumental sections veering a little close to new-age ambience in places – not something which bothers me overmuch, but I can imagine some yearning for more ‘fire’ in the performance. As drummer Andy Ward’s last recorded work with the band, he has relatively few opportunities to shine.
On the plus side, we have the always-welcome new Stephen Tayler mix of the album. I am yet to hear a recording which he has failed to improve, and this is the same. While some lower key passages leave little room for change, the improvement can be seen almost immediately as the opening track, the somewhat commercially-tinged City Life. The original mix gives the song an almost tinny, shiny ’80s’ feel to it which dates it seriously, whereas the new mix addresses that very well. That early 1980s feel is still there, but it doesn’t beat you around the head. This the relatively subtle but effective nature of the job throughout here, and it works.
In the final analysis, the need to get this one depends entirely on your relationship with the original. If you like it, I firmly expect you will like the new mix more (not to mention the surround mix on the Blu-ray disc, for those who have the set-up in place), but if you didn’t like the original, there might not be enough here to change your mind. If, however, like me you either missed out on this or else gave it such a short piece of attention that it has dimmed in your memory, this is the best way to check it out anew. And last but not least, that album cover is still rather col in a surreal kind of a way, don’t you think? The 1980s sound wars are over, maybe it’s time to rehabilitate this old warrior…
