The Automatik

New Door Records, 2004

In May of 2004, Q Magazine printed a “Cash For Questions” column featuring Tears For Fears. Despite the magazine’s editorial flourishes, it was clear that members Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith aren’t exactly friends. When asked which of them is the best singer, each one unequivocally responded, “I am.” Orzabal went on to defend his past pretentiousness by saying that they are now “both humorous and pretentious, pretentious and middle aged. We’re both 42, after all.”

“But I look younger,” interrupts Smith. “Cunt,” retorts Orzabal.

Besides making for great press, such animosity seems to also make for great music. If all you remember about Tears For Fears is Roland Orzabal’s big mouth and Curt Smith’s buttoned up polo shirts, listening to Everybody Loves a Happy Ending will shatter those notions.

The title track is something akin to “Sowing the Seeds of Love, Part Two,” that is, with the post-Beatle-esque harmonies and mid-song style shifts they have somehow made into their own trademark. But the album is much more than just a nod to those famous Liverpudlians.

For one thing, they don’t try the “Tears For Fears for a new generation” shtick by remaking any of their songs (think of the dreadfully embarrassing “I Melt With You ’90″ that Modern English foisted upon us). Nor do they try to sound like they were made for the club scene, either. In fact, I heard “Closest Thing to Heaven” piped in through the in-store PA system at a department store recently and I became momentarily alarmed, thinking perhaps Tears For Fears were now Adult Contemporary, no one told me, and that I was an old fart.

But if Adult Contemporary means superior, emotionally affecting music, then bring it on.

The production on this album is superb, but rather than coming across as sterile, sounds completely lush and organic. The musicianship is similarly amazing, recalling mid-’80s XTC, or as a friend of mine wondered, “When did Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding join Tears For Fears?” This is especially apparent on the lovely and radio-friendly “Call Me Mellow,” that is, if radio were actually friendly to good music these days. But really, despite these influences, this is all Tears For Fears and it’s beyond glorious.

Orzabal seems to have learned not to bring primal scream therapy into the studio, or to put it another way, he has realized that you don’t have to yell every lyric to get your point across. On “The Devil,” which is possibly not only a perfect song musically, but also lyrically, his restraint is astonishing and effective. It’s not the only song in which he surprises me. This is a (mostly) rhetorical question, but seriously, why can’t everyone create songs as stunning as “Ladybird?”

Smith, who I never considered the better singer, has definitely shown me the error of my ways. To unearth that old writer’s chestnut, if you look up the word “plaintive” in the dictionary, you’ll see Smith’s puppy dog eyes mooning up at you. “Who You Are” is all sustained notes and shifting harmonies, and God help me if it doesn’t make me well up a little every time I hear it.

“Secret World” is gorgeous and romantic, with a chorus that sticks like gum chewed on a late August day. The spontaneous applause at the end is well-deserved. If Paul McCartney still made songs this good, we’d all be happier people.

The album leaves us (oh, please don’t leave us), with the gently funky “Last Days on Earth,” in which Orzabal does something I never thought possible: he actually sounds soulful and (dare I say it) sultry. Trust me, if you heard this song somewhere, you would never think this was the same band that sang “Head Over Heels.”

Another query in that Q “Cash For Questions” column inquired what the two thought of Duran Duran getting a lifetime achievement nod at the 2003 Q Awards. Predictably, Orzabal scoffed, and asked, “How do you define achievement? I don’t care about awards, anyway. As Sting once said. . . ” Annoyed, Smith interjected, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, please don’t start quoting Sting.” Orzabal finished, “. . . as Sting once said, Music is its own reward.”

With this album, that’s decidedly true. I always thought I was a lover, not a fighter, but if Smith and Orzabal’s enmity keeps them making music this incredible, then I think I choose the latter.