Dire Straits 6: Brothers In Arms

The previous two Dire Straits albums sport a sublime mix of storytelling and atmospherics, and were much bigger overseas than in America. Whether or not it was a conscious decision, Brothers In Arms tells few stories and buries the few melodies in contemporary mush from a pile of session cats augmenting what used to be a tight little combo. And the lyrics, previously worthy of the pen of a former English teacher, sound dashed off. Where he used to edit for quality, henceforth Knopfler songs will simply run long.

Despite all this, it sold by the bucketful for the next two years, usually to people with new CD players needing something familiar to show off. Even the words “A FULL DIGITAL RECORDING” were emblazoned on the cover in the same typeface and weight as the artist and title. This was also one of the first albums to take advantage of the extended CD playing time, with four tracks on what we still call side one longer on cassette and disc than the record. (That’s not always a good thing.)

“So Far Away” is mostly inoffensive, if a bit simple, but “Money For Nothing” got all the attention, thanks to its recognizable riff, Sting vocal and early anti-MTV stance. “Walk Of Life” took that grating accordion phrase to endless ESPN highlights reels. “Your Latest Trick” expands on the smooth jazz leanings of the previous album with too much saxophone, underscored by the sappy trumpet in the lounge intro lopped off the LP version. “Why Worry” would have been one of the slighter songs on the earlier albums, but here it stands out for its unobtrusiveness; this one runs over three minutes longer on the non-vinyl program.

Side two is concerned with world events and social commentary, but at least it’s comparatively shorter. “Ride Across The River” uses keyboards to evoke some far-off jungle, with that ubiquitous flute effect and, of course, crickets, but distinctly mariachi trumpets. “The Man’s Too Strong” is predominantly acoustic-based, and that’s intriguing enough, but “One World” kills the mood with its dopey arrangement and dopier words (or lack thereof). Of the four songs on the side, the title track is by far the strongest and most eloquent statement, but still a pretty depressing way to finish it off.

Brothers In Arms was an unlikely candidate for the arena-rock champion of the year, and we’re still not sure how it happened. It has not aged well—mostly because of the DX7 synth effects everywhere and canned drums—and the hits tend to get lumped in with the usual “hey, remember the ‘80s?” suspects. It’s really too bad, considering how above-average Dire Straits used to be, and so recently in hindsight. They were never the same again.

Appendix: The album also fits into our flimsy theory of The First Four, in which a band’s initial four albums follow this pattern:
1) the striking debut, catching all the attention and putting the pressure on;
2) the forced follow-up, usually written on the fly and criticized as a retread;
3) the make-or-break statement of purpose, which takes them into the stratosphere;
4) “we’ve been to the mountaintop, and this is what we saw there”
And after that, the fifth album can confound or please the listener. It’s not a perfect system, but possible demonstrations include R.E.M, U2, Coldplay, Bruce Springsteen, Led Zeppelin and Toad The Wet Sprocket. (One day we’ll have it all worked out.)

Dire Straits Brothers In Arms (1985)—2½