Dire Straits 8: On Every Street

Having conquered the world’s stadiums and arenas, Mark Knopfler put Dire Straits out to pasture for six years while he worked on soundtracks and vanity projects. The echo of these endeavors would eventually add new color to a bona fide Dire Straits album that finally appeared in 1991, when we least expected it.

On Every Street strives to tame the big sound of Brothers In Arms, but updated for the new decade. The most obvious addition is Paul Franklin on steel guitar, brought forth from the Notting Hillbillies album; contemporary country is very much part of this album’s sound. Toto’s Jeff Porcaro handles most of the drums, a year away from dying in a bizarre gardening incident. But John Illsley is still around, as are Alan Clark and Guy Fletcher, so it’s still a Dire Straits album.

In a few cases, Knopfler’s lyrical skills seem to have returned, but having had such success with the likes of “Money For Nothing”, he’s content to limit the scope to catchphrases and thin jokes. Hence “Calling Elvis”, which parrots various Presley song titles, tackling televangelism in “Ticket To Heaven”, the ode to indulgence in “Heavy Fuel”, and “My Parties”, an obnoxious spoof of a supposedly typical super-rich guy oblivious to world issues.

Sometimes the music works: the title track is fairly subdued before a wonderful guitar coda takes over for the big finish—exactly what we want. And even some of the more overtly country numbers, like “The Bug” and “When It Comes To You”, would go on to become hits for other people. But for the most part, such as on “Fade To Black” and “Planet Of New Orleans”, the sound is very adult contemporary, not even approaching rock. “You And Your Friend” and “Iron Hand” have lots of tasty guitar, but they’re supported by thick synth beds that sound alike and occasionally date them. That was fine for those who came on board in 1985, but disappointing for us fans of the first four. Once “How Long” provides the conclusion, it’s been a very long hour, and not one we necessarily want to sit through again.

We can probably blame the CD era for the length of the album, as we miss the economy of Making Movies and even Love Over Gold, which justified lengthy tracks with quality. It’s not as easy to whittle down On Every Street to a more solid two-sided album; what’s more, the two exclusive B-sides weren’t any better or worse than what was included. “Millionaire Blues” is a lyrical cousin to “My Parties”, and “Kingdom Come” is a parody of a gun nut set to music that might as well be “The Bug”. Altogether, this album is a template for Mark Knopfler’s solo career, which would be heavy on Guy Fletcher, but devoid of John Illsley.

Dire Straits On Every Street (1991)—2½