The phrase “left to one’s own devices” entered routine English usage around 1300, by way of the Old French “à mon, ton, etc. devis”.
Device in this sense means “will, pleasure, inclination, fancy, desire” — one’s devices are little more than intuitive whims in absence of council, which guide us through our daily lives. The lyrics to Pet Shop Boys’ ‘Left To My Own Devices’ — the opening track on their third LP, Introspective, released thirty years ago in October — ostensibly gesture toward the potential gravity of such capricious decision-making: “I could leave you, say goodbye / or I could love you, if I try.”
In this song, “device” also encourages other interpretations, which imply intimacy and ambivalence at the hands of the contemporary technologies on offer in 1988: communications devices like mobile phones and satellite television; digital musical instrument devices such as synthesizers and sequencers; consumer electronic devices like CD players and Walkmans; networked devices like modems and faxes; even sexual devices that might render a partner unnecessary. All of these devices, which make modern life more seamless and convenient, bring us closer and isolate us at once, supplanting personal contact for user interfaces, speakers, and screens.
Introspective’s iconic color-bar cover image suggests a screen, too — a blank one — the ubiquity and immanence of ambient media. At first glance, it’s a test pattern, but weird, stylized, minimal, and almost electronic looking in its visual coincidence of gold, complimentary red and green, and an array of shocking pinks. The artwork also represents the album’s structure — six monolithic, extended dance tracks rather than a dozen or so shorter singles, which was a bold break from 1980s pop music convention that made the record more conducive to nightclub DJs and home listeners than casual radio airplay.
Nevertheless, an edited version of Pet Shop Boys’ Acid House rendition of Johnny Christopher, Mark James, and Wayne Carson’s ‘Always On My Mind’, perhaps best recognized as a sentimental country ballad sung by Willie Nelson in 1982, was the world’s third-highest charting single six years later. The 12-inch mix that also appears on the album contains an unexpected middle section called ‘In My House’, a minor-key detour featuring additional lyrics that relate to the original: “I worked so hard, I thought you knew / my love I did it all for you / I never really had the time / I guess you couldn’t read my mind.”
These phrases are subtly manipulated up and down in pitch, a technological trick that calls attention to the artificiality and malleability of media forms. Long before Auto-Tune, Pet Shop Boys’ manipulation of vocality effectively queered the refrain, entreating a subversive politics of frequency: these variations in tone and timbre rendered singer and muse more ambiguous, and also upended the song’s presumed hetero-normative orientation. When Willie Nelson sings ‘Always On My Mind’, we can be fairly certain that it is a man addressing a female lover; with Pet Shop Boys’ version, those positions and dynamics are no longer clear.
I was raised on country music, particularly the 1970s outlaw artists like Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, and especially Willie Nelson. The kinds of love songs these men sang were unimpeachably seminal and virile at the time, and it was exciting for those assumptions to be overturned by a British disco duo. Pet Shop Boys embodied a sense of masculine sensitivity, a Jungian world of ideas and concepts rather than things and people, an introverted character and temperament that I identified with. I was also at a difficult age, similarly wanting for strength and joy. And suddenly, here was music that appeared to speak directly to me.
What likewise appealed immediately about Introspective was its wholly state-of-the-art aesthetic. Music made with computers and samplers seemed so radical and futuristic, optimistic about the blurring of boundaries between techno and human agency — the relentless pursuit of mechanical and digital perfection. What electronic music’s critics now pejoratively identify as the rigid and angular sound of quantized MIDI sequencing was then considered its most desirable quality: drum machines and computers didn’t miss notes, they don’t lose their tempo or flub a chorus; they perform precisely, the same way, time after time.
The first time I heard Introspective was in a high-end hi-fi shop that my parents used to take me to, in a suburban strip mall before going to the movies. I loved gawking at all those sleek stereos — Bang and Olufsens looked straight out of science fiction — and listening to CDs, which were still new to my ear, and still signaled magic in their complete elimination of the surface noise that accompanied analogue recordings. On top of the digital perfection of Pet Shop Boys’ musical programming, there was additionally the digital perfection of the compact disc, and the unbroken chain of digitality — from recording, to mixing and mastering, to distribution format.
CDs almost struck me as divine, of alien origin, and worthy of worship. I loved Introspective not only because of the music, and the interior realms that it conjured, but also because it was on CD, because of all the devices that it implicated, and how wonderfully technologically advanced it all was. These things made the future seem like a shining place to be facing, not the cynical, caustic, dispassionate, algorithmically regulated digital dystopia that subsequently ensued. Digitality — its permanence and infinite replicability — somehow made the otherwise vulnerable Pet Shop Boys exude invincibility, in a world of their own.
In 2018, there is no lonelier a spectacle than a train car-full of people hurtling from non-place to non-place, from station to station, all staring down in silence, engrossed in their own devices. But 1988 was a high note, culturally speaking, for a pervasive belief, in the west at least, that technology and mass media could genuinely improve people’s lives, and that those improvements were inevitable. Introspective is a document of that confidence, a testament to music technology’s timeless wavelengths, and a clear-eyed articulation of the sincere hope that things were going to be alright.
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See our latest Pet Shop Boys items in stock below (updates automatically when new stock is added)
- Pet Shop Boys - Actually - UK - vinyl LP - £15.00, $18.75, €16.80 (New Item) (arrived 08-Oct-2020 07:41)
PET SHOP BOYS Actually (1987 UK 10-track vinyl LP, including the huge hits What Have I Done To Deserve This?, It's A Sin, Heart and Rent, complete with illustrated credits inner, picture sleeve. The sleeve shows minimal shelfwear and the vinyl remains near 'as new' with few signs of play PCSD104)
- Pet Shop Boys - Wow 1! Sampler CD - UK - CD album - Promo - £9.99, $12.49, €11.19 (New Item) (arrived 08-Sep-2020 12:13)
PET SHOP BOYS / BLUR / VARIOUS ARTISTS Wow 1! (1993 UK EMI label 16-track promotional only compilation CD including PSB's 'Can You Forgive Her', Blur's 'Chemical World' plus tracks by Tina Turner, Billy Idol, Deborah Harry, Coverdale Page, Roxette and more. The disc has just light signs of play and comes housed in the custom printed card wallet picture sleeve CDWOW01)
- Pet Shop Boys - Dance On The Snow - Go West - Japanese - handbill - Promo - £10.00, $12.50, €11.20 (New Item) (arrived 06-Aug-2020 15:44)
PET SHOP BOYS Dance On The Snow - Go West (Genuine 1993 Japanese Toshiba EMI promotional only 12-page CD sized booklet promoting Go West and the new single I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind of Thing coupled with the FIS World Cup Skiing Championship 1993/1994. Five pages of the booklet promote the album back catalogue of CD albums and Laserdiscs, the latter half showcases the Japanese World Cup skiiers! Unusual and genuine, a must for the completist)
- Pet Shop Boys - Where The Streets Have No Name - UK - 7" vinyl - £6.99, $8.74, €7.83 (New Item) (arrived 11-Aug-2020 11:55)
PET SHOP BOYS Where The Streets Have No Name (1991 UK injection moulded 7" vinyl single featuring their version of the U2 classic, also includes How Can You Expect To Be Taken Seriously?. Both the glossy picture sleeve and vinyl remain in excellent condition with just light signs of play R6285)
- Pet Shop Boys - You Only Tell Me - Test Pressing - Double + PR - UK - 12" vinyl - Promo - £35.00, $43.75, €39.20 (Back In Stock) (arrived 19-Aug-2020 15:30)
PET SHOP BOYS You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk (Rare 1999 UK 4-track white label vinyl 12" test pressing for the promotional double pack, featuring mixes by Brother Brown, Attabox and T-Total, plain labels and die-cut card sleeve with a one page press release. The vinyl remains excellent with only light signs of play 12RDJD6533)
- Pet Shop Boys - You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk - CD1 - UK - CD single - £6.99, $8.74, €7.83 (New Item) (arrived 24-Aug-2020 09:28)
PET SHOP BOYS You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk (2000 UK 4-track enhanced CD single, also including Lies, Sail Away plus the CD-Rom Video. The disc comes issued in the hype-stickered slimline picture sleeve CDRS6533)
- Pet Shop Boys - Minimal - UK - DVD Single - £9.99, $12.49, €11.19 (New Item) (arrived 24-Aug-2020 09:33)
PET SHOP BOYS Minimal (2006 UK 4-track DVD single including the Telex Hell Mix, Blue On Blue [written & recorded in 2003], No Time For Tears' [Unreleased 7" Mix] plus the Don Cameron directed video which was shot in Paris. The super jewel case remains hype-stickered and the Mini-Max disc is UNPLAYED! DVDR6708)
- Pet Shop Boys - Introspective - UK - vinyl LP - £10.00, $12.50, €11.20 (New Item) (arrived 01-Sep-2020 12:14)
PET SHOP BOYS Introspective (1988 UK 6-track vinyl LP including Left To My Own Devices & Always On My Mind. The picture sleeve shows just light shelfwear with a few light surface marks evident and the illustrated inner has a little foxing but is free of any major splits and the vinyl shows some faint cosmetic paper scuffs to reveal light use PCS7325)