Pale Green Ghosts

In Andy McCluskey's contribution to the BBC programme Synth-Britannia there's a section when he muses on the much-celebrated (at the time) return of guitar bands in the early 90s. He's not happy. McCluskey, as co-founder of OMD with Paul Humphreys, was part of a generation of musicians who combined the experimentalism of 70s electronic pioneers like Kraftwerk with art school pretensions and an ear for a pop tune. Along with the Human League, Ultravox and (yes) Gary Numan they had fought against an assumption that synthesisers were cold, emotionless, somehow anti-music. Chart success eventually blunted those attacks but the return of 'real' bands playing 'real' music suggested a battle had been won rather than the war.

I love OMD. Did you know they were indirectly responsible for The Smiths? Or at least the naming of The Smiths. Morrissey was no fan of pretentious art-house band names, and fingered OMD as the worst, so determined to take his nomenclature in another, more kitchen-sink direction.

But to me their name sums up all that is good about OMD. They wore their pretensions on their sleeves. They were creating Art and didn't care who knew it. The fact that their Art also came with enough pop hooks to see them established in the nation's top 5 was a happy accident. And if the cynical amongst you have heard that line once too often, consider 'Dazzle Ships': a self-indulgent, avant-garde, conceptual work filled with obscure samples that makes 'Kid A' sound like 'Thriller'. And this to follow 'Architecture and Morality', their breakthrough commercial album.

It's that combination of the avant-garde and the popular that makes OMD such a great band and it's a formula that can also be applied to much of the music I'd take to my desert island. Take Ride. They attack you with extremes: volume, feedback, a hail of guitar noise that is clearly inspired by My Bloody Valentine. But, try as they might, they can't keep the pop out. The early EPs have an almost punk edge and energy; later this is replaced by lyricism and melody. And then, unaccountably, they tried to become the Small Faces, but we'll draw a veil over that.

John Grant grew up with electronic music. For those raising an eyebrow at the electronic leanings of 'Pale Green Ghosts', it's the lush arrangements of 'Queen of Denmark' that will come to be seen as the anomalies. He has come home - via Iceland - to his natural sound.

And although I've never heard Grant name-check OMD - he's more a Cabaret Voltaire/Devo man - this new album stands squarely behind the McCluskey world view. There's no finer example than'It Doesn't Matter to Him' - a heart-rending, timeless melody leading into the most synthesiser-sounding synthesiser you're ever likely to hear, a sound both alien and elemental, expressing emotion far beyond the reach of a gurning guitarist - http://youtu.be/JvM3D4XE9qM