It’s the final song on this album that most people will know, and while it’s a piece of brilliance, we should start from the beginning.
The beginning of this album is storytelling. Each song is a vignette, almost a film script contained within four minutes or so of post-punk pop songs. Stanard Ridgway, as he was before he shortened his name for pop stardom, was already well known on the scene thanks to his previous band, Wall of Voodoo. Exhibiting a more synth-led sound, they had Stanard’s idiosyncratic voice and songwriting skills in common.
However, it was to be The Big Heat that ignited my fascination with Ridgway and his ability to conjure up an entire world within a song, complete with narrative, back story, and supporting cast. You get the feeling each song could win every Oscar going despite not being a film.
Whether the noir feel of Drive, She Said, or the Depeche Mode-esque Pick It Up (And Put It In Your Pocket), or the singalong melody of Camouflage, each song has depth that pop songs rarely had, or have. Ridgway brought several of his musical influences into the songs. It makes the album feel out of its time, yet nails its 1980’s colours to the mast at the same time.
Yet, the final song, Camouflage, a song about a soldier caught without a working gun in the jungles of Vietnam who is rescued by a man-mountain who can seemingly dodge bullets, is what takes all the ideas of every other song and pulls it into something special.
That man-mountain, the eponymous Camouflage of the song’s title, who you can picture as flesh and blood (perhaps mixed with Stallone’s Rambo in my head), saving the day even while he lies dead in a tent back at the army camp. It’s got a sing-along chorus, anthemic yet intricate, with a narrative arc that could have been written by Vonnegut. It runs for over seven minutes but never feels laboured or repetitive. It’s the perfect bookend for everything that comes before it, almost as if Ridgway perfected his performative songwriting just for this final hurrah.
It’s absolutely faultless, this album. It’s not shiny, throwaway stuff, this album. It warrants deeper consideration, like all Unspun Heroes. Even though many people I mention it to consider it to be gimmicky and full of novelty. Yet, great pop songs transcend novelty and The Big Heat is chock full of pop sensibility. It’s heinous that it’s not been reissued on vinyl since its original release in 1986.
Settle back, press play and enjoy an album that deserves wider attention.

