As you might expect, what makes Have An Idea so effective are a strikingly consistent and satisfying batch of tunes. "When You're Mine," "Remember Me," and "Night Shift," are all deftly honed salvos of guitar pop manna from the heavens, emanating romantic sentiments without any syrupy aftertaste. Saucier items like "Sorry," and the particularly biting "Divorcee" mine a Rockpile-ish vein, while the guys get downright Beatlesque within the two and a half minute confines of "Some Other Guy." No shortage of dynamite moments here. Have an Idea wasn't the most stylish or groundbreaking album to see the light of day in 1980, but in the four-decade rear view it strikes me as equal parts classy and classic.
Just a couple more quick observations. A 2010 review of the remastered and expanded version of ...Idea over at Hyperbolium.com indicates the album wasn't remastered from the original master tapes, and thusly isn't as rich of an audio experience. The 2007 reissue on Air Mail Records is the version that I own and am offering here, and even though I'm not acquainted with the original vinyl incarnation, I have to admit that this could benefit from a bass-ier treatment. That being said, it does append four bonus cuts from surrounding singles, and the artwork is faithful to the original jacket. Finally, there's a bootleg cd-r version floating around that includes a patch of live bonus offerings. in 1983 a live Heats record, ostensibly released by the band and titled Burnin' Live, was issued, albeit featuring nothing familiar from Have an Idea.
01. Have An Idea
02. When You're Mine
03. Sorry Girls
04. Nights With You
05. Some Other Guy
06. Remember Me
07. Ordinary Girls
08. I Don't Mind/She Don't Mind
09. Call Yourself a Man
10. Don't Like Your Face
11. Night Shift
12. Divorcee
13. Questions Questions
bonus
14. Let's All Smoke
15. Rivals
16. Count on Me
17. In Your Town
From the standpoint of major labels, say CBS, the trend du jour in the early '80s was relatively staid and formulaic, despite the burgeoning advances being carved out in the realm of new romantic pop. So where did The Heaters slot into the era? Well, they just so managed to nail down a deal for their second album, Energy Transfer, in 1980 with CBS (presently Sony). Though they hardly bore a penchant for anything radical, the album found the Heaters nuclei of Mercy Bermudez, Melissa Connell, and sister Maggie Connell gracefully deviating between contemporary pop-rock and girl group panache, resulting in an inadvertent update from two decades prior. Safe as milk for the Top-40 set, and a reasonable good bet for the suits, the Heaters failed to catch the public's attention in the era of Blondie, the Knack and the Cars. Essentially, Energy Transfer failed to transfer into mega sales on accounting ledgers, quite simply because the Heaters opted to be themselves in an increasingly fickle and superficial world.
Just bought this one on a whim a few weeks ago. Knew nothing about the very photogenic Heaters at the time, but recently learned of the band's newly minted CD, The Great Lost Heaters Album, which you can read up on here. Energy Transfer was the band's second album. Emanating from the L.A. punk/wave scene of the late '70s, The Heaters were displeased with the production of their two records, which according to the band's lengthy account on their website, failed to capture their live fervor and spontaneity (but isn't that always the case for bands of their era, and for that matter, this one)? Led by Mercy Bermudez, the Heaters were about as radical as say, Blondie, but without the flauntiness and embarrassment factor...save maybe for a cover of Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers bubblegum classic, "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" Nevertheless, as evidenced by the brisk "Is This Madness," and the whirling title track, there are moments of spunky exuberance on Energy Transfer that are impossible to resist.
