"Well he's speaking in riddles, he's speaking in tongues, whilst he plays through a fuzz-box to an audience of one."
Following the rapid demise of his influential Scottish Post-Punk band Orange Juice, Edwyn Collins struggled mightily, as he became something of an outcast garnering no record label interest due to his prevailing (and fairly accurate) reputation for being difficult to work with and having little or no inclination to chase commercial success. Despite a brief stay at a subsidiary of Creation Records, which produced two forgettable singles, Collins' real chance to launch his solo career only came with the help of Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera and some fans of Orange Juice who ran a small studio; the resulting LP, Hope and Despair, while not the masterpiece many believed Collins had in him, is a worthy, if not understated, successor to Collins' legendary earlier work. What becomes immediately clear while listening to Collins' solo debut is that his penchant for exploring the dark side of love is still very much intact; in other words, in terms of lyrical themes, there is more despair on tap than hope (something that was never a natural fit for Collins' brand of clever pessimism). What is also intact is Collins' unique (and sometimes quirky) song-writing ability as evidenced by "50 Shades of Blue," which contains one of the more upbeat arrangements on the album, though lyrically, it is full of Collins' trademark dourness. Backing his unsteady croon with flanged guitars (with help from Frame) and a cheesy Casio melody, in a different universe, the song might have given Collins a taste of the chart success that would continue to elude him until "A Girl Like You" five years later. Perhaps the album's best moment, "Ghost of a Chance," is one quite reminiscent of later-period Orange Juice, as Collins dresses the song in the raiment of sixties-era Soul and delivers one of the album's best vocal performances. Hope and Despair was ultimately a successful venture for Collins, becoming, at the time, Demon Records' best-selling release; however, after Collins' follow-up, the decidedly less impressive Hellbent on Compromise, he was dropped from the label and wallowed in obscurity until his biggest brush with commercial success arrived four years later.