Headpins - Line of Fire

Headpins were a blip on the musical landscape in the early '80s. They started as a huge blip, then a big blip, and then a blip, and then they were gone. Like all bands, there's always a story within the story, and it changes depending on who gets to narrate. I can't speak to any of that, so I won't.

It's a bit weird to sit here behind a keyboard plonking away with nothing more than an opinion and memories, trying to describe what the album meant to me back in the day and the impact it had over the years. Spoiler: Headpins were never among my favourite bands, but they had more than enough stellar moments to be part of the conversation. They were just never at the table. So the impact was negligible. Awareness, though, that's something else entirely. I knew who they were.

This is a horrible way to start, as it's definitely getting off on the wrong foot. I can recover from this, don't worry. I do this to myself all the time. I just pretend I missed a turn and wait for my brain to recalculate the route to where I want to go. Here, let me help by writing out the destination. Then we can take the journey together.

Line of Fire by Headpins: an album that hit more than it missed but felt like more of the same.

Yeah, that's what I'm going with. You may be asking, "Then why keep going if you know how this is going to end?" To be a touch pedantic, because we aren't there yet, and getting there is half the fun. I'm not sure what the other half is, but that's another story.

I liked a lot of the songs I heard on the radio, but it was a good-in-small-doses thing. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing, and listening to this now ticks a lot of boxes.

• Big guitars - check
• Killer vocals - check
• Catchy songs - check
• More guitars - check

While this is way better than I remember, there's a certain amount of ear fatigue after listening to it repeatedly. The key here is less is more, and in small bites this is awesome.

So with all that, let's take a trip back to the summer of 1983, and Headpins are riding high. Their debut had sold over 200,000 copies in Canada. It's actually kind of astounding, and the pressure to deliver a killer follow-up must have been huge within the band.

Frankly, they did deliver. Line of Fire was in many ways a better album than the debut. The band seemed to know where it was going, and the songs were a balance of pop elegance with Brian's blistering guitars and Darby's searing vocals. Ab Bryant and Bernie Aubin were there too, holding down the rhythm section. The songs were tight, the album was a cohesive collection of hard rock goodness, anchored with melody and swagger, and they sounded like Headpins - they didn't sound like anyone else.

Did I mention there were some really good songs here?

I had just moved to the suburbs of Vancouver in the summer of '83, and Headpins were local rock royalty. Brian MacLeod was larger than life and was the band's yin to Darby's yang. I can't rightly remember if it was a radio special or just an interview, but I'm guessing it was a spot to talk about the new album, Line of Fire. I don't know if Darby was there too. She probably was, but who knows. Let's say she was.

I do know that it was July, shortly after Def Leppard had played the Pacific Coliseum, and Brian was on CFOX mentioning that he had gone to see the kids to see if they could pull off what was on Pyromania (an album that would eventually sell over 12,000,000 copies worldwide). Even then that struck me as odd - here was the big fish in the small pond wondering if the little kids in the big pond could actually deliver.

They talked about the new album, in particular the opening track, "Mine, All Mine," which leaned into the devil-horns side of rock and roll. According to Brian, it was inspired by the religious nutty buddies who were burning records they thought were evil. On the pile he saw a copy of Turn It Loud. He couldn't understand how they were evil, but if they were going to burn them, he would at least give them something to work with.

"Mine All Mine" opens with "Six Sixty Six is my number..." From there it just goes downhill.

For those of us who were there, the early '80s were Ozzy's domain, and it seemed like everyone wanted in on the action, from Mötley Crüe to Dio. I know that Brian was taking the piss, but the song always sat sideways in my ears. I guess I'm a prude deep down.

It was a small misstep, and the record recovered almost immediately with "Feel It (Feel My Body)," which was all groove and swagger with Brian's guitar front and centre. The staccato pick trills were one of Brian's tricks that, while cool, wore thin pretty quickly when they showed up again on "Just One More Time," which is arguably one of the best songs the band ever pulled off.

I've always loved Brian's tone and playing, and that dude could play, but he had a few signature tricks that he liked to come back to. He didn't really need them. He was a great player.

There was always at least one song where Brian would get to show off his pinky volume swells. The debut album had the killer "Breakin' Down." On Line of Fire, it's "Don't Stand in the Line of Fire," with the head-banging groove and great riffs.

It may sound like I'm dissing the song. I'm not. Brian had his tropes and would sometimes repeat himself, maybe going one too many times to the well, but dagnabbit, this is a great song.

Line of Fire only had eight songs, and there were three really great songs that balanced hard rock with pop sensibilities: "Feel It (Feel My Body)," "Just One More Time," and "Celebration." These were the songs that felt accessible to me, and the first two were rightly released as singles.

The third single pulled from the album, "Don't Stand in the Line of Fire," was an odd choice. It's a mid-tempo song that is a great album cut, but not a single. Meat Loaf was right, "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad."

Line of Fire was a hit and, from what I've read, moved around 150,000 copies in Canada. Those are big numbers, and yes, it was another platinum record - not an easy feat. But compared to their debut, it under-performed.

I always liked Headpins, and especially Brian's guitar playing. Yes, I know I took a couple of cheap shots about his staccato pick trills and the tricks he returned to - this coming from a guy who ate up Eddie Van Halen's tapping, something he did on just about everything. Brian accomplished what many players are never able to do: he had a signature sound. When you heard Brian's tone, you knew who it was. That in and of itself is a really big deal.

But having a signature sound was also part of the issue I had with the band. There was a sameness to the Headpins sound. While having a distinct sound is a plus, sounding the same from song to song can be a bit tiring.

The best example of this was the closing track, the aptly titled "I've Heard It All Before," which is a really fun song. It features the volume swells and pick trills mixed in with Brian's blisteringly tasty playing - but it was done earlier on the same record. Does it make it any less good? No, but when you hear them one after the other, it gets mushed together. It diminishes the impact.

I guess this is why I seem to waffle all over when trying to describe Line of Fire. Back in the day, I liked Headpins, but didn't love them. They had some cool songs, and I liked what I heard on the radio. There was always a song or two that stood out from their albums, and that was enough to keep me interested until the next shiny thing caught my attention.

At the time they seemed like they were around forever, but the reality is that their run was incredibly short.

Three blips and then they were gone.