Happy 25th Anniversary to Robbie Williams’ second studio album I’ve Been Expecting You, originally released October 26, 1998.
Sweet release. Bright, dazzling lights. The precious hereafter. A figure, looming.
A voice, at once sweet yet stern:
“Any baggage you may have must be declared before you enter. Your god waits beyond with unending life, but your soul must be free from its burden. Emotional, cultural or psychological baggage must be jettisoned to bathe in the eternal sunlight of these joyous uplands. Free yourselves of all guilt, shame and desire.”
Nothing to declare here. No sirree. Green lane all the way for me.
“Excuse me sir, but you seem to be heading towards the ‘nothing to declare’ aisle.”
“Yes, of course. Any emotional baggage is long gone. Once the decrepitude set in, it seemed pointless to hold onto any of that. I am as free as a bird.”
“But yet our records show . . . “
“Records? What records?”
“If I may be so bold as to inquire as to where you spent your formative years sir? Who educated you?”
“Product of a Catholic education, me.”
“Then you’ll remember the notion of an all-knowing, all-seeing god. Won’t you sir?”
A shiver of anguish.
“You mean…everything?”
“Oh yes sir. Everything.”
“Oh crap.”
“Of course there are some things that we make allowances for. The tumultuous teenage years do strange things to many people sir.”
“So you know about the night I threw up in someone else’s shoes and left the house the next morning without telling them?”
“How can I put this, sir? Absolutely. Yes we do.”
“Well . . .”
“And the thing with the peanut butter . . .”
“Ok, I get the point.”
“So with that in mind sir, may I make a couple of inquiries?”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Well they don’t call it the day of reckoning for no reason, do they sir?”
“Shall we discuss your purchase of Carmen Electra’s album, sir?”
“Oh shit.”
“I’d save that exclamation for the big stuff if I were you, sir.”
“In my defense . . .”
“Yes, I’m well aware that Prince wrote and produced it. We discussed it prior to your arrival here.”
“He’s here?! Can I meet him?!”
“That is, if I may say, a tad presumptuous, sir. We’ve still some ground to cover yet before you make it to that place.”
“Ok. I’ll concede her appearance did impact on my decision to buy it.”
“You don’t say, sir.”
“There’s no need to get snippy!”
“Oh sir, this is so far removed from snippy. Snippy comes later.”
Gulp.
Watch the Official Videos:
“We’d like to move along to your relationship with Robbie Williams.”
“I don’t . . .”
“Come now sir. OM-NI-SCIENT.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Shall we start with you visiting his childhood house?”
“Well, the girl I was with at the time was a massive fan . . .”
“Sir our records make no mention of a gun anywhere.”
“Of course they don’t. She was a normal, sane person.”
“Well then how did she force you to visit said abode in Stoke On Trent? Was it the old faithful arm twisted up the back? A withholding of certain, shall we say, pleasures?”
“No, not exactly . . .”
“Well then why does the girl always get the blame?”
“I . . .”
“You went willingly.”
“I did.”
“Shall we call that a breakthrough, sir?”
“You’re not making this easy, are you?”
“That’s not my job sir. But I think you know that. Shall we move on to his albums next?”
“There was only ever one on my CD shelves and that was . . .”
“Let me guess, sir. It was your wife’s?”
“Yes, yes it was!”
“So much for a breakthrough. But you were quite familiar with I’ve Been Expecting You?”
“I was, yes. I bet you preferred the one before that though, right?!”
“Is this how low we’ve stooped, sir? Already?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You imagine this the time and place for an awful joke about “Angels” sir?”
“I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”
“You should be sir, you should be.”
Double gulp.
“So tell me about it then, sir.”
“Well you couldn’t really avoid it, to be honest. He was everywhere on British TV and radio in 1998. “Angels” from Life Thru a Lens had saved him from post-Take That oblivion and this one firmly cemented him as a solo star . . .”
“You’re not really ‘getting this’ are you sir?”
“What do you mean? I’m answering your question, aren’t I?”
“Now who’s snippy? No sir, you don’t really understand why we’re here.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“Finally! That Catholic education wasn’t all wasted now, was it? Sir, the whole point here is to stop making excuses for why you like things and just throw any shame you have to one side. Own your decisions, sir.”
“OK. It’s a great album. A zeitgeist-capturing look at pre-millennial cultural life.”
“Let’s not over-egg the pudding, shall we, sir? It’s no Songs In The Key Of Life is it, now? Let’s try again without the flippant attitude.”
“Alright, alright. It’s ok. Decent.”
“Expand a little, if you will, sir.”
“Well ‘Strong’ is a good track if you discount his annoyingly self-referential lyrics. ‘Millennium’ is unavoidably good as a pop floor filler and his cover of Kurt Wallinger’s ‘She’s The One’ is as beautiful as it should be.”
“Go on sir, go on.”
“The best bits are when he’s pissed though. ‘Karma Killer’ is a brutal beast of a song aimed at his ex-manager that revels in the fact his career didn’t stall and was flourishing at that moment. But his greatest moment is ‘No Regrets.’ It’s not even the presence of Neil Hannon and Neil Tennant on backing vocals that does it either. It’s bleak and depressing and ends with the abruptly snipped line: ‘I guess the love we once had is officially dead.’”
“Apt, wouldn’t you say, sir? And the rest?”
“Well some of it’s ok. ‘Grace’ desperately wants to be The Cardigans but is pleasant enough and ‘It’s Only Us’ wants to be Supergrass but, you know, they’re decent.”
“Well, if we don’t seem to be getting somewhere after all, sir!”
“Can I be momentarily nasty?”
“Be honest sir. It’s all we ask.”
“’Win Some Lose Some’ and ‘Phoenix From The Flames’ are terrible. I mean really bad.”
“As bad as the Carmen Electra album sir?”
“Good point, well made. Duly noted.”
“Thank you, sir. I aim to please. So we’re almost done here, I think. Is there anything else you want to say?”
“Well only to say that most of the credit should go to Guy Chambers for writing it . . .”
“Oh, sir. Oh, you were doing so well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well you’re trying to own up to quite liking a Robbie Williams album without acknowledging his part in it. You’re still ashamed. You have learnt nothing. I will have to ask my manager for his input.”
“Now then, there’s no need for the big fella.”
“Fella? And you still cling to this dated notion that god is a man? She will not be happy with you.”
“OK!! OK. I’ll admit it. Ok. I quite like I’ve Been Expecting You and Robbie Williams is at least part of that. But fuck you Williams, with your gurning face and proclivity for throwaway, dated lyrics. FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME GO THROUGH THIS!”
“Was that so difficult, sir? I mean, really? There is no shame in liking anything, sir. Not unless it is that terrible Justin Timberlake album about woods or whatever it was. That is a straight-to-hell choice right there, let me tell you. She does not like that at all.”
“Can I go now? Please.”
“There’s just one more thing sir, if I may. How do you feel about Steps sir?”
Tears. Who knew a dead man could cry.
“It…was…my…wife’s…CD.”
“I know, sir. Just checking!”
“ . . .”
“Who said God doesn’t have a sense of humor? Be on your way, sir, and please try not to approach Mr. Williams about his gurning, grimacing facial schtick. We know it’s annoying, but we quite like him up here.”
LISTEN:
Editor's note: this anniversary tribute was originally published in 2018 and has since been edited for accuracy and timeliness.