Imperioso

So what defines the imperial phase when you’re in it? They are, I think, short lived: accelerated moments in a career, times where intense scrutiny meets intense opportunity. The Pet Shop Boys’ first 20 singles represent an astonishing run of form— probably my favorite in all pop. They range from lush, sad self-reflection (“Being Boring”) to gay disco showstoppers (“Go West”); from the cryptically evocative (“DJ Culture”) to the blissfully straightforward (“Always on My Mind”)— but the phase as Tennant defines it covers only a quarter of that sequence, the span of five hit singles and the Actually album. And while obviously imperial phases tend to coincide with periods of great success, the band had very big hits before and after. So the idea doesn’t just refer to a commercial or a creative peak, or even both at once. I’d suggest you need three things for an imperial phase: command, permission, and self-definition.

First is the sense of command— of, as Tennant said, “having the secret” of pop. This is something you don’t have to be a pop star to feel— it’s a zone you can get into with any kind of craft or creative or sporting endeavor, the happy sensation of working hard and well and having the things you try resonate with your desired public. So an imperial phase often starts with a breakthrough, game-raising action— a single or video— that demonstrates this command. Blur’s “Girls & Boys” is an example: I remember being floored by its unexpected brashness, this band whose music seemed content to bitch wistfully about what pop used to be like suddenly seizing the agenda.

Tom Ewing, “Imperial”