Today, I am reflecting on Tim Curry, with his passing on 25th August, 2026.
The album I will be listening to is from 1976, …from the vaults.
⭐ Overall Takeaway
The album feels like Tim Curry before the spotlight fully hardened around him — exploratory, mischievous, and unvarnished. These unmixed versions have a grain, a room‑tone, a sense of process that makes the whole thing feel like a backstage pass to 1976.
🔹 1. Just Fourteen
A strange, tender, slightly dangerous little number. Curry leans into his talent for narrative mischief, delivering a vocal that’s half‑croon, half‑wink. The unmixed quality gives it a smoky, rehearsal‑room intimacy — you can almost hear the musicians watching him, waiting for the next twist.
This track shows the embryonic form of the theatrical persona he’d later sharpen in Fearless and Simplicity.
A tribute to the moment an actor discovers he can be a storyteller in song.
🔹 2. Cold Cold World
Here Curry goes full lonely‑bar‑philosopher, with a vocal that feels worn at the edges. The instrumentation is sparse, almost brittle, which lets his voice carry the emotional weight.
There’s a proto‑new‑wave chill here — a sense of alienation that predates the icy synth aesthetics of the early ’80s.
A tribute to the way Curry could make melancholy feel glamorous.
🔹 3. We Went As Far As We Felt Like Going
This is Curry in rambling raconteur mode — a road‑movie vignette disguised as a pop track. The unmixed version gives it a loose, almost jam‑session feel, like the band is discovering the song as they play it.
It’s playful, wandering, and full of character.
A tribute to Curry’s ability to turn a simple lyric into a cinematic moment.
🔹 4. Spaceship Races
A delightful oddity — Curry embracing the whimsical, cosmic side of ’70s pop. There’s a childlike wonder in the melody, but he grounds it with a sly, knowing vocal.
This track feels like a precursor to the surreal humour he’d later bring to his more flamboyant roles.
A tribute to the way he could make even a space‑race sound like theatre.
🔹 5. Girls
A swaggering, tongue‑in‑cheek rocker. Curry leans into his cabaret‑punk energy here — playful, exaggerated, knowingly performative.
The unmixed quality gives it grit, which actually suits the song better than a polished studio sheen would.
A tribute to Curry’s ability to parody desire while still sounding irresistibly charismatic.
🔹 6. Meet Mr. Blue
A standout. Curry slips into a noir‑ish persona, half‑detective, half‑fallen angel. The track has a smoky, late‑night feel — the kind of song you’d hear in a bar where the neon flickers.
This is Curry’s theatricality at its most controlled and elegant.
A tribute to his gift for character‑driven singing.
🔹 7. Biting My Nails
Sharp, nervy, and jittery — almost proto‑punk in its energy. Curry’s vocal is clipped and anxious, perfectly matching the theme.
This track shows how comfortable he was with emotional extremes, even in early sessions.
A tribute to the restless, electric side of his artistry.
🔹 8. Baby Love
A warm, slightly off‑kilter love song. Curry avoids sentimentality and instead gives us something more human — affectionate, imperfect, and charmingly theatrical.
The unmixed version lets his voice sit closer to the listener, almost conversational.
A tribute to Curry’s ability to make sincerity feel stylish.
🔹 9. White Cadillac
The closer — and it feels like one. A dusty‑highway track with swagger and a hint of danger. Curry’s vocal is confident, relaxed, and full of character.
It’s the kind of song that makes you imagine him leaning against the hood of the titular Cadillac, cigarette in hand, telling a story he hasn’t quite decided how to end.
A tribute to the cinematic Tim Curry, the storyteller, the wanderer.
🎖️ Final Tribute
…from the Vaults isn’t just an archival curiosity — it’s a glimpse of Tim Curry before the world fully understood what he was capable of. These tracks show the raw clay of his artistry: theatrical, mischievous, melancholy, cosmic, noir‑ish, and always unmistakably him.
Ramblings Music 