A Brooding, Unflinching Look at a Disillusioned World, a Somber Acknowledgment of Shared Madness in a Broken Society.
In the early 1970s, David Essex was a supernova of youthful charisma and musical talent, a genuine pop idol who effortlessly straddled the worlds of stage, screen, and radio. With his chiseled good looks and a voice that was both soulful and hypnotic, he captured the hearts of a generation. His 1973 debut album, the landmark Rock On, was a masterpiece of atmospheric, mood-driven rock and roll, instantly propelling him into the stratosphere. While the album’s iconic title track became a global sensation, its success was built upon a foundation of risk and artistic depth. Tucked away on the B-side, a brooding and far more cynical piece was waiting to be discovered by those who truly listened. That song was “We All Insane.” It was not a single, nor did it ever chart on its own; it was a deeply personal, haunting album cut that served as a raw, emotional counterpoint to the album’s pop sensibilities.
The story behind “We All Insane” isn’t about chart success, but rather about the soul of an artist daring to be more than just a pop star. The album Rock On was a massive commercial triumph, reaching number seven on the UK Albums Chart and earning a silver certification. Its title track, produced by the legendary Jeff Wayne, was a global phenomenon, reaching number 3 in the UK and number 5 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the U.S. This widespread success gave Essex and Wayne the creative freedom to explore more unconventional, darker themes on the album, and “We All Insane” is a chilling example of that. The song’s lack of chart position is a testament to its raw, artistic intent; it was a piece of the puzzle, a crucial part of the album’s emotional landscape that stood in stark contrast to the hit single.
The drama of “We All Insane” lies in its unflinching gaze at the social and psychological fractures of its time. The lyrics paint a bleak picture of a world gone mad, where the lines between sanity and insanity have blurred. It’s a somber, self-aware admission that everyone, including the narrator, is part of the problem. Lines like “We’re all insane” are not just a statement, but a heavy, almost desperate sigh of resignation. The song’s narrative is a reflection on a society in turmoil, grappling with political uncertainty, social unrest, and a general sense of unease. It’s the sound of an artist looking past the glitter and glamour of his own celebrity to acknowledge the collective pain and confusion of the world around him. The emotional weight of the song is carried by Essex’s deeply expressive vocal, which oscillates between a gentle, resigned melancholy and a haunting whisper, as if he is confiding a terrible truth.
For those of us who remember the era, this song is a powerful, almost unsettling trip back in time. It’s a reminder that even in an age of glam and excess, there was a profound undercurrent of anxiety and cynicism. The song’s production, driven by a simple, cyclical piano melody and a mournful saxophone, creates an atmosphere of quiet despair that is both intimate and universal. It’s a song that doesn’t just entertain; it resonates with the unspoken fears that many of us carried with us. “We All Insane” remains a beautifully sad piece of music, a necessary counterpoint to the relentless optimism of so much 1970s pop. It is a quiet masterpiece that deserves to be remembered not for its chart success, but for the compassionate and honest light it shined on the shared human experience of feeling lost in a world that seems to be falling apart.