But it was damned by having its signature single explode out of context. In large part it was hushed and melancholy, a sigh rather than a roar.
It wasn’t even as if he had contrived to make a blockbuster. Konpfler drove Dire Straits on, expanding their boundaries right up to the point Brothers In Arms became too all-consuming to contain. He wrote terrific songs, too: taut mini-dramas of dark depths and dazzling melodic and lyrical flourishes. He was peerless as craftsman and virtuoso, able to plug into rock’s classic lineage and bend it to sometimes wild forms. The bare-boned economy of Knopfler’s songs and his dizzying guitar fills were a breath of clean air amid the lumbering rock dinosaurs and one-dimensional punk thrashers of the late 70s.
What was forgotten in the wake of its stellar success was just how striking and sometimes radical Dire Straits had seemed from their inception.
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