The third disc in the collection is the sonic equivalent of an attic clear-out: anything contemporaneous from the period around Metamatic that hasn’t already been committed to disc goes here.
There’s a fair number of instrumentals on offer, which often feel like audio notes regarding certain moods or sonic backdrops to be used elsewhere, and in some cases hinting at future ambient works. The disc finishes up with a handful of previously-rare demos made for the original album.
THE MUSIC
The overall quixotic feel of the disc is established almost immediately with the first two tracks. The curtain rises on “A Frozen Moment” — about a minute-and-a-half of beepy-boopy synth effects, a sonic notebook of wayward sounds that would later on find homes. Here, it serves as a scene-setting appetizer for the glorious steak that is track two, “He’s a Liquid (Instrumental Dub Version).”
It’s kind of hard to imagine a John Foxx karaoke event, but here’s your chance to try your hand at it. This version includes more of the echoey whistling of the original that, with the vocals not present, somehow adds a creepier effect to this already cold-wave classic.
“Mr No (Alternative Version”) is a similar but more basic version of the track we hear on Disc 2 of this set. Like some of the additional “Early Versions” we’ll hear later on this disc (and a few of the “Alternative Versions” we heard on the last one), this feels like a demo done on Foxx’s own equipment. That said, it follows the more polished official version that eventually made it as far as being a b-side pretty closely.
We now come to a section of songs not heard on any of the previous Metamatic reissues. These are some leftover sound beds, backgrounds, tone experiments and other bits of recorded emphemera, mostly without rhythm but with a sense of chasing down a set of beautiful and/or evocative synth sounds — a kind of sonic notebook that he thought might come in handy later.
We start with “The Uranium Committee.” The usual low-hum drone runs for a bit, then a cycling higher-hum wipe. This fades slowly out at the two-minute mark. It’s more like a backing sound set in search of a melody.
“A Man Alone,” however is more of a proper instrumental with a melody line, but is still mostly just synth noodling that seems to be an experiment in what sounds blend well together. This is Foxx experimenting with setting a mood before adding the beat that would drive something like this.
R2-D2 and the accompanying dark sci-fi vibe return in the aptly-titled “Terminal Zone.” This in particular would have made for some great soundtrack music in some then-future Doctor Who episode. Likewise, the fragment “Urban Code” is another mood piece of sinister machinery.
The mood lightens considerably with the melodic “A Version of You,” hinting at the romantic overtones that first showed up in the early “Like a Miracle” heard on Disc 2.
Speaking of that previous disc, we get to a proper full (albeit instrumental) song in the “Alternative Version” of “Glimmer.” The “official” version is the better of the two in my view, but both are very similar.
A synth wash drapes around the mostly-untreated piano of “Fragmentary City,” another of Foxx’s solid dreamscape soundtracks.
“Metamorphosis” is mostly some SynthFarts™ but also sounds like an early experiment with what would later become the “metal beat” sound. Listening to experimental tracks like this now, it’s helpful to recall that synths around this time had to be painstakingly hand-tweaked to produce sounds other than the pre-programmed ones.
These little recorded “workshops” are how Foxx arrived at many of the amazing sounds that finally graced the album proper, and drawings in his notebook would suggest that illustrations of the synth settings for easy re-creation were made when he was happy with what he heard.
“Approaching the Monument” is another soundscape, vaguely sound like a motorcycle revving against a backdrop of ambient low noise. It constantly threatens to turn into a further set of sounds, but never does.
The best collection of these synth experiments comes in the form of “Critical Mass,” which captures a number of key sounds — and even has some percussion! — that would later to be used to augment the songs on Metamatic.
This whole section of nerdy noodling will probably not be of interest even to most Foxx fans, but is the background research, if you will, that made the album what it became musically.
We end this section with the whimsically-titled “Alamogordo Logic,” a shorter compilation of potential synth settings.
To finish up the disc, we return to some actual pieces of music. The “Early Version” of “Touch and Go” kicks things off, in a faster but otherwise nearly-complete demo version of the song.
Foxx then moves into an almost House-like beat paired with a semi-succcessful vocal in “Miss Machinery,” a song where the vocals don’t quite work and doesn’t appear to have been developed further — despite an interesting melody — but has the great phrase “let me introduce my army.” With a bit more work, this could have made a decent b-side. It’s bursting with potential but just didn’t quite gel.
The last track is the “Early Version” demo of “No-One Driving,” remastered specifically for the White Vinyl and this version of the expanded Metamatic album.
This take is pretty awesome too, with a different opening sequence and no handclaps, some “ghost vocals” but otherwise very similar to what became the finished vocals, and exactly the same lyrics. It is, if you’ll pardon the pun, a real “high note” to end the box set on, and reminds listeners why they are fans of Foxx in the first place.
THE POSTSCRIPT
If you’ve been obsessed with the original album since it came out half a lifetime ago (!), you will want to own this box set, even the more experimental Disc 3. If you’re a more casual fan who enjoyed Metamatic but may have another Foxx solo album as your favourite, the 2007 Edsel 2CD reissue will probably tide you over very well — it has many but not quite all of the highlights found here.
If you really need all the “Alternative” and “Early” versions, though, and are willing to slog through some unfinished bits, you will want this much-superior 3CD version from 2018. The CD scores over any previous vinyl version (even if you prefer the latter format over the former) by way of the art cards, silvertone booklet, and the possibility of the autographed card.
This disc is almost entirely the b-sides of the singles, remixed or early versions of some songs, and three “new” extended mixes of the original versions made decades after the original album for a 2007 2CD reissue of the album. The sleeve, as seen and mentioned when discussing Disc 1, bears the “artwork” of a master reel tape (Reel 2, as it happens), recorded in June 1979 and engineered by Gareth Jones, with Foxx himself acting as producer.
One’s esteem for the artist grows even more when one recognises that yes, Foxx did almost everything here himself except for a few musical touches and a technical job he couldn’t do, primarily because he’s only one (new kind of) man. The first 10 tracks on Disc 2 comprises most of the second CD of the 2007 DLX RM, a mix of non-LP a-sides and b-sides for the singles.
Following those 10 tracks, we are treated a radio edit and single version of two a-sides that weren’t present on the 2007 box. This is followed by three “alternative versions” (not demo tracks, but probably home studio recordings still much more in the Ultravox! style – including one very special one), and then the aforementioned reworks of three album tracks, two of which are again from the 2007 2CD second disc.
THE MUSIC
The disc leads off with “Film One,” which I first heard as the b-side of the single “Underpass.” One first hearing all those years ago, I wasn’t very big on it. It was dark and heavy and dour compared to the A-side, but I’m glad I revisited it when this box set came out (and again when writing this review).
Now to my ears it sounds more like a symphonic expression of the whole “industrial” music genre. You want heavy metal? This is more like the sonic expression of heavy metals.
“This City” ended up being the third a-side track for the 12-inch “Burning Car” maxi-single, when it should have been the b-side for “Underpass” in my view. Similar to “No-One Driving,” “This City” has an urgency to it that I think would have paired nicely with the a-side.
Instead we got six songs on the 12-inch in total: “Burning Car,” “20th Century” and “This City” on the a-side, and “Miles Away” (another future album track), “A Long Time” (not included on this box set, because it appeared on The Garden), and “Mr. No,” an almost-jazzy instrumentalwith an undercurrent of discord and menace. The periodic “singing” from R2-D2* on the track ties it in nicely to the at the time just-released film The Empire Strikes Back.
*not really, but the same synth used for the film’s famous bot-voice.
The fourth track “CinemaScope,” uses a basic Foxx-ian music bed, adding in his speaking/singing voice and bleeping synths set against a shimmering audio backdrop.
Next up is the non-LP a-side “Burning Car,” a Ballardian masterpiece that should have been a hit single. Deceptively simple due to it’s short chorus (“It’s a burning car!”), the song unfolds its story in the verses.
I played this once in a middle of DJ set at a club called Visage a great long time ago, and although the crowd thinned a bit since it wasn’t a familiar ‘New Wave’ song to them, the people who were really there to dance embraced it with their tribal dance moves. One passionate dancer of my acquaintance in particular seemed thrilled that something “obscure” — compared to the reliable 80s dance favourites — had made it into the set list.
This was followed with “Glimmer,” the first hint we’ve had thus far of Foxx’s growing interest in ambient music. “Glimmer” doesn’t really qualify per se, but it casts a serenity spell with its backing curtain of sound. The simple but building melody and the lack of vocals proved, very satisfactorily, that Foxx doesn’t need his vocals to take you to another place.
Speaking of which, the next track, “Mr. No,” is also an instrumental — a curious choice to bunch them together a third of the way through this disc, but I’ll take it. This one was very different, with kind of an “electronic jazz” feel (another “new” sound style at the time), with Foxx’s reliable undercurrent of discord and menace.
The periodic “singing” from R2-D2 on the track (not really, but the same synth used for that bot’s “voice”) ties it nicely to the concurrently-released The Empire Strikes Back.
“Young Love” ends the instrumental break with a roaring return to the Ultravox! days, and it is a glorious return to form. Maybe it’s the phrase “rockwrok” and the rhyming couplets, maybe it’s the full-throated singing we very rarely get here among this album’s many associated tracks, but at a guess I’d say this was a song from his notebook they didn’t get to before his departure from the band, and … well, why waste it? It might well have benefitted further from a proper band treatment, but I think it’s perfect just as it is.
Then, “20th Century” goes in a different direction — John Foxx does a John Lydon (!!) style vocal on a track that had an “underdeveloped demo” feel, given the minimal lyrics — essentially just the title, with an occasional “It’s the” thrown in before it from time to time. It’s got a great hammering bass line, an urgent beat, and a nice mix of what I’ll call SynthFarts™. If “Young Love” had been a single, this probably would have been the b-side.
Speaking of underdeveloped demos, “My Face” is a song that later got reworked into the superior “No-One Driving.” This version is obviously rougher, but we finally get what seems like some uncredited Robin Simon treated guitar in another number that could have ended up with Ultravox! in an alternate reality. Lyrically it’s quite thin, but the beat and guitar are great to hear.
This moves us along into another small but notable “room” in this exhibition — single and radio edit versions. The radio edit of “Underpass” gets an entire minute shaved off, which seems like vandalism but makes it even more urgent. The melody for this dystopian hymn is so simple a child with any level of harmonic understanding could play it on a toy piano, and yet 43 years later, the haunting effect of the synth wash and performance combine to give it an aura that never leaves you.
For the single version of “No-One Driving,” there’s been some work done on it that amounts to a notable variation, so I’m very glad it’s here. Compared to the album version, the single sports doubled vocals for harmony, and a synthetic female wail matched to the synth sounds in spots.
There’s also a more treated use of the “handclap” sounds here, and some more-prominent piano in places. Overall, it’s considerably clearer and brighter than the album version — perfect for AM radio.
This version also uses the more radio-acceptable line “Someone’s gone missing in the sheets,” rather than “liquid.” It’s an overall improvement in most areas, retaining that relentless beat, apart from the ending.
Both the album and single version end with a piano effect like a bell tolling, but the single version finale is sparser and slower; Foxx beefed it up with more echo, sped it up a little, and added some treated “drone” effect to the end for the album version. This means the “single” is three seconds shorter.
We now move into the “alternative version” room for the final third of the disc. For me, noting that this CD set had the “alternative” (read “early”) version of “Like a Miracle” was the most exciting single entry apart from the third disc’s considerable list of previously-unheard songs.
Foxx later turned this into quite a masterpiece a couple of albums after this one, in 1983’s The Golden Section, and this “rough sketch” of it isn’t a patch on the finished version. For starters, Foxx speaks it more than sings it except for the chorus, and the vocal seems very pulled back compared to the passion of the future album version.
It also has a different “oh-ho-ho” call, and the arrangement heard here wouldn’t have been past Jona Lewie to create if Lewie’d had more and better synth gear. It’s still clearly a great song, so I’m glad it got held back and polished for later release. I should mention that the version heard here is identical to the “demo version” I first heard many years ago, but considerably cleaned up for this CD release!
“A New Kind of Man (Alternative Version)” was another treat. You get more of a “spy” vibe from this thanks to the “Peter Gunn” riff, and honestly had it existed at the time, it would have made a good theme tune for the late-60s Patrick Magoohan equally-brilliant TV series “The Prisoner.” This also has a fully different vocal performance, with more urgency and darkness to it.
The last of the “Alternative Versions” on this disc is “He’s a Liquid,” which starts identically to the released version, and its not until the end of the first verse that we hear a significant difference: ethereal background vocals (from John) following the melody line, along with a somewhat different lead performance, not to mention a brighter EQ setting.
The last three tracks are marginally “extended” mixes of the songs “Plaza,” “Underpass,” and an “extended fade” version of “Blurred Girl,” the latter of which is appearing here for the very first time, as far as I’m aware. More of any of these great tracks is welcome, but I think “Underpass” benefits the most, because it’s just a song I don’t want to end, ever.
Next time: NOW how much would you pay? But wait, there’s more!
As we begin our tale, Ultravox! (as it was then known) was at a crossroads. Their leader, John Foxx, had departed (along with guitarist Robin Simon) over creative disagreements after three critically-acclaimed but not great-selling albums. Foxx was determined to carry on as a solo act, bringing his unique voice and poetic vision, unerring pop sensibilities, and recent obsession with synthesizers/electronic music with him. He left behind a set of highly talented musicians, leaving only “Mr.X” (oh yes he did!) as a parting gift to remind fans of future Ultravox (no “!” anymore) that it was John Foxx who led them down the path that led to that highly-successful reinvention.
Foxx’s first solo outing emerged in the same year as the now Midge Ure-led Ultravox masterpiece Vienna, with Metamatic hitting the bins three months before. Foxx on his own (with a little help from some friends) and Ure’s reconfigured Ultravox both turned out years of splendid records spanning the 80s — Ultravox arguably the more commercial (but excellent), Foxx the more esoteric (but excellent), and both taking maximum advantage of the wealth of new sounds not heard before in popular music, albeit in somewhat different ways.
Arguably, Foxx’s debut solo album is the more brilliant of the two competing albums — not just because Foxx (almost) single-handedly invented the “Cold Wave” sub-genre of synthpop, but his interesting use of what I’ll call “disharmonies” mixed in amongst the fragmentary and dream-like lyrics alongside flawlessly catchy melodies and memorable poetry. All this, even before we get to the fact that he essentially put this album together by himself.*
*okay, he had Jake Durant on additional bass and John Barker on additional synths, but it was essentially a true solo project.
It’s hard to express the power and delight that Metamatic generated on original release in May of 1980. The completely alien concept of entirely electronic music I had first heard with Wendy Carlos’ Switched-On Bach and Kraftwerk’s Autobahn as a youngster — which strayed so far outside the mainstream of music and yet was so mesmerising — had blossomed into my passionate embrace of out-of-the-ordinary modern with this and Vienna into a proper musical obsession, and opened wide for the tidal wave (inside joke, that) of synth music that was to follow.
Until I heard Kraftwerk, I was largely comfortable with mainstream radio and the music it played, but only passively. Punk kicked open the door and forced me to understand and identify with other kinds of “rock” music, and subsequently I explored and loved a number of sub-genres, especially punk, ska, electronic, synthpop, New Romantic, and of course the bigger tent we called New Wave.
Nowadays, all that kind of thing has a couple of handy catch-all names — “alternative” and “post-punk” — but at the time it was like having a hurricane descend on you, tear up everything you thought you knew about music, and reassemble it in new and fascinating ways. Post 1975, we definitely weren’t in Kansas anymore.
THE BOX
Even there are only three discs in this box set, it comes in the same kind of expanded CD box made of laminated cardboard, with each album in its own cardboard sleeve with the original art (cleaned up a bit).
In 2014, a remastered version of the album (and a disc similar to what’s on Disc 2 here) was issued, but only on vinyl as a Record Store Day bonus. I was very disappointed that it hadn’t also come out on CD at the time, and consequently didn’t buy it.
Thankfully, four years later this CD version arrived, and far better packaged on top of being preserved in a superior format. Good things come to those who wait, as they say.
In my copy, the first item one sees on opening is an art card printed in silver ink with an alternate version of the cover photo and the “Metal Beat” logo. This is followed by the booklet, again printed in silver tone so it is bloody hard to read unless you have the light just right, but the only text is the lyrics from the album and some credits for the box set.
The cover of the booklet might be the most “human-like” item in this set: the cover, and a couple of other pages scattered throughout, depict handwritten lyrics straight from Foxx’s notebook — in printed handwriting. There are also some photos, synth charts, and other remnants.
(photo by and courtesy of the Post-Punk Monk)
This is followed by four more silvertone art prints, each on separate cards. These include a screen version of one of the single sleeves, a couple of paintings (presumably by the talented Mr Foxx), and another alternate take from the original photo shoot for the album cover.
Moving on from that is the silvertone sleeve for the album itself, unadorned with type or a border as it was on the original vinyl release (and the cover of this box set). The two other disc sleeves are also printed in silvertone, but look like the covers used for the master tapes (apparently the album was recorded at Pathway Studios in London).
(photo by and courtesy of the Post-Punk Monk)
For the first 750 pre-orders, a special fifth art card was included underneath the CD sleeves — revealing the synth button and level settings for “Underpass,” and signed by the great man himself. Rather than a Wonka-like “golden ticket,” this one is most definitely silver — but for fans who live outside the UK in particular, it is a very precious gift.
THE MUSIC
The original album consisted of the 10 tracks on the first disc of this box set — “Plaza” through “Touch and Go.” As far as I can tell, all the tracks are the 2014 remastered versions as mastered by Joe Caithness, regrettably getting awfully close (but “never quite touching”) to brickwalled. I don’t currently have access to a copy of my original CD or vinyl versions, but the separation and clarity are quite good on these new digital versions, as you’d expect. It’s a definite improvement on the original vinyl version.
Rather than go through song-by-song, I invite anyone reading this who never heard this album to put it on via streaming or whatever means at your disposal, and marvel at this artifact seemingly fallen from the far future that retains its timeless sound. Even if you’re familiar with Ultravox and other synth-based bands, you’ve never heard anything like this: warm singing backed with his off-kilter cold persona; acid-trip level visual lyrics describing dreams and alternate realities like a mysterious narrator who walks between worlds; oddly warm melodies with dissonant harmonies; music that really takes you to a very different place, and yet is accessible to the open mind.
Foxx is the master or marrying “cold” synths with romantic visions in a world of machines, but in a detached voice — like a robot describing your dreams. Listening carefully, his self-harmonizing is unlike anything anyone else could do easily, and yet so many of the tracks are memorable and … “catchy” isn’t quite the right word, but “perfectly crafted” will have to do.
His lyrics effortlessly paint pictures of those futuristic worldviews we never achieved, the kind of utopia/dystopia where personal hovercraft fly around the city while mystery and malice lurk just beneath the surface.
Here’s a few sample lyrics to get you into the mindset you’ll need to navigate this frozen paradise:
On the Plaza We’re dancing slowly lit like photographs Across the Plaza Toward the shadow of the cenotaph — “Plaza”
Well I used to remember Now it’s all gone World War something We were somebody’s sons — “Underpass”
The family’s back from long ago The voices burnt, the voices gold Vapour trails go by Voices on the lines Nothing to come back to, can’t we fade? — “No-One Driving”
We’re fixing distances on maps And echo paths in crowds The light from other windows Falls across me now A blurred girl — “A Blurred Girl”
It’s not just the sound of the future, he transports you to that future.
My favourites on the album are the most driving and/or urgent of the songs, so “Underpass” (the big hit single), “Metal Beat,” “No-One Driving,” “A New Kind of Man,” and “Touch and Go.” The second-tier songs (for me) are still excellent: album opener “Plaza,” “He’s a Liquid,” and the most romantic of the selections here, “Blurred Girl.”
The lesser songs (in my view) number only two: “030” and “Tidal Wave,” there to try something even more mechanical-sounding, but they feel underdeveloped as musical ideas.
There was absolutely nothing quite like this in popular music in 1980 … even Ultravox took a markedly different (and smoother) path. The metallic sound with the mostly-cold and dry-ice lyric delivery accompanied angular self-dueting vocals … even Gary Numan’s Replicas reinvention, brilliant as it was, paled in comparison.
When this 3CD box version came out in 2018, my dear friend The Post-Punk Monk reviewed it in a series of posts, with me commenting from the peanut gallery. At the time I called it the best album I’d heard that year (meaning 1980, and there was some stiff competition that year!) and the expanded version was the best purchase of the year.
Six years later, Metamatic is seriously one of my favourite hard-core-electronic albums ever.
When the Monk summed up the sound as “Kraftwerk Reggae,” a bomb of comprehension went off in my head. In addition to the unconventional sound and singing, there was so much space sonically on this record! You can find the Monk’s nine-part review of the album here, and it’s highly recommended.
The first two singles from the album got into the top 40, but didn’t go much beyond that. The initial single was by far the strongest choice, “Underpass” (or “Underpants!” as I still call it to this day, giggling). The follow-up single was a logical choice as well: “No-One Driving,” a true Ballardian panic attack of isolation and nightmarish nihilism.
“A New Kind of Man” was pressed for a third single, but never officially came out — it may have been judged a bit too discordant, or perhaps just too similar to the fever pitch of “No-One Driving.”
Next up: the B-sides, the single versions, extended mixes and alternative versions!
I recently took a trip across Europe, spending the majority of my time in the Amsterdam area of The Netherlands, with smaller stops in Brussels, Paris, and Keflavik, Iceland (to see the volcano!). It was a meetup with some old and new friends to see a musical group we all deeply appreciated, Nits.
If you’ve never heard of them, fret not. They are best known in their native Holland, but tour the rest of Europe regularly to great acclaim, and release albums pretty steadily, also to great acclaim. After 50 years as a band (!), their creative well hasn’t run dry.
As for the music, “smartly-written pop with a poetic edge” might cover it, and of course being pretty old now, the tempo has gradually slowed over the decades, though I’m not sure they were ever in danger of being called a “rock-n-roll band.”
***
Anyway, that’s the background behind the trip, though far from the only thing we did. The purpose of this post is to serve as a mental bookmark for me, since I want to file the CDs and DVD I bought while I was there, but I want to remember which discs I bought while I was on that specific trip. I’m vain enough to think that someone out there would be interested in knowing also, maybe, so here it is.
Top of the list, of course, is the Nits’ latest release, Tree House Fire. At only six songs, it could be called an EP or a mini-album, but what’s important about it (besides being bought from the band directly, in Amsterdam), is that it is the group’s artistic response to a tragedy — the band’s Werf Studio, also effectively their storage locker, archive, and clubhouse — burned to the ground.
Many bands would have struggled to overcome the loss, but this group knows one main way to express how they feel, and that is through song. Not every song on it has a direct connection to that event (I think), though most of them do. I was very happy to finally be able to support the band directly, to share in their sorrow and strength to carry on, and to finally see a band I’ve been collecting since 1981 or so (!) in person, performing live on stage to an appreciative hometown audience.
***
Okay, that’s the context, here’s the list with no more commentary, not ranked in any particular order (prices included when known):
— Nits, Tree House Fire (EP), €10 — Cinerama, Quick Before it Melts (CD-single), €1 — Brian Eno, Brian Eno’s Original Score for the Documentary Film about Dieter Rams (Album), €5 — The Monochrome Set, Access All Areas CD+DVD concert, €5 — Nits, Wool, (Album), €5 — David Bowie, A Reality Tour (DVD), €12
BBC Sessions 1986-1987 and Live at Bath Moles (Cherry Red, 2020)
THE PROLOGUE
We’ve arrived at the “odds and sods” basement of this five-storey structure, having gone pretty chronologically from their earliest self-made recordings and through the course of their first three official albums. While we’ve had a few “live in the studio” songs, what we haven’t had so far is any live recordings.
Owners of Everything’s Shining Bright, the previous compilation of The Primitives’ early days, had what appears to be a full summer of 1987 concert at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London. Bloom! doesn’t include that particular concert, but replaces it with a different one, recorded live in Bath, England at the famous Moles nightclub, a club that encouraged home-grown talent and helped a shedload of popular bands get their start, from the 80s incarnation of King Crimson, to The Cure, to Eurythmics and many more contemporary acts.
I myself got to see a show there once — not of The Primitives, but another of my beloved underdog bands, Scotland’s Trashcan Sinatras. I have a taste for great indie rock bands that do great things artistically, but go almost nowhere commercially. It’s my background in high school and college radio to blame.
Moles sadly closed after a 45-year run in 2023. It was a more intimate club, with a capacity of just 220. The Primitives show included here takes up the second half of Disc 5, but before that we get various BBC Radio sessions the band did “live in the studio” across 1986 and 1987.
THE MUSIC
If you’ve made your way through these discs along with this review, or were just a fan of the band, you’ll known most of the songs done live for various BBC Radio hosts well. True to form, the group can perform these songs live nearly as well as with the luxury of a studio, with all the pop genius intact and only secondary guitar lines missing.
The set for Janice Long, in mid-June 1986, kicks off with a grunge-y take on “Really Stupid,” a fast number about a loudmouth lout that Tracy has had more than enough of. This is followed with “Nothing Left,” one of their best numbers but I’ll (still) be damned if I can quite figure out what its about — something about the joys of being unsociable is my best guess.
The band not having studio to work with makes the songs’ lyrics easier to hear (if still not always understand), and the hooks more obvious. You really gain an appreciation of the live configuration for drummer Tig Williams and bassist Paul Sampson, not to mention Tracy’s voice.
“Run Baby Run” is another song about someone leaving someone — this is an act that doesn’t want to get into specifics for some reason. “I’ll Stick With You,” by contrast, is about pairing up with someone because it’s getting dark.
A session for host Andy Kershaw exactly one month after the Janice Long get-together kicks off with “Where the Wind Blows” and its bass line, plus some echo on Tracy’s voice (supported by Paul on the sub-chorus). “Across My Shoulder” is another one of the band’s “breakup” songs, but not as catchy as “Really Stupid.”
I’ve enjoyed “Spacehead” many times, though as with most Primitives songs I’m not studying the lyrics very closely. It makes its second appearance on this box set here — a fast, snappy, almost Ramones-esque number about a strange lad that has caught Tracy’s eye.
What I didn’t mention earlier (and is even more obvious in this live version) is one of the more awkward lyrics in the band’s repertoire, with Tracy having to make “What is that boy on?/He’s a strange per-son” — pronounced as “per-sohn” — work somehow (twice!).
But never mind that, we’ve arrived at “Crash,” which is really, really missing its second guitar line when done live, along with the effective echo effect on the “shut” in “shut your mouth.” Yet another breakup song, but still an insanely good showcase of what the band is all about. This is the song you play for someone to get them into The Primitives.
For this particular performance, Tracy seems to be struggling to get the lyrics out as fast as the band wants to play, and I detect some small adjustments in tempo during the performance to accommodate.
The next session — the last for 1986 — was for the very famous DJ John Peel, well known for introducing new acts to the British public. While I have no doubt that he helped the career of The Primitives, it somehow didn’t turn out to be enough in the end. That said, we are in the early days of the band here, before they’d been signed to RCA.
This session kicks off with a very feedback-y and rockin’ version of “Stop Killing Me,” yet another song about leaving someone, that rocks very well thanks to the excellent band backup vocals and harder rock arrangement.
This is followed with “Shadow,” where Tig shifts to the tabla while Paul’s guitar is recreating the drone effect so prominent in traditional Indian music alongside Steve’s bass, fusing raga and pop very effectively with a mystical lyric.
Paul takes lead on “Buzz Buzz Buzz” as he usually does. The live version can’t take advantage of the overdubs and suffers some emphasis on the chorus because of it, but its still a wild 60’s-style number one might have imagined a young Elvis performing in one of his movies about falling head-over-heels for someone upon first meeting.
The last song for this session was a surprise — The Primitives do a Rolling Stones song, “As Tears Go By,” and despite Tracy’s gentle vocal, this version turns out to be far more danceable than the Stones’ original ballad ever imagined it could be.
We then jump to April of ‘87, and the band have been invited back onto Peel’s show for another live round. Happily, they didn’t do any of the same songs as they’d done in the previous session.
The set starts with “Dreamwalk Baby,” which follows the studio version pretty closely, and just as they sing in the chorus, the lyrics “make no sense at all” to me, at least. Something about crawling in there though.
Next up is “Ocean Blue,” and it seems that the band has invested in some fancier effects equipment since their last appearance, allowing for more echo on the drums and light vocal effects for Tracy. It remains a lovely song about (I think) a budding romance.
“Everything’s Shining Bright” is another song about a new love, and we get a chance to really appreciate the lyrics, where Tracy requests that at the end of the evening “why don’t you turn out the light/so everything is shining bright.” It’s good to know she’s not breaking up with someone for a change.
This is followed by a rarely-heard song for the band, “She Don’t Need You,” which we last heard on the “Thru the Flowers” EP and which never actually made it onto any of the albums covered here. After those two previous romantic songs, we’re back to a song about a breakup, this time told in second-person for a change.
And with that, we move seamlessly on to the gig at Moles nightclub in Bath, and the reason why this particular show was picked becomes obvious — it repeats only one song from the selections heard in the radio sessions it shares this disc with.
Not The Primitives, obviously, but a shot that gives you an idea of the size of the room.
The sound quality and mixing on this gig is excellent, and the band is using a Farisa synth to give the songs an even more 60s vibe. This version of “All the Way Down” is a faster, poppier, and much more danceable version than the one Paul sang on Pure, and it really rocks this time around. The catchiest song about chronic depression yet written, with a wild organ solo beefed up by a fuzz tone guitar effect.
We move on to another unhappy-theme-turned-groovy-pop song, “Sick of It.” A new instrumental break, a new arrangement, and the aforementioned Farisa effect keep this party charging ahead at full steam. Cynicism was never this much fun!
Tracy introduces “Give This World to You” as a “very new song,” and even with the supplemental 60’s party vibe included in this show, you can tell that the band is stretching their wings a bit. Of course, the song turns up later on the album Galore. “Ooh, I enjoyed that!” Tracy says at the end of the song.
The inclusion of the synth at this gig really adds a great new feel to the band’s performance, and I kind of wish it had been used a bit more in their album versions on some numbers. It’s mostly not present or in the background on “Outside,” and Tracy clears up a mystery in her introduction of “Slip Away,” which she brightly says is about masturbation. Again, there’s a awkward rhyme in “I’m gonna drive my soul into the setting sun/I’ve got to get away from all this tedi-um.” It’s kind of adorable.
If nothing else, this box set gives us a variety of arrangments for the song “You Are The Way,” and I am here for all of them. The live version again benefits from the low-key but present organ addition. Tracy has to hit some very high notes at the top of her range a couple of times on this one, and she nonetheless nails it.
Next up is “Earth Thing,” which had a Farisa in it in the first place, so thank heavens it’s here. I’m tempted to say this is my favourite Paul-led song, and with the adrenaline-fueled slightly faster tempo here, along with the furious playing by the band, make this a guaranteed party smash, and that’s before the “jam break” that finishes the song out, featuring the bass first, and mad organ solo second. This is the best version of this song, ever.
“See Thru The Dark” is another upbeat song about kind of a downbeat subject, using metaphors for depression to encourage its subject to “see through” the present and look ahead to brighter days.
Introduced as “quite an old one,” the band quickly launches into “Stop Killing Me,” and Tracy has no trouble spitting out the lyrics to this great song. The organ is dispensed with for this number, to try and stick to the original arrangement as much as possible, and it rocks along merrily as a result. Those “bop-bop-be-dop” backing vocals just make this song extra catchy.
The concert comes to an end with the old reliable, “Way Behind Me.” Throughout this show, Paul has mirrored Tracy’s vocal in spots to recreate a “vocal doubling” effect, and at this point he’s very good at it. Listening to this, I much regret never having caught the band in concert, but I have to wonder if the mix from the soundboard we’re getting here is clearer than what the audience experienced.
At the end of the number, the band says goodnight (so we’re not getting the encores). The gaps between songs leads me to believe we’re only getting edited highlights of a longer show — this was only about 30 minutes of music, not counting the BBC sessions, but if it’s at all representative of what they actually sounded like live, then it’s to my shame that I didn’t get a chance to experience them in person.
THE POST-MORTEM
Bloom! pretty thoroughly documents the band’s original period of activity across their own Lazy Records label before moving on to RCA for their first three albums. Although they did do well in the charts on occasion, it must have been very frustrating for a young band to work that hard and not get more recognition.
Right alongside a handful of other bands, The Primitives should have been staples of the summer tour season. Their songs are airy, poppy, and almost relentlessly upbeat, while their lyrics are allegorical enough for fans to give them their own interpretation.
Perhaps their retro-influenced sound just wasn’t in fashion yet, or their lack of “anthemic” songs like what (for example) U2 was cleaning up with was the problem. The record company appears to have given them a fair amount of support, and they got plenty of good press (especially for a band from the midlands!).
The first album made it to #6 in the charts, and “Crash” did one better in the singles ranking. By the time the second album came out a year later, however, the scene had changed — acid house music and heavier bands like My Bloody Valentine had captured the spotlight.
The Primitives still had a loyal fan following, but Pure — which indulged Court’s more psychedelic stylings — didn’t do as well with its singles, though the album itself did reasonably well. By the time 1990 rolled around and the “Madchester” movement had blossomed, The Primitives were being seen as a “throwback” band for their devotion to 1960s and 70s-style grooves.
Now with the band stretching out and exploring their psychedelic side more fully, Galore should have been perceived as a “triumphant comeback” album, but the label delayed its release by a full year, and by then the Blur-Oasis “war” was in full swing, so The Primitives just got ignored, and then dropped from their label.
The booklet included in Bloom! mentions that shortly after being dropped, the band self-released a cover of “Some Velvet Morning” under the pseudonym Starpower — and lo and behold, it got underground buzz and sold well (though it didn’t chart). RCA ironically offered this “new” band recording session money, not knowing it was the act the company had just dropped.
As a result of this, The Primitives decided not to continue. Thankfully, they reversed that decision in 2009, judging the time to be right for a reformation.
The band periodically put out new EPs and albums until 2017, but have continued to tour and are still an active touring act. They tend to play various festivals in summer, and will be touring with Hugh Cornwall and The House of Love during the winter of 2024.
The Chasbah 