Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Stiff Records Box Set – Disc 4

The Stiff Records Box Set — Disc 4
Stiff Records, 1992
4CD box set + booklet

THE PROLOGUE

Well, here we are at last, the final disc in this set, chronicling the last days of Stiff as an active record label roundabouts the mid-80s. Many of the acts Stiff first signed and/or made famous moved on to bigger record labels and more money, and Robinson and Riveria were forced to cast an ever wider net.

It’s a label that kicked off with Nick Lowe because he had already recorded to “publisher demos” at other companies’ expense, so the cost of releasing that very first Stiff single was a staggering £45. Thankfully, it did well – and the rest of the history is encapsulated here.

As mentioned previously, the tracks on these discs are in rough, rather than exact, chronological order, but on the other end of this Stiff journey we alight on the pub rock band Dr Feelgood, still going to this day as an entertainment entity but with a completely different lineup. You might wonder what a mid-70s traditionalist UK rock band is doing here, but they are part of Stiff history for two reasons.

First, singer Lee Brilleaux was the man who lent Jake Riveria and Dave Robinson the 400 quid they needed to register Stiff as the UK’s first independent record label. Second, they were a pretty damn good pub-rock band by the time they finally recorded with the label.

THE MUSIC

Things kick off with “Sign Of The Times” — a nice, poppy single from The Belle Stars, an all-female group that should have gone further than they did. I’m happy that their biggest single was one of their own originals, rather than the cover versions they had been doing for a while prior to that. Prince obviously liked the title also!

The follow-up single from the band is also included here, “Sweet Memory” as the second track on this disk, and it failed to crack the top 20 despite some pretty groove-y instrumentation. It’s certainly not as good as “Sign of the Times,” but it’s not awful either. I think the “aggressive/tough” style vocal on “Sweet Memory” is what hurt it.

Stiff was not doing as well by the time 1983-84 rolled around, and this disc is low on hits (but not without them). The label signed a bunch of new bands as their older acts left for bigger labels, and Electric Guitars is one of those. To be fair, the New Wave edge had faded by this point, but the “angular” attempts at cool had devolved into a similar style for a lot of bands.

It makes sense that the Guitars’ “Language Problems” would follow “Sweet Memory,” since it is rather similar: musically very competent, vocals rather odd.

Thankfully, the fourth song on the CD is a bona fide hit that still gets me dancing to this day: Tracey Ullman’s version of Jackie DeShannon’s “Breakaway,” a sped-up 60s girl-group song that infused extra energy and Ullman’s own sparkly vocals into an irresistible treat. Two minutes and 37 seconds of absolutely perfect pop.

This is followed by a song that might have made it but missed it by this much, Passion Puppets’ “Like Dust.” Musically, it has the moves, the vocals aren’t bad, there’s no reason this harder-rock mainstream number couldn’t have done reasonably well, and yet it didn’t. I can only imagine that the collapse of Stiff in 1984 contributed to the band’s failure to put out more than a single album.

Likewise, “Dangerous Dreams” by Jakko sounds like perfect FM radio fodder, but went nowhere just the same.

But now, time for something different: King Kurt launches “Destination Zululand” at us with a Tempole Tudor style and a bad Elvis impression. This sounds more like the happier days of the label, and it’s competently performed but silly. Not great, but certainly fun.

If you had trouble deciphering exactly what King Kurt is saying at all times on his song, wait till you get a load of poster-boy-for-dental-work Shane McGowan and the Pogues, who debut in this set at last with “The Sick Bed of Cuchulain,” a rollicking 100-proof Irish punk-folk hit complete with tinwhistle. McGowan alternately snarls and rocks it in this tale, which draws from Irish folklore based on an actual 11-century (lost) Yellow Book of Slane.

The next track is absolutely not what you might expect following The Pogues: “Pick Me Up” by the Inspirational Choir of the Pentecostal First Born Church of the Living God. True to their name, its an African-American church choir singing Christian Rock (or more accurately, inoffensive jazz-pop). It … um … certainly stands out among the songs on this disc.

A band remarkably like peak post-punk band The Jam, but they’re called Makin’ Time, borrow the bass riff from “Town Called Malice” for their own very-nearly-as-good version, “Here Is My Number.” It’s a rousing soul-infused rocker, but … you can’t get that other song out of your head when listening to it.

Three of the four members remained active in the music business into the 21st century, with Makin’ Time bassist Martin Blunt eventually joining The Charlatans.

Time to check back in with The Pogues, doing that Pogues-thing they do so well, with a catchy, bouncy Irish … lament … called “Dark Streets of London.” If you’re reading this, you must know The Pogues, even if you can’t stand McGowan’s vocal style, so you know that musically they are both firmly reflective of Ireland’s musical heritage, while infusing the music with the energy and spittle of punk.

We mentioned earlier The Belle Stars as a band that should have been bigger: well here’s another one — The Untouchables. They briefly grabbed the brass ring of exposure and US fame with a later single “Free Yourself,” but “Wild Child” is exactly the same kind of soul-powered rock stomper. I’m reminded to go back and investigate these guys more as well.

Kristy MacColl returns to give us another fantastic song of hers, “A New England.” Sparkling guitars frame a confessional song about a broken relationship and touching on teen pregnancy, bracketed by absolutely inspired lyrics.

Here’s a sample: “I saw two shooting stars last night/I wished on them, but they were only satellites/it’s wrong to wish on space hardware/I wish, I wish, I wish you cared,” and even more so “Once upon a time at home/I sat beside the telephone/Waiting for someone to pull me through/When at last it didn’t ring I knew it wasn’t you.” Genius!

One of Jamie Rae’s two singles ever released, “Pretty One” is included here, and it’s a pleasant enough pop song, but the young Scottish singer only released one other single. Though he found some considerable fame from those two records, he suddenly withdrew from pop music following the unexpected death of his mother from leukemia. Somewhere in a vault, there’s half an album more stuff from him, but as yet it’s not escaped that I know of.

Starting off with a driving groove, 60s mod styling, and a killer bass riff and wonderful call-and-response between lead singer/guitarist Clyde Grimes and the rest of the band, a ska-like touch of horns and synth organ, “Free Yourself” by The Untouchables managed to get some airplay and exposure on MTV and US radio with this irresistable track. As someone used to say back in the day, “if this don’t get in your head, check yourself — you may be dead!”

Speaking of energy, The Pogues waltz back in with another fast-paced Irish punk ballad, “Sally MacLennane.” A punk-pop take on Irish traditional music doesn’t get any better than this. The drunken-voiced callback in the chorus is the perfect finishing touch. Two minutes and 43 seconds of pure boozy bliss.

Then, suddenly, without proper warning: deep-voiced art-rock New Wave! It’s Furniture’s best single (in my opinion), “(You Must Be Out of Your) Brilliant Mind,” with extra-weird bass tomfoolery in the chorus and occasionally elsewehre, synth strings, a New York angry sax break, full of witty lyrics and oddly danceable. It’s … wait for it … brilliant.

From the “Not Really Our Thing So Much, But It Kinda Works, Mate” department, we finally get to Dr. Feelgood, a band that was a staple of the pub-rock circuit which originally formed in 1971, making them antiquated geezers by this point. The band was anchored by singer Lee Brilleaux, but had a rotating cast of other players.

For their single for Stiff, the label gave them some synths to play with, and the result is the smoky ballad “Don’t Wait Up,” which sits a little oddly with most of the other Stiff artists but is in fact a good song well-performed with just a splash of blues.

This is followed by outright bebop jazz from the Tommy Chase Quartet with a song called “Killer Joe (Right Cross)” — no chaser, just straight shots at a quick clip. As per tradition, the piano and sax get their moment of spotlight. What the huh? 50s jazz on Stiff? What the blazes is going on?

Oh wait, whew — Furniture return to get back in the zeitgeist with a return to their cool romantic artiness, courtesy another single a-side “Shake Like Judy Says.” Oddly, it’s not really a bad placement between Tommy Chase and Dr Feelgood — the song features a jazz-tinged trumpet line (and a little xylophone), which are both given some brief prominence amongst the synth/bass/drum/guitar main sounds.

Dr. Feelgood closes out the show with an unexpected redneck anthem, “Hunting Shooting Fishing,” that at least shows off how the band normally operated, and as you might have guessed, they’re not trying for high art. This is pub rock aimed squarely at working-class club audiences, complete with driving lead guitar and drums, plenty of echo on Brilleaux, and what almost manages to be a song for the monster truck crowd. ZZ Top could only wish they rocked this raucously.

THE BOOKLET

Just before we head for the exit on this review, we have to mention – at long last – the one and only thing included in this box set that is not a CD in a jewel case (which also includes an insert card with the table of contents for each disc, also reprinted on the back card) is a 20-page booklet that tries to set the stage for the creation of Stiff and the state of UK rock music at the time, impart a little data about its founders (including police mug shots!), and outline some of the label’s whacky slogans, which really gave it character. These ranged from the enigmatic “Three Nos Don’t Make a Yes” to the punkier “If It Ain’t Stiff It Ain’t Worth a Fuck” and the wry “We Came, We Saw, We Left” (or as the ancient Romans might have said, “Venimus, Vidimus, Reliquimus). Me, I always liked their on-label saying on many of their singles, “Electrically Recorded.”

We then get in the story about the early singles, starting with Nick and his costs-already-covered first single “So It Goes,” which came out on August 14th, 1976, and hit number one in the US two weeks after it was released. “Heart of the City,” the b-side, made a greater impact on the UK music papers, and between the two songs Jake and Dave were able to pay off the initial loan that started the ball rolling.

After a kerfuffle with EMI over the use of a Beatles’ “baby butcher” unused cover for a Roogalator single, Stiff got in the habit of releasing a single and then quickly “deleting” it from the catalog, which turned out to have the effect of encouraging stores to order more copies upfront. On top of that, they’d let artists or producers scratch messages in the runout groove (no, that wasn’t really a thing until Stiff came along). Genius!

The booklet continues with various tales like that, celebrating itself and writing about both its early wins and some of its early losses – for example, the classic “Alison” by Elvis Costello completely failed to chart on its debut. Luckily, the album did a bit of business (wink). It also chronicles the departure of Jake Rivera, taking Lowe, Costello, and Yachts with him to form another indie label, Radar.

It talks about the changing relationship with the ever-fickle and ever-bitchy UK music press, which once championed Stiff but quickly decided the new crop of acts were already old hat, and chronicles the Live Stiffs tours. As punk began to fade and the Two-Tone (another indie label) legend rose, Stiff signed Madness in a canny move.

By this point we’re in the early 80s, and Madness, Tenpole Tudor and Jona Lewie’s surprise hit “Stop the Cavalry” were helping keep Stiff in the charts, desperation was rolling in like fog and Stiff was throwing all kinds of … stuff … at the wall to see what stuck. Then, like a fortuitous lifeline, in 1983 Dave Robinson took an offer of being the Music Director of Island Records, and took the entire label roster with him.

This lasted until 1985 when Robinson and Island parted ways, and Stiff was back to struggling status. By 1986, Robinson could take the swinging between feast and famine anymore, and after a last short respite courtesy Cashmere (also home to the emerging ZTT label at the time), Robinson and Stiff were done.

The booklet carries on for a bit longer eulogising some of the things that made Stiff unique (such as signing Wazmo Nariz, the guy with two ties). It ends with a listing of Stiff Staff, and thank yous to those who helped put this compilation together.

THE WRAP UP

By the mid-80s, Stiff was flailing around wildly and desperate for hits. By this point, it was sailing on reputation and fumes, and the money was running out fast. That said, Discs 3 and 4 show that Stiff still had an eye for talent, and was still taking chances on an ever-increasing variety of artists even as the ship was starting to sink.

We owe this label and those two founding maniacs a great deal of gratitude for finding and publicising such a wide and clever array of new musical talent, and for helping make the very late 70s and early 80s a fookin’ great time to be a young person who loves great music. As the scores for these four CD s show, the hits outweighed the misses, and the legacy of the label is something Dave, Jake, and the artists can be proud of.

As a grave marker of sorts, this CD set is the finest tribute/chronology/potted history you’ll likely ever get of a UK indie record label. It is still a treasure box to me, 32 years (yikes!) since I first bought it. I’ve managed to buy it at least three times: my first copy was stolen in the mid-90s; another was so well-loved it fell apart; and this third one, thus far, has been treated with care. The little bit of velcro that keeps the box closed, on the other hand, has – on all my copies, and like much of this music – never failed me.

Great songs: 10
Good songs: 4
Meh songs: 7

Next time: Roxy Music!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Stiff Records Box Set — Disc 3

The Stiff Records Box Set — Disc 3
Stiff Records, 1992
4CD box set + booklet

THE PROLOGUE

We’ve already sampled 50 songs from the Stiff catalog, and my suggestion is you don’t do this in one sitting! It’s all (well, very high percentage) good-to-great stuff, and a snapshot of an era as well as a label. But will Punk-New Wave-Powerpop-Pub—Rock-Uncategorized fatigue set in? Let’s find out!

In response to some readers – yes, we’ll cover the booklet when we get to Disc 4, and yes, I probably should have done that with the Disc 1 review. Insert traditional UK two-finger wag … here.

THE MUSIC

If you were feeling a little fatigued from listening to (or just reading about) the first 50 songs, Disc 3 is here with a shot of Vitamin Groove to revive you. Stiff could hardly have picked two more energetic, get-up-and-dance-you-fool numbers than Madness’ mid-tempo-domestic-squabble-set-to-ska song “My Girl” to kick things off, and then followed it with Jamaica’s musical master Desmond Dekker’s insanely catchy 1968 reggae classic “Israelites.”

Joe “King” Carrasco (and The Crowns) has the uneviable duty to follow that, but does a decent job with his equally-partying and Wurlitzer-led Tex-Mex hit “Buena,” which of course incorporates some Spanish into the mix.

We shift gears with Graham Parker’s faux-punk rockin’ diatribe “Stupefaction,” complete with a snarling indictment of life in Los Angeles. It was the first single from his final album with the (uncredited) Rumour, The Up Escalator, and while the single didn’t chart, the album was his best-selling record to that point (1980). If you like the song and his attitude, you’ll enjoy the album.

Next up is a masterpiece of the New Wave era — a “love” song that probably could never have been written, performed, or been a success in any other era. Jona Lewie’s biggest hit, “You’ll Always Find Me in the Kitchen at Parties,” was a song I identified with in my very early teen years, until I become the social butterfly I am today (heh).

It’s minimalist, it’s low-key, it’s monotone, and I love it (and it’s not like everything else he’s done). I’m sure it was intended as a “novelty” single, but it bypassed Doctor Demento and became a surprise Top 20 hit in the UK, reaching the #3 spot in New Zealand and parking there (on both charts) for weeks on end.

To the best of my knowledge, there’s only been one “cover” of this song … in 2010, a duo called Man Like Me took the backing track, replaced Lewie’s vocals with their own, and made a video. It’s not horrible, it’s not great, and it’s on YouTube if you want to see it.

If you’ve never heard the original, good lord people — listen to it RIGHT NOW. It’s an Awkward Teenager Redemption Anthem! Plus, this particular video features bonus Kirsty MacColl!

This is followed by the joyous power-pop of Any Trouble, with the song “Trouble With Love.” The group as a whole had its ups and downs, but I have always been a fan of anything lead singer and songwriter Clive Gregson cared to put down on tape — he does a great job of marrying upbeat pop with “unlucky in love” lyrics.

Dave (L.) Stewart — not the guy from the later Eurythmics — spent his time at Stiff mostly covering old songs, as far as I can tell. He had played with bands like Hatfield and the North in the 70s, but by 1981 he was putting out singles with guest vocalists.

The first of two such collaborations we’ll hear on this disc is “What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted,” with vocals by Colin Blunstone (formerly the singer for The Zombies) with some female backing vocals. The song, from 1966, was first recorded by the great soul singer Jimmy Ruffin, who really poured a sense of genuine heartache into it.

Almost every singer who has covered the song since has hewed very close to the original arrangement, but often don’t bring the anguish Ruffin did. It’s the same problem here: Stewart’s instrumentation, while nicely departing from the Ruffin arrangement, replaces it with a cold, synthy-piano-led, clinical style. Blunstone’s singing, while pleasant, is likewise perfunctory for the most part. We’re not looking forward to more of the same later.

Since the last song was so soulless, it follows that Graham Parker would have to follow with his sarcastic takedown of his (former by this point) record label, “Mercury Poisoning,” which is a rollicking complaint letter set to music. His new record company (Arista at the time) had no issues with it, but Parker didn’t last too long there either. This live version got licensed to Stiff and they ran with it, and emerged seemingly unscathed (at least, I’m unaware of any song by Parker with a play on the name Stiff …).

Dirty Looks was one of those bands that always seemed interesting, seemed promising, but at least for me they never managed to push it over the line into being a fan. “Let Go” is a nicely energetic and tuneful number with a great pre-chorus praising the rock n roll spirit embodied in the advice of the title. It’s a good single that probably should have done better than it did — see what you think:

Madness returns with their clown car of fun ska and “nutty boys” story-songs with “Baggy Trousers,” showing that their style had legs to cover more than just their first (brilliant) album. Madness by this point is a reliable and predictable brand, beloved by skinheads and grandmas alike. Nice trick if you can pull it off!

Dave Stewart returns, this time with regular partner Barbara Gaskin in tow, for another off-beat take on a standard: this time, “It’s My Party.” This version works better than Dave’s cover of “Broken Hearted,” because the song was a torch song in the first place, and so performing it like a morose ballad technically makes it a better version that Lesley Gore’s original, but I still prefer Gore’s version. The girl-group backing vocals just put the cherry on this synth-minimalist but perceptive cake.

Speaking of covers, John Otway’s take on the old country standard “The Green Green Grass of Home” is … well hang on, who is this person anyway? I confess I’m not that familiar with him, but he appears to be simply an eccentric musician who tries to do thing in his own unique way.

So, knowing that, it’s possible to appreciate this sometimes atonal, weirdly performed, nearly acapella first minute of the cover, followed by the full band kicking in and Otway singing a raucus version in the second half. It’s certainly a “chaser” between the first half and the second half of the disc, I’ll say that.

Following that, Tenpole Tudor swing around playfully with “Three Bells in a Row,” a tuneful song about “fruit machines,” (coin-operated UK roulette machines where you try to line up three items in a row, with the big winner being three bells). Frontman Ed Tudor-Pole is just out for a good time, and pretty much all the music I’ve heard from the band is the audio equivalent of a good-time pub crawl.

It was good choice to sequence Jona Lewie’s cheery (or as cheery as his deadpan voice allows) “Stop the Calvary” as the next track, as it keeps up the good mood and suddenly turns into a Christmas single unexpectedly (and it’s still played around Christmas time on UK radio to this day).

What’s next? The two songs by Department S you’re ever likely to have heard before, “Going Left Right” and “Is Vic There?” Oh but plot twist — the version of “Is Vic There?” is the French version! Qu’elle surprise!

The former song has a driving style with a lovely swirling synth dressing and snarky lyrics about disco dancing. I still like this song very much, and wish they’d done more in this vein, even though it’s the longest song on this disc (at four and a half minutes).

“Is Vic There?” is a fragment of a phone conversation turned into another catchy, intense yet danceable single, with both French and English lyrics. I should really look into the rest of their output, but I can only think of a handful of Department S songs I’ve ever heard, and they’ve all been good.

Here’s the English-language version of the track.

Now we come to a band called the Equators that I know nothing of other than this one song. “If You Need Me,” has a ska influence to it, and there’s nothing really wrong with the song other than it being a bland love tune, lyrically. It didn’t inspire me to investigate them further.

As if in reaction to the mediocrity of the Equators, Tenpole Tudor return to overturn the table, spike the punch, and swing from the chandelier in an attempt to bring the party back to life with “Wunderbar.” It’s not as energetic as punk in the verses, but it chugs along nicely and the chorus is a big drunk gang singing the word “wunderbar” and whistling as only a big drunk gang can. As good as it is, they get one-upped in due course.

“Allamana” is a quite forgettable number by Desmond Dekker, and was likely a b-side. Nuff said.

We shift gears pretty hard from this string of ska-jacent music with the arrival of Alvin Stardust and his urgent mission to put a new spin on the traditional 50s love ballad. Blessed with the smoothest voice this side of Buddy Holly, he ups the tempo, drips with echo, and has perfectly harmonious backup singers. It’s fabulous.

Billy Bremner of Rockpile (and Nick Lowe and Dave Edmunds’ various other records) drops by with a serviceable but relaxed performance of a song called “Loud Music in Cars,” where the title is not only the subject, but the first words sung (and he has a pleasant-enough voice, though the influence of Lowe and Edmunds is keenly felt). It’s a simple Scottish pop song about a simple subject — loud music in cars is something Bremner enjoys, apparently. It somehow sticks in your head, though.

Oh, but then … Tenpole Tudor return to take us away from all that amiable-pop-rock crap with another stomper likely to be sung by football hooligans, “Throwing My Baby Out With the Bathwater,” a good-time breakup song.

This is stunningly well one-upped by a band called Pookiesnackenburger, who I am astonished to report managed not only to produce more than this one madcap song, but indeed produced two complete albums I really must investigate. “Just One Cornetto,” flatly, my favourite song on this disc by a long way.

Following some incomprehensible chatter, the song begins with a Madness-like call to action, becoming a party set to music and a delightfully mad lyric — a love song to an ice cream novelty, the beloved Cornetto. The whole thing is as delightfully mad as the band’s name, and all over in 2’26”. Love it.

Next is Via Vagabond with a driving, swinging jazz number called, brilliantly, “Who Likes Jazz.” It’s wonderfully performed with blazing piano, a touch of synth, but really driven by the drum-and-stand-up-bass 50s style tempo.

The disc concludes with Tracey Ullman with another slab of 60’s style girl-pop, with a beautifully clever title lyric — “you broke my heart in 17 places … Shepard’s Bush was only one.” The secret sauce behind Ullman was always Kirsty MacColl, and this is one of her cleverest songs.

This was part of Tracey’s debut album of the same name, mostly consisting of an eclectic array of remakes of well-known love songs, including Blondie’s “(I’m Always Touched By Your) Presence, Dear,” and a lovely cover of Jackie DeShannon’s brilliant “Breakaway.” MacColl also contributed one of her songs she’d had a hit with herself, “They Don’t Know,” and Ullman’s version was a bigger hit than MacColl’s version — reaching the top 10 in the US and peaking at number two in the UK singles chart.

THE WRAP UP

The tracks on these discs are not arranged in strictly chronological order, but they do roughly follow the progression and diversification of the label, and we’re definitely seeing that here. Thankfully, Robinson’s ear and eye for talent remained true, but the number of Stiff acts that went on to bigger labels and greater success is a remarkable testament to that.

“Punk acts” on this compilation mostly consist of The Damned and Alberto Y Lost Trios Paranoias, and they’re not heard from after the first CD here. That said, my personal rating of “great” songs goes up to a new high mark here . Here’s the score for CD number three:

GREAT SONGS: 14
GOOD SONGS: 6
MEH SONGS: 5

Next time: Disc 4 … and oh yeah, the booklet!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Stiff Records Box Set – Disc 2

The Stiff Records Box Set — Disc 2
Stiff Records, 1992
4CD box set + booklet

THE PROLOGUE

Settle in, dear readers, it’s another disc and another 25 songs spread out another hour and 17 minutes, or an average runtime per song of 3’08”. As before, there’s a mix of Stiff’s artists that went on to become famous and/or influential, and a smattering of songs and artists that … didn’t.

THE MUSIC

Disc Two kicks off with another pair of songs by Nick Lowe, just as Disc One did. This time, we get the non-album track “I Love My Label,” which is probably why he got more songs on this compilation than anyone other than his protege Elvis Costello (at four songs each).

Nick’s original of it has only ever appeared on a handful of Stiff Records compilations, of which this is of course one of them, but Wilco very faithfully covered the song as a bonus track on their 2011 album The Whole Love.

This is followed by “Marie Prevost” from his first album, Jesus of Cool, released in March of 1978. It tells the tale (inaccurately) of the silent film star’s life and death. A story had gone around that part of Prevost’s dead body was consumed by her two dogs, and this was used by Lowe in the song.

It isn’t true — she died, destitute, at age 40 from alcoholism and malnutrition due to anorexia nervosa, with her body intact. One of her dogs, in fact, caused neighbours to discover that she had died via the animal’s incessant barking.

Next up is Ian Dury & The Blockheads with “What a Waste,” a song about all his squandered opportunities in other occupations, but for that he chose “to play the fool in a six-piece band.” It’s another mildly entertaining and amusing song, as is his forte.

Elvis Costello pops up next with a live track, which he announces is written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David: “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself,” one of the duo’s many pop standards. Elvis is perhaps surprisingly sincere in his performance of the 1962 number, first made famous by Dusty Springfield’s version.

You could be forgiven for thinking that the fifth track, “Whoops-A-Daisy” by Humphrey Ocean and the Hardy Annuals, was just a more twee version of Ian Dury on a lark. In fact, however, Mr. Ocean is a real person, and a noted UK painter.

The uncanny resemblance in this track stems from Ocean’s affiliation with Dury (who was his art teacher, friend, and apparently vocal coach). Ocean had played bass in Dury’s previous band, Kilburn and the High Roads. Following this music-hall type single, Ocean gave up music and returned to painting.

This is followed by a trio of well-known songs from the New Wave era, the first of which is Lene Lovich’s outstanding cover of Tommy James and the Shondell’s 1967 hit “I Think We’re Alone Now,” originally written by Ritchie Cordell and Bo Gentry. The pop hit about two young people desperately trying to find a place to “be alone” (cough) never sounded fresher, and Lovich was rewarded with helping it chart once again.

“Jocko Homo” was DEVO’s first b-side (the a-side was “Mongoloid,”) as well as Mark Mothersbaugh’s first solo writing contribution. The name comes from a 1924 anti-evolution tract called Jocko-Homo Heavenbound, and the memorable time signatures and call-and-response chant is a play on a similar one in the movie Island of Lost Souls. It’s a compelling song because of its two time tempos (from 7/8 to 4/4 for the call-and-response part), and handily established DEVO as a completely unique band and the vanguard of the post-punk landscape called New Wave.

Ian Dury returns with one of his better-known songs, “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick,” centered on a brilliant Chas Jankel melody and the spoken (and occasionally multi-language) poetry of Dury, not to mention an insane sax solo. One of the things that so attracts me to the New Wave movement was the incredibly size of that tent — wildly different music fit and blossomed in that tent.

“Semaphore Signals” by Wreckless Eric (one of the acts that had very limited success), is a nondescript number about lovers trying to secretly communicate. He’s a “working class” singer one might charitably say, and this is a song with a cute idea behind it but stretched too thin to support its “drunk karaoke”-style vocal performance.

Speaking of drunk performers, Jona Lewie (who did at least get one big hit out of his time with Stiff), seems like a Depression-era pianist somehow transported to the 1980s, and not sure quite what to do with himself. Thankfully, he’s pretty entertaining even when he sounds … er, relaxed, and “I’ll Get By in Pittsburgh” sounds like a closing-time tune by a pianist who’s quite relaxed about his performance. Generally I quite like Lewie’s first album, but this “Pittsburgh” was the b-side to his novelty hit “In the Kitchen at Parties” for a reason.

From there, we go to “B-A-B-Y” by Rachel Sweet. She has a powerhouse voice that you either find thrilling or its like fingers on a blackboard for you. I’m more in the former camp, though Sweet certainly missed her calling as the leader of a 60s girl group by simply having been born too late (1962).

Today, she’s a successful TV writer and producer, but back then she was Stiff’s jailbait ingenue, a veteran child star who was 16 in 1978, switching from singing country to rock music and releasing her first album, Fool Around, that same year. It’s a well-regarded album that has aged well (the musicians on it would later form the band The Records), but only the single showcased here did terribly well.

By 1982 her career as a solo artist was over, with only four original albums and a live record. That said, she later wrote and sang several songs for John Waters’ films Hairspray and Cry-Baby.

For the halfway mark on this disc, we return to the ever-reliable Lene Lovich and her first and arguably biggest hit, 1978/9’s “Lucky Number,” which managed to get substantial video play on the nascent MTV. It went Top 10 in most countries in Europe and the UK where it was released.

The Members were a group that I personally judged never quite good enough to actively collect, but that said I like what I hear from them. “Solitary Confinement” is a very witty song about how “great” it is to get out of your parents’ house and live on your own for the first time.

Or, as they put it: “You are living in the suburbs/And you have problems with your parents/So you move on up to London town/Where you think everything’s happening, going down/Living in a bedsit/Travelling on a tube train/Working all day long/And you know no one/So you don’t go out/And you eat out of tins/And you watch television/Solitary confinement.” Missle hits its target, dunnit?

This live version really captures how meaningful this song was to so many at the time.

Next up is “Frozen Years” by The Rumour (minus Graham Parker). Not everyone remembers that The Rumour put out three albums on their own. This song is a lightweight and pleasant synth-driven number with clever lyrics, sung by Brinsley Schwartz himself (though you’d be forgiven if you thought it was a very low-key Nick Lowe).

Then we’re back to Wreckless Eric with “Take the Cash.” Sound, practical advice regarding the handling of money and job protocols from our Mr. Eric. He embodies the “three chords and enthusiasm” ethic that embodied a number of Stiff acts, but as with “Semaphone Signals” it’s a very amusing but incredibly basic idea, and again he stretches it to within an inch of its life at 3’44”. If he’d get in and out much more quickly, I’d think him a comedic genius.

Following this is one of the absolute gems of the Stiff lineup with an absolute jewel of a song: Kirsty MacColl, the daughter of the revered folk singer and composer Ewan, absolutely nails her debut with the exquisitely gorgeous “They Don’t Know,” the story of a teenager who has found their true love on a level that their parents and others would just never understand.

The 50s styling, multi-tracked choral backup (learned from intently listening to Beach Boys albums), and the puncturing “BAY-bee” that climaxes the instrumental break are spot-on perfect, and the blend of pre-rock ballad style and nascent 80s instrumentation effortlessly show off both her talent and her musical lineage in three perfect minutes flat.

She and Stiff head Dave Robinson didn’t get on very well at the time, however, so he buried the 1979 single, and she wasn’t able to release her own album until 1985 (!). I’ve been a fan of hers since I first heard this in ’79, and was delighted when Tracey Ullman brought it to a wider audience in 1983, making it the hit it always should have been (Tracey herself became a Stiff artist, and appears later in this comp).

Robinson may have had some regrets about how he treated MacColl later on, or maybe he just finally understood how brilliant she actually was, so thankfully she gets two songs on this box set: we’ll get to the other one when we come to Disc Four.

Mickey Jupp was pushing 40 by the time he recorded for Stiff, having done the music scene in the 60s before leaving it. When “pub rock” became a thing in the UK, he happily signed back up for another hitch, and “You’ll Never Get Me Up in One of Those” is a good example of the good-time but rough-n-ready pub sound that dominates the first side of his album Juppanese (the second half is quite different — a trick more artists should employ).

The A-side was produced by Nick Lowe and features an uncredited Rockpile as the backing band, and sounds like it. The B-side of the album was produced by Procol Harum’s Gary Brooker, and is considerably more polished. After seven more solo albums, he took another break from music — but returned to recording in 2009 and most recently released new music in 2022 at age 78.

Rachel Sweet returns for “Who Does Lisa Like?” a nicely angular single that reinforces her under-age image with a song about high-school gossip. The album, titled Fool Around, gave her two popular singles: “B-A-B-Y” and “Stranger in the House,” the latter of which led her to masterfully cover a number of other classic pop and country songs.

“Drive Friendly” is the next song by a band called Motor Boys Motor. It’s a pretty terrible song about a killer car, and thankfully they do not appear again on this compilation — but hey, it might possibly have inspired Stephen King to write “Christine,” so maybe it has some value after all.

After their one 1982 album, the band reformulated itself and became the Screaming Blue Messiahs, another band I don’t care for.

We then get introduced to Lew Lewis Reformer, another pub-rocker but with a certain … something that makes me like him better than Mickey Jupp or Wreckless Eric. I think he manages to communicate his enthusiasm for the genre better than the others, and has a clearer, somewhat higher tone that stands out better from the instruments.

We move along to Theatre of Hate and their fifth single, “The Hop.” The band members had all been in punk bands earlier, but ToH carved out a sort of “art-punk” that didn’t fit easily into other labels, and indeed exemplified the genre by not fitting into any other existing label at the time, going away from the direction of New Wave right from their first single (“Original Sin” b/w “Legion”) in 1980.

I got and liked their first couple of albums (the live He Who Dares Wins and their first studio album, Westworld), but they didn’t appear to do anything else original beyond that for quite a while so I stopped paying attention. I’ll have to catch up on their 90s output, but after that spurt of activity they went kind of quiet again until 2016, so I have some homework to do on their later evolutions.

And the award for the band with the very best introductory single ever (at least in my view) may well go to … Madness’ “One Step Beyond,” the next track here. The heavy reverb’d voice and Camden Town accent (a place I know well), the playful video, and — for a lot of white boys — the introduction to a form of the Jamacian ska sound just hits us white kids like a tonne of very danceable bricks.

It’s one of those occasional songs that pretty much picks you up by your lapels and makes you move. Even better, it’s utterly timeless and joyful with every play. One of the best tracks on this disc, maybe even this whole compilation (which manages quite a few classics within its 96 offerings).

While we are catching our breath in recovery from the heavy heavy monster sound, The Rumour are here with what I think is their best single, “Emotional Traffic.” On paper, it’s a catchy song about avoiding extreme emotions. On record, it borrows from both traditional pop and nascent New Wave to give us something that’s not quite either one, but very pleasant indeed.

We’re on to the third Ian Dury number on this disc, and by this point you know it’s more of the similar. He’s wonderful at varying up the subject matter of his songs, but not very good at varying up his delivery, or the music. This is quite acceptable when you’re delivering singles, but has always been a point of annoyance for me with his albums.

Lew Lewis Reformer comes back to close out the disc with another slab of his well-produced, well-sung and perfectly-performed good-time rockers, “Lucky Seven.” It’s nothing innovative at all, but so well-done you don’t mind, and might even sing along with the rest of the pub regulars.

THE WRAP-UP

As always, these scores are simply my opinion. Your mileage may vary!

Great songs: 10
Good songs: 8
Meh songs: 7

Overall score: 7 out of 10

25 songs in an hour and 17 minutes continues to be value for money, and carries on representing the great, good, and “save it for the b-side” personality of this eclectic record label. Let’s hope the next two discs, moving into the later days of the label, can keep up their strong average.

Next time … Disc 3!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Stiff Records Box Set (Disc 1)

Stiff Records, 1992
4CD box set + booklet

THE PROLOGUE

For fans of the various artists and general aesthetic of Dave Robinson’s rebel record label Stiff, this is a holy grail relic. A grab-bag of often-great and mostly-good songs, known and obscure artists, a Whitman’s Sampler of the heart and soul of what the label put out in its heyday, and a sonic manifesto of what it was trying to accomplish.

All these years later, it can be definitively said that Dave Robinson and Jake Riveria, the co-founders of Stiff, had a good ear for talent, style, and strong songwriting. The original plan was to call the label Demon Records (a name Jake later “stole” and became very successful with, now known as DMG), but the label’s motto of “It’s a Stiff!” and catalog of BUY (number) was too funny to let go of, so the label was christened as Stiff Records.

What’s even more impressive (and proof of Robinson’s musical sensibilities) is that so many of the artists found here at the beginning of their careers went on to bigger and better. Even the also-rans generally left us with decent and sometimes quite memorable tracks. This box set has a higher ratio of classics-to-crap than nearly any compilation I own.

Happily, this artifact of a time and place in UK music history is still easily obtainable, occasionally even in mint condition for far less than its original selling price. I’ve owned two copies of it so far; the first is probably still stored in a Florida storage unit, but it might have been stolen as part of a break-in to my car that occurred in the mid-90s (I was a radio DJ back then, and trasported a huge and heavy sack of my CDs back and forth to the station for my show in those days).

I bought my second copy of the box set shortly after moving to Canada in 2007. The weak point of this box set is its well-built but cardboard-based outer shell, which has deteriorated over time. Even though the CDs inside are as pristine in their plastic cases as they ever were, I may buy a third copy while I still have this one that I will never open, such a holy relic it is to me (and cheap these days on the resale market).

Rarely has their been a label that could put out such a luxurious and properly-varied sample of its output (most just box up their biggest hits yet again), but Stiff was always very different to most labels, and this box proves it.

THE MUSIC

There are simply too many songs spread across these four discs to do much more than comment briefly on standouts or misfires without turning this into a book on its own (saaayyy …), but I encourage anyone reading this who doesn’t have a copy to get one while it’s easy and cheap to do so. You’ll never find a more varied and eclectic collection of mostly-quality rock music that captured an important time and place – the UK in the late 70s and early 80s – in music history.

The first track of the box set is, appropriately, the first single Stiff issued, catalog BUY 1: former Brinsley Schwartz’s frontman Nick Lowe with “So It Goes,” his first solo effort which kicks off with bold guitar, bass, and drums to remind the listener that nothing beats basic four-piece rock n roll. It’s a quick (2’32”) midtempo rocker with some of Nick’s best storytelling lyrics.

The first verse tells the story of “a kid who cut off his right arm/In a bid to save a bit of power/He got 50 thousand watts/In a big acoustic tower,” while the second verse muses about diplomacy: “Now up jumped the U.S. representative/He’s the one with the tired eyes/747 put him in that condition/Flyin’ back from a peace keepin’ mission.” Despite each verse having nothing to do with the previous, this series of observations rocks along in Nick’s friendly, country-tinged pop-rock style that he’s made a good career out of.

As befits Stiff’s first signee, the B-side for that single is the next track on the CD, the equally appealing but even more rockin’ “Heart of the City.” Not his most substantial song, but a good little story-song of a young runaway looking for a new life in the … well you can guess where. It’s even shorter, at two minutes six seconds.

Pink Fairies, on the other hand, offer the unmemorable and muddily-mixed “Between the Lines.” Perfunctory pub rock with indistinct vocals, but you gotta admire a band choosing a name like “Pink Fairies” in the mid 70s — that took balls.

Roogalator’s “Cincinatti Fatback” showed off the band’s angular funk style that had made them unique on the pub-rock circuit. Curiously, the track chosen is actually the b-side of their one-off single with Stiff, the a-side being “All Aboard,” which brings a semi-country swing to their funk style (but isn’t on this compilation).

Speaking of angular, “Stryofoam” by Tyla Gang is a very odd duck of a song — so weird you kinda like it, but definitely not material that would ever make any label any money, which is why you’ve never heard of them. That Stiff would even give them a shot is a testament to how wide-open the early days of the label were.

Then we come to what most experts agree is the actual first “punk rock” single ever, The Damned’s “New Rose,” released on 22-October 1976. The contempt in Dave Vanian’s spoken-word intro “is she really going out with him?” dripped with contempt for how beholden mainstream rock music continued to be to the 1950s, and “New Rose” proceeded to destroy rock music as it had been at that point without resorting to heavy metal — a revolutionary trick that inspired many other bands.

This is followed by what was for a period the “anthem” of punk rock, “Blank Generation” by Richard Hell and the Voivoids (also the title track of his debut album). Not many will know that the song is actually a rewrite of a Bob McFadden & Rod McKuen song, “The Beat Generation,” which came out in 1959.

It is said that Hell’s rewrite later inspired “Pretty Vacant” by the Sex Pistols, and it is unsurprising to learn that Hell’s vocal style gave a young John Lydon the inspiration to become a band frontman. What I’d give for a duet with those two.

The Damned return with more pure punk, the machine-gun chorus and primitive lyrics of the one minute long “Stab Your Back.” There’s a hell of a lot of songs that should be limited to just the time it takes to get the message and melody marriage across, and this is one of them (but not the only under-two-minute song on this disc).

The now-legend that is Elvis Costello enters the fray with the simmering “Less Than Zero.” A very political song that mentions a swastika tattoo in its first line, it was interpreted at the time as a (rightful) condemnation of the Nazi-like National Front party in the UK, but Costello now prefers to interpret the song as generally about the degradation of morals and behaviour in society everywhere. The song sadly continues to be relevant.

Next up is “England’s Glory” by Max Wall, a delightful comedic piano-led sendup of the British establishment in the 1970s (and beyond), from the monarchy on down. It reminds me of Benny Hill’s musical moments, and features lots of sarcastic references to distinctly British personalities and things.

An angelic chorus starts off “Maybe,” a fantastic and authentic 50s-style wailer of a broken heart love ballad sung by Jill Read, first recorded by The Chantels (and later covered rather poorly by the Shangri-Las). It features her impossibly high-note wailing (I mean this in complimentary sense — this is a really tough song to sing in its original key!) that perfectly mirrors and improves on The Chantels’ version, and skates right along the line of tribute — or is it parody? — without changing a note or word of the original.

“One Chord Wonders” is a nice group effort and debut single by The Adverts, and features a whimsical self-deprecating lyric about how poorly they play. They were touring as the Damned’s opening act, and the tagline for the bill was “The Damned now know three chords, The Adverts know one, come and hear all four!”

This is followed by the first honest-to-god ballad, Mr. Costello’s moving and gorgeous “Alison,” a still-great ballad of lost love with a line that became the title of his debut album. Despite his unusual voice and punk-accountant visual image, his brilliance as a songwriter and particularly a versatile lyricist was already evident just on these two singles.

Dave Edmunds was in a band called Rockpile with Nick Lowe starting in 1976, but was already known as a “wall of sound” type producer in the mould of Phil Spector as he was a blazing guitarist. Because of differing label contracts, they couldn’t officially record together under that name until 1980, but each contributed to the other’s 1979 “solo” albums. Here, Edmunds gives an underwhelming vocal performance but (sure enough) a wall of guitar sounds with “Jo Jo Gunne,” a Chuck Berry original. The original version is, frankly, much better.

Up next, the slow strumming and twee English accent (and humour) of Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide World,” which is an underappreciated minor masterpiece. The song is about a man whose mother says there’s only one woman for him, and she’s not around here — sparking a worldwide search for her. It’s rough, it’s cheesy, it’s great.

The next track starts off with a spoken word parody of The Damned’s opening line in “New Rose,” Stiff’s most openly comedic signing — Alberto Y Los Trios Paranoias — faithfully deliver a brilliant parody of the Damned and most contemporary punk bands with “Kill,” the vocal performance of which is the entire basis of Ade Edmondson’s later, brilliant “The Young Ones” punk character Vivian.

It also uses the word “fucking” for the first time in a punk song (I think), and also breaks ground by being the first song to finish with guitar feedback (again, as far as I know).

This is followed by a different sort of classic, “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll,” the debut single of Ian Dury & The Blockheads. Everything about Ian Dury’s career is seemingly impossible, and yet he (with the help of musical genius Chas Jankel) had a brilliant career that was never a novelty act, despite his crippling polio, and despite being a very funny and dark-humoured lyricist.

We then get the B-side of Dury’s single, “Razzle in My Pocket,” a little story-song no doubt based on a true incident from Dury’s youth, where he would shoplift porno mags he was too young or broke to buy.

Coming next to the stylish and Wurlitzer-centric “Suffice to Say” by the Yachts, a genuinely witty and catchy little love song. Maybe the first song to warn listeners in the lyric itself that an instrumental break is coming up (other musical jokes are littered throughout). It took me ages to finally pick up a CD from this band, but their self-deprecating style and charm won me over the first time I ever heard this (which was probably from the original copy of this very box set).

Mick Farren and his single “Let’s Loot the Supermarket Like We Did Last Summer” was a one-shot for Stiff, but Farren was actually in a proto-punk band in the 1960s and thus his amusing single and vocal performance should be interpreted as a parody of punk — taking the piss out of taking the piss, if you will.

He ended up being better known as a novelist than musician, but collaborated with the Pink Fairies as well as Lemmy from Motorhead. His own band, the Deviants, recorded in the 70s and then reformed in the late 90s, and continued until his death on stage with them in 2013.

The next track is a stone-cold New Wave classic, Elvis Costello’s “Watching the Detectives.” The lyrics on this are brilliant from start to finish, a take on detective stories and murder mysteries. It’s a slow-burn, bass-driven potboiler that features a stunning stream-of-consciousness style vocal delivery. Probably Elvis’ best song until he formed The Attractions.

Ian Dury returns with another slice-of-life biography, “My Old Man.” As you can guess, it’s a musical biography of Dury’s father, and saying much more about it would spoil it. It’s a thoughtful and low-tempo portrait of a man Dury didn’t really have in his life growing up, and only met again as an adult.

Next up is Larry Wallis with “Police Car,” showing off his status as the most talented (but short-term) member of the Pink Fairies. He was also an early member of Motorhead, but settled into a role as an in-house producer for Stiff, and this was the first of only two solo singles he ever made.

Jane Aire and the Belvederes, here represented with “Yankee Wheels,” also had very limited success, and “Yankee Wheels” starts off on a minor key and never manages to rise above it. The actual musicians accompanying Jane’s double-tracked vocals were also later to be put to better use as Kirsty MacColl’s band.

Trivia: the drummer on this was Jon Moss, later of Culture Club, and the guitarist was Lu Edwards, who worked with a lot of good bands. This single is, like the rest of Jane Aire’s output I have heard, uneven enough that it never warranted further investigation.

The finale for the disc is an early single by Graham Parker, “Back to Schooldays.” It’s poorly mixed in my view, with Graham not yet front and center the way he would be later, but already capable of a strong vocal performance. This particular song reminds me of the sort of warped-50s style that Richard O’Brien of Rocky Horror fame would have put out if he’d had a solo career.

THE WRAP-UP

Great songs: 10
Good songs: 9
Meh songs: 6

Overall score: 7.5 out of 10

25 songs in an hour and 17 minutes is certainly value for money, and on the whole this first disc is pretty good — after all, not everything can be a hit (and some of these are b-sides by design, of course).

Next time: Disc 2!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

Mari Wilson – The Neasden Queen of Soul — Disc 2

(3CD box set, Cherry Red, 2022)

THE PROLOGUE

It can be said (fairly) that an entire second disc of material very similar to what appeared on the first album proper might end up overstaying its welcome — unless you really enjoy full-band-and-singers 60s style love songs as a genre. In hindsight, this set should have started with this second disc — another great batch of similar material that was mostly made prior to the production of Showpeople, and thus serves better as a primer on what Tot and Mari were going for.

If you heard the material here first and then heard the resulting album, it would make for a more interesting contrast between their initial approach — sure-fire crowd-pleaser songs for concerts, for the most part — and what Showpeople ended up being, which is more of a showcase of all types of genre song styles for Mari.

These are singles (A and B sides), along with some rarities and leftovers. The big mystery with this material is “why didn’t the leftovers here constitute a second album?” These are very solid numbers that stand perfectly aside the songs that made the cut. How on earth she could ever afford such a large band (as this style of music requires) before getting a record deal is an even bigger mystery!

THE MUSIC

The first three tracks are all that kind of bombastic high-energy full-band affair that I enjoy, and all three — “Love Man,” “If That’s What You Want,” and “Dance Card” — could have easily been on the album if there had been room for more of that.

We finally get to something more focused on Mari along with track 4, “She’s Had Enough of You.” Another great track and breakup song, with a nice variation of style from the previous three “rave up” tracks. Track 5 is another winner, the original “Beat the Beat” single that is kind of a calling card for her style, again with a focus on Mari’s singing rather than so much of a group effort.

“Glamourpuss” (track 6) opens exactly like a classic noir crime drama score, and surprisingly the band introduce themselves before bringing “on” Mari. This time, her “real voice” offers both spoken and sung lyrics, and the band sing on the chorus. It’s a delightful “show” number and I can only imagine it was a big hit at the live gigs.

Finally, the original version “Baby It’s True” shows up as Track 7, and as expected it’s a tighter, introduction-less, straight-to-the-point version of the song first heard on Disc 1, without two full minutes of pointless DJ blather. The drums are still oddly leaden, but getting into the song itself is much quicker, and improves the tune a great deal. I still think this could have been a stone-cold classic in the hands of someone like Dr. Robert of the Blow Monkeys.

Wurlizer organ (!) shows up prominently on “Woe, Woe, Woe” (track 9). There’s a cute wanna-be boyfriend banter bit at the end. Mari’s later career — where she focused more on jazz as herself rather than the early-60’s person she originally projected — is foreshadowed in “Beware Boyfriend,” (track 10) a successful fusion of the 60s song style with some jazzier arrangements. Singing in her natural register also stregthens her delivery.

“It’s Happening” (track 11) and “Rave” (track 12) both seem a bit like filler tracks. The former is like another high-energy upbeat song played at 16rpm instead of 45. There’s nothing wrong with the track except that its thin material stretched out s-l-o-w-l-y simply for change-of-pace reasons.

“Rave (with The Wilsations, Live Version)” features Mari mostly speaking rather than singing with the band, showing off the interplay that was a highlight of her concerts of the period. You’d often see numbers exactly like this in 60s movie musicals. It’s a nice homage.

The original version of the cover “Ain’t That Peculiar” (track 13) is exactly what you want from this song — a torchy, bouncy number with playful instrumentation, a sparing amount of background vocals, and a great lead from Mari.

I also enjoyed track 14, “The Maximum Damage” — it’s not what you think it’s about, which I like a lot, and has some limited (but nice) call-and-response.

“Let’s Make This Last (De Lorean Style)” (track 15) is a rare number that completely abandons any pretense of faux-60s style — it’s very much of the early 80s. It “breaks the mood” a bit, but as referees and judges sometimes say about exceptions with strong arguments, “I’ll allow it.” 🙂

Track 16, “Would You Dance With a Stranger,” is a fabulous little 1950s jewel of a ballad featuring Mari’s soft and seductive tones. If the title sounds familiar, it’s because it was a hit in 1952 for Peggy Lee, and Mari’s version is a very faithful cover in terms of both music and vocal styling. It was an Italian song originally, with English lyrics by Ray Miller, and used again (sung by Miranda Richardson) in the 1985 film Dance With a Stranger, which is set in the 1950s.

This is followed by another cover, this time of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” now oddly done in the swinging girl-group style. It mostly works, but it’s a little discombobulating to follow a 50s-style ballad with a political early-70s anthem. Who did the track sequencing here, a wheel of fortune?

We finally set the TARDIS back to the proper 60s period with track 18, “Stop and Start,” very much something I could hear Diana Ross and the Supremes singing. A lot of this album would convince people the material was all written in the emulated time period, rather than (mostly) by Tot in the 80s.

And speaking of the 60s, track 20 is a cover of The Beatles’ “I’m Happy Just to Dance With You,” originally appearing on 1964’s A Hard Day’s Night soundtrack album. In this case, it’s done as a guitar-and-voice-only ballad, which is a nice take on the idea. Mari makes mention in the liner notes that this was the first time she had recorded without Tot Taylor and her usual coterie, and gave her the vision to go further in her musical career.

The final (21st) track on Disc 2 is called “Let Me Dream,” and is only the second track on the disc credited to “Mari Wilson featuring The Wilsations,” the first of course being the “Live Version” of “Rave” (track 12). It certainly has a “live in the studio” feel, but I can only guess that the reason for the different credits on these two tracks compared to most of the tracks here was because the latter were recorded with session musicians until they got the band together.

Next time: 2022 remixes and bonus tracks!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

Mari Wilson — The Neasden Queen of Soul (3CD box set)

Disc 1 of 3 – Showpeople (1983 album)

(Cherry Red, 2022)

THE PROLOGUE

Approximately 20 years after the musical and social period that inspired her as a pre-teen, recording artist Mari Wilson hit the UK scene with a pair of 60s-style singles, a beehive hairdo, and a talented backing band. She had actually dipped her perfectly-manicured toe into the water first in 1980 with a pair of non-charting singles (with the Imaginations).

Undeterred, she took another, more successful stab at it with another pair of singles in 1982 that did get into the charts: “Beat the Beat,” which peaked at #59, and “Baby It’s True,” which did better but stalled at #42. The backing band was now called the Wilsations, and the pieces were moving into place.

For those early singles, every song was a mission statement; a declaration of love for a bygone style that had broken a lot of women into the charts back in the day, and established women in rock and pop as a force to be reckoned with – most prominently in the early 1960s and the rise of the girl groups. Like those groups, there’s a svengali behind Mari Wilson — songwriter and producer Tot Taylor.

The backstory on her career, told by Wilson herself in the liner notes, is a good one — starring a struggling artist/backup singer with a vision (and a day job in an office in Perivale). She gets called in to sing lead on a “Motown” type song from a group of three guys, and ends up being so brilliant that Taylor (then going by the name “Teddy Johns”) flips the script and makes them the band and her the star.

Taylor quickly secured a singles deal on the strength of her vocal and the song, and they then re-record “If That’s What You Want” in a real studio. It was a while before the whole act came together (and a few friends like Kirsty McColl and Julia Fordham lending a hand), but eventually they had a commitment from a record company, an advocate in A&R at GTO Records, and a stack of faux-60s tracks, and shortly after the A&R guy formally joined the fold, an official record deal with London Records.

By 1983, most music lovers were focused on emerging artists in rock that had been part of the “New Wave” scene in final years of the 70s and first years of the 80s, now seasoned acts with an album or three under their belts. Chart-toppers in the UK in ’83 included New Romantic act Spandau Ballet, Australia popsters Men at Work, former faux-punkers The Police, ambitious New Wavers Duran Duran, the accurately-named Culture Club, and reggae devotees UB40.

A “throwback/nostaglia” type act like Mari Wilson should have been as “popular” as Sha Na Na in a market focused on a new generation of radio-friendly mainstream acts, but Kinder’s faith was eventually justified — somehow the young adults of the 80s had a soft spot for those smart and stylish 60s sounds.

Combine that influence with some clever production and a killer riff, and “Just What I Always Wanted” became one of the surprise hits of the year, getting into the Top 10 on the first try. Combined with Mari’s beehive and cinched one-piece day dress, the perfect matching of the look and the sound pushed her into the charts and the public consciousness .

THE MUSIC

With her debut album Showpeople, the first disc in this expanded 3CD set, every song is a mission statement. It’s always fun to revisit a long-forgotten genre and give it new life, and Mari has the pipes, sensibility, and style to do so (alongside svengali songwriter Taylor). Her main vocal style is nightclub-singer in nature, but with more (synth) strings.

The record kicks off with “Wonderful to Be With” — a riff on early-60s girlpop that clearly sets forth the rules of this game. Right from the kickoff, it’s a big love song number with layered vocals, (synth) strings, and a perfect composite of the style, even throwing in a few “space” synth sounds for good measure.

We shift gears pretty hard on the second track, “The End of the Affair” with a bolder vocal style and a big change in mood. This is a “I’m gonna win him back” type song that is often the subject fodder for country music, but here it is a classic “begging her man to break up with his side piece” number, with the requisite “band guys” vocal interjections. Even just two songs in, you can tell that Taylor has a masterful grip on this entire genre.

Yet another style is trotted out for “One Day is a Lifetime,” with busy horn work and a sultrier vocal from Mari expressing how she misses her man (presumbably not the same man as from “The End of the Affair”). Bonus: great guitar work from Keith Airey (who was known as Gary Wilsation for concert purposes)

“Dr. Love” brings the distinctly 80s Linn drums to the fore, slightly breaking the illusion of pure early-60s sentiments, but the band-guys vocal interjections redeem it, not to mention having a lot of energy for a “I’ll prove my love” type song.

Likewise, “Remember Me” rocks harder than a tragic song about finding out your love is cheating on you should. Thankfully, this one is made whole by having the smarts to include the title of the song whispered when mentioned, giving it the needed drama.

“Cry Me a River,” the classic Arthur Hamilton torch song, was another charting hit for Mari, reaching #24. Better still, this was a nice ballad-y change of pace after the last three more energetic numbers. This one goes straight-up stings-n-sax, with very little percussion.

And so we come to “Just What I Always Wanted,” a complete stomper of a rave-up the brings back the 60s go-go energy back in force, using the bass to drive the rhythm (not to mention so strong back-up singers). Mari never opts for a truly straight “girl-group” vibe, more of a Diana Ross-oh-and-yes-The-Supremes-back-there-somewhere approach.

It certainly works here, and is difficult to believe this isn’t a cover of an actual 60s single or a track from a period musical. There’s even room for a nice trumpet solo, and I absolutely love the drop-dead stop ending.

“This Time Tomorrow” starts off with violin and piano, a fresh opening for this record so far. It turns into a dramatic ballad with strings, followed by drums finally. It includes a very quizzical line, where Mari sings “I will stay tonight … tomorrow,” which … even as a Doctor Who fan, I’m not sure how you pull off that bit of time-paradox.

Mari returns to the infrequently-used lower register for “Are You There with Another Girl?” for another “man is cheating on me” song, this time by no less that Burt Bacharach and Hal David. There are some nice synth touches here and there, and a flute solo no less! Mari double-tracks her vocals on this and a number of the other songs, which isn’t really necessary as much as its deployed in my view.

We head back to quite a high register (and a Synclavier piano opener) for “I May Be Wrong,” another “I’m making a mistake but I can’t help myself, I want you back” song that doesn’t quite work, in part because the chorus seems overly busy, which undermines the ballad-y verses.

The bass-lead energetic soul love song groove is back for “Ecstasy (US Version),” which is also one of the few numbers where Mari’s vocal isn’t doubled at all. I find it a very catchy albeit busy number (with a nice spoken middle-eight) that could have been a single.

The original UK and European versions of this album ended with “This is It” (the US version didn’t include this song, and ended with “Cry Me a River”). This is another overly-busy number that sabotages itself like “Dr. Love” did, with various “big/busy” musical phrases and vocal styles forcibly joined together.

Taylor’s just not quite got this “big musical” type number style quite down, plus it repeats itself a lot and thus goes on for a minute or two too long. At least there’s a funny (unintentional) ending with a froggy-sounding synth for a few bleeps at the very end.

“Just What I Always Wanted (Extended)” begins the “bonus tracks” section of this version of the album. not to knock on Tot too much, but this is a recipe for how you take a perfect single and ruin it. First, make the instrumental opener so long (almost two minutes!) that the listener thinks its a karaoke version, but just as one starts to sing it, finally they bring in the vocals on … the chorus!

Second, edit the first verse (badly and obviously) down to just two lines, so it goes right back into the chorus. Thankfully after that, the song gets back on track and flows as it did originally for the rest of the number.

“Cry Me a River (Smooth Remix),” by contrast, is a perfection of the original version of the number. The piano-synth bits stay, the other synth parts go, the sax and Mari’s superb vocal (now clearer than the original as well) really bring the spotlight where it belongs.

You can practically smell the cigarette smoke in the nightclub in your mind, and nice little touches of violin and synth strings are thoughtfully and discreetly blended in. Tot, I didn’t know you had it in ya!

Sadly, this short interlude of sheer ballad perfection wasn’t to last too long. It’s followed by a “Discotheque Arrangement” of “Baby It’s True” (this original to be found on Disc 2). A long warm up break includes a wretched “strip club DJ” type intro which is pretty awful and goes on seemingly forever.

Nearly three minutes later (at least including “naming” the band), Mari finally appears. It’s a pity the song is pretty lightweight, with the first verse spoken. The chorus is fine, the music is okay, but this goes on way too long at seven minutes total.

We finish this disc with an “Extended Version” of “Ain’t That Peculiar,” which again features an overlong extended intro and some oddly discordant guitar (not heard elsewhere on this disc, thank goodness). Once the song actually gets going, it’s … okay … but seems awfully stretched out. Thankfully, the “real version” is on Disc 2, so we’ll reserve judgement.

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John Foxx – Metamatic (3CD box set)

Disc 2 — Metamatic (B-sides, remixes, extended, etc)
(Metal Beat, 2018)

THE PROLOGUE

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!

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Dutch Discs 2024

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

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The Primitives: Bloom! The Full Story 1985-1992 (Disc 5)

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.

Next time: Mega-Metamatic!

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The Primitives — Bloom! The Full Story 1985-1992 (Disc 3)

Pure + Bonus Tracks
Cherry Red, 2020

THE OVERVIEW

Ah, the “difficult” sophomore album … following a batch of compelling songs as demos, refinements, and finally as their debut album, what do you do for a follow-up? Well, try to break the mold a bit while still relying on what you know you do damn well, apparently.

Released on New Year’s Day, 1989 — one year to the day after their debut album — Pure explores some different approaches, and expands their “jangly airy guitar pop” worldview a bit, but the best songs are the ones that would have sat comfortably on Lovely (and in one case, actually did).

It’s still guitar/bass/drum driven, with Tracy is trying on some new styles within her range, Paul is slowly expanding his songwriting scope, but it is recognizably the same band with — at its core — the same musical approach. Where they are changing things up is mostly to do with mood — embracing some of the darkness in style that one often finds in their lyrics.

Note, for example, the somber way Paul sings “Shine.” Or, for that matter, the world-weary tone Tracy adopts (appropriately) for “Sick Of It.” Despite these more dour choices, there’s still plenty of sunshine here for when the clouds clear away, and it’s all very good indeed.

Despite this record being so much fun to listen to, it didn’t do as well as the band’s debut. It did make into the Top 40 in the UK at number 38, but stalled at number 113 on the US charts (a year after release), and even that was solely due to college radio airplay — why this great record didn’t get mainstream radio spins at least during the summer months, fer cryin’ out loud, must have frustrated the band even more than it does me.

THE MUSIC

The album kicks off with the sing-songy “Outside,” using a simplistic riff and what seems to me like xylophone (!) and cymbal rather than their usual percussion. The floating guitar effects and plaintive singing make for a very low-key song compared to the material on Lovely, but then the ominous bass notes come in and you are served notice that this song isn’t going to suddenly “rock out.” For this band, it’s a bit depressing actually.

Luckily, the next track is what I’d call their most Cocteau Twins-like number, “Summer Rain” — a guitar bed with a lovely lead line, fresh lyrics, a catchy melody and another bit of second guitar while the percussion comes in. Tracy’s doubled vocal returns very effectively, and while the pace remains firmly at mid-tempo, the song builds to a chorus that really captures the spirit of the song.

Frankly, I think they may have outdone the Cocteau Twins on this one! It’s a perfect melding of the two bands.

“Sick of It” is about as close as this band is going to get to punk. The lyrics express their negative judgement on what I have to presume is Los Angeles (joke), while the band sets about rocking pretty hard. If the band grew on you from the first album, this one will be a hit with you.

Mimed on TOTP

Then, things take another turn with “Shine” — starting with Paul handling lead vocals, and the use of acoustic guitars. Despite the change of tone, it’s still another example of the band’s primary approach — catchy pop-rock married to ominous (or at least obscure) lyrics.

“Dizzy Heights” starts off with furious riffing and utilizing audio effects and both singers to full effect. This is a group that has a style, but really really wants to switch it up a bit to avoid being called “good, but all the songs are kinda samey.”

Paul returns to his “psychedelic” vocal style to jazz up “All the Way Down” in another catchy exercise that finally brings the bass back in fully. We then get back to Primitives basics and feel-good sunshine pop with “Secrets” — joyous workout with the band at its best. It reminds me of something the Jesus & Mary Chain might have done, especially with the faster tempo of the bonus “Beat Version,” which we’ll come back to shortly.

This is followed by another “typical” Primitives menace-shaded funfest, “Keep Me in Mind.” The melody wanders off from time to time, and the lyrics are again (like most of their songs) about not much in terms of concrete messages or story, but anything that keeps all four members busy for the duration of the number is what I’m here for.

“Lonely Streets” was a popular track on college radio, with its “ooh-ooh” cascades and driving tempo. It threatens to be another sing-songy number like “Outside,” but the tempo changes save it from being a twin to that first song.

Then we try something different again with “Can’t Bring Me Down.” Vocals right up front, with the band firmly behind her. Tracy’s “sassy” style here reminds me of the one-hit-wonder UK band Shampoo and their one hit “We’re in Trouble,” a 1994 UK single.

Following this, a surprise. A re-used song! This version of “Way Behind Me” is straight from the the later editions of the previous album, but to be fair it’s fabulous, and deserved a second spin. The mix here gives everything equal focus as it did on the last album, which hasn’t been the case for most of this album, but it works for this number, at least.

The album proper finishes up with “Never Tell,” another upbeat tune but this time with … gasp! … a carefree upbeat (and metaphorical) lyric with only the lightest touch of vagueness! What the …?

To sum up the album as simply as possible, the group was paying attention to what was going on around them musically (like the “shoegaze” style), and adapted some of their songwriting to bring expanded versatility and influences into their core skill set. The result is varied and excellent.

THE BONUS TRACKS

The original CD version of the album had four bonus tracks — “Noose,” a cover of the Velvet Underground’s “I’ll Be Your Mirror,” a “Beat Version” of “All the Way Down,” and a new song from Paul (at the time going by PJ Court), “I Almost Touched You.” The cassette (!) version of the album only included “Noose” as a bonus song.

Bloom!, on the other hand, includes as many bonus tracks as their were songs on the original album — a whopping 11 extra tracks, kicking off with the far-superior “Beat Version” of “All the Way Down,” which brings the tempo and energy up to the normal Primitives’ enthusiasm levels. This version sounds like something The House of Love (or indeed, many other bands of the very late 80s) would have loved to have covered, rather than the more morose album version.

The organ and handclaps added to the song here really bring it to life and transport it back to the psychedelic 60s, the band’s touchstone influence.

This is followed by an acoustic new version of “Way Behind Me,” similar to the album version but without the (missed) “bop-bop-be-doo” intro. I’ve said it before, but this has “hit” written all over it, and it was in fact on a single — paired (oddly) with the morose version of “All The Way Down,” and the a-side was the album version of the A-Side and the superior “Beat Version” of “All the Way Down.”

“Noose” was such a totally different number from the band that it makes an odd choice for the “lead” bonus track, but that’s not to say it’s bad. Alternating vocals from Paul and Tracy (coming together at points throughout) sound like they wrote and recorded the track immediately after viewing some old-school “spaghetti westerns” — particularly for the opening chords and beginning percussion.

As the song gets going properly, the mood then evolves into their idea for a soundtrack to the 60s Italian “high stakes caper” movie Danger Diabolik!, complete with synth strings! If you’re not familiar with John Phillip Law’s 1968 Italian action movie masterpiece, watch that first before you put this on — your enjoyment of it will be doubled!

The mash-up of vintage video works oddly well with this song.

Switching up the mood, the next track is that remake of the Velvets single I mentioned. The Primitives’ respectful version of “I’ll Be Your Mirror” is more upbeat and frankly better in most respects, and sounds very credibly like a cover single made around the same time by a girl group of the the original’s era. It’s hard to beat the groundbreaking original version and Nico’s striking vocal, but The Primitives manage to hold their own with an excellent choice of a song to cover.

Following that cover, we’re treated to another — the Rolling Stones’ classic ballad “As Tears Go By” — but rather than pay homage to the original, the band effortlessly turns the song into … a number you might have sworn The Primitives wrote themselves! This should have been put into the original album’s track list — the mood, style and arrangement give a whole new dimension to the song as one of the band’s own “upbeat music with downbeat lyrics” signature style.

The next track, “I Almost Touched You,” really tries hard to be a different sort of number, getting back to the bass dominance we haven’t heard for a while, married to a lyric about an (unsuccessful) creeper and his quest.

The next three tracks offer alternative versions of the album track “Secrets.” The first is the original demo, which grooves just as well, but lacks the nicer intro of the album version. Godlike producer and remixer Zeus B Held finally got his hands on a Primitives track, and his 12” inch keeps the original intents while bringing Paul’s backing vocals up in places, but otherwise keeps the original’s speedy, 60s style intact. He drops some instruments out periodically for showcasing effects, and breaks out some lyrics for repeating/highlighting, squeezing an extra 42 seconds in compared to the original.

The 12” Dub mix of the song gives the rest of us a chance to karaoke this fun number at our next groovy party. For best results, you’d better have your own harmonizing boy-and-girl singers to try and hold your own against the (completely absent) original vocals.

The bonus tracks draw to a close with another fabulous cover, this time the 1957 Lieber-Stroller number “You’re So Square (Baby I Don’t Care),” originally made famous by that Elvis Presley fellah. That bassline must have proven irresistable to new bassist (and producer) Paul Sampson, and he certainly brings the low notes to life. Tracy sometimes has to fight to be heard over the bass-and-guitar attack, but the song works well with her lower register and points back to the influences the band wears on their sleeve.

Next time: tracks Galore!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Primitives – Bloom! The Full Story 1985-1992 (Disc 2)

Lovely, plus bonus tracks (Cherry Red, 2020)

A terrific album with absolutely awful art (front and back).

THE OVERVIEW

Finally, after doing all the right things a band that knows they are good should do, a Real Record Company put them back in the studio to make a proper album and proper singles on a proper label, and the result was its own one-word review: Lovely.

If you are reading this and somehow haven’t heard the band, it’s airy, jangly guitar pop with a 60’s influence, a girl singer, and — if you lean in and listen close — a hint of darkness in the lyrics you’re not really supposed to pay attention to. It’s the sort of stuff radio stations of the commercial variety should’ve played regularly, especially in the summertime, but never did really. Thank heavens for college radio.

You won’t find a full review of Lovely here — if you’re reading this, you very likely already have a copy (at least, you should have a copy). That said, we’ll compare the (many) songs on the official debut album to the various versions that appeared prior to this, and examine the included bonus tracks.

The band’s original, heavier “wall of (guitar)” sound has officially given way to a catchy “indie pop/jangle pop,” vibe, but that C86 influence still creeps in occasionally. The album was oddly overseen with an “executive producer” (their agent, Wayne Morris), but in fact it was produced largely by second guitarist Paul Sampson and engineer/producer Mark Wallis, working together.

Though not a member of The Primitives, Wallis has had an incredible career producing acts across a wide spectrum of 80s and later rock. Oddly, Lovely was his only credit with this band.

THE ALBUM

As you might expect, the gang put their best foot forward and kicked off Lovely with the single “Crash.” It’s fun to compare the original demo to this beautifully perfected single; the first version started off with a very Joy Division emphasis on bass, setting a dark mood for the song, which is (to be fair) about the breakup of a relationship.

By contrast, the lead off track on the album starts with wonderfully 60s-flavoured jangly guitar, with a harsh bass/second guitar note cutting the intro short with a “brake” effect, and getting into the song itself. A growly guitar bed of melody and counter-melody plus a rock-solid bassline marry themselves to an unstoppable beat, and echoed Tracy’s vocals (softly backed with Paul’s presence) hums along in what the a music press article called “the perfect single by the perfect band.”

“Spacehead” gets a big-beat sound on drums this time, and we can finally make out Tracy’s vocals clearly. Both versions have the lovely “sha-la-la-la-la” mantra to keep this psych-influenced number grounded in beach blanket bliss.

“Carry Me Home” is a re-recorded version that still features lead vocals by songwriter Paul Court. Tracy comes in on some backing vocals, but only occasionally (as with the ‘87 Album Sessions version). The album version ups the “pop” quotient and tempo a bit to make it a better number.

This brings us to “Shadow,” which gets a radical revamp on Lovely compared to the “Guitar Version” we got on Disc 1. This time, the band goes all-out on the Indian influence. After a short menacing guitar buzz (probably meant to emulate the hiss of a cobra), the tablas kick right in and instantly give the song a more hypnotic quality, complemented nicely by Tracey’s mysterious vocal. The lead guitar from the original version can be heard way in the background, but this version is just way better and more atmospheric in every way.

Next up is “Thru the Flowers,” which we have heard two previous versions of back on Disc 1. The first version was on a self-produced EP that almost but not quite drowned Tracy behind a waterfall of guitar, the second was the “new version” with considerably more restrained and melodic guitar and better vocals, recorded for a Lazy Records single, and now we get the official album version.

The new version is like a cross between the previous two — bringing back the “crunchy” guitar intro and sporadic reappearance that will remind you of the demo version, but apart from a bit more echo its quite similar to the “New Version,” with an extra guitar instrumental break and still better vocal production. All three versions flirt (to some degree) with psychedelia touches, but never quite get there.

“Dreamwalk Baby” gets a considerably snazzed-up version compared to the “1987 Version” from Disc 1. Both version rollick along, but the album cuts puts the guitars behind Tracy as it should do, but is otherwise quite similar. I do miss the synth touch on the original, however.

Another song redone from the 1987 sessions is “I’ll Stick With You.” The 1987 version still had the crunchier guitar, but thankfully as co-equal with the vocals. What’s interesting to me (at least) in comparing these versions is how little the songs themselves changed; just the arrangement and production is really different for the most part. The band knew they had solid material, even as often as the word “hey” is repeated in a lot of them.

Whoever put the packaging and liner notes together for Bloom! somehow overlooked the next track, the new song “Way Behind Me,” but nonetheless it is in fact there, as it was on the album. It’s a great song, and there’s not much more to say about that. By this point, The Primitives have a signature sound, and most songs are clever variations on that sound.

“Nothing Left” gets a hell of a great intro compared to the original demo, which just jumped right into the lyric. The album version tracks closely with the “1987 Version” (which was informed by the “Sounds Version”), but just lacks the propelling energy of the album version with its ticked-up tempo. Again, it’s fun to hear how the song matures.

Tracey sings the lead of the instrumental break, which was a genius idea, and puts more passion into the chorus. This is the best version of them all, and the slightly-rearranged lyric is the icing on this cake. Like “Crash,” it’s a perfect song, done perfectly.

Likewise, “Out of Reach” gets its energy from a urgent tempo. Paul’s accompaniment of Tracy at key points only adds to the enjoyment. Like most of their best songs, it marries a nihilist lyric with deliriously happy jangle pop. There is more Paul on backing vocals in the “1987 version,” and a different arrangement, but it’s still the same great song.

“Ocean Blue” is a great change of pace at this point in the album, a slower and dreamier number, and features touches of drone and gentle percussion here and there. It follows very closely the “London Astoria single” version, but was re-recorded for the album.

After the new song “Run Baby Run,” we get to the album version of “Don’t Want Anything to Change,” in a more restrained version that offers some piano (!) for the first and only time on the album. I actually prefer the “1987 Version” to the album version, for once.

Lovely closes with the fuzzy surf rocker, “Buzz Buzz Buzz,”which gets a quick snare intro before the buzzsaw guitars take over. As with the two previous versions, Paul Court takes lead with Tracy doubling him. Again, it’s a very close remake of the original album sessions.

THE BONUS TRACKS

We start with some of the b-sides from the “Crash” single. The A-side was of course the album version of “Crash,” but came with three b-sides — the album track of “I’ll Stick With You,” the “Crash” demo version, and an all-new song, “Things Get in Your Way,” which starts off kind of oddly but really grows on you. Only “Stick” and “Things” are here on Disc 2 as bonus tracks, since we’ve already gotten the demo verion of “Crash” on Disc 1.

A (slightly) alternative version, from a John Peel session.

The remainder of the tracks in the bonus section for Lovely consist of an amalgamation of the a- and b-sides of the “Out of Reach” single. The UK 12-inch versions contained the remixed (and sped-up slightly) 1’54” version of “Out of Reach,” the album version of the same song (20 seconds longer), and two live tracks: “Really Stupid” and “Crash.”

The 7” version of the UK single had the shorter version of “Out of Reach” and live versions of “Dreamwalk Baby,” “Really Stupid,” and “Crash.”

Of these, the big treat of the b-sides is to be found here and on the CD-single version: a b-side live cover of Iggy Pop’s “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” which originally appeared nowhere else, but eventually turned up on the previous Primitives anthology CD sets. It sounds a lot like the earlier “wall of guitar” incarnation of the band, and of course if you’ve not heard a woman singing it, that’s kind of novel as well. It’s the final track on Disc 2, and a wrap on Lovely.

Next time: Pure delight!

Posted on by chasinvictoria

The Primitives – Bloom! The Full Story 1985-1992 (Disc 1)

The Lazy Years (Cherry Red, 2020)

THE PREFACE

Okay, this one is an ambitious 5-CD undertaking, and needs a little bit of backstory before we can get into it properly. The Primitives kickstarted their career by recording singles on their own record label, Lazy Records. This lasted from 1985 to 1987. They achieved enough success to get signed by RCA in ‘87, which released their past and subsequent material until their (first) breakup in 1992.

Jump ahead to 2013, and Cherry Red released a two-CD compilation of that early material called Everything’s Shining Bright: The Lazy Recordings 1985-1987. That set covered all the singles and b-sides, some live demos, some previously-unreleased sessions from ‘87, one bonus track they cut for UK mag Sounds, and a 15-song concert at the Institute of Contemporary Arts called “Live at the ICA 15-Aug-87.”

The reason I mention this is that all of the material on Everything’s Shining Bright — except for the 15-track live gig — are also on Bloom!’s first CD of the box set, which has been dubbed “The Lazy Years.” The running order is slightly rearranged, but it’s the same material. If you’re an obsessive Primitives collector, you’ll want both ESB and Bloom. If you can live without the live gig, skip ESB and just buy Bloom.

THE MUSIC

Disc 1 kicks off with five demo tracks, three of which were re-done for Lovely: “Crash,” “Spacehead,” and “Nothing Left.” “Crash” is quite basic but still insanely catchy, and was improved to perfection for the eventual album version. The demos for “Across My Shoulder,” “Spacehead,” and “Really Stupid” are similarly basic, but the production quality steps up noticeably for the demo of “Nothing Left.”

The band then put out a four-track EP called Through the Flowers, and the improvement in production heard in the “Nothing Left” demo is heard in these tracks. Paul Court’s guitar lines are more dominant — equal to, rather than buried by, Steve Dulligan’s bass lines. Peter Tweedie’s drums weren’t quite so “thuddy” anymore, and Tracy Tracy’s (Tracy Cattell) vocal were were more prominent, though still playing second fiddle to the guitar and bass.

The EP kicked off with the catchy title track, Tracy doing her own backing vocals as well as lead. “Across My Shoulder” was also improved, but “She Don’t Need You” is a fairly forgettable entry — only notable by the first appearance of Court as backup singer.

Court went further on the final track “Lazy” by taking lead himself. Tracy backs him up only on the song’s final lyric.

On balance, it was a pretty strong recorded debut. At this stage of the game, the band can’t really be called “jangly guitar pop” as the might have be labeled further down the road; they sound much more like C86 contemporaries The Wedding Present or even a happier version of Joy Division, only with a pixieish female singer instead of those two bands’ more dour male vocalists.

A three-track single showcased the first “proper” version of “Really Stupid,” complete with a nice touch of echo on Tracy’s voice. The second “A-Side” of the single, “We Found a Way to the Sun” is the song where the band starts to sound like the RCA studio band they would become.

“Where the Wind Blows” joins the other two tracks in sounding like a fully-gelled combo that can’t stop writing and realizing great guitar-driven songs. It also caused the music press to sit up, take notice, and fall in love with the band.

The next three-track single lead off with “Stop Killing Me,” and continued the party with “Buzz Buzz Buzz,” which brought in a hyperactive bit of twang to the mix (!). The b-side, “Laughing Up My Sleeve” starts with a bit of studio noise and a count-in, with Court taking lead vocal once again, with Tracy duetting in parts, ending with a rave-up and guitar freak-out on the last line.

It’s pretty amazing to hear a band come together this well before they’d even been signed to a proper label, but the group could already do no wrong with the ever-fickle UK music press at the time, which — again — is kind of astonishing.

The next single, “Ocean Blue” b/w “Shadow (Guitar Version)” were, amazingly, given away to attendees at a gig at the London Astoria. The a-side is a languid wash of voice and music that actually does remind me a bit of the later band known by that moniker, which formed not long after the Primitives.

The b-side is exactly what it says on the tin — the vocals are there, but the guitar is the star of this show. Some nice whisper and echo effects on this version, and then … it goes all 60s Bollywood on us with sitar and such! Super cool. I can’t believe I’d never heard this version until I bought Everything’s Shining Bright!

The 1986 “Thru the Flowers” self-recorded single got a re-do in ‘87 with a “New Version,” which again strongly reflects their sound getting refined and production style defined — gone is the “wall of guitar,” and now all the elements play nicely together — with even a touch of (synth) strings (!) .

The b-side of the new single was “Everything Shining Bright,” and it shifted gears for a more driving sound, pushing Tracey back in the mix (with Frank on backing vocals), but we still get clear separation of the guitar tracks, with the bass and drums operating as a single unit.

In a promotional effort, the band recorded another version of “Nothing Left” for a vinyl EP put out by UK mag Sounds. This is a considerably better effort than the more crudely-recorded demo version, but there’s no way for this band to perform the song poorly, they know its a hit in the making, and they persued it.

Possibly inspired by the Sounds EP opportunity, the band opted to re-record seven of their songs as an self-produced “demo package” on their own label, Lazy Records. This included some all-new songs, and a new version of “Buzz Buzz Buzz” and yet another version of “Nothing Left.”

The effort paid off — they got signed to RCA on the polish of the material and the strength of their trade-paper praise.

The demo package (referred to here as “1987 version(s)” kicks off with the debut of “I’ll Stick with You,” which puts Tracy up front and properly mixes the bands instruments and backing vocals. Also debuting here is “Dreamwalk Baby” (notable for the return of synth string touches). Both have nice touches of vocals from Court and Tracy doubling herself here and there.

The new version of “Buzz Buzz Buzz” isn’t really new at all, though Court’s vocal is mixed more prominently (Tracy is just barely present). Sonically the mix is much clearer, but seems identical to the version we previously heard on this disc.

Not quite likewise, “Nothing Left” (‘87) is clearly a new version, with doubled Tracy vocals, and some nicer guitar strumming. It’s similar to, but distinct from, the Sounds version, and of course much improved from the original demo. It’s still lacking some magic though, which we’ll have wait until the version from Lovely to get.

Future hit “Out of Reach” gets its debut in this ‘87 package, and is still not quite what it could be but all the ingredients are there. It’s easy to see why RCA execs jumped on this band.

Also debuting here is “Carry Me Home,” with Paul on lead. At this point, the music being good is a given, and the difference between “pleasant album track” and “potential single” is solely in how well the lyrics fit the music. Likewise, new song “Don’t Want Anything to Change” has some elements going for it (like more piano than we’ve heard thus far), but it’s definitely not a single, and even ends on kind a confused chord, like a question mark asking “so are we signed or not?”

Thankfully for us all, the answer was “yes.”

Next time: Lovely plus bonus tracks!