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

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!