The Spangle Maker

I’m not a superstitious person. I don’t have any routines or beliefs about black cats or knocking on wood. We were taught to salute a magpie when we were kids but I’m not sure why and I stopped doing it decades ago. I’m not religious either. I tend to require scientific or empirical evidence for the existence of things and religion doesn’t fit into that for me. I understand why religion works for other people and I can see why it brings comfort especially when dealing with death and questions about the afterlife. 

I was out cycling on Sunday morning. I try to get out on my bike every weekend and do a couple of hours on the roads. One of my routes can bring me back past the cemetery where Isaac is buried. From one of the roads, especially in winter when the hedges are bare, I can see him from the road more or less, the line of graves at the top of rise clearly visible. At first I couldn’t cycle past without stopping and going in to see him but now I can ride past, look to my right, nod or wave, and keep going. We usually go down to see him once a week anyway so I don’t feel compelled to call in on him every time I’m riding past.

There’s a bus route that runs down the road too. It drops people at the end of the road near the cemetery and then carries on towards Lymm. Isaac loved public transport- buses, Manchester’s trams, trains all ticked his boxes- and it’s amazing how many times we’ve stood at his graveside and seen the bus run past in the distance, all the more amazing because there are only two an hour. It always makes me smile to see it, and in a way it’s become Isaac’s bus (I know that the appearance of the bus is entirely coincidental, that it's not appearing because we are there or because of Isaac. Confirmation bias is real).

When Isaac died a friend gave us some wind chimes. She said we should hang them in the garden and when the breeze makes them move and chime, we’d think of him. Which they do and in a good way. 'Oh, hello Isaac', Lou sometimes says when she's out in the garden and it happens. Again, I don’t think that the chimes are actually Isaac trying to make contact from beyond the grave but it does happen as our friend said and it’s a nice reminder of him, one that brings a smile.

On Sunday morning I wasn’t planning on going to see Isaac as part of my bike ride but hadn’t fully decided which route to take to get home. I stopped at some traffic lights on the outskirts of Lymm and immediately a white feather dropped out of the sky and landed on the road right in front of me. I turned my head to the left and in the hedge next to me was a robin, looking at me. It fluttered and flew off. Some people believe that white feathers are a sign that someone is watching over you, a message from the deceased. Some believe that robins are the dead visiting us, that they appear when loved ones are nearby. 

My scientific head tells me that neither are very likely (and that if Isaac was trying to contact us he wouldn't necessarily appear as a white feather or a robin) but the combination of the two at the same time startled me a little. A mile or two further on I pulled into the lanes that run near the cemetery and Isaac’s bus appeared from round the bend in front of me. At that point I took the signs for what they seemed to be- ‘alright, Isaac, alright' I thought to myself, almost saying it out loud, 'I’m coming'. I cycled to the cemetery, said hello, had a little tidy up of his grave and then headed for home.

The Spangle Maker

The Spangle Maker was on a Cocteau Twins EP from April 1984, a slow burning sea of noise that breaks into a crashing, swooning torrent of reverb, guitars and Liz Fraser's otherworldly voice, a song that almost feels like someone making contact from another realm. 

Monday's Long Song

The first signs of spring are in the offing- daffodils showing their yellow heads and blossom tentatively appearing on trees. It's forecast to be a return to winter this week with snow and ice. I'm done with winter now, I need some warmth and some sunshine. 

I've posted two shoegaze/ ambient techno remixes recently, the Future Sound Of London remix of Curve last Monday and the Reload remix of Slowdive two weeks before that. Here's a third, Spooky's 1994 of Undertow by Lush. By 1994 Lush had moved on from the shimmering, FX drenched early sound to something more radio friendly. Their Hypocrite single came with this remix, a nine minute version of a song from their album Split. Lots of chopped up guitar chords, the sound of the FX pedals as much as the guitars themselves, feedback, ambient noise, a lovely looped bass part with a fragment of vocal floating on top, all underpinned by a crunchy drumbeat. 

Undertow (Spooky Remix)

Music Is The Answer

It would be overly dramatic to say that music has saved my life this year but there's no doubt it has been there to pull me through and has provided moments where I have been, temporarily, transported out of myself. Grief has been permanent- changing but still permanent- and music has been one of the ways through which I have been lifted out of it, even if only for a few minutes. 

Back in December 2021, in the week or two immediately after Isaac died, I didn't listen to any music. The grief was so raw and so harsh, so present in my body. I never knew that emotional pain could be so physically painful, that it could actually hurt so badly. There was a Saturday afternoon in December were I sat in our back room. It seemed like it was dark all day and that that particular Saturday afternoon would drift on endlessly forever. Eventually I played a record from the pile near my feet, Promise by SUSS, which I'd bought not long previously (although it came out in 2020). SUSS play ambient Americana/ ambient country, and the album is a quiet wash of gentle drones and sounds, pedal steel, e-bow guitar, mandolin and so on, with loops. If I remember correctly, I just needed something to take away the silence in the room, ambient music to provide something else to focus on while sitting staring into the room. 

Home

As the afternoon wore on I was able to sit on the sofa and listen to wordless, largely ambient music and it helped in some way. I played both sides of Promise and when it finished I plugged my phone into the stereo and played what was then the latest in Richard Norris' monthly Music For Healing ambient releases, December. The music couldn't take the pain away but it seemed to provide something, a salve of some kind. After forty minutes of Music For Healing I pulled out a record from the pile near to me, the records that were either most recently bought or taken from the shelves because I wanted to listen to them- the pile was all from before Isaac's death. A few records in was the recent re- issue of Victorialand by Cocteau Twins. The gauzelike guitars, ambient-ish haze and Liz Fraser's voice all became part of that afternoon. 

The Thinner The Air

During 2022 I've been to lots of gigs, more than in any single since the late 80s/ early 90s I think, when gig going was cheap and weekly. Some were bought as presents last Christmas- we had no time to do any real Christmas shopping for each other in the aftermath of Isaac's death. In January I saw Half Man Half Biscuit at the Ritz. A month later we saw John Cooper Clarke with Mike Garry and Luke Wright at the Bridgewater Hall. I saw John Cooper Clarke again in November at the Apollo supporting Squeeze courtesy of a friend with a spare. A few weeks ago the same friend gave me a ticket for Stereolab at the New Century Hall. In between I've seen a revelatory Ride doing Nowhere at the Ritz, Paul Weller at the Apollo, Andy Bell upstairs at Gullivers, The Charlatans doing Between 10th And 11th in full and then the hits at the New Century Hall, Echo And The Bunnymen in imperious form at Manchester's Albert Hall, Ian McCulloch solo (with a band) at Nantwich Words and Music Festival, Pete Wylie and Wah! at Night And Day, Warpaint (also at the Albert Hall), Pet Shop Boys at the arena and Primal Scream at Castlefield Bowl. Quite a few of these were courtesy of the generosity of friends, something I'm really grateful for. 

At some of these gigs I've cried, sometimes completely unexpectedly and overhwlemingly. At Echo And The Bunnymen in February the opening chords and first verse/ chorus of Nothing Lasts Forever reduced me to a mess of tears, I almost dissolved completely. In September The Charlatans' North Country Boy made me cry, Mike Garry's poetry did it, Pete Wylie did it more than once, Pet Shop Boys too with Being Boring. None of these tears have been a bad thing, they've all hit an emotional spot that connected me to Isaac in some way. As well as the tears (and the looks from other gig goers that a middle aged man crying at a gig can bring, followed by me shrugging and smiling) these gigs have provided moments where I've been transported out of myself for a while- for a song or for an hour. Good gigs can do that anyway, provide an act of communion between band and crowd, between music and people, but the act of being transported away somewhere else is a magical one and not much else has been able to do it this year. 

In October I DJed at the Golden Lion in Todmorden as part of The Flightpath Estate group, five of us supporting and warming up for David Holmes. The memories of that afternoon and evening still linger and of Holmes' set in that packed pub, four hours of dance music, the transportative effect of music once again lifting me up and out of myself. 

In a year where grief and pain have been ever-present, where the physical manifestations of bereavement have been there almost every single day, where the loss of Isaac has been such a huge sucking black hole in our lives, music in all its forms- that long ambient afternoon last December, experienced live at gigs, listened on record, streamed through the computer, listened to via headphones while out walking, bought from Bandcamp and burned to CD to play in the car, played on a tinny portable speaker on a balcony in Gran Canaria in July- has often been the answer. It won't bring Isaac back- nothing will- but at times it makes being without him something that can be borne or briefly make the loss and his absence fade for a while. 

Vapour Trail, the final song from Ride's Nowhere when it came out back in 1990 and the set closer at the 30th anniversary tour, was a beautiful moment at the Ritz, a crowd of middle aged and their late teenage/ early twenties children singing along to the swirling guitars, pounding drums and Andy Bell's declaration of love. Music is the answer. 

Vapour Trail

Saturday Theme Seventeen

The World Cup should be on now, in normal circumstances. Covid massively affected international sports tournaments of recent years- the 2020 Euros were played in 2021 for example. But the 2022 World Cup not being played now, in June and July, is not a Covid decision or a sporting one, it's a financial/ corruption one. FIFA in their wisdom decided that Qatar should host the 2022 World Cup. It's much too hot to play in Qatar in the summer so it's not being held until November and December. Qatar has no footballing history or heritage to speak of and while taking the game to corners of the world where football is a noble idea, there's little doubt that the money pouring into FIFA from the oil rich Middle Eastern theocracy made the move easier for the FIFA committee to make. Then there's the number of deaths from slave labour used to build the stadia to think about (Qatar claims thirty seven migrant workers died constructing the stadia. The Guardian puts the figure closer to 6, 500). Homosexuality is illegal in Qatar. Human rights abuses are widely documented. There are stories of state sponsored terrorism. It's probably best avoided by all concerned- but it won't be.  

In 1986 Colourbox released their Official World Cup Theme, to time with the tournament in Mexico. Colourbox are one of the 80s unsung heroes, signed to 4AD and sounding nothing like their labelmates combing reggae and soul influences, beat boxes, sampling, synths, pop and dub- and on their World Cup Theme making something that could be described as jaunty. 

The Official Colourbox World Cup Theme

Five Thousand

Today is the occasion of post number five thousand. When I started this blog in January 2010 I thought I'd give it a year and see how it went. That deadline passed and I just kept going, and here we are today, five thousands posts in. I don't have any songs (that I can think of) about the number 5000 so instead here's some song title maths- five times a thousand. Nothing too difficult- this isn't the number round on Countdown. 

The first is from the best band to come out of Burnage, Factory's Stockholm Monsters. Five O'Clock is from Alma Mater, released in 1984, the deliberate greyness of early 80s Factory beginning to be coloured in- a keyboard part and a drum machine ticking away, and some brilliantly untutored vocals. 

The second is from 1992 and Pale Saints, the 4AD signed shoegazers who rode in to massive acclaim with their debut in 1990 and the Sight Of You single. Their follow up, In Ribbons, closes with this wonderfully dreamy song A Thousand Stars Burst Open.  

Five O'Clock

A Thousand Stars Burst Open

Half An Hour Of Liz Fraser

Liz Fraser's voice, whether with The Cocteau Twins or guest appearances with other artists, is a unique, almost miraculous thing. Trying to describe it is fairly pointless. It swoops and soars and has a magical, otherworldly quality. Sometimes it's gossamer thin, distant and a part of the shimmering, hazy swirl of the Cocteau Twins records, the lyrics difficult to work out and impressionistic. Sometimes it's much bolder and in the foreground, clear and insistent. Here's this week's half hour mix (actually thirty eight minutes) of Liz Fraser's voice, variously with Cocteau Twins, This Mortal Coil, Ian McCulloch, Massive Attack, Harold Budd and Felt. 

Half An Hour Of Liz Fraser

• Cocteau Twins: Pearly Dewdrops' Drop
• Cocteau Twins: The Spangle Maker
• Ian McCulloch: Candleland
• Massive Attack: Teardrop (Mad Professor Mazaruni Vocal Remix)
• This Mortal Coil: Song To The Siren
• This Mortal Coil: Edit To The Siren (In The Valley Re- edit)
• Cocteau Twins: Cherry- coloured Funk
• Felt: Primitive Painters
• Harold Budd, Simon Raymonde, Robin Guthrie, Liz Fraser: Ooze Out And Away, Onehow

It's All Illusion Anyway

I'm following on from yesterday's Neil Young post with some Pixies and some more Neil. The first time I heard Winterlong was the cover version by Pixies on a tribute album to Neil called The Bridge which came out in autumn 1989. There was a brief rash of indie tributes to 60s artists compilations around this time- I had a tribute to The Byrds but at some point that has departed from my record collection and I remember a Jimi Hendrix one but I didn't buy that one. There were several Velvets ones too I think. They were very hit and miss. But The Bridge was well worth getting and holding onto featuring as well as Pixies, Soul Asylum, Victoria Williams, The Flaming Lips, Nikki Sudden, Loop, Nick Cave, Sonic Youth, Psychic TV, Dinosaur Jr, and Henry Kaiser. That list alone brings back the smell and feel of the Melody Maker's pages. There are plenty of good covers in that cast and Sonic Youth probably take the gold medal but Pixies absolutely nail Winterlong, Black Francis and Kim Deal duetting over some deliciously fried guitars. 

Winterlong

Neil's own version of the song was not released until Decade came out in 1977. He'd been sitting on it since at least 1970- apparently it was likely recorded in 1974 during the On The Beach sessions but it didn't fit on that album so he held it back. I first started buying Neil Young albums in summer 1988, taking advantage of the Price Cuts discount label that was widely available then- Harvest and After The Goldrush could both be bought new for £4.49, risk free purchases for a poor student. I don't remember getting a copy of Decade until many years later- triple albums were expensive and it wasn't easy to find. 

Neil takes Winterlong at a slower pace, his voice yearning for his lost love and the guitars and performance less manic with a pedal steel guitar in the instrumental break. It's gorgeous, right up there in terms of definitive Neil Young songs. 

Winterlong

There's some really good Pixies on TV clips from the late 80s, a period where they were unmissable and didn't really sound like anyone else. Surfer Rosa and Doolittle were a unique pair of albums, a band with a sound, a worldview and four very different members completely in tune with each other. The song's topics and lyrics were coming in from the outer reaches of Black Francis' imagination and together sounded like nothing else, the rhythms, the frantically scrubbed acoustic guitars, the dry, sparse sound with violent explosions, Joey's crazed solos and David's drumming plus Kim's sheer joy at playing/ singing- they had that chemistry that some bands find for a brief period that makes them briefly unique. I lost interest after Doolittle. They couldn't match it. Bossanova felt flat to me, a bit tamed, and I didn't bother with Trompe Le Monde. People tell me the re- union albums are worth getting but I don't have the interest, I don't need any Pixies albums other than Surfer Rosa and Doolittle (and Come On Pilgrim of course). They've appeared twice recently on TV programmes, firstly this clip of them playing on BBC 2's Late Show in 1989, Monkey Gone To Heaven played late at night with no audience other than Kirsty Wark or whoever was presenting that night and the camera crew.

The Late Show must have had some bookers who were well into their NME and Melody Maker at this point. Between 1988 and 1991 they were many memorable performances. The Cramps played a deadly two song set with Lux resplendent in black leather and bra in 1990, Jane's Addiction rocked out with Been Caught Stealing, R.E.M. did a stunning performance of Half A World Away and Belong in 1991, Public Enemy and Ice T both appeared and famously in 1989 The Stone Roses blew the sound limiter and as Tracey MacLeod tried to cover the show's blushes and move to the next item Ian Brown harangued the studio with shouts of 'amateurs, amateurs' eventually deciding 'we're wasting our time here lads'. 

This clip comes from British TV, not the Beeb. I'm not sure which ITV programme this was- Pixies doing Hey. 

While looking for all of that I found this, Pixies on Dutch TV in 1988, a five song set taken from Surfer Rosa. How good is this? Very very good.  

Throughout The Dark Months

My recent rediscovery of The Cocteau Twins continues. Last week I found myself in a record shop with some Christmas money burning a record sized and shaped hole in my pocket and among other things I bought a very nice re- issue of their 1986 mini- album Victorialand, a record of theirs I didn't already own. The Cocteau Twin's music is such an immersive experience despite being quiet at times and ethereal (to use a word that the music press often used about their sound). It demands you stop what you're doing and listen to it, not just have it on. 

Bassist Simon Raymonde was absent in 1986, involved in making the This Mortal Coil album. Robin Guthrie and Liz Fraser went ahead without him, making a largely acoustic album, stripped of basslines and percussion/ drums. It's a minimal, stripped bare Cocteau Twins, Guthrie's acoustic guitar, FX and melodies and Fraser's unique lyrics and vocals producing something approaching ambient- indie. Occasionally some sax or tuba joins in. It's beautiful and stark- like the polar caps that inspired much of the record. 

Throughout The Dark Months Of April And May

This song's title came from the commentary of a David Attenborough wildlife documentary about the Arctic and the album's title is the name of part of Antarctica claimed by the British in the 19th century. 

Swim To Me

The days are very strange at the moment. Wake up early, everything crashes back in a millisecond later. The anxious knot reappears in the stomach, the tightness in the chest. The realisation that emotional pain can be so physical, so bodily present. Lie in bed for ages because it seems better than facing the day. Then the morning disappears, you shake yourself into doing something and then suddenly it's going dark. Evening stretches out and it's bedtime. Repeat.

The funeral was attended by huge numbers of people, the wake too, and we gave him the send off he deserved. It was all consuming but now it's done- the planning, organisation and the detail and the tenseness of waiting for it- we're left the dealing with the absence of him. And Christmas less than a week away. I've only just really twigged that it's December. Time seemed to pause on the last day of November and now someone's unclicked the pause button and it's the 20th December. 

My unplanned Elizabeth Fraser vocal trip took me down to the inevitable end of that road yesterday when I played Song To The Siren, a three minute and thirty second wave of sadness and loss. 

Song To The Siren

This re- edited version by In The Valley is depending on your point of view either a crime or a beautifully Balearic, slightly dubby re- imagining of This Mortal Coil's cover of Tim Buckley's song. I'm going with the latter. 

Edit To The Siren

Spent Seventeen Pounds On Mushrooms For You

I've been a bit late on the uptake with this group and their name suggests we're running out of band names but there's no doubting what they do- Dry Cleaning formed after a karaoke party and six months later discovered a vocalist, Florence Shaw (who holds down day jobs as a visual artist, lecturer and picture researcher). Florence's vocals are spoken word, a bit indifferent to you and your life, eyebrows raised perhaps, casually narrating her subconscious ('love, anger, revenge, anxiety, the kitchen...'). Meanwhile the three musicians (Tom, Nick and Lewis) scratch, scape and bash away at guitar, bass and drums. Guitar riffs, post- punk basslines and dry drums, a bit of 80s jangle, some dubby sounds. It sounds like the music's come from jam sessions (in a good way) and they've honed in on the good points while Florence sits with sheets of paper waiting for her cue- 'a woman in aviators firing a bazooka' as she says in Scratchcard Lanyard. They're on 4AD who let's face it, usually know what they're doing.

Strong Feelings rides on a rumbling bass and hissing hi- hat and then a shaker. The guitar comes in, single notes, as Florence says 'I just want to tell you I have scabs on my head'. The Joy Division guitar riff builds up. Later on, after lines about Dutch landscape, an emo dead stuff collector and the repeated 'It's Europe', she drops in 'It seems like a lot of garlic/ Lonely beyond lovely/ You just want to be liked/ I like you/ Stay'. I'm not sure what it's all about but I really enjoy listening to it.  

Bug Eggs was recorded in summer 2020 and released summer 2021 after being available only as a bonus track. 'I was a toasted teenage peanut' Florence says and I think we all know how she feels.

Lorelei

Back to November 1984 today and a slice of glistening indie- pop from The Cocteau Twins. All those words and phrases the press used to describe their music- ethereal, dreampop, sonic cathedrals, angelic voices, diaphanous- are all cliches but also all very close to the mark. Shards of crystalline, heavily delayed guitar, a massively reverbed drum machine and Liz's stellar vocals are all present, front and centre. 

Lorelei was on Treasure, an album that the press raved about and was bought in large quantities- at the time it was 4AD's best selling record. The band hated it, Robin Guthrie calling it a product of an 'arty farty pre- Raphaelite' period he felt they got pushed into and Simon Raymonde their 'worst album by a mile'. But what do bands know? Listening to Treasure now and Lorelei specifically it sounds pretty wondrous. Like many of their 80s records it's a romantic and impressionistic, three people conjuring up something distinct and unique. 

Lorelei 

Chlorine Box

Two singles from 1990/ 1991 today, both of which I've posted before but neither of which I ever tire of hearing when they pop up on shuffle, in the sidebar on Youtube or when flicking through the 7" singles box. First from 1990 The High and their calling card Box Set Go...

Box Set Go

And then to follow Chlorine Dream from Spirea X...

Chlorine Dream (album version)

Both bands married 60s melodies, chiming Rickenbackers and a shuffly early 90s beat. Both were seen as offshoots of other bigger, more fashionable bands. Both could have been much bigger than they were but never got beyond the lower end of the charts and the lesser pages of the music press. These two songs alone justify their ongoing online existences in the pages of blogs like this one.

The High were from Manchester and signed to London Records in the mad dash to gobble up Manchester guitar bands. Guitarist Andy Couzens served his time in The Stone Roses before they began to gain any kind of acclaim outside south Manchester postcodes. He left following an argument with manager Gareth Evans and Ian Brown and John Squire about songwriting credits and royalties. The High recorded with Martin Hannett shortly before his death. Their 1990 debut album, Somewhere Soon, is well revisiting- Up And Down, Take Your Time, PWA and Dreams Of Dinesh all fizz and buzz in all the right places. Follow up single More... is also a lost classic. 

Spirea X were formed by Jim Beattie, a founder member of Primal Scream and 12 string guitar slinger. Chlorine Dream was their debut followed in May 1991 by Speed Reaction. They were very much a Brian Jones/ Love, speed cut with ecstasy type of band, who signed to 4AD so had the benefit of beautiful Vaughan Oliver sleeves to go with the songs. The album Fireblade Skies is a minor 1991 treat with an obligatory Arthur Lee cover (Signed D.C.) and some very 60s in the 90s song titles- Rollercoaster, Fire And Light, Confusion In My Soul, Nothing Happened Yesterday all spell fringes, love beads, Levi's cords and white denim jackets. 

Cherry Coloured

At the end of last week JC at The Vinyl Villain posted three songs by Cocteau Twins, the epically beautiful Pearly Dewdrops Drop and the two songs from the 12" single, The Spangle Maker and Pepper- Tree. By coincidence I'd recently pulled the band's 1990 album Heaven Or Las Vegas off the shelf, intending to give it a listen. The opening song, Cherry- coloured Funk, is a spellbinding and breath taking three minutes, a liquid, melting guitar riff played over the simplest of drum machine beats, a swirl of FX lying just behind. Liz Fraser's voice glides in on top, an otherworldly blur of words and then without warning a sudden soaring moment to a falsetto part that is . The guitar riff comes back again, round and round in its gently trippy, off kilter groove and Liz sings on- I've no idea what she's singing about and it really doesn't matter, the words are just part of the sound (I'm sure they meant something to Liz when she wrote them). The band was going through some churn at the time and there's a slight unease about the album, hints at the darkness of their personal lives (you can hear it in Cherry- coloured Funk) but there's also an energy about the songs and the rush bands get when they're on a creative roll and on fire. 

Cherry- coloured Funk

Ooze Out And Away

When people say/ write, 'see you on the other side' about Christmas, it feels very apt when you emerge from the fug of Christmas Day into Boxing Day, waking up to a house littered with presents and bits of wrapping paper and gift tags that didn't get put into the bin yesterday, dirty glasses and mugs, and a fridge full of leftover food. This song, a 1986 collaboration between Cocteau Twins and Harold Budd was playing on the kitchen stereo this morning when I made a cup of tea and decided all I really wanted for breakfast was some toast with Marmite.  

Ooze Out And Away, Onehow

Pressed

The Wolfgang Press were a post- punk band with industrial tendencies on 4AD who turned to face acid house in the late 80s and early 90s and made some avant- dance records up to 1995 when they abruptly stopped. They were labelled goth by the music press at times, a charge they always denied but there's no doubt that there's a gloomy element to their music. Unsurprisingly they benefitted from being remixed in the 90s, their sound lending itself to be being chopped up and rejigged by the likes of Adrian Sherwood, Barry Adamson, Jah Wobble, Apollo 440 and Sabres Of Paradise. I posted a song by them back in 2013, Ecstacy (released in 1985), but nothing since and bizarrely for this blog I've never posted either of the Sabres remixes. 

11 Years Sabres Main Mix 1

11 Years Sabres Main Mix 2

The Sabres remixes are both from 1994, that stage were Weatherall, Kooner and Burns were making really stoned sounding music, remixes that reek of clouds of marijuana smoke, hip hop drum loops, lots of echo and a guitar line or synth/ organ part winding it's way over the top. Head nodding stuff. 

The Jah Wobble remix of Chains is a different kind of fish completely, a very bright and spacey affair, BJ Cole's pedal steel guitar locating it way out west with the long whale sound noises and shimmering sound effects sounding like they're being beamed coming in from 50s science fiction film. A 90s breakbeat and sections of Michael Allen's growly vocals being dropped in, and Wobble's bass occasionally surfacing,  make for a something very enjoyable, not unlike listening to several radio stations all playing at the same time but weirdly in sync. 

Chains (Wobble Mix)

Special One

A list of records that I love out of all proportion to their importance or impact would include Special One by Ultra Vivid Scene, a single from the New York band's second album (released in 1990 so nothing to do with the self- proclaimed special one Jose Mourinho). Ultra Vivid Scene were largely the work of one man, Kurt Ralske, who made two albums for 4AD, both packed with alternative guitar songs, Velvets inspired melodies and Mary Chain style drums and bass. Special One is a brilliant little song, instantly bringing Vox teardrop guitars, valve amps and wraparound sunglasses to mind and has Kim Deal on backing vox singing the 'how do you think it feels?' line.

Special One

The Special One single was a four track e.p. Of the three B-sides this is the best, a slow crawl through the streets at dawn.

Lightning (72 BPM/4 A.M.)

Nothing really happened for Ultra Vivid Scene. Apparently they played some gigs in London to support the second album, Joy 1967- 1990, that were terrible, 4AD's staff begging the room full of journalists not to review them. The first self titled album still gets played round here from time to time as does Joy 1967- 1990. There was a third in 1992 called Rev which I've never heard.

Vaughan Oliver

Vaughan Oliver died yesterday aged 62. He was the man responsible for the creating the artwork that graced the sleeves of a slew of bands in the 1980s and 90s and the entire visual identity of 4AD. The selection above shows how distinctive, eye catching and beautiful his work was but also how varied. It helps that the music contained within the 12" by 12" squares above was always of the highest calibre- Lush, Pixies, This Mortal Coil, Cocteau Twins, Ultra Vivid Scene, MARRS, Colourbox, Pale Saints (and also Throwing Muses, The Breeders, AR Kane, Belly... the list goes on). From the days when buying records based on the label they were issued on was commonplace and when the artwork mattered as much as the music.

Here in 1991 are Lush performing their single Sweetness and Light at The Dome, shoegaze pop with a Manchester swing to the rhythm. Vaughan Oliver RIP.

You Made Me Realise

Each day on Facebook I post a link to that day's Bagging Area blogpost- I like to keep Mark Zuckerberg updated with music from the last few decades although he never comments himself or thanks me. When I published Tuesday's post- Galaxie 500's Blue Thunder from their 1988 On Fire album- a friend thanked me for reminding them of the song and album and posing the question 'why was 1988/89 such a fruitful time?' I replied and then thought about it a bit more.

The reason for the explosion of dance music and acid house in the years 1988-1989 has been well explored and well documented. In summary, in the north Mike Pickering had recently returned to Manchester from Belgium and headed Factory's A&R. He was also given control over the musical policy at the Hacienda. Dave Haslam's Temptation night was growing but from opening in 1983 the nightclub was often largely empty (and open almost every night). In its first few years it was more gig venue than nightclub. Pickering began to play the music that excited him, the new music coming out of the USA, house music from Chicago and techno from Detroit. At a similar time Shaun Ryder and friends developed a sideline to being Happy Mondays, importing ecstasy and selling it in the Hacienda. The combination of music, nightclub, youth and drugs quickly gathered steam. In the south a similar revolution took place but this time starting with four friends (who were also DJs) who spent a summer in Ibiza dancing to a wide variety of tunes, including some of those early house records, in open air nightclubs under Balearic skies fuelled by the same pills the Mondays had discovered. When they got back to the UK they decided to try to re-create this scene in London in the autumn- Paul Oakenfold, Nicky Holloway, Johnny Walker and Danny Rampling. Within months Spectrum, Shoom and The Trip opened. Acid house ensued.

The reasons for guitar music entering such a fruitful period between 1987 and 1989 are maybe slightly different. The bands putting records out in the late 80s were at the tail end of what had started with punk, in particular a model of Do It Yourself. An entire system of independent record labels was well established with a distribution model that got records into shops all over the country while avoiding the majors. In the US the bands inspired by punk had spent years criss-crossing the states building up a network, playing gigs in clubs and bars, meeting promoters, fans, fanzine sellers and the DJs from late night regional and college radio stations. In the UK John Peel existed as an outlet for even the most experimental and outlying bands and getting played by Peel was a reasonable ambition. The weekly music press (three papers remember, Sounds, NME and Melody Maker) had pages to fill, with opinionated and passionate writers and they held real sway and influence- NME Single Of The Week felt important. The post-punk period of roughly 1978-83 extolled being experimental, sounding like yourself and independent, leftfield, leftwing values. Technology was available and cheapish so recording a decent sounding demo tape was attainable. Cassettes were cheap and easy to reproduce and could be sent off to Rough Trade or Creation or 4AD or whoever. By 1988 this was all well established and bands had a mains to plug into, plus the back catalogues of the psychedelic groups of the 60s, the girl groups, the proto punks of The Stooges and The Velvet Underground, Nuggets and punk and its aftermath found cheaply in second hand shops or taped onto cassette with hand written inlay cards.

I think there are two other explanations- bear with me, if you're still reading and I fully understand if you've clicked off and gone elsewhere- and which are specific to the 1980s. Firstly (and Aditya agreed with this on Facebook) one reason for the boom in guitar music was state funding of bands and music- the dole and to some extent the student grant which sent young people from all backgrounds to university or polytechnic or art school. The dole and education grants gave people the income which bought them space to create. It wasn't much, there was just enough income to survive week to week but it was guaranteed as long as you met a few basic criteria (turn up at the job centre once a fortnight and sign on, turn up at lectures and hand an essay in once a term). Many of the British bands of the 80s came from dole culture. Some of the labels were funded by Thatcher's enterprise culture- there are several who got a business grant or loan to start up. As Aditya put it on Facebook yesterday 'You need a guaranteed income if you're going to try anything highly speculative, such as writing a 20 minute white out in the middle of You Made Me Realise'.

You Made Me Realise

Today's young people have to pay for their further education and the Tories have completely monetised university education, made it a financial transaction- what you are going to earn and how you are going to pay it back are the primary considerations. Leaving home to go to a new city, do a philosophy course, form a band, mess around and take your time doing it, are no longer possible (or valued). Trying to exist on the dole while putting together guitar, drums and bass seems increasingly unlikely.

The second explanation could be this- the 1980s were a polarised and confrontational period. You picked your side and it informed all your decisions. I saw a Tweet recently from someone disgusted by Morrissey and his appearance on US television wearing the badge of a minor British fascist organisation. The Tweeter said something along the lines of 'in the 80s The Smiths were my gateway into an outsider life, of books, music, cinema and politics. Morrissey formed my adult life'. As an aside the fact that The Smiths had split up in 1987 possibly also accounts for something here, a gap where they had been now existed. But to get back to the point, the polarised world of the 1980s meant that making experimental/challenging/lo-fi/home made/trippy/weirdo/out there/leftfield music was a way of life and a basic requirement. The mainstream was the enemy and to be avoided at all costs. Rick Astley, Phil Collins, Queen, Elton John, Michael Jackson, Billy Joel- whatever you think of these artists now (and I still can't understand why some of them have been allowed back in)- were to be repelled and pushed away from. Bands defined themselves by this, by being outsiders, by taking a stance. Every town had a nightclub that had an alternative night, usually a Monday, when it would otherwise be empty. The music was an alternative to the charts and the mainstream. Lionel Ritchie or My Bloody Valentine? Stock Aitken and Waterman or Creation, 4AD and Factory? Queen or Sonic Youth? Tango In the Night or Surfer Rosa? Bad or Bummed? Thatcher's Britain and Reagan's America and the glossy, bright, mainstream culture that it spewed forth brought about cultural reactions- the guitar groups instinctively knew this and responded in kind.

Ten years later this oppositional approach was gone- guitar groups, especially Oasis, sneered at what they saw as small time bands and a lack of ambition and wanted sales, number ones and stadium gigs. Naked ambition and a mainstream sound was in- Morning Glory and Urban Hymns are mid-tempo, smooth-edged, mainstream rock, rather than that gateway into a hidden world the Smiths fan I mentioned earlier found with guitar music.

Here are some Pixies.

Wave Of Mutilation (UK Surf Mix)

Monday's Long Song

At only six minutes forty-three seconds this isn't an especially long song but it came up on shuffle over the weekend and sounded immense. Released back in 1983 this is Colourbox's magnificent take on Baby I Love You So, an Augustus Pablo song from 1974 recorded by Jacob Miller, but updated by Martyn and Stephen Young making the most of early 80s technology- it doesn't sound dated all these years later either, that bassline alone is worth the price of admission. The guitar part is ace, not your standard reggae guitar part, the cymbals splash away and Lorita Grahame's vocal glides over the top.

Baby I Love You So (12" Version)

Sugar

I'm launching into what may be an ill conceived Friday series here at Bagging Area. Last Friday I posted several songs about honey- songs by Death In Vegas, The Jesus And Mary Chain, The Pastels and Spacemen 3. Today's musical foodstuff is sugar, delicious, addictive, lipsmacking sweet stuff (that a report recently said is the real cause of the modern obesity crisis in the western world). A quick search of my hard drive reveals I'm spoilt for choice when it comes to sugar.

The lightest song on The Stone Roses debut album from May 1989 was about a girl, a sugar spun sister, opening with John Squire's crystalline guitar chords and Ian's softly sung vocals. The chorus turns things a little in what seems on the surface to be a fairly simple love song- the sky going green, the grass blue, M.P.s involved in solvent abuse- all these things would happen before she is happy with him. There's a bit after the second chorus where there's a pause and in the gap Ian sings 'my hands..... are stuck to my jeans' which is very nicely done (and which for years I misheard as 'stuck to my dreams'). The sugar analogy is back at the end as Squire winds things up- she is the candy floss girl, he the sticky fingered boy.

(Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister

In 1997 Yo La Tengo put out a career highpoint, the double album I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One, an album which is a masterpiece of its kind. Sugarcube was in the middle of side 1 and later released as a single, 3 minutes 21 seconds of New York dreamy, soft noise perfection.

Sugarcube

Lyrically it's a bit more oblique than The Stone Roses sugar spun song but I think it's about the same thing ultimately...

'Whatever you want from me
Is what I want to do for you
Sweeter than a drop of blood
On a sugarcube
And though I like to act the part of being tough
I crumble like a sugarcube
For you'

More sugar vicar? 

AR Kane's sugar song came out in 1989 and is a lilting, off-kilter song, acoustic guitars and odd tunings and another case of sugar being a female who's a little too sweet.

Sugarwings

There's loads more sugar on my hard drive- The Orielles have a song from last year (with an Andrew Weatherall remix to boot) called Sugar Tastes Like Salt, Slowdive's recent triumph gave us Sugar For The Pill, there's some Balearic Sugar Water from Kamasutra, Echo And The Bunnymen's glorious 1987 single Lips Like Sugar and Secret Knowledge's Sugar Daddy, a 1994 epic from Kris Needs and Wonder. I think I've posted all of these before at some point. There's plenty more sugar in my record collection too but I'll wrap this up with one more sugary delight before our teeth fall out. Four years ago Timothy J Fairplay released a 12" in his Junior Fairplay rave guise, a back to the old skool circa 1990-1 retro-rave track that I love to pieces. Created using solely a breakbeat and a Korg 1, a vocal whoop and a stacatto 'yeah!', and then released on one sided purple vinyl, it is fun bottled, the future backwards. Sugar Puss. 



Now go and clean your teeth.