Volume 12 Side One - The Charlatans, The Wendys, The Dylans, Spirea X, Spacemen 3

Year of Release: 1991
Format: Double LP/ CD/ Cassette

A new dawn. Volume 12 of "Indie Top 20" launched with a new sleeve design, a new compiler (Tim Millington, not Chet and Bee) and no individual sleeve notes for each track but beyond that, not the sense that much had changed. Despite having the mysterious Millington on editorial duties, any number of the acts on "Volume 12" would have slotted neatly on to a previous volume, so very little seemed to be afoot.

"Volume 12" is occasionally referred to as the LP with an overload of shoegazing acts, but in reality there's a broad enough mix here. A few baggy bands get to have their final moments in the sun too, and it's a fair reflection of what was going on during the strange summer of late period baggy and high water mark shoegazing. Grunge had yet to break through in any meaningful sense, and while that would in time go on to become "the enemy" of all self-respecting British indie bands - if you were Damon Albarn, anyway - most of the early 1991 outrage was directed at those blasted middle-class shoegazing bands, so much so that Nicky Wire was moved to comment that Slowdive were "worse than Hitler". Tsk. We didn't know we were born, I tell you.

1. The Charlatans - Happen To Die (Dead Dead Good)

While a one-sided promotional copy of "Happen To Die" does exist, in reality this was best known to the public as track four off their "Over-Rising" EP - an effort which had the altogether jauntier and bouncier title track as the first sound off the grooves, which would have made a much more convincing opening track here too.

"Happen To Die" begins with mournful organ chords, the usual distinctive, high ended Charlatans bass playing sound, and an unlikely announcement from Tim Burgess: "Don't give me that disease/ I can't find my way out". Oho. Like "Then", then, it's another example of the band at their darkest and moodiest, showing a sensitive and woebegone side that casual listeners of the group are probably barely aware exists.

There's a slightly weak production here, though, and the whole thing sounds as if it could have done with more time in the studio oven - while the bass runs and the rhythm patterns are enticing, the song itself never seems to quite scale the heights it should and almost feels like a live run-through in places. The ending in particular seems uncertain, awkward and as if the loose threads hadn't quite been tied up yet.

After this, the "Indie Top 20" series takes the confusing and inconvenient step of ignoring The Charlatans for some time, meaning we miss out on "Weirdo", the fantastic and largely forgotten "Me In Time", and "Tremelo Song", all of which knock "Happen To Die" into a cocked hat. So it goes.



2. The Wendys - Pulling My Fingers Off (Factory)

The Wendys were probably some of the most unfortunate bastards ever to grace the back-end of the baggy scene. Not only did these Edinburgh boys move to Manchester just as the scene started to fade, they also signed to Factory Records, who were in serious financial trouble at the time. I'm tempted to say that they might as well have recorded their debut LP "Gobbledygook" and left most of their copies on a garden wall somewhere - it probably would have had more exposure that way (to the elements if nothing else).

They've often been highlighted as Madchester failures since, but in fact a lot of their work has a very intricate atmosphere, a moody, chiming soundscape somewhere between The Roses and The Bunnymen. "Pulling My Fingers Off" is a great example, combining a jingle jangle melody with dark rhythm patterns and morbid, absurdist lyrics. It doesn't make an immediate impression, but over subsequent listens slowly worms its way into your brain, nagging away with its warm, intricate sound. The single that preceded it, "The Sun Is Going To Shine For Me Soon" is equally rich and rewarding.

Inevitably their goose was cooked when Factory died a death, and they've found themselves relegated to the footnotes of the era since - but they still had enough respect and enough of a following to reform in 1999 to release the "Sixfootwingspan" LP.



3. The Dylans - Lemon Afternoon (Situation Two)

I've been waiting a long time to write this entry. Way back in August, when I published the first ever proper entry on this blog, I wrote about Sheffield's One Thousand Violins. Guitarist Colin Gregory of that group joined The Dylans, who we are only just talking about now - six months later in blog time, but over four years in real time.

Like The Wendys, The Dylans frequently found themselves ducking critical flak for being a vaguely Madchestery band existing outside of a socially acceptable time period for that kind of noise, in much the same manner that provincial psychedelic pop groups releasing singles in late '68 and 1969 were often greeted with music press sneers.  Now that such considerations of what's a hot sound and what's not have faded away as we take a backwards view from our rear view mirrors, it's possible to have a more enlightened view of their work, and "Lemon Afternoon" is genuinely beautiful. Utterly Byrds inspired, unbelievably derivative, and very simple, naturally, but wonderful nonetheless. Taking a droning, repetitive riff, and layering innocent, luscious folk-rock vocals on top, it sucks you into its dreamworld instantly, the shimmering guitars and hypnotic rhythms causing you to jump on the nearest lilo and float downstream.

This is one of those tracks I still play at least a few times a year, and still enjoy hugely whenever the mood takes me. Had it been released a mere year or two before, there's a strong possibility it would have received a much more enthusiastic audience.

The Dylans abandoned their psychedelic sound in 1994 for a harder-edged rock sound, and promptly sounded more relevant but less welcoming. Elements of their 1991 noise, though, including this, "Godlike", "Planet Love" and "Mary Quant In Blue" are all well worth tracking down, and have a warmth and innocence that's immediately compelling.



4. Spirea X - Chlorine Dream (4AD)

Jim Beattie quit Primal Scream in 1988, and two years later Spirea X (named after a Primal Scream B-side he himself penned) were born, with the open ambition to completely outscore and out-perform Gillespie and company. But titter ye not, dear readers, for Primal Scream in 1988 were leather-trousered no-hopers putting out records which could only be fairly described as "quite nice in places, rather dreary in others". Anyone bailing from the group at that point in their careers clearly had fair reasons.

While Alan McGee was allegedly hurt that Beattie jumped to 4AD for Spirea X's material, in terms of success the group's performance didn't match their confidence and he probably saved himself some money. "Chlorine Dream" was an easy Indie Top 10 hit, though, and slots next to "Lemon Afternoon" fantastically well in terms of arrangement - it's another psychedelic, Byrdsian drone which drips atmosphere and warms the heart. Sadly, though, it's not quite as good and doesn't quite stand up to its nearest neighbour - which makes it a slightly cruel, if entirely logical, piece of track sequencing.

Spirea X would release one more single, then the LP "Fireblade Skies" which was critically well received, but didn't sell convincingly. 4AD dropped them in 1992, and they split up in response, leaving Jim Beattie to re-emerge in Adventures In Stereo.



5. Spacemen 3 - Big City (Fire)

By this point, Spacemen 3 were barely a functioning unit. Their final album "Recurring" was essentially a split effort, with Peter Kember taking on one half of the LP while Jason Pierce dealt with the other, making it sound like a "White Album" for the early nineties, with the reverse magnetic force of two egos pushing away from each other while the rest of the group did their best to deal with the situation.

"Big City" was a Kember effort inspired by his visit to a "Rave", and is essentially a very, very Spacemen 3 take on that House party sound. Which means that it's hypnotic as well as squelchy, and riddled with scaling, spiritual church organ sounds as well as incantations (kind of) to get on the dancefloor. It really sounds more like an early nineties take on krautrock than Acid House as a result, and while that may not have been the intention, it does still stand up as a result, whereas a lot of the earliest Acid sounds don't. If there's a problem with "Big City" at all, it's that it's full ten minute version feels unnecessarily lengthy, and could do with at least a few minutes trimmed off its running time. The video edit below is perfect (and this compilation could certainly have crammed an extra track on to its CD version if that version had been used instead).

After this single saw the light of day, Spacemen 3 effectively ceased to be, and Kember and Pierce walked off in different directions to have two very different careers. Kember would continue his droning psychedelic ambitions in Spectrum, whereas Pierce would continue forward with Spiritualized, amassing greater critical and commercial success on the way.

Indie Top 20 Vol 8 - Side One - Inspiral Carpets, Dub Sex, Depeche Mode, Family Cat, Spacemen 3

Format: Double Vinyl, CD, Cassette
Year of Release: 1990

As a new decade dawned, and Guru Josh uttered "Nineteen nineties... time for the Guru... ooh ah ooh uh!" for us all to nod serenely, one might have expected sweeping changes from the team at Beechwood Music. In reality, Volume 9 would see a huge change in the design and visibility of the series, whereas Volume 8 looks like more of the same and really is.

There's not much to fault here, actually. Hideous public convenience shaded green sleeve aside, it continued to contain the most relevant indie acts and eccentric relative outsiders - Peel perennials and IPC flavours-of-the-month alike.

Indie-Dance was now starting to become a seriously huge deal, and just about any indie band was slapping out dance remixes of their singles - even The Wonder Stuff, who released a single called "Who Wants To Be The Disco King" in 1989 then came up with a dance remix of "Circlesquare" in 1990, without a hint of embarrassment. Volume 8 of the series does hint towards that tendency ever so slightly, but its focus on the dying months of 1989 means we're not quite in the midst of Baggygeddon yet. But that's coming. Oh, it's most definitely coming.

1. Inspiral Carpets - Move (Cow)

"Move showed that Inspiral Carpets were quite capable of appealing to a wider audience than anybody thought. It reached number 49 in the Gallup chart on their own label".

To me, "Move" feels like the start of the Inspiral Carpets finishing the business of being garage-pop retroheads and into the realms of creating much more slickly produced, considered singles. Whereas earlier tracks nodded towards old Pebbles compilation LPs and scratchy old film clips of Question Mark and The Mysterians (one of their early cassettes even included a cover of "96 Tears"), from this point forward they would attain a similar melancholy gloss to The Stranglers.

Their progress towards the National Top 40 was actually greeted somewhat guardedly by the press. On the one hand, the NME in particular wanted Manchester bands to succeed and gain a larger profile, but the Inspiral Carpets weren't rebellious outsiders like The Roses and The Mondays. These were rather plain, shaggy looking men with a workmanlike attitude, not ex-drug dealers or would-be revolutionaries. They appeared to slip through the net quietly without everyone's permission - The Boomtown Rats to The Stone Roses' Sex Pistols and The Mondays' Clash, if you will. They would never quite be forgiven for their insolence.

That's a bit ridiculous, though. The Inspiral Carpets were becoming very good songwriters indeed, and that's apparent on "Move". With a swirling, faintly psychedelic instrumental break but with much more emphasis placed on the moody autumnal hooks elsewhere, it's a track that proves the band not only could take things to the next level, they almost certainly would. It still sounds like a detailed and involving slice of pop to this day, and is one I still regularly play (unlike most of the rest of Side One here).



2. Dub Sex - Time Of Life (Scam)

"Tough times. Many thanks to Alison, Martin, Edward 'Wood' Barton, Chris 'Remix' Nagle, Phil 'Beard' Korbel and Dat 2 Dat. Looking forward..."

Manchester's Dub Sex were around at the birth of the Hacienda and the baggy movement, and were widely regarded as one of the city's most favoured bands, only to be rudely sidelined just as everything went stellar around them. While other bands soundtracked parties, Dub Sex had a doomy post-punk sound which felt like part of Manchester's past rather than present or future. Rather unfortunately, the Indie Top 20 series only gave them space for their last ever single, and the sleevenotes above act as a rather unfortunate epitaph.

"Time Of Life" probably isn't their greatest moment, either. Slamming, clattering, and kicking its way around like a stroppy teenager, it establishes its main mood early on then never really progresses much. There are better examples of their work on YouTube if you take the time to surf around -this really does sound like the towel being thrown in by comparison. Still, future Indie Dancers the New Fast Automatic Daffodils did sound as if they owed a small debt to some of Dub Sex's ideas.



3. Depeche Mode - Personal Jesus (Mute)

"It's nice to see Depeche Mode back where they belong, breeding discontent, shitting over all else in their devout intent, huge fun".

"Personal Jesus" was, of course, a huge breakthrough single for Depeche Mode in America, and is frequently cited as being one of their key tracks. It's just... it's just... as a fan, it really doesn't cut it for me. Not only is it very atypical of the rest of their output, its incessant Duane Eddy styled twanging and stomping feels like four men from Essex attending a fancy dress party in old school rock and roll gear. A lot of silly fun for five minutes, but the post-party snapshots wouldn't be something anyone should want pasted on to the cover of their biography.

Inspired partly by religious phonelines in the USA and the book "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Presley, it's also one of the most American sounding recordings the otherwise distinctly European group produced. A mere few years before they were holed up in Berlin, now they appeared to be on horseback riding through the prairie and dreaming of Gracelands.

In the end, it feels as if "Personal Jesus" is the favourite Depeche Mode track among non-fans of the band. As it was the lead single off "Violator", I instantly supposed the game was up and the band were now going to descend into some weird mid-Atlantic, guitar-based compromise. That luckily proved not to be the case, but this is still something I tend to skip on "Violator" whenever I want to listen to the LP.



4. Family Cat - Tom Verlaine (Bad Girl)

"For John, Fred, Jelb and Kev. Five loveable hits from the sticks. Fore runners of the Manchester scene, inventors of Acid House and instigators of the Roving Sweeping System 1989... WAS"

I think they're being a bit sarcastic, readers.

Yeovil's Family Cat were never more or less than common-or-garden indie noiseniks who steadily, over time, honed their craft into something much more epic sounding. Subsequent years have been a bit unkind to their output, turning a blind eye to their presence in the indie charts and national music press, and also frequently ignoring the fact that they more-or-less discovered fellow Yeovilian Polly Harvey (who delivered backing vocals on their single "Colour Me Grey").

In fairness, the scratchiness of "Tom Verlaine" is probably one of their finest moments, and the slicker they became the less interesting they got. "Verlaine" is a touching tribute to youthful love spent in pubs listening to cult artists, and supping beer together. It struck a chord with John Peel audiences as it inevitably would, and became their most significant moment.

They clung on to the Indie charts like determined limpets for many years afterwards, though, meaning this isn't the last time we'll be discussing them.



5. Spacemen 3 - Hypnotized (Fire)

"Single of the week in ALL music papers which has not happened since Prince's "Kiss".
'The Spacemen's latest its positively Ethereal, a Velvet Underground sounding blend of rotating guitar  and organ, a shimmering happy love song from Rugby's finest' - Sounds, July '89".

If "Revolution" on Volume 6 was an agitated call-to-arms about some vague cause or other, "Hypnotized" is drowning in hallucinogenic chemicals, with vocals sounding as if they're emerging deep from a shagpile carpet on the floor. It oozes out of your stereo, builds slightly, then slops and slides on the floor fizzing slightly as it goes.

Oddly, I have no memory of ever thinking of it as a significant musical moment - certainly not to the extent that the music press salivated about it - but it is an impressive psychedelic track, even managing to incorporate saxophones in a way that sounds measured and appropriately considered. The long fade section in particular could have been recorded by any number of legendary sixties "heavy" acts, and while "Hypnotized" plays, it's impossible to really get worked up about anything. Admittedly though, if you're in the wrong frame of mind it can occasionally be rather yawnsome at almost six minutes long.

Volume 6 Side 2 - Christian Death, Young Gods, Spacemen 3, Rapeman

1. Christian Death - This Is Not Blasphemy (Prophet/ Jungle)

"This track is taken from the single 'What's The Verdict/ Blasphemy' which does not appear on any album"
'If you get the feeling you're living in the last days and are drawn by the charms of darkness and the macabre, perhaps it's time for Christian Death' - Chris Levevski, Propaganda Magazine.

When I started the blog "Left and to the Back", I quickly realised that I didn't actually get any thrills whatsoever from either listening to music I found awful, or writing about its usually obvious failings. I get the feeling that some music writers genuinely do love lambasting the drab and the dire and leap towards every opportunity, but I'd rather not spend too much time thinking about why something is shit. There's far too much unrecognised greatness out there, and that's really where I usually want my energy to be focused towards (there are exceptions, though - bad novelty records are always fun to write about).

We last encountered Christian Death on Volume 5, and I spent a long time talking about why their music doesn't work for me. This track is, in my opinion, even worse than the last one - nearly five full minutes of bluesy histrionics, howling and chest-beating backed with doomy guitars. More than that, I really can't be bothered to say. Sorry.

Fortunately, I won't have the job of analysing the output of this band again, since this was their last appearance on the series.



2. The Young Gods - Pas Mal (Play It Again Sam)

"European Sonic Architects are building songs of love and desire with instant fusion of heavy guitars and chrome. Future? - Present!"

The contributions made by the Swiss to the European music scene are really rather slight, but The Young Gods managed to reach far beyond their home country's borders. Almost amazingly, when David Bowie was asked about which groups influenced his "Outside" LP in 1995, he named them immediately.

"Outside" is one of Bowie's finest LPs, often overlooked by non-fans due to its mid-nineties release date. "Pas Mal", sadly, offers little hints of the complexity of the ideas found on that album, though it does easily display a similar kind of eerie menace. Sharp, choppy and metallic, it makes its point and goes, leaving a very large mark on the way. The silence between this track and the next feels almost threatening.



3. Spacemen 3 - Revolution (Fire)

"Sweetly, simply put, Spacemen 3 are the only English band that I'd walk the sea to piss on" - Byron Coley, Forced Exposure.

"Revolution" is altogether less brief. Spacemen 3's music later became much more psychedelic, but this is harsh and heavy garage stuff, opening with the pared back guitar riff which dominates the entire track, then a long, ranting political diatribe. "Well, I'm through with people/ who can't get up their ass/ to help themselves/ change this government" they roar. "I suggest to you/ That it takes just five seconds.../ to realize/ that the time is right/ to start thinkin' about/ a litt-le.... REVOLUTION".

Needless to say, this sounded absolutely incendiary and amazing to me as a fifteen year old, whereas now I find myself thinking "What revolution should we have, Kember and Pierce, and how should we do it? What are we protesting about, the right for you to have fun, or for a fairer society, or is it about something specific like exiting the EU? Or all three? Specifics are very important before I start filling various milk bottles with petrol. And who will lead us after the revolution? Will it be you, Kember, or you, Pierce? I don't know if I'm interested in allowing you to negotiate trade deals or things like that, you see, because you were daft enough to sign to Fire Records, so that is a point of concern".

But really, "Revolution" is a very traditional rock and roll howl of rage whose vague targets feel typical of psychedelia and garage rock, and the riff that sandwiches the rant at either end of the track does feel like standing in front of a jeering crowd, or a roaring jet engine. A deep, deep shame about those horribly weedy drum sounds, though, which could have added more aggression and beef to the track if they'd been produced more effectively.

Do I sense a Suicide influence creeping through yet again, incidentally? Certainly though, the main riff itself could be attributed to The MC5's "Black to Comm".



4. Rapeman - Bud(d) (Blast First) (Included on vinyl versions of "Indie Top 20" only)

"Bud(d) is a sad song about two old men, one named Bud and one named Budd, hence the brackets. Budd was a filthy politician who blew his brains out at a press conference, an act that was at once poetic, noble and greedy. Bud was a pleasant, modest man whose life was as beautiful and sad as any man's. He left a touching physical legacy, a legacy that some people disregard or trample over in a search for transient flashiness.
Rapeman existed 10/13/87 - 1/25/89 we hope you liked what we did".
Quote from Steve Albini - March '89

To begin by stating the obvious, the group name Rapeman caused Albini endless grief, most notably in the UK where he was greeted with placards and picket lines at gig venues from angry feminists. The name itself was derived from Japanese comic books with graphic rape scenes in them, but many politically inclined people felt, despite Albini's right-on punk credentials, that it was an insensitive and inflammatory name for a band. (My wife would like me to talk more about this, as I'm sure would some other readers. Let's just say I don't approve of the band's name and leave it at that, because there's really nothing new to add to the argument). 

Many years later, of course, the song "Rape Me" by Nirvana emerged and a similar debate swelled up all over again.

Pushing all that to one side, "Bud(d) "is a complete one chord-wonder of a track which steadily builds up doom and menace. Taking quotes from the politician's final speech and scattering them liberally throughout the record, it's always felt like a soundtrack to Budd Dwyer blowing his brains out in front of assembled journalists, the thudding monotony of his initial dreary and rambling speech giving way to something darker and more disturbed, dramatic and panicked.

Unlikely as it seems, this track climbed to number 2 in the UK indie chart. Albini would eventually go on to become a very heavily in-demand producer and performer in Shellac, whereas Sims went on to join The Jesus Lizard.

At nearly seven-and-a-half minutes long, for reasons of space this track was left off the CD version of "Indie Top 20" and only made it on to the LP and cassette.