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Archive for July, 2005

things to do in hackney when you’re convalescing #1

{{popup kitty.JPG kitty 521×443}}Put cat in basket.

Posted by Frances May Morgan on Friday, July 29th, 2005
(5 Comments)



Friday 29 July

What I’ve been listening to recently:

The Roches, dude! Their first two albums.

Also, the reissued Red Crayola albums on Drag City (obviously not the 90s one); Mercury Rev’s All Is Dream; Mickey & Sylvia; The Raindrops; Holly Golightly; The Sweethearts (and if someone wants to tell me who sent me this wonderful slice of gentle femme-pop recently, I’d be indebted); the first two Pretenders albums (but the live bootleg from 1984 stinks); the deluxe reissue of Sonic Youth’s Goo; the new compilation of Concretes rarities; the new TV Personalities compilation of live tracks and outtakes, extremely dodgy recordings; my son Isaac chuckling and attempting to sing back my songs to me; the hum of my iMac.

Posted by Everett True on Friday, July 29th, 2005
(4 Comments)



un rhinoceros si vous vous ennuyez

So it occurs to me, in a caffeined-up, cross legged, bedridden, rainy dayed, chipped nail-polished, infected throated kinda way, that no one I’ve read writing about CocoRosie so far (and that includes me, yes yes) has mentioned the name of Brigitte Fontaine. Perhaps they should. Perhaps it’s good that they don’t.

I’ll return to this theme later, once the connection between my brain and my fingers is slightly smoother (right now it’s snarled and fraying, making little pinprick burns - ouch - and no sense) and I’ve stopped jumping up and down at my rediscovery of Fontaine’s 1972 album, which I haven’t listened to in a while. In the meantime, I made a mixtape for my sister’s birthday. It looked like this.

Pencil Stick - Clogs
Let’s Go Swimming - Arthur Russell
Bells - Electrelane
Here Comes The Sun Again - M. Ward
Linden Ave Stomp - Jack Rose
Airs of the ear - Richard Youngs
Grow Sound Tree - OOIOO
Underwater Wave Game - Pit Er Pat
The Chronicles Of Sarnia - Final Fantasy
Peach, Plum, Pear - Joanna Newsom
For The Trees - Matmos
Sweet William - Alasdair Roberts
Lonely Wine - TK Webb
Old folks at home/Old Man River - Beach Boys
In Case We Die (Parts 1-4) - Architecture In Helsinki
Trouble Will Soon Be Over - Blind Willie Johnson

Posted by Frances May Morgan on Wednesday, July 27th, 2005
(No Comments)



Friday 22 July

While searching through my email folder for Nirvana corrections, I found this questionnaire:

Which were the most important earlier bands leading up to the C-86 wave?
Orange Juice, Josef K, Aztec Camera (the sound of Young Scotland): the ideology behind Creation Records but not the bands themselves (with the exception of the Mary Chain and The Pastels): anything on Rough Trade records post-1978 (except The Smiths who always were corporate sell-outs): The Fall (because they influences EVERY independent band from the UK post-1977): Buzzcocks, Subway Sect, Captain Beefheart (half the bands on that tape ripped the good Captain off), Velvet Underground (and the other half ripped the Velvets off): Trixie’s Big Red Motorbike, Sophisticated Boom Boom and any of the girl-led pop groups that Peel used to play in the early Eighties: Captain Beefheart again: Byrds and The Creation and Kinks and all that white boy jangling guitar Sixties stuff: Television Personalities: plenty more, but that’ll do for now.

If I were to pick ten bands from the C-86 era to write more about – which should I choose?
The Pastels
Talulah Gosh
Shop Assistants
The Wolfhounds
Jasmine Minks
The Membranes
Big Flame
The Wedding Present
June Brides
The Legend!
(This is a random list, drawn from the top of my head – and I’d be amazed if I haven’t forgotten a load of great bands.)

Are there are any bands that surfaced after the tape but are still considered to be C-86?
Not for me to say – but some people may consider what Matt and Claire put out on Sarah Records to fall firmly within the “C-86 category”. Talulah Gosh were actually post-C86 if my memory serves me correctly. Comet Gain are totally C-86 – as were many of the Riot Grrrl bands (especially the later ones that lost the politics but retained the cutie edge). Oh, and I guess BMX Bandits would’ve loved to have been.

What other musical events (gigs, record releases etc) except for the tape made the year 1986 stand out?
I remember standing at a Soup Dragons Hammersmith Clarendon (upstairs) concert with a basket full of new Legend! fanzines (Wolfhounds/Razorcuts flexi) and not moving all evening – people coming up to me in a constant stream, as I sold about 130 copies. Also, I’d travel up to Bedford Esquires (and other venues) a great deal for their fine triple bills starring folk like Talulah Gosh and Big Flame and Membranes – shows put on by Nigel Turner, who now runs Pickled Egg Records. I can’t recall events – was ’86 Live Aid? USA Against War? C86 was actually a massive disappointment to me: for a compilation that so clearly had its roots in all the bands I would write about for NME at the time, it was incredible I hated so much of it (it’s cos the compilers were too arrogant to consult a “kid” like me). I still don’t like much of the tape – it’s unrepresentative of its times certainly (as opposed to the brilliant C81 comp, five years earlier) and even unrepresentative of the small narrow strata of music it thought it was representing. I recall a Troublefunk show that I danced my ass off at.

Were there any venues or clubs that were central to C-86?
Was Alan McGee still putting on shows then? If so, then whatever he was behind would have been central. If not, then certainly Dan Treacy’s Room At The Top, upstairs at the Enterprise Chalk Farm, next to the excellent Marine Ices shop where everyone would hang out before bands, was vital. As was Leigh’s shows at Woolwich Polytechnic and Nigel’s shows in Bedford. They were the main three I’d go to.

Was C-86 in general political – lyrically or musically? Or was it just shaped by the politics of the time? And was it working-class or middle-class?
Depends which strata of C-86 you’re talking about: the crap pop bands like The Bodines and Mighty Mighty or god-awful Close Lobsters certainly weren’t political. The more obviously Beefheart-influenced bands like Stump and The Shrubs and Big Flame and The MacKenzies certainly seemed to be on the surface – although it’s arguable that was only because of the style of music (angular, awkward, challenging) they were aping. The Age Of Chance seemed revolutionary, the way they matched guitar pop to dance rhythms, and were unfortunately (for them) 10 years ahead of their time. Half-Man Half-Morons (who should NEVER have been near the compilation) were an out-and-out joke band.
The temptation nowadays when faced with a crop of ‘indie’ bands is to automatically think of them as middle-class but looking down the list on C-86 I’d have to say most of them are working-class (probably in some last echo of punk’s diverse roots that spread out to the working-class communities from its middle-class origins with Strummer and McClaren and that whole London thing). Most of those C-86 would’ve played benefits for the miner’s strike and the like…again, I think this was probably part genuine outrage at the Thatcher years, and probably part follow-on from punk and post-punk’s obvious political leanings. Yes, of course the bands were shaped by their times, and among that section of society in the mid-Eighties, dissent was very much to the front.
Interesting that, out of 22 bands on the compilation, only three of them are female.

I’ve heard that there wasn’t a homogenous indiepop sub-culture before C-86. Is that true? And what were the identifying markers of anoraks, both on the surface and ideologically?
No, there wasn’t – not readily identifiable, at least. The most it amounted to was boys like Bobby Gillespie and Edwyn Collins who wore their hair like members of The Byrds: there was definitely a Mod and Sixties crossover with some of the more jangling elements of the independent sector (thanks a lot to the Creation Records aesthetic) but no…To be honest, I don’t think C-86 was the main factor behind ‘indiepop’…that was more down to the law of diminishing returns and Sarah Records (in particular) sometimes inspirational but more often damn right annoying tunnel vision and insistence on sticking with ONE PARTICULAR SOUND, no messing (and certainly with no room for females, barring the ever-present Amelia Fletcher). Anoraks were NOT the norm in ’86 (Stephen Pastel wore one, but with leather trousers) not at all…it was the younger brothers of the C-86 generation who decided that they were cool, not the people of the time.

Where did C-86 go? Did it merge with other genres or did it all turn into twee?
Let’s get this straight. C-86 didn’t actually exist as a sound, or style. It was supposed to be a “state of the independents” compilation, similar to C-81. The reason it wasn’t was down to the myopic vision of its compilers. The reason it wasn’t stronger was because major contributor behind the scenes, Neil Taylor – who only ever chose to write about bands I’d reviewed two weeks before – had no actual idea about music beyond reading other journalists. I loved soul and dance music at the time of C86. But the compilation didn’t reflect any of that. One half of C-86 obviously turned twee – was already on the verge even as the tape was being put together. The other half continued existing merrily on its own terms thanks very much.

What’s your definition of C-86 today?
I don’t have one. See above. And I find it weird bordering on surreal that people are starting to use it as a description again, specifically to sell seven-inch singles on eBay. No one used the term back then. They really didn’t.

And now the more important questions, especially tailored for you: I assume you wrote the fanzine The Legend! – how would you describe it?
Impassioned, arrogant, self-obsessed, determined to strike its own path separate to the great morass of fanzines who all just seemed to be content with being third-rate copies of NME (I always knew I couldn’t do interviews, so I never ran a single one in any of the five issues of The Legend!)…naïve, futile, excitable, plenty of exclamation marks, instant, brutally honest, refused to take any ads whatsoever (and yes, I was offered some), very proud of what it did…almost entirely written by me, designed and published by me…

What other fanzines do you remember liking and what distinguished them?
Idiot Strength, Are You Scared To Get Happy?, Juniper Beri-Beri, Attack On Bzag, The Rox, that hilarious magazine Miki and Emma did years before they formed Lush (Alphabet Soup),Incendiary, Hungry Beat…for pretty much the same reasons as I’ve detailed in the description of The Legend! None were as passionate or extreme as mine, of course.

You were writing both for your own fanzine as well as for the NME – was that uncommon? And what did you think about the NME ca 1986?
There were a few of us who wrote for both our own magazines and the music press – me, John Robb, James Brown, several more. It wasn’t that uncommon, there was a great tradition of writers coming to the music press from fanzines that started during the early punk days – and to the best of my knowledge has continued through even till today. I hated NME but of course I secretly loved it too. I didn’t exactly socialise with any of the other journalists there…I was routinely ridiculed and looked down upon by my fellow writers, especially the more august ones (and with some reason: I still couldn’t string a sentence together at that point). Danny Kelly supported me, and Steven Wells and David Quantick. Cheers mates.

Were you involved with compiling the C-86 tape? Why was it put out and what determined which bands were on it? (If possible, compare with C-81.)
I think I’ve already answered this question above: it was basically intended as a “state of the independents” round up – NME had a tradition of putting out tape compilations, like C-81, but covering all forms of music (Rebellious Jukebox was my all-time favourite, introducing me as it did to the wonders of Southern Soul Music: there were several others also, covering jazz and hip hop). This was at least a decade before the idea of giving music away with a music magazine had become so thoroughly devalued that nowadays you don’t even bother buying Mojo or Uncut unless they have a free CD attached, and even the broadsheets get in on the act…
I wasn’t involved. I should have been, but I was a jumped-up fanzine kid (who just happened to be introducing most of these previously ignored bands to the music press and their readers). The standing joke at the time was that the tape comprised all the bands who’d slept on my floor when they played London – Shop Assistants, Wedding Present, Pastels, Bogshed, A Witness, Age of Chance, Soup Dragons….If I’d been involved there’s no way bands like Mighty Mighty or Half-Man Half-Biscuit (neither of whom had ANYTHING to do with anything) would have been allowed near the tape.

How come the two in retrospect perhaps most classic C-86 bands, Razorcuts and Talulah Gosh, were not on the tape?
I’m fairly sure Talulah Gosh were only just emerging right about the time the tape came out, so you can hardly blame the NME for not including them. (Why no June Brides, though? That was a bigger scandal.) And same held true of Razorcuts (although I absolutely LOVED that band by the time C86 appeared)…as I say, I had nothing to do with that tape despite being part of the inspiration for it. If I had then of course the ‘cuts would’ve been on it.

What were the connections between C-86 and other related terms such as anorak, shambling, jangle or twee? What did they mean and in what order did they emerge?
Anorak was something Simon Reynolds invented a couple of years later, in Melody Maker (he wrote a big article in ’88 on the whole fanzine ‘scene’, which by that time had moved along to the Canterbury Arms in Brixton, I think, that included massive pictures of John Robb and me – much to NME’s disgust). I think he may have invented ‘twee’ at the same time. Both are horrible condescending words. Ugh! Jangle was probably around since ’81 or so, with Orange Juice and the bands that loved Sixties groups like The Byrds. Shambling (and the thankfully underused grebo) has been credited to John Peel circa ’85 – but I never listened to him so I wouldn’t know. I think it was taken to mean bands like The Fall, and the Beefheart-influenced lot, who didn’t care so much whether everything was perfectly produced or polished, but had a more ‘shambolic’ approach to recording and playing live. I used to think it meant any band that took more than three attempts to start a song…in which case Teenage Fanclub early on were the ultimate shambling band. But to me, Bogshed always were.

Why did the NME turn on a scene of their own creation and start using the term C-86 in a scornful manner?
That was because most of the writers never liked it in the first place – and also cos the description quickly codified into a certain sound. And that always sucks when that happens.

Some people seem to think the invention of C-86 killed off indiepop. What were the negative as well as the positive effects?
I can’t comment here; neither term actually means much to me as descriptions of a genre of music (the two are synonymous as far as I’m concerned) so the question is meaningless. Got to go now. Hope this helps.

Posted by Everett True on Friday, July 22nd, 2005
(6 Comments)



the glove came out

THEGLOVE (47k image)

72 hours straight Photoshop work. The pain.

Posted by Sarah Bowles on Tuesday, July 19th, 2005
(7 Comments)



better living through kemialliset

Right now I would like to live here. In a purple timbered house with a huge roof.

Posted by Frances May Morgan on Monday, July 11th, 2005
(10 Comments)



better living through kemialliset

Right now I would like to livehere. In a purple timbered house with a huge roof.

Posted by Frances May Morgan on Monday, July 11th, 2005
(No Comments)



make me a wish

The boy who came to visit last week was talking about this album. I had an inkling I had it perhaps, but then I thought, no, I don’t have that, I have some other Gary Wilson thing. So he played it to me on his iPod on a cloudy, sticky Tuesday morning and it synthesized just right with the air around us. It wasn’t pretty music, it was tired and awkward, but it was beautiful in that sleepy way that Ariel Pink’s music is beautiful: beautiful like real stuff, like hair and feet and blemishes can be. We chose not to dwell too on the obsessive quality of the lyrics and the vulnerable vocals that were coming out of someone a lot older than us, ’cause it felt a litle creepy. Then he left, and I made a note to find Mary Had Brown Hair somewhere.

This morning I was dallying with my head in the CD boxes kind of under the shelves, where I put stuff marked NOT NOW BUT NOT NEVER, looking for the unreleased album by a band I used to be in back in 2001 (I had reasons for this, but they would take a while to explain). And there was Mary Had Brown Hair. A finished copy. Hidden under some other things, but it was there. I don’t remember ever being sent it. I don’t remember it at all. This suits its transience, its loneliness, its one-track-mindedness as much as it’s testament to my uselessness, and as I picked it out of the box and put it on I chose to believe that things had happened so that I’d find it on this particular Sunday and that, in fact, the timing was perfect indeed.

Posted by Frances May Morgan on Sunday, July 10th, 2005
(No Comments)



9 July

As soon as I open the door to my friend K, I know something’s wrong and I know what it has to be that’s wrong, because I don’t believe that in a city I’ve lived in for this long, with this many people I know and kind of know, that I don’t know anyone whose life hasn’t been directly affected by Thursday. I feel as if the last few days I’ve just been waiting for some inevitable bad news. K is looks pretty today, blonde and purple-shirted in my sunny front room. This is the first thing I notice. Then I notice that we’re hugging and crying and that I have wanted to hug and cry with someone about this ever since Thursday, because it feels pretentious to do it alone, silly, like I’m wallowing in something that happened to someone else. K’s friend is missing, her name in the paper with a few facts attached. I don’t know the friend; I claim no ownership of this possible loss, just the claim of anyone who can imagine losing part of their friendship group. The interconnectedness and wide-ranging, often internet-based nature of this group means that K’s friend is a friend of other friends of mine too. We’re crying because we imagine the loss of other components of our lives too, of someone in a closer circle; and we’re crying for the people for whom that person is in the most immediate circle, and because we don’t want to think of how they must feel, not knowing. I imagine it for a second. It must feel like being swallowed whole.

I got up this morning wanting to write about Joanna Newsom’s amazing new songs I heard her play in Stockholm on Thursday night. About my drunken dawn swim in the harbour (duckweed snagged on my toes; my skin felt like marble washed clean in the rain), and about Mats Gustaffson playing with Sonic Youth, and about conversations that seemed to go on for days, filled with reference points blinking like fireflies in warm darkness and all tied up with circuitous happy reasonings that buzzed and sparked and tied themselves in knots. Now I just want to write that I am lucky; this I know for certain.

Posted by Frances May Morgan on Saturday, July 9th, 2005
(No Comments)



Saturday 9 July

Back from Sweden. Slept. Refreshed. Managed to give Isaac his first bottle feed. C had no problem expressing.

Shock of sadness walking into the newsagents, seeing the papers lined up. Obviously a life in Iraq isn’t worth any less than a life in London - and I find it extremely hard to accept Blair condemning ‘barbaric’ acts of terrorism when he’s supportive of George W’s indiscriminate killing - but it hurts a lot more, being so close to home. Victoria line deserted. Passed through King’s Cross. Oh man.

The ACCELERATOR festival, I enjoyed. Conversation with Bill Callahan that lasted several minutes. Surprise of Montreal’s STARS rocking the house, lively and desperate and poppy like I once dreamed Kirsty MacColl could be, with no air-conditioning and stifling heat in Gothenburg. Delight of discovering DEVENDRA BANHART several years after everyone else and falling haed-over-heels for his loopy, shameless, bearded dance and girl group via Canned Heat harmonies, swaying in front of the adoring all squirmy and sexy and half-naked and with a voice I want to set loose on a thousand Snow Patrol and Keane fans. Delight at discovering EL PERRO DEL MAR, Swedish but sounding Canadian (Jane Siberry), with gentle looping tunes and acoustic playfulness. Delight at witnessing WOLF EYES in full effect, angry beyond argument at the way the volume kept being turned down around them but still issuing great billowing clouds of feedback and steam to where I was standing crouched at Thurston Moore’s feet. Delight at seeing SONIC YOUTH for the first time in three years, still inspirational and on edge, with Thurston being rugby-tackled by an explosively aggressive member of Wolf Eyes at the end of an improvised encore featuring the sax-player from THE THING that went on for an eternity and a minute: Jim O’Rourke flailing feedback like a squat Nick Cave. (We feared for Thurston’s back.) Frances remarked she’d been a fan for half her life now (from 1991)…and I realised that I had too (from 1983). During an interview with Kim and Thurston we discussed Ramones and Kurt and rock as community and babies. JOANNA NEWSOM stunned everyone with her beauty. TEENAGE FANCLUB charmed with their good nature. The heat blistered. My friend Cristof from CITY SLANG showed up. My friend Lisa from THE CONCRETES showed up. My friend Jim White from SMOG and THE DIRTY THREE showed up. Spotted Plan B in both Gothenburg and Stockholm.

In Stockholm, I ran into the Plan B school outing: a dozen or so editors and writers and photographers clutching their heads because of pain filtering through from the previous night’s excesses, and feeling sombre because of the news filtering through from London. Later, I spotted them cutting a giggly chattering swarthe through the densely packed audience in search of the next drink, all sweet and young and enthusiastic. We even spotted Stevie Chick! Not THE Stevie Chick?! Exactly.

A fun time among the sadness.

Posted by Everett True on Saturday, July 9th, 2005
(6 Comments)



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