from the LP Lovegod, Big Life Records, 1990
I’ve made sufficient mention in this blog of the profound effects that MDMA had upon the music, and indeed social, scene across Great Britain during their summer(s) of love in the late ‘80s, and the Soup Dragons are another great example of that fallout; having begun their existence somewhere between the C86 sound & more jagged stuff like early Jesus & Mary Chain, this release finds them completely transformed into baggy-clothed, tie-dyed, smiley-faced participants in the love revolution (perhaps only being outdone by fellow Brits the Shamen in how much their sound had changed). Thing is, apart from some of the simplistic beats, this album has aged pretty decently---not that its songs have ever been too far from the public ear mind you, as the Dragons have been happy to lease their singles out for seemingly any commercial, TV show or film that’s asked. This song is a great Sunday morning (or just “morning after”) relaxant: thick beats, smoky vocals, steady tambourine, and those tape loops of recorded laughter & random bits of conversation make things just trippy enough to keep part of your head in the clouds.
from the 12” single, Parlophone Records, 1990
Looking backwards, I’m entirely convinced that the music video for this specific song proved to be a vital early step in the slow proliferation of electronica in the United States; the very sight of all those ecstatic British blokes & birds in baggy clothes and floppy smiles, pupils dilated to the fullest, proved to be something of a clarion call for us kids across the pond here---let’s be honest, it helped a great deal that they were actually a “band”, only having one DJ on stage in the clips didn’t intimidate wary Americans at all. Although the name officially stood for “Epsom Mad Funkers” (in a nod to New Order, surely one of their biggest influences), their own lyrics on the self-titled B-side to the this single, not to mention the clear substance of choice amongst those partying in the video, gave rise to the more commonly known explanation, “Ecstasy, Motherfuckers, From us to you!” It also coincided with an explosion of British & Euro rave compilations hitting music stores, in Florida anyways, and for many of us at that point, the die was fully cast: we would soon be going to raves and, thus, defining something new for ourselves, then just coming out of the ‘80s. Even watching the video now, some 20 years later and as a boring old man, I’m besieged with an endearing sympathy for how innocent it all was…well, minus the drugs anyways, you know what I mean…
from the 12” single, Produce Records, 1990
One of my all-time favorite hits from the brit-pop explosion of the late ‘80s & early ‘90s, this song by Liverpool based group The Farm decrees that we “…get on, get on, get on, get on, get on…” their so-called “groovy train”. Well alright then, if you say so!! This song tells the story of a guy bumping into a girl that he knew back in school, when she was a tough delinquent, but who has seemingly transformed into a baggy-clothes wearing, E-taking, bobble-headed raver; this was right at that time when most of the UK was turning on, and many people went from being punk rockers to ravers over night. This video actually got a lot of play over here in the states, along with EMF and the Happy Mondays, but it took a while before Americans really caught the vibe, and by that time the Farm was no more.
from the LP Doubt, Food Records, 1991
I know I’m gonna take a lot of shit for this post, but I couldn’t care less; for a brief shining moment back in the early ‘90s, as we all watched communism dissolving before our eyes & many people were indulging in MDMA, Jesus Jones nailed the balance of relevant pop music and electronica that artists like Moby and Fatboy Slim would later improve upon. I’m not sure why critics later decided to project their self-loathing upon these guys---seriously, there is plenty of exceptionally worse music out there that we can all have fun debasing. I’m not arguing that they were unsung prodigies or anything like that, but plenty of their songs still remain catchy and danceable all these years later; their secret weapon was bassist Al Jaworski, whose funky basslines drove their vibe as much as the beats he was complementing.
from the LP Bummed, Factory Records, 1988
Perhaps better remembered for their drug-fueled antics off the stage than for their music, the Happy Mondays’ catalogue holds up rather well, in my humble opinion, and both their genre-bending style & all-around journey are far more interesting than most other brit-pop groups. They were kingpins of what was dubbed the “Madchester” scene, basically a bunch of working class kids in the Midlands rolling on E and throwing house parties; their music had many influences, from Krautrock to the Balearic-beat records which were just becoming more popular at that time. Shaun Ryder, their “singer”, turned into a British-tabloid-whore as his addictions led to many unpredictable and bizarre public outbursts, often involving guns and/or a lack of clothing; just think of him as that era’s Amy Winehouse. The spectacle he became makes this song, seemingly a rant against a junkie, more than just a bit ironic, “…grass eyed, slash eyed, brain dead fucker, rips off town & steals from his brother; loathed by everyone, but loved by his mother…”
from the 12” single, Creation Records, 1990
Heralded in upon an angelic, gospel-like chorus demanding that we “come together”, this epic track summed up what had been a very far-out couple of years in the UK; the summers of 1988 & 1989 (most will tell you they didn’t bother to stop partying right on through the interim) are commonly referred to as Britain’s Summer of Love, and while the American version which happened in 1967 centered around LSD, the update was preoccupied with ecstasy. As big as the rave scene did wind up getting over here, it’s difficult for us Americans to fully appreciate how massive and socially influential of a movement it was across the pond; even in the ‘60s, the counterculture in the States was overwhelmingly a white middle-class phenomenon, while the rave scene in the UK was spread across the racial & socioeconomic strata, particularly bringing in working-class British youth. The ability of MDMA to smash those traditional rules of masculinity and posturing is really quite profound, and the picture of a bunch of typically-violent, football (soccer) hooligans all hugging one another and telling each other how much they love each other instead of getting drunk and bashing heads is a beautiful and heavy thing, dig? Primal Scream came out of the so-called “c86” scene (which got its name from a specific cassette-only NME compilation from 1986 which featured the then-current crop of British indie-jangle-pop bands), essentially Byrdsian neo-psych, lots of tambourines, Rickenbackers and pretty melodies; frankly, once ecstasy and beats hit the scene real big in 1988, it didn’t matter if you had previously been into thrash metal---if you were a drug-willing British individual between the ages of 12 and 40, you probably got wrapped up in the love for at least a minute. Anyone who’s experimented with E will just smile in mushy recall at the lyrics here, “…lifts me right out of this world…trip me, lift me, ride me to the stars…I’m free, you’re free; I want you to touch me…now it’s all too much, all too much…” Band leader Bobby Gillespie & his crew had clearly been very turned on, and the radical shift in musical approach is all the proof one needs of that. Primal Scream have continued on through the years, shapeshifting in styles and generally just doing whatever the hell they feel like doing, producing some excellent albums right up until this very day (i.e. Screamadelcia, Vanishing Point, XTRMNTR, Riot City Blues). We’re about due for another “Summer of Love” again somewhere on the planet, and with the shape of the world these days, I’ll go on the record as predicting it will be sooner than later…
from the 12” single, Situation Two Records, 1990There is something about the sound of a church organ, so urgent, so dramatic---it’s as if someone was screaming, only it sounded lovely; the Charlatans always employed its sound to great success. Sure, their vibe is a direct rip-off from the first wave of C86 bands like Inspiral Carpets or Primal Scream (shit, even the slip to this 12” was a near copy of the cover done for the Stone Roses’ Sally Cinnamon 12”), but they imitate the sounds wonderfully and, candidly, they outdo many of their influences. Seemingly about an obsession over some girl, the song whirls around in a haze of delay and wah-wah, emulating the visceral impact of being in love quite well. I first owned this on a cassette single, which I promptly bought after seeing the video on MTV’s revolutionary show 120 Minutes; speaking of which, MTV has sucked stale farts for so long now, playing music videos actually seems like a novel idea again!
from the 7” single, Silvertone Records, 1989
The UK is well-known for cultivating musical trends, often to the point of complete hysteria, that never fully translate across the pond here in the States---case in point: the mash-up of musical influences that came to be known as “Brit-Pop”. With the glaring (and I don’t necessarily mean that in a good way) exception of Oasis later on, the so-called ‘Madchester’ scene and trends linked to it never got big over here; this band stands right at the center of any dialogue on that commotion. Starting their career with a sound much more indebted to the mid ‘60s, by the time this single was dropped they had adopted influences stemming from the rave scene, with a pronounced focus on all things beats-related. The guitar riff which loops throughout the song is irresistible, and matched with the tambourine and bongos it all compels you to get down. Great line, “…these boots were made for walking, the Marquis de Sade never made no boots like these…”
from the LP Lovegod, Big Life Records, 1990
