THE HISTORY OF

A MONTHLY TRIP
THROUGH MUSIC'S
GOLDEN YEARSTHIS ISSUE:1986

FROM THE
ARCHIVES OF
41ELOIY.
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PLUS! THE CURE MILES DAVIS THE FALL NICK CAVE FELT SIMPLY RED

A1986
MON

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Welcometo 1986

T

HANKS TO NME'S C86 cassette, amail-order compilationof young and promising guitar bands, this is an unusual year,
in that it seems to come with its own soundtrack album
already attached.
In fact, though the music press of that year covers thisemerging wave of groups such as Primal Scream, some of themost dramatic events of 1986 take place in front of larger audiences, and far
closer to the mainstream. From their yobbish first appearances in public, theBeastie Boys quickly prove that their records are serious -and particularly
serious about agood time. Mancunians Simply Red and The Smiths bothdevelop wider congregations of ecstatic supporters.
Our cover star Prince, meanwhile, seems to dominate many people's
thinking. He's made another excellent album, and another film. He's working
with Miles Davis, and has become atopic of conversation. When in August heplays arun of shows at London's Wembley Arena, it leaves critics if not exactly
speechless, then at least convinced that these represent an apogee of whatmight be possible in arock concert.
It's true, he's not one for saying much. But in his stead, strong musical opinion
flourishes from other sources. This year, The Go-Betweens, Nick Cave, The Fall
and The Smiths all make landmark work -and don't just walk it, but talk it
powerfully, too. Ten years on from punk, John Lydon has plenty to say about it,
and his great new record. In the world of pop, meanwhile, George Michael and
the Pet Shop Boys prove that thoughtful comment and asense of mission aren't
the preserve of groups with guitars.
This is the world of The History Of Rock, amonthly magazine that follows
each turn of the rock revolution. Whether in sleazy dive or huge arena,passionate and stylish contemporary reporters were there to chronicle events.
This publication reaps the benefits of their understanding for the reader
decades later, ayear at atime. Missed one? You can find out how to rectify thaton page 144.
In the pages of this 21st edition, dedicated to 1986, you will find verbatim
articles from frontline staffers, filed from the thick of the action, wherever thatmaybe.
At the Haçienda, jousting ego with New Order's Peter Hook. Being told by Nick
Cave that you, and every member of your profession, are scum. At the Brixton
Academy, as Morrissey raises asign to express all that the band's wry andempathetic music have come to mean in the last three years.
It says, "Two light ales, please".

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I3

1986mo„,„%,UHT H

Contents

624

are game to play, too. RIP Philof fourth LP LibertyBelle And

music in apost-punk

Lynott. Simply Red's Mick

The Black Diamond Express.

context. Delirious crowds

Hucknall ¡son theMakercouch.
Joni Mitchell hits London.

Opinionated words softly

attest to their genius.
"We don't take it upon

Bono sings against apartheid.

Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood

12

"We're still Joy Division..."This and other surprising

The Australian band

ready themselves for the releasespoken is their mode.

28

The American
oddballs rewire old-time

the vanguard."
The Stones guitarist

defends his band against

all comers, and as it turns

makers of "Blue Monday". Inside

out, the journalist too.

44

"Don't apologise for getting

biopic. Sigue Sigue

up my nose," he says. "Not

Sputnik sell ads on their

many do."ramshackle appeal. Careerists, itturns out, they're not. "We don't
care what's going to happen."22

New releases rated.
Depeche Mode's Black
Celebration suggests anew

direction. Swans, meanwhile,
continue their dark attrition.

34

••••

ME

PLAYING DEVILS ADVOCATEJohn Lydon reviles

heart of the band.

Paul Westerberg and his

1•
,

Ve'

the new Sid Vicious

the Haçienda, and entering theband attempt to explain their

THE

40

ourselves to be inrevelations from the high-tech

18
BI.EDDYN BUTCHER /REX FFATI,RFS

N le,
b.

LP. The Ramones areon the MMcouch.

Asighting of new

phenomenon Sigue Sigue

Sputnik. Red Wedge(Bragg, Council, Junior, WorkingWeek) are caught on tour.

Sheila E, "just goodfriends" with Prince,
introduces herself.

50

Mick Jones puts The Clash36

behind him to create aband to dance, take onmagnificent new album,A/bum.
The road will rise with him.

Love for everyone apartfrom the inedia, that is.

"PiL is me," says John
Lydon, as he explains his

TI-CHRISTIROCKSOME VICAR'e TALKING'

pop and promote love.

54

Johnny Cash's daughter isi
WOODENTOPS

73

SOUTHSIDE

CHERELLE

No Knighthood for Sir Bob,

Red Wedge, the politics of Siguefour albums deep into her career.

Sigue Sputnik... and more fromIs she country? In spite of her

the NMEand MM mailbags.

illustrious heritage, she claims not.

58

An audience with Morrissey
about the "vile" music business,

74

JAMC return to the fray, but
without amanager. Ozzy and"Suicide Solution". The Smiths

and the place of his band within it.

sign to EMI, apparently. Richard

Afewwords are spared also for The

Butler is on the couch. And where

Smiths' new LP, The Queen Is Dead.

isBill Grundy now?

66

78

The former Wham! vocalist

launches solo in earnest. Aright-on

chat with aperson of conscience,

At acollege ball in north
London, the fourth best band in

Hull find an uncomfortable

the self-described "George

reception for their avowedly

Michael, pop star".

Christian, socialist acappella pop.

70

82

New releases from Sting,

Dwight Yoakam and Prince.

Wednesday night at NME's

C86 week at London's ICA. The

Servants, Wedding Present and

BEASTIE

va.7,.db

Primal Scream show their mettle.

84

On the road in the US with
Mick Hucknall and band. But will

the singer's fight against loneliness
derail their schedule?

AND Iflf REVOLUTIANOTHERWVERHOLENYOHE
B/W IWANNA BE YOUR LE
New 7" & 12" SiInitial quantities ofavailable in superb poster 1>
Featuring pictures fn
Wembley 19o
45 RPM
W 8727la, •I STENE0.eeenle ,..•••••

SW1118111 PART/row mew.

4‘

88

Scum! The singer rails
against the inhumanity of thepress... with anotherpromotional interview.

92

The greatest show on Earth!

When Prince lands in London,
critics admit they thought that
performances like this didn't
happen any more.

96

EEC, the vocalist reveals his

behindthoughtful, opinionated self.

his True

106

In aSwiss hotel room, theClosing the book on

Wham!. Anew and importantrelease from Madonna, True Blue.

At ahistoric amphitheatre

in France, the band perform forthe camera. But who "owns" Loi
Iblhurst, and what do the ferrets

112

With the band on theirhome turf in NewYork— and thenwatching them wreak havoc inhave to do with it?

the UK on tour.
100 AProbing chat withMark ESmith. From his early
hauntings, to royalty and the

118

i
s.

122

'`...... „,.„, n.,, ,pinpoints where he stands in
Prince disbands

his group, The Revolution.
Mark ESmith writes aplay.

the pop marketplace. But does
he still do the hoovering?

138 ,At home in the

My Bloody Valentine.

Midlands with Felt's guiding

128

proves to conceal an utterly
serious musical conviction.

while Iggy reunites with Bowie
for Blah, Blah, Blah.

142

light, Lawrence. His wry exterior

New releases from
Felt and My Bloody Valentine,

130

In the run-up to

Christmas, The Smiths play
an anti-apartheid benefit.

Matt Johnson unveils

adramatic video suite toDavid Byrne turns

134

Urbane former
journalist Neil Tennant precisels

accompany his new album,

film director. What's the story,i=e10—0...

Michael Hutchence is on the
couch. And introducing...

(not quite so positive).

,110'•••••••••rill• 'MI

THE REPLACEMENTS

Stories?

legend shares his views on recent
collaborator Prince (positive) andSting, who stole some of his band

12 Includ
Extended Yersic

Infected. Will anyone get behindhis steamy, brutal vision?

Surely nothing can derail thisincredible band?

145

More from the mailbags.

I

di5ek
Time Inc. (UK) Ltd, 3rd Floor, Blue Fin Building, no Southwark St, London SEI OSU IEDITOR John Mulvey, whose favourite song from 1986 is Kiss by
Prince DEPUTY EDITOR John Robinson Battery by Metallica ART EDITOR Lora Findlay Fall On Me by REM PRODUCTION EDITOR Mike Johnson Life
Without Reason by Pete Shelley ART DIRECTOR Marc Jones Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order DESIGNER Becky Redman Fight For Your Right by the
Beastie Boys PICTURE EDITOR Phil King Velocity Girl by Primal Scream COVER PHOTO AF Archive /Alamy THANKS TO Helen Spivak MARKETING
Nashitha Suren SUBSCRIPTIONS Rachel Wallace GENERAL MANAGER Jo Smalley GROUP MANAGING DIRECTOR Paul Chea 1
COVERS AND TEXTPRINTED BY Wyndeham Group I
WWW.UNCUT.CO.UK

Time Inc.

Subscription rates: One year (12 issues) including p&p: UK £119.88: Europe E129.40; USA and Canada $203.88; Rest of World £155.75. For
enquiries and orders please email help@magazinesdirect.com. Alternatively, from the UK call 0330 333 1113, or overseas t-44 330 333 1113
(lines are open monday-Friday GMT. 83oam-5.3opm ex. Bank Holidays). Back issues enquiries: Tel: 01733 688 064. www.mags-uk.com'recycle

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I5

MIKECAMERON/GETTY

1

-PRIN

ELODY•MAKER

1986

JANUM -te ll
VIOLENT FEMMES, NEW
ORDER, GO-BETWEENS,JOHN LYDON AND MORE

"A way toawaken myself"
NME JANUARY 18

prest.
ituff as Bono aq
Keith Richards record in support
South African anti-apartheid rnchy

OU WOULD NEVER have thought that BonoVox's harrowing "Silver And Gold" had been
grafted onto the end of the Artists United
Against Apartheid album Sun City almost as anafterthought. Adark delta blues song with just agritty tinge of country, it provided the perfect signoff line to an LP that had gathered together some of
the biggest names in contemporary pop and soul inan expression of solidarity with the black South
African freedom movement.
And yet the song-which features Rolling Stones
Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood on guitar-was
written, recorded, mixed and finally mastered inlittle more than 48 hours. In fact, producers Steve
Van Zandt and Arthur Baker had to hold back the
cutting of the disc one October morning last year
just to include Bono's hot-off-the-desk response to
the "Sun City" call.
Set in aprison cell, its subject matter is the
economic plight of the oppressed black majority
in that sad, savage country. The South African
economy is based to alarge extent on mineral
wealth, the silver and gold, in mines that are worked
bywhat is virtually slave labour, and this image iscentral to the song. Bono, however, cleverly extends
the metaphor to encompass the crucial question of
sanctions, the potential economic stranglehold onapartheid that our arrogant leaders so stubbornly
refused to consider at the recent conference ofCommonwealth ministers.
It is not that surprising to find the U2 singer soprominent in the Artists United project, all proceedsof which go to The Africa Fund, acharity that gives
moral and financial support to political prisoners inSouth Africa as well as helping refugees in the West.
On their 1984American tour, the one that coincidedwith the last US general election, U2 were becoming
increasingly associated with agrowing resurgenceof the Stateside civil rights and anti-apartheid
movements. Before playing the anthemic "Pride", forinstance, Bono would regularly refer to the South »6 IHISTORY OP

K1986

June 6,1986: U2 at theForum in LA during oneof six Conspiracy Of
Hope concerts acrossthe US, staged to draw
attention to the work ofAmnesty Internationalon its 25th an niversary

UNDERMININ
PARTHEID

1986

Lynott driven
more thani00
mileswhilesemi-conscious

JANUMIN

African struggle. On one date of the tour he evenreceived atelephone call of encouragementfrom Bishop Desmond Tutu, one of the mostinfluential black church leaders in South Africa.
Bono himself is guarded as to pop or rock's
ability to actually influence political change
and is wiselywary of any "U2 Save World"
shtick, but the band's efforts in the States do,incredibly, appear to have had aminor effect:
they were cited as one of the factors inreawakening the spirit of struggle at the
Democratic party's presidential convention in'84 and an editorial in the New York Times also
associated the Irish band with the perceptively
shifting attitudes of asector ofAmerican youth.
The singer, however, plays down his potential
political impact: "I'm just like anyone else. I
watch the television and read the papers andI
don't really know what's going on, especiallyregarding something like South Africa. I
reallydon't know. I'm just as numb and mummified
as anyone else. Iuse my songs as away toawaken myself. It's like sticking aneedle inyour leg after it has gone to sleep."More so than even "Sunday Bloody Sunday"and "Pride", the latter inspired by Martin
Luther King, "SilverAnd Gold" is the most
specific political song Bono
has everwritten. According
to its composer, it is set apartin acouple of other ways,
too: "It's the first song I've
everwritten that comes fromsomebody else's point ofview. U2 songs are always
from my point of view, but
this is adeparture into thethird person. It's also the first
blues-influenced song I've
written. Iplay the guitar with my foot miked up
the way that old bluesmen like Robert Johnson
used to do. And I'm banging the side of myguitarwith my knuckles to keep the rhyth m. As
the song goes on, the tempo keeps getting fasterand the mood more and more intense.
"The line that started the whole thing for me
was one about aboxer, the idea of aprize fighterin his corner being egged on by atrainer. It's asport that I've found increasingly interestingover the past year. I
find alot of aspects of it very
sordid, abit like cockfighting or something, but
the image was very powerful for the song."
The circumstances leading to the link-up
between Bono and the two Stones that play on"SilverAnd Gold", and the realisation oft hesong in so short atimespace, are covered in
more detail by Dave Marsh's excellent book
Sun City— The Making Of Tize Record.
Briefly, however, the idea arose following
astudio conversation about the history of
the blues between Bono, Peter Wolf (former
vocalist with the JGeils Band), Keith
Richards and Ronnie Wood in New York's
West Side studio, where the Stones wererecording. Bono was in the city for theshooting of the "Sun City" single video,
and when he suggested that they record
another song for inclusion on the album,
Richards and Wood needed no convincing.
And, though their musical and personal
backgrounds would appear to be polesapart, Bono was rather taken by Richards
and Wood during the recording sessionthat ensued: "Richards is the kind of personthat sometimes gives the impression that
he's in aworld of his own over at the otherside of the room, but he's actuallyverywide
awake. He's aman with all the infamy andfortune anyone could want, and it all meansvery little to him.
"The music is the all-important thing tohim. Whether you like or dislike him isn't
really the point. The
important thing is that hehasn't taken the bait andbeen middle-classed out
like so many others."
With the twin guitarist
adding adense, dank
and eerily oppressive
atmosphere to the track—Wood reputedly
playing slide gu itar withaswitchblade!— Bono's
vocal is an uncharacteristic but powerful
guttural murmur, punctuated by shrill
whoops. The mood is primal and basic,enhanced by Keith LeBlanc and Steve Jordan's
percussive knuckle-dusting of apair ofcardboard boxes and lightened only slightly
by the clarinet of New York Times jazz writer
Robert Palmer (no relation) and afemale
chorus led by Tina Band Kirsty MacColl.
As an old friend of Steve Van Zandt, Bono had
been one of the first artists to pledge his support
to the "Sun City" single, and was assigned theprestigious final line of the last verse on theversion that was ultimately released.
By the October morning that he and engineer
Tom Lord-Alge handed the tapes of "SilverAnd
Gold" over to former E-Streeter Van
Zandt for afinal mix, the Sun CityLP wason the point of the mastering process.
Three months later, the song still
stands as abold and powerful statement
and amoving piece of music. Like Gil
Scott-Heron and Peter Gabriel in the late
'70s and Jerry Dammers and Steve Van
Zandt in the early '80s, Bono Vox has
produced one of his most effective andspontaneous songwriting momentsfrom the rage he feels at the systempresided over by PW Botha. And, as longas that abhorrent regime and its tacit
support lobbies in the west persist, hewon't be the last. You can blowout acandle, but you can't blowout afire.

PETER MAZEL/ REX FEATURF.S"U2 songs arealways from mypoint of view —thisis adeparture into
the third person"

Adrian Thrills"
nfaitoi.
RIP, at 36, Phil Lynott.

T

HE ROCK WORLD was left
numbed last weekend by news
that Phil Lynott, founder
member of Thin Lizzy and one of thebiggest stars of the '70s, had died incircumstance that blended tragedy,
pathos and mystery.
Losing an ri -day fight for his life,
Lynott died last Saturday evening with his mother Phyllis, his estranged
wife Caroline and her father, TV
personality Leslie Crowther, at his
bedside -in Salisbury General
Infirmary. The hospital gave the causeof death as "heart failure andpneumonia following septicaemia".
Lynott, says awitness, had spent thenight of December 24/25 drinking
heavily and taking an unspecified drug
at his large home in Richmond, Surrey(he had aformidable reputation forbooze-guzzling and astring of
narcotics convictions). He collapsed on
Christmas Day from amixture of blood
poisoning and liver and kidney failure,and it's here that oddities begin.
Instead of being taken to alocal
hospital, Lynott remained in his homewhile his wife, contacted at her homein Bath, drove over loo miles to pickhim up. She then sped afurther 70
miles to an alcohol and drug abusecentre at East Knoyle, Wiltshire.
Accounts of what happened then are
sketchy, but it seems that the stricken
star was eventually turned away on
the grounds that his condition was"medical and not addiction related."
In desperation, Caroline Crowtherdrove Lynott afurther 20 miles toSalisbury General, completing ajourney of over 200 miles for her andof over loo for the apparently semiconscious Phil Lynott. While there
seems little doubt that alcohol anddrug abuse will be found to have beenmajor contributory factors to Lynott's
death, there will be plenty of othermatters for the coroner to investigate
at the forthcoming inquest.

SHRINK
RAP!

"Set forApril release"MICK
CKNALLMM MARCH 22S

OUNDTRACK MUSIC FROM Absolute
Beginners is to be released over the next
fortnight in three different album formats.
The first release, on March 24, is asingle
album/cassette containing 10 songs from thefilm as well as "significant incidental music".
It comprises "Absolute Beginners" by David
Bowie, "Killer Blow" by Sade, "HaveYou Ever
Had It Blue?" by The Style Council, "Quiet Life"by Ray Davies, "Va Va Voom" byGil Evans,"That's Motivation" by Bowie, "Having It All"
by Eighth Wonder, "Rodrigo Bay" by Working
Week, "Selling Out" bySlim Gaillard and "Riot
City" by Jerry Dammers.
Aweek later, onApril 1, Virgin release theentire original film soundtrack in double
album/cassette format. It contains all the
tracks on the single album plus additionalmusic featured in the film- atotal of 22 tracks.
Included is music by Smiley Culture, Tenpole
Tudor, Clive Langer, Jonas, LaurelAitken and
EkowAbban as well as aperformance of"Volare" by David Bowie.
Finally, and also on April 1, comes an 18-trackcompact disc which "includes as much music
contained on the double album as possible for
quality purposes", and lasts 70 minutes.
The movie, directed bylulien Temple andstarring David Bowie, Sade, Patsy Kensit andJames Fox, is set for an April 3premiere.

Sigue Sigue Sputnik
Why have they signed to EMI? Goodfucking luck to them -they won't do, but I
hope they take the record company to thecleaners. Idon't understand what they're
doing, but they're about as frightening as aflower show as far as I'm concerned.

James Brown
Different ball game altogether. On thetour, we all kept away from him -we don't
like meeting heroes, and he's ahero to me.
His group invented funk. Period. Jimmy
Nolen invented funk guitar -he is the
godfather. How can you knock someone
who's made brilliant music for 25 years?
He's agiant -brilliant -top man. ForgetElvis, The Beatles -James Brown!

Wogan
He wished us all the best. Very polite. Verypolite show. The girl who books the acts ispretty hip -she used to do The Tube. They
have some good music.

Seaside holidays
Iwent to Jamaica for ii days for the New
Year. Walked along awhite beach just highas akite -Idon't normally smoke, but it'sdifficult not to over there. Brilliant time.

Paul Morley
Iknow him from hanging around theElectric Circus and Rafters when
there were between 60 and 200
people who all knew each other formaybe ayear in the end of 1976/77.
He got his job by writing articles
about the Buzzcocks, The Fall,
Warsaw, and they took him on -therest of that paper were agroup of
fucking hippies.

Frantic Elevators
We started writing songs middle
of '77. Apparently, we sounded like
Captain Beefheart, though I'd neverheard any Beefheart at the time. By'79, when we'd lost interest, we justdrifted off into alittle cranky
house in Hulme and played for
ourselves for about two-and-a-halfyears. By the end of Frantic Elevators,
we were really playing rhythm andblues -not in apub-rock sense, but a
bit more percussive, abit weird.

Soul music
vitái., camelA
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011113
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I'm tired of the category -if you'regoing to talk about soul music, thenWilson Pickett, Otis Redding, allthat team. The other soul is people whosing with some sort of feeling, create somekind of emotion. It's adifficult pigeonhole.
I've said before that I
think we're asoul
band, but Idon't think we're asoul band.

FootballImet Pele -had dinner with him. He's stillin great shape -doesn't drink or smoke. He
invited us to Brazil; we're going to do someconcerts there.

New Order
Still big in Manchester. The bass player's
the main one -he's held it together, there's
something about him. Albrecht plays somegood guitar. They're not as powerful as Joy
Division -they had Ian Curtis and he wasaforce in himself. He was agreat lyricist.

John Peel
Ilistened to him last night and it was
fucking torture. Iheard asession by someband that just sounded like The Fall's firstalbum. He praises alot of these alternative
independent bands who are apile of shit.
Ithink he's boring -awaste of radio time.
His taste in reggae is terrible -when allthat serious rockers stuff was on, between'74-78, he wasn't playing it. We're fanatics
about it -Lee Perry, Black Heart, Spear,
King Tubby -magnificent. We play that
more than anything -dub freaks. He knows
his old R'n'B, but I
think he's stopped
playing things he really likes because hethinks it's his duty to let the "kids" be heard.

The Smiths
Nothing against them. Rather see themin the charts than 90 per cent of what's
there. He's interesting. Idon't buy his stuff.
Is he actually from Manchester? Iknow helives in Whalley Range, because Iused togo out with agirl who knew him when he
was knocking around.

Ireland
I'm half-Irish -I
only found out at Christmas.
I've had affinities with it and never known
why -my regular haunt is this serious Irish
pub I
go in and play pool. Ilove Guinness.
It's weird, I
just fit into the mould.

Critics
Necessary -Idon't mind being told about
faults. Alot of writers tell me about soul andknow nothing about it -they've probably
got Aretha Franklin's Greatest Hits and Al
Green's Greatest Hits and think they canwrite the book of soul. People like Paolo
Hewitt -Ireckon he knows fuck all about it.
HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I9

IAI LPUTLAND /GETTY

MM MARCH 22 The Bowie-featuring
Absolute Beginners film is prepped.

•

June 22,1 986: Mid,
Flucknallfronting
Simply Red at the
Glastonbury Festival

P.'f+t4

1986
JA NUM-10"
Junei5,1986:Joni Mitchelljoins the finalConspiracy Of
Hope concert at theGiants
StadiuminNewJersey"How do you figure the puzzle out?"
MM JAN 4

T

HEY'VE ALL BEEN coming out of thewoodwork this past year, the artists
who'd never deign to speak to anyone-ole Neil, Dylan abit, and now the reclusive
Joni Mitchell. The recent Dog Eat Dog is her
14th album, and it's amighty long way from her
1968 debut, Song To ASeagull.
I
didn't even have to go to California, because
Joni flew into Europe just before Christmas toface the press. Still, not doing interviews foryears does have its advantages. It means you
actually have something to say for yourself.
About how Dog Eat Dog isn't acollection ofsongs written on the move, for instance.
"When I
did Hejira, that writing year was
spent driving around in the States. I
drove
across country with acouple of friends ofmine to Maine, then to New York, and from

10

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

New York I
drove back home across country
by myself, so that year was spent writing
against amoving landscape, as was Blue.
Blue was mostly written in Europe, in Greeceand France. It has alot of longing for goingback to America.
"Dog Eat Dog is avery domestic American
album in acertain way, it has aglobal overview
but mainly it was written... married, settled,
staying home alot, watching alotta television,
which puts you in contact with millions ofother people watching television. You are therecipient of communications that are goingout that alot of people are picking up."
Dog... finds Mitchell handling some big anddisturbing topics alongside her more familiar
personal cryptograms. The sound is weighted
towards some sort of rock mainstream, unlike

Mingus or Don Juan's Reckless Daughter,so in that respect it follows on logically fromher last recording,1982's Wild Things Run
Fast. Mitchell's musician husband Larry Klein
appears as co-producer, writer and musician,while Thomas Dolby also figures prominently
among guests with famous names like Don
Henley, James Taylor, saxman Wayne Shorterand even actor Rod Steiger, enlisted to enact
the role of an ultra-right-wing evangelist on"Tax Free".
The growth of the TV preachers andthe Moral Majority with all its hideous
hawkishness has alarmed Mitchell morethan somewhat. Achild of the flower-power
years, she still cherishes the American idealof plurality of thought and deed. She's
Canadian herself, of course.

"The ideals of the '6os and '7os have atrueand clear enemy in this new idea, absolutely
focused," she says grimly, exhaling ajet of
Camel smoke. She admits to being achain
smoker, and evidently can't kick the habit.
"I guess people, finding that there was an
emptiness in their lives, and alack ofcommunity in acertain way, turned to thechurches and the more flamboyant of these
speakers. Looking for wholesomeness,looking for something that perhaps had
been lost in America with the family unit
disintegrating and so on, they turned tothis idea of the paternal figure at the headof the family, the wife in the kitchen and thechildren coming up, and temperance.
"This idea seemed to flower and expand.
Alotta people stopped drinking, becameborn-again Christians."
And the perfect father was, of course,
Ronald Reagan, who has been at pains tocourt the evangelists of the new right as
publicly as possible.
"A lot of people think Reagan's anice guy,"says Mitchell, wryly. "Neil Young thinks he's
anice guy." She pauses before adding:"He's an actor, y'know." She rocks back in her
seat, laughing.
In retrospect,1985 might be remembered
as the year when rock finally faced afew
facts about itself. It was no longer radical or
unruly, but had become institutionalised andsafe. But it still wielded enormous media
clout and earning power, factors with huge
potential if suitably harnessed.
Joni Mitchell decided rock ought to speak
up against the preachers and zealots trying
to emasculate it further and subject it toself-righteous censorship of the mostobnoxious kind. Hence "Tax Free" -"Tonight
I'm going dancing with the drag queens andthe punks/Big beat deliver me from thissanctimonious skunk"
On the other hand, the Live Aid and Sun City
operations left her with some reservations,though she took part in aCanadian Band Aid
project. She was asked to appear on the Sun
City disc, but then discovered that theoriginal lyric went like this: "Linda
Ronstadt, how could you do that?/ Rod
Stewart, tell me that you didn't do it/
Julio Iglesias, you oughta be ashamed
to show your face/Queen and The°jays, what you got to say?"
Linda Ronstadt is an old friend of
Mitchell's, part of the whole LA/
Asylum/Geffen crowd, and Joni wasdamned if she was going to have her
pilloried on disc. She declined to takepart, and insists Ronstadt's visit to Sun
City was undertaken in all innocenceon the basis of "art should cross any
border". Perhaps Linda's watched the
Sun City video by now, which ought tohave rocked her ivory tower.
Meanwhile, Joni's song "Ethiopia" isdesigned to put that godforsaken
hellhole into some kind of global
context. She reckons
the world's in acritical
ecological state, withthe oceans turning
toxic, eradicable
nuclear pollution

everywhere and the rain forests coming down
in tons. But how much impact does she expect
asong like this to have? Live Aid and Sun City
seem to have set some wheels in motion, but
who does her song really influence?
"Well, there's the appearance of wheels inmotion and then there's the actual motion.
For instance, Bangladesh [the concert for]appeared to set wheels in motion, right..."
And the money disappeared.
"No it didn't disappear, it went into escrow.
It was just released in1984.1t was held all thattime -by who, for what, who got the interest I
don't know, but the fact was wheels appeared
to go into motion but the direct influence on
the cause was all an illusion.
"The same with the No
Nukes festival. There wasabig to-do and amovie andathis and athat, but thefunds have amysterious
way of being snatched bygovernment and being
disarmed along the way by,
if not the government of
the country from which
they emanate, then the
country to which they go. There's ahundredand-one ways to stop the ball in motion."
So you think this will happen to Sun City?
"Well, I
don't know. All I
know is we just findout these things after the fact.Idon't know
how much good it does. It certainly seems toelevate people's spirits and they can feel likethey're doing something anyway. That in itself
is something."
Sceptical or what? Tell it to Bob Geldof andwatch his blood boil. Mitchell isn't optimistic
about the state of the world. Nuclear
disarmament, for instance: "Even if themiracles happened and both sides said, 'Yes,
yes, we've been fools all along and we must lay
down our arms", what do they do with all thecrap that they've got? All of that stuff is toxic.
Where are you gonna put it? And supposing
they get the bright idea they'll ship it into
outer space and blow it up out there. With theforces being what they are out there, it's thesame ideas as the oceans -'Oh, we'll dump itin the ocean, the ocean is so big.' Well, nothingis so big. Even the universe isn't so big that
one of those little bangs isn't gonna create
some kind of chain reaction out there."Not much to look forward to, then, though
it seems Joni may just be going through aparticular phase of doomwatching. She once
had areputation as akind of professional
bleeding heart whose albums were chunksof her personal diary set to music, thinlyveiled accounts of her liaisons with various
rock'n'roll personalities. As her music grew
more complex and idiosyncratic, her lyrics
developed abroader
reach and sought out lessobvious targets.
But, she cautions:"Imaygo back to bleeding all overthe public at any moment"(laughs). "The thing that's
peculiar is what I'm trying
to do. I'm trying to do it in a
pop context and apparently
that's unusual. It they wereshort stories they wouldn't
be unusual at all, and unless it's acase of
Hemingway where they go picking through allof his short stories to link it up to his own life,
most of the time they blessedly take ashortstory at face value as ashort story."
So it won't surprise you to learn that Mitchellis considering devoting herself, for1986, to
having abash at some short stories. She says
she's been devouring volumes of otherpeople's lately, by writers including Raymond
Carver and the great John Cheever.
"My work is acombination of fiction andautobiography -alot of the names are theactual names of friends and acquaintances,some are fictionalised and some aren't.
"How do you figure the whole puzzle out?
How much of it is fact or autobiography,
and how much of it is theatre or fiction? And
what difference does it make as long as it's
agood piece?
"I'm trying to write short stories
or small movies, I
guess, in the pop
song idiom. Because I
have thismusical ability, I've decided to usethat form to communicate. It creates
all kinds of difficulties because it's somuch more of apublic life than thatof ashort-story writer. They tend to
confuse the artist with the art morein this idiom than any other."
And if writing fiction doesn't workout, she can still go back to her
painting, an increasingly importantpart of her life in any case. She refers
to this juggling of creative media as"crop rotation". "David Geffen said
to me once that I
was the only star heever met that didn't want to be one,"she observed. "The reluctant star,y'know." But it seems to suit her justfine. Adam Sweeting"I'm trying towrite short stories
or small movies,
I
guess, in the
pop song idiom"«dog day afternoon))

1986

JA NU WO"

"We wentabit
high-tech"
What's the truth about?As theband enjoy the successof Low-Life, they reveal
themselves as an aspiringrock pig, apatriot andtwo humble, self-effacing
musicians. "We'reprobably worse miming
than we are playing,"says Stephen Morris.

12 IHISTORY OF k

MELODY MAKER '

B

2'

L

YSTEPHEN MORRIS'S
account, New Order are veryshy. Very, very shy, in fact. I'dsuggested to Morris, who's the
drummer, that New Orderoften seem aloof, even entirely
dismissive of their audiences. They play theirsongs, stop and walk off. End of story.
"Er..." said Morris, wincing in the general
direction of the floor. "Very, very shy..."Is that right?
"Certainly is. 'Cos you're just beingyourself on
stage. It would be quite easy to go, 'Are yafeelin'
alright!' and all that, but... Good grief, no! I
don't thinkwe've been aloof. You can't reallyignore an audience, it's alittle bit intimidating,so you tend to find yourself getting annoyedback because you're feeling intimidated."
Listening to New Order's thirdand finest album, Low-Life, it'sdifficult to believe they could be soeasily cowed. Its predecessor, 1983's
Power Corruption And Lies, waspretty potent stuff too, including as
it did "Age Of Consent" and theenduring "Your Silent Face". But
Low-Lzfe seemed bigger, assured
and at ease with itself. Perhaps it
had taken New Order this long tofind themselves, develop anew
forward-looking vision andexorcise the Ghost Of Cu rtis Past.
I
Peter Hook: "It was like the old'getting back into writing' thing
after Joy Division, and finally now »"We're still Joy Division:
there's no dif ferenceapart from the obviousone": New Order(c/wise)Gillian Gilbert,Peter Hook, Stephen
Morris and Bernard
Albrecht/Sumner

JANUttfri

Performing "StateOf The Nation" and"Broken Promise"on The Tube in1986

we're back to how we were before he died. We're confident about
everything that we do now, so that's nice. We feel we can rely on eachother, if you like."
So it took alongtime to shake off the past?
"Erm... Idon't think it took as long as people thought. You still get
people who say, 'Ah, New Order are shit, Joy Division are the best.' But
we're still Joy Division, there's no difference apart from the obvious one."
One chilly December night, New Orderwere on home turf at The
Haçienda in Manchester, playing two sets for the paying punters andhaving acouple of numbers dropped into the WhistleTestlive.
We arrived for the soundcheck. Bernard Albrecht picked up aguitar,plugged it in and began to chug out some of his trademark throaty chords.
Morris pottered about at his drumkit, firing off the occasional burst of
drum machine, adjusting cymbals, tightening knobs and checking hisbanks of gadgets. The ghostly Gillian fingered asynthesizer impassively.
Manager Rob Gretton, akind of hippy Jack Hargreaves, looked on with his
hands in his pockets.
It was the arrival of Peter Hook that abruptly set the chemistry in motion.
Hook, unshaven, gingery-blond hair tied back and flopping over the collarof his heavy black leather biker's jacket, is part Monster Of Rock, part Ian
Botham when he has an Australian in his sights. He wears his bass lowslung, treating it more like atrail bike than amusical instrument.
The sound is something else. According to Bunnymen bassist Les
Pattinson, Hook plugs his bass through every device available, and it hits
you like afalling log, asoaring, supercharged cudgel of sound. It seems topush back the walls and raise the ceiling, giving everybody else room to
do whatever they like, secure in the knowledge that asound like that
couldn't possibly let you down.
Hook unloosed afewvolleys of notes, then the group dropped inbehind his zooming riff for anew song called "As It IsAnd When It Was".
Apowerful and spacious piece, it bears more than apassing resemblance
to "Love Will Tear Us Apart". Hook grinned evilly to himself. Some
Whistle Testpersonnel paused to listen, dressed, of course, in the
obligatory media-punk style. New Order don't even seem to look at eachother while they play, but they must be listening. Suddenly they've
become shockingly good, full of confidence and guts.
"I never noticed that until somebody pointed it out to me, funnily
enough," said Hook after the second set. "OurAmerican agent itwas
E: -she said, 'Play that 'Love Will Tear UsApart' one.' Ithought, 'Fuckin''ell, yeah, it is! Wild!' That was one we played on the WhistleTest,it'sareally good song. Just shows you, you can rip yourself off, even ifyou`2à do it unconsciously."

14 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

Better than having Trevor Horn doing it foryou. Hook laughed
expansively. He's not easy to feel at ease with, though talkative enough.
Even his gestures of relaxation seem exaggerated- he answers somequestions too quietly, he leans back alittle too far in his chair, eyes you
with amocking grin. He makes you aware you're under scrutiny.
"People thinkwe're very awkward because we won't do things. I'm notgonna do your photographs because Idon't feel like it. Idon't mind
talking. Ifeel like talking because I've been in the studio every night for
two weeks, but !just don't feel like having me picture took.
"I don't do anything unless I
want to do it. Ido it sometimes for an easy
life, when you're too fucked to argue about it or something. But you
always regret it in the morning."
That seems like afairly macho attitude to life.
"Could be, mmmm," Hook agreed readily. "You're probably right. Butthat might be down to the fact that Ican get away with it, because of theway Factoryworks. If any of us didn't want to do something, the others
wouldn't expect him to do it. Because, y'know, what's the point? There's
no point in playing acertain song if someone really doesn't want to do it."

The Press
BERNARD: "WE HAD areport from WOMAD in your newspaper
which gave us areally shitey review. Ibet you don't print this, but she
was actually completely out of her box drunk, blacked out when wewere playing. And she gave us areally bad review. She wasn't even
there, which Ifound particularly annoying. She said we never did anencore. Idon't like people who lie."Peter: "It's interesting to talk to people who are interested in what you're
doing, whether they thin kyou're shit or whether they think you're great.
You can learn something. That Sounds guy recently- he was atotal turd.
He hadn't listened to the LP and he was interviewing us about it, which I
thought was absolutely disgusting for arock weeklywhich is supposed to
be informing people about what's happening in modern music.
"He was saying to me, 'The songs on Low-Lifearea lot more optimistic
than the ones on Power CorruptionAndLies, why's that?' I
said, 'Well, I
don't think they are. There's alot of really up songs on Power.... That's nottrue.' And he said, 'Well, the lyrics are more optimistic.' I
said, 'I don't
think so, Idon't think that's true.' Then he said, 'Well, Ihaven't actually
heard it, the subeditor told me to ask you that.'"That was where the thing about the fight came in, which was fuckin'bullshit anyway. If we'd had afight I'd have ripped his fuckin' head off,
he was awimp. But he sort of steered it round as if to say he offered meout! The whole thingwas pathetic. It came across in the interview, it was

NEW ORDER

apathetic interview. They've asked us to do another one and I'm notsurprised, 'cos he just got nothing out of it.
"He was acomplete dicichead, he wasn't doing his job. It comes down
to respect, doesn't it?You seem alright to talk to, you don't seem too bad.
Quite interesting, y'knowwhat Imean?" You're too kind. "But he wasn't
interesting-he just did it very badly, so he got treated badly. What do you
expect?Ask someonejokey questions andyou're gonna get jokey answers."
New Order have perhaps been dogged by their reluctance to explain
themselves, or to give anybody much idea ofwhat they're really like. With
the exception of Hook, though, they seem genuinely introverted, evenpainfully so. They and the Bunnymen are mutual fans, not necessarily tothe point of loving every song the other has recorded, but because of asense that they share the same attitude. Les Pattinson came over toManchester for the Haçienda appearance, on the eve of the Bunnymen's
British tour. Hook's rock'n'roll star stage gyrations amuse him greatly,presumably in contrast to his own onstage passivity.

The Haçienda
BERNARD: "WE'VE GOT money invested in it. The original idea wasthat it was aloose club where you could go and hear loose music, notstiff music, and also you didn't have to get dressed up to go. Anyone
could come here, anyone at all."
Q: So it's anti TheFacetype of attitude?
Bernard: "Yeah, but people like that can come as well. Originally weintended it to be abit more of avenue, but it's turned out to be more of adisco than avenue. It was also just to establish ascene in Manchester,
maybe like in the early days of Factorywhen we 'ad aclub which is now
called the Russell Club, which was then called The Factory, in Moss Side.
But that got abit rough, people gettin' beat up outside and mugged."Peter: "The idea ofThe Haçienda was aclub that wasn't accompanied
by any bullshit, where you could get in dressed as you like, which
Manchester at the time didn't have. It didn't have aclub where you could
go out. Inever used to fuckin' get in anywhere, except if there was agig,
then they'd let you in. The Haçienda was the first club where you could getin dressed as you liked. And I
had to fuckin' open it!
"Now in Manchester all the clubs are like that, The Haçienda has had areally good effect on Manchester as awhole. Again, I
think it's important
to show that you're willing to put something back in. We work really hardon this place. Ido the sound system meself, the PAfor the disco and things
like that. It's good 'cos you can learn to do something that's different, as
opposed to just knowing about being in agroup. You're learning how aclub runs. You gather awealth of experience."
In the bowels of The Haçienda, NewOrder sat quietlywith various
friends and associates. The tables were covered with beer bottles andRizla packets. Stephen Morris and Gillian were perched next to eachother on afaded sofa, talking so quietly that they might have been
conversing telepathically. Albrecht wanderedover and said hello, looking quizzical and wideeyed. "Anyone seen Hooky?" he asked.
"He went home," said Gillian.
"Hope he's here soon," said Bernard.
Two minutes later, the door thumped openand Hook strode in, scarved and leathered.
"Evening all," he said cheerfully. There was asense of tension lifting. Theywere on stage in 15
minutes, and TV doesn't like to be kept waiting.
Factory supremo TonyWilson flitted aboutbusily, abrusque, fast-talldng figure who likes todo everything at once. No doubt Paul Morleylearned athing or two from Wilson back in his
Manchester days, like howto be too bloody cleverforyourown good. Without NewOrder,, Factory
would probably bite the dust. As it is, the company
remains agreat Mancunian curiosity, aquirlcy
throwback to the arty days of post-punk somehow
threading its way through the revisionist mid-'80s.

Seriously?
"Patriot, mate. I'm apatriot."
You'd really have gone?
"If it wasn't for the group or me family, yeah."That's avery unfashionable thing to say.
"Yeah, Iknow it is, but I
don't believe in bullying, I
don't believe inaggression. I
thinkArgentina was aggressive. It's real unfashionable, buttheyshouldn't have done what they did."Have you got friends in the army?
"Yeah. Me cousin David's in the army. He's in Germany."
So does all this somehow relate to "Love Vigilantes", then la tale ofasoldier returning fromwarl ?
"Yeah, I
suppose it does in away. Ibelieve basically that war's wrong,fighting's wrong, but defendingyourself isn't wrong. If someone hit me,
I'd hit 'em back, I
think most people would. Personal opinion. Imean, no
one condemned the British for fighting the Germans in World War Two,and it was right what they did. It was fuckin' right.
"But suddenly it's not right if the British stand up for their own territory
in the Falklands. It's easy to sit on your arse in awarm, comfortable livingroom and take one side or another, but the basic fact is that Argentina wasaggressive and we weren't. They took the first initiative."
What about the argument that Mrs Thatcherwent to war in the
Falklands purely for political gain?
"Oh, Ithinkwhat Mrs Thatcher did was really bad. It's really bad that
she's come out of it with credit. She should have been kicked out ofgovernment because of it. It should never have happened, part of it was
her fault, but nevertheless Argentina shouldn't have invaded aneutral
or foreign country. It's like someone walking into your house and saying,'This is my house now.'"I mean, I
don't condone things like Vietnam. Iain't afookin' militarymaniac. But if someone invades your country it's not fair, is it? People
said the Falklands was over land, but it wasn't, it was about all the British
people who lived there. They didn't want theArgentinians there."
It might have been over oil, too. There's oil down there.
"Yeah, that's the perfect cynical viewpoint to jump to."War's apretty cynical thing. Seeing the Falklands veterans with melted
faces is nauseating. Shouldn't we be past all that now?
"I thinkwe should be past it. War is disgusting, it's really disgusting.
But you've got to defendyourself. You're always right ifyou don't take thefirst action. It's the people who take the first action who disgust me. I've
never attacked anyone in my life."
And as for"Love Vigilantes"...
"It's very tongue-in-cheek, it's like arebel song but it's very tongue-incheek. It's kinda laughing at rednecks. From what I
said you may construe
it to mean that I'm aredneck. lam not aredneck, I
assure you, and 'Love
Vigilantes' is like laughing at rednecks. The more ridiculous my lyrics are,the less serious the song is.""The moreridiculous mylyrics are, theless serious
the song is"

Lite During Wartime
WOULD YOU EVER move away from
Manchester, Bernard?
"Not at the moment. I
did think ofjoining up
when the Falklands conflict was on. That was thenearest thing."

Roots
BERNARD: "ORIGINALLY WE come frompunk roots, which Iliked because it didn't
exclude anyone. It didn't matter what you
looked like, whether you were fat or thinor ugly or beautiful. It was really down-toearth, really down-to-earth. It was very anti
grown-ups at the time, but Ithink it was really
good. We still believe in it and this is our way
of showing that we still believe in it. We don't
believe in snobbery, to put it simply. Or elitism.
We've been accused of being elitist, which
we're not."New Order performed with transcendent
power that night. They'd completed astring ofBritish dates only acouple of weeks before, butalready they'd completely rearranged the set andshoved in several impressive new songs. The
Haçienda couldn't have been designed to makewatching agroup more uncomfortable. Balconies,
stairs and the slightly raised dancing area were
crammed and impassable. Ribs and girders block
your view from several angles.
But you could still feel the sheer torque theywere
generating on stage. The veteran "Temptation" has »HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I15

1986

JAN UAR1 - MeH

never sounded better, aeuphoric gallop of chattering electronics
whipped by thrashing chords. "Shame Of The Nation", or possibly"Shame Of ANation", will probably be the next single, and is as terse
asong as the group have written.
The newest songs seem immense, giant structures of soundencompassing long climactic instrumental passages. Albrecht
doesn't have to worry too much about singing, and hunches twistedly
over his guitar as his hands scrabble spastically across the strings.
Hook does the splits, Iron Maiden style, over his bass. Gillian is
improbably still, busy channelling New Order's new technology into
strong, glittering patterns, while Morris batters away at the backamong his kit and his machinery.
The sense of aimlessness they sometimes used to display has gone,
and if the songs are getting longer now it's because the group havelearned how to manipulate atmosphere.

Audiences
PETER: "I DON'T feel any compulsion to pander to them, Idon't
see the point. 'Cos most of them are real cunts -they shout atyer, they scream at yer, they spit at yer, they throw bottles at yer.
Imean, alot of them aren't, it's like typecasting your audience,but the point is the ones who just stand there and listen you
never get to meet, do yer? The fucking loudmouths who arethrowing and spitting and screaming 'Warsaw' and fucking'Transmission' -it's really boring.
"Some cunt tonight shouted 'Warsaw'. Must think they're
being really clever. Dickheads. The world's full of people,
unfortunately.""There might be another Sex Pistols," said Peter Hookwhimsically later that night. "We might be the next Pistols. What
anice thought."
You might be the next Genesis.
Hook chortled. "That's what alot of people say we are. The next
Mike Oldfield. The next Mike Oldfields. But it's arotten business.
I'm glad I'm out °fit, to be honest. I
watch Top OfThe Pops and Ifeel
very far removed. The funny thing was I
had real good fun doing Top
OfThe Pops. It was agreat day, really enjoyable, and even though it
didn't sound that great because we played live, to me that was one of thebiggest achievements.
"I watch bands like Orchestral Manoeuvres that started the same time
we did and were on Factory. They could have done exactly the same as we
did, but they took the easyway out and signed to Dindisc and got ahuge
advance, and they were coming over and apologising to us for miming.
Which I
thought was really funny. Everyone did -Kajagoogoo andHuman League, apologising to you for miming. Saying, 'We wanted toplay live but we thought it was abit tricky.' We must be striking something
really deep within 'em to annoy 'em."
Stephen Morris remembers that day like this.
"We played live not really for any strong sense of comm itment, like KeepMusic Live or anything like that-it was just that we'd feel complete andutter prats miming. We're probablyworse mim ing than we are playing,so... we just don't want to mime."
In Morris's determinedly low-key version
CCof events, New Order proceed almost
inadvertently forwards, avoiding humiliationand self-abasement at all costs. They've avoided
putting their name to the assorted good causes
available to today's rock star, though they've
done anAids benefit recently.
"That's right," muttered Morris. "We haven't
really. There's things that are obviously goodcauses and deserve attention, but we're not sortof fucking crusading about anything, really.
'Convictions cause convicts.' We try to be openminded, really."
The "Nazi" slurs flung at both New Order andFactorywouldn't have anything to do with thisheads-down policy, I
suppose?
"That just got to be ajoke after awhile, because everybody knew it
wasn't true," Morris responded. "We just used to get really, really fed up
with it. It's alright when it's being directed at you, but when it's being
directed at everybody on Factory, y'know, you feel abit sick."Why has the group got so good lately?

shellshock"We've just been working hard, I
suppose. In fact, it seems like longer
than recently. It seems like forever."
New Order reinvest asubstantial
amount of their income in new
equipment, which sounds great but
takes abit of getting to know. "It drives
me piggin' mad actually," said Stephen. "It takes up considerably moretime than playing something or making something up. The time it takes
is unbelievable really. You find you rself getting abit more musicalbecause you've got to communicate with amachine. It's got to speak alanguage, and the people who make the machines decided the accepted
notation of music was the way they'd do it. You found yourself being
forced to get abit more musical, so Isuppose we got abit better.
"Fortunatelywe've got some reliable stuff now, it doesn't break down somuch. But when it breaks down, God! One could have kittens. Sequencers
and stuff you can do alot with, but they become... Y'know, everythingthat you listen to has got one, which is ashame, but people are funny Iikethat. Everybody sort ofleaps in on things like punk and whatever, and allof asudden there's loads of things that are all very nearly the same."
You can get aglimpse of an earlier New Order in their Taros Shetichenko
video, shot at the Ukrainian National Home in New York in 1981 (it'sreleased on Factory's video offshoot, Ikon). The performances are roughbut forceful, primitive stuff in comparison to
the post-Low-Life New Order.
"I quite liked that video," observed Morris,"because by the time it came out it was ahistorical document, it was years gone by.
Ithought it was quite good really, but Ithink
the Joy Division one was better because it's got
abit more crudity about it. Some of the Super 8
footage is really good because it's tacky, because
it's there, and it's not planned."
There was one question I
had to ask. Why did
Ian Curtis always look fuzzy or totally invisible
in photos of Joy Division?
"He actually looked like that, strange to say,"said Morris, unperturbed. "I can't say I've
noticed. Ican't stand looking at photographs.
Idon't really like looking at videos. It's like when you hearyourvoicerecorded on tape, you go, 'That's not mer and videos are the same thing
onlyworse. Oh God, no! Ifind it abit embarrassing."
The band's changed alot though, even since that Ukrainian Home video?
"Yeah. We went abit high-tech. It's quite quaint, 'cos in that video all that
stuffwas hand-made, it's all held together with apiece of string, literally.

very single
word, Ibelieve
it whether
its out of tune
or not"16 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

NEV ORDER

Septemberig8o:achieving balance
during ashootfor
TheFacemagazine-There was nothing so complicated as apolyphonic sequencer oranything like that, it was cottage-industry stuff. Not even aDrumatix[drum machine], it was before all that. So when the Drumatix came in,
my God!You'd give your right arm for aDrumatix.
"We had gadgets when we were Joy Division, they were just slightly
lower- budget gadgets. We used to have alittle synthesizer and alittle
Woolworths organ which always came in handy for things, and thefavourite of all was the Shin-ei fuzz pedal so beloved of The Jesus And
Mary Chain -yes, you're onto awinner there!A classic. It had 'Shin-Ei
Fuzz' written on it, it was great."

Politics
PETER: "I THINK the only politics I'm interested in are Factory
politics. 'Cos that's what's nearest and dearest to my heart, if you like.
I'm more interested in what's going on around me, that Ican affect,than some fucking... I've seen all this socialism bullshit that Paul
Weller goes on about..."Q:
Why is it bullshit?
Peter: "Because it doesn't do it to the people around him. You go on
his tour and it's just run like anormal rock'n'roll tour- rock'n'roll excess,everything that's fucking bad about it. And how he can fucking spout onabout socialism and things like that and then he doesn't do anything
about the things he can change in the way that he runs his business...
"I mean, Paul Weller is areally big business, y'know what I
mean, andhe's got the power just with what he does to affect alot of people's lives.
Like what you meant about The Haçienda here. But he doesn't. It's likecharity should start at home. You tell other people what to do and don'tpractise ityourself- that's really bad."
Bernard Albrecht sipped his tea, then let his shoulders sag and sighedheavily. "God, I'm so tired," he said weakly. "This will be the strangest
interviewyou've ever done," he'd promised as he led the way through thelabyrinthine basement of The Haçienda to aneon-lit corridor about four
feet wide. We sat in chairs facing each other. It was like an interrogation
scene from Midnight Express.
"It's quiet here," Albrecht explained. He looked
about 14 years old, and spoke in afragile whisper.
"Bernie's funny," said Mac once. "He just sits andlooks at yer, like he's alittle kid or something."I
didn't dare speak too loud in case he dropped
dead in front of me. The group had been holed up in
the studio for afortnight, workingwith American
producer John Robie on some new material,
including asong for amovie called Pretty In Pink.
Robie, aregular collaborator withArthur Baker,
wrote the music for "Planet Rock" and Freeez's "IOU".

He was also responsible for the thundering 12-inch remix of "SubCulture", amasterpiece according to some (me) but evidently aboneof contention within the group. Robie had cracked the whip over
Bernard's vocal, and also added some belting female singers to beef
up the choruses. Bloody good idea, because Albrecht's voice,although apparentlyfrail in the appropriate dosage, has often been
the weak link in the New Order equation.
"John gives you discipline, and then Ican put my own expression
onto that discipline, whereas what I've been doing in the past is no
discipline, just expression, complete expression. If it's out of tune,
alot of people won't listen to it. Ido admit that alot of what Ising is outof tune, but every single word, every syllable that Ising, I
believe it
whether it's out of tune or not.
"He's shown me that what you can do with vocals is stress apoint.
You don't have to shout, you can use amelody to stress apoint. He's
just shown me another way of doing the same thing, really."
New Order maintain adelicate balance between the cool precisionof their machines, Albrecht's erratic vocals and the occasional
raggedness of their playing. Is it acase of deliberately pitting humanerror against microchip perfection?
Albrecht chuckled. "Not deliberately. Errr... it's adifficult one, that.
Don't know, I
just do it. But I'm abit of alazy bastard, so anything
that's difficult I'd rather..."Do you practise the guitar?
"Never, no. Inever sit and practise anything. I
hate it. But whether
that's agood thing or abad thing is open to debate. But I
think us asagroup and John as aproducer suffer from the same thing, which isthat we don't actually get recognised enough, but the people that rip
us off get recognised more than we do. Idon't like to name names, but wehave been ripped off, and the people who ripped us off are more
successful than us."But you're pretty successful anyway, surely? Does it reallyworry youthat much?
"I don't worry about that at all, but if you've got achance to put it rightyou should put it right."
Is tenacity aMancunian characteristic?
"It's everybody's characteristic. You've got to float on top of the water,
not underneath it."
When the group aren't working, Albrecht claims to do as little aspossible for long periods of time.
"I'm acomplete and utter lazy bastard, and if we're not recording1 don't
do anything, I
just think alot, lie in bed and think alot."
Do you read books?
"I'm really bad at reading, 'cos Iread really slowly-I think very slowly,
actually. But two years ago Idecided that television was complete andutter rubbish, garbage, and that Ishould read more. So for the past two
years I've been trying to read, and it takes me about six months to read abook. That's not ajoke, it actually does. I'm very slow, Idon't know why.
"The last full book Iread was The White Hotel by that guy DM Thomas,
which is really good but it's really disturbing. It's about acase study ofFreud's. And I've been trying to read abook about Van Gogh called Lust
For Life.I just feel like if someone's remained through history, if they're
still well known afteryears and years, then you should know about them.
And! just wanted to know about him, even though it's anovel. It's basedon his life, but it isn't all factual."
You sayyou're not elitist, but it looks like it sometimes. Iremember ashow at BrixtonAcademywhere New Order treated the audience withutter contempt.
"No, Iwas contemptuous of ourselves, actually. It was the first time
we'd played in, like... These are things nobody ever knows, but it was thefirst time we'd played in three or four months. It was areally bad gig, wethought we played really badly. I
just felt ashamed.
I
felt mad at myself, Ididn't feel mad at the audience.
When I
get mad, people construe it as being aloof andsnotty, but I'm not. Iget mad at myself alot."
Aperfectionist?
"No, I
just believe you should put your heart into
something if you're gonna do it. But partly it was myfault for having the wrong attitude. When you doagig, you should do liso that you enjoy the music
when you're playing, enough so that you can play themusic well. If you enjoy what you're doing, it's easy."
Adam Sweating •

>e;
fei

5:

HISTORY 01 ROCK 1986

17

1986

JANUARY -e

Januaryi8,1986:
The Replacements
onSaturdayNight
Live- (1-r)Tommy
Stinson, Chris Mars,Paul Westerberg
andBobStinsonll

"We're not
emuses"Erratic, eclectic,
THE REPLACEMENTS areagreat new rock'n'rollband. Will the world learn«their genius before theirwn nature derails them?
We have adifferent wayof going about things,"
says PAUL WESTERBERG.
"We're the only band
worth ashit that
doesn't care what's
gonna happen."táS'e>e,

1986

"T

NME

HEY TRYTO teach you everything they think
you should know and none of the things you
want to know. There wasn't aclass on
rock'n'roll, and that was the only thing Iloved
and cared about, so Ijust didn't study. Chris is
an artist, so he took art. And as for Bob andTommy, they're interested in... nothin'.
"I can honestly say there was nothin' I
wanted to know. The only thingthat interested me was history-Indians, things like that. I
don't know
why. I
feel sorry as far as Ican't spell very well. I
feel embarrassed when,like, we had to go to Canada and had to fill out some forms, and I
wassweating-the guyhad to fill them out for me. Ican't spell aword of morethan one syllable correctly. It's things like that I
wish I'd listened to alittle.
I'm aborderline illiterate..."Paul Westerberg is far from stupid. He is, however, of that breed almost
entirely extinct (in Britain, at least) outside the heavy metal fortress: Paul
Westerberg is asolid-gold easy-action through-and-through rocker. He is
entirely without side; nor does his band, The Replacements, disclose any
extra-musical trapdoors to admit or debar ideological/stylistic elites.
Their lack of non-rock ideology is almost an ideology in itself.
"I frankly don't care about it. I
don't mean to come on like Idon't careabout anything but myself, but I'm avery simple person. Idon't know. It
doesn't interest me. Ihate to sound so one-dimensional, but playin'rock'n'roll and bein' happy with my life at home with my girlfriend, that's
what I
care about. Idon't care about the state of the world an' stuff.
"I'm not blind to injustice, but Idon't know what to do about it and I'm
not some self-righteous person that's going to go out and try to change theworld. I
don't like to put the band in the position that they have to standfor this or that; Idon't buy that shit. To me, that makes rock'n'roll
somethin' that it shouldn't be.
"Reagan? I
like him.A president, to me, should look good. I
like the factthat he dyes his hair and wears makeup. Seriously! He's not supposed tohave abrain, he's just supposed to look good an' shit. I'd rather have anactor as president than apolitician. I
like Nixon too! Ha ha!I don't know
anythin' about politics and I
know he was dishonest, but, y'know, there's
how many dishonest people in the music business? Those are the ones that
get ahead. I'm not saying that's good, but... aaah, fuck it, I'd better shut up."
Better had, Paul. For what it's worth, that kind of hairy armpit talk goes
down like abucket of cold sick with the well-tempered NMEreader. And
while Iapplaud his honesty, Ican onlywring my hands that Paul
Westerberg is so damned narrow. But then why should the artists one
admires be as hip, aware and bleeding-heart right-on as oneself? Just ask
Mark ESmith. Then again, maybe better not.

So forget Red Wedge and Farm Aid for now. Because this is, as thepurists among you constantly point out, New MUSICAL Express, and if
you can show me amore rootin' tootin' new musical combo burning theboards anywhere on the planet right now, I'll kiss your arse.

Left of the dial
CALIFORNIA ISAN earthly paradise, especially right nowwhen backhome Blighty resounds with the clang of balls dropping off brassmonkeys. One small cloud, though, sullies an otherwise clear blue sky:
try as Imight, all Ican pick up on the radio is K-RAP, K-BLAND,K-ZZZZZ... Wasn't it the Sunshine State that brought us Wolfman Jack?
But nowJefferson Starship drools the waves, and the nearest I
get toAmerican Graffitiis achance hearing of "White Rabbit" on an oldies
station. Like, cosmic coincidence, maaan...
Into this vacuum step The Replacements. Because if there's one thing
better than the hallowed rock'n'roll radio whose disappearance was so
eloquently mourned by The Ramones, then it's got to be the living,breathing rebellious jukebox that is The Replacements.
Covers? They got 'em. They got covers like you wouldn't believe. They
got covers that'll cause you to rethink entirely your index of cool, that'll
have you ransacking the unhippest deposit boxes in your memory banks.
You will be convinced that Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" and"Heartbreaker", when properly executed with swagger and aplomb, canbe the holiest moments in one's earthly existence; that Alice Cooper's"I'm Eighteen", Bachman Turner Overdrive's "Takin' Care Of Business"and "Black Diamond" by Kiss are masterpieces of the grunen'grapple
game; that Big Star's "September Gurls" is even better than they say;that The Jackson Five's "I'll Be There" can move mountains whenaccompanied by HM guitar; that if there's amore boundlessly beautifulsong than Sham 69's "Borstal Breakout", it's "Yummy Yummy" ("yummy
I've got love in my tummy") by The 1910 Fruitgum Company.
As for The Beatles' "Nowhere Man", the Stones' "Last Time", Hank
Williams' "Hey, Good Lookin", TRex's "20th Century Boy" and "TheMarching Song Of The United States Marines", their wondrousness goes
without saying.
All these and more, plus their own considerable catalogue, areperformed by The Replacements with afrenzied, contagious love that far
outstrips mere reverence. Not for them note perfection, still less theknowingwinks and ironic tweaks of those clever fellows given to theories
of kitsch and post-modernist cycles. The Replacements are not taking thepiss. Nor are they signpost ing their stance with clues to link them to a
familiar strand of the past. No, those songs are favourites, the ones thatturned them on and made them play in the first place: honest influences...
"My deepest influences are The Beatles and the Stones, then The
Supremes and The Temptations," croaks Paul Westerberg, his• "".•

Floored individual:
Paul Westerberg(lying down) of The'Mats(an alternativemonicker adopted
after some joker
referred to the bandas"The Placemats")
I/e

THE REPLACEMENTS

045 RPM
W8727'SIDE 1
band's early songs-street gangs, vandalism, minor
Midwestern drawl abraded by asteady flow of
1STEREO•Ins.
uma.
arson, the usual trouble.
America's alcohol-free but mildlycorrosive beer andt
His bass-playing brother Tommy, 19, has been in
frequent draws on aJed Clampett-style amberI
the group since its inception sixyears ago; The
stemmed pipe. "Rod Stewart was probably the first
SWINGIN PARTY
Replacement are his gang. Alippy lad with foxy goodthing Istarted listening to on my own- '71, Iwas 11.
looks, he's starting to tone down the drunken-brat
DIE REPLACEMENTS
NeverADull Momentwas the first LP I
bought, and myS.
=.1..,
7= boo,
lifestyle just when most kids are getting into its swing.
favourite record of all time isA Nod'sAs GoodAs AWink.
Drummer Chris Mars is off the sauce
Ilike the variety- there's the dumb rockers andaltogether. Aquiet, saintly guy apparently
some real pretty ballads too."much devoted to his sci-fi-flavoured art, heCatchiness is the essence ofThesuffers most keenly the burdens of stardom,
Replacements' own toons. And if you hearof cult proportions though it yet be. He andechoes of half-remembered goldies in Paul'sPaul are like temperaments.
intenselygorgeous melodies, it's not so much
"Us growing up, we were kind of loners,"
he's self-consciouslytipping his hat to an
rem inisces Paul, "and we're living out our
influence as he's failing to cover his tracks. Yet
juvenile delinquent period now. Whereas when
his toons are not pastiches or parodies: Paulwe were younger- speaking for myself andwrites from the gut with the vocabulary heprobably Chris-we were sort of introverted andabsorbed when most impressionable.
shit, and would have liked to have been in agang"That was one thing I've always liked about
but were always sort of outsiders and neverCheap Trick: Rick Nielsen was smart enough toreally belonged with any group of people."know agood riff is agood riff, and it's there for
The Replacements grew up in downtown
the taking. Why the hell not? No one's going to
Minneapolis, one of Minnesota's adjacent
come up with acool new riff: they're all rightso-called Twin Cities, the other being St Paul. Heavily settled by folk of
there- it's how many different things you can drawfrom them and put
Scandinavian and German stock, Minneapolis boasts atradition of
together. If you steal from everything, nobody can put afinger on you. It'll
thrift, hard work, plain speaking, and currently two of the most exciting
sound awful familiar, but... we're not geniuses, we're rock'n'roll fans!
rock groups in the world. Hüsker Dü is the other. Together, Hüsker Dü and"I'm not prolific at all, and writing songs is alittle more difficult now
The Replacements present two aspects of the Twin Cities: respectively,
than it used to be. Idon't like to repeat myself and Idon't like to write
po-faced and shit-faced. Rivals in their fans' eyes if not their own, eachstupid things. I
like to write things that appeal to each member of theapparently regards the other with mild disapproval centring on theband, and that's difficult: if it isn't arocker Bob doesn't like it, and if it isn't
degree of seriousness deemed appropriate for arock'n'roll band.
tuneful Chris doesn't like it. Tommy likes things that are simple, and I
like"They're real serious and we're real high," sneers Tommy. "They would
things that are honest and emotionalit's not easy."
get real disgusted with us when we would get shit-faced drunk and play
For Paul Westerberg, necessity is the mother of invention. Honesty
and not even care, whereas theywould, like, get real gung-ho and makegoes without saying; or, at least, Paul's voice is so plaintively red-raw
their statement."
and ragged that no song sounds less than heartfelt. As for tunefulness,
Some of this friction may stem from the fact that PeterJesperson, The
simplicity and rockismo, all three trip hand in hand through The
Replacements' manager and 33 per cent partner in their former record
Replacements' repertoire.
company Twin/Tone, Minneapolis's main indie label, signed the band inIndeed, they make arefreshing change from most pop musicians, who,
'81 on the strength of Paul's songs round about the same time he rejectedshould they happen to come up with agood tune, will convey it in kid
Hüsker Dü's formative offerings on the grounds that they were just a
gloves to the laciest, silkiest arrangement possible, the better to set off its
tuneless thrash. Ironically, they now find themselves labelmates: Hüsker
fragile appeal. Other musicians less fortunately blessed, like, say, Simple
Dü on WEA, The Replacements on its Seymour Stein-run subsidiary, Sire.
Minds, will place their microscopic fragments of tune beneath agiant
Thus it is that The 'Mats' latest LP, Tim, released in November, is freely
perspex pyramid of sound so as to magnify its meagre dimensions into aavailable in Britain. With its predecessor, 1984's Let It Be (no relation), thegrand illusion.
'80s has spawned its most exciting, funny and varied rock'n'roll albumsOthers, less gifted still, take their numbing lack of any kind of tune at all
essential purchases (Let It Be is released in the UK on Zippo Records). Less
and give it loads anyway in the hope that no one will notice.
consistently excellent, though still worth acquiring if you can stand the
But The Replacements write melodies so thrillsome that whole
import prices, are The Replacements' first three LPs: Sorry, Ma, Forgot To
continents of uplift and wracked passion hang on every golden chord
Take Out Thellush ('81), Stink (.
82), and Hootenanny ('83).
change. And they take them on stage or into the recording studio and
Produced byone-time Ramones drummer Tommy Erdélyi, Tim boasts
proceed to beat out seven shades of Shinola. Fucking magic.
amore layered, polished sound than that of previous albums, asmall
concession to the mighty dollar. For The Replacements are wary of therock-star image-building process to the point of paranoia. For example,
THEABOVE MOTTO is to be found among awhole selection scrawled
despite record company pressure, they categorically will not be making
on the ceiling of The Replacements' tour van, apigsty on wheels that has
apromotional video, not even alive one, because that would take thefarted down nearly every interstate inAmerica. Right now we're stoppingedge offthe first-time thrill of the real thing. Nor will they happily playoff for beer-call in adeli on Rockaway Beach (but of course!) afew miles
anywhere larger than the size of place you can project to the back ofoutside San Francisco on our way to take photographs at Devil's Slide.
without looking agrotesque wally to the people up at the front.
The ideal place to meet the band, n'est-ce pas?
Another inherent limit on The Replacements' buck-potential is their
Paul we know. He is genuinely-as distinct from artfully- scruffy. By
self-deprecation. Check out their LP titles. Check out the history of theirnight the band is fuelled on crank, beer 'n' blow; in daylight hours Paulown name: they used to be The Impediments, for crying out loud, until
plays at George Burns with the help of an evil-smelling stogie wedged inadrunken performance at achurch hall gig for recovering alcoholics
his gob like asmouldering turd. At 26 he comes over twice as old; more
made the name mud all over town. So they had to, ahem, replace it.
like awry, rumbling veteran who digs the company of youngsters.
Incredible but true.
About the same age, Bob Stinson plays lead guitar to Paul's rhythm.
"You can lump us in with Hüsker Dü and REM [whose Peter Buck has"Bob is an excellent rock guitar player but aterrible musician,"long championed The 'Mats, as has John Doe OM, but really there's notlaughs Paul. "He doesn't know the difference between aminor andawhole lotta bands you can lump us in with if you get to know us," reckons
amajor chord."
Paul. "We have definitely adifferent way of going about things.
"Bob is the goofy one, areal goofball," adds younger brother Tommy"We are the only band worth ashit that doesn't really care what's gonna
Stinson with glee. "He has moments when he's totally off his rocker! He's
happen. We're just as much afraid of gettin' big as we are of floppin'. If wethe Keith Moon of the group."
went down the toilet tomorrow, Idon't think we'd be as sad as 99 per centActually, Bob is the Duane Doberman of the group, the butt of all theirof the bands in the world."
jokes. Big, genial, slightly reserved, he's also the only Replacement to"That's why we're such agood band," beams Tommy. mat.Snow •have got embroiled in the kind of footloose scenarios sketched in theI., N. atex

"If you
steal fromeverything, no
one can put afinger on you"

Tonight's entertainment —hippie rectum

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I21

1986
JAMUAllawilling victim desiring
the symptoms hepurports to despise.
Silly boys. Steve Sutherland
1,1M Mar 75

Swans

Depeche Mode:(c/wisefromtop
left)DaveGahan,
Alan Wilder,
Andy Fletcher
and Martin Gore

ALBUMS
Depeche Mode

I:I l*Pli -%11 YlAti

IIY

MUTE

The same old song. That
Depeche Mode are willingto worm their way out of
their lucrative niche as megacuddlies is encouraging, even
if they've been at it so long
they've fashioned acareer fromsweet abrasion. Damn sure theyknow they'll never swap their
teddy bear image for chart
terrorism, but the effort has
become the sole fuel to Martin
Gore's fixations.
It's depressing, though, thatin their own small struggle for
personal and artistic dignity,
Depeche have only managed
to trade in one set of cliches
for another -white for black,bright for bitter, tunes for
twisted chants.
Black Celebration finds
Depeche even more overanxious than they were on the
depressing Some Great Reward
to shock for the sake of it,
pussycats desperate to appear
perverted as an escape from thesuperficiality of teen stardom.
"Dressed In Black" is just "Master
And Servant" revisited, anadolescent masturbatory
fantasy. Similarly, "Fly On The
Windscreen" attempts to evoke
the claustrophobic swamp
inertia of Mute labelmate Nick
Cave's "Wings Off Flies".
These songs tell us, time andagain, that they're desensitised
to love, that the only release
open from spiritual malaise isamomentary tactile passion,alunging, groping lust.

22 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

More saddening still is "New
Dress", an unbridled attack onpress hypocrisy which, in its
humourless juxtaposition ofheadlines ("Famine horror,
millions die") against its refrain("Princess Dus wearing anew
dress") recalls nothing more thanasecondary school poem.
As always, it's difficult todiscern whether Martin Gore's
clumsy lyrical truisms are intent
on promoting his over-apparent
desire to assume asinister
dimension, or whether he's
honestly concerned for his
subject matter. Are the Depecheof "A Question Of Time"revelling in the scenario of underage sexploitation as an exercise
in biting the hand that feeds, orare they genuinely dismayed at
the inevitable moral decay of thisrotting nation?
Then again, it's precisely Gore's
naively logical lyrical equation,
wedded to the establishedDepeche linear musical mode,that occasionally adds up to
somethingsuccessfully
whole,
something thatincorporates
optimism. The
title track's
athrobbing
metallic
purging of thedaily grind,"Stripped" ispleasingly
minimal, if
mannered,and there's awonderful hopein the appalling"New Dress":"You can't change
the world/But you
can change the facts/
And when you change thefacts/You change points of view/
If you change points of view/You
may change avote/And when you
change avote/You may change
the world."
But it's when Depeche arebeing unconsciously throwaway,when they relax their straining
against their reputation, thatthey attain the sublime. "A
Question Of Lust" is gorgeous,an Almondesque torch vocal
mounting asimple electroniccoda worthy of The Human
league. Mostly, though, Black
Celebration is Depeche fucking
with their formula, and the realshock is the insight it provides
into the troubled psyche ofMartin Gore, alad struggling togrow up in public and, for all his
opportunities, finding only
sleaze and filth to feed off.
They'd have it sickening -Gore

K.422

What is the sound of a
Swan in love?
This is unmistakably analbum of love songs, even
if its words are pared tothe bone, its essence
distilled to the mostpotent, and potentiallyexplosive, concentrate.
This is pure love.
Something like Pure War.
It could be the sound ofafactory floor filled withthe relentless clanging
of athousand heavy,
metal cash
registers. The
Swans, after all -by
which I
mean notthe band, but thecrew of flesh-pot
pickers, masochists
and terminal addicts ofdesire that inhabit this LP-are stricken with an ugly
obsession with the moneymaking machine. They crave it
like only the deprived can,although the craving makes
them feel dirty and disgusted.
But money is time -timebought to get away from theslog and back to the grind. The
grind, or the screw, for theSwans is the arena where thebrutality and humiliation of theslog can be fantasised, perverted
or simply fucked into oblivion.
"Flesh," they remind us with aleer, "is easy to get when you
work for aliving."
Whatever the sound is, it
doesn't resemble the sound ofaconventional word ;it's more
likely to sound like an expiring
grunt fed through sometechnological mincing machine.
Words are few and far between
in the Swans' way -phrases arerepeated over
and over with theslightest variation.
Take "Fool", where
Michael Giracroons in adeathly
tone over amordant piano,"I lie to myself/I'lllie down here/ I'll lie
down beside you."
In print the words
look stark to theform of banality,
but just as inminimal music,
where the interest
lies in the imagined(not the actual) melodies, inthe context of asong that's
structured with classicalprecision, imagined meanings
and tangible emotions leakbetween the words. Eventually
the effect is almost unbearablyheart-rending. After the brutalityof Cop, what's so striking about
Greed is the emotional range.
It could be the frustrated howlof the would-be attacker or thesimper of the self-defining
victim. After the "You should be
raped/You should be violated"chorus of anguished cursing on"Time Is Money", "Anything For
You" investigates the Swan as
victim: "Force yourself on me/!know where mymoney comesfrom." To anyone with half abrain
it's obvious that this is not somecheap glorification of sex crimes,
but apainful penetration ofdeeper themes of ownership,delivered in real tones of blackand blue.
Whatever the sound of the
Swan in love, it is surprisinglycompelling. It has beencommented that every
description of the Swans makes
the idea of listening to themappear profoundly unappealing.
In fact, on the evidence of Greedand the forthcoming "Holy
Money" EP, the Swans grow more
and more practiced in the art of
seduction; having stripped theirsound down to pure, raw energy,
they are now in the process ofmoulding anew flesh around theexposed nerves.
Greed is the sound of theSwans in love, and the mostappealing sound, to these ears,
for many months. I
want more.
Don Watson, NMEfrlar2g

The Bangles

CBS

Reactions to The Bangles' recent
live shows in soaraway deepfrozen Britain hinged upon their'60s-ness, revivalism quotientand curiosity value (if any). True,
the gals play pop in its traditional
sense, ablend of California sun
and garage scratch. But despite
their erratic performancesand chosen limitations, they

make pretty
good records.
"ManicMonday" didn't
seem to be
anything special
initially, but after
afew radio plays
it lodges neatly
between theears, thanks
mostly to ahookof impeccable
simplicity andSusanna Hoffs' coy lead vocal.
It's one of four non-originals
here. Another is Alex Chilton'stimeless "September Guns",
whose lilting melody andshimmering chords are renderedfaithfully by The Bangles despite
avaguely off-colour guitar breakin the middle.
Better by far is "If She Knew
What She Wants", which kicks
off the second side. Asong ofmajestic structure, it's madeirresistible by gale-force fourpart harmonies and aproductionjob (by acertain David Kahne)
which will one day grow into afull-scale Wall Of Sound. Watch
this space.
Different Light doesn't containanything quite as overwhelming
as "Dover Beach" from its
predecessor All Over The Place,and occasionally falls into acliched girl-pop rut. "Walking
Down Your Street" followed by"Walk Like An Egyptian" not only
makes you sick of the word
"walk", but also adds up to an
overdose of frugalong teen-beat.
Still, the group have zeroed inon their greatest collective asset-to wit, their armoury of voices.
They all sing well enough to takealead vocal or two, and the
permutations available to thefoursome are tantalising. In"Angels Don't Fall In Love", forinstance, lead guitarist Vicki
Peterson steps out front while
the others blend and swirl behind
her, either dropping in single
counterpoints or providing
massed backup. "Return Post"builds gradually from solo Vicki
to massed guitars and multiple
Bangles harmonising frantically.
It doesn't have to be this way, as
demonstrated by the desolate"Following" where Michael Steelsings solo, but The Bangles'
massed tonsils allow them to getaway with patchy material andmake the best of the stronger
songs. Now, if only they could
generate some of the unhinged
creativity of The Beach Boys or
The Byrds... but I
guess that's
just California dreaming.
AdamSweeting,MIHMar8

Talk Talk: (1-r)
Lee Harris,
MarkHollis
andPaulWebb

SINGLES
Talk Talk
EMI

Talk Talk used to beapoxy synth band with
grandiose ambitions, andthough this, their first record
for ages, is choked in a
stranglehold of production
intricacy, the underlying song
seems better than theirburbling twaddle of old.
Sophisticated but not too
clever-dick, the song doesn't
boast agreat deal of
personality but it's one ofthose that insinuates its way
onto the airwaves and makes
its perpetrators very richindeed. Probably worth
keeping an eye on. 1,
1frlJann
Dire Straits
RHONOGRAM

It's hard to dislike Dire Straits,
because you always end up
admitting that Knopfler is abrilliant songwriter even if thesongs aren't the kind that findtheir way into your own home.
Besides, he's taken the piss outof Paula Yates on live television,
which shows his vision andperspicacity in other ways too.
"Walk Of Life" boasts agoodcountry swing, great hokey
guitar and that intangible airof mellowness that to an
untrained (or uninterested)
ear makes all their songs soundthe same. Attractive, if not oneof their classics. 1,
41.1Jan 71Pli

VIRGIN

Dead man makes record shock.
Good one, too. Lydon, perhaps
the laziest-ever pop star, has
teamed up with avantshocktrooper Bill Laswell(producer and co-writer) togenerate this thumping,mesmerising stretch ofluxurious noise. "Theyput ahot
wire to my head because of thethings I
did and said,"caterwauls the oik,but you canignore him andlisten to thewinningchime of12-string

guitar, theshudder ofsynthetic cellos,
the heaving wallop of
percussion and the Volga
Boatmen chorusing appears,
based on abrief and poignant
modal phrase. So what if it's
taken him three years to write
one song? mt-tien25
Malcolm McLaren
CHARISMA

Most hated single of theweek. Why does
Malcolm
McLaren: (1)Release thesame single
over andover again•(this timeacuee,;
reworked inexecahoots with
Trevor Horn)?
(2) Presume
upon aninternational gullibility '..."''"'
that seems to have ablindspot where he's concerned?:(3) Always get away with it?
This is aremix of every
McLaren single ever, and in
the name of freedom, justiceand liberty I
implore you not tobuy it. Can't wait to see thevideo, though. l'l-i,JonII\\,

Sam Cooke

RCA

First James Brown, thenSinatra, and now Uncle Sam tocomplete the remarkable
resurrection of the originalcrucial three. The reasoning
behind this re-release is fairly
mercenary, having more to dowith the Levi Strauss company
than any genuine attempt tobring Sam Cooke back to themasses, but such dodgy tactics
fade into insignificance as soon
as those first few gorgeouslines come strolling out of the
speakers. No frills, noextended raps, just threeminutes of pure genius
and as fresh now as it
ever was. I
shall
now pull on my3015 and go
for abathto cool off.
t4t'4Nar15
OF ROCK 1986 I23

1986

JA NMI -ell"Definitely
trouble makers""I disagree whollywith the Echo And The
Bunnymen school of
songwriting," says
Robert Forster froma its..

i 1u11&5whose lyrical tunes
are now athriving
critical concern.
"Rolling seas andmassive horizons. It's
absolute garbage."

1

NTHE NEXT few weeks, Beggars Banquet will release The
Go-Betweens' fourth LP, Liberty Belle And The Black Diamond
Express. Like Send Me ALullaby, Before Hollywood and Spring Hill
Fair before it, it will have adouble "I" somewhere in its title.
Remember this, it's important.
"BobbyWomack himself told me that Iam asoulman and that, as far
as modern music's concerned, there's only three soul men left: himself, me andPrince... Prince came to Brisbane, and took the colours, the moves, his whole act,from me. It's true! He's seen my moves! It's true!!!"Robert Forster has adeluxe line in flights of fancy, but they're the wisdom of
Solomon compared to the craziness that surround the band he's in.
The Go-Betweens, employing only such time-crusted tools as the four-piecerock band and the English language, have already ensnared afearsomely:t fanatical following with their increasingly fine live shows, have released two of
1 the '80s great albums and, with Liberty Belle. .., are poised to do the hat-trick.
Yet, until the eleventh-hour-and-then-some intervention of Beggars Banquet,
they had no outlet for their LP outside of their nativeAustralia. They've been
=I forced back to that country to restock their spectacularly empty coffers playing
detested urban booze-barns andhave, when they ought to be as
familiar as any non-chart act
around, to be written about like
LIBERTY BELLE AND THE BLACK DIAMOND EXPRESS
newcomers, complete unknowns.
The triple-strength strangenessOleof their standing- or rather theirlack of it -means that Forster canannounce during sets, without ahint of irony, that The Go-Betweens
are "the greatest band in the world".
It means that some ofNME's clearest
minds can dub them The Most Overrated Group In Existence. And itmeans that Ican state-call it
paradox, call it journalistic licence,call it bloody nonsense- that while »THE GO-BEIINEENS

24 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

NNE

THE GO-BETWEENSTheGo-Setweens;(I-r)Robert Forster,
Lindy Morrison,
Grant McLennan
and Robert Vickersr'

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I25

1986
Jel

there are many "better" bands on this planet, The Go-Betweens areundoubtedly the best.
But just how they've fashioned glints of gold from elements that
habituallyyield sludge, and how they've failed to translate their precious
mettle, critical favour and cult fervour into something tangible (kudosand credibility are fine, but Sainsbury's want coin of the realm) arequestions that need answering, mysteries that demand solution!
And soon, because time is getting short and nothing lasts forever. Filmstar faces wrinkle, empires fall, and inspiration fiercely flares then fades,
so behind the writhing contradictions of The Go-Betweens' present
predicament, behind every note they play and every word they utter, canbe heard afaint but remorseless sound.
It's aticking, acountdown. Maybe to ecstasy, maybe oblivion...

BLEDDYN BUTCHERFIVE VAGUE NOTIONS-some positive, some otherwiseattempting to account for the abiding riddle of The
Go-Betweens' existence: the sight of abrilliant band with thearse out of its trousers.
Their appeal-vague notion Number One-is something to do with themas An Idea. In your dreams, you've imagined aband that's relentlessly
intelligent and literate yet which knows, deep in its marrow, that at thatmysterious place where Rock becomes Magic, no amount of cleverness,of craft, of assiduous brainwork, can compensate
for alack of those mercurial intangibles we,
struggling for grip, tag "feel", "instinct", whatever.
And in your dreams, you've conjured aband bornand grown beyond the temperature-controlled
grooming of the major labels or the rod-rigid houserules of Britain's indie scene, aband with roots thataren't the handiwork of acorporate hairdresser,
and astory that didn't begin in the Filofax fantasies
of some executive. Agroup.
"I've always preferred groups with astory behind
them," muses Forster, "like The Beatles between
1956 and when they broke big. So many groups
today are formed by answering advertisements.
The bands that just pop out ofA&R men's heads just
don't ring true.
"We're aband, agroup, and nowadays that's
terribly rare and important. Look, sometimes we're together in thestreet, the four of us. I
see people on the other pavement staring,
asking themselves, 'God, what is that?' They answer themselves,'That is agroup!' That gives you this sense of.. .power."
He's right, too. The magnetic pull of The Go-Betweens is also
something to do with them physically. In their unlikely
mishmash of beanpole and short-arse, blonde and brunette,
androgen and oestrogen, occurs an alchemy that renders themirresistibly bizarre, bizarrely irresistible. Where the carefully,
callously sculpted likes of Go West, Eighth Wonder, Wham! orFive Star aim for perfection through balance, The Go-Betweens
thrive on their perfect imbalance.
They know it, too. Grant McLennan -who shares with selfappointed last soul musketeer Forster the writing, singing andguitar wrestling bits of The G-B's sonic soup- revels in it: "Weabsolutely look like no other band in the history of the universe.
On some nights we're the ugliest band in the world, on others webelong in Madame Tussauds, total princesses and princes. Don't
we look great? Can you possibly fail to remember us?"
Two vague notions down, another (positive) one to go. The'Tweens' fineness is also something- alot- to do with thebeautiful alloy of noises, tunes, words, melodies and harmonies
they risk, songs that positively shame the withered, lethargic andself-satisfied video playground ditties with which they compete.
The bedrock sponge of this rich cake is formed by simultaneously
reverent and forward-looking assimilations of classic (no-dudsneed-apply) guitar bands; the icing is dolloped generously on by
Forster and McLennan's obvious passion for and mastery of
rock's most abused servant, the English language.
"Words interest me very much," begins McLennan. "I reallywant to communicate the visions that I
have. Not visions in thesense ofVerlaine or Rimbaud- the poets, you understand, rather
than the musician or the muscly film psychopath-but real ideas
and images, nonetheless."
26 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

"And I," continues the sprawling assemblage oflimbs and slightly
scowling intensity that is Robert Forster, "like real speech patterns,
conversation, dialogue. Idisagree wholly with the Echo And The
Bunnymen school of songwriting-y'know, rolling seas and massive
horizons. That whole fantastic world stuff does nothing for me, it's
absolute garbage.""Unlike so many of the new kings and queens in town," Grant sums up,"we believe in quality. That's the only reason that our not being hugeannoys me-so much of the other stuff is shit!"Those, then, are the pluses; what about the reasons for The
Go-Betweens' continued wheel spin on the cloying mud of cu ltdom?
They talk endlessly about the vagaries of public opinion, the inevitable
triumph of "natural justice", and plain ole bad luck (theywere abroad thegood ship Elektra UK before it hit that iceberg recently and, unlike Simply
Red, didn't rate aplace in the lifeboats), but there's aneed for another lineof thought, alittle mirror-gazing.
Y'see, the fact is that this is an aggressively quirky and wilful ensemble,
always setting themselves apparently pointless little goals. rhey've tried,
for instance, to cut each LP in adifferent country, and then there's thebusiness with the double "l's" (continue remembering them, they're still
important). What to their faithful might appear loveable eccentricity ispure Essence Of Peptic Ulcer to Mr Record Company Moneybags.

T

HE FAB FOUR, four pieces ofjigsaw, stable
for the last three years.
Robert Forster is tall, dark and, he's the firstto assure you, handsome. He writes, he plays, hedances, he sings- more like cajoles- and he projects
himself from astage like awig-flipped preacher,aSpeakers' Corner firebrand, amarionette witchdoctor. Forster looks like he was designed by acommittee of rock fanatics asked to produce the"I'llwrite something
bigger than songs":
The Go-Betweens'
Robert Forster,1986

THE GO-BETWEENS_J
iperfect frontman, and talks like he knows they did
THE 0 11-B
abrilliant job.
HERD HILL
Grant McLennan is blond, less obviously intense,and less prone to Mad Talk. Much has already been
made of his isolated childhood in an outback sheep
station, but while asense of distance does inform his
writing, an encyclopaedic knowledge of and voracious
appetite for old mother rock is the mostnoticeably recurrent theme in his conversation.
People paint him from the pot marked "poet",but his chatter is always more likely to be filledwith Dylan (Bob) than Dylan Thomas, with Pete
Shelley rather than Percy B, and The Easybeats
more than the West Coast Beats. The day of ourmeeting, McLennan wore cowboy boots of the
profoundest red imaginable.
Lindy Morrison is The Go-Betweens'drummer. Maybe she was born with it, or maybe
it was acquired doing what's traditionally aman's job in the most macho non-Latin societies
on Earth, but Lindy has anotoriously hard head. Abraver soul than me
would tell you that she drinks, swears and threatens too much (no, notfor awoman, for anyone!). Foryears, she was Robert Forster's lover, 'tillast year the relationship altered. They occupied different floors on thesame house, meeting occasionally on the stairs for what she describes as"a glamorous fuck". And now?... Who knows? Ahazarded guess would
place the new love of her life as the aerosol-applied leather trousers she
creakingly sported at the band's recent au revoir show in London.
And Robert Vickers, like all bass players, erm, plays the bass. Floppily
fringed and stuffed into asuit too small for even his tiny frame, he looks
less aprospective rock star than arefugee from your local fourth form.
During gigs, you findyourself constantly checking the time andwondering if he really shouldn't be in bed by now...

tr

EENS

every couple of years but who're seen to be
doing great work.
0 STEAM"But I'd hate us to be some sort ofVelvet
Underground figures in 15 years' time..."Grant's careful, measured answers are notmatched on this occasion by Robert Forster's.
Considerably liberated by asurfeit of neck-oil, heregales me with atorrent of histrionic boasts,
lies and advertisements.
"People need to be spoken to, to be taken in
hand, to be told what's happening, and I'm theperfect person to do it.
"Why? Because ¡can move well. Primarily,
I'm adancer, I've the body to do it. If I
wasn't in
The Go-Betweens, I'd be in Gladys Knight's Pips.
Icould wear the flares and do the oohs on'Midnight Train To Georgial Most AustralianT-shirt bands are so drab."
My half-hearted attempt to derail arunaway
ego by suggesting that all this RudolphNureyev-meets-Gene-Vincent hoopla is an act succeeds only in
precipitating another avalanche. Without atrace of asmile, he offers:"Acting? Sure, I'm acting. The Australian cinema is crying out for me. I've
got the face for it. With how handsome lam now, I'd make amassive
impact like Monty Clift or Marlon Brando. I'll only do acouple of films,
revolutionise Australian cinema, then get out.
"Mel Gibson? Jack Thompson? Those guys can only do two things telltheir wives to shut up, and order another beer..."
The venomous contempt with which that last sentence is spat out isn't
eased when the apparent indifference of the public to his music- nevermind his abilities asa hoofer or amatinee idol-is put to him.
"Fuck it, I'm not looking to posterity. I'm not going to be like Lou Reed orJohn Cale, 40 and still crying on some A& Rman's shoulder.
"But cults are shit too. I
despise those people who get off on starving
artists, who accept any garbage provided they're one of only five people
saw it. Theywant you to fucking starve and starve...
"Besides, success isn't evenly distributed. It can be stolen, bought,
attained by blackmail or bribery. Occasionally, very
occasional,
ly, it'sachieved by people who actually deserve it."
People like The Go-Betweens?
"I'm confident, Ithinkwe'll do it... except that we're up against people
like Costello and Weller. Those two should be up for the songwriting
equivalent of stealing cars, grand auto theft. They play the last 20 years'
soul records, then extract bits with acrowbar..."To aman on ahorse quite this high it seems churlish to suggest it, butmaybe Rob's justa little mindful of otherAustralian bands, like say The
Triffids (less talented, undoubtedly, but more successful), not to say alittle jealous? The look he shoots me sticks six inches out of my chest. I've
never been stabbed by asneer before.
"A band like The Triffids," he sniffs, "are on the first rung of the ladder togreatness. We're already on the roof. The ladder's long gone.".ct v i"People need
to be spoken
to, to be taken
in hand"I

I
I
REE GREAT LPS...
Forget The Go-Betweens' first born!Though they like it, theRough Trade-issued Send Me ALullabyis agnarled, edgy debut,
the faint promise of something-fine-to-come overwhelmed by dozens ofindividually harmless irritants, like the chopped hairs the idiot barberlets down your back, combining to set your teeth on edge.
It's the second and third broadcasts, Before Hollywood (Rough Tradeagain) and Spring Hill Fair (Sire), that sparkled, and sparkle.... Hollywood,
all haunting evocation and faint mysteries, drove one critic to abandon
the rest of the still-young decade and declare, "This is the most important
LP of the '80s, and will remain so." Yet tome, ...Fairis even better, atour deforce of cinematic images, desperate yet ambivalent moods and tense,
glowering playing. If any record of the past couple of years contained four
better songs than "Bachelor Kisses", "Part Company", "River Of Money"and "Man O' Sand To Girl O' Sea", then I
missed it.
Witnessing the new LP's songs live and co-habiting with an advancecassette, it's clear that LiberlyBelle..., rockier and more positive thanits forebears, will maintain The Go-Betweens' heady standards. As
McLennan puts it, "The doubters will be in the gutter."T

WO SONGWRITERS. "APART from The Beatles, who else? Whocares about John Cale's songs for the Velvets?"
Grant McLennan is quietly proud of the fairly unique twincam-engine, himself and Forster, that drives The Go-Betweens on, wellaware of the quality of the material they've contrived. The band signed
for Rough Trade before fellow language-before-lather types Aztec
Camera and The Smiths, then saw that pair wh izz effortlessly over thecommercial horizon, leaving them stalled on the starting grid. Didn't
that make him bitter, depressed, angry?
Aconsidered, startling response.
"Morrissey got acopy of Before Hollywoodand listened to it ayear before
they put their first LP out. Ilike The Smiths as asingles band and as
people, but Iknow where Morrissey's coming from. It's Before Hollywood,and good luck to him because it's agreat record."
Apart from their spell as resident failures at Rough Trade, does theircontinued incompetence at the art of un it-shifting cause any loss of sleep?
"It does irritate me. I
don't want to be asongwriter's songwriter, afilmmaker's filmmaker or amusician's musician. I'd like to be like The
Band or Talking Heads, bands capable of forays into the hallowed charts

0

NE LAST QUESTION. Maybe there's nothing The Go-Betweens,
Beggars Banquet or anyone can do to disentangle them fromthe annoying web of well-known obscurity in which they seemtrapped. Maybe they're fated. Losers even?
Rob Forster has the last word: "Losers?"
Then several more: "Well, we're definitely troublemakers. I
won't die if
Idon't get the half million in the bank. Ihave talent, everyone in this bandhas talent... Grant will write something bigger than songs. I'll write
something bigger than songs. I'll write aplay or afilm or something.
Vickers may commit suicide at 30-I hope not- and Lindy will dosomething very like suicide before escaping to screen stardom.
"We'll put out these great records and if they're not appreciated, well...",
ahuge, dismissive shrug, "as for 'losers', you'll have to decide that..."
OK, thanks, I
willit may verywell be that somewhere in the complex
composition of the organism that is The Go-Betweens there is acrucial
flaw that will prevent them from converting their musical wonders into
more earthy, tangible rewards. Maybe they are losers, but in aworld thatregards talentless painted flouncers, purveyors of cash-till, tooth-rot
rock as winners, maybe that's no bad thing.
And remember, the best-selling pop work of all time, Wacko Jacko's
Thriller, had two "l's" in its title. Everything is possible. DannyKelly •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I27

3t"You got it,or youain't got it
How do you offend
By saying he works too slowly, itturns out. Avolatile audience with
the Stones guitarist, covering thegreats and the makeweights,
Springsteen, Dylan and Live Aid,even Duran Duran. "It's calledplaying music, you little turd."

28 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

"We'reinauniquepositiontoseeif wecanmakethisthing
growup":Keith
Richardsint986

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I29

11986

JAN ÀRI'lle nW

NME

HAT BECOMESA legend most? So exactly
how I'd imagined it was the scene that I
wouldn't have dared make it up. Before weenter, abottleneck guitar lick crows homily
from behind the gilt-numbered door of his
suite in London's Savoy Hotel.
"I used to come to this place to get thrown out, to get apicture in thepaper, right? Now they fucking welcome me with open arms..."The TV flickers soundlessly, the phone explodes into life every 10
minutes and the Marlboro stubs pile high. Agrinning bellboy brings
more on asilver tray.
What becomes alegend most?
Jack Daniel's Tennessee sippin' whiskey mixed with Coca-Cola is his
tipple: one bottle is already dead when Iarrive, and by the time Ileave
two-and-a-half hours later, so is another. He drinks me under the carpet,
no problem. Brown eyes burn out of whites the colour of pickled onions,and though his speech be as slurred as apirate's, he moves as friskily as
aboy scout, never mind arocker of 42. Truly, heis the biholic man.
What becomes alegend most?
Grey suede pixie boots; clean tight jeans; plumsilk shirt; hairlike fag ash, shaped at the back,like athicket at the front; that ring. His wife of
two years, ex-model Patti Hansen, is all mumsy
and flushed with baby Theodora Dupree
Richards, named after not only Keith's maternal
grandfather, adance-band musician, but also
asixth-century Byzantine empress who rose topower from humble origins as acircus acrobat
and courtesan. One of Keith's proudest
possessions is acoin of Alexander The Great;
not alot of people know that. Meanwhile, Patti
is expecting their second.
What becomes alegend most?
HP Sauce, bottles of it, ranked
neatly along his mantlepiece.
"You can't get it in New York,sol bring some with meal! thetime. Idon't actually knowwhy
Ilike it; it's harder to kick thanheroin, heugh heugh!"
What becomes alegend
most...
"I have nothing to hide. I
found that's the best way to getalong with everybody."
As everyone knows, theRolling Stones are far morefamous for their leisure pursuits
than their work. Backstage
blowjobs and royal snortergate
scandals can routinely enliven
atabloid's slow news day in the'80s, as did Billy Wyman being
had up before the beak forpissing against agarage wall in
1965, or the drugs-bust decadeof 1967 to 1977...
"Every time I
did somethingbad, Igot found out and busted.
And Iregret being busted, but inthe long run it had to happen,"croaks the erstwhile Prince Of
Darkness, aman fiercely
protective of his band's
reputation, aman whose seenit-done-it-been-there duende
Married on December
18.1983.Keithandseems forever battling with a
Patti Hansen stroll
kind of laconic approachability
down Beauchamp
Place in London's
for supremacy of his mood.
Knightsbridge,1986"When! wasn't high I
was incourt, heugh heugh! You try saying 25 times, 'Guilty, Your Honour,' inMarlborough Street and keep astraight face.Andwalking out for 260
quid. It was agame, nothing to do with justice or law. It was like, 'We'regoing to get you, old son, we're going to fucking do you!' And they try andit takes place in public and, er... if they'd played their cards right they
could have put me in foryears. But they tried to pop me for something
Ihadn't done, and that's where they always fucked up.
"Yet even after all these years Istill have asoft spot for the English
bobby—the idea of it, knowwhat Imean? It's brilliant and it fucking
works, and now they're screwing it up. You might as well strap guns on
all of them now.
"In New York if Icome out of astudio and there's apolice car outside,
they give me alift home— 'Hi Keith, man, howyou doin'?' If! see apolice
car outside in this city, there's afucking dog inside it. The poor little pigs in
the car have hardly shaved and they're trying to fucking razzie me?!?"So you're still hassled?
"No, they ask for autographs...
"I never thought I
was wasted, but Iprobablywas. Idon't think thatnecessarily has abig effect on what you do. It just depends; it's such anindividual thing. Heroin is bad for you. Idon't
recommend it for anybody. It's amug's game,just because of the things you have to go throughto get it. But when you're off it, it's afucking
comedy, really. Once you've been through it
and out the other end, then you can afford tolaugh at it, right? It's only when you don't makeit out the other end that, y'know, you can't laughat anything.
"I learnt Ican't afford it. If Iwant to do whatI
want to do, then I've got to clean up my act.
I
don't try and make aliving out of being an
ex-junkie, Idon't fucking tell anybody elsewhat to do.
"I was probably wrong alot of the time; it did
interfere with my job, no
doubt. In the long run it reallyaffected it badly, because
instead of living like apopstar
and being elevated to thisweird, unreal status, Iwas
actually on the street trying toscore, you know, getting shotat in NewYork.
"If you were going to buy
dope in NewYork in the '70s
and you wanted to get out thefront door to carry your dopeaway so you could get homeand get high, you had to havesome weight behind you to get
out of the door. Cos they'll
stick you up downstairs andtake all your dope away
unless you come down withashooter in your hand saying,'Fuck off, motherfucker, I'm
leavin', alright?!' OK, so it was
like Higlz Noon, but fuck it, so
what? That was the old days."
Do you still carry agun in
New York?
"Not in NewYork, no.
Outside the state, yes, when
I'm on the road. Habit."Ever fired ashot in anger?
"Don't ask personalquestions."
His eyes freeze. Bloodpounds in my head. Time tochange the subject...
"Bob dropped by on Ronnie
one night and I
was there. It
was aThursday night, and

RICHARD YOLNI: /REX FEATURES"I regret being
busted, but
in the longrun it had tohappen"30 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

t"Youcan'tplayto90,000
peoplewiththreeacoustic
guitarsandnomicrophones".
KeithandRonnieWoodjoinBob
DylanattheUSLiveAidconcert- inPhiladelphia,July13,1985"I nicked alot
off Ry. That's
where you get'Honky Tonk
Women' from"we could ve walked off, but fuckin"ell, it was
fun, Ienjoyed it. It was agood laugh. And hats
off to Bob."
CC

T1
-

LESS YOUR HEART, heugh heugh!"I'd just blushingly revealed, like thefan lam, that the Stones' 1972 LP
Exile On Alain Street is amongst my favourite
records. Despite his chuckle- like, in Mick
Brown's priceless phrase, "a large articulated
lorry wheezing in afrozen parking lot" -theleathery old hound seems quite genuinely
touched by my appreciation.
"I don't make ahabit of listening to our oldrecords, and! don't study it with any conscious
effort to construct any continuity. We wing it all the way. I
go into thestudio with no songs at all, and as long as Charlie and Bill and Ronniethi
nk Iknow what I'm doing, I'll just hammer out some riff, and if t
hedrums pick up and the bass drops in, then maybe we've got something.
The Stones rely on that total feel; the rest of it is just salad dressing.
"I'm asongwriter, right? Tin Pan Alley- it's the roughest place in town.
But I'm not atunesmith. If you said to me, 'Write aJames Bond theme',
forget it, Ican't do that. I'm not aPaul McCartney, Ican't hammer out
something to order."How about (thinking of his wonderfully haunting score to Paris, Texas)
Ry Cooder?
'To me, it's very academic, abit cold-blooded.
If you're makin' acountry film, you get Ry in,
y'know. Ry can toss that stuff off in an afternoon,
he isn't stretching anything as far as melody orsongs or writing actual music. All he's relying uponis his sound and his technique, which is what he'll
always fall back on, y'know.
"I nicked alot off him. I
took him for all he wasworth. That's where you get 'Honky Tonk Women'
from, know what Imean? His tuning, the fucking
lot. Iripped him off."
When you played five-string guitars? »HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I
31

BETTMAN /GETTY

Saturday night was the gig, right? I
was just
doing the Stones album, and Ethiopia wasamillion miles away..."Bob is Dylan, Ronnie is Wood, and the gig
was Live Aid, JFK Stadium, Philadelphia,
July 13, 1985.
"Bob comes down and says, 'Hey maaaan(authentic-sounding weasel drawl), are you
going to be down Philly on Saturday? Or are you
going to watch it on TV?'
"And Isaid, 'Neither, I'm going to be in thestudio working.' And then he disappears with
Ronnie for about 20 minutes, and then he comesback downstairs again- 'Heeeey, they want me
to playwith the Tom Petty band and Idon't know
those guys. Would you do it?'"And so, by the time we've had acouple of great rehearsals, Bob's
stopping the car down on the freeway from NewYork to Philadelphia andsays, 'Let's do 'It Ain't Me Babe!' Heugh heugh! I
says, 'Don't let this get too
far! Ican remember the chords to "Blowin' In The Wind" and "Hollis
Brown -,and Woody, who's like an avid Dylan fan, he doesn't know the
early stuff, and there's me going, 'Naaah, he didn't play it like that, heplayed it like this."Cos Istudied all that stuff. Imean, Icame out of artschool guitar playing-Woody Guthrie, duh duh duh-so Bob Dylan was
anatural follow-up..."
The three of you didn't exactly cover yourselves with glory that night...
"If you could have heard it, it would have been great.
But following 24 hours of heavily amplified satellite
rock'n'roll, we were just waiting for the guy to bring
the blindfold and the last cigarette, heugh heugh!
Screw it, man, it was three acoustic guitars and no
microphones-you can't play to 90,000 people withthree acoustic guitars and no microphones,
especially when they've been blasted the whole daywith heavy sounds. It was, 'Here we go, plonk, here's
an interlude- better than someone selling ice cream,right?' It was only to feed people, you were not trying
to prove anything here. It was very hard, but, y'know,

1986

JAHUM -enli"Yeah, banjo tuning. Istill do. But he didn't invent it either, noway. It's
called the Sears Roebuck tuning, where you'd send away to Chicago orsome weird box number in Baton Rouge and, allowing six to eight weeks
for delivery, you'd get what you sent away for. After the First World War,
Sears Roebuck started to flog guitars instead of banjos real cheap to getthem going on the market, and all the spades used to send away for theirguitar and when they'd get it there's one extra string. And they'd take it off
and tune it like abanjo and play the same thing again with alouder box.
And so it evolved."
Heard Robert Cray?
"Yeah, he's good, but for me it's Slim Harpo, Jimmy Reed..."But those guys are dead.
"That's what recordings are for, so you live forever. But in this businessit's 97 percent crap, right? The gems are very few and far between, andnobody can come up with it all the time. If you can keep on hanging in, if
you've got enough goodwill goingwith the customers... It's like acorner
grocery store, 30 years in the same location, we're still churning it out;
and if you like it, it's here and you know where to get it. It's avery simple

thing. All you've got to do is be honest. Honest to the people you're puttingout to and honest to yourself."
What about quality control? Your last LP, Undercover, was dull, it didn't
happen at all.
"No, it didn't. It was pissed around as if it was atoy. Every timesomebodywanted something to do and they wanted to get away from theold lady, they went to the studio and pissed around with the tapes.
"It was the best we could do at time. It's avery hard record to ask mequestions about. Apart from playing on it, I
had very little to do with it 'cosI
wasn't allowed in the country where it was being mixed, but I
had to livewith it. It wasn't abrilliant album, whicheverwayyou look at it. The thingis, when you're at that point of finishing it off, you're in the least position
to judge because you've been sitting on the fucking thing for about ayear
and you're totally blown away.
"There are lots of dips, and every now and again there's agreat highpoint. Like aTattoo You 119811, taken out of the can, some of it over 10 years
old. That's what you get with experience- afew things left in the fucking
attic you can draw on occasionally. Some of it was outtakes from Goat's
Head Soup, the winter of '71 in Jamaica. You
just try and make the best of what's
available, it doesn't matterwhere itcomes from. If! hadn't told you what
date things were, nobodywould— ALBUMS
know anyway, right? It doesn't
make any difference, it doesn't
worry Mozart."
The Stones make records
dead slowly...
somewhere? Belatedly, the"The Stones move slowly, their
Stones reveal that they put in somewonders to perform -but what d'you
hours with their Little Feat and Meters
expect? D'you want amiracle, every fucking
records, presumably when they got sick ofday? May be asemi-miracle, right? We don't work
the Vandellas and Sam Cooke.
dead slow, we work the way we work. It's none ofIt's only the lyrics that let them down,
your fucking business whether it's slow or fast.
very badly on acouple of occasions. "Fight",
Get the fuck out! What d'you mean, 'dead slow'?
one of the album's less interesting rockers,
Did anybody moan at Beethoven how long it
is all about hitting people and blowing up
took him to write the '1812 Overture'?"buildings, self-consciously ignorant.
If, at that point, I'd pedantically remarked to"Had It With You", another of the album's
Keith that it was, in fact, Tchaikovskywho wrote
less interesting rockers, begins "I love
the '1812 Overture', Ithink he'd have killed me
you, dirty fucker" and ends "You're aon the spot.
mean mis-treater, adirty, dirty rat scum.""Maybe the more time you put into it, thePerhaps aspot of misogyny-by-numbers
better it is, al right? C'mon. If! want to work fast,has become part of the Stones' formula. It's
I'll work fast, I'll work for Ford's in Dagenham,
bad enough doing it whenright? Work to the crack of the fuckingwhip.
you're ayoung wastrel,That's why I'm amusician, Ican't work like that.
but it's sickening fromIf you don't like it, that's my tough shit. You don't
men over 40.
have to buy it. You'll get it for free anyway, what
Deliberate ploy or not,have you got to worry about?
there's evidence of pacing"I was making records before you wereand planning here. The
fucking born! It makes me feel stupid and you,disc moves through its
right? What kind of organisat ion is it where you
rockers, shakes alimb withcan just whip things out?The Rolling Stones"Harlem Shuffle", does afast and quick and brilliant! But it doesn't work
Clash-type reggae number in "Too Rude",
like that, son."

Abona fide rock'n'roll album
MM MAR 29

REVIEW

The Roliing Stones
ROLLING STONES RECORDS

After all these years, the Stones havesuddenly learned how to play like
professionals. Sure, Charlie drops abeatoccasionally and there's the odd sloppy
guitar chord, but Dirty Work is one of theirmost consistent sets of songs ever and, withthe possible exception of Tattoo You, has
the fullest, chunkiest sound.
All that stuff about the imminent demiseof Keith Richards looks rather quaint inretrospect. The man is presumably madeof indestructible bionic materials.
Whatever, the story goes that Dirty Work
was mostly his baby, and everything points
to aman with his headscrewed on and his grip
unimpaired. "Your /ove isasweet addiction, Ican't
clean you out of my veins,"
Jagger sings in the rugged
opener "One Hit (To The
Body)". "It's alife-long
addiction that has
damaged my brain." The

Pianos r
ing loudand you can feelthe flesh on metal
guitar strings

subtext here probably goes something like:"Heroin screws other people up but notus." All around, gospelly girls moan andRichards' guitar pumps out bulldozer
chords. The irony is exceedingly pointed.
Several of these performances are
bewilderingly quick-witted for such abunchof old gits. "Winning Ugly" slipstreams
along between terse bursts of lead guitar
and blowsy vocal harmonies, with Jagger
really singing for achange (throughout, hesteers well clear of stupid West Indianvoices and the ludicrous ham accents heprefers when he's bored or allowed to belazy). It's kind of AOR with teeth.
Best of the bunch is the riveting "Back To
Zero", asteamy swamp-funk operation withrhythm guitars twitching like garrotting
wire. Is that Bobby Womack in there
32 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

and winds down finally with Keith's
elegant ballad "Sleep Tonight".
Co-producer Steve Lillywhite may
well have taken ahand here. He's
also managed to give the Stones
aclear, powerful sound where
pianos ring loud and clear and you
can feel the flesh on metal guitar
strings. Neat tribute to Ian
Stewart right at the end, too.
Dirty Work is abona fiderock'n'roll album, adifficult thing
to pull off in1986.1t won't appeal
to the soul-boys and the hiphoppers, of course, and for that
we should give thanks. It's one of
the Stones' albums you can keep.
AdamSweetingI'm not trying to get up your nose.
"You 'ave."
Sorry.
"Don't be sorry. The last thingyou should be issorry. You should be glad you got up my nose;
not many do. But what I'm saying is, so we work
slow, what's that got to do with it? If Iwant to take40 years to make afucking record, I'll take it, if
that's what it takes to make agood record in myhumble opinion then that's what it'll take. You
can't just say, 'Let's bung it onto two or four
tracks and let's go, baby!"
Why not?
"I should go to the garage again, right?"
Would that be such abad idea?
"And then you'll turn around and say, 'Oh,
nostalgia!' You can't deny that's the state of thefucking art. It's amatter of realities. It's got
nothing to do with the ideal rock'n'roll heaven
where guys just pop in. We do that all the time:
I've got cassettes full of it. Ican make better
records on that machine (pointing at my
Walkman) than most people do in the fucking
top joint in town."
Then why not put them out?
"Because, darl in', the record company would
toss it back at me."What about that Springsteen record, Nebraska?
"Well, you go to Nebraska and see howyou
like it. I
like Bruce; he's anice, good, fucking
journeyman, y'know. He ain't no brilliant artist.
I've seen the fucking tops work, tops like Joe Tex,
Solomon Burke, James Brown, fucking Otis
Redding, Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions,
Chuck Willis, fucking Sam Cooke, Bobby
Womack- I've seen the tops work, right?
Fucking Count Basie, knowwhat Imean? So
The Rolling Stones
don't give me fucking Bruce Springsteen!
in London inig86:"He's agood boy and he's holding the fort until(I-r)Bill Wyman,
Charlie Watts,
something good comes along. If there wasKeith Richards,
anything better around, he'd still be working the
Mick Jagger andRonnie Woodbars of New Jersey. C'mon, there's better. Ifyou
look, there's better. And he'd be the first to say so.
I'd rather have Sam Cooke than the Rolling
Stones, knowwhat Imean? But in the absence ofanything better, Bruce is filling agood gap.
What else you got?"
Ireckon that kind of blows Keith's chances ofbeing invited to play on Jacko's next LP. But backto the new Stones album, titled Too Rude...
"This one took 10 months.After two years off
the road, not fucking bad. We take as long as wewant; we have that luxury, we've worked for that
luxury.And the reason the rest of the bands cando that nowadays is because we'veworked forthat luxury. We said, 'Fuck, we're not going tohave some A&R man from Decca, we're gonnalease out tracks so we have artistic control.'That's whyyou got good albums; that's whyyou got aload of slimy little kids
now fucking around. So don't fucking give the old fucking cobblers to me.
"With this album especially, we try and take it 'You got it' or 'You ain't
got it'. Boom. Two takes. Everybody else thinks it's
highly amusing. You get Duran Duran come down for
aday, walk into our fucking sessions and say, 'What
are you doing in that room together?' It's calledplaying music, man. That's the onlyway we record,
you snotty little turd.
"I like to use whatever's available. There's no point intrying to drag things back; what one has to do is deal
with what's available and try and balance it out. Verydifficult. Believe me, if it was easy I'd have done it.
"This is aband: Irecord afucking band.And Itry andmake the best Rolling Stones record I
can. And you canlump it or leave it, Idon't give ashit. I
try and turnout agood fucking deal for everybody-for theband, for myself, everybodywalks away happy,
including the customers. Because there's nopoint in playing music to an empty room, right?
"We're in aunique position to see ifwe canmake this thing grow up. No one's taken it
beyond this stage. We know guys in other related
fields, like Muddy Waters, and there's still Chuck
and Bo, and the Stones have got apossibility of,maybe, if theywant to, making this thing
mature as opposed to get wasted. That would beafeather in the cap. You don't have to, y'know,
prance around and run five miles round a
stadium ¡na poofy football suit to prove anything. There's no point
pretending to be Peter Pan."
Isn't that what Mick does?
"Maybe Mick'll grow up! That's my idea, and I'msaying that if they want to, they could. I'm not saying
theywould be successful at it; it is newground, aninteresting area rather than just like going throughthe fucking motions.
"The reason we're still together is thatwe're still here
-give or take one or two-and still playing, and still, I
think, have alot to offer. The only reason nobody's got
to this point in rock'n'roll is that the audience havenever got there. Imean, you're only as old as youraudience, and we'll all go to heaven together, but
knowwhat Imean? Three steps..." MatSnow •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I33

MICHAEL PUTLAND IGETTY"I try andmake the best
Stones record
Ican. Lump it
or leave it"Abbey Road Studios \

t

-401

The manufacture of am

V ECEMBER 13, 1985 —N1
4/

MM JAN 4N

AUGHTY, NAUGHTY. MUCH ofwhat went on tonight was aquestionof who was using who. It's one thing
for SSS to screw the system, entertaining us
mightily along the way -our guerrillaaccountants, as it were. It's quite anotherwhen we're roped in and our curiosity raped
to feed the fantasy legend, dumb extras intheir continuing saga of success.
I'm all too prepared for SSS to bleed thebusiness dry, and I'm happy to participate in
the ensuing wake, but tonight the lights
stayed on for the TV cameras, the cleaners.,
cleared up around us, the SSS shock-horror,
video show mysteriously stayed under wraps
7 (too expensive to stage apparently) and,.
:-.-.
ironically, the atmosphere they hoped to hype34

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

suffered accordingly. We really felt we werebeing used, our enthusiasm abused in thename of history in the mock-making.
Not that we consider SSS the pinnacle ofaltruism -they're not Robin Hoods oranything remotely like that -but when theaudience feels duped, then the complicatedclause between subversion and exploitation is
being mismanaged. So, what did we get out of
tonight? We were herded into ahallowed
studio never before used as avenue andexpected to feel thankful because, in 12
months' time, we'll be able to say in that
one-upman way: "Well, I
never saw the Sex
Pistols, but I
saw Sigue Sigue Sputnik."
We got involved in the manufacture ofamyth.

More than that it's still hard to say. We
wobbled about to that glorious TRex riff,
cranked out with cruel cool by the beautifully
cartoon Neal X, possibly pop's most perfectcreation -Billy Idol, Elvis, Sid 'n' Nancy all
rock'n'rolled into one. We saw Martin Degvillemince through his camp aggression, growlinglike apussycat at the punters who thought
they'd (re) discovered punk rock and hurledplastic glasses at the edifice of false hair piled
high into asynthetic peroxide porcupine.
We were tickled pink by Tony James' fencing
mask and laughed even louder when heremoved it to reveal agrin as big as his bankaccount. Oh, and we got confusion... The thugs
down the front obviously took all this businessseriously, chose to ignore the cheesy grins andBilly Bragg:kicking
things off with"trusted protest
favourites"

There isan answer
MM
Red Wedge
give asend-off to theGreater London Council.

Getting the Abbey
habit:(I-r)Sigue
Sigue Sputnik's
Neal X,TonyJ am es
and Ray Mayhew,
December 1985

got all worked up. Good for them. Meanwhile,the celebs at the back who'd come to carp, leftgrooving. Severin, for one, thought they werefa b; "The new Mud. I
can see them at Batley
Working Men's Club in six years' time."I
just saw everything pop I'd ever nightmared
about paraded around in agorgeous pantoparody. Needless to say, "Shoot It Up" will beabig smasheroonie with its Glitter/Damned
terrace chorus, asemblance of atune and line
about giving head -bound to be banned by
the Beeb. Perfect.
Needless also to say that their "Twist And
Shout" (just like Tony James' "Better Dead
Than Red" T-shirt, modelled for the benefit of
the TV execs who were investigating his
credentials to go on the box anti-Red Wedge)
was apiece of precise opportunism, at once
exorcising, celebrating and ridiculing theghosts of pop past in one giggling gang-bangof noise.
Naughty. Naughty. But Neat. Neat. Neat.
Steve Sutherland

to cries of "It'sbehind you!" andkept the Red Flag
flying bright until
the slink and swagger
of Dr Robert and his Blow
Monkeys stifled the breeze.
Tonight, you had to have Bragg's patter,
Weller or Livingstone's position, orSomerville and Julie Roberts' voice to raise
the pulse rate past room temperature.
Jimmy's amazing falsetto was sharp
enough to rattle the fillings at the back of
the mouth, as songs like the Brechtian"Breadline Britain" hung stark in thewasteland. The trulywonderful "You Are
My World" paved the way for duets with
Sarah-Jane (with roles reversed- of course),
and the minority monopolywas complete
when Junior returned with the odd Animal
Nightlifer, Martin from the Maddy Boys andAladdin Livingstone on tambourine (he canput it in his CV when the GLC is RIP).
An acoustic Tom Robinson -the original
do-gooder doing badly-proved he wasstill very glad to be grey, while Carl from
Madness was just glad to be there. He
tinkled the ivories, told the odd joke,modelled an umbrella, and delighted thecrowd with his versionof vaudeville, whichshowed you can even be
normal and be aWedgee.
From Working Week's"Sweet Nothing", theentire ensemble
returned for something
resembling "Many Rivers
To Cross" and an allinspiring "Move On Up".
Those who came towatch their favourite pop star might well

If Weller failed tostir up astorm in a
teacup, the arrivalof Junior put
arsenic in the pot

have come away disappointed. Those whocame to draw succour from the evening
and rekindle their belief that there is ananswer to the vile Mrs Tfound solace andstrength in numbers. The appeal buckets
rattled, the politicians prattled as an
evening marred by rambling fledglings,
yet marked by sudden bursts of great
achievement, came to apremature end.
Afitting way to bid farewell. Red Ted MicoHISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I35

JIM STE1NFELD/GETTYI

WANNA BEE anarcheeee... only we're 10
years on from snot and nihilism. Now it'ssnot and socialism, I
wanna bee aRed
Wedgeee. This ain't rock'n'roll but lock,
stock and barrel necessity.
All joined to wave farewell to the GLC Wedgies on stage, well-wishers in stalls,
and politicians (including Bernie Grant)
waiting in the wings. The Wedgies played
almost in reverse order of importance(that's equity-of course), with Billy Bard
opening the festivities with "It Says Here","Between The Wars" and other trusted
protest favourites, before yielding to the rap
attack of Lorna Gee and the Stax and soulbric-a-brac of Weller and The Style Council.
Here they were, the club decried as Saatchi&Saatchi socialism. They are. They should
be. Fight slogans with better slogans. Yet
the Wedgies' pace and lineup often lacked
commercial timing. IfWeller narrowly
failed to stir up astorm in ateacup, thearrival of Junior put arsenic in the pot.
Junior's lame funk wrapped in lamé
extracts all the right ingredients, but theresults were just too emasculated for the
hostile surrounds of the Odeon. His slot
moved from killing time to painfully
murdering it and leaving the corpse for the
buzzards, and only Mel
Gaynor (a SimpleMinded drummer) andJulie Roberts hauled thelimbs of "Come On OverTo My Place" into life. The
song's gleeful response
epitomised the Wedgies'
dilemma. To make Red
Wedge exciting andattractive, they must
always surprise -always
add new and unexpected faces to the wellworn parade of stalwart profiles.
The one surprise duo to hit the boards
received astanding ovation without having
to sing asingle note: Ken Livingstone and
Ted Knight, the errant martyrs ofThatcher's comedy of errors. The effect of
Ken's impassioned oration resembled aschool panto. Ken says Mrs T- "Hiss." The
Law Lords -"Boo." The GLC -"Hooray."
Aladdin and the Widow Twanky strode off

191
a
1

JANUÀRI -e tH

1 can'treally !smut
thissmugness I've
invented for myself'
John Lydon in 1986

36 IHISTORY OF ROCK 19.86
..•

ego'
.010.•

JOHN LYDON"I'm badnews,
boys andiris"
returnswith an great new
single and an album
made with "damned
fine people". Stillhe can't escape his
past, and McLaren,
Sid &Nancy, even Led
Zeppelin are in hiseyeline. "Someone,"he says, "will begetting ablack eye."

album

MELODY MAKI.

"I'M HERE FOR purelycommercial gain, andthat's the way it is," John
Lydon explained by way
of introduction. "Not that
Ineed the money, but every
little extra bit counts."
He doesn't like interviews much, generally
regarding the press as apack of cretinous
leeches, asking stupid questions andsquabbling over drops of Lydon's anaemic
blood. Last time he came out of hiding, flittingfrom his warm LosAngeles lair to the gnawing
London winter in late '83, he gave apress
conference at which, judging by publishedreports thereof, he gave dull answers toboring questions.
In his memory banks, he's logged it as a
victory, inevitably. I
wasn't there, so don't
ask me. "It was fun," he insists, in avoice
peppered with elongated vowels andpreposterous over-emphatic consonants.
He hasn't changed much. He's 30 (28 if you
prefer the Standard's version, but I
can't
imagine Lydon telling them the truth
about anything), his complexion is stilltéthat familiar pasty white, and his eyesoften bore out at you malevolently.
With his carrotty hair twisted like pipecleaners, his body slight and cramped,
he resembles an albino puppet, or some »HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I37

FIN COSTELLO fREX FEATURES

sort of Dickensian pickpocket. He is, however, relaxed and easily amused
nowadays. Rather entertaining company, in fact, when he decides to talk.
"It was great to see all those wankers out there," he continues, recalling
his infamous press conference, "who didn't dare to be sarkywith me 'cos
the rest would then have pinned them to the groundi let them get on
with their own battle and just wafted across the top of it. I
liked that. I
thought Isuccessfully made them look like the wankers they are. That's
my opinion... and you're fuming."
Actually, I'm just glad he's talked for 45 seconds without me having to
chivvy him on with increasinglylame questions. It's hard work
interrogating aman whose only object is not to tell you anything.
Certain topics goad him into life, luckily. His recent legal victory against
the slippery Malcolm McLaren clearly fills him with unbridled jubilation,for instance. It appears the case has been brewing for years. Lydon only
went to court, as he tells it, when he was sure he could win.
"The case has been festering for aeons, hasn't it? It's outrageous that it
took so long. Anybody got alight? But it's nice to win." He lit acigarette andemitted aknowing chuckle.
No love lost between you and the great man, then?
"There's nothing great about him," snarled Lydon. "Except he grated mynerves, and that's about it."He seems to be doing alright for himself, though.
"Yeah, well he managed to outswindle himself, didn't he? He lost thatcase with classic style."
Revenge is sweet?
"I didn't fight this case for revenge." Course not.
"I fought it because what was rightfully mine wasdenied to me for so long, and so justice won out! But
it cost afortune in costs. It's a10-year case. It's
ludicrous. He wouldn't settle. He thought Ihad nocase—a sorry mistake. My barrister wanted me in thewitness box and that's what we were rushing forward
to, and that's when Malcolm backed down."

His voice dropped to aslow, deliberate smirk. "I'd be rather good there."He pondered for amoment, savouring the idea of aflattened McLaren(also resident of LA these days, ironically. Hope they don't go to the same
supermarket.) "He looked awally in court in his knickerbockers.
Someone should have photographed that..
Lydon has subjected himself to aseries of bouts with the press, lest weforget, because his fabulous single "Rise" is getting almost as much
airplay asAOR stalwarts like Sting and Dire Straits. Lydon is amazed anddelighted, having spent so long banned from the airwaves because of his
Sex Pistols days. Certainty, "Rise" is acut or 50 above the horrible "This Is
Not ALove Song", PiL's last single as far as anyone can remember.
The new song is credited to Lydon and Bill Laswell, who also produced.
PiL, however, is just Lydon. He merely chooses additional people withwhom to work in the studio.
"PiL is technically me, officially me," explained the act, "and anybody I
workwith on my songs. They are my songs. He's aproducer and you haveto put their name on the thing. Ididn't want no names at all, I
wanted it tobe completely blank because it really is one of those records where themusic's just so damned good. Can't be disputed. Except by Blitz" (who'drun asneaky preview of the forthcoming PiL album). "H ighly derogatory.
I Someone will be getting ablack eye, Ican assure you. It's the same oldviciousness really, uncalled for. Really stupid and juvenile."
One choked back aguffaw by swallowing alarge handkerchief. This fromthe notorious oik Rotten who frightened old ladies and was sick in airports!
Everything's changed. The album features drummer Ginger Baker,
formerly of Cream and the sort of chap the Pistols
wanted to kill off, as well as Tony Williams, anotherdrummer and aman of impeccable muso pedigree.
On guitar is acertain SteveVai, described by Laswellin The Wire as aman "maybe taking electric guitar
into awhole other area, and maybe past what people
even expect the electric guitar to be able to do".
"Damned fine people," says Lydon, perhaps oro

Lydon with his wife
Nora Fo rster, aGerman publishingheiressand motherof The Slits' An Up

JOHN LYDON

perhaps not sarcastically. "It can be quite frightening working withprofessionals. Iliked it. There's afewAfricans floating around too andachap called Shankar on violin and Sakamoto on keyboards. Not abad
team. That's like winning 10-nil before you begin."Times change. Led Zep are back! Just check the Beastie Boys.
"Naaaaah," said Lydon in apathetic imitation of his famous sneer.
"Nowhere near as good. Or as bad. There wereelements to Led Zeppelin I've always liked. I've
always liked their drum sound." Didn't we all?
"Theywere always good on dynamics, songs
like 'Kashmir'."
Don't be ridiculous. Let's move on topersonal weaknesses.
"I'm not going to tell you about them."
Yes you are.
"Vanity. Let's face it, lam one of the world's
vainest human beings, and Ilove it."Laziness too, perhaps?
"Naaah, everybody says that and it couldn't
possibly be true. I
work bloodyhard when I
work. And work verywell too. There it goesagain, the vanity.
"Not as often as most people, because Idon't feel the need to rush intothings. I
don't like to do anything unless I'm completely sure about it. This
album took about two years to write, Ispent alot of time on it, and getting
the people together that Ithought would do the best job and the cheapest.
Moneywas abit of aproblem."
Basically, Lydon would prefer to do nothing almost all the time. He
loathes the music business, hates NewYork ("one big stinking trafficjam"), despises video ("the Polaroids of the film industry") and thinks
most known pop stars are worthless dickheads. Consequently, he finds
property speculation intriguing.
"I find real estate quite an interesting hobby. Ilike buying and sellingfor outrageously extravagant prices. It's agood wayof earning money by doing nothing at all. My oldhouse in London, I
got it for £14,000. It's nowworth£120,000. Outrageous. Amazing. It looks like four
dirty grey walls to me, but I
won't say no to the loot.
No qualms at all about selling it at that price. Whatabargain!"
Meanwhile, what of his former PiL cohorts, Keith
Levene and Jeanette?
"I've no idea."
Don't care?
"No, not at all. They're not doing anything,obviously."
Did you feel you were just carrying them?
"I've had alot of dead weight around me over theyears, yeah. Driftwood. Funnythat, yes... now I
come to think of it, most of the people I've worked
with have done nothing since. I've destroyed theirlives." He lapsed into along wheezing chuckle. "I'mbad news, boys and girls."
Presumably nobody asked you to do Live Aid?
Lydon looked appalled. "No, and quite rightly soand all 'cos the answer would be no, most definitely.
What ano-hope project that is."Why?
"Oh come on. There's acivil war going on there.
Don't you think it's aslightly condescending
attitude to completely ignore that major fact? 'Oh,
let's feed the millions.' They're at bloodywarwith
one another, for God's sake. They're more thanlikely to shoot ya. You can't interfere with things like
that, it's very dangerous.
"Because it's politically motivated, it has to be.
Someone's behind it, it's not Geldof. He's justa
figurehead. And he's going to have to account for
an awful lot of lost money, and we all know it's goingto happen— we've all seen Bangla-fucking-desh,haven't we? All the goodwill in the world doesn't
amount to fuck all if it's not properly directed. What
those people need is education, irrigation. Not a

ham sandwich. So everyone will get aham sandwich for one day. That's
about it really, isn't it?"
LiveAid are providing education and irrigation, aren't they?
"They might be doing that now, but theyweren't earlier on. IrememberDavid Byrne saying similar things to what I'm saying. But there areorganisations already set up to do that kind of thing, like Oxfam, et-ceterah. To completely ignore them and set up yourown gang makes me well suspicious."
As an afterthought, he added, "Why don't
they move? Nothing grows there, does it?"And Sun City?
"That sounds like aload of foolishness to me.
Just don't playthere, simple, but you don't haveto go and shout and scream and rave about itand put out arecord and go, 'Oooh, look how
clever Jam, I
really care.' It's daft. Where's themoney going?"
Enough of that, then. You may recall that
Lydon appeared in afilm called Order OfDeath,with Harvey Keitel, once upon atime. It was
lousy, and he didn't enjoy it verymuch. He
hasn't done any acting since, but would if
someone offered him adecent script.
"Harvey's abit brutal. He takes this method acting well too seriously.
Those were real scenes. I've still got the bruises to show it. It wasn't thatdifficult, though. I
stayed blind drunk most of the time, which helped.
It was alousy script, impossible to follow or understand. Made very
little sense.
"They ruined it inAmerica at the premiere; they showed the end firstand it was reviewed as such, terrible. It bombed really badlybecause ofthat. It was never made to be abig seller; it was done on avery low budget
for next to nothing, apart from Harvey's wages of course.
"Most of the scenes, Ididn't have the slightest idea what was happening.
I
was completely clueless because Harveywould be there rewriting thescenes at night and I'd come in the next morning, so it was pointlesstrying to learn dialogue and I
just went along with the flow. For that Idid
quite well, Ithought. Doesn't look like I'm totally confused."
Or does it? Lydon, who likes to take everything to the edge and is usually
bluffing wildly, says he intends to undertake aspot of leisurelytouring topromote his new album, which is illuminatingly entitledA/bum. In '83, hecame overwith aHolidaylnn band in penguin suits, who were scared todeath at the yelling, gobbing mobs who greeted them each night. This time
he mightjust use pick-up bands in whichever country he finds himself.
Does he not find it astonishing that people still pay to see him after thedismal performances he's turned in over the years? Because he's justtaking the punters for aride, after all.
"No, Ioffer awell entertaining show," he chortled.
You believe that, do you?
"Yes Ido. Ican't really lose at this smugness I've invented for myself.
Must be infuriating for all you journalist chaps out there."
Won't everyone turn round one day and say, "Sod it, he's gone too far
this time"?
"No. I'm thoroughly amazed by people's stupidity. Ilike to push things
to their absolute limit, but I'm not doing that when Imake records or
performances. But Ido like to playwith the interviews. Isuppose eventhough I'm utterly bland, that's shocking in itself."
The only thing that seems to prick him out of his mocking cynicism isthe thought ofAlex Cox's forthcoming movie about SidVicious andNancy, LoveKills. "A thoroughly disgusting thing to do," fumes Lydon,
though it's not clear whether he's affronted more by the idea of Cox
making acomedy of Sid's life or by the fact that someone will portray
Rotten in the film.
"Without me being consulted, that's quite appalling bad business on hispart, very rude. I'm still alive, boy. He just might get some serious legal
action. I'll have to consider that. Bloody rude. Idon't forget things like thatvery easily."
For the meantime, however, we can savour the prospect of Lydon on
silly old TOTP (he insists he won't do it) and wrap an ear round his heavymetallish new album, also available on compact disc for those of you withmore money than sense.
And finally, John, what will you be when...
"I'm 64?A right rancid moany old git."
John Lydon, this is your life. Adam Sweeting •"Real estateis agood wayof earningmoney bydoing nothing"

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I39

1986-eu
JANUARY,"Far fromserious"Enter the world of the VIOLENT FEMMES—ironic, oddball, and making alot of
converts to their ersatz Southern gothic.
"What we try and do is just play musicthat we like, and we don't take it uponourselves to be leaders in any vanguardof something," says their drummer.

- MELODY MAKER MARCH 1-

A

ND SO THE Lord saw fit to deliver three
Milwaukeean flukes, misfits to aman, safely
from Australia to jolly up aclub or two in thisGodforsaken land and face an amiable inquisition
concerning, among other things, their Oedipal
overdrive. So, how come their eclectic cut-the-crap
clatter, their jaunty, wide-eyed confessionals, their black and blue corn
comedies invariably tantalise us toward memories (or promises,
depending on your teen perspective) of snogging and suicide? And how
come every time the elfin, bespectacled Gordon Gano declares he's got"Faith", Irecall Ray Milland in TheManWithTheX-RayEyes, clawing
out his wretched, overambitious orbs in adesert evangelists' tent at theranting behest of an inflammatory Bible thumper? And, again, howcome these country death songs are so twee yet so disturbing, baptisedin tradition yet somehow heretic, mocking their mentors?
"Ah, Ithink this band is probably one of the most ironic bands
around," explains Gano, singer and songwriterof the Violent
Femmes. "I reallyenjoyed an English
write-up of one of our shows which
said it was too bad that we were
doing somethingthat was musically,
lyrically and show-wiseworthwhile,
but at the same time, we were making
such fools of ourselves because wewere too stupid to realise what wasgoing on. »40

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

413

111,1111•;n4.ttieg.

1986

VIOLENTFEMMES[ASH 1JA NUM -e"

Which is not tu say they te dumb or dubious (though"That's the thing about this band-in the songs, inthe latter is often possible). No, they're aware of their
the whole performance of them, there's all different
contexts alright; they're aware of their reputationlevels of total contradiction going on at the same
within the scheme of things; they're only too aware
moment, where we are serious and as far from beingof what's expected of them, and not onlywill theyserious as possible. It's important and also far away
not play along but, sin of sins, they won't make abigfrom being important.".—
hoo-ha about not doing so. They won't even be antiThus, the Violent Femmes, too contradictory,
CHILDREN OF THE REVOLUTION
rebel rebels to satiate our desire for category.
perhaps too confusing, for most pop palates. Or,
So, do they mean all this God stuff or don' they? I
guess that's the thrill.
again perhaps, confused rather than confusing?
\ad the skill? The instinctive enthusiasts' discernment between irony"No. Too many people, not only musicians nowadays, but politicians,
aad cynicism -the former affectionate, positive and involved; the latter
actors, painters, what have you, tend to take themselves so utterly
bitter, destructive and detached.
seriously. Ifind that really boring." This is the preppy, straight-to-the"Exactly," agrees this pleasant Victor. "You have to deal with thepoint-of-si nister stand-up drummerVictor DeLorenzo speaking.
problems rather than commenting on them.""People's feelings now tend to run towards pessimism, so Ithink, in not
So, again, how come we can't accept hillbillies except on akitsch level?
taking ourselves seriously and trying to live within the moment of what's
How come we have to pretend there's parody being brought into play?
happening onstage, the irony comes across as acomment on something"Dunno?" The voice is louder than the rest, issuing from what should berather than just agimmick, which is what alot of people use it as.
ahippy by looks but isn't. This thorn in pop's side is called, currently,"People should be aware that, in everyday life, there's all kinds ofBrian Ritchie and he spouts and plays guitars.
dichotomies in every individual, so why not afford that kind of"We have an affection for the music and for the audience. Once aband
opportunity to awriter?"starts to think that they're smarter than their audience, that's when theylose the ability to create music that communicates."
HAT THE FEMMES entertain us with is an organic"I think we've cultivated our own uniqueness in away t
hat people feel
migration from tradition to anti-tradition, irony avoiding
we more or less represent the truth that we feel, not the truth of thecynicism, irony-working-on-irony. Most crucially andrecording industry, which, right now, is that you have to have amassive
comically of all, they refuse to confront. They're not about to embark
drum sound and try and sing like Bryan Ferry. It's much easier being selfon acrash course of rebel rock poses to polarise their attitudes into any
indulgent than trying to please everybody. Whatfamiliar guerrilla stance. The Violent Femmes, sweet boys that they
we try and do is just play music that we like,are, won't play ball.
and we don't take it upon ourselves to be
In the cosy, subversive tradition of all things pop, the assumption,
MEAN FIDDLER,
leaders in anyvanguard of something."say, that any mention of family or church must be tongue in cheek and
HARLESDEN,
But
Victor,
what
seems
so
simpleanddaggers drawn is implicitly denied by the Femmes' refusal to allay our—
LONDONnatural to you seems extraordinarily
confusion. They don't give us the benefit of cheap clench-fisted posturing
weird to us.
àla The Alarm; they simply don't let on because it's not their concern.

W

LIVE!
—

Whooping melodrama mmm" 1
6i\IV HAT DO YOU think weareprofessionals or something?"
No, but there are those who thinkthat violence is golden, and that the Femmes
have rusted. But not tonight.
Two-and-a-half hours after the initial blastof "Country Death Song", the Femmes'
polished, if unkempt, freight train of mania
was still on the tracks, stampeding over the
sleepers, and colliding with the drunken
throng. The band that made Milwaukee
famous produce the perfect drunk set. They
start with aflourish of excitement, flounderhalf-way, and end up slumped over abar inalcoholic oblivion. As The Femmes leapt into
the rafters, the audience hit the roof. As theFemmes spent half an hour of straight gospel
bleeding for Jesus, the audience opened
their veins. As the Femmes argued with one
another about which song to play, theaudience got another round in.
Although the word is out that the gleesome
threesome are changing for the worse,
Gordon Gano's stare remained fixed, his eyes
double-glazed, the wrinkle on his browspelling Out To Lunch. It is Gano's chilling
lyrics and gnashing and grinding tonsils thatstill give the trio of misfits their bite- one part
melody, three parts whooping melodrama.
There are those who believe the Femmes
have amonopoly on sardonic irony. But not
tonight. Throughout the sing-along-a-Jesus
ballads it was impossible to tell irony from anironing board -their humour is just too black•12 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

to see in the dark. "Children Of The
Revolution" was dispatched with gusto andreverence, just as "Black Girls" was delivered
complete with drum solo, but without the batof an eye, the tongue in acheek. The Femmes
are in-between daze: unconventional yet
conformist, with one foot in the funny farmand the other entrenched in the Whitehouselawn. Three steps from heaven, and ashortstumble to the bar.
From "Special" to "No Killing", the Femmes'
fat, shapely, though sharply focused barrageof rock'n'brawl became apogoist's nirvana...
until "Good Friend" (the borrowed) was
unleashed and Lou Reed jumped out of thecloset wearing nought but
his underwear. The ballad
coupled New York
underground tragedy withahungover remorse that
gently drifted into snippetsof seedy Reed's "Sweet
Jane". It may have been aparody. It may have been an
apology. It was no excuse.
Yet the bible-belters
wouldn't belt up, instead
issuing sermons camouflaged with guitar
resonance and bolstered with acavalry
charge of bass and drums. Chaos and chorus
danced cheek to cheek through "Gone
Daddy Gone" until both tripped over "Blister
In The Sun". Suddenly and quite effortlessly,
the trio sidled into "Whiter Shade Of Pale"FEBRUARY —only to find their instruments fizzled before
the climax -too much drink!
"That was the first time in five years we've
missed acue," explained Gano. After fiveminutes of recrimination, the band launched(or rather lurched) into tatters of Ramones
and ascrapbook history of British musicfrom "Satisfaction" to "Daydream Believer -.
It might have been anightmare, but not
tonight. It was just asymptom of theFemmes' retreat from areality they once
had such avice-like grip around.
"We think this is apub gig not areal gig."
The crowd were not real people, "Purple
Haze" wasn't real Jimi, only the confusion
was real enough.
"I think we're tripping into
masturbation here..." bywhich time the aledrenched were alreadyhead over heels in love.
Some people might call thegroup wankers, but the truthis they're just too used toplaying with themselves.
Sometime after the cartoon
cabaret collapsed, "Blister
In The Sun" resurfaced. By this time night had
become morning, and nothing made sense except another Pils.
The Violent Femmes are certainly
changing:a band that was once on thewarpath are now completely off thereservation. Tedfrlice

The Femmes' fat,shapely barrageof rock'n'brawl
became apogoist's nirvana

VIOLENT FEMMES"So what's so bad about that? From the tworeviews we've had of The Blind Leading The
Naked [the new Femmes album], it seems thatthe writers are expecting or want ing something
weirder- that's interesting. They only label us
weird because they don't know how to label us,
and that seems the most readily available tag to
put on the thing-here's this weirdo band from
Milwaukee who play gospel music and thensing about fucking.
"We don't mind," Victor smirks. "With that
title, we can go any direction we want, we don't
have to marry any certain kind of thing."
But I'd be happier hearing their festering
version of Bolan's "Children OfThe Revolution"on The Breakfast Show alongside Duran Duranthan tucked awaywith Captain Beefheartaround midnight on Peel.
The hippy-who-isn't laughs: "I think we'drather be with Captain Beef heart than Duran
Duran, actually."
Evidently, and yet even these Femmes, intent
on maintaining freedom with utmost integrity,
have been forced to take compromise into theirscheme of things. Whereas their first album wasahigh-school nightmare of psychotic skink
and hi-jinks dorm depression and their second,
Hallowed Ground, was located in the eerie
claustrophobia and incest of the Appalachiansof Deliverance, The Blind LeadingThe Naked
stalks its obsessions through the more familiar terrain of clubland R'n'B.
Apparently Slash, the Femmes' American company, were so dismayed
bywhat they considered the perverse twist of Hallowed Ground that, at
one point, theywere refusing to release it. The Blind LeadingThe Naked
encountered no such resistance, produced as it was, in amore orthodox
manner, by Talking Head Jerry Harrison.
I'd have thought that was the last thing they needed, being hitched tothe coat-tails of the world's most acceptable oddball band.
"Well, we were extremely paranoid," admits Ritchie. "We made alistof about 20 possible producers and Jerry was one of the only ones wedefinitely didn't want."
But he lived in Milwaukee, and when they met he was more amenable
than expected.
"Jerrywas fantastic," continues Ritchie, "because he was able to go withany idea we came up with and also show us ways to improve that had
never occurred to us. The guy is aHarvard graduate, after all.""Sometimes he got alittle excitable," Gano grins. "Like when he's taking
sips outta this tiny little bottle and I
take alook and it says 'For External
Use Only' on the label.""But you can't help love aguy who shaves his legs," says Victor.
"Well, maybe you can't!"
Gano's cackling.
Aside from the extracurricular entertainments, Harrison also playedon ... The Naked and helped attract passing luminaries like Fred Frith and
Leo Kottke, snaring them into studio jams, adangerous pastime theFemmes have always employed to keep their stuff on the edge.
"D'you know how we can get in touch with Rick Wakeman? Victor asks
after interrogation time.
Itell him to leave it out, Wakeman's awanker.
Victor's obviously taken aback: "What? He played on aBowie record! We
want him to play with us. Is he unfashionable or something?"
Somewhat.
"Why?"
Well, apart from Yes and The Myths And Legends OfKingArthur and
Journey To The Centre Of The Earth, he's reputed to have threatened toleaveA&M if they signed the Sex Pistols.
"Hey!" Victory grins. "He sounds just our man!"
Chary or childlike? I
wonder.
Certainly, I'm prepared to go along with the Femmes' argument that...The Naked is conventional because they don't feel they need to beunconventional just to satisfy our appraisal of their rock'n'roll, but it's
abit of aPicasso situation- there's this scribble, seemingly calculated tothe precise line, and yet afour-year-old could do it unconsciously.

Where do the Femmes fit?
"We're self-conscious and aware of what
we're doing, but the innocence comes in not
imposing limitations upon ourselves. Achild isthe most innocent thing- that's why achild will
walk out in the street or fall down the stairs.
We're willing to do those kind of things- notthat we don't knowwhat we're doing, it's justthat we're not afraid to do it."Gano smiles at Ritchie's suave conceit.
"Childlike, minimalistic- it doesn't make any
June 1986:
posing fora
sense to me to think in those terms."
portrait in
Gano's chuffed and chuckling. In Australia,
Minneapolis,
Minnesota
he'd been told by afan his lyrics were brilliant
because they didn't make any sense. Anotherhad assumed every word poured forth from asoul tortured by precisely the same hang-ups as
the poor student suffered himself.
"Generally, I
think of songs as having alife of
their own, and if somebody comes up to me andasks, 'What does this song mean?', Ialways
wanna knowwhat they think it means.
"Sometimes they might tell me something
Imight not have thought of before, but Istill
think that's valid. We'll do ashow andsomebody'll say, 'I don't understand. You doagospel song and it seems like you mean it
and then you say some things that sound antiReagan. How does this go together? Which is
being serious and which is being i
ron ic?""As if Reagan is the voice of God!" howls Ritchie.
"Oh wow! WOW!""There's all
different
levels of total
contradiction
going on"HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I43

JIM STEINFELD /GETTY

0K, ACCEPTING VIOLENT Femmes songs as mirrors to our own
prejudices still doesn't account for their precarious balance,
wobbling between opinion and observation. Their stuff's so
si in pie and yet solive, as if Gano employs cliche solely to attack thesongs themselves. This religious business, for example...
"OK, it's interesting you bring that up, because as far as my songwriting
goes, that's the least ironic aspect. English journalists-I've never met a
breed so thoroughly convinced that the religious songs, the songs gospel
in nature, are just total sarcasm. They almost congratulate me, thinking
how nifty I've been, but they're wrong. It comes from the heart."And sex? If you rsex songs come from your heart, you must be wellfrustrated.
"Well, it would probably be bad for my reputation if I
wasn't to go alongwith that. I've had my share of that, yeah, but alot of people do. For the sex
songs, Ilisten to alot of Prince records and that gets me into the vibe."
Idon't believe him.
"No, really, I
don't think that asong, to be honest, to have impact, tobe emotionally sincere, has to be apage torn out of adiary. And yet,sometimes, I'm brought to remember how much of my songs are thingsin my life."
Gano's beginning to sound like SirAndrew Eldritch, so I
guess this is
as good atime as any to plunge into the heart of (what's) the matter (?).
Femmes songs are confrontational not through their stance but because
they're undecided. Femmes' songs are self-flagellation, forged in the
moment, hence their emotional swings.
"I write like that. I
don't walk around all day thinking about something,then sit down and write what I've already thought out. My creative
process is very unpremeditated."
Is that why there's so much guilt and paranoia in your songs, because
you're stealing royalties from adevil sitting on your shoulder?
"Good point," yells Ritchie. "You should donate the publishing to somemystical foundation, the Theosophists or something like that.""Look, if somebody's got areason to be paranoid, do you still call themparanoid? If somebody's paranoid because they think everybody's out to
get them, what if everybody is out to get that person? Is that paranoia?
"Look, Igotta go now, I
gotta let some of these fears slip, Igotta focus
again. No, I
don't really think of myself as aparanoid person; fearful but
not paranoid."
And with that I
commend Gano's songs to your neuroses and his soul to
St Peter. Amen. SteveSutherland •

1986
APR

\LK ON 1

BIG AUDIO DYNAMITE,
THE SMITHS, GEORGEMICHAEL AND MOREDAFUOIDEGOF TF'f. GHETTO‘\-

Hostile dispute
NME APR 5S

ID AND NANCY: Love Kills, Alex Cox's
feature film on the life and death of Sid
Vicious, has apparently entered anew
phase of controversy. According to thoseproverbial "sources close to the film", Cox,
who directed last year's cult film Repo Man, isinvolved in apublic and increasingly hostile
dispute with John Lydon, who has neverdisguised his hatred for the Sid film.
The tension between Cox and Lydon increased
recentlywhen the legal rights to the Sex Pistols'
back catalogue passed from Malcolm McLaren to
the ex-members of the group. The court decisioneffec tively gave Lydon amuch more forceful say
in how the music could be used, and therefore
what measures could be taken against Cox's film.
Immediately, rumours circulated that key
scenes showing the Pistols performing "Anarchy
In The UK" on the notorious Thames boat trip
might have to be removed. But apparently all
rights were legally sealed before Lydon could
object and attention has now turned to England's
Glory, ahalf-hour promotional short on themaking of SidAnd Nancy.
Allegedly, owing to an oversight, musicalclearance had not been extended to cover
the short film, and Lydon may now havethe ammunition he needs. England's Glory,
ahumorous and outrageous parody of theconventional promo film, is hosted byactor David Hayman, as acoke-snorting
Glaswegian terrorist en route to
Nicaragua. It is quite unlike the normal
sycophantic films that generallyaccompany major features, and director
Alex Cox and Malcolm McLaren are themajor targets for its cynicism. Lydon may
well be on afool's errand, trying to silence afilm that satirises the man he loves to hate.
ILL---•amar/INT. PRO.DIUCcTeICRtre afi
soceibon
n
",

ir•

S

AplAjsièrX
UES

"Youcan'tarrest
me,I'marock star":
GaryOldmanand
ChloeWebbinAlex
Cox'sSid8, Nancy

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I45

Jello Biafra:
tofightcase "toothand nail"
1. aSigue Sigue Sputnik's
Tony James Clef t)andMartin Degville at theRoyal Albert Hall on
October13.1986"Harmful matter"
MM JUNE 21 Dead Kennedys LP
contains acontroversial insert.

PETER STILL. ULLSTEIN

INDEPENDENT NEWS AND MEDIA /DEITY (3)D
S

IGUE SIGUE SPUTNIK score anotherfirst this week with the announcementthat they are to sell advertising spaceon their debut album.
The album, Flaunt It, will feature eightcommercials spliced between the music. The
Sputniks intend to recoup the cost of making
their records with advertising revenue. They
have already approached companies in
Europe, the USA and Japan, and are currently
considering eight ads per territory.
Tony James -who was still sworn to secrecy
about the album when the Maker tracked him
down in Ibiza -said that this new approach torecord marketing was adirect result of thegroup's interest in all forms of technology.

The Sputniks will only accept adverts for
products that they themselves would use.
They believe the idea will "drastically change
the record industry".
Advertisers include fashion magazinei-D, cellular radio specialists ECT Cellular,
acomputer games company, and EMI
Records, who are currently working on
their own advert.
The group are expecting other bands tofollow their lead in "revolutionising record
marketing" and believe this will cause
record prices to drop.
Sigue Sigue Sputnik embark on afull-scale
tour, already announced, on July 3atSouthampton. The album is due out in July.

"A lot worse than we thought"
NME APR 5S

HANE MACGOWAN, LEAD singer of The Pogues, was rushed to hospital last Friday
night following aserious road accident. MacGowan was hit by ataxi cab as he was about
to get into acar in Westbourne Grove, thrown into the air and left unconscious on the
pavement. In hospital, he was found to have multiple injuries, including afractured arm,
facial cuts requiring stitches and severe damage to ligaments in one leg. Following an
operation on Sunday, his arm and leg are now in plaster, and it is expected he will be in hospitalfor at least another week.
The Pogues- riding high after atriumphantAmerican tour and the recent "Poguetry In Motion"
hit-had just finished recording abatch of songs forthe forthcoming Sid &Nancy film. MacGowan had
been to arestaurant with directorAlex Cox, who
had previously made the acclaimed "A Pair Of
Brown Eyes" video, and as the two were headinghome after the meal, the accident occurred.
According to aspokesman for Stiff Records,
VlacGowan "is alot worse than we initially thought
and could be laid up for quite along time. He'll be in
hospital for awhile, then in plaster for 10 weeks, andafter that there'll be physiotherapy to try and repair
the damaged knee."
The Pogues have been forced to cancel theirforthcom ing tours of Germany and France, where
ticket demand has been such that the French dates
have been sold out for weeks.

EAD KENNEDYS VOCALIST Jello
Biafra faces ayear in prison if he isfound guilty of obscenity charges
being brought against him. Biafra and hislabel Alternative Tentacles Records arebeing taken to court by the parents of a17-year-old girl in Los Angeles whobought their latest album, Frankenchrist.
The album contains afree poster,"Penis Landscape" by Swiss artist HR
Giger, who designed film sets forA/ien and
Poltergeistl and II. Giger also designed
record sleeves for Debbie Harry and ELF'
(Brain SaladSurgery).
Biafra says the charge of "distributing
harmful matter to minors" is the direct
result of "a national power play from
America's religious right-wingers againstrock bands and their music that dates tothe McCarthy era."He has vowed to "fight the case tooth andnail" when it comes to court on July 3.
The Dead Kennedys are being supported
by Frank Zappa and his organisation for
the abolition of censorship in rock music in
the case, which has received national TV
and newspaper coverage in America.

The Smiths'
bassist quits
NME APR 19Jr

UST WEEKS BEFORE The Smiths
release their new LP The Queen Is
Dead, bass player Andy Rourke has left
the group. His replacement is Craig Gannon,
one-time member of Aztec Camera and awellknown session musician. Neither The Smiths
nor Rourke would make any comment on the
split, which had been rumoured for some time.
Meanwhile, the group release anew single,"Bigmouth Strikes Again" (Rough Trade), on
May16. The B-side is aMarr instrumental
called "Money
Changes
Everything"
and the 12-inch
also includes
another original,"Unloveable".
On 20 May, The
Smiths play the
Whistle Test live.

SHRINKRAP!

MM APR

1976

Designer jeans
JOEY: Gloria Vanderbilt, Fiorucci. They lookgood on girls.
DEE DEE: Ionly wear Levi's, the punk-rockjeans. I
wear straight-leg Levi's with abuttonfly. Those designer jeans, the young girls liketo see the bulge in your pants.

The Beastie Boys
JOEY: Idunno. What about 'em? They're
nice guys.
DEE DEE: They got awhite funk sound.
They're good. They know Madonna.

Forest Hills, New YorkDEE DEE: A lovely place if you're Jewish,
and Iam Jewish. I'd like to say "Oy gevalt" toall my friend in the Yeshiva temple.
JOEY: Idon't like Forest Hills. My mom lives
in awelfare centre down on Hudson Street.
DEE DEE: My mother begs for quarters andshows her ass to people.

Moscow
DEE DEE: I'd love to go there and go to
the ballet. I'm gonna go over with my own
money, and go to Leningrad. Ilove theRussians -they're so like Americans, it's all
greed, greed, greed and take, take, take. I'dJoey(ket"sweatermear
Dee Dee: "I'll
flapmymeat"

love to take aRussian girl home and let her
see my 10-inch erection.
JOEY: After Isaw that Elton John video,
Imade up my mind Ihave to go.

Crewcuts
DEE DEE: Good when you're in the army,
and you listen to country &western. Iuseta
have aflat-top in '67, when all the hippies
were around.
JOEY: They're alright.

Amphetamines

Deborah Harry
DEE DEE: She's alittle old now, and she
doesn't look too good, but she'd do. She's
anice piece of ass.
JOEY: What can you say about her?
Videodrome. That lets me off the hook.
DEE DEE: If you want to see something nice,look at Deborah Harry in her panties and bra.

The State Of Pop
JOEY: Sad. Pathetic.

JOEY: Speedy.
DEE DEE: I
think all drugs are really badfor people. Kids shouldn't take those damn
things, especially in England. We useta takethem, but we don't any more.

Tommy And Marky
DEE DEE: Mark is well now. He cracked up.
He went on the welcome wagon, constantly
welcoming people. Like, people would moveinto town, and he would go, "Welcome."
He stopped getting on the welcome
wagon, and he went on the wagon,
and now he just welcomes British
people, who go and welcome
him, and he pulls his dick out andshakes it at people.
JOEY: Ilike Marky. Both names
end in a"y".

The Rock &Roll Hall Of Fame
JOEY: It's agreat idea. I
think it's gonna
be in Cleveland, because there's nothingelse there. They're gonna have some kindof shrine. They don't even have Swingos[rock'n'roll hotel] in Cleveland any more.
DEE DEE: If there are any groupies in
Cleveland, don't tell me. I'll unbutton my fly
and start flapping my meat. I'm gonna do
it. I'll flap my meat.

eGlamour
JOEY: Sweater meat.
DEE DEE: If Joey said "sweater
meat," Ido too. Whatever hedoes, Ido.

Debbie Harry:"she'd do"Colonel Gadaffi
DEE DEE: Reagan's agood
guy, but Joey knows more
about Gadaffi.
JOEY: He's gotta besnuffed out.

Immaturity
JOEY: Beating off.
DEE DEE: Flapping yourmeat. Wang-tang-poopdang. Shitting on the floor,
that's immaturity.

"Too many people, too many problems"
NME JUN 28

T

HIS YEAR'S GLASTONBURY Festival may have been the last,
but the Reading rockfest is poised for acomeback. The
Glastonbury promoter, Michael Eavis, said after the three-day
event: "There are too many people, and too many problems." Eavis had
alicence for 55,000 festival-goers, but gate-crashers and otherunexpected arrivals put the attendance last weekend to closer to
100,000, which may have cost the festival its future. CND will be
anxious, if this is the case, for the event raises more for the anti-nuclear
organisation in three days than it can get in the rest of the year.
Reports that the Reading
Festival will be back inaction this August after atwo-year absence have been described by thefestival's organisers as "premature". The absence of Britain's longestrunning rock festival was caused by the Tory-controlled Reading
Council requisitioning the fest's traditional site for redevelopment andmaking it clear that the event was no longer welcome in the town. But
Labour gained control of the council in the spring elections, and earlier
this month invited the promoter to reactivate the event.
Whether that can happen this year depends on asuitable site being
found (the former camping area is under consideration) and being
able to contract bands at such
short notice.

GOODBY11:9AP.tiFONBURY?

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I47

GARY GERSHOFF, FRANS SCHELLEKENS, RON GALELLA, LTD. /GETTY (3)DEE DEE: We were happening then. We
useta come over here and play, and thenwe'd go back and play CBGB's. We played
there alotta times, hundreds of times. It
was great playing there, being darling of
the underground. In fact, we're the scene
now. We play Madison Square Garden quite
regular, and The Meadowlands, Giants
Stadium, Nassau Coliseum...
JOEY: It was the birth of punk rock, ourfirst album came out, we came over here
and kicked off the whole punk movement,
basically. Kids came to our soundcheckat Dingwalls and told us that hearing"Blitzkrieg Bop" was sort of acall to arms
for them to form their own band.

1986
APR

°k

SheilaEonstage
with Princeat
Madison Square
Gardenduring
theParadeTour,
August 3,1986"Overnight Ib came
pop star',

Introducing... Sheila E. "I've neverdated Prince, we've just always been friends..."NME

W

HEN THE WHEELS of celebrity
are set in motion, the limousine
windows are tainted; bystanders
can see in, but the star is blinded to life outside.
From wake-up time (4am) to airport
departure time (7pm) Sheila E-is-for-energy
spends her day burbling, smiling andmiming the star game. Accompanied by her
managerial assistant, image consultant andbodyguard, she makes the round of radio,press and TV, stopping only to have her face48

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

repainted or her hair immaculately ruffled.
Sheila's reality is one of limitless ambitionand career absorption. Celebrity has haunted
her from her adolescence; it was only amatterof time until she succumbed to its charms. An
all-American girl, she first enjoyed adulation
for her displays of physical prowess.
'Either I
was going to be in the Olympics or
be amusician. Iran alot of track and I
playedsoccer for eight or nine years and brokeseveral records. But I
played drums with myfather when I
was15 and I
got astanding
ovation from the crowd. I
thought, 'Whooah!
What is this?' I
just felt I'm going to play music."
Sheila E-is-for-Escovedo became an
attraction, alongside her father Pete "Coke"
Escovedo, as apercussionist playing Latin jazzin California and South America. Throughout
the '70s, she was an in-demand session player.
In 1978, at an Al Jarreau show in Oakland, she
was introduced to athin, mysterious guy who
was beginning to cause astir writing, playing,singing and producing his own material.
Prince Nelson Rodgers was evidently
attracted to the idea of atimbale-thumping,curvaceous female mixing Latin jazz, funkand pop. It was as individual and as radical arearrangement of the image firmament as his
own star-crossed odyssey of rock music andheavy funk, Sly Stone and Little Richard. And,even in her patent stilettoes, Sheila E-is-forerotic didn't tower over the purple dwarf.
"Sometimes when we're recording we watch
the clock and switch off when it's getting too
long. What happened with 'A Love Bizarre'
was that the beat was so good, we just went on
and on because it felt right."
Twelve minutes of breathless bump and slow
grind, salacious intimations and precocious
fantasy, "A Love Bizarre" is her reactivatedduet with Prince, ostensibly the reason forher visit and one of the few real stormers on
Sheila's two flawed LPs.
"We wrote the song on
the Purple Rain Tour ;mostof the time we're together
is spent writing. Backstage
he usually has apiano, so
he'll get an idea and thenI'll switch on the drum
machine. That one came
together very quickly."
Ask Sheila her definitionof aLove Bizarre and she
can't relate to the song's rude ridicule; shegets girlish giggly, rolls her eyes, looks at thefloor, hums and hahs.
"I'd say it gets quite rough in the back of alimousine, which is aquote from the song."
Is the song personal experience -were you
dating Prince when you wrote it?
"I've never dated Prince, we've just always
been friends, real close."
Sheila E-is-for-in-earnest dedicates her
records to God, but she's on the other end of
the latest moral battering ram against
sexually explicit music.
"What I'm doing is talking about what I
wantto talk about. 1
mean, it's afree country and if
people don't like it they don't have to listen to
it. I'm not saying things that nobody else isdoing. Everybody is in love, has sex, it's justan everyday thing and there's nothing bad
about it. If it wasn't for God making Adam and
Eve and them having sex, then none of us
would be here."
Is sex God's greatest gift?
"Maybe, it could be. Hey, that's agoodanswer -I'm going to use that."
The schedule is running late, but Sheila has
away of allaying grouchy journalists. She's a
personable and perfumed presence, herfeatures are strikingly pretty but the face is
unnecessarily made up. We sit close, onhigh stools in abar, deserted but for thephotographer and Sheila's unobtrusive,
lifelong friend and bodyguard Frank. At
times these trappings of fame seem tohave been forced on her very quickly.
"Overnight I
became apop star in many
people's eyes, but I'm not, I'm amusician,not alot of people know that. When I
played Latin jazz it was different. I'd sit
down and play with other musicians and I
didn't usually sing, but now I
have to go out

and sing. I've never reallydone it before and I
should practise, more but
there isn't time."
And projecting animage, does thatinterest her?
"It's not that it does or doesn't interest me,
it's just that it's part of my life now. I
dress
differently at different times and I
can't go tocertain places because I'll get mobbed.
There's just some things I
can't do any more,
but I
don't mind."
Her father, still asource of advice andassistance, schooled her in the greats of Latinmusic. On record, attempts to merge thisheritage with Paisley pop have often been
confusing rather than asuccessful hybrid, but
Sheila is anxious to keep the faith.
"I'm bringing it more into my music now.
Live, I'm playing alot morejazz in my set. I'm changing
it gradually -what I
want todo next year is record awhole Latin-jazz LP without
any singing."
She's conscious of her
position of prestige in Latinmusic, though maybe herdrive for fame means
forsaking the purists.
"I'm quite unusual; there's
maybe three women popular in Latin musicin the States but not that many female
percussionists, and certainly none that are
fronting aband. Before I
got too busy I
usedto teach other women to play. I
still get callsfrom women who've just started and want tobe like me."For years as asession player with Lionel
Richie, Diana Ross and Marvin Gaye on his
final Midnight Love Tour, Sheila shunned
the limelight. Even now her reluctancestill surfaces.
"I liked playing behind other artists, because
there wasn't any pressure or responsibility, all
you have to do is sit back there and do what
you're supposed to. Being upfront can reallybe alot of pressure. Sometimes I'll look backat the group and think, 'God, all these people
are staring at me and I
feel real stupid. —It was Prince who persuaded her to singwhere Richie, her father and others had
failed. In Paisley Park, as in the film Krush
Groove which features Sheila E-is-foreverywhere, artists are readymade stars, allbearing traces of their regal mastermind's
clothes, imagery and music. Sheila is now
one of the veteran acolytes on alabel
whose prolific output responds to America's"I liked playing
behind otherartists, because
there wasn't any
responsibility"need for ever morecelebrities.
"I think America does
revolve around celebrities,
they're looked up to. Like
USA For Africa, you
couldn't get abunchof steelworkers or people who worked
in construction to go and say, 'Let's getsome food for the hungry.' It has to besomebody people respect, and right now
that's mostly musicians."
Sheila E-is-for-éclat speaks with the smug,
unintentional superiority of The Chosen
Ones ;the fame bubble that keeps her locked
in arecording studio for 24 hours at atime also
keeps her anaesthetised. She recently visited
fascist-run, CIA-backed Chile and spent her
time, when noten stage, trapped in ahotel
room with 2000 fans screaming outside nightand day. But the country's political backdrop
didn't worry Sheila ;she was just flattered thatso many of the audience knew the words andcould hum the melodies of her tunes. But
where does it all lead, this life of frenzied
activity and gratification?
"It's not really the glamorous life, it's real
hard work. If you want to be involved witheverything like I
do, and make all my own
decisions, that means I'm not going to get any
sleep. You have to keep dreaming and haveambitions or else you just don't get anywhere,
you just get stagnated. I
believe you should
try and reach goals and keep life interesting."
But celebrity needs aflamboyant purposeor acauterising edge, otherwise it becomes
another useless by-product of capitalism.
I'm not sure that reluctant girl star Sheila E-isfor-effulgence has grasped this or whether
she's merely basking in the vanity of theglorious reflection.
What do you dislike most about America?
Sheila gives me an incredulous, quavering
look.
"Dislike about America?"
That's what I
said.
"Nothing."
Aw, come on...
"No, 1
like America."
There must be something.
"No, I
like everything.'
People, some of them, must annoy you.
"No, I
like everyone."Blissfully bland in The All-American state ofgrace that is celebrity, Sheila's Emay be for
excitement, electric and effervescent, butlook alittle further and you'll find Eis for
empty-headed, too.
(With thanks to John Lahr's Notes On
Fame.) Gavin Martin-.1111:4111.1
111,-;THE BIGSHEILA E, Latin

and TV, stooping, nniv rn

"We're a
product ofLondontoday""The idea is to do thebusiness on three or four
different levels," says

Lida muuou u IhitIVII IL

man WM( 1."To
be arock'n'roll band,to make good records,
to be aproper live
band and to reach thedancefloors as well,

MELODY MAKER
HAT WE NEED is love."
Mick Jones' goofy grin
confronts me across thetable and I
gulp. Now this!
hadn't expected. Was hehaving me on? Were thefunny cigarettes talking? Could this be the self-same BAD
I'd assumed would spout acreed to suit theirgangster gear?
Idouble-check for awry smile, some sign that it's awindup. I
get nothing but Don Letts nodding his approval so, Ido
all I
can, sit back and let these two big guns go for it.
"I haven't heard about love fora while and I
think,
nowadays, when you live in the city, it's all such arush thatyou forget about the spiritual side ofyourself, the bit that
actually keeps you together. Imean, we don't have to do alotwe just have to lead peaceful existences, right? I'm spiritually
weakbut I
think it's because of the environment. Ican't
imagine it in my own home but I
think ifwe all could, if wewere all really peaceful in our homes, then there would bemass peace," says Jones, wide-eyed. Letts nods, bushy-tailed.
Sounds alarmingly naive and idyllic to me.
"Well, it's really difficult. I
go to agig and I
ask myself, 'How
can! love these people?' Ijust look atthem and Ithink, 'My god, this is areallydifficult job.' But at least !acknowledge
that within myself, at least I'm thinking
about it, admitting my weakness."
And this lapsed humanist with acheeky leer knows exactly who's to blamefor our fall from grace.
"The media is alot to blame for... WAR.
Although bad things happen, maybe weshould have apaper that doesn't have allthat stuff in it, that only has good news.
It probablywould n't sell asingle copy,
which is shit, innit?" »-•MickJonesand Don
Lettsintg86:aiming
for"aspiritual
successaswellasa
materialone"with
Big Audio Dynamite

1986
AP

à

REX FEATURE5

All manner of thoughts clamour to mock his idealism, any number ofparanoias scream about Big Brother and the selective doctoring of news
to opiate the people, but as I
glance up from my typewriter, what dol see?
The Sun's headline, "Thrilled To Blitz" and "Gadaffi Baby Killed" and I
think, 'What needs to be done needs to be done, but why glory in it? Why
seek to justify what any sane person would consider ashocking, if
necessary, act by pumping it full ofjingoistic fervour?' Oh yes, Ilaughedalright, but the laughter was hollow.
"It's abit frightening, because the only people going round saying'peace and love' are your born-again Christians, and they're all abit
scary, know what Imean? You ain't sure where they're coming from,
although you do know that they're in connection with The Mothers Of
Prevention and upcoming censorship issues. Idon't think we need any
outside censorship force, although I
would like to see all the groups
censor themselves, or at least show some signs of responsibility-thenthere wouldn't be any need for those kinds of people to come in and start
stomping all over everything and sayingwhat should and shouldn't be.
"But no, it won't happen because the media keep selling theirnewspapers and it hasn't been associated with anyglamorous group since
The Beatles did 'All You Need Is Love' on alive satellite across the world
with whoever the leader of the Russians was and Ford... orwhoever it was."It's true that, in the great pop equation, peace hasn't been apretty sightfor some time now. Reduced through commercial concerns to afashionand harnessed to along-haired, dope-smoking, idiot-dancing sloth, itlost its credibility- and that, as any cool dude can read in The Face, is what
pop is all about. Being positive just can't match smashing up hotel rooms
for excitement, and Imean, even Milton had trouble making God as
groovy as the up-'n'-at-'em Satan in Paradise Lost.
But OK, so what if pop isn't amature enough medium to deal withanything more important than the veneer of acquired attitudes? What if it
is just an action/reaction cycle? Well, the rebel is rock's biggest hero and hesure stuffed peace when it became bloated and boring, so maybe it is timethat punky Joe down the King's Road got turned over by some nouveau
hippy togged up like adandy. Maybe style and samaritanism, cool andcaring, could become synonymous again. Designer pacifism, anybody?
Certainly, LiveAid, Sound Waves and the burgeoning benefit circuitsuggests there's ashift towards benevolence even if, as yet, the support's
there without its own suitable songs to match. Could BAD, with theirastute sense of the zeitgeist, turn out to be the first big peace'n'Iove band
since The Beatles?
"Well, Ithink the most brilliant thing that's happening to pop music is
Bob Geldof going in and just saying the same things over and over again
until people heard him. He was saying one thing and one th ing alonethat there's all these people fuckin' starving. That, to me, is the greatest
act of this decade and Ilove the geezer for it."
There are some, though, who still don't understand. In arecent
particularly imbecilic piece in Sounds, some hack attacked BAD for not

being hard enough, utterly failing to comprehend that, while the rebel
without acause needs the stigma of the bad-boyloner as asign of his
superiority, the rebel with acause craves mass appeal. So, just as Sigue
Sigue Sputnik are acome-all pastiche of the rebel stance, adeliberately
easily accessible outrage designed to sell to newlyweds in the suburbs, so
BAD are tailored to appeal- an inclusive rather than exclusive rock group.
Still, though, the confusions come thick and fast, probably because twoof BAD's prime exponents were instrumental in exposing and destroying
the hippies -Jones with The Clash and Letts with his enthusiastic supportof the punk rock movement, captured through his camera.
"Well, we weren't really the nihilistic branch, Jones says of The Clash.
"Necrophilia wasn't our thing. What we were interested in then, and what
I'm still interested in, are ideas and life itself. What I've learned is to enjoy
my life now-I think that's the most important thingyou can do. Whatwas exciting about punk was that it was outside the control of the record
companies, and it wasn't negativity that made it outside, it was its vitality."
Just as Jones is justifiably proud of putting one over on the companies
who'd grown sated and safe on mediocrity, so he's adamant that BAD are
in full control of their own destinies. He refers to CBS as "a benevolent
auntie", much as the Sputniks treat EMI.
"Lots of people took the wrong aspects of punk, stuck asafety pin
through their noses, started gobbing, all that. But there's even more No
Future now than there ever was, yet the media got hold of the negative
aspect of it at the time and did ajob on it, so that was how we appeared.
"We never wanted to be associated with The Damned, because The
Damned were dopey, d'you knowwhat Imean? We didn't want nuffink to
do with gobbing and all that. What was interesting and exciting about it
was that the people there were areal creative force."A

NOTHER CAUSE FOR confusion is BAD's use of film andsound images in their records and videos, images whichsuggest, if anything, macho violence rather than brotherly
love. "Medicine Show", for instance, features Clint Eastwood in his
Man With No Name mode.
"Yeah, we don't need another Clint Eastwood, we don't need any more
Miami Vice, but that track is about the gullibility of people and how themedia sells them any old shit and they swallow it. You can take it on adouble level, because you can say, 'Hold on aminute, are they saying that
we buy any old shit and here's another load of old shit coming along?"
Well, are you?
"No, we like the idea of taking from the media and using it, takingwhat
we want from it, what we like."
So you take the good, the bad and the ugly?
"Yeah, just because we don't like theAmericanisation of Europe, the 7-11
on the corner, the McDonald's and the Kentucky Frieds, doesn't mean
there aren't certain elements of style we do like, we're taking the piss outta
them pretty often. Like, as far as I'm concerned, Clint Eastwood is arightwing asshole who lives up a
November 7,1986:
mountain in California somewhere,
BAD's (1-r)Don Letts.
but he's good on the screen. I
don't
MickJones and Leo
think it's too bad to be as glamorous
Williamson The Tubeas Clint Eastwood and to use that,but we certainly don't go aroundgoing, 'Yeah! Clint Eastwood isgreat!' We just take what's goodabout him and use it to our cause.
"See, we see what the media is,
we see how they have made HATE
and WAR the gods, the deity. You
know what the laity is? The
uninformed masses-they are adeity, the rest of us are alaity. What
we have done is see what the media
does and take back something fromit to use against it."As well as the crucial part theyplay in BAD's attack from within,these stolen snatches of movie lore
are an escape from the straitjacket
of formularised pop promomaking. Don Letts, maker of The
Punk Rock Movie and many
pioneering promos, shakes his

BIG AUDIO DYNAMITE

locks in disgust: "Video castrated the bollocks off
rock'n'roll. When Istarted, I
could do what Iliked
I
could experiment, but now the record companies
tell you exactly what theywant, what to do."Videos today are made ruthlessly, with specificmarkets in mind, and it's asign ofjaded times when
all the images are assembled either to appeal tonostalgia or to some cliched notion of the future.
BAD, on the other hand, are crucially NOW. They
have no conception of past, present or future, they exist for the moment.
"Yeah, that's what's so great about Nic Roeg, the way he presents time in
his films. All of asudden you're in the past and then you're in the future
and the wayyou get from here to there is never really explained."
Jones, aself-confessed Time Bandit, has lifted substantial chunks of
Roeg's most infamous works- The Man Who Fell To Earth, Don't Look
Nowand, specifically, Insignificance- for the video that accompanies"E= MC 2", BAD's biggest hit so far. In fact, the song was written about thefilm and influenced it right down to the way it was cut.
"We're gonna release aremix," Jones chortles, "Albert Einstein Meets
The Human Beatbox'. We co-wrote asongwith Einstein, actually- I
much
prefer to work with established professors than old, establishedmusicians. The only thing is, he's only gonna be allowed to hold thebeatbox, because he's not agood live performer."I
take it, then, with all this time-slipping going on, that BAD don't see
themselves as the future of rock'n'roll.
"No. As soon as you say those sort of things, you lay yourself open andpeople start asking themselves, 'Well, are the group what they say they're
about?' I'm speaking from past experience
when I
say that alot of times you'll find, if agroupsays they're about something, they're about
exactly the opposite."Through this lack of respect for tradition, theirpilfering and repriming of accepted sights andsounds, BAD are the closest we're about to cometo something new, an active amalgam,
confederates of the Beastie Boys (whose Deflam
label is releasing BAD in the States) and Sigue
Sigue Sputnik, run, of course, by Jones' old mate
Tony James. BAD, it seems, are one of the few
outfits around with nothing but praise for thefifth-generation rock'n'rollers.
"All the other groups are jealous, aren't they,"
Jones sniggers. "They're all too busy living in thecity, being jealous, not being peaceful enough. And Ithink what's gonna
happen to those people is that their heads are gonna explode because

language which breaks everything down to the lowest
common denominator and gets all our old people tobelieve it." Jones is off again. "It's the media! It all fits
in with the reactionary government we live under."In away, perhaps, BAD's task is impossible; toreach mums and dads, sons and daughters without
belonging to them, without The Sun making thempublic property and divesting them of their dignity?
"Ummmm... Ithinkwe can blame the '60s for alotof this in terms of the way the media reported things, convincing people
they'd never had it so good and that it was amost wonderful time, while
Kissinger was getting the Nobel Peace Prize for bombing Cambodia andflattening Laos and handing it over to the Khmer Rouge."
Certainly, the media profile of an age can appear somewhat misleadingon closer scrutiny. Like, there was aseries of swinging never-had-it-sogood '60s movies on TV recently-Poor Cow, Alfie, etc- and theywere allutterly depressing, obsessed with rape and abortion. Punk, too, wassupposed to be shocking at the time, but in an amazingly hypocritical
reversal, the same voices once raised against its outrage are now
bemoaning the passing of its brutal energy. And the royalty too -Fleet
Street would have us believe they're scared, but it's only since the FirstWorld War that the rags have treated the Wi ndsors with any respect at all.
Before that, royalty-baiting was fair game.
"Oh, there's abig love story," laughs Jones, referring to [engaged royal
couple] Andy and Fergie. "But the trouble with that one is that it isn't
glamorous enough; it isn't glamorous to the kids, it leaves the people
nowhere. It's like 'Stu ff The Jubilee', remember? It's exactly the same'Bollocks To The Wedding'. What they should do
is take it to America, do it on London Bridge in
Arizona and make abig HBO special."I
wonder if Jones is surprised that there hasn't
yet been outright, wide-scale rebellion?
"Well, there's loads to react against, I
dunno.
What amazes me is how Thatcher can sit there
on Face The Press orwhatever and bare-faced lie
about things, how she can go round offering
people knighthoods if they stop talking about
Sigue Sigue Sputnik. And she gets away with it
because of all the media bludgeoning- people
actually think that's what it's all about. It's
almost as if they don't think any more."So, what's BAD's notion of victory?
"Freedom to exercise our ideas, notnecessarily abig bank account," says Letts. "A spiritual success as wellas amaterial one.""It's good ifwe go on Top OfThe Pops, though," Jones adds, "because
then realistically there's something else out there as well. It's good if wego on with those conventional acts, because Ithinkwe blow them off.
1mean, how often do you see dreads looking like they've just come outof the casino? We're so used to seeing the stereotypical down-thefrontline type thing, but we've got afilmmaker and one who has his own
Fort Knox full of our tapes-they're eminent, successful men, and Ithink
it's good to show all those dreads out there, who people think are abit

"It's all goneback towhat it was
before punkcarne in"they're living in aconcrete jungle."
Um... yes, well, anyway... about the music...
"The idea is to do the business on three or four different levels-to be a
rock'n'roll band, to be able to make good records, to be aproper live bandand to reach the dancefloors as well, black and white. See, I
see this band
being formed, if not in fact, inspirit, on the dancefloor. The story is, as I
was kicked out of The Clash, I
went flying through the air and landed on adancefloor in New York, andas! looked up, two dreads were in space, so I
reeled 'em in and that's howwe started, adance band. That doesn't mean
'Dance, fuck everything else, it's just anotherway we're going. We don't
want to limit ourselves to anyone thing- d'you knowwhat Imean?-'0h,
here come The BigAudio Disease with their Gothic following"
Oddly enough, probably because Jones strikes neat guitar poses, BAD
have been referred to as old-fashioned.
"Well, there are certain traditional aspects. Ilike Chuck Berry andHowlingWolf and Robert Johnson and Ilike Hoagy Carmichael- those
things are great and they'll always be great. 1can't say the same aboutfuckin' Nik Kershaw-I don't think that's ever gonna be great, Idon't eventhink it's great now!So we take certain things from the past that we like,because history is important- if we don't know our history, howwe gonna
fuckin' learn anything?"
Does this perhaps explain why the three most exciting things
happening in the British singles charts around these times are thebrainchildren of three old punks-Jones, James and Lydon?
"Maybe," says Letts. "Certainly, there's no example for the young people
to follow today-it's old man stuff. It's all gone back to what it was before
punk came in. There's no risk-taking, they all fit nicely on the charts, they
all fit in with the way Terry Wogan talks, they all fit in with the new horrifichippyish or something, that they're not.
"Seriously, Ithink we should all take agreat example from the way thehonourable Bob Marley lived his life."
Letts agrees. When he first met Marley, he says he dressed as awhite man
and all his values were white and he felt kinda weird and unfulfilled. Then
one night, he followed Marley's coach back to ahotel after agig, sat in thecorner for awhile until he was noticed and then stayed talking till dawn.
"I was achanged man," he says. "I realised the ghetto wasn't what wewere about, that we have agreat heritage that actually goes back beyond
alot of western culture. Now I
feel like amanifestation of my heritage.""See?" Jones ribs me. "What's cool about BigAudio Dynamite is we've
got Haile Selassie and Elvis Presley. We're aproduct of London today.""People might not realise it from reading The Sun, but all black people
aren't running around rapingwhite women," says Letts. "And Ithinkthat's what's particularly special about this group-we share abackground, we have shared common experience plus acompletely
different cultural heritage. Imean, we both know who Ena Sharples is!"And, with that, they're off, Letts cadgi ng alift with Jones because cabs
won't stop for dread, even in natty designer suits.
Oh yes, there's still along, long way to go. stevesiitheriand •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I53

"One woman's
experience",•

ROSANNE CASH is about as country "as she is metal". Still, herormy marriage and addictions have helped her tap into therings of thmuch to her surprise. "I didn't listen
ntry»my's daughter. "I hated it."

eee e

e I

4e.te-ae

1* «
1- •

, g•

7e.

RosanneCash
photographedina
motel:"I'vealways
hadaburningdesire
towrite-that's
inbred,Iguess"1986 I55

ar

1986
APR

0

NME

California everybody does them. But
after awhile it stopped being recreational
OSANNE CASH
and became part of my personality. It
RUFFLES her punky
stunts your emotional growth.
designer coiffure and"Numbness is areal good word for
shrugs. "I'm probably
it. Ihaven't taken drugs in two years
as far from that pureand Istill feel that parts of me and mycountry sound as I
awareness are just opening up.
am from metal, but they've just found"It's growing older, too. About threeaway of marketing it. Ido mind theyears ago Irealised you have to takedefinition, it doesn't make sense. It's
responsibility foryour life in alot of ways.
just an easy handle fur the media."
You couldn't just coast, the only way toInevitable, I
guess, that the daughter
4
take power was to take responsibility andofJohnny Cash should be given thepart of that meant giving up drugs."
rhinestone saddle, but reallythere's little on her latest LP Rhythm And
Did turning 30 seem like you'd reached alandmark?
Romance that warrants the label. Her sound is cross-country, owing more
"Yeah, for the first time I
felt self-contained, like Ihad ahandle on myto the crisp bright side of LA pop than it does to her hometown of Nashville.
own power. Whereas in your twenties it's all flailing about with
But the pundits persist. Together, she and husband Rodney Crowell haveinsecurity and anxiety. You're unsure of who you are orwhere you're
been labelled "country music's reigning royalty". Rosanne shudders.
going. Now I've become much more centred.""We make areal conscious effort to stay out of that bullshit. Idon't buy
that myth. There's awhole package deal that you're expected to buy if
RAUMA, DISSATISFACTION AND restlessness were recurring
you're in country music. There's acertain way to relate to your fans, afactors in the development of this wayward talent, born incertain way to make records, away to look, to act and move through theMemphis in 1955, the first child of Joh nny Cash and his firstmachinery to become successful. I
just don't buy it and neither does
wife Vivian Liberto. She recalls her parents' marriage as being fiery,
Rodney. In fact, it makes me feel uneasy.
with bickering and arguments when her pill-popping father returned"Those people are very sweet and genuine, but Ireally don't see life as
from his frequent tours. They split up when she was!!, by which timethat black and white, certainly not that simple. 1
just think there's an
Rosanne and her mother had relocated in California.
individual way to approach success, to approach life...""The first music I
heard was Ray Charles, Marty Robbins and my dad's.
Despite the awards and chart-topping records, Rosanne's ambivalence
But, as! grew up and began to make my own choices, I
didn't listen to
to fame has held her back from consolidating her success.
country music at al1,1 hated it. It wasn't arebellious thing, I
just didn't like
"I've got really contradictory feelings about the whole thing.lwant to be
country music."
successful, but at the same time I
don't want to give my life away."
Sheltered by her mother's strict Catholicism, she went, supervised, to
Yet your songs could hardly be more personal.
concerts by Donovan and Peter, Paul &Mary but listened to The Doors,"It's rea I
ly adilemma, because Iuse writing in aself-indulgent waythe Stones, The Beatles and, later, Elvin Bishop and Tom Petty. But she
for my own therapy and working things out. And at the same time you
still had no musical ambitions, hating the notoriety she attracted
become veryvulnerable. This all sounds very self-pitying, doesn't it? Thisbecause of her famous father.
is what Ido, it's mywork."
On graduating from high school, she jumped at the chance to travel withThe Johnny Cash Show initially as alaundress, eventually as asinger.
"The summer was the killer' Between our hearts and minds/Everyday"When we were on the bus, he'd start singing old country songs. And
adrama I
Draggingby in quarter time"- "Halfway House"
Ithought, 'God, some of those are pretty neat.' Then he made alist of 100
essential songs for me and my stepsister to learn- old folk songs, standard
Released and largely overlooked last year, Rhythm And Romance iscountry, Carter Fam ily songs. So I
started to get alittle interested."
Rosanne's fou rth, most calmly authoritative and consistent LP. Drawing
After two years and aheartbreaking love affair, she left ("I didn't want tofrom atempestuous year in her marriage and apersonal battle against
spend the rest of my time with my parents") for Los Angeles.
drug abuse, the songs are both paradigms in the craft of songwriting
There she spent awhile studying method acting and met her futureand sharp exercises in self-criticism and revelation. It's central tohusband Rodney Crowell at aparty in Waylon Jennings' house. Crowell
Rosanne's way with the word and melody that she absorbs the listener
was anew breed of count ry writer, drawing on the imagery and traditionin her struggle, where most would alienate with introspective analysisof the past but bringing an adventurousness to his lyrics andand neurosis.
arrangements (his "I Ain't Living Long Like This" is astandout on"It's just one woman's experience, her progress through arelationship.
Jennings' minor classic HonkyTonk Heroes albu m).
Iapproached it from asongwriter's point of view. From the beginningl
Following an ill-formed debut album, Rosanne's second LP, Right Or
said this was going to be asongwriter's album. I
guess that would mean,
Wrong, yielded three hit singles, but she began to have anxiety attacks
since it's largely autobiographical, that it's aconcept record."
about bringing up her first child in the Los Angeles fast lane. She moved
to Nashville and released Seven Year Ache (which includes "Blue Moon
"You give me no reason to cry, but Ido IYou tell me you don't tell me lies, isAfter Heartache", agorgeous tear-stained opus, still my favouritethat true?" -"Never Gonna Hurt"
Rosanne song, and "Somewhere In The Stars").
Despite continued acclaim, Rosanne wasn't happy with either her
The record hints at broader themes too; the inclusion ofJohn Hiatt's
personal life or professional output and alay-off ensued before"Pink Bedroom" gives it asavage tinge-taking ascalpel to the miserably
Rhythm And Romance. Usually fraught and nervous in the studio,
empty lives and adolescent daydreams of poor little rich girls. The songs
this time she went in without the crutch of her husband as producer.
maybe accessibly sweetened but the stance is unflinching- Rosanne's
How did he react to the album's frankness?
cool blue voice cuts throughthe gloss, singing of doubt,
weakness, desperation anddeceit. But the problem isn't
just wanting and needing love,it's the inability to feel love.
How apt that une of Middle
America's finest songwriters
should address herself toemotional numbness.
"I started doing drugs
when Iwas 14 -in Southern

T

56 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

ES

FROM THE Plik BEDROOM

Marchi5,1986:
performing on
SaturdayNightLive"Well its not easy, is it, having your personal
life opened up? He can appreciate the songs
from an objective viewpoint as asongwriter. But
between me and him it's adifferent thing."
She's still not totally satisfied with the record,
pertinently noting that the clear, luminous huesof the music sometimes act to smother the
calculating innocence, lethal charm andmeanness beneath the surface.
"I feel the songs stand for themselves, but thesound doesn't let you get close enough to them.
You know what's odd is that Ididn't go in with an
idea about the sound as much as the songs. That
was my main involvement. But now I've got areal strong idea what I
want the sound on thenext record to be like.
"But you're never satisfied or else you become complacent and start
doing parodies of yourself. I
appreciate dissatisfaction.
"I've always had aburning desire to write-that's inbred, Iguess.
Everybodywants to become better, don't they? In that sense I'm very
ambitious, in terms of pleasing myself rather than looking for outward
success. Sure I
like attention, but at times it makes me very anxious."
If you hadn't had astormy marriage, would you still get inspired?
"I don't believe in that thing that you have to be miserable to be creative.
I
think there's awellspring of stuff that you can continue drawing on andyou don't always have to be miserable to do it. Besides, Ithink thatcreative thread carries its own angst with it. It's self-perpetuating."
With most of the follow-up to Rhythm And Romance alreadywritten,
and Crowell's first album in five years, telling his side of the story, due forrelease, it seems that two of America's best NewAge artists are back onsolid ground. While Rosanne regards herself first and foremost as awriter, she feels the personal nature of her songs begs her own

interpretation, although eventually she'd liketo write for others.
Having recently taken up meditation,and eschewing the dogma of her Catholic
upbringing, Cash's religious outlook is opposite
to her parents' and the country tradition.
Likewise her political outlook.
"Anti-Reagan. Idon't trust anyone who takes
money away from education and food for
pregnant women and puts it into weapons.
"As awriter Istill feel like aneophyte, so it's all
autobiographical, but Ihope to God it gets to thepoint where Ican write outside of myself. That's
part of your growth as awriter, I
guess."
For pleasure Rosanne listens to Los Lobos,
Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and Kate Bush. Her favourite writers are Rodney
Crowell (surprise, surprise), John Hiatt, Elvis (humph) Costello andChrissie Hynde.
Her sound and taste reflect anew era of cosmopolitan country. It bears
scant relation to the rootsy homeliness of The Judds, George Strait and
Ricky Skaggs; but if it is to retain relevance man age of increasing
technology and dwindling agrarian isolation, the Nashville hierarchy
that rejected Rhythm And Romancewould be wise to accept her.
One factor that does link Rosanne to the past is the subject matter of her
songs-she deals with pain and heartache graphically and imaginatively.
Why is sadness astaple part of country songs, old and new?
"Because the human condition isn't that different for everybody, andit's something everyone relates to."Isn't it abit odd that we should get enjoyment from reflected misery?
"It's not so much enjoyment as healing; throwing alight on it andshowing what it is starts ahealing process. For the writer and whoever
hears it. That's part of what music's about, isn't it?" Gavin Martin •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I57

LM. LEWIS IR. /NBC /GETTY"I use writing
in aself
indulgentway -for myown therapy"

1986
APR

ti

*

"Wedon't believein
leprechauns,sowhy should
webelieveintheQueen?",Morrisseyairshisfeelings
onthemonarchyin19136_r

"ft's been
agreatstrain"On behalf o'
THE SMITHS theirsinger MORRISSEY
discusses their newwork —and the band's
unique place in the"vile" music businesealongside Madonna,
Prince and Bob Geldol"Complaining is sounmanly," he says,"which is why I
doit so well!"

THE SMITHSThe Queen Is Dead

- NME JUNE 7ORRISSEY'S ELEGANT RETREAT in
one of Chelsea's most sought-after
lilac-scented squares is every bit
the English gentleman's home.
Admittedly the huge matt-blackghetto blaster and the naked star-isborn lightbulbs round the bathroom mirror rupture theatmosphere somewhat, but the feel is decidedly classic.
Sherlock Holmes might have taken up residence here,
indulged himself with alittle opium and asilk smoking
jacket, solved afew cases.
"l could never really exist in anyplace unless it pleased
me in every single aspect-which this almost practically
does," he tells me while pouring tea into some fine china
cups. "III couldn't have really beautiful furniture I'd sleep
in ashoe box." And, anticipating the response, he adds,"I was always like that really."
This rented mansion flat is his second
home. He also owns ahouse in Manchester
looked after for him by his mother, but his
considerable book collection, spread eitherside of the marble fireplace, implies thatat least half of his soul has comedown to
London. Icannot find anything on theseshelves that surprises me. Wilde, Dean,
Beaton, Kael, Delaney... an unashamed
shrine to his most revered icons.
Obsessed as he is by English culture, Iask
him whether he's read any of the country's
more contemporarywriters. Ian McEwan,
Graham Swift, Martin Amis even? He looks »HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I59

1986
AP

e

at me as if I'm clinically insane. "Not even on awet day. One reads thename Leslie Thomas and thinks nobodywith aname like that could
possibly write an interesting book."
When I
point out that he's been responsible for popularising agroupwith the blandest name in the history of pop, he says, feigningweariness,"Yes Iknow... it's been agreat strain. You see before you amere cast of aman," and bursts out laughing.
On the contrary he looks the picture of health compared to the days
when only his quiff seemed well fed, so perhaps there's something to besaid for clinging to one's familiar obsessions. It seems extraordinary that
he's still reading the latest books on the Moors Murderers and James
Dean. It's all meticulously deliberate. "I'm restrictive," he notes with thehint of asmirk. "I can lapse into Jane Austen, never quite Dickens, but
nothing outrageously modern really."
Arequest to peruse the record collection is
declined. "I keep mine in Manchester. That's
the sort of thing Ido in private. They're little
bathroom activities, playing records.1 mean,I
could despise aperson if Icame across aparticular record in their possession, however
kind that person had been to me in the past. One
rancid LP and I'd be lashing out at their shins!"
Imake amental note to bury that first
Madonna LP should he ever return the visit.
Further conversation only confirms that
Morrissey is diligently chiselling away at thesame granite image that was first unveiled when
The Smiths released their debut single, "Hand
In Glove", in May of 1983. Except the statue's

almost finished now. It's more aquestion of polishing, of honing acreation that's almost Luddite in its refusal to accept the present, let alone
the future.
With his gods in aglass case, the litany also embraces George Formby,
British films of the '60s, especiallyA Taste OfHoney, stock tragedies like
Monroe, amind virtually closed to most contemporary music... "Notanother hip hop record or whatever they're called".., artwork for the new
Smiths LP, The Queen Is Dead, that borders on parody, and an archetypal
film still of asereneAlain Delon, it's easy to wonder how The Smiths could
ever do anything fresh.
The singles have kept coming, though, and with the possible exceptionof "Shakespeare's Sister", all have been worth treasuring. But close
observers have seen the stumbles. Along and acrimonious kitchensink-to-court-room row with their label Rough Trade (once an alliance
between indie and great white hope that was
depicted as some kind of political statement)
delaying the release of the new LP by eightmonths-very rock biz, that -whingeing in thecamp about low chart placings and, worse still,
the debilitating curse of pop groups throughout
the known universe that is euphemisticallyknown as "personal problems".
That said, for their supremely dedicatedfollowers, The Smiths remain the only groupworth bothering with, and for once these fansaren't far wrong. On first hearing, The Queen Is
Dead might be assumed another exercise in
consummate Smithdom. After all, nothingmuch has changed on the surface. The same

"I felt there
was one lastvein untapped
and wetapped it"

Classic Smiths:(I-r)Andy Rourke,
Johnny Marr,
Morrissey andMike Joyce.IIh 1, lulSof•

60 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

THE SMITHS

THE SMITHSThe Queen Is Dead
It's also one of the most exciting rock songs
lineup, guitars and drums, no horns or
THE NEW LP
The Smiths have ever made, Johnny Marr's
keyboards, no fanciful departures. Yetmusic pulling the listener into agiddying
further listening reveals arecord touchedblack farce.
by amusical and lyrical vision that dwarfs"I didn't want to attack the monarchy inmost around them.
asort of beer-monster way," he explains
Its pleasures are all the more heightenedin that ever-more-seductive Manchester
for their rarity. The Smiths' breakthroughbrogue. "But Ifind, as time goes by, thisin '83 was sudden and exhilarating.
happiness we had slowly slips away and isThree LPs and countless singles later
replaced by something that is wholly grey
and nobody's followed them. The indie
and wholly saddening. The very idea of thescene isn't so much aghetto any more, it's
monarchy and the Queen Of England isashantytown from which there's nobeing reinforced and made to seem more
escape. And the majors preserve theiruseful than it really is."tidy and mostly vacuous domain with a
Isuggest that the hardest thing to stomach
fervent sense of what is right and wrong forabout the monarchy these days is the way
mass consumption.
they're increasingly used as political
While championing Easterhouse andcamouflage. Five million unemployed?
at one stage The Woodentops (whom he
Have another royal wedding, chaps.
now insists on calling The Sudden Flops,"Oh yes, it's disgusting. When you
acomment that reflects not just theconsider what minimal contribution
dashed expectations but their campaign
they make in helping people. They neveragainst him which culminated with aunder any circumstances make ausefulbomb "threat" -such serious young boys!).
statement about the world or people's
Morrissey has now adopted aposture of
lives. The whole thing seems like ajoke,
extreme pessimism, placing his group as
ahideous joke. We don't believe inthe full stop at the end of Rock Babylon.
leprechauns, so why should we believe in"But what else can happen," he says
the Queen?
matter-of-factly. "Is there anything else"And when one looks at all the individuals
to happen? No there isn't, because thewithin the royal family they're soindustry is dying, and the music is dying.
RELEASED
magnificently, unaccountablyand
It's like if you look at the film industry,
unpardonably boring!I mean, Diana
there's really nothing else that can happen
MONDAY 16 JUNE 1986
herself has never in her lifetime uttered one
All the stories of human life have been told.
statement that has been of any use to any
Ifelt there was one last vein untapped andRot 'GH
1,1>TNIBI IKIl Kl TM. 'MUM.
member of the human race. If we have to put
we tapped it. Now that source has been
up with these ugly individuals, why can't
used there's really only cultural desert inthey at least do something off the mark?"
front of us, nothing but cultural desert.
But if the royal family do achieve something, it's to bringAmerican"Even if you detest The Smiths, you have to admit they have their own
tourists to this country, which as you might expect, is hardly asource ofcorner, but it's not really possible to build one's own corner any more.
joy for dear Morrissey. It goes deeper than that though. His disgust for ourThat The Smiths have their own corner is in itself quite remarkable.
new England is fuelled by its steadyAmericanisation. The missiles, the"I mean, I
was ill and Isaid I
was ill. Nobody had ever said that theywere
burger bars, the one-dimensional me-generation lust for gold-plated,
ill before. Within this beautiful sexy syndrome [popularised NHS
designer-stamped success.
spectacles! I
didn't popularise the hearing aid-thank God that didn't
Unwillingly dragged screaming into the 20th century, Morrissey
catch on -but that again was one of my statements. Not aprop, because
seems in so manyways closer to his previous generation than histhat sounds like marshmallow shoes or apolka-dot suit. Imean, Ireally
successors. In fact, he doesn't mind saying so. For him the future is an
maintain to this day that even the whole flowers element was remarkably
encroaching nightmare.
creative, never wacky or stupid.
"These people may have no sense of the social," he says of the '80s
We can say, 'Yes, Morrissey that silly old eccentric', but Ithink it's nicesurvivalists, "but more importantly, they also have no sense of taste.
if somebodywho is eccentric can break through. Everybody follows the
They have such bad taste in every area, and that's the main thing thatsame rules and does exactlywhat they're told. All modern groups state
worries me."the expected -fluently, but who cares."
Which all begins to make Morrissey sound like asentimental old
nostalgic. This he would deny to the death, and while it's easy to
ET'S TALK ABOUT the new LP.
sympathise with his loathing foryuppie culture and the loss of"Why, for heaven's sake?"
English gentility, he does spend an enormous amount of time looking
The Smiths' new LP begins with the title track and afewverses ofover
his shoulder.
.
Cicely Courtneidge's shambling but defiant version of "Take Me Back To
Ialways thought he was abit long in the tooth to be singing about
Dear Old Blighty" from The L-Shaped Room. The song, as it did in the film,
schooldays on "The Headmaster Ritual", and the song "Meat Is Murder"
speaks for acertain Englishness; indeed for Morrissey, apricelesshas aworryingly sixth-form quality to it as
Englishness that has vanished forever.
well. Now, on The Queen Is Dead, and having
In the original scene, Courtneidge plays ajust turned 27, he presents us with songs about
forgotten wartime performer living out her lastleaving home!
days in ashabby flat in Fulham. She revives the"Yes, yes, but..." he says in his most engaging
half-remembered singalong one Christmas,
purr, which roughly translated means 'Havesurrounded by the new cosmopolitan
an opinion, but for Oscar's sake pull yourself
Londoners. It's ascene heavywith pathos andtogether and see some sense'. "Don't you find
one that conjures up an England perhaps morethat even now certain memories of school still
gentle and certainly more simple in its charms.
cling and then suddenlyyou remember the day
Aplace that eulogised witty conversation, wellin 1963 when somebody did somethingwhollyturned letters, cornershops and theatrical hams.
)
insignificant to you?"
The Queen Is Dead isn't just astraight lament,
To be honest, Idon't; there's always more
however. It uses the Queen as adouble-edged
recent memories ready to haunt you. Didn't
metaphor for aworld we have lost and thehe realise that most people of his age had »meaningless heritage of the monarchy in 1986.

L"All moderngroups state
the expected-fluently hut.
who cares -s

HISTORY 01 ROCK 1986 I61

July5,1986: with Craig Gannon(second left)on rhythm guitar-and aschoolboy wearing ahearing aid and aback-pocket
posy helping out on vocals- The
Smiths perf orm"Panic"(inset)
on Channel 4'sEuro Tube show

been through their lads-smoking-beh ind-thebike-shed stage, the romance and marriage stage,
and were now on to the divorce and mark-two
lover stage?
"And I'm still waiting to be chosen for theswimming team!
"But Ido feel in an absolute way that I've been
sleepwalking for 26 years. On the bleak moments
when !came to consciousness Iwas reading the
New Statesman. You see, I
never did all those trivial
pursuits. I
did read all those music magazines.
"I mean, Ican rememberwhen NMEwas 12
pence!! can remember when Discwas six pence.
Ican remember when you could buy all four weekly magazines forunder 50 pence!"0

NE THING MORRISSEY has learnt to do is to feel burdenedby the pressures of success. The vehicle for his complaint is"Frankly Mr Shankly", abrilliant piece of modern music hallthat carefully offsets the poverty of the privileged with an ironicaljauntiness. It's one of the LP's landmarks and defines new ground for
The Smiths, but those lyrics? It forces the question: aren't you justmoaning about fame like they always do?
"Yes! Like they always do!" he replies with an extravagant sweep of hisarm. "Yes I'm moaning about fame," he repeats, caressing his brow withthe most melodramatic hands in the history of the stage. "I was reachingfor the rubber but I
thought, 'Well no, I
do want to complain, Ido want tomoan.' Complaining is so unmanly, which is why Ido it so well!"As the laughter trails away, he continues. "Yes... fame. fame. fatalfame
can play hideous tricks on the brain. It really is so odd, and Ithink I've said
this before-God I
suddenly sounded like Roy Hattersley- when one
reaches so painfully for something and suddenly it's flooding over one's
02 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

body, there is pain in the pleasure. Don't get me
wrong, Istill want it, and Istill need it, but...
"Even though you can receive 500 letters frompeople who will say that the record made me feelcompletely alive- suddenly doing something
remarkably simple like making acandle canseem more intriguing in aperverted sensethan writing another song. But what is anything
without pain?"In the past, much has been made of Morrissey's
stock heroes, the spectres of Wilde and Dean notjust hovering in the background but actually there,
embodied in his flamboyant and frequently selfdeprecating humour and the exquisitely tousled quiff set off against theeternal faded blue jeans. His absorption of those characters has played
tricks with both time and image, yet much of it, particularly the rugged
Dean connotations, is asmokescreen.
The lyrics of the new LP, littered as they are with notions of home andleaving home, put you in no doubt as to who Morrissey's real hero or
heroine is... his mother. But this isn't easy to talk about. Not that hedoesn't agree with my suggestion- it's just that for once this is one subject
he would prefer to avoid in print.
"Mentally, I
don't believe I've ever left home," he concedes. "You always
think that as life progresses you're going to open different doors. But theshock to me is that you actually don't... But who will accept describing
one'slife as areally bad dream, Ian? Millions of people will just because
it's never stated, it's not implausible and it's not dramatic."
For every song exploring the special pain ofloneliness on The QueenIs Dead-"Ifyou're so clever, why are you onyour own tonight?" he croons
magnificently on the chilling "I Know It's Over" -there's acomicequivalent to balance things out. It's refreshing to know that even theprince of misery likes to have agood laugh now and again.

THE SMITHS

actually appeared on his tombstone as his famous last words. Ithink that
Quite purposefully arecord of extremes,
should be an LP title... Bugger Bognor!."it jumps with wild abandon from the tragic"Cemetry Gates" doesn't just make jokes about grave humour, though.
to the humorous. The title song manages toIt's concerned with the prickly matter of plagiarisation. He says he's
combine both at the same time. Having
always been happy to admit he's borrowed afew lines or two, most of
invaded the Palace, he confronts the Queenthem from movies. ATaste OfHoney, Rebel WithoutACause and Sleuthwith arhyme more outrageous than thehave all aided the Morrissey muse.
original crime- "And so /broke into theWhat he objects to are those smug anal retentives who think they've
Palace with asponge and rusty spanizerl Sizefound you out and denounce your entire canon of work as tainted bysaid, 'Eh, Iknowyou and you cannot sing' I
theft. "Obviously most people who write do borrow from other sources,"Isaid, 'That's nothing-you should hear me
he contends. "They steal from other's clotheslines. Imentioned the line
play pianer."''I dreamt aboutyou last nightand fell out ofbed twice' in"Reel Around The
He also dares to suggest that Charles
Fountain", which comes directly from ATaste OfHoney, and to this day
might brighten all our lives with adash of
I'm whipped persistently for the use of that line.
transvestism and that the clergy have been
"I've never made any secret of the fact that at least 50 per cent of mydoing it foryears anyway, which proves thatreason forwriting can be blamed on Shelagh Delaney, who wroteA Taste
cheek isn't just the province ofjournalists
OfHoney. And 'This Night Has Opened My Eyes' is aTaste OfHoneysong
and market traders.
-putting the entire play to words. But Ihave never in my life made any
Taking on the guise of the agony aunt
secrets of my reference points.
-he worships every dribble from the lips
"Just because there's one line that's adirect lift, people will now say toof Claire Rayner and wilts with envy every
me that 'Reel Around The Fountain' is worthless, ignoring the rest of it,time she reveals another chintzy outfitwhich almost certainly comes from my brain. Oscar Wilde... I've foundhe says, "Sometimes Ithink, 'Well,so many instances where he has directly lifted from others. To me that'sMorrissey, you've got them sitting by thefine. But because I'm so serious about writing, people are so serious about
bed with their pills, you'd better dotripping me up."something quick!"Those who like to picture him as the last of
the great bedroom angst merchants might'M SURE THAT many will find the undercurrent of death anddepression on The Queen Is Dead difficult to cope with. This time
be enlightened to discover that the apogeeround, Morrissey's special brand of terminal humour may lighten
of English nudge'n'wink humour, the Carrythe load, but much of the material is gloriously doomy. What's more, it
On saga, gets his selective approval.
seems hard to square with the relatively cheerful young man Isee
"There were 27 films made in all," henotes authoritatively, "and at least six of
before me.
And when I
tell him that he certainly looks better and laughs morethem are high art. They finishedthan he used to, he shakes his head as if I
was trying to attack the wholeartistically in '68 but it went on, Ithink,foundations of his career. Ineed glasses, he splutters, Ineed to look again.
to '76 or '78. When you think of Charles"I'm not happy, I'm not," he cries. "I know alot of people at this stage will
Hawtrey, Kenneth Williams, Hattie
throw down the magazine and say, 'Well, Morrissey, this is your platform,
Jacques, Barbara Windsor, Joan Sims,
this is your proud badge that you wear, that you gladly cycle on the edge of
Sid James... the wealth of talent!
acliff and you're ready to th row your handlebars to the wind.'"They've tried to recreate those things"But almost every aspect of human life really quite seriously depresses
again in The Comic Strip orwhatever andme...I do feel that all those tags, the depressive, the monotony, all tags
those awful, offensive Nine O'Clock News
I've dodged or denied are probably absolutely accurate. When you put methings. They tried to recreate that clannishness of comedians and it
next to Five Star and judge the whole thing against the bouncingly
doesn't work. It's not just amatter of talent, or getting people together. It'smoronic attitude that is so useful if one wants ajob in the music industry,something else."then yes, lama depressive. If I
wasn't doing this Idon't honestly believe
And if you're still in doubt over Morrissey's comic sensibility, let me justthat I
would want to live. And one hesitates about making suchtell you that currently his favourite TV show is CagneyAnd Lacey. "Youstatements because, however one makes them, it never seems useful."
don't watch it? My, you're crumbling before me!"That somebody of his nature exists within the British pop industry at all
He's always complained that people have failed to notice the humour,is intriguing to say the least, but methinks heso perhaps that explains the generous helping.
does exaggerate the case. The Smiths' sheer
Much of it maybe disturbingly black, theoutput, for astart: they can release singles withgallows jests of acondemned man, but mostarapidity that seems to spray the charts like aimportantly, it works. "Cemetry Gates" delves
machine gun compared with their weary rivals;
into more mirth and morbidity.
and their music- only ahandful can make pop"It's like famous last words. So many people's
as beautiful as theirs; all argue against thelast words were so riotously memorable.
leaden weight of atrue depressive.
Howard Devoto was telling me about -we were
What Morrissey does appear to suffer from isin acemetery because we'd decided to do atour
astate of permanent adolescence. Just as heof London cemeteries, cheerful little buggers
refuses to leave the 19th century, he refuses tothat we are; you know, get the Guinness andleave home. "I know," he remarks with akind ofcheese butties out and head down to Brompton
blissful resignation. "It's anational disgrace! We
Cemetery-some old corporal dying, smotheredknow there's ashame attached to it. Ifyou're stillin blood, having avery artistic coronary arrest
living with your parents at 19 you're considered »and his right-hand man was saying, 'Don't besilly, Charles,
cheer up, cheer
up, we're going
to Bognor thisweekend.' And heturned round to
his friend andsaid, 'Bugger
The Queen Is Dead* isn't lust a straightlament however If uses the Oueen as
Bognor!', and
A Gentleman At Leisure: the NA4E enters the
double edged metaphor for aworld we have
'Bugger Bognor!'lost and the Meaningless heritage of the
HE DOOR was ajar. Why
Chelsea mews of one MORRISSEY, and what anmonarchy in 1986 its also one of the mostnot, Ithought, and walked

I"Almost every
aspect ofhuman life
quite seriously
depresses me"

SOME MOTHERS DO 'AVE 'EM

T

in. The flat appeared to bearranged on more than one
floor and finding nobody on thefirst I
climbed the stairs to theaccommodating fellow he is. How is life? One
enquires, and receives in return impudence,

exciting rock songs The Smiths have evermade. Johnny Marr's music pulling thelistener into agiddying black farce
didn't went to attack the monarchy In a
sod of beer monster way.' he explains ,n

1986
APR

some club-footed bespectacled monster ofrepressed sexuality-which is in every caseabsolutely true!"
The hysterical fit of giggl ing that follows isasight for sore eyes.
He's not been slow before to criticise Joy
Division for their supposed suicide chic, and
who would deny that group gained another vitaldimension in the aftermath of Ian Curtis' death.
Any image has its price, and The Smiths excuse
theirs through artistic integrity. But the fact
remains that some of these songs aren't far shortof aesthetic Exit manuals.
Discovering that six people "who were
alarmingly dedicated to The Smiths" have taken
their lives over the last two years suggests that this isn't simply
melodrama. "Their friends and parents wrote to me after they'd died," heexplains. "It's something that shouldn't really be as hard to speak about
as it is, because if people are basically unhappy and people basically want
to die, then theywill.
"Although it's very hard for many people to accept, Ido actually respectsuicide, because it is having control over one's life. It's the strongest
statement anyone can make, and people aren't really strong. You could
say it was negative leaving the world, but if people's lives are so enrichedin the first place then ideas of suicide would never occur. Most people, as
we know, lead desperate and hollow lives.
"I can't feel responsible... totally. Iknow that in most instances that for
the last sad period of these people's lives at least having The Smiths was
useful to them."
Had he ever considered suicide himself?
"About 183 times, yes. Ithink you reach the point where you can nolonger think of your parents and the people you'll leave behind. You gobeyond that stage and you can only think of yourself.
"It's asituation people can so easily toywith and find very romantic. All
the great pop stars which nobody ever cared about when they existedtheir deaths throw amagnificently alluring colouration on to their total
existence as human beings. Whereas if most of these people had lived,
nobody would have cared alot.
"I think suicide intrigues
everybody. And yet it's one ofthose things that nobody canever really talk about in aninterestingway. You always
have the usual 'Oh, it's sonegative, it's so wrong' attitude."
Isn't your fascination withdeath, Iargue, aconvenient
way of givi ngyour life
mean ingwhen you should
be looking elsewhere?
"No, I
don't think so. So manyof the people that! admire took
their lives... Stevie Smith,Sylvia Plath, James Dean,
Marilyn Monroe, Rachel
Roberts... there are many..."collapsing into laughter again. "You just have to
dig for them. You have to digvery deep for them.
Ido want
to write about women. The whole idea of
womanhood is something that to me is largely
unexplored. I'm realising things about womenthat !never realised before, and 'Some Girls...'is just taking it down to the basic absurdity ofrecognising the contours to one's body. The factthat I've scuttled through 26 years of life without
ever noticing that the contours of the body are
different is an outrageous farce!"
Yet there are signs that he may one day growup, though I'm certainly not implying that thisis something to be encouraged. The longest
period of celibacy outside of aBuddhist monastery has been broken. "Ilapsed slightly," he admits. "I was caught off guard, as it were. But Ireturnof course as triumphant as ever to the most implausible, unbelievable,
necessary absurd situation that could befall any intelligent person."Ever fallen in love?
"Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no... and that's about as clear as Ican be!"In an arena inhabited by the most ridiculous macho monsters, The
Smiths present an image that is absolutely non-phallic. What sexuality
the group do possess is of afar more natural kind than that presented by
the crotch-fixated bimbos of MTVworld. Not everybody can accept this.
When Smash Hits set Morrissey up with friend Peter Burns for apredictable
queen bitch stand-off, they apparentlywrote what theywanted.
"It was acompletely civil and honest interviewwith Pete and I," herecalls, "and they turned us into Hinge And Bracket. I
was supposed tohave called him Joan Collins and... it was completely laced with camp
symbolism-which never occurred. I
was really upset... they made us
look like acouple of dippy queens."I
wonder what he thought of the sexual models on offer at the moment.
Madonna, Prince, Boy George?
"Obviously Madonna reinforces everything absurd and offensive.
Desperate womanhood. Madonna is closer to organised prostitution thananything else. Imean the music industry
is obviously prostitution anyway,,
but there are degrees.
"For me Prince conveys
ISSN 0028 6362
nothing. The fact that he's
successful in America isinteresting simply because
he's mildly fey and thathasn't happened before
there. Boy George, again
Ithink he really doesn't say
anything either."In their unique position
as successful outsiders The
Smiths have escaped thekind of coverage most pop
stars have to enjoy or endurein the national press. There
have been other attempts to
dig the dirt.
The latest is abook by
Mick Middles which mixes
anecdote with the kind of
trainspotter mentality only
the most fervent fan could
lap up. For Morrissey it
proved afascinating read.
"I don't really expect his
book to be found anywhereother than the fiction
section! It was so riddledwith inaccuracies that to me
it was athrilling commodity.
Ilearnt so much. If I
have any
doubt about the future Ineed
only glance at this book toknowwhat to do, so in thatsense Mick Muddled has"Madonna
reinforces
everthingabsurd andoffensive"0

NE NEW SONG, thedelicious "Some GirlsAre Bigger Than
Others", must be the mostevocative verse about nothing
ever written. For some reason
all kinds of permutations go
through your mind when it's
playing, ahilarious send-up ofPage Three among others, andone can't help be remindedthat Morrissey doesn't write
songs about women -unlessthey happen to be his mother.
"Well, there are songs about
women," he claims before

64 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

been of religious assistance in more
ways than one. Ihad no idea, forinstance, that at one point I
wasgoing to manage Theatre Of Hate.
I
don't even knowwho Theatre Of
Hate are. So to me it was anilluminating collection of gossip."

October 24.1986:
The Smithsat
Brixton Academy
in South London

world in its twilight hours isborne out by aconstant theme thatmight be summed up as aplea forcare and compassion. With this inmind, and allowing for the fact thatthey embody the sensibilities of avast section of young people acrossthe world, it seems amazing they
weren't asked to take part in Band
Aid. Or does it?
According to Morrissey, "nobody
younger than Bob Geldof wasallowed near that stage, because
otherwise The Boomtown Rats
would have seemed like acollectionof Brontasaurasi. And nobodywho
had not sold amillion was allowed
near the stage. Have The Boomtown
Rats sold amillion? Remarkablegroup if they have!"
Not even the broadening out of
the appeal to include the likes ofFashion Aid and Sports Aid has done
anything to change his original
attitude of scorn. We've been blindedby the money raised, he argues,
fooled by ashowbiz sham.
"If it had dealt with adomestic issue
Idon't believe it would have received
any attention whatsoever. I'm surethe organisers would havebeen kicked to death. If we talkabout unemployment inEngland, we're slapped acrossthe face. Ithink there wassomething almost glamorous
about the whole Ethiopian
epic. In the first instance it
was far away, overseas. Popstars, film stars, it was andstill is escapism.
"The glamourveils amore
serious question -knowing theworld is controlled, why aresuch things allowed to happen.
But I'm also appalled that theguilt of such an occurrence
should be placed upon the shoulders of the British public. It's absurd.
How many people in England live below the poverty line?
"I got afoul scent when it first occurred, and I
still get the same smell.
Its an inch away from Hollywood. When will the film appear? The solo LP
is on the horizon, the book is here. It's bully tactics and dining out withroyalty. It's not shaking Margaret Thatcher by the lapels when he had thechance. No... and hearing Bob talk so lovingly about Prince Charles!Tome it's so unreal. Inever mentioned the word greed!"
The Smiths did, however, play the last date of the Red Wedge tour, but
not without reservations.
"Without wishing to sound pugnaciously poncified, I
wasn't terribly
impassioned by the gesture," he says with asmile. "I thought the overall
presentation was pretty middle-aged. And Ican't really see anything
especially useful in Neil Kinnock. Idon't feel any alliance with him, but if
one must vote, this is where I
feel the blackX should go. So that was why
we made avery brief, but stormy, appearance.

THE

SAW

"When we took to the stage, the audience reeled back in horror. They
took their Walkmans off and threw down their cardigans. Suddenly theplace was alight, aflame with passion!"
Together we talk about the future, the dreaded beast of Morrissey's
worst dreams. We both agree Margaret Thatcher will probably kill us all.
Rough Trade won't be insisting on any more videos and The Smiths
won't be making them. Andy Rourke has rejoined the group. Craig
Gannon is the new fifth member, but they aren't turning into the Rolling
Stones, just playing with them; Johnny Man is working on two offshootprojects, one with Keith Richards and the otherwith Bryan Ferry. There's
aBritish and American tour to come and anew single, "Panic".
You could almost say everything looks rosy. His head tilted to one side,
enjoying the comfort of afavourite armchair, Morrissey is relaxed. The
world's favourite misery goat seems radiant for aman in torment. He'sleft school, left home (almost)... What next, arelationship, I
suggest as
aparting thought?
"I wanted to say this to you," he says slowly in atone of confidentiality.
"I always thought my genitals were the result of some crude practicaljoke. Iremember an NMEinterview in the very early 1970s- it was Gary
Glitter. It concluded with the remark'the constant reminder that there's
something between his legs'. And Ithought it might be quite fitting to end
this with.., the constant reminder that there's absolutely nothing
between his legs!"
I'm sure you're disappointing millions!
"Ian... Idoubt it... which is very disappointing to me." Ian P.
ve •HISTORY OF ROCK 1985 I65

PETER STILL /GETTY

r HAT THE SMITHS wish toi-i do more than serenade the

1986
APR

'A realist
and afatalist"„A

After the Wham! split,
GEORGE MICHAEL shows
himself to be every inch
the concerned pop star.
Anti-apartheid, antiTory, and with asolo
career underway that
only atabloid might
knock off course. "A gay
story," he thinks, "orapregnant girl."

REX/SHUTTERSTOCK-NP "JUNE 28 -66 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

LTHOUGH IAM honest, Iwill
deal with an interviewwith
the confidence of George
Michael, Pop Star. And theway Ideal with people day to
day is constantly fighting to
put people at their ease. Half the people Imeet
probably go away thinking, 'What acrawler!' You
have to constantly play down to be accepted as
normal; you're on tip-toes in case people think
you're walking all over them."
Rarely have Ifelt less walked over than by George
Michael, Pop Star. Whyshould Ifeelwalked over? All
he has over me is aclean driving licence, amarginallymore melodious singing voice and an annual income
approximately200 times my own. Mere trifles, really.
In addition to this, Ihave finallygot over thatcrippling rockist disease which brings one out in aparoxysm of spluttering outrage at the mere thoughtthat Wham!are Number One (well, Two actually) and
Hüsker Dü aren't.
Not long ago Ideliriously imagined the
Whammyspandyduranniefrankie Club bestrode theworld like acolostomy bag, of which George'n'Andywere the biggest bowelquake; the brownest, theshiniest, the most stinking rich. They'd corrupted the
kids!They'd dazzled them with trinkets and highlights
and cheesy grins and so turned their heads from theserious business of burning down the House Of
Commons!Theywere in leaguewith Mrs Thatcher!
In short, Wham! and their lackey-stooge ilkwere asign of the times rather than ahead of them, as Ifondly
believed their pop precursors to be. Buya Beatles
record and change your life; buy aWham! record and »"You have to becareful with the
public".George
Michaelonstage

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

67

MICHAEL PUTLAND I GEM

watch your interest grow. But times have changed and pop is not what it
quoted already; violence is something else. He was appalled to catch
was. The mass pop community based on hopeless romanticism has gone,arecent edition of awell-known children's teatime programme which
to be replaced by career-pop, pop as commod ity with an attendant set offeatured aclip from another show "that to me was quite distasteful- warcommodityvalues. Our mass media is pop-saturated; it's now abuyer's
game stuff. People being killed on Blue Peter!
market. All the mystique of the hard-to-get, the forbidden, the rebellious,"I think it's quite simple. I
was brought up when media still kept totallyhas been allayed by surfeit of choice. Pop's no big deal any more.
away from violence when it came to children. Idon't think it would have
And so it is that George Michael, Pop Careerist sits chatting amiably
made me scared of violence, but Ifind it repulsive. But ifl was that same
beside me on alarge grey sofa in achic grey suite in avery expensive
child now, Iprobably wouldn't find it half as bad -I would expect to see it.
London hotel, bolthole of visiting foreign film stars and the like. When weIsound like fucking Mary Whitehouse here, but these are basic things,
shake hands in the lobby and ride up in the lift, his eyes hardly meet mine.
genuinely strong influences on people's lives."
But nowwe're all cosy, me with my beer, he with his can of Coke he makes
George also objects to how Dirty Den on EastEnders (broadcast on
last over two hours, and the only hint of unease is his thumb tightly
Sunday afternoons) deals in stolen goods and gets away with it, thereby
enclosed in his fist- aclassic sign of insecurity.
legitimising theft to kids.
George Michael, Success Storytalks about himselfwith the guiltless"I remember when I
was about nine years old I
stole things, and whenrelaxation of aman who's made it big and can handle it. ARolls wasI
got caught I
got areally bad hiding, but I
was also humiliated. To me itparked in the Michael driveway long before George sang anote,
was something bad. And through those years when Inormallywould
according to an inside source, so money's no shock to his system. And
have stolen had Inot been caught, Iremembered that humiliation, and it
above all, he has the self-confidence of popular success which
probably stopped me fucking up somewhere along the line.
encourages him to think he knows just what people do- and don't-want.
"But what Ireally can't believe is that violence has managed to come on"I know that I
sound self-satisfied and Iknow that I've got an ego," heso far, yet sex is basically as it was. Let's be honest, kids don't see enoughsays, "but Idon't have an ego problem."about sex. Kids are ignorant and neurotic about sex, and it has stayed off
As for George's favourite word, his most commonly recurring
the television screen much more than it should.
conversational tic- it's "basically". He's got an awful lot to say, which he"Kids should be allowed to see much more sex in terms of caring andwants to boil down to basics. Here goes...
love, as opposed to porno. If aggression is in achild's nature, it's likelyto"Basically, the wholeAmerican ideal of the possibility of becoming
turn to violence as an OK thing. It is legitimised by the amount of coverage.
middle-class, the idea of aspiration, was something that was going toViolence is not something that is incredibly natural to people, but sex is. It
happen. The idea of the '80s being sex and suntans, and us being theshould be seen as something alot more natural than violence."
epitome of it, is perfectly true. We're up there, supposedly promoting it,
George Michael ate my hamster
but it's there anyway.
"Kids have now decided that when they're 13 and 14 they don't want to be
RUMOUR HAS IT that the News Of The World has aGeorge Michael
teenagers, they don't want the next seven years to be atime when they goscandal story that they're not going to run until his crown starts to slip.
out and experiment and totally disassociate themselves with childhood"People do keep telling me there's astory, but Ican't think what it would
and adulthood, which is basicallywhat I
grew up with. I
did the soulboy bit
be. The News Of The World's angle would have to be, if it's big enough thatand went through amod period as well: Ididn't want to look likemy parents or the way I'd looked acouple of years before.
"But kids nowwant designer clothes when they're 13, they want
to look like the young mums and dads they see on the telly. That
idea of looking middle-class even though your earnings areworking-class has happened, and to blame pop for it is reallystupid. Idon't think pop could have helped being affected by it,
which it was, and Idon't think pop could have stopped it. When it
happened, it happened to society, and society picked up on bands
it wanted to reflect that idea.
"Glamour is seen in this country as America. We just picked up
on the normal traits of stardom, and as my musical angle has
always had an American side, the two things fitted. Englandsuddenly became like Miami Vice in the rain, and that combinedwith the quality of what we were doing. It all fitted together very
nicely, though Ididn't plan it that way."
George changes gear to avoid the elephant trap of modish
generalisation that the champagne sociologists of the glossy
magazines habitually fall into.
"You've always got to rememberyou're talking from aLondon
and south-east point of view. The north doesn't look like this. Mostof them don't have the time or money to even pretend. But, for mostteenagers, London has not become apoor place to live. London has
benefited from the whole right-wing idea. I
don't honestly thinkthat the people that are goingto these wine bars and souping up
Escorts feel that things are getting worse. They're not the people on
the dole; they're the people that have got afewbob to fritter away.
"I used to believe that people were taking on these Americanisms
as aform of escape from what was reallygoing on. I
don't think thatapplies anymore. I
don't think that those people have got thethings to escape from, they're not the people face to face with thereal problems. Those people haven't got time for all this crap.
"But it's hard to tell, you know, because I'm not in contact with
it anymore, not even vaguely. Iused to be in contact with
unemployment and the waypeople thought about their
June 26,1986:
surroundings. But it's very hard for me to sit here and judge that
George Michaeland
Andrew Ridgeley of
now; Ican only guess."
Wham!backstage
George believes "pop has stayed in the realms of fantasyland",at their Wembley
reflecting its fans and not guiding them. Television, on the other
Stadium farewellconcert, The Finalhand, actively promotes role models. Americanism George has

68 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

GEORGE MICHAEL"So I'm quite sure that if Itried to say, 'Pull yourthey're waiting, some kind of gay story. Either that orrecords out of South Africa', half wouldn't beapregnant girl. It's unnerving to think that they'rebothered and half wouldn't want to give up the
onlywaiting because they think the public likes me
A DIFFERENT CORNER
money. I'm resigned to the way people in the musicenough at the moment. Hopefully they've got along
business think.
wait, and even then I'll sue the arse off them, ha ha!""I honestly do believe that total sanctions is theBut can Fleet Street really damage apop star's
only way. But I
border between arealist and astanding in the public favour?
fatalist. Ihonestly don't think there's anyway"It can accelerate it terribly. With Boy George they
Britain will pull out of South Africa, because the public don't care enoughaccelerated it. If you're being cheekywith the public and playingwith
to put pressure on the government to do anything about it.
their affections, and the press jumps on you at the same time, you're"I suppose it's fatalist to adegree, but there are lots of good causes thatbeyond the point of no return. George is going to have to work fucking
might have succeeded in the late '60s, early '70s that won't succeed today
hard to get people back, you know.
because, basically, if you don't believe your generation is going to support"If aperson respects the fact that the public has put them where they
you or the public is going to take any interest...
are, and if they don't realise the public have always got that in mind-you"Things like Red Wedge are anonstarter. I
believe in idealism, but it
owe something to the public-you start mucking around with the reasons
has to be balanced with accepting human nature. You have to see theforyour success. That's not to sayyou need to pander to the public. All you
compromises people are and are not prepared to make, and the timeneed to do is give them quality and don't offend them. If you feel badwhen people are prepared to give.
about the way the public is treatingyou, just shut up about it- they don't"PaulWeller seems to believe that there are over three million left-wingcare about the way you feel.
unemployed. They're pissed off with the government, sure, but they're"You have to be careful with the public the wayyou have to be careful
just as affected by the things going on around them as the people with
with someone who's had afew drinks, d'you know what Imean? You bemoney; they want more for themselves. And if they get the money, they're
nice to them and they'll be wonderful, you can have agood laugh withLA.

them. But if you annoy them, then you're going to get the worst side!"

Why Wham! split
ARTISTIC REASONS, HE says, and Ibelieve him. He's mastered the craftof pop and now wants to give of himself, put alittle honest emotion into
his records that people can relate to personally. Wham! were about
generational anthems, uplift and youth. George Michael will be singing
to us one-to-one, and he can't do that if there's two.
But his reasons for splitting Wham! have been clouded by aslur thrownby his former management on his relationship with Andrew Ridgeley.
This, briefly, is what happened.
Last November, George and Andrewtold Simon Napier-Bell and Jazz
Summers of Nomis Management that Wham! 's career would end thissummer with afarewell Wembley concert, which decision would be
publicly announced close to the time. Meanwhile, Napier-Bell andSummers were fixing adeal whereby the Kunick Leisure group would buy
Nomis for £5 million. Kunick, however, are onethird owned by the company that also owns Sun
City, the notorious Afrikaaner resort located in
the black "homeland" of Bophuthatswana.
George discovered the connection by reading
Hollywood ReporterandVariety, so theprotestations of Napier-Bell and Summers fell
flat-"You don't make a£5 million deal and notlook at your shareholders, OK?"
So George quit his contract with Nomis andissued apress statement saying so, without
mentioning either the SouthAfrica connectionor the Wham! split. Bad move. Fleet Street
immediately got on the blower to Napier-Bell,who trumped the storywith afar bigger one:
George and Andrew had had aterrible row, andWham!were splitting...
"Simon keeps reiterating this point about me looking for an excuse to
get rid ofAndrew. He keeps rubbishing our relationship. I'm not going tolet Simon do that- he's always thrown such acynical angle on everything
he's been involved in. It makes it all look such asham. If we weren't friends
in the first place we wouldn't have stayed together this long. But if
people's last memory of us is as two businessmen..."Could you stop CBS sellingyour records in South Africa?
"Basically, Idon't think there's anything Ican do. Icertainly wouldn't
miss the money, but I'm not sure it would happen- how would you know?
You just don't get royalty statements from South Africa, but you're notgoing to be able to stop CBS sending the parts or selling it there- there's nowayyou can check these things. Idon't believe in empty gestures."
Could not an artist ofyour clout persuade other artists to join aboycottof the SouthAfrican market?
"You're absolutely right, but I've never been able to do it. When we gave
our royalties to Ethiopia last Christmas, I
did it well upfront so maybe
some of the other acts that had been on BandAid might feel somepressure to do the same thing. No one did anything of the kind.

certainly not going to start spreading it about!
"I honestly think that Weller's not very bright, and obviously he thinksthat I'm not very bright-he also thinks I'm atotal mercenary. Iwas trying
to argue with him on certain points, trying to introduce some idea of thelimitations of his ideas when you bring human nature into it, and hewasn't accepting anything. And I
was thinking, 'I f
this man is leading thisparty in apublic sense, then what chance do they stand?'"Dogma I've always hated, and right now that kind of dogmatic
approach is totally damaging. All they did was cancel out any hope of any
kind of social element that came into pop during '85 because of the wholecharity thing.Any idea of working towards goals, Ithink that they've
wiped it out again.
"The minute! saw the people involved, the same names, the samefaces... Imean, they asked me to be on the remake of 'Free Nelson
Mandela' -what the fuck is the point of remaking the thing, for Christ's
sake? If you want to bring it to people's attention, why don't you look atwhat happened the last time and see how
ineffective it was, OK?
"They should try adifferent approach, try
getting new artists, not just plugging the old
Red Wedge corner. I
mean, remaking thesame fucking song-how short-sighted can
you be?"The man with his finger on the popularpulse sighs at the communications gap
between the consumerised crowd and its
pie-in-the-sky saviours.
"It's conceit, but! think! can see society better
than alot of those people can. Maybe it's people
like me who should be doing something about
it. But the people who can see what's going on,
who look at society in avery wide sense, thinkthat the world is so fucked anyway, and that people are too apathetic to
do anything about it. You look at the acceleration of all the negatives
compared to the positives, and you just have to say it's all going to finish.
We have to be drawing ourselves to the end of our natu ra I
lifespan,because we're fucking everything up..."
You mean mankind's story has abig exclamation mark at the end?
"Oh yeah. Ihave no belief in the Bible or religion, but Ithink
Armageddon was alucky guess. Ihonestly think it's going to happen..."WHAM!
We'll meet again, don't knowwhere, don't knowwhen...

"Englandsuddenlybecame like
Miami Vice inthe rain"

Epilogue"I THINK EVENTUALLY I'll look back and say that these were probably

the most exciting two years I've ever had. But to go on like this would drive
me absolutely crazy. I'm getting older, you know, so I've got to replace itwith something more valid to the way Ifeel.
"Having said that, I
wouldn't take back any of the last two years. Apartfrom some of the videos and haircuts,! don't think I've made anywrong
moves, ha ha!" MatSnow •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I69

Prince brings the
Parade Tour toWembley Arena,
August12-14,198.5—

IAlt PI
N , III\
II
NI I

-

REVIEW

ALBUMS
Princeanything, is more
illicit, more abandoned
to delight.
"Kiss", of course, isperfection -Bo Diddley,
Curtis Mayfield, Marc
Bolan and Jayne
Mansfield licking off
their fingers aftersomething good anddirty. "Do ULie" isdelightfully daft cosmic
vaudeville, wigged andpowdered and rustlingin velvets.
And then there's the
finale, this LP's "Purple
Rain", "Sometimes It
Snows In April", anacrobatic ballad that
employs the simple
sentimentality ofcountry music toexpress deep loss
so poetically, so
personally -it's indecent
when his vocal spirals
into luscious grief,celebrating the sadness
to the very last sob.
I've heard tell that,while I've been
under this spell,lesser mortals
ALBUMS
have been
saying dullthings about
revivalism and1986 —
Beatles fetish.
Such cold fish
don't deserve theprivilege of your time,
because when all's said anddone, when you're panting on thepillow, when the incense has
cleared and you're catching yourfirst sweet breath from thisglorious vertigo, you'll realise
Parade eclipses everythingelse you've heard this year.
Seriously, godlike.
stevesuthedand. 1,1M Apr i2

PAISLEY PARK

They used to say the genius of
Hendrix was that his guitar acted
as an extension of his total being,that he agonised and fantasised
through that axe. Well, the same
applies to Prince -everything
he treats has aMidas touch, alitmus feel for the most effective
groove, an intuitive thrust at
the erogenous zones where
the physical and spiritual collide
in orgasm.
"No one plays the clarinet
the way you play my heart,"
swoons the precocious one
over abeauteous, humping beatand the equation between musicand emotion is sealed with a"Kiss". This LP, ladies andgentlemen, is alive.
I
believe Prince is currently
pop's greatest operator, awizard,
atrue star. He's calculating andinnocent -one eye tearful, coy,expressing hurt ;the othercocked, laughing, coquettish,
showing off.
And, of course, sex is his sacredplaything. He's Freudian beyond
fault and fabrication and there's
ashocking intelligence working
us up into alather inside thesesongs -hand-jobs, yet the pureeffusions of aman-child wide-

eyed and naked—with wonder.
They're amoral in thatlust and love, pleasure andpain, are indistinguishable;
immoral in that he's aware of
the dandy outrage of it all; andboldly hedonistic in that Prince
advocates all experienceenriches life. As he screams inecstasy here: "I want to live life
to the ultimate high." So Paradeis asoft-porn paradise, asensualsacrament, supposedly thesoundtrack to our doe-eyedhero's next exhibition of
narcissism on film.
The first side's well weird,
nursery-rhyme songs subjected
to sensory overload. Prince
luxuriates in submitting himself
to his senses, whether he's
evoking Sgt Pepper in thesymphonic collage of"Christopher Tracy's Parade",trying on machismo in the cocky"New Position", crooning likeacamp Valentino in
the gorgeously
melodramatic
Under The Cherry
Moon or turning
tricks through thepsychedelic funkcircus riot of "LifeCan Be So Nice".
And Side Two, if

70 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

Dwight Yoakam
REPRISE

If it's careening kick-start
country you need, awhisky-wisedistillation of old forms, comeround here. Boisterous fiddle,
the pound and pounce of sixstring bass, golden-veined spiralof pedal steel, joyous twang of
Telecaster, screwback heart sob
and curlicue cries from the manat the mic. Even the best of the
new breed are too high, clear andpure to garner this much bawdy
dirt and wild life in their stride.
But Yoakam, aKentuckyianbased in Los Angeles, is morethan aretrograde throwback. He
uses his revibe of Nashville's preantiseptic studio-bound sound insongs which are among thesmartest and most poignant tobe added to the genre in along
while. Others go in for puny
pastiche or ironic distance, but
Yoakam takes on the legacy of
the roughshod, fated, barroom
troubadour unselfconsciously
and with total conviction.
It's one of my pet theories thatthe country music of the '4osand '5os was forged against a
backdrop of great change andupheaval when many wereunable to reconcile their pastwith the confusion of the future-hence the melancholy, thequest for ethereal uplift, liquor
anaesthetic, solace sought indrifting and party hoedowns.
Yoakam's songs are crafted
and tuned to that spirit -his
"It Won't Hurt" is the best
recreation of asorrowing
boozer's woman trouble since
Merle Haggard's "Swinging
Doors". "South Of Cincinatti" ismy favourite, atale of love lost
between acold, grey Chicago
apartment where "a cigarettedrowns in aglass of gin" and thesouthside of Cincinatti, where"the dogwood trees grow".
Both "Miner's Prayer" and"Bury Me" delve deeper into
the land and age-old mysteries.
Here Yoakam uses the haunted,
God-fearing gospel of The
Stanley Brothers to carve a
dedication to his grandfather(a miner for 40 years) on theformer and writes everyman's
epitaph on the latter, where heduets with Maria McKee.
Most satisfying, these songs
when played back to back withhis covers of "Ring Of Fire" and"Heartaches By The Number",sound just as timeless andirrefutable, like they've always
been there, waiting to bediscovered. Proof, if more isneeded, of Yoakam's craft,mastery and future potential.
Gavin Martin, NME Apr 26

Sting
A&M

Renewedenthusiasm
may have been
the spur for
Sting's world
tour andmating with
\

7

I/

Gavin Martin, NME Jun 28

SINGLESThe Mission

I

CHAPTER 22

I

Born from the jetsamof The Sisters Of
Mercy, The Mission's
signature is all too
familiar -aspider'sscrawl on thetabernacle wall. Cosy
guitar arpeggios coilaround Wayne
Hussey's low-slung drone, until suddenly
the darkness shatters and the spectre ofAndrew Eldritch's shades rises out of theblack. The ghost smiles, shakes his headand slopes off into oblivion muttering,"The horror...the horror." r4Nmay24ebe, and that, forbetter or for worse,is the usual Queenll7e
identikit hit with all of
its attendant rabblerousing flamboyanceand melodrama. They're
gonna love it on theterraces. flfl Junl4

furniture

Felt

CREATION

Lawrence of Felt is supposed to be some
sort of reluctant cult hero and frustrated
star. This is clearly an unsatisfactory state ofaffairs: by all rights, "Ballad Of The Band"should be Top Three, and Lawrence should
be an ex-cult hero and ascending star. Fresh
and jangly and lively and up, up, up, thisexhilarating breath of pop will lift yourspirits as surely as asunny day. I
like toimagine that if ayoung Bob Dylan had
written "New Morning" in 1986, it might
have come out sounding something likethis. Alarmingly, the press release explainsthat we have here "the saddest song you'll
ever hear", which might well prove to be
the case if it were possible to decipher the
lyrics. Since it's not, just file under Jfor joy,and jump. 1'1M _tin
1
14

Queen
EMI

Friends will befriends, and therecord itself is like oneof them. You shakehands and you know
straight away it's got
nothing up its sleeve.
It is what it appears to

Talk Talk
PARI OPI-IONF

Secretly, I've spent manyaquiet hour with the ravishing Talk Talk
album, one of those really great records
that sneaks up on you unawares to become
afamily favourite. This band are so cleverand so understated, full and rich, with atextural style that is never loud or jarring
but relies on intricacy and sensuality toconvey its delicate flavour. It's my humble
opinion that Talk Talk are apocket ofunsung genius in this often-uninspired
realm of pop. Let the single swirl around you
as ataster of their infinite variety. Hfrimay/o

Sam Cooke
RCA VICTOR

Words are not enough... sublime. MM May to

Furniture

STIFF

This one is fascinating, keeps drawing you
back to play it and has the same individualinterest that the recent It's Immaterial
single displayed so well. You don't have toconform with pop formulae to get into thecharts, and I'm hoping this'll be the next
outsider to join the ranks of the young,beautiful and famous.
Quite simply, this is perfect pop musicwith one fabulous hookline ("You mustbe outof your brilliant mind")and asupporting castof strings, sax andswirling effects thattouch the response
nerve in all the rightplaces. I
hope it's ahuge
hit. MN May to
HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I71

ILlO MUST() /RE X

pedigree jazzers last year, but the release ofthis live double album and accompanying filmsuggests willingness to milk the venture for all
it's worth.
Aconundrum in many ways, Sting is the
lovelorn pin-up with aheart of steel ("Every
Breath You Take" was Buddy Holly mademalevolent, and as good as anything thedecade has had to offer) evolving into a
new-age egalitarian; he's ahumanitarian who
parties with arms dealers, asmall-"s" socialist
managed by big-"C" creep Miles Copeland, asupposed intellect who bleats, incredulously,"! hope the Russians love their children too".
Perhaps the new-style Sting, as presented inthese reworkings of lesser-known Police sides
and the pious, social conscience songs fromDream Of The Blue Turtles, is hoping to widen
his listener's expectations, maybe evenchallenge old beliefs and allegiances, but
it's hard to see where. Bring On The Night has
apropriety and uniform correctness of soundand attitude that forgoes any sense ofchallenge or risk-taking.
All the big issues -from post-holocaust
paranoia (title track), to world poverty("Driven To Tears"), to Soho skag shooting
as the present-day instalment of history's
wastelands of youth ("Children's Crusade")-are tackled here. Sting pins the songs onrighteousness, but he's too wistful andidealistic to extrapolate the anger andurgency of his emotional responses.
The group seem similarly locked in thegroove of cliche and platitudes, many of thesongs are simply played out far too long andthe hot-air finales suggest that the format is
too ambitious or at least ill-fitting for them.
Certainly, "Tea In The Sahara" offSynchronicity is needlessly embellished,"Demolition Man" delivered as afit of minorpique almost cracks under the strain, while thesegue of "One World"/"Seventh Wave" would
be acrass eulogy to mankind's togetherness(more amnesia than Amnesty International)
no matter how short or who played it.
Iprefer him when he's unwinding anerotic, enchanted fantasy like "Moon Over
Bourbon Street" than trying to target the
big imponderable problems, setting off
through amaze of media, literary and Sundaysupplement knowledge to define asoul music
for the upwardly mobile Hampstead man.
The latter may be uplifting for his own
awareness and personal development,
but it makes apiss-poor spectator sport.

The Mission:(l-r)
Simon Hinkler,
Craig Adams,
Mick Brown andWayne Hussey

THE HISTORY OF

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(Lines are open Monday to Saturday, 8am-6pm, UK time)Readers' letters

MM/NME JAN-JUN
Simply uncred

Regarding Mick Hucknall of
Simply Red undergoing the MM
psycho surgery, could! suggestthat any surgery carried out on
this dickhead be by the removal of
his head from up his bum. Just likedear Mick doesn't give ashit aboutJohn Peel and his radio show thesedays, I
would think that anyone
with even the slightest bit of taste
in music doesn't give two shits
about his wanky little band or, forthat matter, his opinions.
Whether he likes it or not, Peelis still the only real outlet for the
many young and enthusiastic
bands that are often to be found ineach and every town churning out
some fine sounds that are as vitalas punkwas adecade ago. I
justfind it apity that such "grown-up"
groups as Simply Red occupy the
daytime airwaves and preventthese bands from getter the
airplay they so obviously deserve.
STEWART, Paisley, Scotland(mm Apr 5)

Wedge of darkness

Red Wedge- so that's what it's
called these days when the young
lions set out to change the world.
The return of the angry young
man? Jimmy Porter and Arthur
Seaton live on in Paul Weller andChris Dean. Phil Ochs didn't die,he had aface-job and changed his
name to Billy Bragg.
The MM ran articles like yourWedge piece in the early '70s.
Theywere called "Politics And
Rock" and were chaired by
Richard Williams. Trouble is,songs about power and politics
are meaningless. People are not
I moved by protest but by little'things they can understand. That's
what the best songs are aboutfeeling alone in acrowd, things
that most people feel. OLIVERTEMPRELL, Mansfield (MM Feb 15)

Knight errant

The real reason why Mr Bob
Geldof got nothing in the New
Year's Honours has less to do withhis birthplace and more to dowith the fact that he tackled Mrs
Thatcher last year about her
butchery of the Overseas Aidbudget. The youth of Britain can
now see clearly that, far fromsupporting Live Aid, Mrs Thatcher
and her cabinet are actively
against social aid both at home
and abroad. This, coupled with theridiculed, SSS slated, Femmes violent.,

government's refusal to introduce
policies that would reduce
unemployment, will rebound on
the Tories, come the next generalelection -with or without tax cuts.
Michael Morrissey, London NWI(NME Jan 18)

and the rest of the Sputniks. We'rewith you all the way. 'Nuff said.
THE SPARE ORGY TWOSOME,
Walsall (MM March i)

Review from the bar

Did Ted Mico write his Violent
Femmes live review before hewent to see the band, or indeed
was he even there at all?Theirshow at the Mean Fiddlerwas
avibrant ecstasybut this isan experience Mico is quitepossibly unable to appreciate.
[Careful-Ed.]
The Violent Femmes hypnotised
the crowd with nearly three hours
of non-stop excitement. If that is
not value for money, then Idon't
knowwhat is. Ask anyone except
Ted Mico who went to the Violent
Femmes and they will tell you- it
was atruly religious experience.
Re: The future of rock'n'roll.
CALEEN MAINSTONE, Bristol
How can someone whose only
Sternly resisting the temptations
credentials are that he once
spillingout oflines such as "vibrantplayed bass with adodgy new
ecstasy"and Mico's supposed
wave band back in good ol"76 now
ignorance on how to get drunk
expect us to believe in his press
without alcohol, methinks you
release? (Which, by the way, bothshould read said review all over
you and Sounds printed word foragain, perhaps aboutfive times,
word masquerading as articles on
and then you mightjust perhaps
Sigue Sigue Sputnik.)I see the light. (ININMar29)
The 10-year cycle of youth
culture/music rebellion is
unfortunately going to be proved
Why is it that the majority ofafallacy this time round, simply
letters are becoming increasingly
because the fans, musicians,
concerned with political issues?
industry and press have been
Does this mean that the only
anticipating it since the demise ofletters worth printing are political?
the Pistols. None of the above
Does it mean that the only letterswould recognise it if it pissed in
you receive are political?
their collective faces.
wish to know, from amusic
The onlyhope is that somewhere I I
paper, what its readers' views are
far away from all this bullshit,on the musical issues you deal
someone is waiting to give thewith. Ifyou write apolitical article,
industry akick up the arse. It won't
then it is understandable thatbe Sigue Sigue Sputnik; thethere will be aresponse to this.
revolution, as always, will not be
More often than not, though,televised. More's the pity.
political letters do not reply to"Young" TonyJames has
anything and are merely theattacked everything except people
airings of peoples' views, which isover 30 (if it's too loud, you're toofair enough until it interferes withold, etc). Could it be that Mr Jamesthe music. Iknow the majority ofhimself is 33? Blimey, he's thethe NME's content concerns musicsame age as Jimmy Thunders!
and that means afair proportion
I
rest my case. If you dress shit up,of politics deserves to be printed.
it still smells awful- ask Marilyn.
You have one page in 56 that
What did we do before nostalgia?
deals with access -the views of\
Ve made fucking good music!
minorities and feedback fromDON CONK A, Biddy Mulligans,your readers. If your letters
Kilburn (MM Feb15)
deal with politics, then afair
representation of your audience's
HURRAH! Hip!Hip! Cue thetastes is not accounted for. Surely
fanfare of trumpets. At lastthis is not the only concern ofsomebody has the nerve to
your readers? RUSSELL PARKER,
single-handedly save the face ofKenilworth, Warks (NME Jun 21)
rock'n'roll. Well done, Tony James

Sputnik mission

New Musical Express

concerts
BLACK BRITAIN
IdAY Mtn BIRMINGHAM ODEON▪

cco cox. J

RADIO

BRILLIANT

✓[yes

010 1

THE CURE

P 4it

BOYS DON'T CRY

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I73

6

RUN DEIC SI400 !TOUT WITH STUART COSGROVE

Jay -selkBER
THE HOUSEMARTINS,MILES DAVIS, THE FALL,
THE CURE AND MORE

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The Jesus And Mary
Chain:(I-r) Douglas
Hart, William Reidand Jim Reid

74 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986••

JAMO backwith "Candy"
NME JULY 6 es,develo
Is inMary Chain camp.

TH

EJESUS AND Mary Chain returnfrom voluntary exile this month torelease their first single of 1986. "SomeCandy Talking" appears on the Blanco Y
Negro label on July 14. The seven-inch
version has two tracks on the B-side "Hit" and "Psycho Candy" -while the12in has all these songs plus anew
acoustic version of"Taste Of Cindy". The
12in version of "Psycho Candy" also has
adifferent lead vocal, by William insteadof Jim Reid. Just to complicate matters,
there's also adouble-pack containing
the regular seven-inch, plus abonus
single of four acoustic tracks from aJohn
Peel session last November.

NME SEPTEMBER 13

Ti

I
EJESUS AND Mary Chain haveparted company with their mentor
and manager Alan McGee. McGee,
the founder of Creation Records,"discovered" the Mary Chain in mid-1984
while running aLondon club, The Living
Room. While no one else seemed
impressed with the group's first drunken
performances, McGee instantly
proclaimed them "classic" and has
propelled them to their present status asmajor-label cult heroes around the world.
Last weekend, McGee confirmed that
he was no longer their manager, but herefused to comment further.
The Mary Chain are believed to
be spending the rest of the year
writing and recording, with
asecond LP due in February.
Some sources say that the groupwere unhappy that Creationcommitments kept McGee toobusy to also manage them fully.

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

41111.•-•1986 -7.
'MU —SEMMBER

Queen'sFreddie
Mercury:
Knebworth will
befinaldateof
TheMagicTour•

ntalentedtom,
boys. A rum lot

December 2,1976:
Today presenter Bill
Grundy leaving theThames Television
offices after ameetingwith management
about the Sex Pistols'
appearance on theprevious nig ht's show

NME
Where's Bill Grundy now?
Compering apunk night, obviously...

DAVID ASHDOWN /GETTY, ANWAR HUSSEIN /GETTYAQUESTION THAT HAS fascinatedpost-punk minds for close on lo
years and even inspired aclassic
punk single -"Where's Bill Grundy Now?" bythe Television Personalities -will receive a
fittingly forthright answer on Saturday
afternoon at the Factory Records-promoted
Festival Of The Tenth Summer in Manchester.
As amighty array of northern lights
assemble on stage at the Greater Manchester
Exhibition Centre -to celebrate the lothanniversary of an epochal Sex Pistols concert
at the Free Trade Hall -punk's favourite
bogeyman will also make one of the mostunusual public appearance of his career.
As event compere, Grundy -ini976 the hostof Thames Television's primetime chat show
Today on the fateful evening when the Sex
Pistols irrevocably entered anation's
consciousness -is hoping to use the festival
to put his perspective on one of the mostinfamous pieces of televised pop outrage.
Ablunt, rumbustious Lancashire raconteur
and abreed apart from the gutless talking
heads who pass as chat show hosts these days,
Grundy was suspended by Thames for twomonths for his role in the Today affair. He left
the company two years later and now works asafreelance writer fromhis home in Marple near
Manchester. As far as the
Sex Pistols go, however, heis stridently unrepentant.
"They were avery silly setof untalented boys. I
thought they were rather arum lot when I
first set eyeson them at Thames, the four
villainous-looking yobs. Of
course, they were also in thehands of that master of hype
Malcolm McLaren, whose
real concern for them wasrevealed by the way he looked after Sid
Vicious. That side of pop music has always
been absolutely deplorable."At the time of the Today episode, Radio One
DJ John Peel said that if you were to take any
four working-class lads into aTV studio, allow
them to drink, make them feel important andthen ask them to say something outrageous,
you would get the kind of reaction Grundy got
from the Pistols. Does Bill now admit toprovoking the band?
"That, if I
may say so, is aload of balls! Did
you see the interview? When somebody says
'fuck' on afamily show, what am I
supposed to
do? Get up and walk out? I
told them that, if
they were trying to shock me, then they could
not do so. I
was in the navy! Now, if that's
provoking them, then I
provoked them. I
had
agood mind to go over and thump them!"
Was it the most difficult live interview he hasever done?
"Was it buggery! I've been in television for 30
years and I've interviewed everybody fromprime ministers downwards! The Sex Pistols
were unusual, but they were certainly not as
difficult as apolitician who simply won't answer
your questions straight."
Grundy agreed to compere the G-Mex
Festival as afavour to his
friend Tony Wilson. Given
his feelings about the
Pistols, is it not alittle ironicthat he should want toparticipate in an event
celebrating punk?
"I see no irony orcontradiction in it. I
wouldn't
like to be there too long. But
I
think I
will probably talk formore than afew minutes
about it -and in moreabusive terms than people
might expect." Adrian Thrills"I had agood mind
to go over andthump them"76

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

120,000
tickets soldNME AUG 9

Q

UEEN'S FINAL CONCERT of
their European tour, at Knebworth
Park this Saturday (9), will be thebiggest rock event in the UK since
Bob Dylan played Blackbushe 10
years ago-with 120,000 tickets
already sold. Gates open at noon,
and the running order is BelouisSome 3.30pm, Status Quo 4.30, Big
Country 6.25 and Queen 8.15.
British Rail is running special trainsfrom London to Stevenage (do not get
off at Knebworth Station) at 30-minuteintervals from early Saturday morning(also return after the show), and thereis acontinuous shuttle bus service toand from the site.

"Over the11

NME
Ozzy exonerated
in teen suicide case.

0

ZZY OSBOURNE -who
was facing amajor court case,instigated by the father of
19-year-old fan John McCollum, who
killed himself while listening to Ozzy's"Suicide Solution" song -was "elated,
relieved and over the moon" after
hearing that the Supreme Court in
Los Angeles had thrown out the caseagainst him.
"It was totally ludicrous to suggestthat my music had caused this young
man to commit suicide," said
Osbourne. "Of course, I'm upset thatJohn McCollum took his own life, but
to blame me is typical of the hystericalanti-Ozzy US lobby."

The Smiths:
EMIcouldget"uptofourLPs"

MM AUG 23

NME
Have The Smiths signed
to [MP Rough Trade don't think so...

Ti

ESMITHS HAVE signed along-term worldwide
deal with EMI Records, but it may be some time
before the moguls of Manchester Square can getthem onto vinyl, particularly if Rough Trade haveanything to do with it.
Aspokesman for Rough Trade said theywere not awarethat the ink had dried on the EMI paper and that Morrissey
and his men were still expected to deliver two more
singles, and possibly two albums for the independentlabel: "We know theywere talking to EMI, but no one has
told us that papers have been signed. We've booked theminto astudio to make another LP before the end of the year
and we are also hoping to record alive album from theirLondon Palladium concert next month.
"Another single, 'Ask', is coming out in October and asecond is due very shortly afterwards. Any lawyer who
helps sign agroup to one label when they are still undercontract to another is pretty ridiculous. EMI could havequite alongwait before they can release any records."
Differences of opinion between The Smiths and RoughTrade have been well documented, such as Morrissey's
reluctance to make videos and the numerous behind-thescenes wrangles which delayed the release of The Queen Is
Dead for months.
EMI are "delighted" with their latest acquisition and see
no major problems regarding The Smiths' commitments
to Rough Trade. "Naturally we are thrilled to pieces with
the news, which could mean we get up to four LPs fromthe group," said aspokesman.
"The contracts have been signed, although there aresome short-term considerations with Rough Trade wh ichhave yet to be finished."
EMI have also signed Cabaret Voltaire, who are currently
recording an album for Parlophone, to be released in the
NewYear. Rumours abound that, at one stage, EMI were
trying to pickup four of the biggest-selling independent
bands in the country by also approaching
New Order and Depeche Mode.
The value of The Smiths' newcontract is aclosely guarded
secret, although figures close
to il million have been
rumoured, possibly
including astraightpayment to Rough Tradeto persuade them to drop
their option on anymore
material. Terry Staunton

My girlfriend's an American.
They're really good when you
get used to them.

BerlinIthink it's quite romantic.
even though people comehere for the plastic romanceof the wall 'n' that. It suffersfrom melodrama.

The only work we've done in thelast year has been on the movie
Pretty In Pink, by John Hughes. Well,
we have been writing, but the film's
the only work we've done to get ourmugs about.

June20,1986:
Butler withr
the Furs
Glastonbury

in, oh, three-and-a half years. Iwish I
did sometimes, because when you're
writing lyrics it really helps loosen
you up. Socially it helps, as well.

The Rolling Stones

Dreams

They used to be great but they're
not very relevant these days.

Ialways try to figure out how muchyou can analyse what they mean. I've
had some weird ones lately,
so Iborrowed adream book andwhat Ifigured the dreams to beabout as soon as Iwoke up -which
is what analysts tell you to look at tallied in quite closely with what thebook said, so I
think maybe there issomething in it.

Andy Warhol
Very important in terms of art
history. And anice guy. Bit ofascreamer but... ha ha!

Chernobyl
Iwas in Berlin when it happened,
only about 700 miles from theepicentre, so Idon't know how
much radiation I've got. You
can't believe what you're told. It's
frightening. Imean, Ipollute mybody by smoking, but there's always
the option, and Ieat healthily and
Idon't drink and the idea thatsomebody can come along anddestroy all that is obscene.

MTV
Ithought it was ariveting idea at
first to have 24-hour cable TV, but
it gets abit boring because it has
aplaylist. It's not as adventurous as it
was when it first came out.

He's great. I've been into him since
Dirty Mind, along time ago. 1999 is
probably my favourite album of his.
1 1‘

Alcohol
It can be great if you don't do
too much. Ha ha... everything inmoderation. Iused to do far too
much and Iwas finding it hardto think clearly. Iwas getting a
bit addled, so Ihaven't touched it

Nightmares
Idon't have many terriblenightmares; Ihave vaguely
disturbing dreams. It's been afew
months since Iwoke up in acold
sweat. Ihate those ones -soaking
wet sheets!

Ambition
I'm definitely more materialistic
than Iused to be, but thenI'm also getting more
spiritual, and Idefinitely
wouldn't throw one
away at the expenseof the other. I'd liketo get old with alotof grace and see a
lot of the world.

What was it Steve
Martin said?
"The mostwonderful
thing
money
can
buy."

S. MICHAEL PUTLAND IGETTY

Could havealong wait"

Americans19861,,e2- MELODY ft4

JULY 5

LIZA IS Alittle squiffy. Iknow this because she tells Roger as much.
ger," she says,"lama little squiffy." Roger finds this information hilarious.
"Eliza, my darl ing, you look wonderful -have another Pimm's," he bellowalnoudly, hissuddenly
shouldersto
heavingsend myvirginin the glorious
pint oftradition
ideologicallyof Edward
sound Heathlager down
as he thelurchescleavagelratrou
her
attractive blonde in ablack cocktail dress.
"Sorry chaps," he announces airily and disappears into the melee, frugging. lie's areal wag, is Rog>
Boys as penguins and girls as wedd ing cakes- that's about the size of it. Balloons all over the shop,»streamers, red, white and blue decorations ("Oh, we thought England were going to beat Argentiniesays
AStudent defensively), plummy accents, squiffy El izas, clumsy Rogers and things that go bang in thenight. Fab. This is The Housemartins' first summer ball and they haven't got athing towear.
They slouch in the bar in t
heir baggy sweaters and jeans watching incredulously as the flower of Britain's
youth, the top five percent of you ng brain power, dissolve into gibbering monkeys before their eyes.
Their single has just gone Top Three... they are bona-fide pop stars already wrestl i
ng with theirconsciences and desperate to hang on to their sanity and what happens? They fi nd themselves in
Hampstead (ideologically unsound Hampstead!) playing at some poxy summer ball for some poxy bunch

78 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

an anti-royalist
band of left-wing
Christians, are in the
Top 10. At agig forTory students, theband explain thesubversive quality of
their unique position.
"I don't think pop
bands should own
pop music," says
can be owned bygood people."

The Housernartinsin
Hu11,1986:(1-r)Stan
Cullimore,Norman
Cook,HughWhitakerand Paul"Pd"Heaton

1986

R
JULY- MAIM E

of penguins and wedding cakes. Bemused but professional, The
Housemartins hang on to their sweaters and do the business. ARoger
yells at Paul Heaton to take his sweater off. An Eliza screams for him to get
his willy out. The Housemartins, never averse to baiting an audience,
respond in kind. "We'd like to play this as awarm fuck-off to any Tories in
the audience," snarls Heaton... which, considering half the audience
looks to be afuture Tory cabinet, is not aremark entirelywithout risk ofphysical damage.
Apenguin, presumably aTory penguin, dashes to the front of the stage
wielding abottle of bubbly and sprays the band. "That's typical of Tories,"
rants Heaton, "and that's whyyou're gonna lose the next fucking election!"
This could very well end in tears.
Later, somebody throws ared, white and blue fan onstage. Heaton leaps
on it triumphantly and spreads it out for all to see. "Ifyou do this," he says
sweetly, tearing off the red, "look what we've got... Argentina's colours!"
Athunder ofjeers. "Why are you all booing, we won two-one!" One lynch
mob gathers. The rest are too pissed to get upset. The Housemartins areallowed to leave Hampstead unscarred. The happy hour indeed.

p

AUL HEATON (VOCALS, harmonica, worry, silly sweaters):"We thought 'Happy Hour' would go Top 30 and Ithink we hadsome optimism at the back of our minds that it might get tosomething like 18 or 19, but none of us expected it to be Top 10. The
video's made it, really. People in television seem to like the video. And
it's ashort song- that helps."
HUGH WHITAKER (drums, vocals and daydreams): "I've got areal buzzout of seeing it in the charts, just as astatistic. All the relatives are pleased...
but the trappings that go with it, Idon't go for at all. All it means is you canplay the game. We like to surprise people, but it's getting more difficult.
STAN CULLIMORE (guitar, vocals, glasses, insulting one-liners): "We
prefer to be the underdog, basically. With success... can you imagine
anyone really enjoying it? Deep down?"
NORMAN COOK (bass, vocals, philosophy and laconic humour): "Bitsof it we're enjoying, but bits of it are really goi ng downhill. Six months ago,people were coming to see us with open ears, but now they're coming
because they've heard the record or seen us on television and they're fullof expectation."T

HE HOUSEMARTINS ARE amass of contradictions. They areasunny, straightforward pop band, yet their lyrics are deep,broody and very definitely ideologically sound. They put out
snappy, commercial pop singles and then worry themselves sick about
the consequences of stardom. They are Christians, but they drink andswear and like to boogie. They want to be subversive, but they seem
like simple boys interested in football, girls and afour-bar beat. They
wear terrible sweaters and look awkward on stage, but they are abrilliant live band. They are ugly bastards, but they are also pop stars.
Now that "Happy Hour" has taken off, there seems no limit to theirpotential. The first two singles, "Flag Day" and "Sheep", were bothminor hits, but on their debut album, London 0Hu114, it's conceivable
to imagine every track as apossible single. Confused by success they
may well now be, but their rise thus far has been clear-sighted... Theirslogans "The Housemartins are quite good" and "The fourth-best bandin Hull" became more famousthan theywere.
And so they sit around arather barren dressing room
in Hampstead, squabbling
among themselves, indulging
in makeshift games of footballon the patio, worrying whether
it's ideologically unsound forthem to be pop stars. Stan
, whiles away the time shaving
H; desultorily. Norman breaks off
at regular intervals to apply astick of deodorant to his armpit.
¡ Paul: "I think we've lost our
2 way alittle bit. Over the last few
5_weeks_we had our first bust-up.
The Housemartins:.. I've personally certainly lost my, "We're Christian..;-, way... We're not crystal clear
socialists, not church' going Biblical studiers":73 what we want to do any more."

80

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

Norman: "To bring in an analogy, until nowthere was one carrot and we
all knewwhat we were going for. Now there's all these other carrots-bigger,
fatter carrots-and we don't knowwhich one we're going for anymore."
Stan: "It's like nowwe've been elected, nowwe're in government and
we're having all these squabbles."Paul: "We were tadpoles, and nowwe're frogs looking for abigger pond."
Dear God, kings of analogy already!
Norman: "Did you know that Ringo developed anervous twitch becauseof all the pressures? He had to wear dark glasses to hide it. Not that I'mtrying to saywe're bigger or better than The Beatles, of course..."Stan: "George Michael has developed this shiver, so he can't use arazor.
Poor bloke... he has to walk around with days and days of stubble on him."
The inner sleeve of the LP bears the following legend: "A Christmas
message from the Housemartins- For too long the ruling class haveenjoyed an extended NewYear's Eve partywhilst we can onlywatch,faces pressed up against the glass. The Housemartins say-Don't try
gatecrashing aparty full of bankers, burn the house down!"
And then: "Take Jesus-Take Marx-Take Hope.""Yeah... Bob Hope, Bob Christ and Groucho Marx," says Stan.
Nice try, but no cigar.
"Actually," says Paul, "we started singing religious songs six months into
the band. We've always been interested in gospel music...I don't know if
you could describe us as Christians, but me, Stan and Norman particularly
always wanted to approach the band on Christian grounds. We're
Christian socialists... We're certainly not church-going Biblical studiers,
though I
firmly believe in parts of the Bible and the Christian message..."Norman: "One of the most rewarding things about the band is that,when you start talking about religion, people don't just laugh at you.
When I
joined the band, we did two acappellas and neither of themactually mentioned Jesus, and I
was abit worried about how people would
take it, but we could always say, 'Well, we're not actually talking about
Jesus.' But now we've got the confidence to go out and for Paul to actually
preach about Jesus."
Hugh: "One interesting thing about this is that we're talking about thewedding of certain Christian sentiments with radical socialism, not the
Cof ELabour party type of socialism. There's quite adistinction there,
and people pick up on that. It's not religion, it's more like grass-roots
gospel type of religion. As Trotsky said, the Church Of England is the
Tory party at prayer."
Norman: "Marx said religion is the opium of the people."
Whatever... The Housemartins play acorking gospel version of the old
Hollies hit, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother".
By popular consensus, Hugh Whitaker is the "most eccentric" memberof the band. At one time, he was actively involved in radical politics, which
he regarded as his main motivation in life, way above and beyond thesimple demands of music. This, after all, is aman whose all-time musicalhero is Tony Bennett.
"Well, when Iwas 17, music was the thing Imost wanted to do -I wanted
to be Paul McCartney or somebody, and then that got superseded bypolitics and my playing in bands was just ahobby. This time it's happened
more or less by accident. Iused to be, not just indifferent to the band's
music, I
actively used to dislike it. The first demo tape we did Ithought
was rubbish, but then they offered me money, basically, and that madeall the difference."
Interviewer laughs, sniffing
awind-up.
Norman: "It's true,honestly. We had to offer
him aguaranteed amountat every gig."
Stan: "He's amusicalmercenary."
He's also appalled by thethought that, any day, young
girls are going to be cuttingout pictures of The
Housemartins and sticking
them on bedroom walls.
Heaven forbid, they chorus.
"At the moment," says
Hugh, "we haven't away of
responding to success. No
one's denying we seriously

THE
NOUSEMARTINS

THE HOUSEMARTINS

Happy
Hour

wanted to get somewhere, but nowwe have and it's
made The Housemartins something different to what
it was before and I'm not sure how we ought to handle
it. Presumablywe have to contrive it more, but The
Housemartins have never been acontrived band. On
apersonal level, the absurdity of me being apin-up...
"Like today we arrived at the record company,
which is ahouse, basically, and there's somegirls waiting outside for us. Even we didn't know
we were going to be there. And at Glastonbury
we were signing autographs! I
mean, we haven't
taken any of that at all seriously, but it's become
like ajoke dream."
Norman: "My only insight in people getting
success comes from films, cliched films about
pop stars. You have all the bad breaks and then it
all goes well...like That'll Be The Dayor that
Slade film... all the pop films... and ies likesuddenly.... leezus, I'm suddenly part of thisfilm, part of this plot that I'd visualised in myhead', and sooner or later it's gonna go wrong.
Stan: "Ina film that's two-and-a-half hours
long, we're about one hour 15 minutes into theplot. At the moment we're still four young happy boys from Hull... but likethat Beatles film, we had to stop watching because it got too depressing.
There's apoint you want to switch off, because you know it can only go
downhill from then on."
Paul: "You get sick about it and then you get giggly about it because it's sodaft and then you talk seriously about it."
Stan: "Usuallyyour music suffers, so inevitablyyou are going to be
destroyed by it. Power corrupts absolutely and money corrupts and alotof success goes to you head. There are very fewpeople who are rich andsuccessful that you can imagine are good people. Very few."
Norman: "And there are the ego problems of the band. We've got quite
afew ego problems already. People who are egotistical in the band are
getting more egotistical and people who are noisy and blabbermouthy
are getting more so. It brings out your worst points."
Collective musical likes, and therefore influences, include Al Green,
Elvis Costello, The Beatles, Billy Bragg, Stevie Wonder, The Redskins, The
Smiths, Style Council and -bless Paul Heaton's heart-The Fall. Whichmakes you curious how they can possibly entertain the idea of shrouding
subversive lyrics in apure pop structure.
There's abody of thought in the band that their follow-up to "Happy
Hour" should be something completely off the wall and profoundly
uncommercial, both as astatement of dissent to ease their consciences
about becoming pop stars and to put abrake on their soar-away success.
Well, they may be with awild and wacky independent label but Idoubt
if they'll be allowed to get awaywith that, even if they seriously try to
pursue it. They have to be content pursuing their protest at the systemthrough lyrics that infiltrate and double-cross. Consider, after all, that
"Flag Day" asks hard questions about the morality of charity; that "Get
Up Off Our Knees" is afurious indictment of the class structure and abitter condemnation of the monarchy; that "Sheep" attacks society's
conventions of orthodoxy; and "We're Not Deep" tackles unemployment.
Paul: "In gospel music, the church wouldn't allowthem to use
tambourines and therewas abig speech about it saying don't let the devil
steal the rhythm... And what they meant was that it's basically everybody's
to use, and my attitude to pop music is similar. Idon't think pop bands
should own pop music. It can be owned by good people. It's our music...
don't let the devil steal our pop music, because it's all we can write, really.
We can't write any material other than English-sounding pop music."
Hugh: "It's anarrow-minded conception that hopefully we might beable to challenge that in order to sing serious songs you have to soundserious. That's how you let you audience know you're being serious. It's aconception that Ihad heard before Iheard Paul and Stan's songs, but now
it's indicative of The Housemartins' originality that we are singing
serious songs. Our songs are usually political and critical in some way,
but we do it in awaywhich is poppy, which makes it more of achallenge...
achallenge for us and for the people listening."
Paul: "I've turned offloads of bands because I've gone to aconcert andall I've heard is areally angry noise. I
just can't listen to the lyrics..."Norman: "There are so many alternative bands saying something, but if
you look at straight pop, veryfew of them are saying anything. It's all lovesongs...I know lots of people who are ideologicallysound and everything, but they're pop fans, they justenjoy hearing pop music on the radio. They're notserious music fans but theybuythem because they
like the music, but the lyrics mean nothing.A band
like thatwho actually say something can get throughto alot more people. One of my favourite types ofmusic is militant soul music... things like Marvin
Gaye with agreat tune and agreat beat andmeaningful lyrics... "What's Going On" and"Abraham, Martin &John"... Curtis Mayfield,
people like that."
Is "Happy Hour" amessage song?
Paul: "Yeah.All our songs are. It's amixtureof two things-it's anti-sexist but the actual
story is based in an office. That office type ofsexism...that whole mentality of ahappy hour
and all the trappings that go with it and thecontinuous happy hour and the people who go
for that sort oflifestyle."
Norman: "We had aletter from somebodytheother daywho said they'd been converted after
seeing us. They listened to what Paul said on
stage and gone into the lyrics abit more and they'd been converted from a
confused liberal to asocialist. Even if that happens on alimited basis, it's
better than nothing. It's better than people like Sigue Sigue Sputnik
having an influence overyoung children and them growing up thinking
that making racist jokes is funny and that capitalism's awonderful thing."
But socialism sells...
Paul: "No, Ican't think of any socialist anthem that's got into the Top 10.
It only sells on avery small scale in the independent scene. There's nobacking at all from big businesses, CBS or Chrysalis or any of them biggroups. I
don't think they'd put their money behind asocialist anthem inthe same waythey'd put it behind alove song."
Would you ever sign to amajor label?
Paul: "I don't think we'll ever sign to another label at all, to be honest.
We don't want to say we'll never sign to amajor, because attitudes change.
We don't want to be dogmatic about it, but at the moment I've got nointerest in making records through any label other than Go! Discs."
Norman: "The only wayyou can work honestlywithin amajor label is if
you're such abig staryou can write all sorts of clauses in your contract andtake complete control over what you're doing. If they can afford not torelease your records, then you're at their mercy and they can water
everything down you say and do."Hugh: "My conception of being rich and still being asocialist took
asevere knock through my experience of being in the Workers
Revolutionary Party, where the Redgraves were very influential. When
there were those allegations of sexual abuse against women members
and Isawthat the Redgraves appeared to be willing to ignore it."
Stan: "I can see us in afew months ifwe carryon being successful
becoming really tiresome. At the moment it's ajoke, but we could become
very tiresome.""If we carryon being
successful, we
could become
very tiresome"0

NE THING'S FOR sure, they won't be in the New Year Honours.
They won't be invited to appear at the Prince's Trust either. Last
week The Sun dredged up athree-month-old Will Smith Maker
interview in which they savaged the royals, and the inclusion on the LPof "Get Up Off Your Knees" reaffirms their attitude to the monarchy.
Paul: "In conservative terms it's very unfortunate, but we can no longer
afford the royals."
Stan: "We're hoping for voluntary redundancy and natural wastage to
get rid of them."
Norman: "Basically, we haven't got the beds for them. That's why
they're getting married, so they can share beds."
Stan: "In America, God bless it, America's only got one president and
one woman. Can we afford to keep an entire menagerie? Isuggest weshould burn the Queen Mother and... you know, like The Beatles used tochop their bedclothes into inch squares, we should chop the Royal Family
into small bits and sell them to Japanese tourists..."Vicious boys. Can we ever trust afresh-faced pop song again?
As they wake up with their hangovers and their hazy memories ofmaking complete tossers of themselves in Hampstead, Eliza and Roger
may reflect on that and consider they escaped very lightly. Colin Irwin •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 ISi

186

R

Gritty andconfident
NME AUG 2

am, Thalitl The Wedding
launch NME's C86 tape at the ICA.
I
¡al SiKENJI KUNO, MIKE MORTONA

NEXCELLENT SHOWCASE
inevitably overshadowed by the
week's Big Event. No, not the
fairytale preliminaries to the inbreedingof Ms Ferguson and her charming prince[The royal wedding of Prince Andrew andSarah Ferguson, July 23], I'm talking about
Trouble Funk.
Openers The Servants have alreadymade one fine record and will makemore. For now, however, their live
incarnation requires an act offaith ;you have to believe thatDavid Westlake's edgy songs
will, through either familiarity
or longer sets, overcome an
inevitable lack of crash-bangwallop instant impact. As it was,their playing -grittier and more
confident than the limpid beauty of their"She's Always Hiding" debut promised -neverfiltered much beyond the edge of the stage.
Another act of faith; better to come.
Primal Scream -now amere six-piece: one
red shirt, the rest black -cantered throughaset that may well have been their best yet(three words from front-fringe Bobby
Gillespie is atriumph), but which only flared
into real blindingness with its concluding 90
seconds. But what afinale! "Velocity Girl" isGillespie's certificate of sanity, his proffered
proof that he may not, after all, turn out to be
the Pete Best of the '80s.
And between the
two The Wedding
Present -velocity boys,
acceleration addicts,
hooked on hurtling were arevelation. Given
that they make Husker
Dü sound like the Swanson Mogadon, the wheels
have been known tocome off their set,
rendering them ahorrid
nerve-shred din. But
tonight, their blur ofguitars -even thephysiology-defying
middle threes (no timefor eights!) -were asnote perfect as they'dwish; ie, not exactly.
Fast (what else?),furious (wankers in thecrowd), and very, very
funny, their 20 minutes
were breakneck brilliant,and theiri5 cannot
be far away.
Danny Kelly

82 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

Primal Scream'sBobby
Gillespie and (inset)David
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Charman of The Wedding
Present midway through aweek of performances by
C86 artistsat London's
ICA,July1986•
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1986

Juty -011.10ER

August 5,1986:
Mick Hucknall
on stage with
Simply Red in
Chicago, Illinois

Si

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

SIMPLY FI ED"You've
got to gowith thesesituations"T

NME MUST 16 --HE LIFT DOOR opens and here he is, singing
Marvin. He walks across the carpet towards
me smiling his most likeable smile, pleased
with himself and the world, light on his feet,perhaps even swaggering alittle. One Red
hand is tugging at the tangle of copper curls
hanging across his forehead, while the other beats his cap,tambourine-like, against his tracksuited leg.
Keeping Marvin's beat. Pleased to meet you, we both say.
"IfyoufeellikeIfeel,babycomeon,00hcomeon."Mick
Hucknall is serenading the Minneapolis dusk. Out front of thehotel, the doorman cab-catching forus knows better than tobat an eyelid and you're welcome's us on ourwayto atable at
Ciatti's, an Italian restaurant deemed suitable for out-of-town
hitmakers with areputation for big appetites.
Unwittinglywe sit down next to the State Of Minnesota's
noisiest three-child family and, finding some privacy behind
the wall of sound they create, begin aconversation which
drifts inexorably towards the carnal.
Will you stop bouncing up and down, you naughty girl?"
This is an exasperated mother speaking from the adjoining
table, not Mick. He's too busy telling me about the masseuse he
met acouple of shows back on Simply Red's current US tour,
whose offer of afree demonstration of her professional skills
caused him to miss the tour bus to LA. They'd met up after
the show and, for want of somewhere better,
had taken the first road out of town in searchof aquiet spot...
Mick paints apicture of abalmy night, adeserted roadside, dark but for the glowof theheadlights, silent but for the sound of the car »Su RENDERPAUL NATKIN /GETTY

The soulful ;IMPLY RED aremaking great progress.
So, it transpires, is
HUCKNAL ,who plays theloverman role as often as
humanly possible: "I'm notreally askirt chaser, I'm
alover. I
make love."

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I85

radio. He is coaxed out of his shirt and on to the soft
grass to receive these expert ministrations, then allof asudden... nothing. Darkness. Silence. Nothing.
Aflat battery can put even the most zealous
masseuse off her stride, particularly when it
happens three miles out of town and aquick sprint is
the onlyway of making it back to the departing tour
bus. "It was alright forher 'cos she was real fit, but lwas
stopping every 200 yards saying, 'I don't think we need torush this much, do you?" Mick grins awinning Red grin andcatalogues the outcome, amissed coach, anight on achoppy
waterbed and amorning flight to rejoin the band. C'est la vie.
The reporting of this anecdote isn't evidence of some new Get Smutty
editorial policy or of any previously suppressed desire of my own to work
for The National Enquirer. It's just amatter of noting afact that everyonein the Red camp take for granted- Mick Hucknall is avery gregarious
sort of guy.
"He gets terribly irritable if he isn't getting it every day," observes one
crew member unprompted the following evening. "Ask anyone."
But I
found !didn't need to ask-only to watch and listen. Minutes
later, the tour manager was to pass bywith the news that Mick's plannedinterview in Chicago two days hence had been cancelled, that he'd nolonger need to stay an extra night there alone and so could travel with therest of the crew on the bus. "Oh God, fix him up with another interview
quick," pleaded one band member in mock horror. "Please. He'll beterrible if he doesn't get his, er, sleep.""So Mick, you're abit of alad, then?" I
venture, pouring him an
encouraging glass of wine.
"I'm not really askirt chaser, I'm alover. Imake love." He waves his fork
at me in illustration of this semantic difference. "The women I
know seethat distinction and I
have great times with them. I
have really strong
relationships with women and Iprefer their company to men's, but I
think! was much crazierwhen I
was 18 than!
am now."
He's obviously the original for The Man Who
Loved Women. He tells me variously how hedespises the 14-year-olds-in-the-showergroupie mentality of many touring rock bands,
objects to the subservient role dealt to womenby most religious creeds, and strives for honestyin all his relationships, cutting through the
double-standard bullshit that allows malemusicians to strut their stuff around the world
while wives or girlfriends wait faithfully athome. Uh-huh?
"I can't stand the ambiguity, the lies," he says
with force. "But fortunately for me I'm not tied,
which means Ihave good relationships. Every
single girl Iknow (Know? Know), I'm
completely honest with, right down theline. I
tell them that !see other girls. Ifthey don't like it, they can go home."That said, it's asurprise to hear him saythat he'd almost got married last year but
had changed his mind at the last minute.
"It's postcards between us now.
It's impossible."
But what if you had reached thealtar, Mick?
"It would have failed," he says,
unceremoniously. "I'd have been
divorced by now. I've got quite ahigh sex
drive, and if you're away from home forsix months at atime... Well, let's be
perfectly frank, you get women making
it clear what they want to do with you.
"There's aclassic Steve McQueen
quote, when his wife found out about his
infidelities. He just said that he got tiredof saying no. Listen, if you've got abeautiful woman standing in front of you
demanding to spend the night with you,you can only say no for so long. In the end,

you think, 'I'm lonely, I'm really lonely. I've not seen
anybody. I'm not bisexual and Ican't get off on me'...
People never see that side of things."
By the end of mytwo days in Minneapolis I'll beseeing it. In fact, I'll return to London thinking ofMick as someone with averitable mission to ward offloneliness, no matter what hour of the day or night it
might threaten to strike. But for now, I'm content tolisten and learn.
"I don't know, maybe it's the audience we attract, but
certainly the girls Iknow are very interesting people," he issaying. "They've got brains. They're not idiots. They've got their own
careers and they're interested in me because of my independence. In fact,
most of them are career women, doing their own thing..."
The wine is compounding with the jet lag-just two hours off the plane-to induce romantic notions within me. Ipicture Mick Hucknall stalking
along Wall Street, brandishing his duppie (much maligned as amere
walking stick), and attracting aHamelin-esque gaggle of brokers andbond dealers, purposeful youngwomen in tight business suits and highheels, swinging briefcases and umbrellas as they pursue their sweetvoiced hero to his hotel suite. But I'm wildly wide of the mark.
"Like one girl Iknow is an acrobat," he is explaining to me. Impolitely,
Ifind myself choking on my salad.
"And another is aprofessional chef, catering to really rich people."That terrible old joke about the Australian's ideal woman being adumbblonde nymphomaniac who runs apub springs to mind, then scurries
away ashamed of itself. But it's been put to me that, after music, the chief
loves of Hucknall's life are making love and eating. How blessed that life
must sometimes seem.
But now he's asking me about my own sex life, so we'll move forward to
the moment when !pay the bill and we leave the restaurant, somewhat
unsteadily in my case, on aquest to find The FirstAvenue, the Prince/Jam&Lewis-endorsed club where Simply Red are toplay, spellbindingly, the following night. Acabis duly hailed and we are bundling into it whenasma!! English sports car draws up alongsidecontaining afresh-faced young couple.
"Hey, aren't you Simply Red?" calls the girl.
"Do you guys need aride anywhere?"
Mick's pulling me out of the cab before thedriver even has achance to curse his lost fare.
"You've got to go with these situations, Alan,"he tells me. And straight awaywe're off into thenight, the two of us perched up on the boot of
this tiny convertible, our legs wedged in behind
the two front seats, goingwith the situation atabout 60 miles per hour in abuilt-up zone.
But at least we get there quickly. The club islittle more than half full tonight, with
amainlywhite crowd standing round111•1•0111Mil
the bars paying cursory attention to
the below-par band. Myfirst beerconfirms that I've already had morethan enough to drink for one day, soIhead for the door trying hard toremember the name of the hotel
Ichecked into earlier.
For Mick the night's still young,though. After Ileave, ayoung jock
will come up to him and offer theopinion that Simply Red's music
stinks. This won't go down well with
Mick, who'll jut apugilist's jaw andask the critic outside to settle thescore. The kid will back off at once,
surprised, returning later toapologise. But that's still to come,and when I
look over my shoulder
Mick's all smiles, chatting to the girlfrom the sports car while her
boyfriend looks uncertainly on.
Whether or not aloneliness situation
is developing, it's hard to tell.

"I haven't got
no socialconscience. I'm
glad to get outof that trap"

88 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

SIMPLY RED

ACC

ND IASKED for the bill andthey said there's no charge,
thank you for the music."
America is falling in love with Simply
Red. "Holding BackThe Years" has juststepped off the Number One slot, with
"Money's Too Tight To Mention" alreadyracking up the singles chart to take its
place. The album Picture Book is doing
serious business, and all this exposure, allthis success, brings rewards both
expected and unexpected.
tIt's the next day and Mick Hucknall's rolled
straight from his bed round to another Italianrestaurant where he'd arranged to meet anothergirl for lunch. The food was better than last night
and, surprise surprise, it came for free. This
must seem light years away from those three
years on the dole in Manchester.
"It's changed me, of course it has," he says. "IfIchanged I
wouldn't be able to deal with it -youhave to adapt. But the mistake is if you change
your character, rather than just your lifestyle,and I
don't believe I've changed that part of meat all. I'm still capable of having abloody goodtime with the people Iused to hang around with
before. It's more that protocol, myway of dealing
with people, that has changed."
Anecessary change. For all his open manner and lack of attitude,
Hucknall isn't aman to suffer fools gladly, and life throws more than afew
his way these days.
There are the bar-room bores who expect him to buy rounds for thei'l<

IL 1I-Zt

rather than just afoil to I
lucknall's voice,winning attention for individual
musicians. Just how far they've comesince Picture Book is demonstrated thatnight when they take the stage,
immaculate in their Paul Smith suits.
Acrowd well beyond capacity, some 40
per cent of it black, gives them areception
fit for heroes throughout aset piled highwith memorable performances. "My God
there are some gorgeous women here
1',(:)C)K
tonight," declares Mick excitedly as hemoves from the opening "Grandma's Hands"
into "Sad Old Red". Like all the tracks from thealbum performed tonight-current single "RedBox" included- its live incarnation makes therecorded version sound like ademo.
"We can wipe the floor with the album now,"
he'd told me earlier, and he's right. "Ifwe were to
re-record it now, it would be aclassic."
The chance to set Simply Red's new-foundexcellence down on vinyl will come next month,"If we were to
re-record thealbum now,
it would beaclassic"

whole world each time he steps into apub, the ex-pat Brits who imagine
he wants nothing more than to give away free concert tickets to the first
non-American voice he hears, and then the professional scene watchers
from London and Manchester who are observing his every move as if hewere astick insect in some second form biology experiment.
"I don't feel any sort of dilemma at all about success. When I
go back to
the pub I
used to drink in when I
was unemployed and have agame of pool,
Ido it because I
like it, not because I've got some sort of social conscience
about wanting to remain working class-I'll never be anything else.
"It only gets different if you start feeling guilty about it. Ithink maybe
that's the trap someone like Weller has fallen into. He feels he has to havesome sort of social conscience. Ihaven't got no social conscience. I'm gladto get out of that trap. It doesn't mean to say I've forgotten, but I'm out..."And, as Paul Morley pointed out in that open letter to Red in NMEsome
months ago, getting out can be the cardinal sin as far as professional
Mancunians are concerned. Mick says he feels strong ties to the placebecause it's home, but not to the people, and he is derisive about what hesees as the time-warp mentality he has left behind, with its embrace of
the indie scene and John Peel sessions as the acceptable face of success.
But he hasn't forgotten that he could have cut off his options 12 or 13
years ago when, by his own description, he was abeer-gutted adolescentin flares and aBen Sherman, chatting up older girls at local nightclubs
and stealing from building sites to supplement the money from his
paper round.
"The way I
look at it, I'm lucky never to have got caught," he says,
suddenly stone-cold serious. "If Ihad got caught, I
wouldn't be here now,
I'm certain of that. Iknow other people who did get caught and they'vebeen in and out of nick ever since. But one day I
just grew out of it."
Perhaps that's why Simply Red has seemed so much of aone-man bandto anyone who has not seen their live performances. His voice, his songs,
his face on the album sleeve, him doing the talking in interviews- thegroup as an escape route out of Mick Hucknall's past. Is he really adictator?
"Yeah, but Iget results, Ireally do. Alot of the time it's for their own good.
They tell me theywant to be agroup and! say I
want that too, thensometimes on stage everybody's back there and I'm way out here. I
say
we're not going to be agroup until you come forward and do something.
So I'm adictator to that extent, but I'm not self-promoting. It's very muchfor the band."The move towards aheightened profile for the five other members
has happened naturally in America, with press work being shared as
far as possible and the growing confidence of Simply Red as aunit,

when the band moves over to Compass Point,
Nassau, to begin workwith producerAlex
Sadkin on their second album. Chris, Tim andTony have already explained to me that they
were attracted to Sadkin by his knowledge of
reggae, unusual amongAmerican producers,
and that theyforesee aharder, more rhythmic edge to the new music.
Tonight, we're given previews of "The Right Thing", expected to be
their next UK single, and "Infidelity", one of two songs resulting fromarecent Hucknall collaborationwith his hero Lamont Dozier. Also up
for potential inclusion are covers of Bunny Wailer's "Love Fire" and Sly
Stone's "Let Me Have ItAll", which, combined with aprobable guest
appearance byAnita Baker on afurther track, bodes well for Simply Red's
recorded future.
But tonight, the enhanced performances of PictureBook material are
more than enough to win the band five encores, keeping Mick on his toes
until the seat of his pants, much displayed to the girls down the front, ismarked by two huge pools of sweat.

B

ACKSTAGE THE MOOD is suitably up, but not complacent.
"What did you really think?" is the question most often asked.
Fritz is dancing elegantly, Soloman-like, to aMiles Davis tape.
Sylvan is telling me about his afternoon spent knocking on doors in thesuburbs -part of his regular routine in any town now as aJehovah's
Witness. Chris and Tony are doing their duty with local radio
personnel and Tim is striving manfully to keep aconversation goingwith adrunken Icelandic journalist. "Yes, Icertainly like fish," he issaying. And Mick? He's dealing with asudden bout of lonelinesssomewhere out back.
When he re-emerges he falls target for the kind of fawning he'd parodied
to me the previous evening: "Loved the show. I
mean, it was just so
happening. Ireally love what you guys are doing, you know?" He accepts
and deflects the praise with grins and shrugs, then moves off again.
Tim, the Angel Gabriel trumpeter, is blushingly recounting how avast
black man grabbed him on the way to the dressing room and told him heplayed better than anyone since Dizzy Gillespie. "I mean, really," he says
with embarrassment, making adismissive gesture with his arm. So yes,
Simply Red are going to be wellloved in the United States.
Talk drifts towards the subject of the next night's show in Chicago,and it's agreed amove should be made towards the bus, ready for the
400-mile-odd overnight journey. "Where's Mick gone?" someone asks.
"Where d'you think?" comes the reply.
"The bus is rocking even as we speak."Iremember what he'd saidwhen Iasked him if the next album would
have the same underlying current of social awareness- poverty, lack ofopportunity- as Picture Book. "Yeah," he'd said, "there'll be some of that,and the there'll be some of the other.""What other?" I'd asked.
"Women," he'd replied, laughing. "Women."
At 3am in Minneapolis it seems afair bet that the other is winning theupper hand. Alan Jackson •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I87

CCMore fromthe heartthan thehead"
An uncomfortable but very funny encounter with
The singer finds rock critics so
admirable, he has written asong called "Scum"about them. "I'm less and less inclined towards
being colourful food for other people to consume."

NME

BLEDDYN BUTCHERAMONG NICK CAVE'S most prized possessions is ahardcover green
book stuffed with press cuttings and private observations written
in his painstakingly spidery hand.
"There was an academic painter at the turn of the century, whosename escapes me at the moment, who did portraits of rich people
and aristocrats, like apoet laureate. When he died they found atrunkfull of other paintings he did. And they all were obsessed with one theme: the reflectionof awoman breaching the pinking surface of apuddle with her stride.
"Theywere not particularly
obscene, but it was obvious he
was using his artistic prowess
for other reasons than toportray the rich who gave him
money to do it. And this is mybook; I'm allowed to write asmuch about whatever I
like as

PRI C
K ME

BLEED?
DO I
Nar

I
want. Rather than livi ng out »88 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

r+;

Nick Cave working on his
firstnovel,AndTheAss
Saw TheAngel, in Bad
Seeds drummer Thomas
Wydler's loft on Berlin's
Yorckstrasse,1985

tg*...t‘sf‘d

IML

HISTORY OJF A iili

194elkfj

198

JUL Y

FRANS SCHELLFIŒNS /GETTY

•,

EMBER

October 6,1986
onstage at the
Vredenburg in
Utrecht,
Netherlands

the extremes of our particular fantasies, most of us rid ourselves of thesedesires in other ways— beating the wife, the normal day-to-day things.
In this particular book! indulge myself to the limits. Idon't have to show
this to anyone; I
don't have to worry about whether my mother's goingto read it..."I
believe it incudes asong about the British music press entitled "Scum".
"I didn't write it about the press; I
wrote it about you. See, here's awhole
lot of scums. There's one; this is about you..."He flicks through the pages, his pink-rimmed eyes not looking up once
to meet mine...
90 I
HISTORY OF ROCK 1986"...You ...you. This is just akind of
pastime. I
write hate lyrics reallywell. It's not every dayyou can use
them, really..."This interview is not turning out at
all as I'd hoped...
Ihad hoped for an interviewwhich
would amplify how Nick Cave's
preoccupations have been revealingly
side-lit by his new album consisting
entirely of coverversions. Called
KickingAgainst The Pricks, its very title
alludes not only to the verse from theActs Of TheApostles, but perhaps also
to Samuel Beckett's borrowing of thephrase; certainly, apun of Cave's own
devising is intended. And I
suspect!
might be one of the pricks.
As he explains in his measured,dictation-speed sigh of avoice,"There's not agreat deal of academic
intellectualisation of the reasons why
we did these particular songs. We'remusicians and feel music more fromthe heart than the head. I'm not surewhether you can understand that."
Ouch.
"There was no round-table debate
as to what each particular songmeans. When Ilisten to asong, it
strikes myheart whether it's
worthwhile or not. There's somethingso basic and so simple it shouldn't evenneed to be said."
What, however, constitutes that
supposedly instinctive recognition ofasong's worth is not so simple. On his
new album there are self-confessed
tributes, like his version of "The
Hammer Song", originally by his
schoolboy hero Alex Harvey, thepiratical Glaswegian rocker whose
Jacques Brel-derived theatricalism
anticipated punk.
Missing from ...Pricks, however, aresongs Cave loves which have alreadybeen fully realised elsewhere, offering
no avenues for further exploration.
Van Morrison'sAstra/ Weeks LP is acasein point, though Cave reviles all hisother records.
Likewise damned is Jimi Hendrix,
whose rendition of "HeyJoe" Caveregards as an easily surpassablehigh point in an unappealing
career. Not unlike Tim Rose's 1967
performance, which he heard only
after recording his own, Nick Cave's"Hey Joe" invokes abrooding cosmic
wrath surrounding Joe's crime
passionnel, which echoes the heavenly
portents which attended the birth of
the Presley twins in "Tupelo" (a song
where he now faults his own gruff singing).
These are details, however. KickingAgainst The Pricks is arichly
exciting, dramatic record, not only for the choice of songs and theirsinging, but also for the revitalising aplomb and, where needs be,
restraint of their performance by The Bad Seeds, whose highly talented
maestro Mick Harvey (also of CrimeAnd The City Solution) is too little
recognised.
KickingAgainst The Pricks is, in addition, afurther instalment in theremoulding of Nick Cave into one of the rock world's most striking andmulti-levelled leading players.

NICK CAVE

junkie. That all four of us have also heaped
extravagant praise upon his work cuts no

For astart, Nick Cave hates the "rockworld". Like fellow itinerantAustralianmusicians The Go-Betweens' Grant
McLennan and Robert Forster, The
Triffids' David McCombs, The Moodists'
Dave Graney, and former Saint and
Laughing Clown Ed Kuepper, he is highly
literate about rock and its many sources,
but inclines towards its most earthy poetsof passion, the balladeers and storytellers.
Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison -like him,
men in black-figure large in his taste, as
do Elvis Presley and Bob Dylan, whose laterecords Cave particularly enjoys, not least
because he discovered them for himself
amongst rock criticism's bargain-bin of
talents supposedly declined into
mawkishness and stupor.
Cave has sought amongst this canon those themes which most closely
resemble his preoccupation- that of ajilted lover whose thoughts inabandoned desolation turn from regret to grief to vengeance. That theend of his relationship with his girlfriend of seven years, Anita Lane, in
1983 has inspired so much of his subsequent workhas never been denied.
From that point, Cave has turned his life's big wound into art, and hehas also plunged into that art as asafetyvalve. Not for along time hasamore poignantly tragic figure -one whose downfall springs from an
unbalancing ruling passion- starred in rock's obsessively scrutinisedzone where private life and public image overlap.
His gravity of demeanour and much-trailed affinity with serious literary
endeavour (likewise acharacteristic of those other aforementioned
Australians) not only mark him out from the frivolities of the pop
industry, but also bestows on him asubstantial tradition in which histormented desolation may find ahome.
Now is the winter ofour discontent...
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows ofoutrageousfortune.. .
Well since my baby left me, I'vefound anew place to dwell. Its down at theend ofLonelyStreet at Heartbreak Hotel...
Not for Nick Cave the battlements of Elsinore; he stalks instead
America's Deep South, alarger-than-life corrupted Eden of hot blood,
primitive religion, swamplands, scarlet women, quack sawbones,
whiskey preachers, riverboat gamblers, white trash, slaves and thelynch mob. In fact. Cave is barely acquainted with the area. But then,John Fogertywrote evocative bayou songs for California's Creedence
Clearwater Revival without getting so much as
within sniffing distance of an alligator's tail.
This mythical Deep South serves not only as
the landscape for some of Cave's favourite
music, but also as abackdrop sufficientlywild
and impassioned to project his tragic image
onto-an Oedipus wreck in winklepickers.
"I just think Mat Snow is an arsehole who said
this, and it's not true. I
find it Ihard to sit down
and talk to someone who gave us abad review."
Tragic figures are usually proud -it goeswith the territory. Petty-mindedness, however,tends to be comic. So how come neither of us
are laughing? What had Idone to poison thiswhole encounter?
In March last year I
wrote of an Einstürzende
Neubauten single that it "musters thepsychodramatic edge disappointingly absent from
Nick Cave's forthcoming LP". That's all, yet his
grudge has stewed in bile ever since. Nor is myreassurance, for what it's worth, that The Firstborn Is
Dead LP has subsequently grown in my estimation,of any use. At least lam not alone as the target of"Scum": also included are NME's temporarily
retired Barney Hoskyns for no reason Iknow of; The
Australian's Nicolas Bothwell, for whom Anita Lane
deserted Nick ("personal reasons" as Cave wryly
explains); andAntonella Black, who in an interview
for ZigZag, portrayed him as apetulant, dribblingice at all.
"If someone says something good about
me, they're doing their job; I
have nocomplaints. They get no medal, they get
their wage. That's all. But if they say
something bad, then that really gets on
my tits. I'm inconsistent, I'm illogical, I'm
irrational about it. So fuckin' what?"
Cave's voice barely rises. He's aslaboriously patient as an iceberg.
"There are some people who will take itin good stead and laugh. But I
take it as apersonal insult and harbour it. And thenthat person comes up to me and attempts
to shake my hand with asmile and say, 'Hi,
longtime no see, burble burble burble.''Everything that's said against me offends me, whether it's true or not.
1can't fathom these people who flunked their arts courses and becamerock journalists and are too goddamned ignorant about music, or
academic about their thoughts, or have so many hang-ups that they can't
bring themselves to perform. Yet it is these people whose opinions areheralded and lauded as being gospel.
"Some arsehole will go along to our concert in abad mood because hewill have prematurely ejaculated with his new girlfriend and then been
shoved around by afew skinheads, and consequently give the concert
abad review. And people read it and imbibe!
"It reallyboils my blood and makes me sick to think that this is still
perpetuated and the same idiotic process continues of me speaking alotof shit to some fool. It's not what I
consider to be aday that I
enjoy, adaythat Iconsider profitable."If, with few exceptions, Cave has scant regard for we earnest,
backstabbing scribblers, he "doesn't give aflying fuck" for the other fourfifths of his audience, most ofwhom by my reckoning are full-time goths,
part-time slummers, wallowers and weirdos who are there to be fucked
up the dirt-track, metaphorically speaking.
"I've got less and less inclined towards being some sort of colourful foodfor alot of other people to consume. Writing allows me to be myself andnot have to perform this filthyfunction which, no matter what Ido, isinherent in being lead singer for some freak group.
"I don't knowwhat the people who come and see me are like. I
don't
know what their reasons for doing anything are. Idon't know the reason
for the boy down the front who comes to each of our shows and screams
out, 'You're afucking arsehole!' Pays every nightto scream that at the group, and, if he gets achance, to punch me. He's not there to pickup
agirl, that's for sure."
Spotlights and the smell of greasepaint holdno charm for Nick Cave. Nor, he claims, does themoney amount to much.
"When you've finished aBritish tour playing
all these horrible places, like the worst prisonsin America, and finding that type of person at
every concert, after awhile you consider,'What's the benefit of doing this?' That person
becomes more important to you than the rest of
the audience. Idon't want to be over-dramatic
about it, but the whole thing seems to be an
obscene comic strip..."Sometimes, during this supremely painfulinterview, Nick Cave forgets himself and speaks
eloquently and animatedly about something outside
his immediate concerns -theAmerican prison
system, for instance, which he's been researching forafilm project in Australia. When Iask about God andthe afterlife, he becomes more guarded. All he'llvouchsafe is that he believes evil will not go ultimately
unpunished, even if it's rewarded on Earth.
But he soon reverts to being the sod with agrudge
and thin veneer of forced politeness.
"I'm just asensitive guy," he smiles inwardly. Very
inwardly. marsnow •verythingthat's said
against me,true or not,offends me"

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I91

July -OMER"The roof ison fire!"
PRINCE washlands
in London. Three nights
at Wembley Arena
confirm his status as ashowstopping artist
in the lineage of Little
Richard, James Brown
and Sly Stone. It's sexy,it's witty and above all
it's fun. "Let's burn thismotherfucker down!"

92

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

- MELODY MAKEE AUGUST 23 -T

HE WEEK WAS sheer hell. How to hang on to two
Prince tickets until Thursday? Keep them in theoffice and they'll walk, such was their rarity, such
was the envy of friend and foe alike. Keep them in
the wallet and Imight get mugged, some otherdude sweating and screaming in my seats. Keepthem in the flat and fire and theft or some act of God might
deny me the big one.
WEMBLEY ARENA
Thursday. An age away. And what if! managed to secure
ihr—.LONDON —those little perforated pieces of pure gold from all thepitfalls and He cancelled the last night? What if He came
down with Montezuma's revenge after enrapturing thefaithful midweek? What if He felt affronted, as He had
when He flew in for the Rock And Pop Awards acouple ofyears back, and cancelled? What if He were shot or, ohworse, just didn't playon awhhn? Christ, surely that was astrong possibility considering He was fruitcake enough toconsider the Marquee afunkyvenue for an after-gig party-down.
But Thursday came as Thursdays do, and we made it to Wembley
without afatal head-on or abusted big-end and the perspirationand panic set in. What if the hype did its horrible thing? What if the
expectation of alitany of delights forced every critical faculty into
overdrive and unleashed the adrenalised cynicism that can often
render spiteful disappointment?
Anyway, 8.20.A disembodied American voice asked ifwe'd pleasewelcome Prince And The Revolution and we decided yes, we would,
and howled so our ears hurt. From the South Grand Tier I
could hear
the snake-charming raga of "Around The World In ADay", but I
could see nothing. The bloody curtains remained closed for one
whole agonising verse until aJames Brown soul squall rent themasunder and there He stood in studded bell-bottoms and Spanish
Cuban heels, hair agreased-back '30s bolero crest, lips afruity
ShirleyTemple pout, hips apendulous Elvis thrust, smile sweet andwicked under rollin' Fats Waller eyes. Oh the eyes, big and bad as
moons, Bambi and Valentino, no woman was safe. And the navel;
the navel glistened, gorgeous and thin. We screamed. »•Prince in alemonzoot suit, the secondof several costumes
donnedduring theLondon leg of the
Parade TourHISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I93

1986 •
eity-siete R

August14,1986:Sting andRonnie Wood join Prince
fora rendition of the
Rolling Stones'"MissYou" on the last of threenightsetWernbley Arena

MICHAEL PUTLAND IGETTY"Around The World" watusied an intricate metamorphosis into
"Christopher Tracy's Parade" and The Revolution achieved with elegant
ease what others appear to find impossible: exquisite efficiencywithoutsterility, synchronisation with joy. For those of us reared on rockier ethics
than the predominantly soul-boy and girl audience, it came as someshock to discover that there still throbbed areal tactile thrill in creation
as opposed to chaos and destruction.
And what was He doing during these intense opening manoeuvres tracks dismissed on record by the purists as the great man's psychedelic
sell-out? He was hamming it up on the Hammond like Little Richard, allcute cocky grins and sugary snarls.
Abrutally boisterous "New Position" lubricated the innuendo andmelted into"I Wonder U" and His chest was revealed in one ecstatic
flounce before He bowed out to return jazz-mutilated moments laterin the white tux from Cherry Moon, wriggling into "Raspberry Beret",
Jerome Benton and the other extravagant back-up boys Uncle-Tommingwith Him into aridiculously deft choreography of dance routines,
grinning like born-agains, jiving like gigolos. IsawAstaire and Chaplin.
We screamed and screamed again.
And then I
wept. Copiously. The lights fell low, the band backed off
and suddenly, vulnerable amid the razzmatazz, Prince sang "Do Me
Baby" from the Controversy album. He sang like I've never heard anyone
sing before; he sang about love and lust, about their relationship, about
the politics of plonking. He sang as avictim and achieved coy command.
This man was fawning, for Chrissakes, standing there actually pleadingwith us to adore him, knowing, with all the wily power of his feminine
charms, that he had us trapped right where he wanted us, suckered in
our pity.
It was all too much for this hetero Anglo-Saxon boy and, boy, did I
weep.
But I
nearlygagged out at what he did to us next; cocking asnook at our
broken hearts, he swaggered into "(How Much Is That) Doggie In The
Window?" like some wanton, uncaring tart, then wrapped it up into aharsh and chinky "When Doves Cry".
Seated at the piano, he paused and made eyes at the girls showering
him with bouquets before he preened through acock-teasingly slow firstverse of "Little Red Corvette", twisting that around his little finger into thedebonair "Under The Cherry Moon".
The show was now switchbacking around the preposterous range ofPrince's talent; The Revolution were covering every ghetto imaginable
and every syllable was His own!

94 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

Pirouetting, strolling, disrobing, blue, black, white suits, doing the
splits, strutting that Broadway stuff, he'd done it all. And then there was"Head", the naughty fellatio celebration banned by the radio off the Dirty
Mind album. Lying astride the mic stand, fucking perfectly in time to the
humping beat, he did alittle mock-macho rap, we giggled along and it
wasn't cheap. Not once.
This was great theatre, great athleticism, great comedy all performed
with the greatest delicacy. It was almost as if it were sacred when hegrabbed aguitar and deliciously screwed it, licking the machine heads as
he casually sat, bare-chested, on the lip of the stage and coaxed little
flurries of loving jazz moans from the strings.
I
would have cried again but I
was rescued by the sheer cool velocity ofthe svelte "Kiss", that minimal gem of orgasmic Bo Diddley and the best
single this year alongside the League's "Human". "1999" belonged to thecrowd, Prince prancing, us baying.
Encore time and the only real doubt raised by His visit. Can it be thatHe, like any other mortal American, is stricken with such apaucity of
discernment that he can't see that hauling Ronnie Wood and Sting on
stage for aspirited run-through of"Miss You" (a song he'd said he wished
he'd written when he played it at the post-gig jam at Busby's on Monday) is
adecision lacking in all things hip? How could it be that this real andabsolute genius was getting mixed up with mediocre old lags like Eric
Clapton (Tuesday's party jam)? Some say He's amuso and lacks that vital
taste, but Ith ink he's beyond that. Ith ink he doesn't deign to worry about
who's supposed to be who or what's supposed to be what. Ith ink he's
probablyjust lonely up there above the clouds.
Still, "Miss You" afforded us the hilarious spectacle of Sting struggling
with abass solo (The Revolution bailed him out) and Wood struggling toplay in time or tune (ditto), and then there was "Mountains", thechurning chant pivoted on briskwelts of brass before another moving
exit and another encore, the adoring house hushed by the opening
strains of "Sometimes It Snows In April", an elegy so melodramatic itwould be ludicrous but for the utter conviction of the angelic voice
swooning under the burden of its imagined grief.
This is the uniqueness of Prince-he feels no shame. He brings an
uncluttered naivety, an obscene enthusiasm to the most overwroughtemotion and feels no embarrassment in laying it bare by laying it on thick.
The cliches peel back to the core of their impact under his caress likelayers off an onion, the spell of his sob choking me at the beauty of
witnessing someone doing something better than anyone else ever has.

PRINCE

After that it was inconceivable that He could give and Icould take any
more, Iwas so blissed out by the sorrow, so exhausted by the brilliance,
but "Purple Rain" pumped me erect for one last gasping climax, Prince
pinioned to the front of the stage, wailing and orchestrating that mighty
anthem to regret, arecluse luxuriating in the limelight one last time,
exhibiting his contradictions to the end.
There He was, tearing out the shattering guitar solo with the abandoned
exuberance of Hendrix and the clinical control of McLaughlin. There He
was, singing soul from his soul because he doesn't know any other way
and, without debasing it, being quite cheekilyvaudeville too, referring tohimself as "your little friend", sending himself up and taking us higher.
Two hours in the company of this ultimate showman, this complete
performer, this song-and-dance man, and all the desperate faith I'dmaintained in fickle pop made perfect sense.
Ihad astar in my eyes and amemory, forever, of heaven in my head.
SteveSutherland- NME AUGUST 23 -U

PUNTIL NOW for this listener, the artistic peaks of the great
performers of American black music have existed only in thecollective memory, on faded film reels or cold vinyl.
That doesn't prevent enjoyment of the reckless jive and bop of Louis
Jordan's R'n'B, the Baptist holler Little Richard turned into rollicking
sexual liberation, lames Brown's heart-rending, cape-clad soul
marathon-man sessions or Sly Stone's euphoric celebrations that chilled
into despair and recrimination. But hindsight tells only half the storymusic crystallises its true relevance when captured head on, when you
encounter aperformer who, in the shock and thrill of the present, creates
and takes control of the many freedoms etched in his sound and vision.
Such was the case with the opening performance of Prince's
three-night Wembley stint, before acharged, anticipative audience.
Akaleidoscopic glide through the sleazy and feted stereotypes ofAmerican culture, adazzling tour de force of rhythmic and melodic
inspiration and invention, the show staked and won him aplace in theselect pantheon of past pioneers. Not just because Prince subsumes somuch of the past and makes it his own, not just because he has balanced(and blurred) sexual roles and musical cross-pollination, betwixt
feminine and masculine, black and white, pop and progressive, but
because he's now assembled the many identities and self-made celebrityof his own career into auniform whole.
Prince's versatility and his sensitivity to his music's heritage has beenused to fuel his lust for an ongoing orgy ofstardom. So many fantasies, so little time:
escalating from androgynous disco beginningto the rudeboy high-school pop of Dirty Mind,from Controversy's media come-on lead tothe atom age starlet of 1999 and to the final
crowning glory of Purple Rain. That tour andalbum may have seemed like an end, arapturous confirmation, amerging of fantasy

the group unwind the feet-finding beat and wispy finery of "All Around
The World InA Day" from behind adrawn curtain.
And then: "Hey London, I
wanna dance..." Stripped to the waist, hairslicked back, Prince's bony torso has the cavorting impishness of asatyr,the bell-bottom strides are hung low but his buttocks barelybegin before
the midget frame is completed by lithe, elastic limbs. And dance he does,
the repertoire of stage moves are the most stunningly choreographed,dynamic and economic I've ever seen. And while there's lots of little stops
and starts, freezing the motion with ahawkish glint, anarcissistic hip
swivel and swooping full-length split, it's more than mere egotism, being
tuned into every switching nuance of the superb 10-piece band.
The guitar-grinding fixation that reportedly ruined his only previous
London performance is nowhere in evidence. It's the tight, clipped styleofWendy and Miko Weaver that predominate, Prince's lustrous flow isevident only on the closing "Purple Rain". The democracy has evidently
paid off. Reworking even recent material, The Revolution switch fromsonic otherworldly funk to horn-boosted big band jazz, one minutedelicately embossed with the allure of eastern promise, then bearing
down on some monster-stomping, Sly-scorched crescendoes. Their
scope, lust and flexibility perfectly complements the vaulting ambitionof their swaggering, scaffold-scaling leader.
Costume changes and semi-striptease acts abound: Prince's image
fixation goes beyond musical greats- he wants to be Gypsy Rose Lee asmuch as hewants to be James Brown, wants to be Rudolph Valentino asmuch as he patently is Little Richard's nuclear age offspring. After the
opening foray, he reappears in alemon zoot suit, trading off hipsterroutines with the spry backing-singer trio; the recurring horn motif is JB's
"Popcorn", the chant, "The roof the roofis on fire. We don't care, let themotherfucker burn down." The frantic thrust gives wayto the lush
libidinous ballad "Do Me Baby", mounting to asax-coaxed climax thatplays off his falsetto screech against gruff intimations. "When DovesCry", with its electro crank and tear-stained piano trickles, reconciles
emotional family ties with prosaic sexuality, an abiding scourge of many
asoulman but which Prince seems unbothered by.
"Another Lover" is ahighpoint for the band. Asong written withsophisticated instrumental setting in mind, it allows the boomerangbass, hovering horns and synthesized trickery to duel and establish fullindomitable range.
Reborn as acharming suitor in white tie, polka-dot waistcoat and afetching pair of stilettoes, the chameleon is soon shedding his skin. The
coquettish catcalls of "I Wanna Be Your Lover" become the prostrate
mic-straddling of "Head". Midway through slurping 'n' moaning into themic, still slithering and humping across thefloor, he stops: "Ifyou're taking any of thisseriously, you're abigger fool than Iam." Anicehumorous touch, as was the stagehand wiping
the floor clean after him.
Like everyone else, I've had my doubts about
Prince-his cosmic bullshit, the apolitical moral
vacuum, aNero fiddling while his beloved Rome(read "America") burns. And sure he's unlikely
to unleash the tension and angst that his forbear
Sly Stone did in There'sA Riot Goin' On. But once
you've seen the show, none of that matters.
Prince contrives alavish celebration and tributeto black culture, to those who dared break andcross barriers, to explicit beauty and sensuality
and to his own career, which has used all those

Prince's bony
torso has thecavorting
impishnessof asatyrwith actuality. But the psychedelic hues andjazzy inflections unfolded inAllAround The
World InA Day and consolidated on the best
bits of Parade showed he had awhole new bag
to swing.
Confirming his pre-eminence as an instigator
who keeps one step ahead of his peers has left
Parade-era Prince relaxed with his own past, imbuing his stardom withanew breadth and generosity. The persona is not just that of ararefied
being- he now becomes aspiv, demented diva, cocky pimp, lounge-bar
swing sultan, adance wizard combining The Godfather's grace withelectro-era calisthenics.
He may pledge allegiance to the Almighty, but Prince's whole show
revolves around the pleasures of the flesh. Amaster of crowd control...
the build-up, delay and the final, shattering climax.., this is private
fantasy made public property. The history of black music rewritten as the
eternal search forthe perpetualorgasm, the show
starts as it means
to go on-teasing
and provocative,

traits. Like any great showman, he pursues his obsessions with suchsingle-minded dedication and attention to detail that, for the duration,
the excitement and intrigue of his world becomes apart of the audience's.
My only quibbles- the 90-minute show was at least an hour shorter thanpre-publicity had led us to believe. Perhaps the showstopping finales, aperfect foil for his blinding stage flash, were overworked (alive recording
would benefit from the insertion of such Princely classics as "Dirty
Mind", "When You Were Mine", "Little Red Corvette"...). Apart from that-brilliant. I've never seen anything quite like it. Gavin martin •'THE FLESH AND THE SOW"Prince contrives alavish celebration andtribute to black culture, to those who daredbreak and cross barriers, to explicit beauty and

1986
JULY-

118 R

"I was fed upwith
people saying, 'God,
how did you get yourhair like that?":ashorn Robert Smithin summern,136

96

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

"Your little
fantasy
universe"
On the road in the US and France with THE CURE
Revealed: aband whose mystique is in fact Dun uu
foundation of curry, football, soap operas andtormenting Loll Tolhurst, who was "raised byanteaters" and is now owned by Robert Smith.

Tr ONE'S AB_ME' nrw el 4vrn AUGUST 30 —

cc-

adn
zi pe
ps
i
s
n
,
g
OK, s
oreeI
ygoSOfoLrUenpasnytcthheedcealic
camerain on the faces, in close, then down to guitar,then back to faces, really zipping..."Scene: Orange, Provence. An empty8,000-seater
Ancient Roman amphitheatre. The Cure are about
to run through "Primary", miming to atape of their capacity show,
recorded the night before. Tim Pope is loping around the lobe of the stage
like the fitful offspring of Olive Oyl and Vincent Price, craning his
considerable neckto peer through alens, clapping his hands to keep uprhythm and pace, adrenalising everyone. Pope is after something only he

aim
I
Mal
wag

r

111.

schizophrenically strong on'personality and erratically prone
to experimentation. People like himself.
Pope's aim is always sympathetic—to enhance the song
he's working with, to play with its inherent innuendos, todivert without damaging the kernel, the core. Hence "CloseTo Me" was shot in awardrobe. You can't get much closer
than claustrophobia. »ROSS MARINHO

can see. Pope is making amovie.
The relationship between band and boy-wondervideo rogue goes backthree years to "Let's Go To Bed", the first desperate, daft occasion inwhich
Smith's surreal humour was unleashed as visual relief from the vinyl task.
Since then, Pope and The Cure have been virtually inseparable. It's
impossible to think of "The Walk" or"Love Cats" or "Close To Me" without
feeling that the synchronised anarchy of Pope's bravely scatter-brained
technique hasn't, in some flighty sense, helped liberate Smith from theaustere image that was choking the creative life out of him.
Pope, for his part, will maintain the madness was there all along. He
refuses to work with anyone who doesn't wrig,glewith
character. Hisvideo portraits have included Neil Young,
MarcAlmond and the Banshees as well as The Cure, all acts

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I97

Now he's embarking on his first feature film and no one seems sure what
it's supposed to be, let alone how it'll turn out. Smith, who's financing it
himself through Fiction on the cavalier understanding that it'll be so goodthey'll have no trouble selling it, visualises somevague double result-a
concert video comprising the footage shot against the mighty impressive
pillared backdrop, and afull feature film using concert footage, previous
anecdotal clips and some scenes to be shot at alater date, lending the
project characters and plot, like aCure update ofA Hard Day's Night.
And Pink Floyd At Pompeii?
"Yeah, everyone's said that. Did you notice we played 'Set The Controls
For The Heart Of The Sun' at soundcheck?"Yeah. They played it. Perfectly.
The risks, of course, are many. Because of the limited budget, all the
live filming had to be done on Saturday, at the concert, with close-ups
following during Sunday's mock-up. Rain on one or both days would
have scuppered the whole thing-150,000 literally down the drainbecause they couldn't comprehend their cheapest insurance quote:£50,000! It didn't rain until Monday.
Then there's the venue itself. The amphitheatre is one of the oldest
in France, and not surprisingly, it's subject to paranoically strict
government protection. They generally allow occasional classicalconcerts here, high-brow stuff, nothing too popular, £50-a-ticket jobs
that take full advantage of the eerily crystalline acoustics without muchtroubling the neighbouring town with volume or mess.
The last rock concert permitted here was more than two years ago,
when Dire Straits had their sold-out second concert panic-cancelled by
the local council. The Cure's gig is very much ayardstick, set up by Paris
promoters to prove that pop is aresponsible way of making money thesedays, matured beyond all the attendant hullaballoo of revolution andvandalism. Meetings take place almost hourly between the promotersand one local official or another, but the only real hiccough occurs when
the security guards' over-zealous dobermanns chase an interloper off
the rock overlooking the theatre and he falls and sprains his ankle. The
intruder turns out to be the local police chief on aplain-clothes
reconnoitre and, as aresult, acurfew is imposed on Sunday's filming.
Shooting actually ceases at 3am.
"Has anyone got aclean sock? Abrightly coloured sock? Fluorescent?"
Then there's perhaps the biggest risk of all, working with Pope ¡namedium in which he's untried and untested. After all, the worst filmsof recent months have been over-extended videos- like Absolute
Beginners, all false with no foundation. Smith sees it this way: "Wewanted to film it as opposed to workingwith video, because every concert
we do now reaches apoint that has seemed unattainable in the past and!
wanted it captured forever, before we move on or give up.
"I don't think it's ariskworkingwith Pap (his nickname for Pope],
because he isn't really adirector. We could have got in some proper
director to make afilm of any old concert, but
he wouldn't know what the ba nd was about andIwant this to be aCure film about The Cure."
Pope himself would make afascinating movie.
Scuttling across the stage crabwise during
Saturday's show, he resembled some Igor figure,hunch-backed under the camera, fighting withthe equipment as much as focusing it,
determined to achieve the same dizzy effects heconjured on the videos. On Sunday, he even has
the camera back on the trapeze for "In Between
Days", launching it in, catching it inches from
Smith's lipstick leer. Ask him why film and he'll
say: "Because film's beautiful."
Ask Smith if he fancies himself as another De
Niro: "Strangely enough, I've been offered afilm
opposite Nastassja Kinski in the last two days. Iturned it down." Why?
"She's not my type of woman. Ha! Ha!"The Cure are the biggest here, number one. When their coach arrives at
the amphitheatre, the streets are literally lined with Smith lookalikes
circa "In Between Days" and they scream and grab just like Duranies,
each with his or her particular idol. The filming is nearly criticallyaffected when, during "Piggy In The Mirror" ("very appropriate",
according to Smith) adetermined young mademoiselle takes the security
by surprise and rushes onstage, bowling past the frontline and making abeeline for Boris who, oblivious behind the drum riser, just drums on.
She's apprehended before much damage is done but only rushes will
reveal whether she's immortalised forever on film, agate-crasher at The
Cure party.
After the show, the photographer and Iare hanging round like good
professionals, supping ice-cold Heinekens, waiting for the band to towel
down and all that, when we're approached by awinsome, flushed blonde
who's been allowed past the bouncers because she feels faint. She accepts
the photographer's chair and makes it understood, in passable pidgin
English, that she needs water. We oblige, though she still looks abit dicky
when suddenly Simon appears and she's up and at him, pestering,stroking his shoulders, babbling her love.
The tour manager heaves her out and it transpires she's been turning up
all over, conning her way into Simon's presence. Later, we travel to the
band's chateau, about 15 miles away in the middle of nowhere, and thephone rings in Simon's room. It's the girl's mother. She's got his number
somehow and she's concerned because her daughter's gone missing, withthe family's jewels! Simon returns the receiver pronto and heads for the
barwhere, sure enough, the girl appears. She's escorted out but she's stillaround the next day, lurking at the gates, watching, awaiting her chance.
CC I THINK THEY'RE HIGH on something or other" (English
tourist to his daughter, Sunday afternoon, Orange).
Flashback.
Scene: The lobby of afirst-class hotel in Boston, Mass. Two hours
previously, The Cure completed the first show of theirAmerican tour,
and-by means of celebration, or maybe that was just ahandy excuse- Loldrank abottle of Armagnac brandy all by himself.
He's nowpassed out on abaggage trolley beingwheeled around thefoyer by the rest of the band. Porl is filming his nodding head, his
glistening face, his private parts, anything that takes his fancy. The desk
clerk doesn't bat an eyelid.
Lol is taken to his room, deposited on his bed and his door is left slightly
open for regular inspections should he decide to do aHendrix, or shouldthat be aMama Cass?
An hour later, aposse decides to check on his progress and finds him
snuggled down in the corridor outside his room. Abrief investigation
reveals that Lol had risen in his stupor, pissed in acupboard, and thencurled up on the landing-everything right in all wrong places. Veryunderstandable.
He's placed back on his bed, snoring blissfully,
and further checks are made on the hour, every
hour until it's too much trouble-the rest of thecrew approaching Lol's condition themselves.
Come their morning- alate lunchtime callLol's found to have risen in the night and, quitesensibly, being asecurity-conscious sort ofchap, he's fastened all the chains on the insideof his door. The rest try to rouse him-his
phone's off the hook and repeated banging on"I've beenoffered afilm
opposite
N:astassja
Kinski"cc

I

I HE CROWD LAUGHED and cheered him on as he stabbed
himself repeatedly in the chest."
Scene: San Francisco. Yes, it did happen, but not, of course,
quite as the papers said. The Cure were about to take the stage when
there was some commotion near the mixing desk and aderanged whitemale of indeterminate age plunged aknife into himself. Police eventuallystunned him with atranqu ilising dart and carted him off in the meatwagon. It's not that bad in France-but almost.

98 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

the door renders no response. Eventually, in
exasperation, ahotel porter is summoned tohacksaw the door open. "Dalas' time I
did this,da guywas dead," he grins.
Lol's inside though, sage and sound, still out
for the count. Three minutes of ferocious shaking and he's back among
them. He'd been on the phone to his girlfriend (he finds out later). She

was in LA, he couldn't speak, but she'd listened anyway as he fell asleep
cradling the receiver. His phone bill on checking out was 1,500 dollars.
Another Cure legend. Another day on the road.
Chris Parry, Fiction boss and Cure Captain Pugwash, has this theory
that The Cure have only ever existed to kill Lol. Sometimes this seems
plausible. Sometimes this even seems to be working. Certainly, he's the
butt of arelentless barrage of buddy abuse, the reluctant jester in the
court of king Cure, accustomed to his niche even if, in the deepest of
hangovers, the banter still niggles.

never told you the story of howwe found him? Simon andIwent on one of those school trips, y'know, educational
holidays, to Africa, and one daywe discovered Lol in thebush. He'd been brought up by anteaters and half his face
had been eaten off by ants.
"Well, Simon and I, we felt sorry for him, so we brought
him back with us and paid for plastic surgery, fed him
soup under piles of earth and all that, and how does herepay us? He sneaked ferrets under his skin, that's what
he did, sneaked ferrets under the plastic surgery."All this is revealed as an explanation for the magnificent
gamut of contortions Lol had run his face through theprevious evening before retiring rather tired and pretty
emotional. We're in the bus now, Smith and Simon close
to tears with laughter, Porl offering to illustrate the story
with drawings (he went to art school, you know). Lol's up

May 22,1986,
Smith and Lol
Tolhurst on the
Orient Express,
where they areinterviewed byMark Ellen for
Whistle Testlk
and runupa£2,000 bar bill

the front.
"You don't believe us? OK. Who owns you, Loz?"
Simon shouts.
"You do. And Robert," Lol answers, good-natured,world-weary.
"And how's that, Loz?""Because you found me in the bush being brought up byanteaters," he states, deadpan. "In your little fantasy universe, that is."Smith has been quoted as saying that, should Lol ever leave, The Curewould be over. I
think Iknowwhat he means. However else would thebackstage open-air band hospitality area boast an honest-to-goodness
cigarette tree? Areal Burl Ives "Big Rock Candy Mountain" job? The
explanation is perfectly simple.
It seems Lol smokes too much -chain-smokes, according to Smith so while he's setting his keyboards for the Orange gig, Smith and Simon
hollow out apacket of Marlboro, stick all the cigarettes on atree withmasking tape like baubles on branches at Christmas, and carefully reseal
the boxwith amessage inside.
Sure enough, hours later, Lol snaps the Cellophane on the packet. He
shakes his head, pities their puerility and picks afag off the tree.
H MY GOD, they've got anew singer!"
Scene: NewYork, Radio City.
Ah yes, that haircut. Fans threatening suicide. Fromacluster of Triffids to aburnt field of stubble in one wanton sitting.
Barb (er)aric. Why, oh why?
"I was fed up with people saying, 'God, how did you get your hairlike
that?' so, before I
went to America, Ithought, 'I'll get you,' and Ihad it cut

CCoff. The paradox, of course, is that now people talk about the hair evenmore. It's all they talk about.
"Everyone hates it. Ihate it most. It's the most unattractive haircut.
Ijust about recognise myself in the mirror now, now it's grown alittle.
Still, it makes no difference to me and, if it does to other people, well,Ihope they die. Actually, though, it's horrified Pap. The hair was thewhole base of his film."
Hence the wig?
"Uh... the wig... Idon't know how... or why..."I
should explain. When he's not sporting aparticularly natty Donovancap ("Someone threw it, it hit me, it fits"), Smith's wearing aSpinal Tap
syrup which, when teased and caressed and kicked around the garden,
uncannily approximates his pre-snip follicular edifice.
It was Pope's idea, presumably, that Smith should wear it on the walkout to the stage, only for Simon to snatch it off before the cameras at thevery last moment? "Something like that, yeah."("(

D

ESMOND LYNAM IS God."
Scene: Orange, backstage. Reminiscing. The World Cup.
Smith's gloomy predictions of English pedantry in the Maker

were, sadly, all too accurate, but he still wears that England shirt withpride. Indeed, when the band were due to do some French TV on the dayof the Paraguay game, Smith refused to cross the Channel unless he was
guaranteed access to live coverage of the match.
The French commandeered acinema and set up alink, Smith andSimon, fullykitted out and bottled up, dancing in the aisles after Lineker's

glorious third. There's been amarked metamorphosis in The Cure during
the past two years, something sane and necessary has happened,something to do with Simon rejoining. Smith has cannily (or casually)
made alot of meals out ofvirtually nothing by virtue of his bizarre
beginnings. If his early career pursued aspiral into darkness and despair,
an introverted, weird world of enigma, how much weirder that the bandshould now emerge football fanatics.
They can carryon the way they like now, become anyone they want,because anything they do breaches the code of preconception which,once cemented, takes years to crack. Their embracing of EastEnders andthe everyday seems subversive, asnub to those who insist on Smith
retaining the role of psychic guru, but then again, it's not in his nature to
do things by halves and his normality has acquired the frenetic status ofsatire, of bloated caricature, of- as they put it-Mr Blakeys.
Smith, for example, has just edited ascratch video of The Price Is Rightfor Simon inwhich Leslie Crowther's every gesture is repeatedly
scrutinised. "Sheer heaven," says Simon. "Sheer hell," says Lol.
When Smith decides to go swimming in the Med at midnight, he can't
just take adip like everyone else, he has to swim miles out of sight.
"Yeah, I
was trying to be Mark Spitz," he says.
"I've never been so worried in my life," says Mary, his girlfriend.
In any event, he swallowed agutful of briny and has suffered gypwith his guts ever since. Which, incidentally, doesn't deter him for one
moment from the band's main preoccupation these days-curry.
Pining in foreign climes for their prawn madras and pilau, the band
have done their utmost to rustle up some Indian nosh. Booking in at theSunset Marquee in LA, they were convinced it was aself-catering hotel
and spent afortune on the ingredients for aright Bombay slap-up. But
when Smith and Simon entered their room, there were no pots and pans,no utensils in sight.
Simon was despatched to the kitchens, and in his absence, Smith
discovered.., no stove! Simon went "all boo-hoo" and cried his eyes out,
so they ate the ingredients cold and raw, washed down with ample amber
nectar. This, it seems, accounts for the pinup pasted to the seat facing
Simon on the tour bus- apicture of anice biryani cut from amagazine. At
moments of utter stress, the bassist has been known to beat his headagainst it and cry, "Why, why, why?"
Determined not to face defeat again, the band decided to have frozen
rubies sent over to the studio near Toulouse where they now go to record
the next album. But what about the record?
"Well, we've demoed about 15 songs and it all sounds great. We've beenplaying one, 'I Want To Be You', on the rest of the tour and, as we'rerecording out of the country, away from the distractions, it'll just be us
and the Mrs Blakeys, so it'll probably turn out to be avery odd album, forachange! It's perfect, in fact, because we should just finish recording tocoincide with the beginning of the European championships."
Strangely strange but oddly normal. SteveSutherland •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I99

RICHARD YOUNG /REX FEATURES

I've never seen Lol actually blow under the stress andscandal, but Smith smiles and reckons he sometimes
comes close: "I've never told you about Lol, have I? I've

1986

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conversational net widely andwith great humanity. "There's
nothing worse than athick poshperson," he concludes, sagely.

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HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I101

M

NME UGUST30-

ARK ESMITH, weaned on Lenny Bruce's speedfuelled monologues, the self-confessed big shot
original rapper, picks asubject and he's off. Drugs
seem agood place to start.
"I don't think heroin is any good, it's crap, ahorrible drug. But I've got to say it-if someone
wants to smoke themselves to death or drink themselves to death withwhisky, jump out of windows or whatever, then it's their basic right. I
always thought that was what Britain was all about. It sounds like anutty
anarchist idea, but alot of it is down to education and alot of it Idon't reallycare about. Anyone who gets into heroin must be pretty weird anyway.
"Have you ever seen anyone on it? They sweat and snuffle like little
piglets. Imagine paying money to be like that -you'll find out what it's likewhen you're 90 anyway."
While the national draconian drug backlash finds favourwith pop
culture's stuffed shirts, The Fall release "Mr Pharmacist" -acover of
Texan garage punks The Other Half's '60s speed anthem- as their new
single.A sort ofAmerican "Here Comes the Nice". It's blessed with acareering, euphoric rush and all the subtlety of ascorched sinus.
"I've always really liked bands like that-the sort that just make one goodsingle and then disappear. It's better than all this tedious three-hour
hippy shit like Grateful Dead that seems to be coming back into vogue."
But hardly likely to get much airplay.
"Ifyou worried about things like that you'd probably never releaseasingle. Imean, if The Kinks released 'You Really Got Me' tomorrow,
Idoubt it would get played. Unless they remixed it, of course. Actually
it's an anti-drug song," smirks Smith.
Nothing of the sort, of course. It's The Fall on afun run awayday, still
sticking in the craw, underlining pomposity and hypocrisy in Britpop;
pricking the prevailing mood of compassion and concern.
"It was obvious with Boy George. Every interview he did, he'd make apoint of denying drug use. Now it's going to be My StruggleAgainst Evil,some dickhead spoiling it for everybody else. Idon't mean him anyharm,
but he's had all the good stuff, hasn't he? They always get it.
"But Idon't understand how he can be held responsible for influencing
his fans. I
like Elvis Presley's records, some ofthem anyway, but it doesn't mean I'm going to
eat five hamburgers aday.
"The British love it, aman down on his lucktrying to get back up. But it enrages me-his
whole career has been based on slagging
everybody else who took drugs.
"It's just like Pete Townshend. Ispit at the
TVwhen he's on. How dare he tell teenagers,'I've had all the good things in life-wine,
champagne, beer, any drugyou like-but
they're all bad foryou'? In other words, what
he's saying is, 'I've used them to the point
where they don't work anymore and the only
way Ican get myfun now is by moralising about
it.' Ifind it revolting."

An enjoyable Fall performance, packed with abrace of nowfamiliar
songs from the forthcoming album presently titled Bend Sinister, but it stilllacks that confrontational tension that makes the group reallyspecial.
"Halfway through Icould feel the band going along with the groove andthe audience. That's fatal; Ialways try to steer clear of that area where you
start seeingwhat little tricks can be dug up to take the audience higher.
You get to the stage where the group is enjoying it more than the audience.
"Being on stage shouldn't be apleasure, it should be like your craft. I
don't consider it performing at all, performers are like other people to me.
It's the same with writing, too. There should always be afear involved ofwhat you're doing, afear that maybe you shouldn't be there at all."He doesn't do much onstage. There's no projection, no smiles or
emotion etched across those sunken cheek and jowls, barely aflicker
from his graveyard eyes. At times it seems he's summoned up asoundfrom his cohorts that is taking aterrible toll on his soul; other times the
lyrics find flight in the whi rlwind and he looks dead natural, relaxedalmost-it's the struggle that makes him the focus, makes him so
fascinating to watch.
Smith dreamed this band up 10 years ago, and now he's their only
surviving member. The great, loyal Karl Burns left early this year amid
rumours of debilitating personal problems and agrowing, violent
antagonism between him and Smith. Other members may come and go,
but it's Mark who has the final say. His vision of cultural revolution,
wresting rock from the hands of southern English media stylists andtransplanting it in anorthern wasteland where spirit and class conflict
became constants, may have developed dramatically in recent recordings,
but his own reputation as an uppity, contrarybastard has remained.
Whatever he may say, there's apart of Smith that still relishes thisreputation. He stalks the backstage area, along, stringy figure in blackleather coat, permanently slouched, beer bottle in hand. The heads turnas he passes.
"People are quite surprised when they find out I'm ahalfway decent
sort of bloke, and Ido always try to be nice to anyone Icome across, butsometimes you end up being taken advantage of. That's why I
wrote thatnew song, 'MES In Shoulder Pads' -when someone comes down on me,
react by coming down twice as hard."
Nonetheless, agarrulous easy-going urban dweller with awife andmortgage, Smith has mellowed.At Sneekwave
he meets and befriends Three Johns' Jon
Langford, for along time the recipient of his
wrathful bombast.
Amajor reason for his new, conciliatory
attitude is 23-year-old wife of three years andFall guitarist Brix Elise Smith. Not since thedeparture of Kay Carroll, former manager andgirlfriend, has anyone been allowed so much
input into The Fall. The product of awell-to-do
American family, Brixwas still at school when
her parents separated and she subsequently
moved from LosAngeles to Chicago. Many
consider she's only in the group because she's
married to his nibs and provides apublic profile
previously denied The Fall.
But apart from her own independent
outfit The Adult Net and arecent offer tosupply asoundtrack for Texas Chainsaw
Massacre 2, Brix has also written themusic for "Riddler" and "US 80's- 90's",
two standouts on the new album. Back in
Los Angeles, one of her closest friends
was Sue Hoffs, now lead singer withThe Bangles, and Brix has apeculiarly
American drive to make The Fallsimilarly recognised. On the way back to
the hotel, crammed into awhite Transit
van while an electric storm raged all
around, I
asked Mark how many copies
the group's last LP sold.
"Forty thousand?A hundred thousand?
Who knows! Inever bother asking, to tell
you the truth."
Back at the hotel, Brix corners me inthe lobby.

"Being onstage shouldn't
be apleasure,it should be
like your craft"F

ROM THE TRAIN window,
rural Holland is atangle ofidyllic life-size toytowns,
windmills, waterways, playhouses
and genial folk on bicycles. In ameadow deep in the heart of theflatlands, decked out for the day withthe trappings of avillage fête, The Fallare playing the annual Sneekwave
Festival. The glorious sunshine andlaid-back ambience is anincongruous setting for The Fall's
brand of pummelling intensity,
ruthlessly addictive razor riffs andSmith's demonic incantations.
"It's abit sleepy here, always is,"Smith says later. "They're spoilt inaway. It's not their fault, they justsee too many groups."
102 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

"I don't want to sell 40,000 records, Iwant
to sell amillion. Mark isn't really bothered
about this, but I
want to get to all thosepeople who aren't hearing the records. It
doesn't really mean anything unless you"I don't consider
it performing ataII": M ark ESmith
on stage,1986

get agold disc."I
say it's good she's there, pushing for it.
"Yes, but what can Ido about it?"
What indeed? For all their resilience andcontinuing excellence, The Fall seemed tohave reached alevel of acceptance it'sdifficult to imagine them rising above. One
of my favourite lines in aFall song is "Thereis no culture is my brag". Typically dualedged, it could mean that the prevailing
pop culture is so impoverished as to beirrelevant or that the notion of culture as
aseries of systematic marketing strategies
is wholly fatuous. Smith's career has been
dedicated to his own notion of culture, of
cool- alegacy of enduring indolence andwithering depictions of British life andclass matched only by Madness. But it'sunlikely his insular language and theabrasive world he's created will ever court
the favour of the mainstream.
The Fall cover their tracks quickly; astimes have got more complex, the literalminded ness and dogma of their peers has
been rejected. The feisty rumble andangular approach of old has grown intoaclenched mire of sound, trappingyou
deeper than ever in Smith's universe; afine
policy for Britain's most consistently
imaginative and inventive rock band, now
exploring the virtues of implosion as well as
explosion, intimacy as well as animation.
Some complain that there's nodirect meaning in Fall songs, butthey miss the point. In this world,moods are conjured up then split
asunder; the words, often just noises
to get the line across, don't represent
one sacrosanctviewpoint but avariety of characters and opinions.
The beer-addled ogre of "TheClassical", the apathetic suburbaniteof "Living Too Late" or the shaman
behind "What You Need"...
Continuing the towering successof The Wonderful And Frightening
World and This Nation's Saving
Grace, Bend Sinistercasts The Fallsound even further to provide
remedies for jaded ears -"TheRiddler" is abrooding folk chant delivered from the depths of delirium,"MES In Shoulder Pads" is organ-pepped, jokily self-deprecating
Europop and "US 80's -90's" is my personal favourite- afuturistic rap
trap with avision of past, present and future repression in The Land Of
The Free applied and accepted by "codes ofsilence".
Praise should also go to The Fall members who amassed thevoluminous soundscapes, "the well-produced bedroom sound", asSmith calls it. Young drummer Simon Wolstencroft, bassist Stephen
Hanley, guitar FX man Craig Scanlon and Simon Rogers, whose batteryof synth/computer and classical training also earns him money scoringsoundtracks at the BBC and, hopefully, soon in feature films. It's saidMark treats them dictatorially.
"Only abit, it's not like some Kevin Rowland-type loony. They can dowhat they like; I
only get on their backs when they start shouting at
roadies or behaving like bloody rock stars. They do it for pure love, really;
it's quite touching in away. Ithink they get alot more out of it than me;
when Icome off stage it's abig weight off my shoulders."
Yet he's still the one who gets all the acclaim.

THE FALL.

ik.PHARMPCISTLUCIFER UER
LANCASHIRE"I think they should get more notice, but that's not really up to me.
You get people who try to interview the rest of the band and they
deliberately say nowt because they know they're being patronised."

I

NTHE MOST penetrating analysis of the Smith muse I've
yet read, Mark Sinker (writing in The Wire) revealed how
ingestion of hallucinogens and the sighting of ghosts inadolescence were decisive factors in shaping Smith's grotesque Fallcountry. Afrightening time?
"No, I
was interested to think and read about ghosts, so! wasn't scared.
Mind you, if! saw one now I'd freak out. The same with acid: I
liked to goplaces, do things with it, but now Icouldn't handle it. It was afunny timein my life, but it was good to have, ashame to lose it in away. But even now
Ican feel an atmosphere when Igo into aplace. Like in Berlin, man, youknow something horrible happened there, there's so many bad stories
just hanging in the air.
"But Ithink the occult is amorbid fascination. That's what got me out of
it all. In Manchester Iused to know alot of psychics, Kay [Carroll, former
manager and girlfriend] was psychic. It's afunny thing- alot of psychics
never have any money and they always have bad luck. They're like vessels
on the world, it travels through them but doesn't stickwith them."
Religion is usually embraced by those who can't come to terms withsuch experiences, but the new song "Terry Waite Sez" -where the »HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I103

continent-hopping emissary is said to be doing his good deeds because
he can't cope "with the pressure ofhis own life" -suggests Smith was not
one of those.
"No way, my dad hated it ifvicars came to the door. He'd slam it in theirface before they could say aword. My grandad is even worse, he'sobsessively anti-church, wants to burn them all to the ground. S'funnywith old fellas, either they must have been really screwed up by it or theyknow more about it then we do. I
guess they must have had it hard in themdays, must have had to do what the church said in alot of things."
Aren't you impressed by the clergy speaking out on social issues, then?
"You must be joking. The English church is the most ridiculous thing
in the world, it's hilarious. Ithink being avicar must be such agood job,
areal easy job to have. What Ican't understand is why the COf Ehad thePope in their church when he came over. Why did they bother splitting up
in the first place? What Idon't like about it all is that they seem to be trying
to get people back into church. Imistrust it all-people think they have got
to say something. It's abig disease of our time, pressure groups. They
cause alot of trouble."
So they should just sit back and let the powers that be get on with it?
"No, I'm not talking about things like SouthAfrica. People thinkbecause some loony writes into the paper that's what alot of people think,when in fact 99 out of 100 people never form groups. People are told tohave opinions on things they'd never have thought about in amillion
years, be it anti-smoking or anti-cheese. Some people have nothing
better to do than interfere with the freedoms in other people's lives. I
think it's dead evil; it's not amatter of left or right, it's just dead wrong."
Mr and Mrs Smith spent Christmas with Brix's parents in America.
When they're not watching endless re-runs of The Twilight Zone, it affords
Mark achance to examine the upper echelons of US high society. Whenhe first visited the States five years ago, he reckoned it was amuch more
open society than Britain, anotion he's since discarded.
"I always say to US immigration when theywon't give us our visas, 'Do
November8,1985:
SmithwithThe Fall,
includinghiswifeBrix(right),onChanne1.4
popshow The Tube

104 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

you think we'd want to live in this dump?' Isincerely mean that- even ifI
was amillionaire, I
wouldn't live there. If you've no money there, you're
ashit; at least in Britain they pretend to your face you're OK. Ifind thecallousness horrible."
But surely it's getting the same in Britain?
"Yeah, it's the same sort of soullessness. Part of that is British people
believing what they're told, like the Dutch give you shit for beingviolent
and aggressive. Today Iwas just waiting for someone to mention South
Africa, and I
would have said, 'It's your fucking problem, mate. The rulingparty are all Dutch."
But the English descendants are hardly any different.
"Theywere in Rhodesia, they gave it back to them. S'al right there now,
it works well. You'd never get that in South Africa, because it's the Dutch,
the Boers."
The original Orangemen?
"That's right. It makes me laugh. If Britain did the right thing-sent anarmy in to depose the government- all these bastards would go, 'Fucking
aggressive warmongers.'"That's what's great about Britain, people are really guilty about South
Africa-which is really healthy. At least people are thinking about it,
whereas here people don't even think about it. But Idon't know about
sanctions. Sanctions is the business mind's magic word and I
don't thinkthey'd give ashit about it. They're so fuckin' bluff, they're goading Britain
onto sanctions, so Idoubt they'd make any difference.
"What you want is atask force there; that's what the UN should be for.
It's like Hitler-they should've stopped him but they didn't. The UN isacon anyway; we're paying money so that they can put British workingclass people out of work."
Just like the Common Market?
"Yeah, what acon that was. I
voted yes on that. Do you remember? They
put it across that only an extreme nutcase would even consider voting no.
So even I
was persuaded."THE FALL

• •

.

_Lyrj

,.

"The whole thing's bizarre, at least six of them have
In last year's Christmas issue of NME, Smithbeen areal struggle for us, like abad accident you justexposed his flair as asubculture critic (an underlying
want to forget, pure fucking sorrow really. People ask
theme in many Fall songs) in aprose piece. He admitsmehowwe recorded such and such andto having found it "bloody hard" to write.
LUCIAW
144 HEYI
can't even remember writing the fucker.""I used to write alot of prose on and off. When we were It
But despite aparallel development to all the others
doing Hex, I
was doing stories all the time and the songs
from the class of '76 and areluctance to relive past glories,
were like the bits left over. Ithought, 'This is crazy, you're
the tag of ProleArt Threat still follows
taking yourself too seriously, like Norman
him around.
Mailer but writing for no actual gain.
"I hate that image of me hating everything"I always worry about Nick [Cave] -he thinks
that's middle class. I
can go on about it all day,I'm being sarcastic. Isay, 'You should write
mind you, but it's horrible when people areabook, but don't put all that stuff in it because
frightened of you because of it. Really they're
it's rubbish.'just other people with their own set of"Writing abook must be dead hard -you don't
problems. Iremember reading an interview
get any feedback for two years and when you dowith agroup who said everybodywho went toit might be bad. You never have any judgement
Eton should be shot. 'Fuckin' hell,' I
thought,
on it, most of the people who bring out books are'I don't envy anybodywho had to go to Eton,
bloody charlatans anyway, it's disgraceful.
that's punishment enough, surely.'"My approach to writing has definitely"But it is amazing when you do college gigs
changed. I
used to get into the serious thing ofandyou get some 19-year-old social secretaryloads of words, couldn't get enough into asong.
talking to you like aschoolteacher. Suddenly
You end up dead pretentious.
everything just boils up -I remember getting"That's what I
like about 'Riddler' -it's deadone little twat and dangling him out the window. I
couldn't believe
slow and there's not alot said in it, but it sort of stops people in their tracks.
anyone would still dare talk to people after that.
I
always remember we used to shout 'Riddler' when we were kids in"A lot of that is aclass thing, people telling others what's good for them.
Salford, but I
can't remember what for, it's still asort of mystery."I
hate
it when they're thick as well; there's nothing worse than athick
Afolk tale of adifferent kind supplied the background for anotherposh person.
new song, "Dktr Faustus", aduet betwixt he and Brix.
"People go on about Europe and how great it is, and they say get rid of the"I don't really like working with other voices, but 'Faustus' is OK
monarchy. But when you have the middle class in charge you've got the
because the mix is fucked up -the backing vocals are at the level thegerms for areal evil society. People forget that the SS weren't skinhead
lead vocals should be. It works because it sounds like hell straining tothugs, they were doctors and lawyers, guys with agrudge. Give me thebreakthrough.
Queen anyday.""People go tome, 'Is that Faustus by Goethe or Faustus by Mann?', but
Adisgustingwaste of money.
Iread it in afairytale book. Somebody gave me acopy of this Goethe book
"I agree, but it affects your whole outlook. What do you want, to have her
and the drawings of Faustus are the spitting image of me. But Icouldn't
on abicycle eating chips like they do in France, punishing her with halfcope with the book, too hard. Not that I'm asimple fellow or anything, but
the dole rate?"
you have to give those things alot of time."
Fair enough, aday's workwouldn't harm the royal family.
In his songs Smith is awriter with arapper's quick-witted spontaneity,"I'm not fucking crying for them, but when you're richyou can't work forarapper with awriter's breadth and alacrity. Does he see similarities
aliving. It's not their fault, they've just been brought up acertain way.
between electro-rap and The Fall?
"I always thought what the working classes did in rock was very
"I like the way it's totally non-musical. Idon't like Run DMC at all, Ilike
interesting. I
sound like ableeding Marxist, but I
thought it was weird thatthe poppy stuff like Whodini and the jokey stuff like The Get Fresh Crew.
even bands that were good always pretended to be Yanks and sing about
Objectively, it's like some of The Fall stuff, the way these guys have theCadillacs when British life is just as interesting.
arrogance to believe that people will be interested in these long raps
"That's one of the good things about the last 10 years in music, even The
about what socks they put on. It's dead humorous and bitter-I like that.
Clash were good for that; people forget howweird that was when they
But !think it's getting like reggae and rock'n'roll did in their early days,
mentioned London in asong back then. But you have to go on from that or
most of the best stuff has come and gone.""Adverts areagood dealof what's
responsible for
ruining youth"

Once it gets co-opted into adverts, the danger signs alight.
"Adverts have gone to new heights of disgustingness, I
think they'reagood deal of what's responsible for ruining youth. I
hate it, hate thecultural implications of it. All these smart people are going into it andthey treat it like art. You see one for training shoes and there's bleedin'
Wagner in the background, more money spent on it than the rest of the
TV schedule.
"I'm not against it altogether, but you can see alot of young people feel
really useless and it's because of the adverts. You must remember when
we was kids adverts didn't even touch on youth, whereas teenagers today
feel totally inadequate. They need £.10 aweek just to start looking cool.
And it's usually rubbish, dead tatty.
"All the reallytalented guys who in other times would be making films
are going in there and being really smug. Frankie typified that for me,
false smartness, using the media, all that situationist garbage about
getting into the system. All the symbolism and secret jokes.
"It affects everything, it ruins pubs. Imean, Iobject to this thing thatsays bitter drinkers are moronic thugs. So you go to apub now and you
get all these working-class lads fitting into some adman's image of whatworking- class yobs should be like."
So there's no product you'd like to endorse or be sponsored by?
"Oh certainly, not Swatch watches or anything like that; even lager isgetting alittle hackneyed now. Personally I'd like to do something withcigarettes. That would get up afew noses."
Like everyone else, Smith is sick and tired of the whole 10 -years-sincepunk palaver.

else you end up writing 'Panic'."
Did you consciously set out to write about the working class in rock?
"Well, I
didn't know anything else; you don't knowwhat you've neverhad. Like most people in this country, I
was brought up to believe you'rein the best off, freest, greatest society in the world. Did you get that inNorthern Ireland?"Well, you're given high expectations.
"I don't think they'd do that now, even here, the way the country's split,
total hatred between the north and south. I
mean, even 10 years ago
Sheffield, Liverpool and Birmingham were like bustling cities.
"But the old people still believe it, that's why LiveAid was so popular.
Me grandma's there on £10 aweek and she's going, 'Oh, those poor
African people.' She's got great sympathy for everyone else. Which isquite beautiful in away. Poor people in Britain are the most passionate
people in the world.
"Like in that programme Granada did showing the different stagesof life for schoolkids from the '60s. The working-class kids were soconcerned for the well-off ones, worried about the pressure they were
under. They didn't envy them at all. Scousers are like that too, your real
Scouser that's been there afew generations, real gentle people, like Harry
Cross except nice. They go on about justice, like one of our fans who went
up to G-Mex to see us. He's going, 'Ten years to celebrate, celebrating allthese crappy bands making it, they should be crying. Ten years to
produce these horrible groups, it's terrible.' He was really concerned for
us and he'd practicallywalked from Liverpool to see the show. We'regoing, 'It's alright, mate. It's not that bad. - Gavin Martin •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I105

1986
JULY -OBE R'A matterof style"
MILES DAVIS isn't content to rest on his
past achievements. Acting cameos. Anewlabel. Acollaboration with Prince. Achat
about his new album covers all these —notto mention the musical transgressionsof Sting, which he can't understand.
"Maybe if I
was white," he says.

— "DAVID REDFERN /GETTY

C'C'

106 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

M

SEPTEMBER 20e

YCOLOUR- I'm black, brown with alittle
red orange in my skin. Red looks good onme, also things that shine.
You do the same with music. If you're
gonna make it pleasing to yourself and,in turn, somebody else, you play notes
to match your sound, your tone."From the loose gravel rasp of his speaking voice to the haunting purityof the most syndicated horn in jazz, the black silk and gold brocade of his
costumes- his passion for all Kinds Of Blue- Miles Davis is preoccupied
with the personal politics of hues and harmonics.
Celebrating 40 years of tirelessly making the running, the man Miles
continues to pioneer new musics and promote the careers of eageryoung
players. It's adual role-part tutorial, part vampiric. The bottom line:
what Miles wants, he takes.
And, seven hours later than arranged, he takes 30 minutes out of his
whistle-stop schedule to press the flesh and chew the fat.
The location: apale-green anteroom in Montreux's sedate Palace Hotel.
Outside, the earlyevening air is damp and humid. Afine mountain rain
begins to fall as the mist rolls in over the still waters of Lake Geneva. It's
asetting more appropriate for illicit encounters or treasonous activities
than aMiles Davis progress report.
With the heel of his right hand firmly under his chin -four bony fingers
pressed over his lips-Miles pushes his head right back, lie's emphasising »

21

iv

e
s.

**Everybody
wantstolabel
everything":
MilesDavison
stagein1986

HISTORY OF ROCK 19861107
ay.

1986

R

apoint. He's discussing Sting andwhat Miles insists has been the
flagrant misuse of four of today'sfinest musicians in the ex-Policeman's
Blue Turtle band.
"You can't take aguy like Darryl Jones[Miles' former bassman] and put
amuzzle on his drive.., muzzle the way
he plays."
The tempo of Miles' speech is slowyet
precise. "The only reason you hire great
players like Darryl, Branford [Marsalis],
Omar [Hakim] and Kenny [Kirkland] isbecause of their spirit.., because of theway they play, not because of the way
you play.
"You definitely don't hire them for the
purpose of trying to make them soundwhite.., and that's what happened. If
Sting doesn't want what they got to offer,then he might just as well hire somewhite folk... Better still, use asequencer!
"Sting might be doin' something!" heconcedes, but argues, "When Ilook at that band,
Isee great players and someone shutting 'em up."
He pauses, and thoughtfully rubs his chin.
"I wouldn't use 'em like that...but I'm not white!"
When, next day, Branford Marsalis is informedon the musings of Miles, he is noticeably
shocked. But, with ashrug of the shoulders, heattempts to make light of the situation.
"That's Miles, isn't it?"
Most certainly.

I"Robben has the knack of playing
the right things in the right style at theright moment. Another thing he has
going for him-he doesn't overplay.
He's an exceptional musician...
arare find. Some nights, I
just end
up listening to him."
Recommendations don't comemuch higher.

1"Most blackguys can only
play like Jimi
IIendrix, andnot too long"

FTUTU, HIS masterful funk-filled Warner
Brothers debut, honours the good African
Archbishop, the title of Miles' last CBS
album denounced NewYork's Police
Department; You're Under Arrest being apublic put-down of thosecops who frequently flag down his black Ferrari to harass Miles. The
scenario is odious -the only reason ablack man could be driving suchan expensive set of wheels is because it was heist.
Over the 40 years, during which he has consistently reinvented the mostvital area of contemporary music in his own inquisitive image, Miles has
never disguised the fact that he has no great love ofwhiteAmerican
society: the hypocrisy, the back-handed liberalism, the downright lies.
He also avoids applying the term jazz to his current stance. If, for thesake of inaugurating anew browser bin marker, his music must be
tagged, then tag it "social dance music" -but don't expect any detailed
explanation. Jazz, Miles opines, is now nothing but awhite terminology
for ablack tradition.
Discuss music with Miles and he persistently places great emphasison the distinct characteristics inherent in black and white players. And
you either employ or avoid afaction on the basis of their specific qualitiesor the lack of them.
Many see such statements as racist, others as bullshit. Miles is on record
as mistaking arecord by Phil Woods for ablack altoist, Sun Ra as adodgy
Euro-band ("we wouldn't play no shit like that") and insisting that Earth,Wind &Fire would kick more ass had they included acouple of white
trumpet players among their number.
And what's to be made of awild rumour of arecent gig, at which Miles
allegedly halted his band to holler, "Get that muthafuckin' nigger off
stage," when an uninvited Wynton Marsalis ignored Miles' originaldecision not to allow him to jam!
Then there's the question of three out of Miles' seven sidemen being
young, gifted and white. As it transpires, Miles isn't about to curb his
enthusiasm for his latest guitar player- former LA Express man
Robben Ford.
So why Ford as opposed to any number of black guitarists?
"Most black guys can only playlike Jimi Hendrix, and then for not too
long," is his dismissive one-liner. Ford, according to Miles, is possessedof three distinct styles, ranging from complex chord clusters through toadeft BB King single-string stroke.

108 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

,HOSE INVITED INTO Miles'
Manhattan household comeaway talking about how the
only albums they ever see lying
around are the latest pop ones. Of late,
it appears that the Man's listening
pleasure stretches to Earth, Wind &Davison thebalcony of his
Fire, D-Train, Ashford &Simpson,apartment
Scritti Politti and Prince.
overlooking
Throughout his career, Miles has
Manhattan'sCentral Park
always had an ear for those pop songs
which he can personalise. His new
LP will include astorminginterpretation of Scritti Politti's "Perfect Way",
if not the promised pairing with his perfectly
formed Purple-ness.
It's the contemporarypop performers' ability
to make their statementwithin the self-imposed
confines ofjust afew bars that continues tointrigue him; maybe he's reminded of the days
when he and Bird-or, for that matter, the Birth
Of The Cool band-had but one side of asingle togive it their best shot.
It's horses for courses, and Miles Davis regards
himself as aquarter horse thoroughbred. Suchhorses are skilfully trained to give of their bestover aquarter of amile.
"I think it's easier to do what Prince andQuincy (Jonesi produce-and fill in the cracks!"
That's not to infer he doesn't enjoy the luxury of stretching out at will.
Bitches Brew, in his opinion, succeeded simply because things wereallowed to flow naturallywithin aset of previously formulated cues.
"Prince," he insists, "is also athoroughbred. He's like an Arabianbreed... possesses that extra something.
"The first album Igave my nephew Vincent [Miles' drummer] was byJames Brown, then Igave him something by Sly. When I
listen to Prince,
Ihear James Brown-but it's updated... modified. Ialso hear MarvinGaye, Sly Stone... awhole bunch of other good people. That's the part
Ilike. Just like when you grab abreast of chicken -orwhatever part you
prefer- and leave the rest. The rest of the stuff Idon't like.., got no use forit, so out it goes."
Regarding the anticipated outcome of the meeting of the two blackmusic Princes, Miles reveals that we'll have to wait until the rematch.
Prince sent Miles both avocal and instrumental version of asong
entitled "Can IPlay With You". Attached to the tape was anote thatbegan: "We think alike. Iknow
howyou feel. Iknow what
you're doing..."Miles stripped down Prince's
multi-track, adding his own
touch and returned it to thecomposer for additional vocals.
Though approving ofwhat
Miles had done with the"chicken breast", whencompared to the rest of Tutu,
Prince vetoed the track, feeling
his personal contribution fell
short of the overall standard.
"Prince rang me up and said
it would be much better if nexttime the two of us work together
in the same studio."

OF MANYCOLOURSMILES DAVIS

And, there will be anext time.
It could also be that the trumpet player's wish to record with Sinatra will
be realised now that they are both on Warners.
"I love the way Sinatra sings—I learned to phrase from listening to all his
early recordings."
However, at this juncture, aMiles Davis/Gil Evans reunion appears themost likely prospect. The pair are on red alert, having been invited toperform together, in Florence, before year end.
"When Isawhim recently Iasked Gil, 'What'll we do?"Gil said, "Tosca."
Just such aproject was under serious discussion 10 years ago, before
being indefinitely placed on hold.
"But if Gil tells me we're gonna do it, then it'll get done. If Iask him, hemight not have the time to do it."He gives aknowing smile before fixing me with that muchphotographed piercing stare. It's that intense look in the eyes which,he insists, got him the featured role of Ivory Jones in the "Junk Love"
episode of Miami Vice.
Did the role of the unsavoury Jones come easy?
"The part where I
was the pimp!"
It's that stare again.
"Nothing but astreet thing. Iused to do alittle bit of that,"referring to Jones' onscreen lifestyle. "Came real easy.
When you wanna cop drugs, who's got the best drugs...
what street... what whore... It's just amatter of style.
"In Miami Vice, all Ihad to do was put on the clothes and lookand talk like Ialways do!"Fancy!

li

HEN THERE'S THE question ofAura— an orchestral tribute toMiles which the honoured party recorded with the Danish
composer Palle Mikkelborg, in Copenhagen, February '85.
According to Miles, it's as much the attitude shown by CBS to thisproject as their stance in general ("made me feel like atax loss") that
prompted The Man With The Horn to terminate a30-years-longassociation with the label on less than amicable terms.
As to whetherAura will serve as afinal contract filler or if CBS have easy
access to avault of unimaginable taped treasures isn't forthcoming at
this time. Miles is more irritated with the events surrounding the making
ofAura and its non-appearance.
When CBS refused to contribute towards production costs, Miles
reluctantly utilised a$20,000 grant from the National Endowment For
TheArts. It therefore doesn't appear unreasonable that Miles won't handover the tapes until CBS make specific guarantees.
"We've instructed CBS not to fuck it up by naming it con-temp-o-raryjaaaaa77777 "he slurs, "which is what theywant to do.
"If it's released right, it's one of those albums that'll be around for alongtime. But... everyone wants to label everything. CBS figure everything is
automatic. I'm black, I
play trumpet, so right away Imust be jaaa-77777
Even with his all-black band, Sting's rock. Why? Because he's white, hesings, he plays guitar.
"The mentality Iencountered was, it's gotta be jazz or jazz rock orclassical jazz or Benny Goodman kind of swing... Paul Whiteman King Of
Jaaa-77777 shit or rock'n'roll or whatever..." His voice trails off in disgust.
Though no rivalry existed between the two players, boardroom powerplay attempted to elevate the status ofWynton Marsalis as
spunky contender persistently snapping at the ankles ofDavis, the entrenched champion.
"Trouble is," snarls Miles, "George Butler [record
producer] is feedin' Wynton all that shit— makin' himsound like an old man, especiallywhen he says all jazzmusicians are supposed to wear asuit and tie... then you'reright back into slavery.
"Wear 'ern to please whom? The white man or thosepeople up in Harlem?""Sure," he adds, "Wynton's afine musician, but not mykind of man."And, there's the oft-quoted anecdote that has Butler
calling up Miles at home with arequest to phone Wynton.
Why, Miles enquired.
Because, said Butler, it's Wynton's birthday.
"Is that so?" Click. Buuurrrrurrrurrrrrurrrr. RoyCarr •Aslow, stately lyricism
MM OCT 11 Ides' latest, utu, IrldS d—and -wallops and worms of squabbling àuui,Miles DavisWARNER BROS

Exquisite Miles once again in a
dubious context. His personal
playing -and there is plenty of
it on Tutu -is as inventive andtonally ravishing as anything
he's recorded since his
comeback. Old jazzers will
wish they had theequipment to tune
out the banks ofsynthesizers
and pile-driver
percussion
everywhere in
his path, whilerising jives willprobably feel allthat reflects theworld they live in better
than Paul Chambers, Ron
Carter, Philly Joe or Tony
Williams.
According to
the credits,
the session
seems to havebeen mainly
Miles, various
specialists inthe ship-crack
and handclap
style ofpercussion, and lots of little
red and green lights winking
on and off from the synths. Is
Miles jousting with asopranosax on "Full Nelson", or is it
synthesized? Michael Urbaniak
gets acredit for electric violin
on "Don't Lose Your Mind", sopresumably he didn't justphone in abluesy circuit or two.
Oddly enough, the overall
feeling of the album isromantic, despite all thewallops and worms ofsquabbling sound in theforeground. Asad, slow, stately
lyricism processes through themosaic arrangements, and no
doubt all sorts of these could
be written about the tragedy ofthe individual in the metallic
heart of the modern city.
There's quite abit of vox
humana -style exhalation fromthe machines -Miles' own
unmistakeable croak appears
once on "Full Nelson" -and thissighing contributes to theromance. The tunes aren't
memorable, though fragmentsof melody are.
"Portia" sounds like asloweddown version of "Chicago (That
Toddling Town)" shorn of thelast notes, while "Tomaas"
comes on like aradically
reprocessed movie theme.
"Tutu" is in the manner grand,
but certainly
doesn't evoke
the plucky
little Bishop
for me.
"Splatch"and"PerfectWay" arebrutally
stompy, withalot of stop-start unsettlementfrom the drums, and both findthe leader drilling bullseyes
with stinging accuracy. Marcus
Miller's arrangements uncover
several interestingly discordant
moments, as when Miles banks
up against asubstantial clashof chords and establishes
harmony on "Splatch", andon other numbers seems tolance electronic structuresthat puddle and squash out
as he passes.
Miles' sound is
everything you could
want, and sometimes
balloons right into theear. This is obviously
how he likes his stuff
to sound these days,
and there's plenty ofchallenge for him tonegotiate thesemusical obstacles.
The famous Irving
Penn has taken covershots that bore right into theleader's pores.

"Tomaas" comeson like aradically
reprocessedmovie theme

Brian CaseHISTORY OF ROCK 1986 1109

1986

'

R

o:

,/

arrival. No words werenecessary, just the imageof Madonna being Marilyn,
announced in gaudy
Warholian pink and yellow.
It's atestament to how fully
Madonna's image has
penetrated our unconsciousthat it's immediately
recognisable as Madonna,
rather than just another
Warhol Marilyn.
What Warhol captured
about Monroe was not her
personality (except innegative), but the sheer
iconic power of her image,and it's that status that
Madonna aspires to. Music is
the medium, but stardom isthe message (and themassage). Madonna, in thetrue soap opera fashion ofstardom, announces her
marital bliss on her record
sleeve ("This album isdedicated to myhusband, thecoolest guy in
ALBUMSthe universe"),while exposing
RE VIEW
her heartbreak tonightclubs full of1986
gossip columnists
clothes off in astrip("MADONNA
bar one night in
HEADS FOR BREAKTokyo? Or this year's
UP DUE TO HUSBAND
model, as displayed on the cover
PENN'S DRINK PROBLEM").
of True Blue, the tragic star in"You're the one I'm dreaming
shades of blonde and pale blue,of/ Your heart fits me like aglove,"
blood-drained skin and bloodshe croons on the title track, as
red lipstick?
she fills the gossip inches with
Of course, there are those who
the heartbreak of alove affair
will tell you that the only Madonna
drowning in alcohol. And it all fits
who matters is the one capable ofso perfectly with the image ofcrafting aperfect pop song, pure
Marilyn, the tragic superstar.
and simple, pouting and sexual Inevitably, given the backdrop
and she's here, alright, on "Papathat she's fashioned herself (aDon't Preach" and "White Heat".
thousand TV screens, all showing
But I
can't help thinking she'd be aadifferent image of MADONNA),
momentary diversion if it weren't
the songs themselves simply add
for the myths she wraps aroundto the show, rather than starring
herself. All the other Madonnas
in it. Madonna can equal Prince
keep getting in the way, and it'sanyday when it comes to brassthem I
find more interesting.
necking it out, all guns blazing,
Madonna, like Grace Jones. now
but her sensitive moments lackmakes records that are about her
his mystery and imagination.
advertising
campaigns about theimage of theMadonnas.
In fact myfirst taste ofthis LP was
outside thetube station,
where Iwas
confronted
with abankof Madonna
faces thatannounced
the record's

re4 t vINSDo IT RITTERo

Madonna onthe
set of the videofor"Papa Don't
Preach", May 1986

ALBUMS

11.1:1:1

Madonna

SIRE"So I'm here looking through an
old picture frame/Waiting for a
perfect view/ I
hope something
special will come into my life/
Another fine edition of you" (from"Editions Of You" by Roxy Music)
So what is the appeal ofMadonna, they ask, as they toss
the LP in my direction.
What, you mean Madonna thesophisticat's kitsch-appeal pop
star, the picture to occupy thesame space on the wall as thethree clay ducks above thefireplace -aknowing, ironic
wink at prole culture?
Or do you mean Madonna, thescreen-printed photograph inwhich every coloured dot is thestain of ateenage wet dream, thebloom of afantasy of sex, escapeand stardom?
Or do you mean Madonna, thepostmodern pop star, Andy
Warhol's infinitely reproducible
dream of the totally frivolous,
totally famous, the perfect image.
Or do you mean Madonna, thelink between the New York ofrock culture -the rock'n'roll
dream of Desperately Seeking
Susan- and the New York of theNight Of The Living Yuppie?
Which Madonna do you mean,
precisely? The one who justwalked down my high street? The
Japanese version I
saw take her
110 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

But it no longer
matters that
"Where's The
Party" sounds
like aformula(everything
about Madonna
is aformula) orthat "Jimmy
Jimmy" is asynthesis of the "He's ARebel"
rock'n'roll myth (Madonna isamyth synthesis).
Madonna has long transcended
the realms of mere music. She is
the Reproducible Girl. And theposter campaign is inspired.
Don Watson, NNE Jul 72

Wham!

EPIC

Whatever else, there are somethings they can't take away from
Wham!. They may have madereal prats of themselves in themeantime, but Wham! still gave
us "Wham! Rap" and "Young
Guns Go For It", anthems of asort of youthful optimism andboth brilliant, BRILLIANT singles.
Odd now to imagine it, but"Young Guns" in particularseemed to signify abold new
dream for the pop ethos, with its
stirring brashness and admirable
arrogance in the face of adversity
while intelligently doffing thecap to the exciting new black raps
coming out of New York. Have
pride in the dole queue was themessage, and it hit anerve thattouched all our hearts.
Which is exactly why such scorn
was heaped upon George andAndy when they dumped theincorrigible sense of fun andadventure in favour of Club
Tropicana and fake suntans
and contrived videos andshuttlecocks down the shorts.
When Wham! said they didn't
want to be credible, they wanted
to be rich and famous, the musicpress and all who sailed in her felt
betrayed. And in truth "BadBoys" and "Club Tropicana" werepretty appalling.
On this double album
compilation, thecorpse is barely cold
but the marketingclean-up goes on.
"Wham! Rap" and"Young Guns" soundlike museum pieces-you smile at thenaivety and rejoiceat the memory.
Nobody's saying
George and Andrew
should have spent
their lives remaking
dole queue raps,
but the crude
ruthlessness with

which they set about sellingthemselves as pop pin-ups wasdamn offensive.
Listening back over the 15
tracks, it is possible now to makeabalanced judgement on theirworth as apure pop song, andwhile their sound was always
alarmingly thin and Michael's
voice too weak to successfully
carry off something as vigorousas "I'm Your Man", Wham! were
acut above the norm. It was theirunyielding gift for self-promotionthat was so obnoxious, notnecessarily their records.
"Wake Me Up Before You
Go-Go", for example, had wit andoriginality and the mawkish "Last
Christmas" astutely integrated
the traditions of Motown into
Michael's unerring ear forcompelling chorus lines and his
penetrating eye for asure-firecommercial banker.
The key to the whole thing andthe track that doomed Andrew
Ridgeley is, of course, "CarelessWhisper". Crushingly
sentimental, it neverthelessoozed class, gave George
Michael instant respect as a
songwriter and set him firmly on
the path to being the new Paul
McCartney. It must have been
"Careless Whisper" and thereaction to it that convinced
George that he had adeeper role to playthan bouncing up anddown alongside thevacuous Ridgeley.
All history now, ofcourse, and there's
already asense of
nostalgia about the
tracks here-12-inch
versions of "Wham! Rap","Young Guns", "Bad Boys","Careless Whisper", "Last
Christmas", "Everything She
Wants" and "Freedom"- making
it the perfect party record,even if the packaging is
disappointingly tacky.
Isuspect that in future years
Wham! nostalgia will reach
unforeseen heights... You mayvery well have loathed them,but they will still have been
responsible for the soundtrack
to your youth, and that is more
important than music alone.
Cheers, boys. Colin Irwin

Romf ord's Five
Star:strangersto"the whiff of thebarmaid'sapron

SINGLES

4:
11D ni t

Arcadias

TiME

The Wedding
Present,II,•[11,VE,,,›Zraer,
\N•

A

b YR.
e:

R
R .nek„„eez
PARLOPHONE

The trouble is thatsomeone has alreadywritten "Shaft". And much asIadore the chaps from Arcadia(continued lunchtime in theLadies...) mfriJuii2

James

SIRE

No doubt about it: James arefruitcakes. Gifted fruitcakes.
For all of its peculiarities, its
extraordinary yodelling, its
rhythmic eccentricity, thishighly certifiable single is at
the same time cohesive andeminently agreeable. It works
for all the reasons it
shouldn't, turning theoccasionally grimtask of reviewing
singles into
something ofaworthwhile
occupation.
MM Jul12

The FallBEGGARS BANQUET

It's amystery to me that
The Fall still exist, that people
still listen to the bastards, thatpeople ever listened to them inthe first place. "Living Too Late"is amorose riff and dour vocal,
while "Living Too Long" dronesinterminably." Hot Aftershave
Bop", the remaining track on
this 12-inch-only release, shows
atouch more spirit and makes
you wonder if, one day, Mark E
Smith is going to invent atune-an entertaining notion.
Definitely more entertaining
than anything to be found on
the record. frifrouii2

RECEPTION

Afrenziedguitar ushers inabreathless vocal andneither goes away throughout
this prime slice of Leeds indie
pop, free at last from the Gang
Of Four hangover that has
dogged so many of that city's
favourite sons, and now veering
more towards aderanged
folkies-on-speed extravaganzathat overstays its welcome byjust about the right amount.
The B-side is called "You
Should Always Keep In Touch
With Your Friends", which issound advice, and again it's likesome sort of folk music gone
mad with lots of room for theomnipresent guitar to clang
about in. If I
had enough todrink I
think I
would probably
die watching this band play live.
mmiuizisFive Star

RCA

The best thing to come out of
Romford since interesting
Davis march triumphantly on
with their sure-fire formula oftaking all the best bits of The
Jacksons and wrapping them up
in amoral code that makes
Victoria Gillick look like Cynthia
Payne. Still, if all this abstinencemeans they keep on churningout little gems like "Find The
Time" thenI
hope thesniff of thebarmaid's
apron
eludes themfor afew
years yet.
mmJui26

The Smiths

ROUGH TRADE

Just when you thought it wassafe to write off The Smiths as
the ultimate albums band, herecomes "Panic" to re-establish
Morrissey and Marras
undisputed champions of pop's
most viral art form. As well as
being thoroughly superior to
the rest of this week's crop,"Panic" should also finallyknock the dour bastards
myth on the headonce and for all.
The verythought of
Morrissey
ever getting
involved inanything
ROO,
more
dangerous
ig 193than aPANIC (219\nosebleed isfunny enough,but when he brings
the young lad in at theend for the "hang the DJ"
chant, it's impossible not to join
in and echo the sentiments ofanyone who has ever once
attended ayouth club disco.
"The music that they constantly
play says nothing to me about
my life," croons Mo, buta few
blasts of "Panic" and thatparticular situation will soon be
put to rights. Johnny Guitar
hasn't sounded as damned
EMPHATIC since "Hand In
Glove", and with "Vicar In A
Tutu" and aludicrous
instrumental
funk workout
on the 12-inch,
it sounds as
if The Smiths
are back withavengeance.
Brilliant.

114E. en Hs

MM Jul 26

YOF ROCK 1986 I111

1
1986,(11„,...„..

"On occasion,canet wild"•

The '"e'rennv are it
rap's most notorious
outlaws. But behind theoutrage, afractionallymore sensitive picture
emerges. "We neveractually get any girls...
The Beastie Boys havenever really, y'know,
actually... y'know..."SEPTEMBER

WAMNGABWII/GETTY

CC

112 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

H

MELODY MAKER

EY, Y'KNOW DAT guy Iknow who murdered dat girlin Central Park? He didn't do it.".
"He didn't do it, right? It says in da papers dat he says
he was screwing her in da Park an' she grabbed his balls
an' she was really squeezin', y'know, really squeezin'an' she wouldn't let go, so he kinda got her in asorta headlock and kinda strangled
her by accident.""Huh?""He says it was an accident.""Her dress was torn to shreds, her bra was wrapped round her neck... That don'sound like no accident to me."
"S what he says.""Look, even if some girl is squeezin' your balls, you don' strangle her with her bra...
Imean, there are some things adude does and some things adude doesn'."
The Beastie Boys not so beastie after all? Seems so, though the last time this brat packof NY HM rappers set foot on our shores, they managed to upset and outrage most of
the nice record company and music press people it was worth outraging andupsetting. They smeared taramasalata over their guests at their highly hyped PA atthe now defunct Embassy (a five-minute appearance, incidentally, which amounted
to little more than aspirited effusion of four-letter words over arampant beat box),
they talked alot about titties and crack and they made an awful mess of their hotel
rooms, redecorating the Chelsea Holiday Inn with avariety of sarnies. Wild old stuff.
"So what are people expecting of us when we go back there now?" asks Mikey D, thecute-looking Beastie.
Oh, wild behaviour, that sort of thing.
"But why, why?" asks MCA, the dude in the shades who acts like hewishes he'd been old enough to serve in 'Nam.
Because you did things that hadn't been seen since...
"Led Zeppelin!" Ad-Rock enthuses. He's the kid, the pudge
playground push-you-around.
"No, more like the Sex Pistols!" This is Sean, their English roadmanager, amini-Kosmo Vinyl who grew up before his time doing
dates with The Clash and The Specials.
"Look, the Beastie Boys go to England to have agood time. We were »The Beattie Boysinte86:(I-r)Michael Diamond(aka Mike D), Adam
Yauch(MCA)and Adam
Horovitz (Ad-Rock)HISTORY 01 ROCK 1986 alit

19 1
F,
on holiday, travellin' around."So that explains the chicken?
"Where d'you hear about dat?"
Oh, here and there.
"Yeah, OK. We went shoppin' to thestore to buy food to eat and we couldn'
believe it because in one store they had
dis entire cooked chicken for sale. Now
you don' see dis too much, except in
New York, wrapped in plastic, so I
bought da chicken 'cos it seemed reallyfunny, and we ate just, like, one wing
because it was really bad and we werelookin' out dis' window- da windows
opened up really huge-and we seen
dis dude walkin' down da street in,
like, abowler hat an' atuxedo carrying
awalkin' stick an' he was, like, so proper it seemed really funny, so I
threw
the chicken at him.""Yeah, it was right off Sloane Street, so there was no reason not to."Score abullseye?
"I think it landed, like, one foot in front of him with ach-u-u-u-u-u-mp!"
Aaah, and Ithought it was alive chicken.
"You thought it was alive chicken? Dat would have been incredible!
Wouldn't it have been cool if we'd had alive chicken and its wings wereclipped so it couldn't fly?"
The Beasties are on their home patch, sipping mushroom-and-barleysoup in Kiev, aPolish cafe in Greenwich Village, five minutes' legwork
from Washington Square where the black punks with green Mohicans
hang out. Crack Central until recentlywhen the cops cleaned it up.
"Nowyou have to go down onto Sixth. You can't walk there at nights now
without someone jumpin' out on you."W

ESHOULD BE in Providence, Rhode Island, right now. The
Boys should be playing, part of the Raising Hell Tour which
has been grossing like agood 'un across America, apackagethat features fellow rapturists Run DMC, Whodini and LL Cool J.
Trouble is, they pulled the plugs. There'd been big trouble. There'dbeen scuffles in Philly, aslight fracas in Atlanta, but the guns came out
in Long Beach, California, the outskirts of LA. Stories differ as to theexact nature and extent of the bloodshed, depending on your source.
The national press inAmerica made ameal of it-deaths, race riots, thatsort of thing. The lady from the record company, towing the DMC line,
claims there were no deaths, that the heavy arms were outside the halland that it had nothing to do with the artists or their fans.
The Beasties tell it like this: "Long Beach was agangwar. You don't really
get gangs in NewYork, but in LA there's all these gangs and, uh, one wasinside the place watching the concert and another was trying to get in tosettle some kinda beef, but they couldn't
because the security on the doorknew theywere
some sorta gang, so about 200 people bombrushed the backdoor and came running in with,like, knives and sticks an' stuff and attacked theother gang just as Whodini went on. The gangs
were just running around hitting all the fans,just attacking everybody in the whole place.
"The only thing you can compare it to in
England is, like, afootball match where you
have two groups trying to get each other andawhole bunch of innocent people get caught
in-between."
Whatever the body count, whether the
security guards did or did not employ metal
detectors to keep out the hard stuff, whether or
not it was apre-planned military invasion from outta town with gang
colours hidden until theywere inside, the trouble was enough to see thetour cancelled in other cities- retribution from the City Fathers that,
understandably, the Beastie Boys deplore.
"On occasion, it can get wild. Idon't really think it's our fans, though.
Our show is just arock'n'roll show. These gangs could crash the gates on
Run DMC, Janet Jackson or Cameo."
Nonetheless, the Beasties' reputation precedes them as the Raising HellTour hits Hammersmith this weekend. Oddball enough as the only

seriously hard white rap act in theentire universe, the Beasties havegone out of their way to make theirway, rubbing the powers that be up
the wrongway, saying all the wrong
things, irritating and baiting andboasting and bragging.
As their Svengali/fairy-godfather/producer Rick Rubin of the DefIamlabel says on their intro video to the Britmusic biz: "The Beastie Boys are aNEW
music group. They're not just arockgroup, they're everythingyou want 'em
to be. Any category, they fit."
In other words, they don't fit at all.
Their brash collision of heavy rockriffs, cranked up into the red, distorted
into crackling thunder, Bonhamesque, Beelzebub bass drums andsnotty-nosed macho rapping comes at the so-called fourth-world funkfrom the other side of the segregated school bus. Theywere into Kiss andcottoned onto Clinton, whereas Run was into Kurtis Blow and fell for thebombast of Bad Company.
Some hear "She's On It" and hear atruly cosmopolitan melting potof street styles, away forward forged from ashedding of prejudice.
Others, like David Toop in his premature book RapAttack, hearracism, chauvinism, even the gross breast-beating belches of rank
misogynists. Me, Ihear adamn up racket and awicked laugh. Puerile,
yes, but alive, alive-o.
"We talk about girls alot, yeah, it's alarge part of our lives. Especially
MCA. Ithink he has most problems?"
Problems?
"Uh, I
just seem to find myself involved wid several different
relationships at da same time, which usually makes for apretty
funny scene."
It has been said, though, that the Beasties' attitude towards womenleaves alot to be desired.
"Whaddaya mean? Have you got anything off aBritish girl, ever?"Got? What? Explain.
"You ever got to first base?""Did you ever actually, uh, put your hand under agirl's titty?"
Well, nowyou come to mention it...
"What's it like?""Are English girls any different from American girls?"
Can't say I'm that conversant with the Yankee gal, carnally.
"No, really, I
wanna know for myself," Ad-Rock pleads. "I mean, y'know,
Ididn't learn dis in school."
You mean the Beasties didn't have their evil way on their last visit?
"We never actually get any girls... The Beastie Boys have never really,y'know, never really, actually... y'know..."—
There's alot of locker-room wank about
the Beasties, as the vid for "She's On It" shows-boys disrespectful of womanhood because
they don't understand it, but more thananything, boys acting the way they figure
boys ought to act. The Beastie Boys, like
Madness, like The Monkees, are very muchconscious caricatures of the era they exist
in. They're all the tensions and trends blown
larger than life, to reflect on and laugh at, anescape from the norm by agross exaggerationof the normal.
They don't mean what they say, but theysometimes saywhat they mean. They're tickled
pink by the product of their outrage as long as
their reputation sets them apart, on the ascent. But if the going gets tough,the Beasties come clean.
"Do people really think we do alot of drugs in England?" asksAd-Rock.
Yup.
"Is that their impression? Well, there are definitely alot of drugs aroundthe Beastie Boys, but us, as aband, we don't."
Mike Dsmiles but gets real serious when I
say, for abstainers, it's mighty
odd that their every other sentence is concerned with crack, purified
freebase cocaine sold increasinglyfreely on the New York streets.

"You grow up
in NYC and,
well, when I
was 13 Iwas
selling drugs"

114 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

BEASTIE BOYS

methi ng to write dat's gonna do some damage"Well, you can't help it. You grow up in NewYork
NC; SLCII
TILL
to our career or somethin'."
City and, well, when
"Yeah, and the obvious thing to ruin the Beastie
I
was 13, in high school, Iwas selling drugs."
Boys is to point out they're white kids! There are lots
"I mean hey," growls MCA, "I used to get wasted aof radio programmers and other people out there
lot, buddy. We all
who would like to see the Beastie Boys fall and notused to."see our records get played on black radio andThey all look peachy keen and powders clean now,
succeed as we have in front of black audiences."though.
It's never made clear who these people are or why"We are. We don't do it. See, we actually started off
they seek to do our boys down, but from my experience of the moronic
singing about it because it seemed sorta funny and cliched, abig
American pop press, Ican see how and why the Beasties give them suchrock'n'roll thing, but nobody really got the joke. Everyone assumed thatahard time and why the jolly inane jocks might take umbrage.
we did drugs all the time, but if you listen to the lyrics, things like 'I'm
"Look, it's obvious we're not racist."
never dustingout 'cos Itorch thatcrack' just seemed sorta funny.""I am," says MCA. "I hate white people.""The only problem inAmerica," says Mikey D, "is that we get played
Have the Beasties encountered any problems being the onlywhiteys inalot on black radio, and for lots of kids who listen to black radio alot,
ablack genre?
crack is becoming areal problem. I'm talking about 13-year-old kids. It's
"No, but we got to have the fresh rhymes. Our records have to be almost
really killing them and they don't realise, so at this point! feel there's abetter than other people's so any kid in the audience won't think, 'Who're
responsibility in the band towards that audience since our audience, forthese ill white kids?' He'll know it's the Beastie Boys."sure, is the 15-year-old b-boy in Detroit.
So, are they aware they're doing their bit for cross-cultural harmony?
The Beastie Boys feel responsible?
"Uh... it's really scary for us that the audiences at our gigs are really"Yeah, definitely. Ifeel responsibility towards those people, but Idon't
fuckin' young now. You're talkin' maybe eight years old, and both of us
feel responsibility towards the trendy person dancing in aclub inand Run DMC are making strictlyyouth records. Ifeel responsibility
London. I
don't really give ashit if they read MelodyMakerand get
towards that."
offended because we talk about girls with big tits."
But do the Beasties set acool example? Imean, Iknow Run goes on
Doubtless the Beasties, like Run DMC, will be involved in entrepreneur
about how they stayed at school and made something of themselves
extraordinaire Bill Graham's Crack Down concert in NewYork inand all, but the Beasties' cartoon capers seem alittle over-the-top to
autumn, which is another good reason (as if one were needed) to laughbe altruistic.
those racist jibes down the lavatory.
"If you look at us on stage, it's not like we're wearing anything that akid
"Racist? Now that's what Ireally don't understand."in the audience can't afford to go out and buy, and Ithink that's part of it,
MCA has no answer: "I think alot of people were mad at us about otherpart of the appeal, that akid can look at us and say, 'Look at the ill whitethings. The Beastie Boys are well known for insulting people, because if
kids, look what they're wearing...I can go out and buy that.' It's the sameda three of us get going an' we're in the wrong mood or drunk, we canwith Run DMC."
really ruin someone's day, and we probably severely insulted some"We're definitely not like Ozzy Osbourne. If akid sees him in asevenreporter...Actually, Ican think of quite afew.
thousand-dollar suit and the big boots with the dragons, they can't relate"Anyway, da reporter can't exactly write in his article, 'The Beastie Boys
to that, and Idon't think that's really rock'n'roll. Ithink it's alot more »insulted me, deywere really mean, I
don' like them', so he tries to think of

BROOKIYN

Stretching thedefinition of hiphop: the Beasties
on Long Beach,Long Island,
New York

JOSH CHEUSE/ REX FEATURES

lamimpi-adari

Run DMC, LL Cool Jand the Beastie Boys do their thing.

FARHAD KANUGA /REX FEATURESH

EY WHITE BOY, what you doing
uptown? Hey white boy, you chasing
our music around?
Didn't we long to believe it, eh? Weren't wejust the keen ones to grab avicarious thrill,
us middle-class whiteys shaking among the
Stanley knife Yo Boys and living to tell thetale? Weren't we the bold ones getting hip
to the dark-skinned hop, acquiring instantcredit as the new noise antiquated all our
pop notions in one pumping instant?
Well, sorry Joe, no go. When The Raisin'
Hell Tour hit Hammersmith, it was painfully
apparent that there's been abad load of shit
written about rap, apile of sociological
wishful theorising about the collision andcollusion of styles, about the beat being
all and the star being usurped by the scratchof adisc, about body language bypassing
the brain, about the rapture of rhythm
evaporating the evil of ego.
What the Raisin' Hell Tour proved was
not only is hip hop poetry in motion, having
already cemented its own vocabulary, butthat its behaviour conforms exactly to
tradition. As smug as Saxon or Status Quo
and greeted with similar undiscerning
adulation, RUN DMC have become
116 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

alunk-head heavy metal ceremonial shammighty quickly.
As Jam Master Jay cranked down thegrind, they'd pick afraudulent beef withsome poor punter to spur their next yawnof aggression and the nadir came when
they all slouched off after half an hour andpretended the authorities were trying toprevent them returning. Run admonishing
the audience to point at some haplessfigure in the shadows backstage and yell
"Fuck your before launching into somemore strutting stuff.
Like Quo, the greatest thing about Run
DMC is their audience. During aturgid"My Adidas", the multitude whipped off
their trainers and held them aloft forbenediction, but I
felt they
were robbed when "WalkThis Way" was truncatedafter acursory chorus,
hurried through without
humour. Slob superstars,
they got away with murder.
In contrast, LL COOL J
wasn't cool at all, but
startlingly forthright andraring to innovate. With

Cut Creator splicing and dicing, never once
dropping the beat (unlike Jam Master Jay
who, in his conceit, often lumbered into
directionless thunder), LL was cultivated,cheeky and creative.
When he waggled his willy inside his
track suit, his smile was broad; when hewas boasting, he was blasting our bodies likeaverbal southpaw, his roaring sentences
smarting in our ears.
"Can't Live Without My Radio" wasradically lean and loud, the human dynamo
furiously fluent and harshly pure, his formof rap ablood relation of reggae toasting,whereas, sandwiched between the two
biggies, WHODINI were obviously
sweetmeat, presumably there to add somevariety to the inescapablemonotony of the genre.
They simply didn't belong
as they did alot of Spanish
marching about and told us
repeatedly they weretaking no prisoners while
the marvellous crowd
bombarded them with an
enthusiastic barrage ofwhistles and car horns.

"The Beastie
Boys' cartoon
capers were real
dangerous, theyrisked their lives"

BEASTIE BOYS

LLCooll
cutvtodcheeky lnd
cre t erock'n'roll seeing us, because pretty much all the males that go and see aRun DMC/
Beastie Boys concert wanna MC or DJ."Is this, perhaps, why the Raising Hell Tour has been so phenomenally successful,while others, with more established lineups, are bombing out?
"Yeah, maybe. We always seem to mysteriously find ourselves on the biggest tourof the year. Last year we were on the Madonna tour, and that got more press thananything, it was ahuge, big deal, and now we're on the Raising Hell Tour, which is thehuge, big deal of this summer. What next? Idon't know."
Sean, who's wearing aChelsea kit ("Not the new one, the thin stripes on the old one
are more fly") likens the tour to nothing he's seen since 2-Tone, all the bands
interacting, working from acommon paranoia and purpose.
"We're all like family, because we're all under the same management and we all work
together. Run is actuallywriting some songs for us and we wrote Whodini asong, so
we all hangout together alot."I

But, after the HM pomp, thereal roots thing and the mild pop
spoof, it was the BEASTIE BOYS'
gold old punk rap that really shook
the living daylights out of theformularised dance. They'd done abrief iominutes at Hammersmith, but hours later, at three inthe morning, they performed their entire 20 minutes in
Delirium, aclub in the old Astoria Theatre on Charing
Cross Road. While 500 or so stood out in the rain, thefull house heaved to the Beasties' beautiful chaos.
Run DMC had already stormed the DJ. Whodini
were attempting to get in on the act and LL was
ranting off to the side before the whole shebang was
forcibly silenced, atiny space cleared and theBeasties launched in.
Smack! Somewhere, somehow in the mayhem,
the Boys emerged with amean "Slow And Low",
acrackling "Cookie Puss" and the hefty new "NewStyle", taking the piss out of all they'd seen, all they
were doing, all the dumb cliches and sad macho poses.
The Beastie Boys' cartoon capers were real
dangerous, they risked their lives and others' limbs inahilarious on-heat howl of protest to make something
happen. Their anti-rap attitude, ransacking riffs, wasjustified and joyous. Rap needs the crap kicked out of
it. Haste ye back, wee Beasties, while you're still in the
raw. Steve Sutherland

KNOW WHAT THEY'LL wear over here- the obligatory jock caps, the Adidas
trainers (unlaced, of course) and the jeans, unzipped and pulled down off thewaist to reveal boxer shorts, preferably paisley- but Iwonder if they'll wear
well. Maybe this bastard-brat offspring of Sesame Street and the Sex Pistols is muchtoo much an indigenous American accident to catch on?
"No. When we were in London eight months ago, or however long it was, I
wasmeeting kids right and left who rapped-it's one of the only forms of music that really
new stuff keeps coming out of. I'm always amazed -every time! turn on the radio,
there's some rap record that's got some new idea in it, something Iwould never thinkof that takes it in acompletely different direction.
"The rap audience is definitely the most discriminating around," MikeyD
continues. "They don't wanna hear something they've already heard, they don't
wanna hear the cliches. It's kinda at acool stage right now because we have rap groups
established enough to have their own audience and adistinct sound, but at the sametime, everything changes so fast. If Run DMC were to put out an album that's exactly
the same as their first, they'd be over. They have to keep changing."
As, of course, do the Beasties. Even granting their crucial role in legitimising rap for
whites in acountry handicapped by racial prejudice on the radio, the boys can't afford
to lean back and chill out. Hence their forthcoming album, Licensed To Ill, is harder andheavier than "Cookie Puss" or "She's On It", arumbling surge of bravado and piracy.
They play me atape in amassive pool hall called Julian's, awarehouse up some pissstained stairs peopled by geezers in bowlers and sideys, Clockwork Orange for real,
and my favourite track as the balls purr into pockets is "Rhymin' And Stealin", amaxidecibel stomp through gang cliches.
"It's just the hardest," says M ikey D. "I don't think it'll go on the radio. See, this iswhere we get our stuff. It's real. Where the Beastie Boys live, what's around us?
0E, Old English, cheap beer, Riceroni, Captain Crunch and people selling crack
in the park."
But is it enough to document, or are they passing comment?
"I think we're basically trying to document ourselves," says MCA. "We're nottrying to document what everybody else is doing or what's going on in the world
in South Africa orwhatever- it's just the three of us having agood time anddoing music about it."
What would the Beasties like to do?
"We really wanna do sitcom. DefIam and CBS were gonna split the cost and just run
it on MTV, hoping to sell it to anetwork...""D'you know what they're doing on Channel Five, Fox Television? Making new
episodes of The Monkees!""Yeah, Ihear they recast it. It's ridiculous. Did you see the new Monkees video? It's
only Peter and Mickey and, oh my God, it was really the fuckin' worst thing I've everseen. It was really milking the dead cow-some things should be left to lie."
Meanwhile, the Beasties are featured in Tougher Than Leather, amystery movie in
which the boys play light relief to Run DMC's murder plot, they're listening to alot of
Smiley Culture and Pato Banton ("The English MCs reallywin the whole thing"),
doing their damnedest to recreate some of the Led Zep through reading Hammer Of
The Gods, and doing battle with CBS, who mixed their idea for agatefold double debut
LP to be called Double-Barrelled Fresh.
So, what wouldn't the Beasties do?
"If! had the choice to do it over again, I
probably wouldn't go to see The Texas
Chainsaw Massacre Part II," says Mikey D. "It reallywasn't as good as !expected. Not
enough use of the chainsaw.""Hey, d'you think Eddie Murphy's afaggot? Seriously. We met him on tour and hewas, like, after LL Cool Jall the time. Like, it could have been an act, but he was at it allnight, an' if he was putting it on, then he was real good at it."
The penultimate word goes to Rick Rubin, the man who kicked it all off, the man
behind the Beasties, the man with an instinct for the commerciality of controversy: "Ill,that means to be wild. Could be good, could be bad, depending on your point of view."
No sleep till Hammersmith. SteveSutherland •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I117

1986tm„_,„„*.

David Byrne is yourunnamedguide to
the fictional Texas
town of Virgilin his
film True Stories

'A licenceto dress
howeveryou want"
TALKING HEADSDAVID BYRNE-NiC

SEPTFJABER 6-OMING SOON TO acinema near you
is one of this year's funniest yet mostthought-provoking films. It is called
lbw Stories, and is amosaic of pilfered,hybridised ideas and images which add
up to asurprisingly coherent whole.
Its director and co-writer is aslim, 34-year-old NewYorker
of casually smart attire, faintlygreyingblack hair and the
deepest cow-brown eyes I've ever seen.
He is David Byrne, who for the last 11 years has beenotherwise employed as singer, guitarist and songwriter forthe rock group Talking Heads. Rock stars makingmovies?
Never mind such half-baked dilettanti as Bowie, Dylan andPrince; David Byrne proves that in this age of overspecialisation the Renaissance Ideal remains bloodybut
unbowed. The Jonathan Miller of pop, anyone?
It all started back when Talking Heads were touring in
1983, as immortalised in Jonathan Demme's awardwinning documentary Stop MakingSense. David Byrne
used to divert himself from the rigours of the road bycollecting those kookybelieve-it-or-not anecdotes thatform the staple of such American tabloid newspapers as the
Weekly World News. "Baby Born With Two Heads!", "Boy
Whose Earmuffs Took World By Storm!", that sort of thing.
At the same time, Byrne was already increasinglyinterested in the theatrical and cinematic arts as
exemplified by the Stop MakingSensestageshow andthe promotional videos he directed with dazzlinginventiveness for "Burning Down The House", "ThisMust Be The Place" and "Road To Nowhere". He was now
thinking in visual images, which he would sketch and store
for some future use.
Thus the raw material for Tnie Stories, an unreliableanthology if literal verisimilitude is what you're after. But
not quite pure fiction either. »HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I119

1986

Juty -VeER

True Stories defies aready pigeonhole, combining several genres:
documentary, satire, musical, drama and fantasy. Robert Altman's
Nashville, Thornton Wilder's Our Town and the films of Fellini offer afew
cross-references.
Threading through all of these is our host/narrator, David Byrne
himself. Whether on an amiable stroll through town or, even moreuncharacteristically of this erstwhile paragon of brainily twitchingnerdishness, relaxed at the wheel of his open-top car, Byrne's coathanger
frame is racily upholstered in asharpshooting suit, bootlace tie, handtooled cowboy boots and high, wide and handsome Stetson hat.
Why does he look like JR Ewing, the archetypal Texan down at the ranch?
To puncture the myth that bronco-bucking schmatte is de rigueur in
Texas; only showbiz Texans look so corny.A small but telling point. David
Byrne sets True Stories in the biggest state of the Big Country, not as aNew
York sharpie mocking the hicks, but the better to tackle the big themes.
What are these big themes? In aroundabout, light-fingered yet
penetrating style, some of the facts of life of America today.

I
wouldn't live there if you paid me"TEXAS DID SEEM to embody alot of what Iwas getting at. You had to bevery careful about not dragging up aload of Texan cliches. Idid try to playwith them sometimes. Putting myself in acowboy outfit was pointing out
one of the Texas cliches- that only the out-of-towners think that Texas isfilled with cowboys. And we only mentioned oil once!"
He laughs with abemused inward furtiveness, his discourse always
tending to the face-value deadpan style patented byAndy Warhol. But
cautious judgements poke through all the time.
"I've just returned to NewYork after being in either Texas or LosAngeles
the last two years, and it's nice to be back. I
think I'm familiar enough to
get along in the rest of the country, but foreign enough that Istill go aboutkind of bemused when I
visit other towns in alot ofAmerica. It's nice thatI
still find it fresh."
Would not the great mass of Americans resent being represented by an"artist" from precious pinko liberal NewYork City?
"Yeah, and they're completely justified in that. Alot of NewYorkers
think of the rest of the country as abunch of laughable hicks, although
my hope is that you can get alaugh out of them and that they do havesomething to offer. It's like laughing with them."
There is much to laugh with. Virgil is the collective Texan new town of
Byrne's devising: we tour its geography, architecture, economy, pastimes
and especially people with araised eyebrow worthy ofAlan Whicker.
"I felt that I
had to keep reminding myself and the audience that alot of
the time, though it may look freakish, what I'm actually saying is that I
like this. What this person's doing is actuallyvery creative or avant-gardeorwhatever, but coming from an unsophisticated background. And thatdeserves some attention or respect."
How, hypothetically, might aTexan filmmaker represent New York?
"Hmmm," pauses the ever-thoughtful Byrne. "One of the things thattheywould notice right away is the dirt. The London dirt is old, centuries
of soot. But New York's dirt is last week's garbage. It's adifferent feeling;soot doesn't smell so much!Texans would notice how filthy New York is,
and how you have these sophisticated people dressing up and going to
expensive restaurants, and then you have bums sleeping in doorways
and garbage all over the place."
Has his view of "The Big Country"
changed since he sung in 1978 that
"I wouldn't live there ifyou paid me"?
"No. I've always felt that, depending on
what side of the bed you wake upon, you
can either look out the window and see
things rosy, amusing and wonderful, oryou
can see it as imperfect and compromised."That David Byrne is reasonable to afault
makes for slightly bloodless conversation.
"Gosh!" is the only outburst he permits
himself, and wryness is just about hisstrongest response.
On the other hand, such self-effacement
allows him to subordinate his ego to thedemands of the movie. For instance,
though all the songs in the film are to befound on the new Talking Heads LP, also
titled True Stories, they are mostly versions
120 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

performed by the actors and local gospel, norteño and country
musicians. Where Talking Heads actually sing-on the new single "Wild,
Wild Life" -what you actually see on film is ahilarious mime competitionof the type that has been catching on in nightclubs all overAmerica. And
when the band finally get to appear, playing "Love For Sale", they'reswiftly deluged in molten chocolate, ametaphor for conspicuous
consumption if ever there was one.
But is it also ametaphor for the eclipse of Talking Heads? Just as
David Byrne's interests have diversified into scoring modern dance
productions, directing videos and now afull-length movie, so too have
Ifound Talking Heads music less and less gripping. Last year's Little
Creatures LP bopped and joked cheerfully on the right side of monotony,
but it didn't exactly stretch the envelope of the hand's ability either, unlike
their first four diversely brilliant albums.
The backing tracks for the True Stories LPwere laid down at the sametime as Little Creatures, and then the aforementioned Texan "found"musicians did their stuff on top, and the actors sung Byrne's songs as
written specifically to express their characters as in any opera ormusical. Their renditions burst into life with all the twists and nuancesno single band or singer could summon. It is curious, then, that Talking
Heads should recut the same songs for True Stories, inevitablywith lesslively results.
"Given the choice, I
discovered alot of people would rather hear me
singing them, which I
find disappointing. Ifind that sometimes peopleinthe film did something more appropriate to the song, like the guy whoplayed Louis Fyne (John Goodman), his voice gave amore authentic
country interpretation of that song ['People Like Usl than Idid.
"But it's also true that alot of people like to hear the person who wrote
the song sing it. So I
just felt we were obliged to do it, though Ididn't need
my arm twisted that much, ha ha!"David Byrne admits how the rest of the band are wary that their new
LP seems to be amere adjunct- commercial guarantee, perhaps- of his
grandiose solo project. For True Stories shouldn't be seen as only abrief
diversion from Byrne's main job as head Head. On the strength of hisvideo experience, he raised the $1 million shooting budget from his
American record company Warner Brothers. The post-production costs,
calculated at between afurther $1m and $4m (the final sums are yet to bedone), were footed by mainstream movie investment. Though still lessthan half of the Hollywood average of $10m per movie, nor is it peanuts
either. Likewise David Byrne's two-year commitment of time.
Such ademanding solo project could only be fitted into the band'sschedule given that the songwriting and recording process is not very
time-consuming. But Talking Heads haven't toured in three years, norhave any plans to do so until they can think of anovel presentation. So
David Byrne feels no urge to play alive crowd for its own sake?
"I probably do, but Iforget how much fun it is until Ido it, to sing in frontof people and they actually like it, ha ha! Iforget how enjoyable that is."Meanwhile, he is keen to make more movies, though as yet with nothing
specific in mind. Perhaps less music and more story...
"I started off reading old myths and ones not so old but not so wellknown,like American Indian legends, the creation myth of the Navajo,
something like that. There's some good material there; some of it is kindof sexy but fantastic at the same time..."People like us
The new patriotism is also atrick.
It's arealfrightening, scary trick thateveryone wants so badly to believe is true.
The government is selling the country
down the river. The real wealth ofthecountry is in the people.
Empires in retreat get into some pretty
iveird stuff Egypt, Rome, England, Japan,
Spain, and now the United States. They get
this intense pride and nostalgia for what
they imagine they were because they can see
it slippingaway.
America had alot offree moneyfor alongtime. Money thatjust came out oftheground. In Texas itjust shot right out oftheground. All you had to do was look aroundandfind it. When cheap labor ran out, we
just brought some morefrom overseas.

TALKING HEADS

Thefarmer sketched out the extent ofthe
Trilateral Commission control over the
economy, the media, and education-they
control, he said, either directly or indirectly,
IBM, Kodak, the Chase Manhattan Bank,
Exxon, Mobil, General Electric, the BankOfAmerica, EquitableLife, the Ford
Foundation, the Carnegie Foundation,
ITT, American Motors, Safeway, Time Inc,
NBC, CBS, the NewYorkTimes, theWashington Post, Pillsbury, General
Foods, Coca-Cola, and many, many

The expansion got alittle out ofhand,but it's over now. Some ofus might haveseen the tail end ofthe heyday, but now
most ofuscan feel reality settling in.
Some people think it's the end oftheworld... David Byrne in True Stories, thebook ofthefilm

IN AMONG THE jokily exploding Texan
myths and meditations upon hightechnology and cities and roads, deeper
themes emerge. David Byrne statesbaldly in the book what he mirthfully
dramatises in the movie. Like, whatever
happened to American ideals?
"They're kind of empty at the moment,
just slogans. In the film I've tried to showthat some of them can be thought of as
somewhat real- tolerance of difference."
In the film's keynote song, "People Like
Us", the amiably everyman characterLouis Fyne sings, "People like us/Gonna
make it because I
We don't wantfreedom I
We don't wantjustice I
Wejust wantsomeone to love..." Are most people so
preoccupied with their immediateneeds that they abdicate civic anddemocratic responsibilities?
"Mmm-hmm. People really do want more
immediate gratification, and the song puts it
kind of bluntly. Ithink it works in the song,
but it would be difficult to admit that, thatthey'd prefer to have acomfortable sofa andan evening watching TV than freedom of thepress orwhatever."
Are those freedoms taken for granted?
"Yeah, I
suppose so. People of my generation
seem to be more concerned with their careers
than anything else. It seems to be alittle bit outof proportion. I
think it must change eventually.
That awhole generation of people would submit
to being called 'yuppies' -I don't think they'd
put up with that. I
think they'd rather change their lifestyle than admit tobeing ayuppie. It sounds so horrible! Even if it's acomfortable life, itsounds such aderogatory term."
Everything "sounds", "seems", "if" with David Byrne, as if he's
separated from reality by ahypothetical wall of contingency. Has he everactually met anyone who admits to being ayuppie?
"No, ha ha, Idon't think so. I
know that I
like of lot of the same things that
yuppies are supposed to like. I
might like aparticular meal, then I'll readin the paper that it's avery 'yuppie' meal. Ican't help it if it tastes good!
What else? Oh yeah. I
was working out of LA and Ibought aused Volvothat was very cheap, and then I
read that the Volvo is considered avery'yuppie' car. So Ifelt, gosh, I'm treading on dangerous ground here!"more... Nicholas Lemann, Texas Monthly, 1978

It's not whatyou know, it's who you know.
Everybody believes in some conspiracy
or other. The ones you believe in seemcompletely plausible. The ones you
don't believe in seem like they were
thought up by abunch ofnuts and kooks.
Can one person be aconspiracy? Was
supermarket barcoding prophesied in
the Bible? David Byrne, True Stories"THERE'S ONE MAN in particular
who goes around talking to small
communities, mainly the farmers
and people who've been having ahard timeof it lately. He convinces them that it's theRockefellers and the Trilateral Commission who
are at fault, who have caused the banks to holdonto their money. There's an element of truth insome of what he says. Ipersonally don't believe
the Trilateral Commission has amasterplanIdon't think they're chummy enough!"
Are the prophets ofApocalypse stillgoing strong?
"Stronger than ever. I
think they have morethan ever to point to now. To them it's very
obvious that Aids is either the wrath of heaven
or else aCIA experiment gone wrong. Religious
television networks are full of people expecting
the Apocalypse every day and pointing to the signs. And Reagan says hebelieves it as well, which is kind of terrifying. He sees world destruction as
inevitable, and it's just amatter of waiting it out.""I started off
reading old
myths... thecreation mythof the Xavajo"

SINCE WORLD WAR II in NorthAmerica, concentrations of capital
spilled out along new federally subsidised highways, covered oldcountryside with anew suburbia and concentrated around interchanges.
And there we find the profitable new malls...
Shoppinghad become the chiefcultural activity in "our united statesofshopping". GradyClay, The New York Times Book Review, 1985
IN TRUE STORIES, are you saying that today's American democracy now
boils down to freedom of the consumer's choice?
"Ha ha!"Do you celebrate shopping or condemn it?
"I think I'm celebrating, but exaggerating it to the point where it
becomes amusing. But you're right: alot of the responsibility part ofdemocracy has been removed, and the licence part gets emphasised.
"Democracy is just alicence to manufacture or sell anythingyou pleaseor dress howeveryou want. Not that most people exercise it. It leads to a
lot of kooks!"

Slippery people
HAS IT BUGGED you when you've been accused of ethno-cultural
tourism in your music?
"Yeah, it bugged me, but Icouldn't defend myself really because it's true
to some extent. Idon't think there's anythingwrong with it; it's just how
well you do it. So that would be my own defence. There's nothingwrong
with hybridising things, mixing them, stealing little bits and adding
them to something else. Ifyou do it well, it's alright. If you don't do it well,better leave it alone. When we got criticised, it was partly, Iguess, thatwe
weren't doing it good enough."
Partly also, he admits, that for some critics NewYork intellectuals bydefinition can't do anything right. But David Byrne can live with that
attitude. Flipping the hybrid coin, how about Prince?
"I still like his records. In the States it's really difficult for ablack
performer to be accepted bywhites on their own turf. The last one would
have been Jimi Hendrix, and he wasn't quite as funky. Sadly there's alarge
number of black performers in the States who would like nothing better
than to 'go white', to play Vegas and do soppy ballads... I'm generalising."
How much is the black tradition of "body music" to do with whitestereotyping?
"That's true to some extent. But there is some sort of black culture that
fosters adifferent attitude to dance. In black culture there's alot more
physical contact."
Is white culture getting more physical?
"Yeah, I
think they've loosened up alittle bit!"
And maybe the one-time uptight white culture-vulture is loosening up
abit too. The Jonathan Miller of pop? I
th in khe's barely started. marsnow •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I121

LODILMAKER
CRELIEFPET SHOP BOYS, FELT,THE THE, MY BLOODYVALENTINE AND MORE

WHEN THE
WHIP
COMES
DOWN
•/, "..J TIE RESIDENTS

INN) U" CO rCer

/UV,,C

Experimenting
with new lineups
NMENti
RINCE HAS DISBANDED his backing group
The Revolution, who have played with him for
four years, and is currently putting together
aMark II version.
Hidden away at his Minneapolis headquarters, heis experimentingwith new lineups, although it isrumoured that Maserati- who released aPrinceproduced album on Paisley Park earlier this yearwill provide the backbone of the group.
As for The Revolution, Bobby Z, who has been
drumming for Prince for 10 years, will resume his
production career, which started with an album by
The Suburbs, produced under the pseudonym ofRobert Brent. Guitarist Wendy Melvoin and keyboard
player Lisa Coleman are planning an album together
and are currently being courted by half-a-dozen
record companies and several big-name producers.
They are also poised to write amajor film score, set
for release in 1987.

122

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

•

.
fr

•

-• t••••

fi

Prince on stage during
the1985 Purple Rain
Tour, with opening act
Sheila Eand Revolution
guitarist Wendy Melvoin

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I123

1986
üe08

R

MB R
November 8,1485: The Falls
second and fmalappearance on
ChanneI4 pop
show The Tube•e Á
1. epode
4f

1."

\ ‘,
"I just wrote what
Iwanted to write"

RI-X IIAll RI-s

NME 013 Fall frontman Mark ESmith writes aplay.
"There's demonic possession, Italian fascists..."AT CAUSED THE death ofLuciani Albino, Pope John Paul I,
after only 33 days on the papal
throne in1978?
Was he really avictim of the Vatican's inner
sanctum, the dreaded P2 Masonic lodge,
worried that the self-styled "Smiling Pope"
was about to rid the church of its excess
wealth and corruption? Did the strict Jesuitbrethren, fearing that Luciani was about togive the OK to contraception, spike his cocoawith digitalis? Why was there never apostmortem or adeath certificate issued? And
how does it all tie up with Italian banker Calvi,found swinging from aWaterloo underpass,and the Mafia's money-laundering system?
All these and many more questions will notnecessarily be answered in Hey! Luciani, thefirst play from Mark ESmith, already provento be one of Britain's sharpest and funniest
writers with The Fall, and now embarking onanew format and presentation.
Some three months in preparation, andbeing revised and rewritten right up to its
opening week, Hey! Luciani is initiallyscheduled for atwo-week run at London'sRiverside studios in Hammersmith.
"I got interested in Luciani after readingDavid Yallop's book In God's Name awhileago. "Hey! Luciani", the single, was written for
the Bend Sinister LP and we thought it would
be agood idea to do afull-scale Fall projectaround it -the subject matter appealed to our
124 I
HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

sense of humour. The first thought was to
do it as the book did, but I
just wrote whatI
wanted to write, the papal characters are in
no way factual, it's not like they really were.
"I've taken liberties all over the place andthe characters stimulated me on to otherthings," explains Smith.
From fragments of rumour and description,
Hey! Luciani would appear to be an antipolemical piece of dramatic intrigue, amusical thriller, acomedic conspiracy theory;
all fertile settings for Smith's convoluted
plotlines and maverick
genius. Reluctance tostick to tried-and-trusted"fact" is only proper inthe circumstances; thepossibilities inherent inreligious and big-businessscandals are limitless andfantastic. Just like aFall
song, in fact.
"The play is a
stimulation of theconspiracy theory inthe book, the middle
bit splits up into otherthings -South America
and Britain, f'r'instance.
No way is it afactual
indictment of Catholicism
or even the Vatican.
People think when they

hear it's about the pope that it must either
be a"rock musical" or anti-religious
statement or something. Which is asadreflection on the way the theatre isviewed in this country. I
chose the setting
because the characters appealed to me
and hopefully it makes good drama."
The play lasts about 100 minutes andfeatures new Fall music themes for eachcharacter ;"Haf Found Bormann" (for the
all-girl Israeli commando group who
appear as amysterious but vitalconnection in the thickening plot), "Sleep
Debt Snatches", which has areggae
atmosphere, amachine heart and spine
cracking drumbeat, and "Informant"
which, fittingly in view of posthumous
revelations about the cheeseburger being
anarc is "the Elvis Presley type number."
Apart from The Fall, there's Trevor
Stewart as the pope, Lucy Burgess as theballet dancer and pope's right-hand girl,
Michael Clark has abrief role and Leigh
Bowery, star of the excellent Smithdirected video for "Mr Pharmacist",
is head of accounts at the Vatican. Why
aplay and not TV programme or video
film for all this, Mark?
"I wanted to do something where thewords could be heard on their own there's alot of bits where there's justgoing to be words on their own. I'm not in
it alot myself; Ido afew numbers and therest of the time is just narration anddirection of others.
"It's more like afilm than aplay, because
it's been severely edited. The thing I
stillhave to get organised is getting people
on and off stage. I've got one scene thatis 10 seconds and the longest scene is aminute and ahalf. Certain people find that
hard going, but I
enjoy that. It keeps you on
your toes."
Aweek before the play, Mark completely
rewrote the third act -wasn't that amite
disconcerting for all the others?
"Not really, because before it had been
abit disconnected, they were saying, 'We cansee what you're trying to do, but it needs
something else.' With the new third act, it allfits; if you're sharp enough there's areal
conspiracy to follow. There's demonic
possession, Italian fascists, ex-Nazis, aScottish communist..."So, it's not been thehaphazard rush job thatrumour has made out?
"That's the impression
Iwanted to give. It's fucking
great, actually, dynamic."
Does it comparewith anything?
"It's like across between
The Prisoner andShakespeare. There's
even pieces that rhyme
and stuff -quite
surprising, actually.
"It was our own idea,
we financed it and we're
not going to make any
money off it, but it's agood little thing to do,alleviates the tedium.""It's like acrossbetween The
Prisoner andShakespeare"Cliff Burton, diedin Sweden touring
Metallica's MasterOf Puppets

n -HRINKRAP!

MM OCT 4

America
God, guns and guts made America. It's
the only place that has whole neighbourhoods of fake18th-century houses.

Alcohol
If you try as hard as possible to become
an alcoholic and you get around that,you never will be in your life.

Vegemite, Fosters, kangaroos, G'day mate,
How y're doing, AC/DC. Home -someday
I'll get there.

wants to kill somebody. That's not the way
to do it though. It's the easiest but it's not
the most satisfying. I
think, with aMagnum,
it could be though -you can feel the kick.
Clint Eastwood looks pretty satisfied.

HeroesIan AstburyàydneyMM OCT 11 Metallica's bassist
is killed in abus crash.

M

ETALLICA BASSIST CLIFF
Burton has been killed in aroad
accident. Burton was thrownthrough the window of the band's tour
bus when it crashed en route from gigs
in Stockholm to Copenhagen last Saturday(October 28). Drummer Lars Ulrich was
also injured in the crash and "critical" inhospital for several days. He has since
fully recovered. Another member of theroad crew died in the accident.
Burton, who was 24, will be buried in
his hometown of San Francisco.

"In abad light"
NME OCT 18

THE DEAD KENNEDYS have run into
more trouble over their Frankenchrist
album. The group has read reports that
the Shriners, America's Masonic-stylebrotherhood, are suing them for $45
million over aphotograph that appearson the cover of the LP, although they have
yet to hear anything official. The reports
say the Shriners are accusing the group of"holding them in abad light".
Vocalist Jello
Biafra said: "Thisstinks of petty
harassment.
America is the
only country in
the entire
Western world
where the laws
are rigged insuch away thatanyone would
even thing of
filing alaw suitas ludicrous as
this one."car loverMichaelHutchencein
Montreux,
Switzerland,
Mayi986

Inever know if Ihave any or not, but I
guess, uh, Tony James, Marc Bolan, Iwon't
say David Bowie because he knows it
anyway, Gandhi and James Dean.

Villains

Jack Nicholson and Donald Sutherland -he
has long grey hair. Isaw him in arestaurant
in Paris and he looked like he did in thatmovie where he stabbed people all thetime. What was it called? Other villains my old man and my brother, Rhett.

Automobiles
Ilove cars. Did you know the E-Type Jag
was built around acock 'n' balls? If you turnone upside down, that's the basic shape.
Ithink aracing car's the best way to killyourself. Paul Newman got it together.
He's well into racing cars. That's the way to
go. And he's always been married. Racingcars keep your marriage together.

SuicideFast cars into awall, 400 miles an hour, or
one Quaalude every hour until it stops.

Embarrassment
Falling over on stage at Red Rock before
I'd even sung anote. Twice!

Fears
Don't have any.

DreamsDo dreams
come true?
Idon't know.
Ithink they
probably do,so make yourdreams big.

Guns
Everybody has afascination withguns, everybody

Agreat guy who convinced me to throwadoor out of alo-storey hotel, for which,in true English tradition, they charged me"80 ponds, sir" in the morning. That wasin the Holiday Inn. Iwas showing him how
small the bathrooms were and took off thebathroom door. We were outdoing one
another all night. He's aman possessed. He
also has arather beautiful girlfriend.

Tomorrow
San Francisco. When we were there last,
we went up to Bill Graham's place for thisIndian curry -he even brought up the
people from the restaurant with theirown tandoori oven. His house is right up
in the hills, surrounded by eucalyptus
trees -it's like being in Australia -and his
10- or n-years-old son was standing at thisbig telescope at the front window. We
walked by and asked him what was down
there and he said: "Look at all the poor
people, Ican see all the poor people fromhere!" That was agreat lesson -never let
your kid end up like that.

Aids
The plague of the '80s, that's the phrase,
isn't it? It must be very scary for alot of
people right now. Ihope friends of mine
don't get it. It's weird to know some ofthem have an incredible chance ofcatching it and Idon't. I've already beentested for it -for insurance. Maybe it's
something to do with Reagan. Maybe
it's the leftover from some chemical
warfare tests. You never know what
the fuck it is. Maybe the Russians tried
dropping it on Haiti or something. It'ssuch amoral disease.

John Wayne
A big, fat, bean-eating, beer-swilling,
cancer-ridden asshole blowing people
away from his country. He, to me, isthe epitome of everything that's wrong
with America.
HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I125KRASSNER IGETTY, ANDRE CSILLAG IREX FEATURES

Haircuts
Never had one.

My Bloody Valentine
in1986:(4)Dave
Conway, Debbie
Googe,KevinShields
and ColmÓCiosóig

MM

Introducing... My Bloody Valentine. "We seem to have alot of bite."

N11 kIN1()11T1

A

TLAST -the impending death ofanorak... and here comes the fatal
stab in the back. Just as we find thismonotonous musical phase peaking, with theindie charts dominated by twee cherubs
plying excruciatingly dull tributes to Pete
Shelley's (rare) embarrassing moments, My
Bloody Valentine have arrived to reclaim theyoung pop audience for punk 'n' roll.
And not amoment too soon. From the moredubious haunts of Dublin's fair city via some of
the legendary sleazeholes of Europe, they
have come to reside in London and areappalled by what they find. Groups being
touted as the best of the indie scene, better
suited plying their dull cabaret tunes inamateur talent evenings ;ascene that has been
ossified by the dominance of aclique of bands
for whom the very precepts of rock'n'roll havethe same effect as the scent of whisky to the
Women's Temperance Movement.
Wimps, in other words -and if this turgid
and terminally boring situation can be seen as

126 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

acreeping disease, then My Bloody Valentine
are the cure. Make no mistake about it -theyplan to show these bands up for the drab,
mediocre, middle-of-the-road wets they
really are. My Bloody Valentine are rude andvulgar and noisy, and as if that's not enough,they write the best pop songs you've ever
heard and perform with afervour, with achallenging defiance, that these other bands
just wouldn't understand.
"How can people get excited about bands
like them. I
mean, they're just so fucking dull,
and they're clogging up
the whole indie scene with
their childish MOR crap,"
they moan disparaginglyof their toothlesscompetition.
"People are just foolingthemselves if they think
the present indie scene
is genuinely alternative
to anything."

My Bloody Valentine boast asense of
humour and they're no strangers to squalor,
having exiled themselves from Ireland to
spend ayear bumming around the cheapest
hostelries of Holland and Berlin, playing theseedier outposts and cruising with poverty
before launching their attack on the British
music scene. "We came to London to be richand famous. We also knew it was the only
place we could get the dole."
Singer Dave (who makes apractice of
hurling his delicate frame at his audience),
drummer Colm (the manwith the maniacal grin) andguitarist/songwriter Kevin(who once harboured acrush on Susan Day)
auditioned for abass
player, in the end finding
Debbie, who is agirl.
"The first practice I
wentto, there were no songs,"
she remembers. "For the"People are foolingthemselves if they
think the indie
scene is genuinely
alternative"

I
HE GREAT VALENTINESWIMPY POP

first month of practisingI
felt sick every day 'cos !justwasn't used to the noise."Debbie has now been in
the band for ayear and theirsongwriting, Kevin says, has
improved. They write
bright, noisy, catchy tunes
full of melody, excitement
and personality, exploding
love songs with alunaticenergy that's awelcome
antithesis to the feeble dithering of theirsupposed peers.
Imagine being aDavid Cassidy fan, thenhearing the Ramones and suddenly realisingwhat music ought to sound like. My Bloody
Valentine should have the same effect on ayoung audience who are being steadily fed
adiet of insipid nursery-rhyme music whichhardly stimulates the keen libido.
Kevin: "What we're doing is amuch hardersound than what young music fans are used
to, but the content is there -it doesn't matter
how abrasive the music is, if it's fun they'regoing to recognise it."This is the kind of band that makes fordiehard fans and, when you hear them, you'll
suddenly realise what you've been missing what you've been denied for the past few
years -and defections from the spinelesscamp should come in droves... That's if people
can still recognise what's good for them.
In appearance, theValentines are purposely
confusing. Debbie: "Whenpeople see the haircuts,
they tend to assume we're
wimpy and they always
get quite ashock if they
stay for the gig!"
Ah yes, haircuts, always
acrucial factor.
Dave (indignantly): "Wehaven't got '6os haircuts. It
annoys us when people say we have. Our
haircuts are actually influenced by Down's
Syndrome children's haircuts -I'm not sureexactly why, but alot of retarded children
have these kind of haircuts. I
think our haircuts
are very attractive; damn flattering, too."
Kevin succinctly describes their conscious
deployment of camouflage: "In asense, what
we're doing with the image and the sound of
the band is like throwing ablind around what
we've got. The image is flat, we all look thesame, the sound, the guitars are the same, but
if people want to take it any further, then they
have to look harder. The sound, the image ofthe band is totally superficial -it's fun, it's fun-but there are also qualities in our songs thatreally count for something."
Kevin spent some of his childhood in New
York, he was once bitten by ashark and hecites The Partridge Family as having had amajor influence on his life. Unlike most of ourcurrent songwriters, he is not obsessed withthe sounds of the '6os -though MBV do ply
the odd Monkees cover when the mood takes
them. They like drinking, but not drugs. They
have seen the seamy side of life: "We played
to this heavy hardcore audience in Bremen
once," Dave recalls with some nostalgia.
"They'd been blasted with heavy hardcore

all night and they thought they were, youknow, dead punk -and then we came on!"
"They couldn't understand our sound forthe first few minutes," says Kevin gleefully.
"The fact that there was melody and noise-and then they went mental and we had todo three encores.""We lived in squalor in Amsterdam for awhile," Dave winces. "We were in acheap
hostel and they throw you out to walk thestreets at lo in the morning, so we spent alotof time cruising around the post office
watching the drug addicts and prostitutes...
people with scabs all over. It's when they
started to get friendly that we knew it wastime to move on."In Berlin, they released their first record,amini-album, This Is Your Bloody Valentine,and, though an EP, "Geek", was released here
on Fever Records in April, the band feel that
their new EP, out this week, is far more
representative of how they want to be.
The New Record By
My Bloody Valentine
is released on the new
Kaleidoscope Sound label,run by Creation's black
sheep Joe Foster. With aselection of four perfectly
contoured and viciously
attractive songs to choose
from, it spotlights theirdirection and issues adirect
challenge to the soggy
bleatings of our currently touted indie heroes.
Colm: "We've changed alot since the last
single, and as far as band progression goes,
well we've come along way since then."
Kevin cites the main reason for their
enthusiasm about this record: "The mainthing for us is that this EP is coming out
within amonth of making it. It's exciting, it's
fresh and it's exactly captured how we are asaband right now. Afew of the songs were
only written amonth or so ago. It's areal
document of what we are now."
This, surely, is the way records ought
to happen.
Kevin: "We want it to always be like this, wehope this won't be afreak occurrence, having
arecord out while we still sound the way it is."With song titles like
"Destination Ecstasy"and "We're So Beautiful",
their intent is anincitement to have fun
Kevin: "We're So
Beautiful' will probably
be misinterpreted.
Dave: "Oh, I
don't
know -Ithink it could
be taken at facevalue, really!""Basically, oursound relates to a
primal experiencethat everybody
has to go through"Reviewers still haven't pinpointed the
Bloody Valentine sound -perhaps because
they plunder all the best aspects of rowdy pop
without reverentially exposing their roots.
Kevin has spent hours listening to obscure'6os and '7os bands trying to find out where
his inspiration come from.
Dave: "Basically, our sound just relates
to aprimal experience that everybody has
to go through. Some people say our lovesongs actually sound abit sick... in aNabokov
sort of way!"
Kevin: "Whenever we play with thesebands who look to the Velvet Undergroundand all that stuff, we still seem alot moresubversive than that stuff, we still seem tohave alot of bite."
Kevin isn't old enough to remember the'60s, but he's been doing some researchrecently and concludes that "óos music ismuch more attractive than '7os music basically, if any band has something goodabout them that we like, then we'll take it rightoff them and do it better than them!"
My Bloody Valentine are raring toprove themselves against the current tideof mediocrity.
Dave: "I can't stand all these people whowant to listen to five-year-old Orange Juicerecords -we don't have any regard orreverence for the people who are telling usthat these drab indie bands are where it's at."And anyone who's witnessed MBV live will
certify that their claims are not just aload of
hot air. Live, MBV perform with amanic
intensity, fuelled partially by Colm's insane
battering of his drumkit, partially by Dave's
extraordinary PJ Proby contortions and, mostof all, by the driving, spectacularly melodic
brand of noise that confirms their ascendanceas the perfect replacement for the tameelements that we've allowed to dominate our
independent charts.
My Bloody Valentine are going to sweep all
the wets before them and clear the slate forthe kind of new music that we're too stupid torealise we really need.
"We'd like to rock afew boats," Dave admits,"but not in that pathetic Jesus And Mary
Chain way. We just want to be the best band
there's ever been. We know we're fucking
brilliant, and we've only
just started really."
My Bloody Valentine
are the best new band in
Britain. If you think The
Smiths or The Shop
Assistants are where it's
at, you'll hate them. But
be warned.., your cosy
little world is about to beblown squarely apart.
Helen Fitzgerald

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I127

1986
UGT [B

image
REVIEW

Iggy: writing"hisownelegy
in the idiom ofmodern pop"

ALBUMS
Iggy Pop

A&M"I'm areal wild one" -lggy Pop,1986
Oh yeah? Blah, blah, blab!
"The only true performance,"says Mick Jagger in Performance,"the only one that makes it all theway, is the one that achieves
madness." That was1969 andJagger's performance was a
premonition of his future, theisolated rock star aspiring to, butnever achieving, blackness; theperformer who lost his demon.
Three years later, Jagger was
still sane after all these years andthe freaky little beast had its
128 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

immolation of Pop, the key
to the door that opens out
into irrelevance, nothingcomes my way indeed.
Here, now that thesurrogate Pops of the interim
have died their petty deaths(does anyone mourn for The
Sisters Of Mercy?), now thatDavid Bowie and Mick
Jagger have reached thesame level of the novelty
superstar single, Iggy
makes his return hooked
up once more with Bowie-what is this, arest homerecord for fallen heroes or
acompetition for the most
redundant human being on
the planet?
The result is precisely
what you would expect.
Adult Orientated Decadence-songs dedicated tosunglasses, lines like "I'mawild one" and "Deathmeans nothing atoll" -andas an attempt to apply thecompact disc aspirant
methodology to the art ofPop (deceased) it's fine.
Unlike the latterday
Rolling Stones, itnever sounds
desperate, only sad.
Iggy has taken his
myth, derided it
and written his own
elegy in the idiom ofmodern pop -"Cry For
Love" is the saddest song
Madonna never sung.
Blah, Blah, Blah is halfway
between The Idiot and "MaterialGirl". It's an LP dripping withirony, but
I'm quite genuine when I
say it's
the best we can expect from Iggy
today. Don Watson, NME Oot4

claws deep in the backs of Pop
and Bowie. Where the Stones
had anticipated the destructionof the end of the Sos, Bowie and
Pop were its products -runaway
sons of nuclear A-bombs?
Well sure, it might sound naive,
but to areceptive adolescentlooking at the ripped and torn
torso of Pop, and the translucent
skin stretched tight over aflint
skull, it was possible to believe his
body might just break open rightthere from some internal fission.
After his derisory self-abuse,
what was left when Pop faced thebrink but the body itself? Lust
For Life charted the progressfrom excess to the physical in

exelcis, while thepast of Pop leered
from another hatchet
face -"A bit of fuckology/No
fuuuuuuun."
When destruction once more
ended in death -Altamontechoed in aroom in the Chelsea-the message was clear. Top
yourself or get off the Pop! In hislast masterful moment, Iggy Pop
in New Values, aka Mick Jagger
singing "Gimme Shelter", aka
David Bowie's desperation on"Heroes", aka John Lydon on"Chant", bellowed the death ofthe old, even if the future looked
as blank as the face in the mirror.
"New Values" was the self-

The Edge

VIRGIN

Being the elevation ofacelebrated Irish guitar playerfrom amere rock'n'roll vagabondto the respectable status of film
score composer. It's an unspoken
milestone, an invisible mark of

I-. IU1
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singing of Sinead O'Connor,
and the song itself wielding a
haunting mesmeric quality overan ethereal volley of strings.
The Edge's own distant jangling
ties the loose ends perfectly andthe whole thing meets withgloriously understated tension.
It should be ahit, and if it is thenit should inspire interest in thealbum and the film. But I
can't
honestly get excited about thefilm, having listened to the music.
And I
can't imagine that seeing
the film, however good it may be,
will send people running out of
the cinema to the record shops.
Perhaps this sort of thing isbest left to Mark Knopfler andhis cronies. Colin Irwin

Felt

My Bloody Valentine
KALEIDOSCOPE SOUND

CREATION

The thing I
like best about
Lawrence of Felt is that not onlyis he not afraid to wear his
influence on his records -heinsists upon it and revels in themthroughout. Round about now,
Lawrence is having aLou Reedphase. You know that by thetone of the vocals and theirmannerisms, by the feel and flow
and atmosphere of the songs, by
the cheerlessness of the lyrics.
Any exploration of the poetic
imagery, the religious reference,
will reveal quite clearly that
Lawrence is not aparticularly
contented type of person. At
times, he appears positively
tragic -"I'm not your Jesus, so will
you get off mycross/You ruined itall" ("A Wave Crashed On
Rocks"). And you need look nofurther than the title to get thegist of "All The People I
Like Are
Those That Are Dead".
The music, however, refuses
to brood. I
wouldn't necessarily
endorse this as the "whole LP ofconcise pop songs" which waspromised by Felt, but there isindeed alight-handed vitality
to be found in the guitar playing,in the delightfully
old-fashioned pipings of theorgan and electric piano.
The thing I
like second best'
about Lawrence from Felt
is that not only is he notafraid to soundblatantly like Lou
Reed -he gets awaywith it too, because
Felt are also Felt,
and there's enoughof Felt in here torescue what mightotherwise haveseemed like ajokethat went on just thatlittle bit too long...
Carolaerk

The Housemartins

SINGLES

Alright, let's make it official:this is where anorak ends and it
couldn't be booted into pasttense by abetter record. Fourbrilliant slabs of romantic pop
noise on an EP so brimmingwith vitality and action that its
undiluted and joyful revelling in
fun, fun, fun will show up thespineless anorak crew for theboring wimps they are.
"Lovelee Sweet Darlene"
is anew pop classic; so
simple, so soppy, so loudwith everything you've everwanted all on one record racing melodies, deadpan
harmony, manic drummingand (and let's not forget how
important this ingredient canbe) asense of humour.
"We're So Beautiful" justmight be tongue-in-cheek,
and "Another Rainy Saturday"
comes as living proof thatMy Bloody Valentine havestockpiled the best collectionof new songs you've ever heard.
This is more than teenage
fantasy -this is the start ofsomething new and it hasn't
arrived aminute too soon. Thisband are going to be huge remember where you read it
first. r4/4,oct.4

GO ,DISCS

Are-recording of one of
the best album tracks, strippedbare and distinguished bybeautiful high-pitched balladic
vocals and aluscious trumpet
that caresses the wholesong perfectly... Of
all the wets, The
Housemartins areÍtprobably close tobeing the best.
Top pop stars or•••:ttotal willie noses?
44.
Only time will tell.
0
frimoct4e•

11e

The Shop Assistants

4.

4,t,411
''..„
ke

r
te`t
+4 ee 4,bey,

J'

ROUGH TRADE

This is where anorakism peaks-from here it has to be downhill
all the way. How we've put up
with this rubbish for so longis one of those strange
phenomena that strikes themusic business every now andthen. Twee beyond the reaches
of belief, let's bring abit of balls
back into this whole sorry indie
business. And let's do it NOW.
OCt4

Squirrel Bait
HOMESTEAD

Last year's debut by Squirrel
Bait (from Louisville, Kentucky,
Muhammad Ali's hometown)
left Hüsker Düde Bob Mould
World Party
muttering "bout the finest
CHRYSALIS
record in the entire universe".
"Kid Dynamite"/"Slake Train
The first solo single from
Coming" (H MS061) finds theex-Waterboy Karl Wallinger,
teenage upstarts taking more
whose ecology-minded
than just praise from HD
philosophies are encapsulated(power over volume, any day)in asong from his great new LP,
and proves
with funky
thatoldovertones
my blogdy valen ne
Blob knows
and astrong(
adecent
pop melody
racketcouching hiswhen it
instructive
sandblasts
wisdoms.
his ears.
Asmasher.
NME Novl
mmoct4
ROCK 1986 I129YOURILENQUETTE/REXISHUTTERSTOCK

growing up, as if by having yourname to afilm score is abarometer of maturity... you
suddenly leave the civilian ranks
of Bert Weedon and Hank B
Marvin and instead become an
officer and agentleman, moving
in the realms of John Barry andAndrew Lloyd Webber.
Well, if this is The Edge's
coming of age, fair play to him let him have the key to the doorby all means -but don't
misunderstand what you're
getting here. It's not The Edge's
solo album as such... it's asoundtrack of incidental music
for afilm, and like most incidental
music of any sort, it'sas dreary as stale yoghurt out ofcontext. Don't be enticed by theprospect of awhole album of
searing guitar work executed so
majestically with U2; here it's all
breathy atmospherics and blandorchestrations, and occasionally("One Foot In Heaven") it offers
an alarming resemblance toTubular Bells.
It's possibly unfair to pass
judgement on the music without
having seen the movie -"a tale ofsurvival and renewal.., asuspense story, by turns violent,eroticand funny" -but it's hard also
not to feel some sense of
disappointment that amusicianof The Edge's vision and depth
hasn't been confident enough tobreak the mould alittle bit anduse the visual imagery to more
original effect.
It's surprising, too, that given
U2's flirtations with the roots ofIrish music, he hasn't exploredthis area to greater effect. It's
unthinkable that the music here-largely mellow and soporific could stimulate any feelings thatmight be violent, erotic or funny.
The one exceptional track is,of course, the single, "Heroine",
the only non-instrumental in thepack, featuring the sublime

eoti

1988
610

OR R

coui

"The best
times,
the worst
times"For the new THE TH
album, Matt Johnson
has taken adramatic
personal journey.
Politics, sex, religion,and filming in SouthAmerica have all
created the mighty
Infected. "The powerand beauty of musicis that it lets you haveyour own fantasies,"
he says.

130 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

NME ECEMBER1à

1

TWAS DIFFICULT to believe at first. Matt
Johnson had kept the world and his record
company waiting three years for asequel to therevered Soul Mining, and now he was telling usthat the record's release depended entirely on
an epic video shoot that would take inextravagant locations from Bolivia to Peru to New York
Publicly the project was greeted with the hooted derisionnormally reserved for the government's pained attempts
to explain another round of party bottom-spanking,Hitler impersonations and spies in red underpants.
Having already furnished Johnsonwith ahome studio and enough cash tosee him through two traumatic years ofprocrastination and artistic inertia,
could CBS really be expected to dishout another £350,000 for this wild
adventure? The fact that his manager,
Stevo, was losing money hand over fist
through his other artists on Some
Bizzare, forcing him to sell his home andmove into the office, hardly gave theproject substance either.
Laughing, perhaps, in the face ofdefeat, Stevo had also taken to dressing
like the court jester. Would you givemoney to aman wearing felt boots withsilver toecaps and acoat made fromassorted deckchairs? CBS did. »"I ended up becoming
the song": The The's
Matt Johnson turns hischest into acanvasfor
Infectedcover artist
Andy Dog, his brother

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 1131

19 L
B,,

Taking into account the costs of the LP, Johnson committed himself toahalf-million-pound debt and set about realising apersonal dream thatwould leave him with apocketful of priceless visions and footage thatblurred fantasy with reality to unsettling effect.
Video makers Peter Christopherson, Tim Pope and Alastair MclIwain
were recruited as well as movie director (Static) Mark Romanek. Aftermonths of rumour and speculation, abandoned locations and Some
Bizzare hype, it was announced that aseries of videos had been madereflecting the eight songs from the Infected LP.
On the evening of the premiere at the Electric Cinema on West London's
Portobello Road, we waited patiently for the heavyweight CBS executives
to turn up, no doubt anxious to knowwhy they had helped fund an
expedition to apart of South America best known in the music businessfor the quality of its cocaine.
Johnson, ditch ing his customary jeans and leather jacket, was dressedin homburg and overcoat like ayoung Tom Waits, maybe in deference toone of his inspirations, who might have worked on the Infected LP had
other commitments not prevented him. He looked pale and nervous,
taking furtive swigs from asmall bottle of vodka inside his coat. His
family, pub landlords from the East End, made jokes in the back row. Still
we waited...
The CBS execs arrived like the mafia filing into aNew York court room.
Great big men marching silently in aline, one in aseersucker jacket,
another in the kind ofloud check trousers beloved by those who consider
the ultimate pleasures to be business and golf, preferably both at the sametime. They seemed to keep coming for ages, and it dawns that these days
Matt Johnson is no longer the bedsit boywonder but white-hot property.
"I'm going to circle the world on the wing ofa jet." Aneon glowing text
trickles across the screen to the eerie babble of shortwave radio. The roarof "Infected" introduces itself with ear-busting volume. Turning around,I
see the men at the top clutching their heads in pain. They look like they
just heard The Boss had been killed in aplane crash.
"I wanted them to pay attention," comments Stevo later, blood in hisears and bells on his feet.
At the end of the screening everybody seemed stunned. There wasalongpause before the audience
broke into applause. You could
really only recall fragments fromkeeledthe dense collage that had gone
before. Tim Pope's brilliantly
simple approach on "Slow Train
To Dawn" with its classicallyfilmed images, the thrashes ofadying fish in Mark Romanek's"Sweet Bird Of Truth", Alastair
Mcllwain's haunting animationfor "Angels Of Deception", andthe rambling humour, energy
and claustrophobia of Peter
Christoperson's rush throughSouthAmerica in "Infected" and"The Mercy Beat".
Asecond look confirms that the videos
are certainly awelcome departure from thetypical MTVbubblegum that America soeagerly shoots up in stupefying great doses,
and the more ambiguous amongst themwill probably stand up to repeated viewing.
Nobody can claim they represent
acoherent whole, however, and thelinks, snatches of lyric and handheld
Super 8footage are more pauses thannarrative explanation.
But the quality of the work aside, thesevideos raise an inevitable question.
Why have asingle image dictated to you
when your own imagination is capableof generat ing hundreds? In retrospect,
Irealise that by seeing the videos first,
my feelings towards the LP were badly
prejudiced. Matt Johnson was rubbing
our noses in the world's misdemeanours
and expecting us to be grateful for thethe

132 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

experience. And really, this stuff smelt bad. You gagged. Some of theimages, especially ofwomen, seemed malevolently cruel. Other scenes
were so choked with religious imagery, it waslike being locked in atacky
Catholic shrine.
I
decided it was arecord of unnecessary pessimism, but I
was wrong.
There's an extraordinary defiant optimism in Infected that helps makeit one of the most exciting records this year. The real big bang!
One has to ask, did it need avideo at all?

Nu JOHNSON USUALLY does what he wants and gets what
he wants. If CBS or adevil of his own making get in his way,
he'll slug out on the ropes just like his grandfather did in theboxing ring. One of his biggest heroes is Marvin Hagler, "because heachieved everything he wanted to".
Though he's been involved in music for 10 years now, he's only madethree LPs. BurningBlue Soul in his late teens, Soul Miningin his earlytwenties and now, at 25, Infected-all testimony to apersonal maxim thatyou should only work when the inspiration takes you.
When CBS refused to release "Sweet Bird Of Truth", his comment on
America's involvement in the Middle East, in the wake of the Libyan
crisis, he forced it out as alimited edition. Knowing that they werelikely
to cause controversy in the current climate, he then chose two more
singles from the LP, "Heartland" and "Infected", which were both bannedby the BBC.
I'm not surprised he drinks alot of vodka and pumps alot of iron.
Sometimes he does both together, which is anew one on me. My timing's
good the day I
visit his North London flat-it's strictlyvodka only.
First, Iaskwhy make the videos with all their negative connotations
when the LP was his most powerful record yet. It's something he's
obviously thought about.
"I've made mistakes in those videos and things that I
would change
now... The problem is, you tie your images down, you're being so
specific. Also, when I'm workingwith other people, other directors, I'm
compromising my ideas. If you've seen the video before the record, you'regoing to have those images with you... The power of music and the beautyof music is that it lets you have your own fantasies.
"But Idon't regret making them. I
came to acrossroads in my career,
really. Having not played live for three-and-a-half years and havingsuch alow profile- for instance, not having my picture on my sleeves,
Idecided to raise the whole stakes of the thing and risk becoming
known alot more as apersonality, which is not really something I'm
keen on. Idon't want to push my personality, although that is abit ofacontradiction.
"Also, I'm the first person to have done anything like this. You've
had video albums which are live, or greatest-hits compilations, but toJohnson in thevideofor"Sweet
Bird Of Truth -,which CBS initially,
vetoedasa single

THE THEapproach something like this... I
do consider video
to be arelevant art form, and the people Ichose towork with, like Tim and Peter, were people that workwith me rather than for the record company."
We agree that the video for "Mercy Beat", shotin Peru and Bolivia, is the most successful.
Like those for"Heartland" and "Infected", itwas based on his own ideas interpreted byPeter Christopherson.
Essentially, the song echoes the themes of thealbum: loss of innocence, the schizophrenia
that lies between temptation and salvation, andMatt Johnson's final solution—blind faith.
Its basic scenario: atop-hatted dwarf (there's
just about mileage left in the seminal menacing
midget) offers drugs and magic (a llama foetus),"I wanted to write aclassic song which is basically
representative of its time, arecord that in 1999 people
will put on and it will remind them exactly of thisperiod of time... You know it took 18 months to write
on and off, because Iknew it was the most importantsong Iwas writing."
It's unlikely that the kind of person who would buy
aMatt Johnson record is going to be offended
by his portrayal of the west as the corruptor ofsouls. In the shadows ofAids and nuclear
holocaust, his heavy use of biblical and disease
imagerywould also, one suspects, be deemedentirely appropriate. But what of the images he"I've lived out
the lives of thecharacters. I
call it method
songwriting"

the whisky priest proffers liquor andredemption to go, and the Indians, asoulcleansing voyage up the Amazon.
It's very funny in places and packed withportentous reference points—TS Eliot's
Wasteland, Coppola's Apocalypse Now, Graham
Greene's The PowerAnd The G/oryand evenadash of Orson Welles' Citizen Kane. And you thought Fitzcarraldo was

top heavy.
"Essentially, it's about spiritual salvation, which is why I
wanted to do it
in South America, because of the heavy influence of Catholicism andAmericana. This bizarre pot pourri of cultures and religious ideas andpolitics. It's like all these forces vying for your soul.
"At the end, there's ared bulb swinging and all these images, slogans,advertisingboards, vultures, dead meat, soldiers, flags... It reallysummed up the place we were in and lent itself to the song."
Real life was never far away from the plot. Having Indians as benign
guides proved to be afortuitous piece of typecasting.
"They reallygot into the spirit of things," Matt recalls with amanic glint
in his eyes.
"They were all on hallucinogenics. The guyyou see with the tin hat andabicycle pump was the witchdoctor, their leader. Theywere great blokes,"
he adds gleefully, though what this adds to anthropological knowledge
I'm not sure. "So wild! I'd like to take them to aLondon club somewhere.
Good dancers, too.
"When we did that shot on the bandstand in Iquitos, acommunist
rally came marching through. They wanted to burn down the housesof the rich people. Then they started shouting at us—'Gringos, theexploiters!' The Indians stood around us and protected us.
"I was trying to hurl Stevo out into the crowd to film them. He's going,'Get off, leave me alone.' Then the generator went dead and all the lights
went out. Everybodywas terrified. The communists' leader managed toclimb onto the bandstand. He was screaming, going mad. But two of thechooses for women?
To put it mildly, they're Babylonian. Womenas temptresses, whores and she-devils. Theline from "Out OfThe Blue (Into The Fire)" thatruns "She was lyingon her back with her lips
parted I
Squealing like astuffed pig" is strong
enough in itself, but when it's underlined byanother negative image in Tim Pope's videoof aprostitute thrashing around on abrothel
bed as Matt Johnson suffers another dose of

the existential blues, you begin to wonder.
Only Neneh Cherry is allowed to preserve any sense of female dignity,
and that in itself is some feat considering she appears in another Popevideo ("Slow Train To Dawn") tied down with her legs open on railway
tracks as Johnson thunders towards her on asteam train.
"I can see why it might shock some people," he concedes, "especiallyas I'm supposed to be aperson who's fairly sensitive and stuff. But
Iwas trying to display the weakness of men. Iwas trying to put acrossthe traditional macho viewpoint ofwhich lam prey to as much asanyone else."
Imention Picasso's infamous remark that all women are either
goddesses or whores.
"Well, men do perceive them like that. Imean, Idisgust myself the waythat Ithink alot of the time. Iam chauvinistic alot of the time, and that ispart of that struggle. I'm aware it's bad and wrong. But I
believeyou haveto live through these things to understand them; so many people havethese attitudes, but they're not based on any experience.
"That track was autobiographical. Iget myself into alot of difficult
situations. Ifeel I
have to live out what I
write about. Idon't feel it'sfair if I've never done the things I'm singing about. So, I've done
everything. I've lived out the lives of the characters. It's something
Icall method songwriting."
He laughs for amoment, realising how people might take this aspretentious, but the reminder of all those she-devils has rattled him.

asking us who the hell we think we are in 1986."
Reminiscent in technique to "This Is The Day", the song's tension
springs from the contrast between aclassic pop melody and some very
bitter lyrics. The video just about does it justice, resisting the temptationof monochrome Brit realism even if it does employ some stock images ofAmerican cultural imperialism.
"I was pleased that one worked out well, because that's possibly thebest song I've ever written," he says deadpan. "I'm attacking thoseworking-class Tories and middle class who still think that Britain is on
apar economicallywith France and Germany, when really we're likeHe insists on making one more stab at an explanation.
"I stand by those images I've used, because Ithink they were necessary
to get across the disgustingness of it —the kinds of things men do towomen...I really love women's company, they're stronger than men.
I
thinkfemales are the saving grace of the human race."
Not abad defence, even though he still seemed disturbed. You can
use sexual exploitation like violence in an artistic context to make astatement, but after so much repetition it crosses that invisible line frommeaning into cheap thrills and degradation. It's really something you
have to make your own mind up on.
Yet it seems more than coincidence that Matt Johnson's final
comment on the videos is that "they're all hard hitting. They don't
leave enough room so there's no real dynamic. You can be numbed by
too many images."
Which leads neatly to his next project, afeature-length film to beconceived as the music is written.
"Video has always been an afterthought to the music. And, conversely,with film you put asoundtrack on after shooting. So what I
want to dowhen I'm writing and demoing, I'll work with whichever director I
chooseto work with. The music and film will be equal partners. I
want toexperiment with time, space, colour, silence. The trouble with video is
you're trying to get so much information in ashort space of time."

Portugal. We're apoor country.
"And also, this vile idea that our health service and police force are theenvy of the world. They're the laughing stock of the world! Falling into an
obscene state of disrepair.

nice to girls!" Ian Pye •crew managed to hurl him off.
"Although Idon't think we really capturedwhat went on down there,
Ithink you can see it's not just performance. I
virtually lived that song
while I
was there. Ihad some of the best times and the worst times of mylife there. I
ended up becoming the song."I

IHE OTHER VIDEO which stands out from the rest is for"Heartland", again aJohnson-Christopherson collaboration.
It's the only one in which he performs as asinger, playing out
the '50s rock dream against abackground of Britain in decay. It's reallyAt this stage, he can afford to be vague.
"I really don't knowwhat it's going to be about. This one has been quite
cathartic for me. Maybe the next one will be all flowers and love and being

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I133

1986

"The lastof the 1980s
synth duos"

134 !HISTORY 01 ROCK 1986

pet etop boys

H

NME

IS BEDSIDE MANNER could
calm even the most frightenedof rodents. Relaxed, open, gently
self-deprecating, it encourages thetensed-up joints to soften and sag
beneath their thin covering of flesh
and baby fu r. And the voice, with its blend of northeast burr and cultured, media-world ennui, its
hypnotic emphasis on one or two key words in eachsentence, soothes the nerves still further.
The little pink eyes open wider in trust, the little pink
paws flex and point, then fall into repose. There can be
no threat here.., he's almost sweet enough to be SaintFrancis OfAssisi. It's true.A hamster can rest easy when
Neil Tennant's around.
The man beside me on the beige Dralon couch in thisdisused office at EMI's London headquarters seems anunlikely target for sexual speculation and controversy,
be its nature animal, vegetable, mineral or whatever.
Expensively but anonymouslydressed, hair greying
at the temple and thinning at the crown, friendly andunfailinglywell-mannered, he doesn't even make avery convincing pop star.
But as the more high-profile
half of the Pet Shop Boys (andwhat ahealth warning thatname should carry, thecognoscenti will gleefullytell you), Neil Tennant finds
himself both these things.
He's obviously an astute andhighly intelligent man, so
mustn't the former besomething deliberately
contrived and encouraged tohelp engineer the latter? In
anticipation of denials-a-go-go,
let's marshal the evidence... »CHRIS VAN DE VOOREN /SUNSHINE/ REX /SHUTTERSTOCK

How has aformer pop writer
become apop star and kept his
sanity? Neil Tennant calmly
explains the media landscape,and —horrifyingly —what thenamereallymeans. "We don't want it
to be the authentic rockexperience," he says.

s.

"Ithinkweare
pretentiousand
contrived":Pet
Shop Boys Chris
Lowe(left)and
Neil Tennant

HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 !135

198

OC 0B

*IBER

ITV /REX /SHUTTERSTOCK

July5,1986: the Pet
Shop Boys perf orm"West End Giris" and"Tonight Is Forever"on The Euro Tube

Firstly, there's that name. "Something to do with putting hamsters
up your bum," he's conceded under duress in previous interviews.
Well, until the realitywas spelt out to me recently, it had been acase of
conjuring up the worst possible interpretation and then doubling it-andeven then I'd fallen woefully short. But I
digress.
And then there's the studied ambiguity ofjust about everything else: thesullen insouciance of Neil and partner Chris Lowe as they stare out from
1.P sleeve or poster, from TVscreen orvideo; the homoerotic possibilities
of much of the material on their album Please; the steady refusal to rise to
the bait ofjournalists on their "Are they lovers?" quest. We could go on.
"We've never said anything about our sex lives to the newspapers or tomagazines, and we don't intend to," says Neil. "And that's not aclever ploy
to appear mysterious-although if it has that effect Idon't mind.
"I've always been avery private, even secretive person, and Chris is aswell... I
find it weird talking about it all. Obviously, people are going tolook at our songs and read this or that into them, but the end result of
people just speculating about things is far more accurate than themthinking one thing or another."
How more accurate?
"Because they think hazy things about you, and maybe things are hazy,
you knowwhat Imean?! just don't know why people want to bracket you
in one way or another. It's not what I
want."
Ah-ha. But if that's true, haven't the Pet Shop Boys only themselves toblame by sailing so close to the wind, exploiting the commercial cachet of
their ambiguity without answering the questions that it inevitably raises?
After all, groups like The Communards and Bronski Beat have proved,
thankfully, that being open about your homosexuality needn't harm
your marketability-in Britain at least, if not in the more homophobic US.
So, isn't all the "Are They?Aren't They?" preoccupation just the hoped-for
reaction to acalculated sales ploy?
Neil maintains not, opening his defence by stressing again the innocent
manner in which the group's name was chosen.
"Chris had these friends who worked in apet shop and who were known
as the Pet Shop Boys, so when we needed aname... I
was quite horrified
when Ifound out what it means. Then we thought, 'Who cares what
people think?' Ithink it's quite good in away if people think that."
He then moves on to amore general exposition of the British starsystem: "If you decide you want to be astar, you have to be prepared toshare your private life with the public... However, ifyou decide you don't
want to be seen as astar there's
loads of things you don't do. You
don't do lots of interviews, you
don't do lots of cosmetic photoshoots for My Guy or whatever.
You don't do glamorous videos,
and you definitely don't talk about
your own life."

136 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

He sees it as asimple equation, almost afair one. The bottom line isthat if you court the papers for good publicity, you have to accept theinevitability that one day the pendulum will swing back at you and you'll
get bad publicity. We canal! fill in our own examples.
"It goes back to the do's and don'ts of being apop star," he says, shiftingon the sofa. "You bring it upon yourself if you play that game, being in thetabloids, being super-sexy soaraway George Michael, and the downside isthat there'll be people offering £30,000 for some scuzzy story on you. If
you haven't had the upside, you're less likely to get the downside...
"The Fleet Street papers have acast of characters- it's Britain as asoap
opera. You're either in the series oryou're not, and we're not really in it,
you know? There's Wicksie, Dirty Den, George Michael and Andrew
Ridgeley, Sam Fox Isuppose is the ultimate example... even people who
aren't that successful anymore. People who were amember of the cast
can always make areappearance."H

E'S RIGHT, OF course. In tabloid times like these, when thecharacters created by stylist and strategists in PR companies
and ad agencies can oust the real world from the front pages,
courting the media has to be aconscious decision. Neil draws aparallel between Rod Stewart, who gets press out of all proportion to
his record sales, and Mark Knopfler, who sells millions with Dire
Straits but chooses to avoid the popular press.
"It proves people can still like your records without knowing everything
about you. Being in the papers all the time, the ups and downs of it all, canactually put people off, I'm sure. I'd rather be akind of Kate Bush, youknow, who comes up with areally good record every three years or so thatsounds like no one else and mayor may not be popular."That kind of attitude to privacy and career longevity is fine on apersonallevel -in many ways it seems the only sensible policy for personal andpublic survival. But someone like Jimmy Somerville would surely argue
that apop performer is in aunique position to reassure young people who
may be facing crises of sexual identity by providing them with arolemodel-even ahazy one.
"But at the end of the day that comes down to the kind of person Jimmy
Somerville is, you know," Neil maintains, "and! quite admire him for it.
But it does reflect the kind of person he is, and this reflects the kind of
person' am."
He smiles akind of"so that's that then" smile and scratches an eyebrow.

OF MICEAND MEN

It's odd the way the world works- if
he's not thinking it, Iam. Ifwe
turned the clock back two years it
would be Neil Tennant, Smash Hits
journalist, aman whose private
life could stay private andunquestioned, quizzing someother star about their modus

PET SHOP BOYSPET SHOP BOYS
SUBURBIA
2RECORDS
5TRACKS

operandi. Nowhere he is, former London editor for
Marvel Comics, former mastermind behind thebest-selling book of the '80s, The Daily Book OfHome
Management (just £1.95 from your milkman, plus
three bottle tops), fielding the questions.
He acknowledges the strangeness of the situation,
and admits that his major legacy from an earlier career
as apop hack is ageneral self-consciousness
about the role thrust upon him by success. The
contrast between the two states is somethingthat intrigued him long before it came to haveapersonal application.
"I was always fascinated by this idea that
one day people are on the dole and the next
they're swanning around in alimousine. It
seemed particularly relevant to the kind ofmusic Smash Hits was dealing with. So you'dask famous people if they ever did normalthings. You'd ask Simon Le Bon if he ever did thewashing-up or the hoovering and soon... thenyou actually have success and you find you do
still do the hoovering."
Stardom, it seems, is as much an attitude ofmind as anything else. Neil quotes the example of arecent German TV
extravaganza on which the Pet Shop Boys shared guest honours with half
the British andAmerican charts. He and Chris stood at Number Two in
the Deutsch hit parade and arrived on set alone, carrying their own
suitcases. Other artists like Billy Idol, despite beingwithout acurrent hit,turned up in full star regalia with their own entourages. You can walk
down the road unrecognised and unmolested if you want to and if you go
the right way about it, he would argue.
Because of his experience as apop scribe, much has been made of Neil's
ability to engineer the duo's success through referral to other casehistories. It's atheory he dismisses, saying the Pet Shop Boy approach to
pop was sparked by the interplaybetween his own post-punk, singersongwriter-ish aspirations and Chris' interest in dance and music andassociated with the average British street.
"To me there's somethingvery poignant about the
English suburban street," he says, almost wistfully.
"The bored kids, the people waiting for abus, the way
nothing's like it was...I think' have almost amorbid'You bring it
upon yourself
if you play thatgame, being in
the tabloids"

disco. The mutant child of their twin enthusiasms was almost aborted
the day they heard New Order's "Blue Monday".
"I thought, 'Damn, this is what we're supposed to sound like.' I
thought
we might as well give up then. Ithought we'd missed the boat."
The steamer was yet to sail, though, as we now know.After false starts
and contractual hassles, "West End Girls" emerged as one of the mostunique pop debuts of the decade so far, establishing asound thatsynthesised influences left, right and centre into one detached and ironicwhole, scornfully topping charts the world over.
But then, given that he also had the skill, luck and application to create
hit records, Neil Tennant was certainly blessed with the correct pop
sensibility to sell millions of records. Given the encouragement, he'll tell
you that Dusty In Memphis is his favourite, most brilliant album ever, will
analyseAbba's Bergmanesque period of après-divorce angst, and will say
this about Madonna's "Into The Groove": "When she sings, 'Only when I'm
dancing can I
feel thisfree. .
.', that to me is almost aprofound statement,
although alot of people would think it's just abanal disco record.
"It touches your emotions without referring back to other records. It's
not about sounding like The Velvet Underground or the Buzzcocks- all of
that's irrelevant. It's about feelings and physical sensations. It's about
feeling happy, unhappy, in love, out of love."
Iknowwhat he means. But then that kind of personal response to thecommonplace can never really be measured- someone, somewhere isbound to find your record meaningful, no matter how uninspired it
sounds to everyone else. And anot uncommon charge against the Pet
Shop Boys is that their music is essentially cold, aclever pastiche of othermoods and styles that never really engages the emotions. Are any of thesongs on P/easewritten from the heart?
"A lot of them," says Neil, shifting position again. "Almost all of them.
Many of them are about running away... They're about someone brought
up in amiddle-class background in Newcastle, who doesn't want to haveanormal job, who doesn't want to get pinned down to bourgeois values,
even though he could do that quite successfully and quite easily."
Universal emotions, then, even if Neil does recall them within thespecifics of North Gosforth, Gateshead and the Haymarket bus station in
Newcastle. Asecond recurrent theme, stated most forcibly in the song
"Suburbia", is that of the boredom, frustration and petty cruelties

fascination with that kind of thing. It's unhealthy,
but I
definitely have it. The boredom and theexcitement. I
find it romantic and interesting...
"But then, to me, suburban streets are alsofrightening. When Ilived in Newcastle in theearly '70s, the skinhead thing was very strong...
You'd be waiting for the last bus home andthere'd be all these skinheads about. It was
terrifying. For years, I
was scared of the dark,scared of walking down the streets at night.
"I've completely got over it now-I can even do
it in NewYork. But Ialways feel the threat ofviolence on English streets, to be honest,
because it's there, I
think."

11

HIS FAR INTO acareer launch, it would
seem not unreasonable to wonder
when these disparate Pet Shop Boy
preoccupations (flight, fancy and urban paranoia, perhaps?) are going
to be translated into live performance. After all, the luxury packaging
that swathed review copies of Please way back in March promised an"extravagant stage presentation" before the end of this year, and yet
December is about to blow out without even ahint of amicrophone
and two guitars in some crummy club. Could there be aproblem here?
Neil says not. In fact, the carrot of those glamorous nights in red plush
theatres was just one of those self-fulfilling prophesies that snowball
along without ever self-fulfilling. Journalists kept asking if there wereplans to tour. The Pet Shop Boys kept saying yes. Journalists then asked
when, where and what like, and the Pet Shop Boys started coming up withbigger and better plans until even EMI believed them. Then they noticed
the professed tour was just amonth away and no real preparations had
been made.
Now plans are advanced for the second half of next year, when Neil andChris will star in what amounts to theirvery own "production", designed
and directed (gulp) by luminaries from the English National Opera.
Pretension, contrivance and atotal lack of spontaneity will be the orderof each evening, we are promised. Given the nature of the Pet Shop Boys'
art and their extremely limited experience of live work (some 55 minutes
spread over three venues, two years and two continents), it should be theideal setting.
"We don't want it to be the authentic rock experience, with sax players,ahorn section, three black backing singers, abass player and abrilliant
session drummer. It'll all be programmed, sequenced, more electronic,
and the presentation is going to be dead contrived, it's going to be arty..."But won't this degree of art and artifice just be handing astick to theircritics with which they can be beaten?
"You mean won't it be pretentious and contrived?" asks Neil wilfully.
"Well yeah, Ithinkwe are pretentious and contrived. I'm being the devil's
advocate abit here, but Ilike contrived music, I
like pretentious music...
Ithink the Pet Shop Boys are the last of the 1980s synth duos-that's the
tradition Isee ourselves in."He also admits to another inducement to take to the road-it's theeasiest way of finding out just who their fans are. He anticipates
screaming 14-year-old girls at the front, dodgy characters in raincoatsat the back, and he might not be too far adrift. Anyband that is runner-up
toA-ha in the Smash Hits best group poll while coming second to The
Smiths in the RecordMirrorequivalent can justifiably claim to inspire aschizophrenic following.Any band that follows its whim to put out alowpriced set of dance remoces so that it can call the record Disco, and whichaims to feature collaborations with Dusty Springfield and Larry
Blackmon on its next album, probably deserves such afollowing.
"I often have the feeling that we're underrated," says Neil Tennant,settling back into the beige upholstery, "but then Idon't really like theB-plus school of rock criticism anyway- rated, underrated, overrated."
Whatever wayyou decide to complete your Pet Shop Boys scorecard, letme tell you this. When you go on your holidays and none of your friends
are around, you can safely leave your hamster with Neil Tennant- andwhat higher endorsement can you offer aPet Shop Boy? Dannyiceily •HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 1137

•N

•
.

"Nit.

,
,

"Nodoublechins":(t-r)
Lawrence Hayward,
MartinDuffy,MarcoThomasandGary
AingeinMoseley,Birmingham,1986IS

deadly
serious"Will the genius ofbe overlookedin favour of the eccentricities of theirsinger/songwriter111.11Um ?
He hopesnot. "I can understand people finding it
funny, and I
don't mind provided theyrealise I'm not superficial about it."NME
T

,0 DOUBLE CHINS," the voice pleads withthat hint of recurring desperation to which
only the monotone drone of the West
Midlands accent can do full justice. "Nodouble chins..."The voice has kept up this mantra for closeon two hour s. It belongs to Lawrence, mainspring of Birmingham'sfinest pop group, Felt, and is aimed at the band's other members as
he fretfully directs them through aparticularly arduous photo session at
his Moseley flat.
When his turn beneath the lights arrives,
the voice does not relent- "Have I
got aDC?
Have!?"
There's really no danger, because
Lawrence punctuates every one ofsomething approaching 100 shots withasideways glance into amirror that »P.P. HARTNETTCCHISTORY OF ROCK 1966 I139

986
•
I

8

OCTOBER-never leaves his grasp. It had, after all, taken him fully half an hour tomanoeuvre his baseball hat, and the fringe that flops from beneath it,
into an arrangement that he considers optimum!
But, spectacular as it is, this performance, th is War On Chops, turns
out to be amere overture for asymphony ofWonderland weirdness, acrack-pop crackpot story to match the best of 'em.

L

AWRENCE'S DEEP DREAD of excess face is being exposed, Ishould explain, because Felt have, with their new, Creationissued LP, Forever Breathes The Lonely Word, finally justified six
years (and four previous albums) of slog and, it must be said, tantrum,
wilfulness, indulgence and anotoriously erratic marshalling ofobvious talent.
In some ways Forever.., has come out of the blue, following, withindecent haste, their equally snappily titled Let The Snakes Crinkle Their
Heads To Death. That, Felt being Felt, was aperverse, difficult collectionof instrumentals. The band loved it, the critics laughed nervously, andFelt's fans cast it the determinedly averted gaze usually reserved for aneighbour's mentally retarded offspring.
The new arrival, by distinct contrast, is being cooed at and tickled
under the (correctly shaped) chin by all who've heard it. It's alatticeof gloriously gloomy language clinging to an almost celebratory,
Hammond-fuelled music that ought to be jarringly inappropriate
but politely declines the role.
It's all in there-beat poetry, biblical wildcats, fawnish innocence andneon-bright pretension combining in asmall triumph of literate pop. Its
lyrical dexterity equals anything on even The Go-Betweens' Liberty Belle
And The Black Diamond Express and the opening, non-comedy side of
The Queen Is Dead. One of the year's absolute elite, it advances Felt to thevery threshold of the door marked Restricted Area-Pop Stars Only.
Knowing which, of course, in no way prepares you for the triple-decker
oddness of adaywith Lawrence. You turn up tooled with your blurredmental Polaroids of half-finished shows, aborted interviews, unnatural
fastidiousness and areported sensitivity that'd make Liz Fraser, bycomparison, atwin of the Kray variety. You know too that the blow-up
doll on the cover of Creation's recent Purveyors OfTaste compilation
belonged to Lawrence. But reallythese are mere splinters off agiant
redwood of strangeness that, if Forever.., gets its just desserts, will see
The Sun tag this bony Brummie bundle ofintensity as "Britain's Wackiest Star!".
Lawrence (so desperate to jettison his pastthat he's long since forgotten his surname) lives
in afirst-floor flat whose new-pin spickness
and chintzy furnishings immediately
distinguish it from the habitat of every otherknown rock species.
It smells different, too; aplatoon ofAirwick
Solids stoically occupy strategic vantage
points; the toilet bowl harbours not the usual
one, but abreeding pair of those Cartland-pinksanitisers; awicker basket provides amass
grave for spent aerosol air fresheners. The postpub curry 'n' six-pack is, evidently, aritual yet todesecrate this domain.
Later, I'll be shown hidden caches ofclassic records and astartling collectionof first-edition Kerouac paperbacks, but
initially the only clue that escapes thefierce tidiness are the 20 or so LPs stoodneatlybeneath the (dead giveaway, this)music centre. Judy Collins, Tim Hardin,'60s doomies Lee Hazelwood and Fred
Neil, assorted obscurities on the Elektralabel, and the compulsory Scott Walker.
Here, Leonard Cohen would beconsidered too popular, Nick Drake
too frivolous.
The ordeal by flashbulb survived,
and his cronies (organist Martin Duffy,
bassist Marco Thomas and drummer
GaryAinge) departed, we begin to talk.
Punctuated by panoramic pauses forthought, and imparted in achurchily

quiet version of that toneless Birmingham whine, Lawrence's
conversation is shockingly honest, by pop's standards almost guileless.
In asingle statement, sweetness, charm, stupidity and brilliance will
jostle for space; acute instinctive insight will become over-read naivety inasentence. Half the time you want to lean across his gleaming coffee
table and pat him on the head-the rest, you'd gladly throttle him...
And within 15 minutes I've abandoned reams of carefullyprepared
questions and am pinballing wildly between dumbstruck disbelief
and impolite laughter at the stream of undiluted eccentricity washingaround me...
He has already, we learn, composed the next three Felt LPs (knows
the titles, knows the running orders), has decided, after arecent major"think day", to cauterise any lingering trace of the past he left behind in
the village of Water Orton, and he worries constantly about how his every
move will look in the book that'll one day be written about his band "Only it's not the Felt story; it's the Felt legend..."But even this unfolding directory of dottiness pales as he describes
adaily regime, the aim of which is to avoid contact with the outside
world, to keep him hermetically sealed in his profoundly un-smelly
living room...
"I'm trying to give up even the little bit of shopping Ido, but, do you
know, shops don't deliver any more," he deadpans, utterly serious.
"I think that's really bad. If Icould get all my stuff brought round on
aFriday night, and my milk delivered -I need never go out..."This self-imposed isolation- "in the city, but separate from it too" -ispart of Lawrence's determined campaign to dedicate himself to "Art".
Lawrence talks alot about "Art". He talks about it in away that insists
upon the capital "A". And he talks about it in subjective, abstracted, sortof Elizabeth Barrett-Browningish ways long since discredited by the wars
and harshnesses of the 20th century, and liable, Itell him, to render thosestill spouting them laughing stocks.
The flame of unworldliness doesn't even flicker. "Really? How odd.
It all seems really credible tome, to be in an Art band. That's how I'ddescribe Felt..."And what, then, constitutes atypical day for anArt band's leader?
"Basically, the day is very traumatic, 'cos I
have to fill in the time... See,
if Ican waste the day 'til six o'clock, 'til the television comes on properly,
then everything is fine_"I don't go to bed 'til really late-and recently I
haven't been sleeping anyway- so, I
suppose, on
average, I
get up at about 10. Then I
just... erm...
read. Iread for as long as Ican stand it. And thenI
wash myhair. I
wash my hair every day, 'costhat takes up quite abit of time..
Tactical hairdressing in the pursuit ofuntainted Artistry! Why hasn't anyone thoughtof it before? And aren't there drawbacks?
Doesn't this lifestyle get lonely?
"
Loneliness usually comes about every six
months, usually on aFriday night. It just reallygets you; you can't do anything to occupy thetime, you knowyou have to survive, but you
don't go out. You have to suffer."
Don't be so bloody stupid. There's no'have to'. Just get up and go out!
"I'm not saying I'm agreat person or
anything-I never boast- but you just
don't come across many interesting
people, do you? Ithink my behaviour islike those people who used to torture
their bodies. Ithink that maybe,
subconsciously, I'm torturing myself
because Ihaven't done, achieved, all thatI
want to out of life.
"It's as though Ifeel I've done nothing todeserve comfort. Years ago, Iused to eat
sweets. It sounds cracked, but, really, I
used to eat alot of sweets. Idon't smoke,
Idon't drink, Idon't do drugs, but Iused
to devour these sweets in front of the telly.
But then I
stopped. I
just decided to stop,and that was the day Isort of realised thatI
was torturing myself."'Basically, theday is very
traumatic, 'cos
Ihave to fill inthe time"

140 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

441‘

dII

401

FELT

reticence regarding
What you appear tointerviews, Isuppose
be suggesting is that
we should be
you are, in fact (andthankful) were theit's probably something(surprise, surprise)of ararity for modern
idiosyncratic
Birmingham), an
thoughts ofaesthete.
Lawrence on...
"Yes, that's it! That's
FAME: "That'd beexactly the word I've
fine, really. I
havebeen searching for.
some of it now, but
How do you spell it?"this place makes it
Capital "N", "u",OK. There's no door
double"t", "e", "r".
Walton Street L.. í0 concessions'wee
to the street, so I
You end up uncertain
just pick up thewhether to admire or
entryphone and if
pity him -the man's
Idon't want whoever
dedication to, well, to
it is to come up I'll
twin A patil',•ticlit-b in (tidied and t old fin: station
the things he does, isjust say, 'Sorry,
apparently limitless.
I'm busy'..."
Less motivated mortals
FUN: "Yeah, honest, Ido have agood time.
inevitably search for flaws in the artistic
When? When we play... Well, not actually on
monasticism.
stage... but going to the concert, in the van, is
What did you do last Christmas Day?
great. When we get there, and on the way back,"Oh, it was wonderful," he begins before
it's terrible..."skidding to amental halt, "but it'll mean the
NEWS: "I never, never, watch the news.
NME'll get hate mail directed at me- it's like theIhate... I
just refuse to know about world
bloke from Sounds who wanted to punch me 'cos
matters. I'm not one bit interested. And Ineverhe thought I
was so glum..."read newspapers. Tell alie-I bought one when
What did you do last Christmas Day?
George Best went to prison. Iknow nothing"I stayed here..."about football, but I'm really interested in
On your own?
him. I've got aManchester United shirt in"Yes."
the cupboard..."Did you have anything special to eat?
HOBBIES: "If you don't put your whole life
The day's longest pause and deepest blush
into the music, it's not right. Imean, mywhole
coincide. "Yeah, Idid...1 had awhole... Do youlife is Felt. Ido nothing else, apart from read, which is an extension
know those turkey roast things?..."
anyway. I
love Art.1 don't have ahobby. Ihate all hobbies... except Vic
The other (NMEphotographer) Lawrence and Iabandon all effort at
Godard playing golf. That's OK, spot on...
social niceties and convulse into agonies of giggling. Serenely"I can understand people finding it funny, and Idon't mind provided
unconcerned, and completely uninterested in sympathy, Felt's Lawrence
they realise the most important thing, that I'm not superficial about it,
witters on drily.
I'm deadly serious. I'm deadly serious about my life, about what I
do,"I should add that there was no veg. Idon't eat vegetables. I've neverabout Felt."
eaten avegetable in my life..."Y'see, Lawrence knows that by the home-owning, twin-set, multipleDid you pull acracker?
orgasm standards of most of his contemporaries, he's an oddball,"No, though !think I
bought myself apresent... Can't quite remember...
maybe afreak; he's been informed by no less an authority than myself
Definitely got one for my birthday, though, from agirl I
see..."
that he exhibits all the signs of being in acondition we on the fringes
AAAAHHH!! Four NMEears prick up information. So, in the midst ofof the established medical mafias call Stark Raving Bonkers; and,all the air freshener, Art, Kerouac, shampoo and self-denial, there's...
provided his music, his precious Art, is taken seriously, he doesn't
AGirlfriend!

SerVdttatalule1 304th£3.00
rhurs 17th july8.00pm
e"My whole
life is Felt.
Ido nothingelse, apartfrom read''

Lawrence blushes anew. "Well, yes, but considering !don't leave here,"the voice trails off to awhisper's shadow, "...and she lives in Windsor..."W

EREALLYDID try, earnestly and often, to talk about Felt's
lovely new album, but it didn't workout. The record Lawrence recorded is
not the one Ihear...
His is atotally unique new music, without
precedent; mine owes much to, among others, Bob
Dylan. Mine appears to be dripping with religious
references; his, apparently, features just asingle
mention oflesus. Both records are brilliant, mind,
we agree on that; they're just not the same.
So, we really did try to talk about Felt's lovely new
album, but it didn't work out. Altogether more
successfully harvested (and, given that notorious

much care...
But we should, because we can make use of his very difference; it,and Felt as awhole, can throw into violent relief the vast majority of therest of Pop's writhing, grasping circus.
In his (cultivated) innocence he betrays Pop's
habitual contrivance; in his determinedArtiness,he spotlights Pop's callous courtship of the lowest
common denominator; in his masochistic searchfor perfection he points up Pop's slavering lust formediocrity; and through his latest music hedevastatingly demonstrates the craven, facile,illiterate, avaricious and ossifyingly dull natureof most mainstream music.
Felt are in love with, and need, real, pure, Pop. And
Pop, as surely as Queen's next brain-rot video-jingle
smasheroo, needs Felt. DannyKelly •RUMBLING THE ANTISEPTIC BEAUTYHISTORY OF ROCK 19t,

111

•
1986
OCTOBER

Epic gesturesof martyrdom
MM
The Smiths go "positively
grungy" playing an anti-apartheid benefit.
ERHAPS THIS ANTI-APARTHEID benefit will
finally knock on the bonce the interminable "IsMorrissey aracist?" debate. Not that it isn't
pertinent to talk about the gulf, the antipathy even,between indiepop and black pop. But the irony is that it's
precisely the indie fans most estranged from black
culture who are most likely to be anti-racist
and politically committed. This was ananti-apartheid concert with anear-total
BRIXTON ACADEMY
absence of black faces in the audience.
But then The Smiths are one of the great—
LONDON
white rock bands (they have asurprisingly
manly audience, laddish even). Smiths
LIVE!
music is about as albino as you can get this1side of The Fall -an amalgam of rockabilly,
DECEMBER111.
"Jeepster"-ish chords and folk-rock, low on
sensuality, high on yearning. R'n'B is aremote,fourth-hand trace.
Morrissey is still adarling, still flaunting thosenipples, although the indecency has, inevitably, become
ritual. But there seems to be less camp to The Smiths now,
more powerchords. The new songs don't frolic or frisk,
they stomp. The next single, "Shoplifters Of The World
Unite", is positively grungy, aHello B-side, and the closest
their music has yet come to possessing agroin.
The second guitarist having absconded, Marr was unable
to show off. Instead we were treated to abrilliant clarity ofsound. The Smiths sounded robust. And Morrissey wasvery.., guttural, delivering particular lyrics with acomical
growl. With his growing sense of himself as statesman has
come something bordering on aggression. "The Queen Is
Dead", that sublime Stooges wah-wah blitz, could properly
climax in the smashing of guitars.
And there's "Panic", that (in every sense) hystericalfantasy of revenge. Morrissey swirls anoose from his hip,as if to say: suck on this, soulboy -the music-press masses
remain, obstinately, aROCK community, with adefiantly
old-fashioned investment in Meaning.
And the meaning trembling beneath the skin of Smiths
songs is, "Please save your life/Because you've only got
one." The Smiths speak to those whowant something more from life, but know,
secretly, that they will never get it.
ill
The band are at once deeply‘
traditional (a four-man guitar
band!) and supremelyIradical, making one final
renovation of the rockrebellion, but only by turning
the myth inside out, replacing
aggression with fragility, lust withpurity. But the motor of this rock is still
narcissism -narcissism wounded,
introverted, then exploded into epic
gestures of martyrdom. Perhaps for things toreally change we'd have to allow awoman to be an
equivalent seer figure. For now, The Smiths are still
the greatest rock groupon the planet. Simon Reynolds

142 1HISTORY OF ROCK 1986

NOT FOR SALE IN S.A.

O

Growling confidence:
Morrissey fronts arobust Smiths
performance at theBrixton Academy,
Decembert2,1•86

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THE HISTORY OF

Readers' letters

MM/MME JUL—DEC
Beastie burden

Pleased as we were to find our acts
Run DMC and the Beastie Boys on
the cover ofyour September 13
issue, we can't help but comment
about the oddness of their tone..
Our objections to Steve
Sutherland's piece on the Beastie
Boys [page 1121 are substantial.
With regard to The Raisin' Hell
Tour-which featured Run DMC,
Whodini, LL Cool Iand the Beastie
Boys-he claims that "the gunscame out in Long Beach,
California" and that our nationalpress "made ameal of it... deaths,
race riots, that sort of thing".

town and went offwithouti
ncident BILL ADLER, directorof publicity, Rush Productions,
New York
Seems to be afair week ofparanoia
issuing out ofyour offices at the
moment. It was Run DMC's OWN
press agent who informed me that
American national press made ameal ofthe riots and it was neverimplied in my piece that there wasany truth in these rumours of
racial tension. On the contrary,part ofmy thinkingbehind theBeastie Boys piece was to dispel
hip hop's rapidly solidifyingbad
reputation. SS (141%4Oct 4)

Alas Smith

Sutherland's casual attitude
regarding this alleged violence
may pass for raffishness, but his
equally casual attitude regarding
the truth (which he sneeringly
describes as "the DMC line") is
unacceptable. In fact, there were
no deaths at Long Beach, nor
anywhere else on the tour.
Further, there were no race riots.
As the Beasties themselves
told Sutherland, Long Beach was
the site of agang fight, and it was
the only date on the tour (70-odd
dates in 65 cities) that had to be
stopped because of violence inthe arena.
Finally, the result of the fiasco inLong Beach was not that the tour
was cancelled in "other major
cities". It was cancelled in one
city, Providence, Rhode Island,
adecision decried as "a bushleague move" by that city's
Providence Journal. You'll excuse
the extended baseball metaphor,but the Journal's Mike Boehm
went on to note that "providing
security for Run DMC is likehaving to face Nolan Ryan's
fastball. But if you're apro, you
don't call off the game. You do
what's necessary to stay in it."You know, just as theHammersmith Odeon did thispast September 12 and 13 when
The Raisin' Hell tour came to yourSo The Cure is the -best band in
the world"? How many drinks did
they have to buy you to inspire
such acomment?All the space you
waste detailing your delightful
escapades with Richard Butler
and Robert Smith could be spenton bands like The Beloved and
The Soup Dragons, or even moreestablished groups who are stillcreative, like The Smiths. But thenmost indie groups are too poor totake you along on ocean cruises,
and Morrissey, with his "antieverything" attitude, probably
doesn't often get pissed at the pub.
SOMEONE WITH THE NAME OF
AFAMOUS FILM DIRECTOR,
Michigan, USA (MMJul 19)

Hull 4Media 41986 and the new breed isnowhere to be seen, but hark, whatis this? Asmall glimmer of hopeamong the black-soul-funk-discobeat pop that fills the charts. The
Housemartins burst onto thescene with their new fresh but
not entirely original style.
But all this was too much tohope for. Smothered by the musicpress, by Radio 1and Top OfThePops, The Housemartins areturned into yet another pop
band of the '80s, never to reach
their full potential. Icould bewrong, and truly hope Iam.
Housemartins, RIP. HUNT, St
Albans, Hens (MMJul 19)

Crowd 4Small person 0

I'd like to say three words tothe people who went to theHousemartins gig at the Mayfair
in Newcastle and who kept
pushing (downstairs) before The
Housemartins came on-YOU
SELFISH BASTARDS!I thoughtI
was going to suffocate and had
to go upstairs-only to find out I
couldn't see, sol had to sit on thestairs and listen to the show...I
can do thatANYTIME. Bastards
like that should be thrown out.
ANDREA, Durham (MMOct 25)

Go-go, going, goneIlove Wham! and! don't care who

knows it, so up yours, Sutherland!
I'd have given my left limb to havebeen at Wembley the other week.
Why couldn't I
have your ticket,
Sutherland? Wham! shall be sadly
missed, and George Michael, if
you happen to be reading this, I
love you and I
want to smear yourbodywith Instant Whip and lick it
off, then we could... Carolyn Byrne,
Cleethorpes(MMJul19)

Scot difference it does makeDear Morrissey and Rough Trade,I
was looking forward to yourforthcoming tour as it would
give me another chance to see
my heroes in action. At least
that's what !thought until! saw
the dates.
For the second year insuccession you have chosen to
exclude Scotland from your major
tour. Granted, last yearyou did amini-tour of Scotland and played
Glasgow in July, but there is more
to Scotland than just Glasgow.
What about the people in the eastof Scotland who haven't seen you
for ayear, and also all those in thewest who couldn't get aticket for
the Glasgow gig? It means now
that thave to travel to Carlisle,
and although Iam prepared to doit, ajourney to Glasgowwould bemuch easier and alot cheaper.
Don't forget- people in Scotland
also buy Smiths records and wewouldn't mind seeing you play live
now and then. APANIC-STRICKENCHARMING MAN, Coatbridge,
Scotland (MMSept20)

1

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EXPERIMENTIV

Blast from the past

You are mistaken. Iam not, norhave Iever been, amember of theGroucho Club. Like many of yourstaff, Igo there occasionally to see
my friends. The context in which
you claimed membership for me
was blatantly derogatory, andcould be seen as considerably
detrimental to my reputation.
Would you like to retract, or
would you like to be sued?
Julie Burchill Landesman,London (NME Nov 23)

nm GETTING TOO USED TO THIS WAY OF UFEFAME IS A BABY, SHE ROCKS ME AT NIGHTFAR FROM THE COLD ANO THE BRASH CITY LIGHTSWE PURCHASE FROM SORROW A MOMENT S RESPITE'HISTORY OF ROCK 1986 I145

1986

MONTHHI#ON TH

Coming next...
in 1987!

So... That was 1986. Kiss!
But that's far from it from our reporters on the beat. The
staffers of NMEand Melody Maker enjoyed unrivalled accessto the biggest stars of the time, and cultivated afeel for therhythms of adiversifying scene; as the times changed, so did
they. While in pursuit of the truth, they unearthed stories
that have come to assume mythical status.
That's very much the territory of this monthly magazine. With eachissue, The History OfRock will be bringi ng you verbatim reports from thepivotal events in pop culture, one year amonth, one year at atime. Next
up, 1987!

U2
THE BAND READY The Joshua Tree, and Bono continues to cultivate
adifferent echelon. "I met Muhammad Ali, you know -he's aU2 fan.
Iwas completely blown away by it. Ijust thought, 'This is one of thegreatest sportsmen who ever stepped into the spotlight. A man withreal class. Aman with areal sense of humour.' Even when Muhammad
Al's in abad way, he's still good enough for me."REM
AN INTIMATE MEETING with the band that has just made Document.
"In America, if you can't make money, they think it's because you're afailure," says Peter Buck. "The work ethic is really intrinsic to
American thought. The idea that you can work and work and get what
you want and then try for even more. It's the American dream, but it's apipe dream..."

PRIMAL SCREAMGRADUATES OF THE class of 1986, and rock fanatics. "You've got it or
you haven't," says Bobby Gillespie. "For us it's about having acertain
spirit. All the best things I've seen this year have it. The Weather
Prophets in Edinburgh. Neil Young at Wembley..."PLUS!
THE CURE!
JULIAN COPE!
DAVID BOWIE!

148 IHISTORY OF ROCK 1986

.

-

•

-

I V

1

FROM THE MAKERS OF UNCUTTHE HISTORY OF

CEvery month, we revisit long-lost NME and Melody Maker interviews
and piece together The History OfRock. This month: 1986.
"Sometimes Iwish life was never-ending..."

PRINCE TORE THE ROOF OFF LONDON
THE BEASTIE BOYS FOUGHT FOR THEIR RIGHTS
KEITH RICHARDS DEFENDED THE HONOUR
OF THE STONES... and NEW ORDER, JOHN LYDON, THE SMITHS,GEORGE MICHAEL, NICK CAVE, THE FALL and many moreshared all with the writers from NME and MELODYMAKER

More from UNCUT...
............

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