Archive for the ‘Great Lost Albums’ category

Great Lost Albums No.2 – Shack, “…Here’s Tom with the Weather”

29 May, 2007

Sometimes you simply have to despair at the general public, those philistine cloth-eared bastards. Shack must be the only Scousers in the world who can’t get arrested. A string of brilliant albums combining incredible musicianship with the sort of songwriting no other British band could even dream of, yet no bugger bothers to listen.

Even in 1999, signed to a major label, the stunning HMS Fable album in the can, an NME cover proclaiming Mick Head “The Best Songwriter in Britain” (true), and the joyously melodic single Comedy playlisted on both Radios 1 & 2, the punters still didn’t bite. Like I said, sometimes you just have to despair.

Well, nil desperandum and all that and thankfully the brothers Head carried on regardless and thank god they did, for their next album, 2003’s …Here’s Tom with the Weather, was their masterpiece. Even then they had to rely on the benevolence of concert promoter Simon Moran, who set up a record label especially to release this one incredible album. Unlike HMS Fable however, the press didn’t bother with it and so it was dead in the water.

Despair. Because …Here’s Tom is the Nick Drake/Stone Roses/early Floyd/Hendrix/La’s/cosmic Scouse album dreams are made of. Less anthemic than HMS Fable, and more akin to the sublime Scouse folk of their one-off Strands project.

Romance on the dole to kick things off:

The morning paper’s soaking from the rain
And Kilroy’s hair’s turned blue…
All through the wintertime, this hovel’s been a pain
But I don’t care what anybody says, as long as I’ve got you
(As Long as I’ve Got You)

The Dead Sea Scrolls of Cosmic Scouserdom to follow:

Learning to play the guitar, one for you, one for me
Who’d be the first one to learn all those tricks by Mr Lee?
Stuck in me ma’s old back room, with endless cups of tea…
(Byrds Turn to Stone)

…and elsewhere, the dreamy folk pop of The Girl with the Long Brown Hair, the lysergic Latino-psych of On the Terrace, two sublime John Head songs (Miles Apart and Carousel), and the stupendous Bacharach-on-the-Mersey finale, Happy Ever After. Just after your jaw hits the floor, you’re reaching for the repeat button.

No-one likes them, they don’t care, and they came back for more in 2006 with the almost equally brilliant Corner of Miles & Gil, this time courtesy of benefactor Noel Gallagher, who said “The world is a worse place when Shack aren’t releasing records”. Damn right Sir. Another masterpiece, this time mixing their dazzling ear for a tune with a new-found Miles Davis obsession. And still no fucker bought it.

DESPAIR.

Hear tracks from Shack and more at Radio Hartson’s Dog!

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Great Lost Albums 1 – The Go-Betweens, “16 Lovers Lane”

26 May, 2007

We’ve all got ’em – favourite albums that we can’t live without but which no-one else seems to value. Some of them were critically adored but ignored by the punters, others just never made it onto the radar for various reasons – a cloth-eared public/media, lack of exposure, refusal to play the PR game, abrasive/unlistenable content, etc.

So in this occasional series I shall introduce a few of the albums that I love but which remain languishing in obscurity…

We begin, appropriately enough, with the archetypal “why the hell weren’t they massive???” band, The Go-Betweens.

It’s obvious why some of the albums I’ll be writing about never sold like hot cakes. The Wedding Present’s Seamonsters, for example, a 45-minute howl of sexual obsession and rejection set to droning feedback; or King of the Slums’ Blowzy Weirdos, abrasive urban folk delivered in a thick Mancunian brogue.

But 16 Lovers Lane should have outsold the likes of Thriller or Rumours. It’s brilliant. To hear it is to fall in love with it. Basking in its shamelessly romantic, melancholy balm is one of music’s greatest pleasures. It sold about 17 copies. OK, I exaggerate, but not by much.

Prior to 1988, the ‘Tweens were a cult indie band, very much part of the post-Smiths wave of bedsit romantics. Over the course of four albums which mixed quirky, angular, literate post-punk with warm, jangling love songs, they’d won considerable critical acclaim but had failed to trouble the charts, despite producing heavenly pop like Bachelor Kisses & Bye Bye Pride. Some of the songs were maybe just too arty, too lyrically obtuse to connect with more than a small cult following.

But 16 Lovers Lane was different. Gone were the sharp edges, the lyrics were more accessible, the production slicker, the guitars acoustic, the strings lush & romantic. The critics raved, but after my first listen I hated it, as did many ‘Tweens fans (in fact the 16LL debate still rages on at www.go-betweens.net). A week later, the cassette had nearly worn out I’d listened to it so much, since when I’ve been through another cassette copy and a CD, and the album is now no1 on my iPod’s playlist.

Because of the very different songwriting styles of the band’s two frontmen, Robert Forster (angular, wordy, often lyrically impenetrable) and Grant McLennan (warm, melodic, heartfelt) Go-Betweens albums often sound like two solo albums welded together. 16LL doesn’t. It’s harder than ever to identify who wrote what, giving it a cohesiveness their other albums lack. Thus Forster’s poignant I’m Alright sits easily alongside McLennan’s yearning Quiet Heart. Forster gets untypically confessional here and that’s what creates the chemistry.

Opening track Love Goes On! pulls off the old New Order trick of taking an appalling lyrical couplet (“There’s a cat in my alleyway, dreaming of birds that are blue/Sometimes girl when I’m lonely, this is how I think about you”) and delivering it with such honesty that it sounds improbably moving; and from then on it’s just one great song after another, highlights being the¬†impossibly romantic Devil’s Eye (“Sometimes we don’t come through, sometimes we just get by/But I know with you I’ve never seen the Devil’s eye”), almost-hit Streets of Your Town, as good a pop song as the 1980s produced, and the closing, heartbreaking reminiscence of Dive For Your Memory – only the stoniest of hearts can remain unmoved by words like “We stood side by side, strong and true/Just wish you’d remember, bad times don’t get you through/So when I hear you saying that we stood no chance/I’ll dive for your memory, we stood that chance”.

Stunned by the public’s inexplicable indifference to their masterpiece, the band split, and didn’t release another Go-Betweens album for another 15 years. In 2005 they finally released the true follow-up to 16LL, the brilliant Oceans Apart, and even had a hit single throughout Europe with Finding You. On a creative and, for the first time, commercial roll, the band were about to begin recording another album when McLennan died unexpectedly in his sleep at the tragically young age of 48, his best work possibly still ahead of him; the outpouring of memories and tributes on the band’s website showing how much his songs meant to those who heard them.

In an interview with NME in 1988, McLennan said “I maintain that The Go-Betweens write about love better than anybody else in the world.” 16 Lovers Lane is glorious, magical proof.

Hear tracks from the Go-Betweens and many more on Radio Hartson’s Dog!