For The Record #6 – News Of The World / A Song From Under The Floorboards / The Wonderful And Frightening World Of…

Probably the longest title of the FTR series yet, and probably the whole blog…

The Jam make their debut appearance, while Magazine and (obviously) The Fall are back in. Before we begin, my last article about PiL was my second-most viewed piece since I started writing, so thanks to all those who read it for making my awful university exam and coursework period a bit less gloomy and for starting 2019 on a positive step!

Also, I’ve noticed, with my previous FTR articles, that I never talk about where or how I acquired the records I talk about. From here, I’ll give a bit of background to the origins of my collection, and hopefully offer some tips on buying vinyl in the future.

Let’s begin…

News Of The World B/W Aunties and Uncles + Innocent Man – The Jam

This was bought, if I remember correctly, at Spitalfields Market record fair in Liverpool Street for £4. A usual saturday for me was to travel into Central London to the record fair for a quick half-hour peruse of the stock before heading to watch the football (at which club I will not reveal!), so I got to know which stalls had the best punk selections. Other records featured in my articles that I’ve bought from Spitalfields include ‘Hitsville U.K.’, ‘Ever Fallen In Love’ and ‘Making Plans For Nigel’.

To put it simply, I like The Jam. I think the fact they were a trio made them a little more independent and noteworthy compared to their contemporaries, while its hard to deny the influence Paul Weller has had on practically all corners of the musical arena.

However, this, for me, has always proved to be a problem. Throughout secondary education, there were three people everyone into any alternative music wanted to be like, look like, sound like and so on. Considering I grew up in West London, a mighty barrier to achieving these feats had already been put in place.

Number one was Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys. Number two was a mix of Liam/Noel Gallagher and Ian Brown, which meant putting on a generic Manc accent, constantly saying ‘madferit’ and wearing any form of overpriced vintage clothing in sight. I was also the only person who seemed to prefer Blur to Oasis too, which I don’t think particularly helped.

And number three, inevitably, was Paul Weller, or a near-enough incrnation of him, embracing some form of mod look, usually coming in the form of Doc Martens, skinny jeans, Fred Perry polo and Harrington jacket.

I understand this is extreme musical snobbery from me, but this completely turned me off from nearly all of the acts associated with these people. Hearing ‘Town Called Malice’ or ‘Going Underground’ at any gathering for the umpteenth time was a bit too much for me at times, and I could never convince anyone to let me have the music for a song or two (I don’t blame them at all, however).

Admittedly, singles-wise, I have no qualms with The Jam at all – they have some absolute scorchers, yet I could never do a full album. I can’t explain why, I just don’t think they were fully for me, and being insisted upon the same three songs repeatedly is probably why I chose to escape to my hive of obscurity.

Moving on from my adolescent indifference, ‘News Of The World’ is by far my favourite Jam song of all time. I think it’s absolutely stunning. For my generation, the Mock The Week theme tune (apologies, purists) was inevitably our first introduction to its raw energy, albeit in a thirty second snippet.

The full version starts with three-note arpeggios, before erupting into an angsty, punchy punk cruiser. Bruce Foxton (bassist) takes the lead on vocals, while Weller is given free-rein on guitar. Each chord is thumped out with real strength, oozing with glorious might.

To be honest, this is the first time I’ve listened to the song in a very, very long time – I must confess that I’ve missed it greatly – the brilliant ‘Canada-a-a’ line, the emphatic nature of every instrument in the raucous tirade on the ears. It’s simply magnificent.

The guitar solo is pure punk-rockabilly and utterly, utterly triumphant. I think what’s also great about the song is the way it doesn’t stick to verse-chorus structure – every thirty seconds offers a new hit of variation and unpredctability, something which I feel they could’ve played on more over their tenure.

There’s something quite nostalgic about this song, with the ‘read all about it’ line taking me back to the age when I used to watch Mock The Week every thursday night in bed (what was I thinking?). It holds an oddly significant place in my musical memory, particularly as I was an avid viewer of the show.

All in all, a fantastic piece of thumping punk artistry.

‘Aunties and Uncles’ is quite sterile in comparison to the A-side, offering a bit more of an emotional and melodic edge. It’s quite an innocent sounding song – from my ten second revision of the lyrics, I can’t really gather whether it’s a song of appreication or frustration, but it’s certainly pleasant enough. The guitar solo perhaps outstays its welcome a little, but it remains a very listenable number indeed.

Another Foxton-penned number follows with ‘Innocent Man’. It’s another safe song, and again is very pleasant, but I’m starting to feel the fatigue that I seem to always suffer when listening to a few Jam songs in a row that I experienced when I was trying to ‘get’ what everyone loved about them. It’s not as strong as ‘Aunties’, but still offers just about enough to keep you interested, though I think it’s fair to say it’s a tad repetitive and doesn’t offer many surprises.

A strong all-round performance.

A-Side: 4.5/5   B-Side 1: 3/5   B-Side 2: 2/5   Sleeve: 3.5/5

 

A Song From Under The Floorboards B/W Twenty Years Ago – Magazine

This was one of my first ever purchases of vinyl, around 2015, I reckon. I had just started attending the monthly Soundbite record fair in Chiswick, and was quick to grab the record and run.

As mentioned in previous articles, whether they’re the subject or not, Magazine were my first musical obsession. I spent a good year repeatedly playing their first three albums, with each song always offering fantastic lyrical witticisms, utter other-worldliness and a perfect dose of discord to top it all off.

‘Floorboards’, contrarily, is lyrically crushing, extremely down-to-earth, and, frankly, quite beautiful.

As ever, McGeoch leads the pack with a soaring arpeggiated riff gently backed by Adamson on bass and Formula on keys, before bursting into life on the hit of Doyle’s drums. It’s a clinical shot of melancholic enchantment, grabbing you instantly. And if it wasn’t emotional enough, in comes Howard Devoto with two of the most gorgeously sombre opening lines in post-punk history:

I am angry, I am ill and I’m as ugly as sin/My irritability keeps me alive and kicking

Delivered in the most honest and confessional tone possible, the opening thirty seconds are gut-wrenchingly brilliant.

In typical Magazine fashion, the spotlight in the instrumentation moves from McGeoch to Adamson, the bassline waltzing gloriously behind Devoto’s vocals, each hammer-on and slide serving a wonderful touch of masterful expertise which is so commonplace in all of Magazine’s work.

The chorus, too, is gracefully delivered with care and delicacy, Devoto reaching greater levels of moodiness as the song progresses further.

The tune continues in the same vein before the stunning post-chorus eruption of destructive misery and elegance, led by the wonderful ascending riff of the keyboard.

Everything about this song, and I mean everything, is simply delightful. It’s a clear demonstration of the abilities of Devoto and co. in delivering a classy touch to the post-punk edge and composing a tune of absolute importance and strength.

Devoto is back again, this time in total despondency:

Used to make phantoms I could later chase/Images of all that could be desired

Then I got tired of counting all of these blessings/And then I just got tired

It’s such an admittance of defeat, of worthlessness, of complete and utter dejection. Simply stunning.

It concludes with a final chorus, before a notably upbeat outro compared to the offerings in the grooves prior to its departure. Another trick up Magazine’s sleeve, and it works, too.

After this, we’re greeted by a creature that couldn’t be further from the offerings on the other side of the vinyl.

A weird hit of keyboards descends, before pacey, urgent drums kick in with a combative, mostly single-note bassline. Devoto interrupts out of nowhere, and is succeeded by discordant improvisation on the strings by McGeoch.

I’m not sure what feeling, emotion or atmosphere is meant to be evoked from this piece other than that of bemused absurdity – a screeching saxophone makes some awkward appearances too, in a sort of drunken bust-up with Devoto’s high-pitched yelps.

Despite what the previous paragraphs may infer, I actually adore this song, but I could never explain this in any way other than ‘just listen to it!’, in a similar tone to when I attempt to justify the genius of The Fall. It’s a disruptive, raucous mess, but I will defend it with passion. It’s just so odd.

All in all, simple brilliance, featuring on an album that is equally as pleasing and rewarding.

A-Side: 5/5   B-Side: 4/5   Sleeve: 2.5/5

 

The Wonderful and Frightening World Of… LP – The Fall 

Unlike the other records featured, I got this LP as a gift from my Fall-loving uncle in 2017. No stroy to be told here, I’m afraid.

After GrotesqueTWAFW was my next step in discovering The Fall around aged 16. I’d liked what I’d heard on Grotesque, partially because of its simplicity and messiness, but mostly because of the charmingly hilarious words of MES (refer to the first line of ‘New Face In Hell’, for anyone who doesn’t know what I’m on about…).

I don’t know why I took a 4 year step in their discography, particularly as ‘The Classical’ (from 1982’s iconic Hex Enduction Hour) was actually my first ever listening to The Fall from a Spotify discover playlist. I think I just went for the albums with the most eye-catching covers, to be honest.

Anyway, I listened once until the fourth track ‘Elves’, which is where I decided that this album was rubbish. I completely overdid ‘Lay Of The Land’ and gave everything else a half-hearted listen, which is the most I could give it at the time. I just thought it was completely awful.

Silly 16-year-old me.

On a more through venture through The Fall’s discography two years later, where I’d listened to every studio album before TWAFW (apart from Room To Live, which I wrongly construed as a live album), I had a greater appreciation and understanding of The Fall’s sound and background, and went into TWAFW with a bit more open-mindedness and optimism. And, luckily, I loved it. Completely.

I’ve mentioned ‘Lay Of The Land’ in my ‘Opening Tracks’ article, which is an absolutely gory, thumping mess of a song, but it is totally brilliant. Just mind-blowing. It has and always will be a favourite of the fanbase, and rightly so. It seems to know no limits on the levels of how uncaring and thunderous a song can be – it is quite simply magnificent.

TWAFW saw Mark’s first wife Brix enter the fray, bringing with her a more pop-oriented sound showcased by the preceding singles ‘C.R.E.E.P’ and ‘Oh! Brother’, which created contrasting opinions from fans due to the perceived selling-out of the group. No matter what the overall verdict of followers are, we know one of these songs has proven to provide an excellent name for a blog… (and it isn’t Creep, thankfully).

Brix’s key contribution to the album was ‘2×4’, which is a lovely hit of bluesy post-punk, giving Steve Hanley three ten-second gaps to showcase his vitality and presence to the world with an infectiously catchy riff on the bass. An accomplished track indeed.

Now, the next two songs are quite simply a punch in the face of orderliness. ‘Copped It’ appears out of no where, with a jarring, high-pitched guitar chord and a dancing bassline. Gavin Friday, who I hadn’t heard of before hearing this album, offers very eerie ‘Hey, hey, hey’ interludes between Smitth’s vocals, with an occasional ‘Sing that song!’ which sounds like a grotesquely ugly soul song trying to force it’s way into a Fall tune.

Admittedly, it works magnificently. The best moment of the song, for me, comes during the gradual ramp up in volume, before Smith erupts with a cry of ‘Taking out a policy on war and destruction!’, before the song concludes with some even stranger ‘Bawoo-bap-bap’ vocals from Brix. So odd.

As mentioned by just about any commentator of The Fall, ‘Elves’ is Brix’s inadvertent rip-off of ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’, but despite the quite blatant plagiarism, it remains a treat. There’s a bit of an angst to the vocals which matches the gloominess of the instruments very aptly, while the weird (I’ll call it) ‘Oof’ noise is also very endearing.

Side Two kicks off with probably the most accomplished track on the album, ‘Slang King’, which is best summed up by The Fall In Fives as simply sounding like ‘music from another planet’. I don’t really feel I can do this song justice with any sort of theorising or gushing description, simply because a) there’s no words to aptly justify its brilliance, b) it’s so, so weird and c) it contains the lines ‘Three little girls with only 50 pence/Had to take, had to put/The Curly Wurly back’. What am I meant to say about it?

Annoyingly, I’ve also got little to say about its follower ‘Bug Day’, which is just quite lethargic, slow, and, to be honest, boring. In fairness, it’s the only real drop in quality for the whole album, so I think it can be forgiven.

‘Stephen Song’ is brilliant. A very addictive melody that sounds like an anthem of victory or triumph. Gavin Friday returns for some more ad-libbing and is all the more welcome for it. His voice is an ethereal offset for the brashness of MES’ rants, and on B-side ‘Clear Off!’, not featured on the album, I think his performance is sublime. Brix’s backing vocals fit wonderfully in with the jubilance of the song, and all in all it’s an assured piece of work. It was the song I remembered most from the brief listening I gave this album before moving onto This Nation’s, and one that I always welcome whenever it comes on.

‘Craigness’ is a bit more chilling and challenging, one that has never been a particularly memorable part of The Fall’s back catalogue for me. It’s alright, y’know. What follows is infinitely better, though.

‘Disney’s Dream Debased’ has always been an ethereal favourite of mine, ranking in second in my article on The Fall’s best closing tracks. To have such a grim background story to the song (have a look online if you’re interested) and yet create this juxtaposingly uplifting tune requires a level of musical awareness and understanding which is unparalelled. Wonderful. And frightening. (Apologies).

It really is a classic, understated album. The freshness of the songs and the imagination that went into to every note shows with the result of the album, and while it has a few shortcomings, it is still a vital and delightful record, and one that I feel completely chuffed to own.

Side One: 4.5/5   Side Two: 4.5/5   Sleeve: 4.5/5

Pete Shelley Obituary / For The Record #3 – Buzzcocks Edition

I’m sure I wasn’t the only one left totally taken by the sudden news of Pete Shelley’s passing. After my first FTR article I was back listening to Buzzcocks on a regular occurrence, returning me to a time when I was around 13 years old, where all of Shelley’s lyrics seemed to describe every emotion of adolescence and teenage innocence so succinctly, humorously and, at times, in such brutal honesty.

I saw Buzzcocks in London during 2017 and they were on tremendous form. All the vitality and energy of the nearly forty-year-old songs was effortlessly maintained – Diggle interacted with the adoring audience for the entire show and Shelley sounded as if it were still 1978. I feel lucky to be able to say I have seen the Buzzcocks live, and lucky that I was able to indulge myself in classic after classic. It was a superb evening.

Any punk documentary, book or podcast will always mention the now legendary Lesser Free Trade Hall gig, where The Sex Pistols stamped their authority onto the punk arena and punk was finally given an audience, no matter what size. What is often overlooked, however, is the role played by The Buzzcocks’ then frontman Howard Devoto and lead guitarist Pete Shelley’s role in organising the gig (amongst many others in Manchester) while the Buzzcocks were still a young, fledgling act, fighting their way into the Manchester scene and beyond.

Without that gig, that mythical array of musical power and fight, who knows whether punk would have ever gained the notoriety and standing it achieved. As many will be aware, members of the then unformed bands The Fall, Joy Division and The Smiths were present that night. Deprived of visionaries and believers such as Shelley, the musical world may not have been so joyous, raucous and utterly compelling for those looking for a voice to speak to them.

Shelley and co. were also archetypal of the new DIY protocol that punk was soon to follow after them, forming the New Hormones label in 1977 and releasing the seminal Spiral Scratch EP, which led a young Morrissey to declare them ‘only the best kick ass rock band in the country’ to NME in 1977.

What’s more, where would pop, and all its various avenues in rock, be without the craft and ingenuity of Buzzcocks? Every single, album track, A-side, B-side, bonus track, everything they did had such edge; every lyric sang, shouted or screamed reminisced with those playing with the strings of lust, youth or immaturity in ways that not many other bands could dream of. Even Devoto’s following band Magazine borrowed a Shelley riff (used in the single ‘Lipstick’) for their debut single ‘Shot By Both Sides’, which saw them sit at #41 on the charts and appear on Top of The Pops.

So, here’s to Pete Shelley and Buzzcocks for making the best pop songs ever, for making every insecure teenager’s coping with life’s little problems more bearable, and for helping a generation of musicians set the country, and the world, to Manchester’s groove.

Due to the monumental loss, I’ll be writing about all my Buzzcocks vinyl that hasn’t been reviewed. Overall, I am left with an extra single to the usual serving. I’ll start with the Spiral Scratch EP, onto ‘Ever Fallen In Love’, ‘Harmony In My Head’ and conclude with their debut LP Another Music in a Different Kitchen.

Spiral Scratch EP

I came into awareness of this EP after discovering Magazine and watching a So It Goes Devoto and Shelley documentary from 1978, where the theme tune was track three ‘Boredom’, the ad-break commencing on Devoto’s “B’dum b’dum”. I had listened to Buzzcocks’ debut album and Magazine’s first three, so this was a new avenue to explore – proper independent punk at its most raw and true.

For me, the EP opener ‘Breakdown’ is a rank above the rest of the tracks. Devoto’s near-rantings come out in high-pitched jaunty half-words, backed by a ridiculously powerful Shelley guitar and the signature fast-paced power drumming of John Maher. It’s punk. The rough recording, the audible mini-mishaps and Devoto’s strained, aggressive vocals. It’s infectious. Completely.

The descending and ascending chords of ‘Time’s Up’ come in instantly – there’s no rest on these grooves, so sit, listen, and shut up. Lyrically superb, ‘Time’s Up’ is a tiny bit instrumentally more refined than its predecessor and follows the same boisterous programme. What’s brilliant is the awful backing vocals on the ‘Time’s up/Me too’ choruses; Devoto and Shelley seem to fight over who can be the least tuneful and the most painful for the ears – simply stupid and simply stunning.

Here’s your ten second break – flip over to side two and sit back down. In flies ‘Boredom’, one of the most highly-held punk riffs and choruses, supported by lyrics such as ‘every ring-a-ring-a-ring-a fucking thing’. Oh so good. The further we go, the angrier Devoto gets – ‘GET YOUR HANDS OUT MY TROUSERS’ is violently thrown up as it explodes out, it’s just crazy. ‘Ah!’ he concludes. You can’t ask for much better.

Or can you? ‘Friends of Mine’ begins with a grinding single chord introduction, followed by Devoto nearly rapping to the cacophony behind him. The guitar solo rings of Fall level neglect for musical delicacy and aural-ease, as does the whole EP to be fair, but it seems to be ramped up for a disturbing final goodbye from the new kids on the ugly, distorted block.

This was their meticulous mark on the world, and it was perfect.

Side One: 5/5   Side Two: 5/5   Sleeve: 4/5

Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve) B/W Just Lust

The signature Buzzcocks ballad of decaying love and a dying relationship. Produced to create the perfect emotional backdrop to Shelley’s longing lyrics, ‘Ever Fallen In Love’ is, and always will be, frankly the perfect pop song. This will probably be one of the shortest reviews I’ll ever write, as I feel no one needs me to tell them how ingenious and powerful this song is.

The words are decorated with despair and grief, while the guitars remain loaded with guts and power yet orchestrate the collapse of this entanglement so fittingly. I’m sure that everyone has felt exactly the way the words describe the feelings experienced, which is probably why this song remains so adored. It speaks to all it touches on some level, whether spiritual or emotional. A masterpiece. Plain and simple.

‘Just Lust’ is arguably even more sombre. Shelley sort of mumbles each word like a man who has given up on hope of attachment to anyone or anything. I remember first hearing this after I bought the single at a record fair, and I was instantly hooked on its sharp jab of sorrow and the descending riffs in the verse. It’s a wonderful B-side that compliments the headline act aptly.

A-Side: 5/5   B-Side: 4/5   Sleeve: 5/5

Harmony In My Head B/W Something’s Gone Wrong Again

The same Buzzcocks protocol – a masterful pop riff, strong drumming and a punchy bassline. But no Shelley this time. Instead we’re welcomed by the rough and gristly barks of lead guitarist Steve Diggle. They really are quite cutting – he claims to have smoked twenty cigarettes before recording to attain the harsh sound, and I think it’s safe to say it paid off.

Even Diggle seems to hold his own emotional twang to his singing despite the gruff sound of his voice, and they’re brilliantly contrasted by the more controlled and soothing vocals sang by Shelley in the slightly more dreamy, less intense chorus. It’s an excellent tune, my Dad’s favourite Buzzcocks song, and a reminder that it wasn’t always a one man show in the song writing department.

The B-side makes me think that Diggle’s tobacco-induced yelps were perhaps more fitting for both songs. Instead, Shelley returns to business as usual. It’s a good song musically, but perhaps Diggle was more suitable for this tune. Still strong, however.

A-Side: 5/5   B-Side: 3/5   Sleeve: 4/5

Another Music In A Different Kitchen LP

A spectacular album, and one of the first albums I bought on vinyl. It catches The Buzzcocks on the cusp of commercial and critical adoration, a sign of things to come with the singles and albums that took the baton afterwards.

Kicking off with a nice excerpt of ‘Boredom’, ‘Fast Cars’ gradually grows and crashes into life so grabbingly. It’s such a raucous opener, a hit in the face of musical apathy and dreariness. It’s as lively an opener can get.

This theme is inevitably continued throughout the album. Though lacking the extra emotional edge of successor Love Bites, AMIADK is still a fantastically explosive journey on a band that appears to be, more than anything, having fun in their minimalist freedom, every strum of the guitar or hit of the drum a slamming reaffirmation of their status in the punk arena, epitomised by the fantastic ‘You Tear Me Up’, a step up in anger and toughness to the opening two tracks.

‘Get On Your Own’ has this brilliantly pitched line by Shelley that kicks off each verse, and is probably one of the main competitors for the best track of side one with ‘Sixteen’. ‘Get On Your Own’ is also probably the most pop of the first side too, but it certainly holds more than enough punk punch to keep the energy levels at their usual high.

Side two is an absolute treat. It opens with lead single ‘I Don’t Mind’, which is indisputably superb and beautifully crafted, re-affirming the energy of side one while also upping the romantic theme of the Buzzcocks sound. Two tracks later we’re met by, for me, the best song on the album. Though the B-side to ‘I Don’t Mind’, ‘Autonomy’ has this brash uncaring guitar line, extremely rough but a class above the simplistic three chord thrash of their youthful punk contemporaries.

What’s excels the song further is Shelley. Though usually the hopeful romantic, the shaman or sham, is now angry, accessing Devoto levels of strength and audacity. I’m not entirely sure what he lyrics are about or what Shelley was so angry at, but I’m not complaining. I remember first hearing this, the exuberance and enthusiasm of the song struck me. They drag out the guitar line at the end for as long as possible. It’s a killer riff, produced perfectly. Stunning.

The album closes with the seven-minute thriller ‘Moving Away From The Pulsebeat’. When I saw them live, they fittingly closed with this too. I’d never been much of a fan of this song, but that night changed everything. Shelley is even angrier. All his vocals seem to be a bit off-pitch because of the emotional strain, but it works fantastically. The Diggle solos are high-pitched, jarring, but ultimately so rewarding. The backing of the low-hits of Shelley’s guitar overlook this piece authoritatively, while Maher’s drums are of course the star of the show.

A stunning way to depart from your first full-length LP. Brave, frantic, and undeniably magnificent.

What an album.

Side One: 4/5   Side Two: 5/5   Sleeve: 4/5

And there we have it. Shelley’s death will probably bring about the conclusion of Buzzcocks, unless Devoto would be willing to step in (unlikely, however). What we are left with is one of the most influential collections of artistry ever achieved within the punk movement, and we owe it all to a man with such insight, grace and class. Cheers, Pete.

 

Next: For The Record #4

Musical Epiphanies #4 – Juju – Siouxsie and The Banshees

Throughout my discoveries of punk, I found myself becoming more and more welcoming to atmospheric and ethereal plays on the traditionally abrasive aesthetic. Inevitably, I think this starts for everyone at Joy Division’s now infamously commercialised, though indisputably brilliant, Unknown Pleasures and its utterly soul-destroying successor Closer, which is probably even darker and arguably even better than Unknown Pleasures.

This is not to say they are particularly easy listens – I think Joy Division are a worryingly fitting soundtrack to general adolescent indifference and unjustified hormonal angst, but when I listen now it can sometimes be just too much to handle.

The same can be said for The Cure’s Pornography, which 16-year-old me automatically plunged into after learning the first line of the album was ‘It doesn’t matter if we all die’. This is symbolic of a sensationally disturbing and admittedly pathetic insight into my outlook on impending GCSE exams and unwarranted frustration at the world from which I had been served a grand total of zero injustices. Certainly, Pornography is a thumping serving of majestic misery, but still proves a growingly challenging listen as time goes by.

However, gothic rock has still always held an appeal to me, and two albums stick out in my mind as the most accomplished albums of the sort. Firstly, Faith by The Cure, which is so gloriously depressing and funereal, and then, the subject of the article, Juju by Siouxsie and The Banshees (hereby referred to as Siouxsie).

I was made conscious of Siouxsie’s presence from my parents, who believe they were at the same gig in Hammersmith sometime around 1980 before meeting each other formally in the 1990s. And they say romance is dead!

It’s clear Siouxsie weren’t of the traditional punk ilk. Even from their debut The Scream, much of what we consider goth had been seamlessly incorporated into a more intricate take on punk’s less sophisticated form.

Kaleidoscope was the turning point for me, from awareness to adoration. The song ‘Red Light’ was the oppressive hit of darkness that allowed me to fully enter the gloomy Siouxsie universe, while ‘Skin’ is just a barrage of pure unapologetic gore – wonderfully murderous.

My first encounter with Juju couldn’t have come at a better time, a time when I was embracing goth and all its offerings longingly. What was also more exciting for me was John McGeoch’s starring role as lead guitarist, his first full contribution to a Siouxsie album after minor credits on Kaleidoscope. Being a huge fan of Magazine, McGeoch’s previous group, this was music to my ears (quite literally).

The singles preceding the album were exceptional. Though not on the album, but mentioned simply for its brilliance, ‘Israel’ is a soft-goth anthem which is probably my favourite Siouxsie tune of all. Followed by the powerful ‘Spellbound’ and then the wonderous darkness that is ‘Arabian Knights’, it was clear that even before the album, Siouxsie were on the top of their game.

The latter singles mentioned make up two of the three opening tracks, fabulously interrupted by the expertly crafted ‘Into The Light’, which seems a bit more sombre than the other tracks on the album. The level of musicality is unparalleled for the rest of the tracks, however this is more due to the fact it becomes a punkier album when explored further.

And this is epitomised by the following songs ‘Halloween’ and its successor, the unbelievable ‘Monitor’, which is five minutes of rampant McGeoch-driven chaos. When Juju first came out, My Mum said she used to annoy my Grandad by playing ‘Monitor’ at full blast in her room, which I’ve been guilty of doing myself many times to her. It starts off relatively tame, if you can describe Siouxsie in such words. However, by the two-and-a-half-minute mark everything is ramped up a level, the guitar gets higher, the singing turns to and organised array of shouts, and the hits on the drums become a relentless onslaught on the ears. Sublime.

And what about ‘Night Shift’! I’d say this is the most gothic song on the track, taking a lesson from The Cure on low, droning guitars backed by frail, chilling vocals – very Faith-esque. The moment of silence between the verse and chorus is just utterly, utterly brilliant. Even ‘Sin in My Heart’, yet a simpler song, is equally as punchy, but with a tad more pace and zing.

The album closer, ‘Voodoo Dolly’ is as crazy goth as it can get. It’s a similar vibe to The Cure’s seminal Disintegration, but holds a higher degree of gloominess and a lesser degree of loveliness. It grows into a cacophonous frenzy, reeking with raucousness. A fitting ending track indeed.

Unsurprisingly, Juju is one of the most acclaimed albums both of the time and in the goth arena. I think the adjective ‘timeless’ is thrown around too much and sensationalises many an undeserving album. However, I think Juju, and most of the Siouxsie discography as a whole (apart from their quintessentially 80s cover of ‘The Passenger’), is timeless. There’s something strangely accessible about Juju, yet something still very idiosyncratic and independent from other records.

For me, it’s the perfect blend of post-punk and goth, and epitomises a band at their most artistically confident and powerful. McGeoch is vital to the skilful craft and creation of the album, while Severin’s bass is, as ever, a wonderfully subtle but essential support act. All in all, an album that must be listened to again and again – it is simply brilliant, and was another eye-opening discovery for me.

 

Next: Musical Epiphanies #5 – Public Image Ltd

Musical Epiphanies #2 – Real Life – Magazine

My real gateway into punk was a set of BBC documentaries aired in 2013 (I think) called Punk Britannia, with a compilation of old television performances called Punk Britannia at the BBC. This was how I discovered Gang of Four’s ‘To Hell With Poverty’ performance, my first musical epiphany article.

There are still many moments of this compilation which I hold closely. PiL playing ‘Death Disco’ on Top of the Pops, The Clash on Something Else and Dr Feelgood on OGWT were highlights of a stellar array of artistry.

However, I was strangely intrigued by a performance of ‘Shot By Both Sides’ by a band called Magazine on Top of the Pops. It was something I couldn’t really explain – I didn’t particularly love the song (and still don’t) though something about the singer’s aura, his manner (even his hairline) absolutely fascinated me. He looked so bored, so lethargic, as if this performance on national television was a habitual chore. Each vocal was delivered with this kind of dragging, a laboured mumble that for some reason utterly captivated me. He stood still for nearly all the performance, his eyes staring through the screen. I was totally perplexed.

I had to listen to more. I raced to Spotify and went straight to Real Life, their debut album from 1978. Even the album artwork was so fantastically odd, what would the music be like?

I’d heard punk throughout my childhood, Mum and Dad’s music in the back of the car kind of thing, and I had a fairly eclectic taste for a fourteen-year old, but this was like nothing I’d ever heard before.

I was taken into a mythical realm of fascinating punk experimentation; from the very first second of ‘Definitive Gaze’ I knew I’d discovered something totally out of this world, the whirring synth of Dave Formula in beautiful combat with the soaring guitar of John McGeoch, with Barry Adamson’s bass orchestrating the unfolding of what was, and will remain to be, one of my favourite songs of all time. I loved the instrumental moments, the flourishing of the guitar after the keyboard interlude is simply divine, a beautiful burst of life and vitality. It’s a truly excellent theme tune for an album that reeks with sinister creepiness but lavishes with artistic richness – simply stunning.

What I felt was also brilliant about this album was its total rejection of the original punk aesthetic in a time when punk was still only just holding its own in the musical arena. It offered a retreat from the three-chord thrash of its predecessors, Devoto’s goodbye to a movement that he shaped so meticulously with the Spiral Scratch EP, yet left decaying in its own repetition and depleting innovation.

More superb tracks follow – Motorcade broods with dormant intensity before erupting with a clinical punch, The Light Pours Out of Me is just stunning in its simplicity yet layered so expertly, while Recoil is an absolute frenzy, Devoto straining every vocal cord by the end with sheer power and commitment.

What gives me even greater pride for this album is that in October 2014 I was on the ‘Good Day Bad Day’ segment for Steve Lamacq’s show on BBC Radio 6, where I chose a song for a good day and a song for a bad day. On the bad day was Pink Flag by Wire (which I’m sure I will write about soon – it’s an all-time favourite of mine), while on the good day was, of course, Definitive Gaze. I’m pretty sure it was the first time Magazine had been played on BBC radio for at least six months, which gave me even greater pride.

I think the story of Magazine is an extremely frustrating one, showered with critical acclaim yet sheltered from commercial appreciation. They are easily one of the most underappreciated bands from the punk era – I still listen to Real Life in total awe, taken by its textural and structural complexity.

Real Life took me on an incredible path and helped me discover more avenues in post-punk and beyond. What has and always will stand out is Devoto’s shameless lyricism and voice – it’s a total departure from musical convention and a reinvention of what ‘good’ singing really is, at times a strained nasal bark, at others a collected and intellectual poetic commentary that still maintained the roughest of edges.

All in all, with the backing of some of post-punk’s most cultured and accomplished musicians, Real Life was a true masterpiece of its time, though seemingly forgotten by many. It was my first complete moment of musical euphoria, and will always remain a special album for me, and hopefully for the whole of the music world too.

 

Next: Musical Epiphanies #3 – Wire – Pink Flag