Equus: Cub - What the Water Gave Me (8 January 1993)

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Three surprising things I learned about What the Water Gave Me in ascending order of unexpectedness:

1) The title is taken from a partial self portrait of Frida Kahlo.

2) The track was written by Florence Welch, according to the YouTube algorithms I came across when looking up the video of Cub’s recording. This briefly intrigued me until I found out that to have written this would have been a hell of an achievement given that Welch was only 6 years old at the time that Peel played it. You’ll have to forgive me for my ignorance, I leant more towards Santigold in the late 00s rather than Florence and the Machine. I harboured hopes that the 5 and a half minute choral euphoria of What the Water Gave Me which was recorded for their 2011 LP, Ceremonials was inspired by Welch or Paul Epworth chancing upon the 73 second strum-along which Cub recorded for their debut EP, Pep, 20 years earlier but no, it was inspired by the Kahlo painting.

3) Cub, who included future Peel favourite, Neko Case as an occasional drummer on some of their recordings, were exemplars of a style of music known as cuddlecore, a North American version of twee pop. Considering the critical hostility which bands affiliated to Sarah Records attracted from the UK music press, it’s possible that those same critics would have spontaneously combusted in horror had they attended a Cub gig and seen the girls emphasising their gentle credentials by playing in their pyjamas and giving out presents to the audience.

As ever with twee pop though, while the music may be light and jangly, the lyrics cut deeper than the shiny surface suggests it will.  I had initially been reading an Ophelia subtext into the lyrics as I’m wont to do whenever a fey sounding woman sings about water, but the allusion to bruises worn like new tattoos and love withdrawn from an abuser suggests that the water will give the narrator escape either by sailing away from their troubles, or like Ophelia, a means by which to end their heartache permanently.  Frida (and Florence) would approve.

Video courtesy of Matias Monges

Equus: The Bear Quartet - Headacher (8 January 1993)

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On his 8\1\93 show, John Peel made this confession:

Over the years, I’ve received quite a lot of records and CDs, mainly CDs, from Sweden.  There was somebody who was sending them to me in batches of 20 and 25, and I listened to them very patiently because that’s the kind of twerp I am and I never found anything in them that particularly stimulated me. So when I got a couple more from Sweden, just before Christmas, I must admit they went to the back of the pile. But they made their way to the front during the course of the week...

He found Penny Century, the debut album by five-piece band The Bear Quartet to be a great surprise and a welcome one, though he thought their musical resemblance to Pavement was so close that he had briefly thought when listening to the album that it was an in-joke by Pavement themselves.

This was a borderline inclusion for me, I felt there was a great track in there somewhere, but was irritated that for a long time, I couldn’t make out much from the vocals except the headacher/heartbreaker rhyme which I thought was pretty neat. It was only after going back and listening to the recording of the show that I was able to catch the heartbroken sentiments that underpin the track and how the driving, relentless guitars convey the wish to escape the woman who is causing such pain to Mattias Alkberg.

The Bear Quartet had impressed Peel with Penny Century. It remains to be seen if he was taken by their subsequent work, but there was no shortage of material for them to tempt him with. Between 1992 and 2003, they released 11 albums with a further 4 released after Peel’s death, up to 2010.

Video courtesy of goldentony111

Equus: Ivor Cutler [Peel Session] (8 January 1993)

Recorded on 25 November 1992, this was the 18th session which Ivor Cutler had recorded for Peel. It was perfect timing for Martin Reynolds, one of Peel’s listeners, who had written to request something by Cutler to celebrate the birth of his daughter on New Year’s Eve ‘92. Peel was delighted to have a new Cutler session for everyone to enjoy, though he had to give out his periodical reminder that none of Cutler’s Peel Sessions were commercially available. Himself and Andy Kershaw were determined to try and set up a not-for-profit record label by which means they could distribute the sessions to those who regularly wrote in whenever one was broadcast.  Sadly, this has not yet come to pass.  

In the meantime, Peel’s fervent hope was that Cutler had managed to appear on Radio 5 and by doing so, add to his legend as the only musician to have had his music played on Radios 1, 2, 3 and 4.

This session comprised 11 pieces of prose and short songs.  I will let Ivor fill in the details but they run as follows:

Doing the Bathroom (Part 1) [Prose] - Young Ivor is sent to the rubbish tip to find something to spice up the family’s mince dinner.

The Lid [Prose] - How birdsong works.

25,000 Miles [Prose] - Meditations on walking and the importance of the role of the groin in the act of striding.

Part of the Ground [Song] - A woman settles permanently in a new town.

Between Two Walls [Song] - Do not stand in my light, Daddy...

Your Side [Prose] - The river cuts off the betting shop.

Pschawa [Prose] - The intransigence of bees, especially Polish ones.

Ros Vulgaris [Prose] - Information about the dewdrop.

Dale Song [Song] - Topography.

Two Paracetamol [Song] - A slipped disc while washing a handkerchief.

Doing the Bathroom (Part 2) [Prose] - Seven year old Ivor starts to form political convictions.

Video courtesy of Fruitier Than Thou.

Equus: D.H.S - House of God [X-Energy remix] (8 January 1993)

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A prime example of an artist's debut musical statement overshadowing their subsequent work, The House of God, originally issued by Ben Stokes aka Dimensional Holofonic Sound (D.H.S) on Hangman Records in 1990, is one of the most remixed dance tunes in the history of the genre. The main source of its longevity appears to be the beguiling nature of its principal sample, the unidentified televangelist whose voice sounds compassionate, wise, inspirational and genuine even while exhorting listeners to send in donations of 50 dollars or more so that God's work can continue.  Full details can be found on the original mix. Indeed, it's because the televangelist sounds so reasonable and humble compared to the more flamboyant hucksters which we associate with American religion that we're moved to support him. However, the sound of bombs dropping at 2.25 acts as a reminder to the listener to keep their scepticism closer to their wallet than their generosity when considering such requests.

The X-Energy mix was taken from a 1991 release on an Italian label of the same name.  Stokes, who has been much in demand as a director of music videos, has continued to intermittently release records under the D.H.S moniker, with the most recent being a 2020 LP called Seeing is Believing.

Video courtesy of Energy TV

Equus: Ongaku - Mihon #1 (8 January 1993)

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Ongaku - Japanese word for music.

Mihon - Japanese word for sample or specimen.

But alas, the Ongaku group on this release from Pod Communication were not Japanese, but German.  One of them, Uwe Schmidt got played by Peel around six months before this show as part of Bi-Face. There appear to be around 5 different Mihon tracks put out by Ongaku (3 were on the Mihon 12-inch and 2 more came out on compilations) of which Mihon #1 is by far the most danceable, although it’s more subtly constructed than your average banger. The other 4 Mihons lean more towards ambient trance and given his love of Star Trek, Peel would have found much to enjoy on the samples used on Mihon #2. However, Mihon #1 is the one to have on while you’re doing something.  Given the swishing noises that form a backdrop to large parts of the track, it’s music for artexing to.

Video courtesy of Bunker Headz.

Equus: Bongwater: Nick Cave Dolls (8 January 1993)

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This blog took John Peel’s Radio 1 show from 2 November 1991 as its starting point. Ordinarily, the beginning of November was a time of great excitement on his show as it heralded the opening of voting for The Festive Fifty, whereby listeners could vote for their favourite 3 records played by Peel during the course of the year. 1991 should have been the 15th anniversary of the list, but due to a poor response from listeners, Peel decided not to proceed with one that year. According to Peel, voting had been so slow that any record receiving votes was likely to make into that year’s chart, which he felt rather defeated the point of the exercise.  Indeed, it seemed likely from his demeanour when he announced the cancellation of voting that the Festive Fifty had run its course altogether.

However, it was back the following year and apart from a truncated chart in 1997, it retained its place in Peel’s schedule for the remainder of his life.  At some point during 1992, while going through paperwork at home, he found the bundle of cards and correspondence that constituted the votes for the 1991 Festive Fifty. He didn’t have time to go through them and make them into a chart but offered any interested listener the opportunity to take the data and compile it into a chart. This was carried out by a listener in Sheffield, whose work was labelled The Phantom Fifty by Peel and which he broadcast, at a rate of one track per Radio 1 show, over the first half of 1993.

At Number 50, sat Nick Cave Dolls, a track from Bongwater’s 1990 album, The Power of Pussy.  Sonically, the set up is close to the previous Bongwater song featured on this blog, once you get past the Boomhauer - like sampling at the start, the track starts with a halting, drone like guitar, damped down and struggling to assert itself. It needs something special to lift this track to our attention and thankfully, Ann Magnuson provides it with her dream-like narration, which may not be entirely coincidental given that she sometimes used to use a dream journal as a basis for lyrics on Bongwater content.  However, this cannot be entirely taken for granted as she may well have had experience of the scene on Hollywood Boulevard that she describes.

The narrative feels Lynchian but Magnuson is setting out a path that would point the way to movies more than a decade away from realisation such as Mulholland Drive and Inland Empire. Here, the stars are all shrouded in red light and the only auditions are not for blockbusters and Oscar contenders, but nude/lingerie poseathons. It’s a good thing that Magnuson confesses to feeling horny enough to want to get involved, but her reference to murdered Playboy model/actress Dorothy Stratten  shows that she’s not blind to the danger which presents itself as she gets talking to a freak attending the poseathon who talks about burying his toys so that no one else can use them. It’s at this point that the track starts to veer more towards the territory that Magnuson may have chronicled in her dream journal, albeit that the punchline feels like a cry from the subconscious which was too neat to go unused in the track.

The opening 85 seconds of Nick Cave Dolls may test many people’s patience, but the rest is pure Bongwater: skeletal, sensual, absurd, funny, brilliant - and Peel’s listeners only rated this at Number 50?  No wonder he tried to abort the whole enterprise.

Video courtesy of hunchybunker.