Equus: Huggy Bear - Hopscorch (30 January 1993)

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The Peel Session version of this track has already been covered here and I’m including the studio version for reasons of completeness on the metaphorical mixtape.  The bookending of the song with a clip from The Charlie Brown and Snoopy Show with Linus rebuffing the advances of an obliviously smitten, Sally Brown and a short playlet in which a tongue-tied young man attempts to express his love towards a girl are of a piece with Hopscorch’s themes of moving from an unsatisfying relationship to pastures new with someone else and the traducing of love and relationships to a game in which we can jump from one prospective partner to another as though playing the game from which Hopscorch derives its title.  Until we reach emotional maturity - and that varies from person to person - love remains a childhood game in which people can be replaced on a moment’s notice if someone else’s face fits better.

There remains some disagreement over the spelling of the track title. On the sleeve of Our Troubled Youth, Discogs list it as Hopscotch, but the Peel Session called it Hopscorch and Chris Rowley is clearly singing “…scorch” on the second beat of the word. Huggy Bear were also notable for their Slade-like misspelling of song titles such as Carnt Kiss, so with that in mind, I will stick with Hopscorch.

Though I see Wikipedia spell it Hopscortch.  Oh bugger….

Video courtesy of smallerdrums.

Equus: Randy & the Rainbows - Why Do Kids Grow Up? (30 January 1993)

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In 1963, doo-wop group, Randy and the Rainbows, enjoyed a Number 10 hit on the US Billboard Singles Chart with Denise. It failed to chart in the UK, though 15 years later, Blondie flipped the genders and scored a Number 2 hit on the UK Singles Chart with Denis, which in a neat reversal failed to chart in the US.

Having enjoyed a hit just at the point when doo-wop was beginning to shift from commercial hot-property to a nostalgia fad, Randy and the Rainbows were faced with tricky decisions over what to do with the follow-up single. In the event, they took the most sensible course of action and reused the Denise melody with fresh lyrics. The result was Why Do Kids Grow Up? Unfortunately, the record buyers of America weren’t interested in buying the same record twice and it stalled at Number 97.  The tune is reused, though the lyrics explore one of the obsessions of late 1950s/early 1960s US pop - what could best be described as Wow! That Little Girl I Remember Is All Grown Up Now and How! - in a slightly more philosophical vein than other examples like Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen did.  Here, the rite of childhood is seen as a preparation for falling in love with all the attendant thrills and upheavals that that brings.  In the wrong hands, this could end up sounding like a Giles Coren article set to music, but in the event it manages to be a successful riff on the notion of  childhood relationships, puberty and as a doo-wop version of Circle of Life, 30 years in advance.

Video courtesy of ELTOHOF.

Equus: Skullflower - Black Rabbit (30 January 1993)

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The first time I saw this CD, my rheumy old eyes told me it was called Third Goalkeeper. In fact, it’s not called that at all, it’s called Third Gatekeeper.  (John Peel on the album which Black Rabbit came from.)

What Peel didn’t mention is that Skullflower spelt “Third” as “IIIrd”, an act of pretension which should have seen the album cast into the bin. Having listened to the album in full, while prepping this post, I have to say that had Peel played any track other than Black Rabbit - other than perhaps, Saturnalia - from it, then I would have passed. Unlike many of the tracks on the album, which dicker around inconclusively, but at great volume, Black Rabbit does have some momentum about it, which makes it a slightly compelling listen.  It’s characterised as noise rock, though I found myself recalling it sounding a little like what I remembered as “satanic” or Occult Rock.   During its best moments, Black Rabbit has that feel of demonism and sulphur in the air, whereas most of the rest of IIIrd Gatekeeper swaps sulphur for ear-splitting farts instead.  It was also a reminder that while he may not have been curing cancer or splitting the atom, Peel was worth the money he was paid, having to listen to albums like IIIrd Gatekeeper. I’ve ended up having to do it for love.

Video courtesy of Antro Nero.

Equus: System 7 - 7:7 Expansion [Nutritious Mix] (30 January 1993)

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Two posts ago, I wrote about an 80s post-punker who briefly got bitten by the possibilities of dance music. Now, it’s time to enjoy the work of a pair of 70s prog-rockers who have enjoyed an ongoing 30 year love affair with the genre.  Former Gong members, Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy had already experimented with making ambient music long before they set up System 7.  Music from Hillage's 1979 album, Rainbow Dome Musick had been played by Alex Paterson of The Orb in DJ sets during the late 80s and this appears to have opened the idea for Hillage and Giraudy to form System 7 in 1989.

Had 7:7 Expansion sounded anything like the music on Rainbow Dome Musick, I would have passed on it, but this is a 100% stone-cold classic banger. Unlike some of the other mixes of this track, the Nutritious Mix dials down the Aboriginal Outback feel in place of a slightly more cosmic, spacey vibe albeit one garnished with synths/guitar sounds that mix gristle with liquidity. But it’s the build to total dancefloor euphoria at 6:02 that makes the track.  It was enough to sneak 7:7 Expansion into the UK Top 40 Singles Chart.

Alongside this, Peel played a track from Hillage’s 1977 LP, Motivation Radio called Saucer Surfing, which I would have probably included here had it not featured those awful, processed, metallic voice effects of the late 70s, which were used to denote intergalactic speech, and which go through me like nails down a blackboard.

Video courtesy of Confusion in Motion.

Equus: Shorty - Samtastic (30 January 1993)

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Attempts to syndicate radio programmes in USA, initial enthusiasm of Yank entrepreneurs evaporates when they actually get to hear programmes. Present attempt which has at least got as far as programmes being circulated under sponsorship of Nana company.  Absurdly over-optimistic forecasts of  American publicity machine and general opportunity to snigger.  - John Peel in a letter to literary agent, Cat Ledger, circa 1992 in which he set out the structure of a proposed autobiography. (Republished in Margrave of the Marshes p.482, Corgi, London, 2005.)

1993 offered Peel the chance for his first broadcasts on American radio since he returned to the United Kingdom in 1967.  Under the frankly dreadful title, Peel Out in the States, he compiled 24 half-hour programmes which were distributed to 200 college and commercial radio stations throughout America. The playlists for the shows were mainly made up of British, European and African artists. American artists were restricted to one track per programme in a feature which Peel called the Yank Sizzler. Typically, the choices in the first and third programme were not Nirvana/Pearl Jam wannabes, but rather the hardcore stylings of Chicago band, Shorty.

For me, Samtastic is a borderline inclusion here, but the mix of hardcore vocals, catwail guitar riffs and jazz-funk basslines stays the right side of tolerable, and occasionally veers into the enjoyable. Peel loved it though, describing it as something in the nature of a treat.

Meanwhile, prospective advertisers/sponsors who could have got behind Peel Out in the States and given it nationwide reach, smiled politely, checked their watches and left.  It would take the arrival of the Internet and Radio 1’s early efforts at the Sounds/iPlayer model for Americans to be able hear Peel without the permission of sponsors.

Video courtesy of HydrogenMist

Equus: Influx - Deeva (30 January 1993)

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You’re in your early thirties. You’ve spent the previous 16 years playing in bands that have embraced first wave punk rock (The Epileptics), anarcho-punk/dub (Flux of Pink Indians) and hip hop/electronica (Hotalacio). Now you put out a solo dance record called Deeva, which 30 years from now, a blogger will compare alongside other examples of the form such as Virtual Reality is Here by The Infinity Project. But in 1993, you’re at a crossroads. Do you continue down the dance music path, using the Influx name? Plenty of people still remember Flux of Pink Indians and your former bassist now manages Bjork’s record label.  What’s more, Deeva is a masterpiece, both in 2023 and in 1993, driven along by subtle basslines, euphoric synths, Bollywood inflected opera vocals and an Ennio Morricone brass sample, it should have been in every club and radio DJs’ record box/setlist. And who knows what may have come next.

However, Colin Latter, the musician in question, decided that Deeva would be his parting gift to the music scene. Deciding that the music business was a young person’s game, he changed careers and became a furniture maker. If his furniture’s anywhere near as good as his dance music skills, I’d give him a commission.

Video courtesy of bonbonfabrik