Guys and Dolls: Jimmy Reed - Hush-Hush (22 May 1993)

 

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There’s already a blogpost featuring this song, dating from the very earliest days of the blog in which I included it in a post outlining my favourite tracks from Peel’s final Radio 1 show. I put that up at the time without comments to mark the tenth anniversary of Peel’s final Radio 1 broadcast, but back then I was still figuring out how this blog would work and I didn’t want to focus too much on the end of Peel’s career. But, 11 years before his death, Hush-Hush, originally recorded by his beloved Jimmy Reed in 1960, was cropping up on this 22/5/93 show, and in doing so, finally ensured Reed took his place on the metaphorical mixtape.

I still hold to my earlier contention that all Jimmy Reed songs sound the same. Indeed, one of the reasons why Hush-Hush has been included here is because I briefly thought it was actually Too Much*, my favourite Reed song. But, as overused as it is, the rolling blues scale which underpins Hush-Hush and most other Reed songs, sweeps the listener in to shoulder-rolling-head-bobbing submission. 

Peel spoke once about how, as a live performer, Reed tended to sing more slowly as his set progressed, and there are moments here where he sounds like he’s singing a song called Hughe-Hughe, but with his lyrical parries to the attacks of a nagging, suspicious partner, he also manages to provide inspiration to future songs as diverse as Rabbit by Chas and Dave and It Wasn’t Me by Shaggy.

Samey? Pretty much, yeah. Influential? Obviously!

*Apologies for not doing a link to Too Much, but I’m sure it’ll turn up on a Peel show I’m covering at some point in the future, and I’d like to hold it back as a treat.

Video courtesy of Carlos Rasool.

Guys and Dolls: Eric’s Trip - Hurt (22 May 1993)

 

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Fans of the Canadian band, Eric’s Trip, would have been in heaven during the Spring of 1993 given that two different labels released an EP and a mini-album by them in that period. Peel had already played tracks from the mini-album, Peter, released by Murderecords (though it was also issued by Sub Pop in Germany). Now Sub Pop was issuing an EP called Songs About Chris. If you bought the maxi-EP and paired it up with Peter, you had 12 new songs with only Listen appearing on both records.

Hurt does exactly what it says on the tin, the only question is whether the lyrics refer to it being felt after an argument, a break-up or a bereavement. I think it may be the latter given that there are references to the other person having a stupid mouth and being someone who complained a lot. Hurt me with the words/Scream ‘em in my ears/Cause it’s OK implies that this person was a drag to be around, but that never hearing from them again is too upsetting to contemplate.  

The moral appears to be love and cherish those around you; even the ones who bug the hell out of you, because when those annoyances have gone for good, you’re going to miss them.

Peel played Hurt together with another track from the EP called Sloansong. This may have been a tribute to the band, Sloan, who owned Murderecords. One of the lyrics even says Get that Sloan song zooming through my head/Do the words relate to me?  I wonder if this was the one they had in mind?

Video courtesy of contraflow.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors,

Guys and Dolls: The Glory Strummers - Neglected ‘N’ Blue (22 May 1993)

 

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This was the final record that Peel played on 22/5/93. He admitted that when he received a copy of The Glory Strummers EP, Retrograde Steps, he had been unenthusiastic about listening to it, because he found the band’s name off-putting. However, he really enjoyed the EP, of which Neglected ‘N’ Blue was the opening track.

If you’re cynical about bands trying to do the whole 70s punk sound a decade or more after the original scene had happened, you may find it difficult not to snigger at Neglected ‘N’ Blue. Listening to the drum roll that accompanies the opening riff, you may find yourself thinking, “I bet the singer’s going to shout Hey! any second….now!” and you’d be right to do so. I confess that I blew hot and cold on it when initially re-listening to it, but I was finally won over by The poor little rich kid refrain and a gradual understanding about what the song was about. I say gradual because while some parts of the lyric ring out loud and clear, other parts are too garbled to fully make out.

If punk rock’s principal lyrical qualities were anger and piss taking, then Neglected ‘N’ Blue mixes a smidgin of the former with a dollop of the latter.  The target of the song appears to be affluent students who are able to delay having to go out and work by taking a year out. The line You don’t care about people suggests that The Glory Strummers have particular contempt for those who use their time out to have an ongoing holiday, rather than use the time to help those less fortunate than themselves. I could be misinterpreting the song, and in a way I hope I am given that my reading of it suggests righteous anger on one hand and unattractive envy on the other. 

Ultimately, I think it takes a slightly superficial line of thinking that money should insulate you from unhappiness, which it can in terms of not needing to worry about paying your next bill, but it also labours under the misapprehension that mental health anxiety is a myth when applied to the well off. If it wasn’t for the fact that the performance is so electric, I might have left Neglected ‘N’ Blue off on the grounds of a shitty attitude. Emotional uncertainty is no respecter of bank balances after all.

Video courtesy of Release - Topic

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

Guys and Dolls: John Peel Show - Friday 14 May 1993 (BBC Radio 1)

My notes describe this show as being …at times, like a Peel Show version of Junior Choice. This is because at least two of the records played on the show were inspired by children. He played Open the Door, Richard! by Louis Jordan and his Tympany Five, originally recorded in 1947, in response to a fax he had received from James Turner, aged 6, from Cardiff. James wrote to say that he liked Peel’s show, that he had a tape of Jordan’s music and wanted to know whether Peel liked him too. Peel dedicated Open the Door, Richard! to James, claiming that this, and Silver Dollar, were the first songs in his life that he had learned the words to.

Meanwhile, Peel’s son, Tom, was away on a school trip to Normandy, so he dedicated 33% Free by Ford to him, just in case he was able to hear the programme on a long wave frequency. According to the John Peel wiki though, Peel ended up playing the other side, Friendly, which ended up delaying the 11:30pm news by an extra minute.

Other dedications included Enna Garrib by Harram, which went out to the taxi driver who had taken Peel from Stowmarket to Colchester earlier in the week. This was the longest journey he had ever done by cab, though he didn’t specify which roads he’d been taken on. 

A14/A12 covers 28.6 miles, A14/A12/A134 would have been 28.7 miles, with the A14 alone offering the longest journey of all at 30.2 miles.  If he was using “Stowmarket” to encompass a pick up from Peel Acres, then the distances increase to 31.2 miles via A14/A12, 31.4 miles if using Combs Lane before the A14/A12, but the quickest journey of the lot - in terms of distance - would have been via the B1115, which was only 26.2 miles, though it was the longest journey in terms of time, at 48 minutes.

Perhaps Peel had needed to use the taxi in order to take him to see The Fall, who he had seen in Cambridge, earlier in the week, and whose performance he described as at their most non-commital. He opened the show by playing Everything Hurtz, which would have made a nice partner to a similarly named REM hit which was clogging up the airwaves around April/May 1993.

This show was also to have featured the naming of winners for a competition relating to Sebadoh, but he had received no entries for it. Peel blamed himself for this as he had given out what he termed a silly address for the entries to be sent to and realised in retrospect that this may have put people off.

The show was notable for Peel being thrown into a state of alarm when he realised, halfway through the programme, that he had mistimed the music he was going to play through the various hours of his show. One hour had 75 minutes’ worth of music programmed in, while another hour only had 45 minutes’ worth. This was problematic because he also had to ensure that the news bulletins came in at the right time.

One record which was unaffected by all this was Ritmista! by Astrospider, which was the first fruit of Peel’s hookup with the Belgian label, Wonka Beats. Peel had made contact with them during his Grand Tour of Europe, the previous autumn, and they had promised to send him all of their future releases.

The selections from this show were taken from a full 3 hour programme. Everything which made my initial list of selections was available, but five choices fell from favour on relistening:

Blade - Keep It Goin’ On - UK rapper, Blade, made history in June 1993 when he released the double-album, The Lion Goes From Strength to Strength. This was one of the first albums ever to be released via crowdfunding:

The original crowd funded album, just goes to show how far ahead of the game Blade was. I sent off my cheque (for £25 from memory) to Blade months before the album was released and my name is in the album. Every mail order piece of vinyl I bought from Blade had a hand written note from him included. Absolute legend of the UK rap scene. (A messageboard comment by sskelly on Discogs, 13 August, 2021).

Keep It Goin’ On was the opening track on The Lion Goes From Strength to Strength. It always had a question mark against it, because it was OK, but not OK enough to make me want to keep it. I then did that thing I occasionally do where I listen to an album that a track has been taken off to see whether it would ultimately make my mind up for me - see Gallon Drunk on the previous Friday’s Peel Show. I need to stop doing this, because, apart from setting it in context, it really isn’t a particularly relevant method of choosing whether to include a single piece of music by comparing it to potentially better pieces of music by the same artist. Make no mistake, some of the tracks I heard from The Lion Goes From Strength to Strength (I didn’t listen to the whole album) were very good indeed. For instance, Gripper the Pitbull (The Approach) would have got on without any problems at all. But ultimately, doing this only caused me to wish that Peel had been playing that instead of this. As I listened to the other tracks I became quite beaten down by the aggression and attack, it all seemed to become rather one note. Hence, why my summary of  For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hyper, which I listened to after some prolonged exposure to Blade, was so succinct. After all the moaning, it was a necessary blast of effervescence. Still, I have a Blade track down on my list of selections from Friday 28 May 1993, so maybe he will end up in the mixtape after all.

Ohio Players - Walt’s First Trip - 1970s funk and a track recorded for their 1972 album, Pleasure, which appears to have been a companion album to another album they released the same year called Pain. A look at their album covers suggests that the team behind This is Spinal Tap may have had both them and Roxy Music in mind when it came to the idea around the Smell the Glove album cover.  I sometimes get blindsided with surprise when Peel plays a funk/soul track because of a misconception I have about him not being keen on the genre. This is palpably untrue and is most likely down to me constantly making the touristy mistake that because Peel preferred the output of labels like Stax over Motown, that any soul based record appearing on his show is a surprise. As a result it means that I’ll initially include pleasant if unremarkable instrumentals like this one. It’s only on re-listening that I find myself thinking less about how I would dance to the tune and more about what I would be ordering for a starter if it was playing in a restaurant. And speaking of pleasant but wholly unremarkable…

The Edsel Auctioneer - Philled/Summer Hit [Peel Session] - Oh lads, lads, lads….another name to add to the list alongside Stereolab and The Hair and Skin Trading Company of artists who regularly make my initial list of inclusions but who fall from favour at the moment that I would be pressing the record button on the metaphorical mixtape. This is the third occasion that I’ve left The Edsel Auctioneer out in the cold. I’m not going to lie, their name is a big turn-off for me, but ultimately they are far too bland for me to want to keep hold of. My notes say that I agreed with Peel that Summer Hit was the best track of the session.  

Both Philled and Summer Hit ended up on The Edsel Auctioneer’s second album, The Good Time Music Of…, released in 1995. Looking at the track titles, my interest was piqued by it including a track called 11th September ‘94*. Morbid curiosity provoked me to listen to it to see whether the band had any kind of foresight for the terrible events that would take place on that date, seven years later. But all I got was, what d’you know, a pleasant but inessential instrumental track, which is notable only for the fact that it has commentary from Leeds United’s 2-1 win over Manchester United, which was played on the same day, in the background.

The full session is available including two additional songs called Simple and State of Grace.

Candy Machine - The Merchant’s Square/Macrobot - Peel played three tracks from the Baltimore band’s eponymous debut album on this show. These two made my initial list, The Constant didn’t. Having listened back to the tracks, I see now that the only reason I chose them to start with is because I liked the band’s name. The Edsel Auctioneer were always up against it, and ultimately they missed out because the quality wasn’t good enough. Candy Machine’s name promised sweet treats, but the music was gnarlier and lumpier than I thought it would be or that I could stand it being. The Candy Machine album is available for listening. The Merchant’s Square and Macrobot are the first two tracks.

Admiral Bailey - Can’t Keep a Good Man Down - This started out quite promisingly, but I lost patience with it when halfway through, the Admiral abandoned what he was doing and started to perform Psalm 23 - The Lord Is My Shepherd instead.

Full tracklisting

*By curious quirk of fate, the Peel Show that I’ve just finished listening to for this blog was the one from exactly a year before The Edsel Auctioneer recorded that instrumental.

Guys and Dolls: Hyper - For Whom the Bell Tolls (14 May 1993)

 

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I’ll elaborate more in the next post, but sometimes all a man needs is a trance techno record which sounds like Evelyn Glennie working in a studio after ingesting her own body weight in cocaine.

Video courtesy of onlyraretracks.

Guys and Dolls: Meat Beat Manifesto - Radio Babylon/Soul Driver/Fire Number 9 [Peel Session] (14 May 1993)

 

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Having failed to bill the first airing of Meat Beat Manifesto’s one and only Peel Session when it was broadcast on Saturday 6 February 1993, the Radio Times tried to make up for it when the repeat went out on this 14/5/93 show. Unfortunately, they spelled the band’s name as Meat Ball Manifesto, a mistake which Peel felt moved to apologise on air for. But, all things considered, the Radio Times error wasn’t so far off the mark because the quality of 3/4 of the tracks in this session really was different gravy…

Listeners were treated to past, present and future in this session. The three tracks that would have made it on to my mixtape all differ stylistically from one another, but contain little offcuts and sprinkles that offer moments of familiarity amid the strange melange of sounds and atmospheres in each track. 

Radio Babylon grabs me for slightly more synesthistic reasons than it might to do others. Primarily an exercise in breakbeat, what I like are the samples of Babylon that ring out throughout the track. I had initially thought it was taken from some high-minded, ecstatic reggae record, but why should Meat Beat Manifesto have to reach into the deepest corners of their record collection, when they can just lift the word straight out of the chorus of Rivers of Babylon by Boney M, drench it in reverb and in doing so, transport me back to a mental space where I’m watching exotically filmed adverts on sunny curtain drawn afternoons in the mid 1980s -  The Art of Noise did that to me once. To my ears, what Meat Beat Manifesto did with that sample moved it from the realm of drunken family parties and instead evoked sun blasted landscapes and the bleat of a car horn as a crowd of millions takes to the streets, chanting for something better than the wretched normality they’re served up with as their everyday existence and hissed at to be grateful for.  It’s retro, it’s the sound of Rastafarian New Yorkers playing their mixes on the ghetto blaster on a hot day in the West Side as the fire hydrant plumes its water upwards.  This isn’t bad going for two men - Jonny Stephens and Jack Dangers - from Swindon.

As it progresses though, it becomes slightly stranger, as though the radio is picking up subconscious thoughts and feelings on its frequencies. One of these appears to be a sample of the panicked cry of Oh no! which opens I Can’t Control Myself by The Troggs. It leads me to wonder whether, when Meat Beat Manifesto recorded the session on 13 December 1992, they were trying to warn the world that 18 months later, a cover of a Troggs song was going to be completely inescapable for the whole of a summer. By the end, the track has descended into something which sounds like it’s trying to fuse together the sentiments of Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft with the mood of the final 90 seconds of Bike by Pink Floyd. 

 If Radio Babylon represented the past - it had originally been released as a single in 1990  - then Soul Driver points to the immediate future. Starting out of a trip hop beat, we’re then taken into a lyric in which Dangers details various stages of paranoia, to which music seems to be the only cure:

Soul driver, the beat improviser.

Soul driver, the rhythm organiser.

Soul driver, the beat provider.

Soul driver,  can you turn the lights up on the rhythm.

Which it then does as Meat Beat Manifesto try to take us inside the rhythm, garlanding it with noodling guitar lines of such gentleness, that it feels like the music is trying to cocoon the listener from their troubles. Even the repeated verse of paranoia and worry finds itself being subsumed into the music as it tries to filter out the bad vibes. And from 2:33 onwards to the end of the track, Soul Driver plays out with a repeated Mellotron line which leads the listener down to Eden, to the accompaniment of an aural winding down, which encourages the listener to let go of all feelings of struggle and stress. In a year’s time, this would start to become a dominant sound in dance music, just within a brief window, but long enough and distinctly enough to mark it out as an original 90s scene.

The sense of something winding down also permeates the last 90 seconds of Fire Number 9, which was a remix of a track called #9 Bad Acid, that had originally been recorded by Dimensional Holofonic Sound on the original version of House of God. Jack Dangers’s remix was put out by DHS on a record called LSD3D Acid Mixes. The only real difference between the record mix and the Peel Session version is that the record opens with someone saying It only has to be heard to be absorbed rather than the more hypnotic refrain of You’ve eliminated any interruptions or distractions. For the rest, the track remains dominated by a driving drum beat waiting for Primal Scream to swoop in, take it away and titivate it up for use in Rocks, later that year. It also brings together two of the definitive found sounds of the year 1968:

1) Arthur Brown bellowing I am the god of hellfire, and I bring you at the top of his Number 1 hit, Fire.

2) The most famous use of the words Number 9 in Western culture; namely as part of the refrain heard at regular intervals throughout Revolution 9 by The Beatles. 

For me, it’s that juxtaposition that makes the track essential to keep. 30 years on from this session, Meat Beat Manifesto and DHS would come together again to collaborate on an EP called Man From Mantis.

The fourth track in the session was Drop, a discordant electronica track which had an additionally atonal vocal thrown in for added annoyance. But three out of four isn’t bad and in many ways Meat Beat Manifesto were only getting started. With Jack Dangers as the only constant member, they have continued to issue singles, albums and collaborations up to the present day. But Peel, whose support had only been occasional since they started issuing records in 1988, didn’t go with them. Barring a single play of one of their tracks on a 1997 compilation album called Sally’s Photographic Memory, they never featured on a Peel Show again after this session repeat.

 

Videos courtesy of Dub Records.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

Guys and Dolls: Turbulence - Whurlstorm (14 May 1993)

 

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I had a question mark next to this when I added it to the long list of selections from this show, but its place on the metaphorical mixtape was never in doubt once I established which version of Whurlstorm - out of four different mixes - Peel had played on 14/5/93.

Whurlstorm first surfaced as the flipside to the first Turbulence release, Whurlwind. Issued on Industrial Strength Records, it was essentially a slightly sped up version of the one that Peel played on this show, which was the lead version on a trio of mixes which were put out on Super Special Corp,  the label that put out the rest of Turbulence’s releases during the 90s.

What makes Whurlstorm essential is that it’s one of those techno tracks where its highpoints really stand out when they arrive. Dance music is built on mythology and hype, and for all the talk about laying down the groove or setting up the beat, so many dance tracks are a series of longueurs, interspersed with moments of extreme, ecstatic activity designed either to get you busting a move if you’re on the dancefloor or looking up in interest and exhilaration if you’re sat listening to it. Such is the case here, where after 35 seconds of low key beats and bleeps, we’re thrown into something which sounds like processed turn-table needle scratching fed through a wah pedal, but done at such speed and with such musicality, it makes you immediately want to start breakdancing to it. It crops up again at 1:34.

But as with a soukous track, it’s the final 2 and a half minutes that contains Whurlstorm’s true ace. You’ll hear throughout the track treated vocal cries of Whurlstorm and Yeah, mixed in such a way to make them sound like they are being growled by a subterranean monster. From around 3:34, that monster makes its presence known. Firstly, there’s a descending line of sound which sounds like power circuits running down. Then at 3:45, there’s a brief bit of white noise which evokes birds flying off into the distance, just the way that they do in nature when they become aware, often ahead of man, that a natural disaster is about to happen. 

And then, from 3:55, it strikes. Imagine if the pulverising, juggernaut bassline ripping through the earth in Humanoid by Skyflyer -  played by Peel almost a year before this programme - had laid an egg. Now, a year later, that egg hatches a full size monster, rearing up and destroying everything above it. The final two minutes encapsulate a sense of disorientation, destruction, panic (represented by a couple of returns for the breakdance music), before ultimately ending on a note of calm after everything has been razed to the ground.

This mix of Whurlstorm is known as A1. Of the other two mixes of Whurlstorm that came out alongside it, I’d recommend B2 on the grounds that if A1 deals in destruction, then B2 concerns itself with rebirth and reconstruction. Its relentless beat and throbbing synth-line evoking a community fixing its buildings and its spirit after the monster has gone.

Video courtesy of Les Enfants Terribles.

Guys and Dolls: Leatherface - Books (14 May 1993)

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I’ve been off work this week and have been enjoying and enduring record breaking temperatures for May in the United Kingdom. What I discovered in the early part of the week, when temperatures were at their hottest, is that they are not good conditions for listening to anything by Leatherface.  Each time I tried to start listening to Books, which was recorded for their fourth album, Minx, I found myself skipping on elsewhere after 30 seconds, “I’m too tired for you today” was my general attitude.  And if thrashy guitar noise was all that Leatherface had to offer, I may still be sitting here, necking cloudy lemonade and putting them off until the drizzle returns next week. But I persevered and in doing so found I was reminded of something I wrote about when they last featured on this blog - you really have to listen to the words. They may have looked like they were all you ever need to meet your bricklaying needs, but they were virtuoso musicians and romantic poets, in a way that contrasted with their sound. They had you cherishing beauty and melancholy, even while you moshed as though your life depended on it.

Books is another example of the music of aggressive reflection which appears to characterise many of Leatherface’s songs. Here, author Frankie Stubbs examines a relationship between a brother and a sister which has seen both of them become paralysed with inertia. It’s not explained whether one is caring for the other, or if both of them have seen their lives shrink due to uncontrolled circumstances. Throughout the song, there are references to things and objects from another time, which have stayed in place through habit for so long that the house they share seems to be physically crying out for change:

A house full of things some of which they hadn’t seen

Since they bought the sodding things in 1980-something.

And if only their place 

Had a little more space

And a little less waste

That would be something.

Stubbs is an observer to this unchanging picture, chafing at the bit to get out and get away:

I don’t wanna be, bound up like books.

I don’t wanna be a sad ornament of a place.

However, the cracked vocal note on which he ends the song implies a moment of doubt as to whether he will avoid the same fate.

As the year progressed, Leatherface moved towards a split. They recorded a third session for Peel on 23 December, which was broadcast in February ‘94, by which time Stubbs announced their dissolution, onstage, during a gig at The Garage, Islington. They reformed again, 5 years later and released four further studio albums between 1999 and 2010. 

Apart from their final session, Peel never played anything else by them after this programme, though he had been reading up on the band through an article in a magazine called Paint It Red, which focussed on the music scene in the North East. He was particularly taken by a photo in it of PJ Harvey, who were about to play a gig in Newcastle, which he thought was the best one he’d ever seen of her/them. That evening, the band* had played at the University of East Anglia, with Sheila and William in attendance.

While researching this blogpost, I discovered just how highly rated and influential Leatherface were, with some describing them as the best UK punk band of the 90s, and their third album, Mush, venerated as one of the best guitar records of the decade. So, why did they not reach wider acclaim? Some answers may be found in this article/interview with Laurence Bell who had the group signed to his Roughneck Recording Company label and also put out a posthumous album after Leatherface’s first split, on Domino.  

Video courtesy of Leatherface - Topic

All lyrics are copyright of Frankie Stubbs.

*I can’t wait till we get to the To Bring You My Love phase and know conclusively that all references to PJ Harvey refer to a person rather than a group.

Guys and Dolls - Gunshot - Bombing in 5 Minutes [Instrumental] (14 May 1993)

 

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NOTE - On this video, Bombing in 5 Minutes begins at 20:00.

To celebrate the release of their debut album, Patriot Games, the Leytonstone rap trio, Gunshot’s label, Vinyl Solution also commissioned a limited edition (1000 copies) of instrumental mixes from the album.

Bombing in 5 Minutes takes its title from a hot-mic joke made by Ronald Reagan before recording his live weekly radio address to the American people on 11 August, 1984. Reagan intended to use that week’s recording to announce legislation which would allow student religious groups to meet on school premises outside school hours. During a soundcheck ahead of the broadcast, Reagan spoofed his announcement by saying:

My fellow Americans, I’m pleased to tell you today that I’ve signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever. We begin bombing in five minutes. 

How we laughed back in the day - John Peel after playing Bombing in 5 Minutes on this 14/5/93 show.

Although always intended as a joke, in the Two Tribes-esque atmosphere that still characterised the Cold War at the time, it wouldn’t have done much to reassure a scared world that any of these people had the slightest clue about what they were doing*.

As a reflection that the world of 1993 was in a happier place than had been the case, nine years earlier, Peel played Bombing in 5 Minutes as a response to a story in one of the news bulletins, which punctuated his programme, that America was decommissioning its Strategic Defence Initiative, otherwise known as the Star Wars programme, which had been in operation for a decade and intended to protect America from missile attacks.

As to how the instrumental version of Bombing in 5 Minutes compared to Gunshot’s vocal performance on the original Patriot Games album, I have to say that it doesn’t sound to me like much was being missed by going with the instrumental version. The vocal is so muddily recorded that it’s difficult to really get an handle on what’s going on beyond them using it as a self-motivation talk to themselves ahead of future rap battles against other crews. They certainly seemed to see these contests in apocalyptic terms given that Patriot Games included tracks with titles like World War 3 and Reign of Terror.

A contemporaneous musical take on the story courtesy of Jerry Harrison and Bootsy Collins, released under the name, Bonzo Goes to Washington.

*Things have changed so much, haven’t they…

More on the background and fallout from Reagan’s gaffe.

Video courtesy of SteveWonda and Talking Heads.

Guys and Dolls: The Tribesmen - Hot & Horny (14 May 1993)

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Recommended to Peel by colleagues at Radio 5, Hot & Horny was the final release by The Tribesmen, a house music collective of which there isn’t much clear information available beyond the fact that, on this record, DJ Yomi contributed and that the guitar lines were played by Jez Ansell.

Listening to it, I find myself wondering whether Grant Buckerfield was a fan of it given that he appears to have used at least one of the drum breaks as a direct inspiration in his theme tune for I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here!

Video courtesy of The Football Programme and taken directly from a John Peel show, but not from 14/5/93.

Guys and Dolls: Machine - Eighty-Nine (14 May 1993)

 

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Machine was a one-off release from long-time collaborators, Alan Sage and Luke Slater. Eighty-Nine was the third track on an EP called Integrated Harmony. It’s possible that I would have overlooked it entirely had I not initially been engaged by its high tempo opening…which came about because Peel played it at the wrong speed. My notes, though, state that the track was Not without its charms, and although I prefer the EP’s title track, I think that the sentiment holds true when listened to at the correct speed. 

To anyone unsure whether or not to click the Play icon, I would say that Eighty-Nine is a must listen if you prefer the burblier end of acid techno rather than the squelchy end. I hope that helps.

Video courtesy of Acidalia.

Guys and Dolls: Grotus - Good Evening/The Same Old Sauce (14 May 1993)

 

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The last time Grotus appeared on a John Peel show, it was with a cover of We’re An American Band by Grand Funk. Now, 18 months later, they were back with their second album, Slow Motion Apocalypse, a title which, with 33 years’ worth of hindsight, appears laughably self-indulgent now.

I’m not crazy about a lot of violence on the screen, unless it’s done with a certain amount of taste.

Well, there’s more violence on the TV news then there is in the movie….

Taken from an interaction between Michael Rupert and Joe Spinnell when they appeared on an episode of The Joe Franklin Show on 27 January 1981. Spinnell was appearing to promote the slasher movie, Maniac.

Spinnell slightly undercut his own argument in the show by warning people not to come to the movie if they didn’t like blood and gore, but his point about the evening news still stands and has been periodically explored by musicians through the years.

Whether it’s over breakfast, lunch, dinner, before we go to bed, or over the course of the last 40 years, on a 24 hour cycle, the news is always out there and ready to give us a daily diet of murder, mayhem, repression, crime and political chaos that would fill a hundred different films. Good Evening comes from a pre-internet world and through its rising collage of jump cuts, backed by an annoyingly chirpy piece of library music, it shows how, each evening, avuncular looking middle-aged men would sit behind a desk, give us a friendly greeting and then tell us all about the awful things going on nationally and internationally. Americans - or in the UK , anyone watching either ITV News or Channel 4 News - would find the catalogue of misery interrupted by commercial breaks selling products that were intended to help with physical ailments before being pitched back into the rundown of awfulness, that could be happening right outside the front door. 

It’s pretty unsparing stuff. It doesn’t even include the more light-hearted “And finally…” news items that were designed to ensure that the news programmes always ended on an upbeat note. It’s not a new idea though, by any sense. 27 years earlier, Simon & Garfunkel closed their Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme album with 7 O’Clock News/Silent Night in which they sang the Christmas carol in counterpoint to a news bulletin from Wednesday, 3 August 1966 which included brief summaries on disputes over the progress of the Civil Rights Act*, the death of comedian, Lenny Bruce, Martin Luther King preparing for a march due to take place in Chicago, disruption at HUAC’s hearings into anti-Vietnam War sentiment, and Richard Nixon calling for more funding for the war effort to prevent it stretching on for another five years, as well as labelling those against the war as a threat to American society. Which shows how intellectually barren MAGA’s appropriation of this crap has been.

Peel let Good Evening run on into The Same Old Sauce, which it was paired with on Slow Motion Apocalypse. I’m not crazy about it, but have kept it here for the sake of completeness and because it is an industrial metal take on the corrosive nature of television on the psyche and intellect. At the end, Lars Fox asks, There’s one thing that I want to know/Were people this stupid before there was TV? to which the only real answer is, well yes, but the population at large probably didn’t realise just how stupid everyone else was before it.

Video courtesy of IJWTHSTD Archives.

Lyrics are copyright of Lars Fox.

*60 years on, Republican Party legislatures seem to be doing everything they can to repeal this.

Guys and Dolls: John Peel Show - Friday 7 May 1993 (BBC Radio 1)

When I was acting in the play, Here Comes a Chopper, last year, I spent several happy hours talking about music with the director’s husband, Brian Harrington, who was playing the part of Death. During the rehearsal period, he was selling the majority of his extensive record collection, most of which made up the playlists for on his shows for Kennet Radio. One band he mentioned to me a couple of times was Stray, who having formed in 1966 are currently - as of 2023 - onto their fifth reformation. I listened to one of their tracks during the rehearsal period, and thought it was OK, but it turned out that I’d already heard them a couple of years previously, when Peel played Jericho from the 1971 album, Suicide. He was inspired to do this after playing a track called Stray by Heatmiser, which featured Elliott Smith. I wonder what Brian would have made of Peel summarising Stray as a good Second Division band from the era.

Amongst all the usual letters and faxes, it was an answerphone message that had grabbed Peel’s attention during the week. An unidentified, distraught man had left a message on the office answerphone talking about the death of their mother. Given that he was still processing the death of his own mother, the year before, Peel reached out to the caller to get in touch again if they were listening.

This blog’s been covering the 7 May 1993 edition of Kat’s Karavan since 21 January, and it’s no surprise given how many good records were broadcast that night. It’s likely that we’d still have been on this show for another month if the following tracks hadn’t fell from favour with me:

Jerry Lee Lewis - Crazy Arms - When it comes to Jerry Lee Lewis, nothing else showed me how much I’ve been ruined by Great Balls of Fire than re-listening to Crazy Arms, which featured on his debut album, released in 1958. It’s only after hearing Lewis perform in slower, more contemplative mood that you realise just how much Great Balls of Fire casts such a shadow over everything else he recorded. Crazy Arms is pleasant, but pedestrian and, for the moment, if I want piano shuffle, I’ll stick with Fats Domino.

If I ‘d been feeling vindictive, I would have included Crazy Arms simply because the opening piano figure  on it reminded me of the opening to I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do by ABBA. I’ve spent most of early April walking around, either singing that song or with it stuck in my head, so I could have chosen to make all of you suffer as well. Have a care if you click on the link… It’s too late, isn’t it? You’re already singing along to it, aren’t you?…

The reason why Peel was playing Jerry Lee Lewis was due to him seeing the TV premiere of Great Balls of Fire, a 1989 biopic about Lewis, with Dennis Quaid in the lead role, broadcast on Bank Holiday Monday. He hadn’t thought much of the film, but had praise for Quaid’s performance, and conceded that the film had been successful in doing what any good music biopic should do, namely sending him back to listen to the records. Furthermore, he had a bit of a connection to Lewis, in that he reckoned he was the first person in Liverpool to own Lewis’s debut album as he had pre-ordered and pre-paid for a copy at his local record shop.

Captain Jesus and the Sunray Dream - I’m So Dead Bored - How to define the sound on this track, or indeed on its accompanying album, All Thanks to the Lord Jesus Christ Amen?  I’d say space rock meets punk rock; with the musical emphasis on the former and the lyrical emphasis on the latter. Take a future Hawkwind frontman on bass, write songs whose titles and melodies subvert Clash/Sex Pistols tunes i.e. the aforementioned I’m So Dead Bored and the now prescient, Anarchy in the USA. Record and issue it on your own label out of Armley, Leeds and you have an album which impressed Peel due to it trying to walk its own path instead of trying to hitch itself to a current guitar scene. It sounds something of a throwback to circa 1980. My notes say that It doesn’t break any new ground for me, but it has undeniable intensity. Which is true even though it hasn’t stood up to reappraisal. 

It’s not helped by the fact that the whole album is on YouTube, and when heard in full context, I’m So Dead Bored ends up sounding like one of the least interesting tracks on the record, albeit the second half of the album falls into space rock jam tedium. Had I been coming back to hear a track like the similarly titled I’m So Depressed, I Wanna Be Me or the album’s big production number, Starship, I’d probably have been persuaded. As I say, you can decide for yourself whether you would have become one of Captain Jesus’s disciples, I’m So Dead Bored starts at 9:36.

Mortal - Psycho (Logic) - How different would this blog look if I posted about tracks as soon as I heard them? I have to ensure that there’s a lag between the period I’m writing about (May 1993) and the period I’m currently listening to (September 1993) so that there is no massive gap between postings. But if I had acted the moment I heard, then Psycho (Logic) would be on the metaphorical mixtape given that my notes call it a terrific dance track. But when I listened back to it, I started to wonder whether I was responding more to the samples of Anthony Perkins being particularly mesmeric in Psycho, than I was to the music around it. 

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a dance track, specifically because of its samples - there’s one potentially coming up in a few shows time featuring an off-mic Ronald Reagan - but, with a tinge of regret, I eventually concluded that if the Perkins samples weren’t included, I may not have even noticed the track in the first place. If you are looking for further Hitchcock infused material, then you may enjoy the Bernard Hermann-esque sounds on PJ Harvey’s Man-Size Sextet, which was also broadcast on this show.

Gallon Drunk - You Should Be Ashamed - featuring Terry Edwards on saxophone. I think this probably made the initial list purely because there’s an instrumental refrain in it which reminded me of two tracks that were released after You Should Be Ashamed. Namely, If I Only Knew by Tom Jones (1994) and Amnesia by Chumbawamba (1998), both which I have a regard for which sees-saws between pleasurable amusement and outright derision. But the rest of it left me wondering what on Earth I’d seen in it given that it sounded like standard Gallon Drunk mumblerock. It struck me that You Should Be Ashamed might have sounded out of place when listened to away from its parent album, From the Heart of Town. I was able to listen the LP, which has the feel of a concept album given that the record feels like it’s set among drinkers, druggies and debauchers who are united by disgust at themselves and alienation from civilised society. However, this didn’t change my opinion on You Should Be Ashamed. The whole exercise was:

a) pointless, as I wouldn’t have had the album as a point of reference to use in 1993, and…

b) frustrating, as I finally came across some Gallon Drunk songs that I really liked*, but I won’t be able to write about them here as it doesn’t look as though Peel ever gave any of them an airing.

Full tracklisting

*The tracks were Keep Moving On, Push the Boat Out and Bedlam. Apart from a single play for the latter in September 1992, when it was released as a single, Peel passed on all three of them.

Guys and Dolls: Fishmonkeyman - What’s the World Coming To? (7 May 1993)

 

Buy this at Discogs

A word of heartfelt thanks to my benefactor, Webbie, for providing an upload for this track, which out of 24 tracks from this 7/5/93 show that made my initial list of inclusions, was the only one that wasn’t shareable. He may well have provided the very best from this show at the very last.

So, it’s late Spring/early summer 1993. And if you’re of a certain age, like me, that period of time means the first stirrings of Britpop. It was a phenomenon that was going to be the making of some bands, the destruction of others and the revitalisation of a couple of bands who were either perceived as having blown a big chance (Blur) or had been quietly toiling away for years and were finally about to be noticed (Pulp). If there had been any justice, it should have worked its restorative powers on Fishmonkeyman too.

Their story is closer to Blur’s than Pulp’s given they had spent 1990 into ‘91 attracting considerable interest and radio-play with their first two singles: If I’ve Told You Once and Breathing. After signing to Warner Music UK, they recorded an album called Gryst, only to suffer an almighty slap in the face when Warners chose not to release it. After an intense year of recording, gigging and writing, this decision knocked the stuffing out of the band. Three-quarters of the personnel left and guitarist and songwriter Paul Den Heyer spent 1992 writing new material and looking for new colleagues to play with.

With a new band around him, Den Heyer and Fishmonkeyman returned with a four-track EP, Seven Monkeys Sitting in a Tree, which they released through own label, Groovey Cardboard. After the trauma of late 1991, Den Heyer was determined to just have fun on this release and the lack of pressure appears to have contributed to him writing one of the earliest unknown Britpop songs. What’s the World Coming To? features a lyric about a character, a singable chorus line, tunefully noisy guitars and, in keeping with the period 1993-95, a tremendously carefree spirit to it. 

The target of the song is a faceless government bureaucrat, but this isn’t an Ernold Same-type sneer at boring people doing boring jobs. Instead, it looks at the notion that if governments bring forward legislation that harms people, the effects of those policies are enacted by people like the subject of What’s the World Coming To?. Your mortgage has to go up? Council tax on the rise? Cuts to services? Losing your benefits?  You could be living next door to someone who has had to ensure those measures are implemented. And, depressingly, the song suggests that not only do these people not feel conflicted by it (The man with no conscience has plenty to do), but that there are more of them willing to do this than we realise (He works in your office, he lives in your street/He’s everyone that you are likely to meet.)

The song briefly tries to offer some element of McCartney-esque sympathy towards its lead character by implying that they lost something of themselves when a love affair broke up, but it doesn’t dwell on this, especially once it tells that the man is a tyrant towards his current wife and children, and that, come rain or shine, they’ll be out there waiting for the train that takes them to the job which sees them wield power over people and communities. 

If we’re looking for contemporary parallels (in 1993), while lines like He’ll stop at nothing, to get his own way/Never stops talking, has nothing to say suggest that he would have found plenty in common with Blur’s hyper efficient Colin Zeal*, the later lines in the song such as When there’s a war, he’ll be first in the line/Cutting off ears with his Swiss Army Knife suggest that their bureaucrat may have found more common cause with someone like the bigot sampled on Countryman by that evening’s Peel Session guests, Fun-Da-Mental. After all, a phrase like What’s the World Coming To? can sound like a lament in anyone’s mouth, but what they may be lamenting could have different connotations depending on who says it.

Whether they intended to or not, Fishmonkeyman caught an early whiff of the British guitar zeitgeist in this track, but it did them no good commercially, albeit Den Heyer might not have been too keen to jump back into a major label’s arms again so soon after the Gryst fiasco. This interview on Cloudberry Cake Proselytism V.3 suggests that the experience left scars he wasn’t in a hurry to expose to the music business again. The band instead signed to Copasetic Records…where history repeated itself! After releasing a couple of singles, Fishmonkeyman had an album, This Is Where You Are, recorded and set for release, but Copasetic Records couldn’t put it out due to financial problems, at which point Fishmonkeyman disbanded.

*Blur released Modern Life is Rubbish, 3 days after this Peel Show was broadcast.

Video courtesy of Webbie.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

Guys and Dolls: Oil Seed Rape - Rib Donor (7 May 1993)

 

Buy this at Discogs

Rib Donor was the first track Peel played on this 7/5/93 show and, as was generally his style, he went straight into the record without any mention of who it was by. So, as I listened to the brewing atmosphere of malevolence and the full-blooded shouts of someone haranguing an undesirable neighbour with implications that they are either a murderer or a pedophile, I found myself thinking that it sounded a little like Therapy? in one of their murder metal tracks. But it was actually the work of Gloucestershire’s Wayne Travis, aka Oil Seed Rape, who had started the project as a one-man outfit, before expanding it into a quartet.

 In this live video from November 1992, Travis introduces Rib Donor as being a song about a sweet old lady who makes us scones. A throwaway line maybe, but it conjures the image of an angry woodcutter, leading a group of forest folk to harangue the witch’s house in the weeks before Hansel and Gretel go there. (Song starts at 2:55).

Despite the thrashing and the shouting, I’ll happily concede that Rib Donor is quite a slight track to put on to the metaphorical mixtape. Ultimately, as with Slugger by Tsunami from the same show, it owes its place here to me thinking that it was someone else. There’s a case to be made that in Rib Donor, Oil Seed Rape sounded more like Therapy? than Therapy? did themselves at this time. At least, that was what I would have been feeling…

Video courtesy of planetfurball.

Guys and Dolls: Therapy? - Speedball (7 May 1993)

 

Buy this at Discogs

So, having declared myself a fan of Therapy? around the time of my 17th birthday, I did what any good bandwagon jumper would and immediately went cold on the new material, because it didn’t sound like what had grabbed my attention in the first place.  

I’d been hooked by Screamager from the Shortsharpshock EP, and I was excited to see a new EP, Face the Strange, following hard on its heels. Hell..there was even a chance that I’d actually buy this one. But when I saw them perform the lead track, Turn on Top of the Pops, I felt quite disappointed. It was a bit of a drag, which wasn’t a description I generally associated with Therapy? (from my one experience of hearing them). A recent re-listen to it showed me the error of my ways, but in the early summer of 1993, the damage was done, and I didn’t end up buying Face the Strange, because its public face wasn’t giving me what I wanted.

I wasn’t alone in this given that, after receiving an acetate of the EP, John Peel bypassed Turn and went straight to the second track, Speedball. This would have been much more like it from my point of view; full of skittering Fyfe Ewing drum patterns, thorny guitar storms and a wonderfully singable chorus line, You make me sick etc.  But, I suspect for the band, they may have regarded it as being too much like a Screamager retread, while their label would have faced pushback from radio stations who would have blanched at giving daytime radio play to a track named after a drug cocktail. Such were the compromises of major label life.

I went on telling anyone who was interested* that I was a Therapy? fan, though shamefully, I only bought one album, Semi-Detached (1998) and that was a good 20 years after it came out.  Meanwhile, Peel, after several years of airplay, bade them farewell at this point.

Video courtesy of balbees.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.

*Nobody. However, given that Therapy?’s former producer, Al Clay, went onto to produce the debut album by my favourite band of the 1990s, it feels to me that, my initial dalliance with Therapy? essentially served as the preparation for my love affair with Marion.

Guys and Dolls: PJ Harvey - Man-Size Sextet (7 May 1993)

 

Buy this at Discogs

While preparing this blogpost, it became apparent to me that Man-Size is currently my least favourite PJ Harvey song. I’ve written previously about my dislike of a lot of the Rid of Me era tracks, and how what I struggled to engage with was the way in which they try to Americanize Polly’s style and vocals. This reaches its nadir in the closing lines of Man-Size when she sings the word gasoline with an American twang which makes me want to rip my ears off the side of my head, anytime I hear it.   

But all was not lost for Man-Size, because she gave us a second version on Rid of Me consisting only of her voice, percussion and various string instruments, which I think she may have played herself.  

Although the title Man-Size could be seen as a comment on Polly’s own sexual nature and awakening, the lyrics suggest she is playing the role of a man who is now sexually switched on and looking for something to do with his equipment: Good lord, I’m big/I’m heading on. Not to mention tangible excitement at having someone to use their equipment on: Got my girl and she’s a wow….My babe looking cool and neat/I’m pretty sure good enough to eat etc.

On Rid of Me, Man-Size Sextet is sequenced four tracks ahead of Man-Size. Stylistically, this makes sense because the vocal on Man-Size Sextet sounds far more uncertain than the one on Man-Size. Taken together with the stabbing, dissonant strings, it does an excellent job of conveying the chaos of puberty and sexual awakening. Polly wants to fuck in Man-Size Sextet, but despite the favourable conditions, s(he) is a bundle of nerves. Emotions are churning up all over the place, and although s(he) has the tools, it doesn’t sound as though s(he) knows what to do with them. I know how s(he) feels. I had my first passionate experiences with a woman in December 1993, but it took me another four years before I actually achieved anything. Nerves, excitement, tension, desire, delusion all played their part.  As the strings scream out over the repeated refrain of Man size from 1:40 to 1:52, it sounds nothing less than someone desperately trying to cross the threshold into adulthood and leave both their and the girl’s pre-sex self behind. You almost feel the pelvic thrusts between two hot groins.

The closing note shows that, together, the boy and girl have become man and woman, but Polly nails the one-eyed nature of the conquering male. They’ve made a girl into a woman, now burn that childhood version with gasoline, so that the newly made woman can service the man again, and again. Notice how the man doesn’t burn their boyhood self. Presumably this is so they can have it both ways: be serviced like a man and waited on like a child, when the mood takes them.

If we take this idea on a stage, if Man-Size Sextet relates to the virgin trying to use their new sexual awareness for the first time within a fog of nerves, then the rock version of Man-Size finds the man several months on, bullishly confident in their sexual technique, in awe of their physical development and ready to rut.

I respond to Man-Size Sextet because it speaks to where I was at the time Peel played it - all tooled up, but with nowhere to go, no-one to play with and uncertain about what I would do if I found someone. I also like it because it sounds closer to what I want from a PJ Harvey song. It’s telling that this was the only song on Rid of Me that was not produced by Steve Albini and that’s probably why Harvey sounds, to my ears at least, closer to her real self than she does on other material from this period. It also points to where she would take her music next, once Steven Vaughan and Rob Ellis - who did the string arrangements on this track - had moved on.

Video courtesy of zararity.

All lyrics are copyright of Polly Jean Harvey.

Guys and Dolls: Cell - Halo [Peel Session] (7 May 1993)

 

This session was originally broadcast on Saturday 13 February 1993, at a time when Cell were enjoying some decent exposure on Kat’s Karavan. However, this repeat marked their final appearance on a Peel show playlist.

The studio version of the third track, Everything Turns (from 7:37) has already been featured here and I’d have possibly included it on the metaphorical mixtape for reasons of completeness. Remembering how much I’d enjoyed some of Cell’s music from late ‘92/early ‘93, I was a little surprised to see that it was only the session opener, Halo, that made my list of inclusions, but having listened to the full session here, I don’t feel that I was wrong. It’s the only one of the tracks which has any kind of life and spark to it, as, in keeping with the theme of so many inclusions from this show, our narrator comes back from a period of self-reflection and decides to end a relationship that’s been causing him problems. He suspects that his lover has been cheating on him, and the projection of goodness that they show to him and the world is a false impression.

There is a second reading about Halo, which is that it’s told from the perspective of Death itself, swooping down to take away some unsuspecting person, who has been wasting their life doing nothing and in its closing lines: Get off my face/Baby, I’m not dead being utterly indifferent to protest or pleading.  Whichever interpretation is true though, Halo rocks in a way that the other tracks don’t get near. It’s not that any of them are bad per se, but they don’t really engage me.

The second track, Camera is too whiny, the final track, Stratosphere (from 11:50) tries to reach for the skies but ends up leaving the listener behind, and even Everything Turns runs the risk of being left off giving the strained vocals on it.

As the full session is available, you’ll be able to make your own decision, but for me it’s Track 1 and done.

Video courtesy of The Sidefish Report.

All lyrics are copyright of their authors.