Another track from the Black Dog Productions album, (Bytes). Close Up Over was an Ed Handley alias, and one of 3 on the LP which was credited to Close Up Over. In playing Olivine, Peel indulged in a spot of audience pleasing given that, compared to Jauqq and Caz - the two other Close Up Over tracks on the record - Olivine manages to include the dance part of Intelligent Dance Music. I’m particularly drawn towards this track because it includes more of the bicycle spoke sound that I always enjoy hearing in dance tracks. Though unlike previous examples like Date M by The Traveller or 20 Hz by Capricorn, the sound is achieved through the keyboards rather than as a percussive adornment.
Everton Blender’s career is a reminder that talent can always find a way, even if you don’t succeed first time around. After releasing a number of records in the late 70s and early to mid 80s, a lack of commercial success had seen him leave the music business and go back to working as a house painter. But, his honeyed voice had caught the ear of Garnett Silk, and that led to Blender getting signed to Star Trail. He returned to recording and performing in the early 90s and Create a Sound would act as the starting track on his first album, Lift Up Your Head, which even made some British charts in 1994.
Create a Sound acknowledges that this a second chance for Blender, one that he’s surprised and relieved to have been given. He’s spent many days working through the slog of painting houses, and it sounds as though some of those jobs were in pretty rough neighbourhoods, so now he’s going to relish the chance to do what he most wants to do:
In the same way that we like to wish that MPs had experience of the world before going into politics, so Blender assures us that his working background and experience will inform the music he makes and keep him grounded if he becomes successful:
The longer you live, the more you learn.
The harder you work, I know you will earn.
The heights I reach, I will surely keep.
The Lord is the shepherd and I am the sheep.
I wish he had kept this narrative going, as the track eventually moves into standard reggae semi-religious homilies i.e. A happy father is the result of a wise son etc, but I suppose he worried that to keep singing about his new opportunity risked showing a lack of humility. There’s a likably amusing section in which Blender suggests that having avoided being harmed by the criminals in the neighbourhoods he worked in due to good fortune or pure front, that his music will now have the effect of turning them from crime, which seems a far bigger boast than any of those stated at the start of the track. Might it be worth playing some of his music in the Donbas?
Lyrics copyright of Everton Williams (Blender)
Video courtesy of Reggae Nineties (and early 2000s).
I never like to speculate on whether John Peel would have liked any record released after his death, but I really wish he’d lived long enough to hear a copy of Petra Haden Sings: The Who Sell Out, in which the violinist/mandolinist recorded an a cappella version of The Who’s 1967 concept album. It was released in February 2005, four months after his death. I’d have loved to know whether the record would have tickled or irritated him. It may also have caused him to dig into his record collection and pull out something by that dog. a Los Angeles based band that Petra was part of alongside her sister, Rachel, drummer Tony Maxwell and guitarist, Anna Waronker, who is perhaps, the third most famous music personality in her family after her father, Lenny (president of Warner Records) and her brother Joey (drummer with R.E.M., Beck and as part of the Oasis reunion tour).
For me, Petra’s violin contributions are the best thing about the eponymous double-7 inch mini album that introduced that dog. to the world. And Paid Programming is the only track that deserves being listened to more than twice. The rest of the record veers between fairly dour acoustic arrangements - albeit enlivened by some good harmony vocals - or short, sharp, punk songs written by Anna Waronker’s friend, Jenni Konner, who swapped music to work in television and later collaborated with Lena Dunham on Girls.
It’s the mood of Paid Programming which makes it stand out. With the rise of digital television, everyone in the world now has the chance to experience the American attitude to television which I remember from the 80s & 90s; namely 99 channels and nothing worth watching. America though was, and remains, very much the land of the infomercial, a set of extended commercials stretched out to full programme length, and advertising products, services, lifestyle choices etc. They tended to be broadcast on local affiliate TV stations and go out as overnight broadcasts, usually between 1am and 9am. Perfect fare for insomniacs, stoners, the lonely and depressed; aspirational viewing for those who found mainstream advertising too intimidating, noisy and shallow. Here, the sellers really had to work to build up a connection with their potential customers. It may be that if you found yourself actually watching any of these shows with your full attention, you may have cause to consider what’s happened to your life. But that dog. aren’t here to sneer, and Paid Programming does a great job of evoking a sense of how this kind of television could provide a late night comfort blanket to those who had nowhere to go out to or no need to go to bed, because they had no reason to get up early in the morning. Though, it should be said that from their relevant positions of privilege, one could well believe that Waronker and friends really would dream of strawberry whip delights as something to enjoy at their favourite coffee shop the next day.
If we consider the song from the perspective of those without an emotional, employment or financial safety net, then Paid Programming deserves to be seen as coming from the same sort of musical support network as Realize by Codeine. The curtains are drawn and the sun has gone down, but at least the television is on and maybe Richard Simmons can provide some inspiration for those unable to get off their couch for even a little exercise, while the thought of owning a vacuuming haircut machine could stand as a status symbol comparable to a new car for those down at the bottom of the pile who’ve found that, for whatever reason, they’ve let themselves go or are looking a little shabby. The dream of owning one could be the catalyst to the best night’s sleep they’ve had in ages.
When it came to the work that former members of The Undertones released through the mid/late 1980s and early 1990s, we know that while John Peel felt despairing exasperation at the records Feargal Sharkey was putting out, he was more accommodating towards the music of That Petrol Emotion, which included John and Damian O’Neill. They had featured fairly consistently on his playlists since 1985, including three Peel Sessions. Even John O’Neill’s departure from the band in 1988 hadn’t dented Peel’s willingness to play their records. But, this 7/5/93 show marked the last time in his life he would play anything by That Petrol Emotion while they were an active band*.
Catch a Fire’s appearance on the Volume Six compilation album acted as a trailer to That Petrol Emotion’s fifth and final album, Fireproof, which appears to be the only one of their albums that Peel never played anything from directly. One might have expected him to be all over the record given that it features a Jew’s harp on Catch a Fire, while Heartbeat Mosaic includes a pedal steel guitar. But, for whatever reason, it clearly wasn’t his bag.
On my first re-acquaintance with Catch a Fire, I wasn’t sure if it was mine either. There was a vein of pouting theatricality running through it, especially in Steve Mack’s vocal which I found slightly off-putting. He sounded like he was turning in an overly camp audition to be the lead singer for a Damned tribute act. However, on the second listen, I got it. Catch a Fire is what the theme song for a James Bond film written by Suede would sound like. There’s a particularly enjoyable, ascending guitar line from 2:31 to 2:52 which conjures up images of naked women dancing in Maurice Binder-inspired silhouettes, while John Barry’s orchestra provide underpinning support. Taken on those terms, I was able to enjoy Catch a Fire much more. It’s just a shame that by the time the James Bond films resumed production in 1994, after a four year legal battle, That Petrol Emotion had split and Catch a Fire’s authors, Ciaran McLaughlin and Raymond O’Gorman had to watch the theme song gig go to southern Ireland instead of to the North.
So, Credit to the Nation got played on the John Peel Show, a week ago, and promptly got signed to a large record label, which led to them achieving, if not quite fame and fortune, then at the very least, an opportunity to have their music put out to a much wider audience than Rugger Bugger Discs would have ever reached.
Why oh why, though could a similar benefactor not have been listening to the radio in order to lend a hand to the dance act, L-Dopa? I find it astonishing that not only did Feel Your Need not become a mainstream hit, but that none of their records ever managed to crossover into chart hits. To my ears, in the admittedly limited cross-section of their material that I’ve heard while prepping this blogpost, L-Dopa’s music landed in that perfect dance music sweet spot, in that you could enjoy them whether you were out clubbing, or had them on in the background while working. Not too frenetic, not ultra-chilled but catchy enough to avoid blandness. And Feel Your Need is the perfect embodiment of that dancefloor/shopfloor vibe.
In fairness to him, John Peel certainly tried to help push Feel Your Need over the line to mainstream success. He included it among the records he interspersed with Radio 1’s daytime playlist on his first day as cover for Jakki Brambles’s lunchtime show. He always seemed to prefer the Instrumental Mix, as that was the version he played both then and on this 7/5/93 show. It might have been a good idea for him to play the Song version of Feel Your Need to Brambles’s listeners, then we would be able to read that track’s refrain of Open up your mind as a subliminal message from Peel himself to anybody in the daytime audience whose musical tastes may have been more defensively conservative than his own.
As to why Feel Your Need wasn’t a hit, it’s possible that elements of the track may have been seen as passé in 1993, such as the shift to a mellower tempo between 2:07 and 2:32. Perhaps, those behind L-Dopa were offered the chance to put Feel Your Need out on a bigger label and turned it down. Or maybe I should stop grizzling about a hit that never was and just appreciate the fact that it exists and that it’s wonderful.
