The Close Lobsters sound remarkably like Subway Sect at one or other early part of their career, and one's immediate thought is why? Why revive a cul-de-sac?
Still at least they are trying. No such commendation can go to The Soup Dragons. They sing pleasant songs, play loud guitars and their singer sounds like Pete Shelly. They get reviewed in cliches because they sing cliches. When they eventually grow up (on their time scale, that should be when they reach 45) they'll perform faithful versions of Flag Of Convenience songs.
And then The Shop Assistants. They continue to drag themselves down by performing Ramones parodies. Back and forth the chord shapes, go, little sketches of tunes mumbling along with them. Why they waste their time with these songs is beyond me. Actually it isn't beyond me, because for all their abilities, The Shop Assistants still subscribe to this horrid music-is-guitars, wasn't 1978 a wonderful school of though?
Beyond that, however there are good things about them. Alex projects personality and presence and all those sort of things, as opposed to just standing there and using nasty trousers as a statement. Their 'Train From Kansas City' is not performed as a touchstone, a cred point, but with some kind of understanding of the song. 'Somewhere In China' has ambience, atmosphere, could have been 'Taking On Tiger Mountain By Strategy' and is a use of the guitar medium that goes beyond thrashing limitations. And I Like the amateurish sentiments of 'All That Ever mattered' even though it is rendered as a vague chug. The Shop Assistants have claims to adulthood; I imagine they are happy in their work, but I can only pray that they get fed up of chugging soon.
Tuesday
McCarthy surprised us. Having already burdened us with the weakest track on the C86 cassette, they ignored the pointer of it's wimp pop and proceeded to display a fine strain of puritanical '79 Factory-ish rock, seasoned with chopped guitars, sliced drumming and vocals reminiscent of a male Virginia Astley (if but for the clarity of tone). Nervous and hence distant on a stage that dwarfed them, McCarthy handled their craftsmanship with care. No nonsense, no messing, mere beauty, straightlaced engine division. The new single 'Red Sleeping beauty' - no sweat (literally).
Miaow have a VOICE in Cath Carroll. Gently hiccupping, lifting, warmly cajoling - the voice exceeds the framework (in tempis: Annette Peacock), stepping to one side of the quirkily (ignore the overuse) structured songs, never better when non-lyrical. The music, a jilting twangg!, an easy vibrating noise which can occasionally wear a little, caught the attention pleasantly enough before side tracking itself again, acting as an adequate vehicle for the hidden intricacies in the VOICE. promising.
The Wolfhounds - from the drunken lurch of a singer too caring to stand straight to the last gangly head bent in concentration over a battled embittered guitar - were the band of the night. The Wolfhounds, fuelled by exhilaration, disgust, necessity and anger, tore apart the gaping chasm in front of them and filled it with a heady anti-rock brew at frustration of their own concoction. Jarring, battering melodies tossed asunder on the storm of bantering vocals. In all the nights that followed The Wolfhounds were only bettered by an AWESOME Age Of Chance. The hacks disagree, the kids understand (two encores and hungry for more)...who am I to argue?
After such a performance The Bodines, hampered by an awful sound and desultory set, paled into an anaemic blur. 'Therese' stood out, but for the rest of the set you were left wondering how a band that could produce such a memorable single could be so singularly unremarkable. Maybe it was the unsympathetic sound which muffled the vocals, but it was a sorry finish to an otherwise fascinating Tuesday.
Wednesday
An excellent showcase was inevitably overshadowed by the week's Big Event. No, not the fairytale inbreeding of Ms Shergar Ferguson and her charming prince, I'm talking about Trouble Funk. Openers The Servants have already made one fine record and will make more. For now, however, their live incarnation requires an act of faith; you have to believe that David Westlake's edgy songs will, through either familiarity or longer sets, overcome an inevitable lack of crash-bang-wallop instant impact. As it was, their playing - grittier and more confident than the limpid beauty of their 'She's Always Hiding' debut promised - never filtered much beyond the stage. Another act of faith; better to come.
Primal Scream - now a mere six piece; one red shirt, the rest black - cantered through a set that may well have been their best yet (three words from front fringe Bobby Gillespie equals 'Triumph'), but only flared into real blindingness with it's concluding 90 seconds. But what a finale! 'Velocity Girl' is Gillespies certificate of sanity, his proferred proof that he may not, after all, turn out to be the Pete Best of the '80's.
And between the two The Wedding Present - velocity boys, acceleration addicts, hooked on hurtling - were a revelation. Given that they make Husker Du sound like the Swans on Mogadon, the wheels have been known to come of their set, rendering them a horrid nerveshred din. But tonight their blur of guitars - even the psysiology-defying middle three's (no time for eights!) - were a note perfect as they'd wish; ie, not exactly. fast (what else?), furious (wankers in the crowd), and very, very funny, their 20 minutes were breakneck brilliant, and their 15 minutes cannot be far away.
Thursday
THE AGE Of Chance suck the salt from Prince's 'Kiss', and it's tastier than you think. For to take that very black dance classic and re-present it here to total acclaim in an arena choked by ridiculous notions of what's hot and what's not, is some coup by my count. Similarly, their maced-up 'Disco Inferno', unlike the proverbial brown shoes, makes it, even though that one didn't have clout in the first place. The AOC kill it and kill it again.
The C86 is tape salad tonight. The Mackenzies coil each successive discordancy tighter round their own necks, and we are left with a pile of non-songs wrapped in rules of their own making. The drummer was fine, but I advise listening to more than the first ten seconds of 'Marquis Cha Cha'.
Bogshed played last, and Phil's bow-tie was welcome in an ocean of conformity (the AOC exempted). But beyond the fact that they seem like cheery chaps just about making a living with their monochrome chips 'n' gravy humour, nothing will convince that they are flavoursome and exciting, a combination of wit and rivvum. As it is, Bogshed need to step on something, for they are an arid people's choice. And accuse not, for I did not build them.
NEWSFLASH: Day six of the Tour De France, and the four AOC designer-pedal-togged beats whizzing out in front collide with...Detroit??? Hitsville is closed. The quartet chuck their bikes into Lake Michigan and write home...
'Be Fat, Be Clean, Be Cheap', 'The Dollar Replaces The Girl in How The West Was Won'; the AOC are fast and mouthy, a diamond stylus stuck fast, but still too sharp for this evening's groove. Their quick, cleankill is convincing, and, in light of 'Some Candy Talking', they would have been back in the saddle and looking for a way in before this week was even finished.
Ride on, and bon chance! We may never meet again.
Friday
A GAWKY collection of specs, shorts and checked shirts, Mosely quintet Mighty Mighty looked primed for the last train to wimpsville. But, while they hardly ooze stage chrisma, they are certainly a name to note. Responsible already for a beguiling debut single in 'Everybody Knows The Monkey', they have now unleashed a summer song of anthemic proportions in the sparkling 'Is There Anyone Out There?'.
With the writing emphasis on well-crafted, bittersweet pop song, the lovelorn Mighties seem to be stalking through the same jungle of jangle as early Orange Juice and Everything But The Girl. But, while there are also some distinct and unavoidable musical debts to the boy Collins, Mighty Mighty have added a sonic sheen of their own.
You can here it in the African highlife guitar in 'Law' and gain in the gently swaying, soulful guise that the Vox organ lends to the pristine 'You're On My Mind'. And On the strength of their 15 song ICA soiree you could be hearing more of it in the months to come.
The original and archetypal 'anorak' band the deceptively languid Pastels are the elder statesman of the C86 package. Three boys playing guitars, a Carmen Miranda lookalike on occasional backing shrieks and - like The Shop Assistants and Age Of Chance - a female member in that last bastion of male rock chauvinism, the drummer's stool.
The Pastels have a dense, metallic core that inevitably threw up a number of comparisons with The Velvet Underground. They whip up sufficient surly fires at times, particularly on the churning 'Truck, Train, Tractor' single, but often bury some fair songs in too much muddied a song mix.
Initially dogged by sound problems and swathed in a crazy psychedelic backdrop, The Mighty Lemon Drops still cranked up some gold chords with a buzzing vitality that must number them among the most optimistic, uplifting and danceable Men In Black in the history of pop.
After nearly a year of playing basically the same tunes, they have suddenly been smitten by a burst of creative activity, introducing five new songs that give their set better texture and syncopation without straying too far from the instantly recognisable taste of Lemon sorbet. Ending on the forthcoming single 'Other Side Of You' single, they showed quite that this is just the start.
Hey Mighty Mighty! Hey Pastels! Hey Lemon Drops! Can we take it to the bridge.
Photos
(1) Alex Shop Assistant (2) McCarthy (3) Miaow's Cath Carroll (4) The Wolfhounds Dave Callahan
Note: This article was originally printed in the NME 1986 and was originally written by Dave Quantick, The Legend!, Danny Kelly, David Swift and Adrian Thrills. All words and spellings are the authors and not mine! Photos by Kenji Kubo. Should any copyright holders object to the repeating of this article contact me in the first instance and the offending parts will be removed.
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