C.T.A.-102 - More Strangers (In The Cave Again)/ A Thousand Days

Label: Gale

Year of Release: 1980

Paul Carman was an unlucky chap, recording a lot of music in the seventies under the "Dolphin" moniker (we covered his rocksteady version of "Hey Joe" some time ago) which tended to take existing hit singles and tear them apart, forcing them into new shapes and guises. When it worked, it worked unbelievably well. His smooth FM take on "Goin' Back", for example, is an interesting version which adds a small droplet of sixties trippiness to the otherwise slick hug of the mid-seventies production.

He was a perfectly good songwriter in his own right, though, as this single - issued under the strange C.T.A.-102 moniker - proves. "More Strangers (In The Cave Again)" is a shimmering, pulsing New Wave track which in places sounds like Colin Newman out of Wire being ordered to write a hit. It's another example of a performer from another era managing to adapt to the changing tide with astonishing ease, but clearly falling flat on their faces because nobody in the punk or post-punk scenes liked a "pretender" (unless they were sticking two fingers up and mucking about for their own amusement like The Strawbs). 

Fortunately, there's better news for the modern man in that a freshly mastered version of the track is available on Bandcamp for streaming and buying, and the link can be found below.

So Feww - Get Inside/ I'm Not Automatic

  

More self-released North West New Wave

Label: All For One

Year of Release: 1982

Almost exactly a year ago now we covered the mysterious North West England combo So Feww on this blog, and drew very few conclusions about their identities from their disc "Spirits High". I've often had cause to ponder the fact that the people who did vanity pressings in the seventies and eighties would have been brilliant on the Internet in the 21st Century - having multiple social media accounts, a well-organised Soundcloud site and a slick website. Getting your shit together to do this kind of thing in 1982 was so much harder than it is now and only the truly organised and savvy did it well.

But... we are where we are, and still all I actually know about the group is that the enigmatic Nick Rome was the driving force. While this was technically their third single, it's actually a re-release of their first effort on Pennine Records with the sides flipped. This time round, the subtler "Get Inside" is the main attraction over the more anthemic "I'm Not Automatic", which is an interesting way of doing things.

Sound-wise the group set out their stall in exactly the same way. This is melodic and slightly pub-rock tinted New Wave which shows an interesting range of ideas despite its lo-fi production. They clearly had a following and money to burn on their own record pressings, but neither this nor "Spirits High" pushed them into the so-called big time. 

As ever, if you know more than the sketchy outline information provided above, please get in touch.

Major Thinkers - Back In The 80's/ Farewell To The Coast

Irish New Wave via the USA

Label: Phaeton

Year of Release: 1980

The shadow the Boomtown Rats cast over everything else means that when you mention Irish New Wave - from the Republic of Ireland rather than Northern Ireland - there's barely room in anyone's heads for the other bands. You might get a few people managing to splutter out names like Radiators From Space or The Vipers, or even the occasional clever dick pointing towards U2's early work, but the spectre of His Bobness seems to chill the room.

To be fair, The Major Thinkers are an odd case in point, since they weren't even based in Ireland. The nucleus of the group consisted of Wexford performing partners Pierce Turner and Larry Kirwan, who relocated to New York in the early seventies and spent a period of time performing in folk clubs there as a duo. For this project, however, they were bolstered by members Paul J Ossala on bass and Thomas Hamlin on drums and their style took a much more fashionable turn. 

While abandoning Ireland might have caused them to become slightly more forgotten back home than they deserved, they remained signed to the Irish label Phaeton and issued their one eponymously titled LP through them in 1981, as well as this Double A sided single in 1980. 

"Back In The 80s" is another example of that absurd phenomenon of a song's lyrics asking people to think back to the melodrama of the decade before it had even got underway (The Martian Schoolgirls "Life In The 1980s" is a bird of a similar feather). Through choppy guitars, futuristic beeps and squeaks and strangulated vocals, it does sound oddly like a 2000s parody of the New Wave era from which it stemmed, the group singing about rock and roll resistance and Government assisted suicides. There are traces of the futuristic camp influence of glam throughout, proving that the jumps from one music genre to the next aren't always as clean as we'd like to believe.

Dansette Damage - 2001 and three quarters Approximately/ Must Be Love

Soulful, bluesy New Wave musings from 1980

Label: Pinnacle
Year of Release: 1980

Birmingham's Dansette Damage must surely qualify as the only punk band to have put out a single produced by Robert Plant (albeit under a pseudonym - they had to be mysterious, those punk punters wouldn't have touched a Led Zeppelin affiliated 45 with yours, mate). Only 2,500 copies of "The Only Sound/ NME" were pressed up, and it's a beefy, thuggish, stomping effort which has deservedly attracted some attention over the years, and not just for the Wolverhampton Wanderer's help.

Less has been said about their Plantless follow-up single, issued on the indie distributor Pinnacle's own label a couple of years later, and perhaps that's because stylistically it couldn't be further apart. It's a much more polished piece of moody, bluesy, strutting New Wave which combines surreal and dystopian lyrical imagery with impassioned female backing vocals. Without doing anything particularly unorthodox musically across its three-and-a-half minutes, it's an uneasy piece of work and the band (or songwriter and singer Colin Hall) have tried to point out the coincidence that the year 2001 and three quarters would, of course, be 1st September 2001, very close to 9/11. 

Personally, I think that's stretching a coincidence to breaking point and there are few signs that the group were the Nostradamuses of New Wave in the lyrics; those references to keyhole peepers, skyscrapers and jailbreakers are very trad rock indeed and could have formed part of a Thin Lizzy track. Nonetheless, despite its commercial production and dogged groove it still manages to convey a deep sense of paranoid menace without once descending into rockisms. It certainly doesn't scream "daytime radio", which is probably why it wasn't even close to being a hit.

So Feww - Spirits High/ Rainmaker and his Son

Self-released New Wave from the North West

Label: All For One

Year of Release: 1982

The oddly named So Feww - I'm sure there's a reason for the extra 'w' but it's not clear to me what it is - were clearly desperate for everyone's attention in the early eighties but have since evaporated from sight. While they threw a lot of their own personal money into putting out two vanity discs via the Oldham custom recording service Pennine Records in 1981 and 1982 it's bloody difficult to trace who was in the band and what became of them.

All that's left behind are these two cheeky, chirpy, jittery New Wave singles nodding and winking at us through our stereograms, this and the debut "I'm Not Automatic". Both are seemingly taking their cues from the likes of Squeeze and XTC, mixing accomplished pop melodies with edgier New Wave sounds.

On this 45, "Spirits High" takes the prize for its faintly moody jangle, the track seemingly willing itself and the listener out of their despondency. It's entirely in keeping with the North West indie doing the rounds at the time and wouldn't necessarily have been out of place on Zoo Records. If it's guilty of anything, it's probably ending too soon and without having completely tied up the melodic loose ends  - the song is crying out for a more dramatic finish than the sudden abrupt halt we're offered.

The Igloos - Wolf/ Octopus

 

Cuddly Toys keyboard player tampers with Syd Barrett single

Label: Fresh
Year of Release: 1980

While one of the missions of punk rock appeared to be to wipe the slate clean and dismiss all your previous rock idols, plenty of artists were given a free pass. The Who, for example, were so appreciated by The Sex Pistols that Pete Townshend actually had to demand that they move on (his aggravation seemingly caused by the glaring inconsistencies behind their stance rather than any desire not to be saddled with the burden of their love and appreciation). Syd Barrett, on the other hand, was clearly appreciated by many punks as an eccentric who walked away from rock stardom, even if this is a heavily over-simplified take on his life. The Damned wanted him to produce their first LP, and apparently Malcom McLaren also wanted him to work with The Pistols.

The Cuddly Toys were a glam inspired New Wave band from London who had evolved from the glam punk outfit Raped (*wince, sharp intake of breath*) who put out the "Pretty Paedophiles" EP (what a bunch of proto-Super Hans characters they were). The change of name to something twee and considerably less controversial didn't really change their fortunes significantly, however; they hovered around the edges of the scene never quite making any significant inroads, though as is often the case, found an appreciative cult audience in Japan.

The Igloos were really just a side-project of the group's keyboard player Billy Surgeoner, and were seemingly never created with any long-term prospects in mind. The A-side "Wolf" is a considerably more poptastic take on the track of the same name from the Cuddly Toys' debut "Guillotine Theatre" LP, with a squeaky clean but addictive hook, and the jerky, quirky stylings which were fashionable at the time. 

The flipside is, of course, a cover of Syd Barrett's "Octopus" and while it doesn't trump the original, it certainly sands it down and polishes it into an interesting enough new jewel. It's clear that Surgeoner heard the unusual time signatures and immediately suspected that the song could be fashioned into something much more contemporary sounding, and he pulls the task off very well indeed. Drum machines hiss mechanically and synths hum, and the song is translated into the kind of thing you'd hear seeping out of a strange futuristic self-playing organ at a fair. It won't replace the original on your playlist but it's one of the more interesting interpretations I've heard. You get the impression Syd might have nodded his head appreciatively at it. 

Drill - If I Could Read Your Mind/ Pretty Girls

The Gordon Lightfoot hit given a strange New Wave interpretation

Label: RCA

Year of Release: 1980

To a lot of people in the UK, Gordon Lightfoot is essentially a one-hit wonder, a Canadian curiosity whose sole chart entry "If You Could Read My Mind" occasionally gets airplay on Radio Two, or used in television soundtracks. It's a situation I've never quite got my head around. Skip across the ocean to Canada (or the USA for that matter) and he's something of a legend. Bob Dylan referred to him as the greatest folk singer of all time, and while I perhaps wouldn't stretch my praise that far, his LPs are all worth a punt, and usually turn up in the bargain bucket of your local second hand record emporium. Buy them at low prices while you still can - a record store cashier recently told me they're selling far faster than they used to. Quality and class always gets noticed in the end. 

The New Wave band Drill, who we've already featured on the blog with their single "Juliet", clearly had a certain fondness for Lightfoot, as they decided to take his sole British hit and inject it with their own inimitable style. Listening to it for the first time is a jarring experience. It's such a complete retooling of the track that it's initially barely recognisable, and you've got to give the group credit for not making this a slightly idle, angry punky facsimile. 

Drill - Juliet/ Pretty Girl

Label: RCA

Year of Release: 1979

While punk and new wave were often at opposite ends of the spectrum from British psychedelia in 1967, there's a much bigger debate to be had about some of the unacknowledged similarities too. The underground press, counter-cultural activity and the whole idea of the "kids doing it for themselves" were germane to both movements, though eyewitness accounts from 1967 often tend to dismiss that era's anarchy with the simple phrase "A bunch of rich kids pissing around with their parent's money".

Another two things both eras have in common is the fact that bands emerged, released one single or a select clutch of a few singles, then disappeared again - and a great many of the members of the groups would go on to much bigger and better things elsewhere. Take Drill, for example. The Chas Chandler managed group are barely mentioned anywhere these days, but featured the bass player and songwriter Chris Constantinou, who later went on to work with Adam Ant, Anabella Lwin, and Guy Chambers. 

Frustratingly, the details of the rest of their personnel are hard to come by, but this single is a real curiosity. The punk lovesong on the A-side "Juliet" is perhaps not the strongest offering here, being a bit 'boil in the bag punk' in places - there are only so many signposted references to "rebels" with "rings in their noses" you can take before you sigh "Yeah, we get it lads, you're those punks we've heard so much about". 

The B-side "Pretty Girls", however, is where the band get to play with the full sonic palette and end up sounding slightly akin to an XTC-less Barry Andrews doing his best nods to Eno and Talking Heads. It's essentially very yobbish, jerky New Wave, and an experience worth having.

Now, if only I could find their single with a punk cover of Gordon Lightfoot's "If I Could Read Your Mind" on the A-side, my year will be complete. 

The whereabouts of the rest of the group is not known, but Chris remains very active and is presently bass player with The Wolfmen on bass and vocals, and the punk supergroup The Mutants. 

Reupload - Orphan - Julie Isn't Julie In The Bath/ Timebombs

Label: Brilliant
Year of Release: 1983

Sometimes a record catches my eye in a record store or ebay which I'm aware already has a bit of a low-level internet buzz about it. By this, I mean that a simple Google search reveals all kinds of questions about its origins or raves on internet forums, but no actual real information.

This is one such (well, I wouldn't have bothered with that opening paragraph if it weren't, not unless I was trying to be all post-modern and clever).  I must admit to being aware of its reputation but never having heard a single note of it until the needle hit the groove.  It soon became apparent what the fuss was about - this is pristine eighties pop with a distinctly post-punk and psychedelic twist.  Strict and even yet somehow quirky beats and synth splashes rub up against smooth guitar riffs, utterly peculiar lyrics (why Julie isn't Julie in the bath is never quite explained) and a faintly uneasy, film noir atmosphere.  A subtle chorus also creeps up on you more and more with each play, until the entire thing has infected your brain and won't leave.  It's unassuming to begin with, then all-consuming.  Only the squeaky synth instrumental section spoils the production values, but I suspect that probably seemed cutting edge when the song was recorded in 1981.

It would seem that Orphan formed in Birmingham at some point around 1978 or 1979, containing members Phill Dunn, Phil Campion, Pete Dunn, Phil Vickers, Keith Jones, Trevor Wigley and Steve Leighton.  They had become a solid fixture on the Birmingham gig circuit by the early eighties, and seemed to get themselves attached to the label Swoop, which was run by Lee Sound Studios in Walsall.     At least three singles ("RSVPU", "Nervous" and "Love on the Lichfield Line") slipped out on this imprint, but in the manner of most boutique labels run by recording studios, the connection failed to generate any hits for them.  It seems as if this track was then licensed to Brilliant Records in 1983 in an attempt to generate a better chance of chart action. Far from being a super major with clout, though, Brilliant was an indie distributed by Spartan, and the deserved outcome of a hit single never materialised. Also, by 1983 there's a chance that the woozy New Wave sounds on display here were starting to feel a bit dated, and had it been released in 1981 when it was actually recorded, the outcome may have been different.

However, we are where we are.  The band seems to have packed it in shortly afterwards, and Phill Dunn moved on to become a film director in Singapore, still occasionally recording music with his new psychedelic rock inspired band Roxy Rejects.

Assuming this was Orphan's last release - and I can't find anything to suggest otherwise - it would seem as if they left the music business at least having given it their best shot.

(I originally uploaded this entry in December 2013. Since then, someone has pointed out to me - quite fairly - that the "Julie" in the song is probably a cross-dresser. Lyrical mystery solved.)

Spangs - Frightened of the Night/ Safe In My Room

Label: RCA

Year of Release: 1980

Spangs are yet another band to add to the never-ending list of New Wave/ synth-pop acts who sneaked out a couple of singles early in the eighties but never released a full length LP. "Frightened of the Night" is, as its title suggests, a paranoid, wiry, edgy kind of effort, thick with a cold and foreboding atmosphere but not short on hooks. 

Released once on the independent Carno records before being picked up again by RCA, the added clout of a major label's promotion and distribution sadly did little extra for the record, and it failed to chart again. Once the follow-up "Who Invited You Anyway" was also ignored in 1981, the band were seemingly dropped and the game was over.

While Spangs might not be a name that's on the tip of anyone's tongue apart from the most hardcore New Wave collectors, some of the band's members did continue to appear on other records. Guitarist Mark Strobel and keyboard player Steve Bull joined the China Records signed The Name in the late eighties, who managed to drop two more albums into the world than Spangs.  Bass player Bernie Davis would also later go on to work with Alabama 3. 

The whereabouts of the lead vocalist Chris Spencer and drummer Dave Rice, however, are a little less clear. Discogs seems to suggest that Spencer became the frontman for American noise-rockers Unsane, but that smacks suspiciously of a database error - I strongly suspect he's an entirely different individual.

Whatever the full facts, "Frightened of the Night" is starting to pick up some attention among collectors of early eighties pop, and that's hardly surprising. Containing many of the era's melodic tropes which would later be utilised and used by the 21st Century Shoreditch cool kids with silly haircuts, it manages to be simultaneously of it's time and also faintly ahead of its time. 

Cut-Outs - D.I.Y/ We Don't Want To Hurt Ourselves/ Nearly Right

Label: EMI
Year of Release: 1979

Noel Edmonds - so much to answer for. From his cuddly patience with unpredictable children on Saturday morning TV to his frequently quite barbed japes at the expense of celebrities, Radio One DJ and TV host Edmonds straddled himself across seventies and eighties British popular culture like an immovable Blob(by). He was responsible for breaking many a hit on his widely listened to breakfast show, but it's safe to say that art-punk, DIY and new wave never really figured in his list of interests, even if he did get John Peel to host some segments on BBC TV's "Late Late Breakfast Show" (none of which had anything to do with music, before you ask).

This, then, is a truly peculiar story. One week on the Edmonds hosted "Swap Shop", it would seem that the programme found itself short of a band and in need of a replacement at very short notice. Upon realising that the assistant designer Grenville Horner had his own New Wave group Cut-Outs, a member of the crew asked him if he and his friends would mind stepping into the spotlight to fill the unexpected gap… and so it came to pass that the unsigned and almost entirely unheard of group went live on Saturday morning TV and gained themselves an interview with the jocular Noel afterwards. EMI spotted them performing "D.I.Y.", quickly booked them into the studio to get the track produced by John Leckie sharpish, and the rest is long-forgotten history. A punky anomaly on Edmonds' otherwise smooth and safe watch, and a rare, real-life example of the old Hollywood stand-by plot of "Hold on! The assistant kid can fill in for us!"

"D.I.Y." is actually slightly quirkier and more angular than you'd expect an employee of "Swap Shop" to come up with. "Brown Sauce" this isn't - rather, it's like Colin Newman out of Wire fronting a satirical approximation of Devo-styled pop, all sharp, panicked vocal delivery and staccato guitar parts. It certainly wasn't commercial enough to be a hit despite their television exposure and EMI's clout, and while the label offered them a tour supporting The Tourists to build their profile and take them to the next level, the members rejected the proposal all having day jobs to focus on.

We could deem them foolish for not grasping the opportunity, but as Grenville has subsequently gone on to work as a production designer on numerous major film productions, it would perhaps be foolish of us. The lead singer Graham Crowley is now Professor of Painting at the Royal College of Art, while the whereabouts of the guitarist John Feathers are less clear.

For leaving us this little gem in between BBC production duties and canteen breaks, however, we should salute Cut-Outs. They may never have made another record, but their one release emerged under such odd and non-punk underground circumstances that it's almost tailor-made for this blog.

Thanks to regular reader Arthur Nibble for bringing this track to my attention and causing me to seek it out. And obviously, if anyone, anywhere has video footage of their performance and the subsequent Edmonds interview, I for one would love to see it.

Orphan - Julie Isn't Julie In The Bath/ Timebombs

Label: Brilliant
Year of Release: 1983

Sometimes a record catches my eye in a record store or ebay which I'm aware already has a bit of a low-level internet buzz about it. By this, I mean that a simple Google search reveals all kinds of questions about its origins or raves on internet forums, but no actual real information.

This is one such (well, I wouldn't have bothered with that opening paragraph if it weren't, not unless I was trying to be all post-modern and clever).  I must admit to being aware of its reputation but never having heard a single note of it until the needle hit the groove.  It soon became apparent what the fuss was about - this is pristine eighties pop with a distinctly post-punk and psychedelic twist.  Strict and even yet somehow quirky beats and synth splashes rub up against smooth guitar riffs, utterly peculiar lyrics (why Julie isn't Julie in the bath is never quite explained) and a faintly uneasy, film noir atmosphere.  A subtle chorus also creeps up on you more and more with each play, until the entire thing has infected your brain and won't leave.  It's unassuming to begin with, then all-consuming.  Only the squeaky synth instrumental section spoils the production values, but I suspect that probably seemed cutting edge when the song was recorded in 1981.

It would seem that Orphan formed in Birmingham at some point around 1978 or 1979, containing members Phill Dunn, Phil Campion, Pete Dunn, Phil Vickers, Keith Jones, Trevor Wigley and Steve Leighton.  They had become a solid fixture on the Birmingham gig circuit by the early eighties, and seemed to get themselves attached to the label Swoop, which was run by Lee Sound Studios in Walsall.     At least three singles ("RSVPU", "Nervous" and "Love on the Lichfield Line") slipped out on this imprint, but in the manner of most boutique labels run by recording studios, the connection failed to generate any hits for them.  It seems as if this track was then licensed to Brilliant Records in 1983 in an attempt to generate a better chance of chart action. Far from being a super major with clout, though, Brilliant was an indie distributed by Spartan, and the deserved outcome of a hit single never materialised. Also, by 1983 there's a chance that the woozy New Wave sounds on display here were starting to feel a bit dated, and had it been released in 1981 when it was actually recorded, the outcome may have been different.

However, we are where we are.  The band seems to have packed it in shortly afterwards, and Phill Dunn moved on to become a film director in Singapore, still occasionally recording music with his new psychedelic rock inspired band Roxy Rejects.

Assuming this was Orphan's last release - and I can't find anything to suggest otherwise - it would seem as if they left the music business at least having given it their best shot.