Inside Moves - The Man With The Child In His Eyes/ I Wish

Label: The Brothers Organisation
Year of Release: 1992

I blame Candy Flip. For a brief period in the early nineties, following the soaraway success of their indie-dance cover of The Beatles "Strawberry Fields Forever", swinging dance cover versions of established classic tunes became a relatively common proposition. Some were enchanting, most were just awful, and some neither offended nor delighted, but were definitely odd talking points.

This cover of Kate Bush's "The Man With The Child In His Eyes" by Inside Moves - a group who didn't appear to go on to record any other work - is an unexpected find. It's true to say that "Cloudbusting" was sampled heavily by Utah Saints for "Something Good", so Bush had already had one excursion on to the dancefloor, but this is actually a straight, soulful reinterpretation of her work. It slips and slides down its own smooth and tranquil Ibiza path with its puffing flutes, exquisitely delivered vocals and triad piano lines. It's clearly primed for chill-out compilations, and it does actually work incredibly well within that genre - but seems to have largely slipped out unnoticed at the time, and certainly isn't played at all now.

I have no information on who Inside Moves were, but if their movements were typical of many of the dance producers and performers of this period, they probably naffed off somewhere else to work on another project under another name once this had flopped.

Reupload - Fresh Air - It Takes Too Long/ Here Comes Summer

Label: Philips
Year of Release: 1972

And just in case you thought that absolutely all the top drawer sixties influenced pop had been compiled somewhere by someone, here's yet another discarded piece of vinyl which is utterly under-valued on the collector's market.

In fairness, "It Takes Too Long" isn't quite the obscurity that you might first suspect. It's had a fairly high profile internet airing already on the seventies obsessed "Purepop" blog, and a quick google reveals quite a bit of cyber-chatter about it elsewhere too.  It appears on the surface to be something of a loved record amongst aficionados of the obscure (including me) but nobody can ever get past the first paragraph without mentioning George Harrison, for the pure and simple reason that the A-side is a shameless imitation of everyone's favourite lentil curry eating Fab.  Coming across slightly like Chris Bell copping a few riffs from "My Sweet Lord", it's what might have been produced in the soundlabs at Creation Records had Teenage Fanclub spent their time ripping off The Beatles rather than Oasis.  This is absolutely no bad thing, but it's not difficult to see why the public rejected this record in 1972, a mere two years after Harrison issued the single this appears to be aping.  It's a case of too much nineties post-modernism far too soon.  That's a shame in a way, because "It Takes Too Long" has some gorgeous whining guitar fretwork, close vocal harmonies which would elate even the most cynical soul, and a slow, steady build which means the simplicity of the melody itself never grows tiresome.  It's a gentle, charming piece of pop which wears its influences very closely on its sleeve, but seems more affectionate, warm and considered than cheeky.

The B-side "Here Comes Summer" does plough its own furrow more successfully, being a close harmony piece of acoustic season pondering, but is unfortunately a lot less interesting as a result, being a breezy, tranquil affair without much of a chorus.

Fresh Air are something of an enigma as well, given that no particular source can agree definitively on whether this lot are the same band who released the Rubble-compiled "Running Wild" in 1969.  Given the complete difference in style, vocals, and record labels, and the length of the gaps between each single released, I'd be tempted to nix any suggestions that the performers are the same.  Bam Caruso suggested in their liner notes that the band name Fresh Air might have been owned by a music business svengali placing their tunes with whichever session musicians would take them, but in that case the songwriting and production credits do not align in a convincing way (although I have no access to the label information for the third release under that name, "Bye Bye Jane").  If anyone knows the truth about this band, or indeed any band at all operating under this moniker, I'm sure a lot of collectors would be relieved if you could pass on the information.

In the meantime, just enjoy a record which sounds as if it might have been a summer smash in another dimension.

[This blog entry was originally uploaded in June 2011. Since then, I managed to locate another Fresh Air single, "In The Sun", which definitely involves the same individuals as this release. We're still no closer to unveiling the identity of the band, though.]

Trevor Burton - Fight For My Country/ Janie Slow Down

Label: Wizard

Year of Release: 1971/72

After Trevor Burton left The Move, he had huge plans for his future. Not for him the usual course of putting an advert in Melody Maker for musicians and waiting for the results - on the contrary, he wanted to tap into the much in-vogue (at the time) practice of forming a supergroup of respected and talented musicians.

The ridiculously named Balls were born, consisting of Brummie wunderkinds like Steve Gibbons of The Uglys, Richard Tandy (later of ELO), and Denny Laine from The Moody Blues. In truth, the formation of the group was muddy, complicated and fraught with difficulties and intense arguments. A revolving doors policy appeared to be in operation, and describing the personnel coherently here would be a task and a half. If you're really interested, the excellent Brum Beat website has patched together a very patient and detailed overview of their history here.

During the chaos of rehearsals and recording, it would seem that only one usable piece of work emerged, and that was this single, which consisted of Burton, Steve Gibbons and Denny Laine. Originally released under the group's name Balls in January 1971, it failed to sell, and was subsequently reissued as an edited version in 1972 under Trevor Burton's name. That also flopped, and the track was then reissued again on Birds Nest Records in 1975 under the name B L and G (with the track retitled as "Live In The Mountains"), where it also did precisely nothing. After that point, clearly everyone involved simply gave up.

I suspect the single's sales chances were harmed by the fact that it only appeared an entire year after Balls ceased to exist, but it's not hard to hear why many people felt the track had enormous potential. Strident, cocksure, anthemic and unusual, the buzzing analogue synths spin throughout the track like helicopter rotary blades while Burton and the boys build a naive but relatable anti-military message over the top. "Why don't we all go and live in the mountains?" Burton roars, and far from being the usual pile of old hoary supergroup mush, this actually sounds like psychedelic Brum beat crossed with early electronica and glam - a squidgy, messy soup of ideas taking place on the cusp of two decades which shouldn't really work, but does so brilliantly. I'd be willing to bet that at least one member of the Super Furry Animals likes this one...

After Balls petered out, Steve Gibbons went off to form The Steve Gibbons Band, and Denny Laine enjoyed colossal success with Paul McCartney in Wings, co-authoring "Mull of Kintyre" in the process. To my ears, both sides of this record are preferable to that bagpipe festooned anthem, but your feelings may differ.

Giggles - Reaching Out/ Street Dancer

Label: EMI

Year of Release: 1977

When writing about music, there's a temptation to apply strict chapter headings to certain eras and movements, but things are seldom that simple. As late as 1979 Racey were tearing up the charts with the none-more-RAK offering "Some Girls", producing a sound that owed a bigger debt to Mud than The Clash. While that offering is a particularly peculiar anomaly, the late seventies were riddled with rock offerings that could have easily been issued three or four years ahead of their debut.

"Reaching Out" by Giggles in one such effort. Chugging along and pouting defiantly, putting on a Jagger sneer for anyone who dares approach, it's tinseltown rock and roll with a bit of attitude. Occupying the uncomfortable middle ground between The Faces and Hello, it has a definite swagger lacking in many of the singles of the time. 

My wife has voiced her uneasiness with the lyrical content, stating that the track belongs among the grand canon of what she calls "Sex Pest Rock and Roll". While the lyrics definitely do seem to state "Reaching out and touching you - ooh, touch touch! Ooooh, touch touch!" I'm confident that the band are talking about touring and bringing their sounds to fresh, new audiences, and all the excitement and enriching experiences such endeavours can bring. However, if you want to imagine a rocker running around interfering with ladies in a nightclub while this song plays, that's entirely your own choice. Since Benny Hill died, we've all had to use our imaginations, after all.

Giggles produced a number of singles in the seventies before morphing into the rather more New Wave act The Giants, who signed to RCA. Given their relatively long career, they should be easy to trace online - but they really aren't. It's impossible to find line-up details anywhere, with even the trusty old tome "Tapestry of Delights" turning up nothing. If you know more, please do pass on the information.

Alpha Beta - Space Invaders/ Innocent

Label: Magnet
Year of Release: 1979

The earliest days of proper arcade games - and by "proper" I mean modern ones that didn't involve shooting ducks with water pistols or trying to win stuffed toys with rigged mechanical grabbing devices - inspired rabid enthusiasm from most people under the age of 30. Space Invaders was the Grandaddy of an entire art form, and while it would be wrong to state that it invented the modern gaming industry as we know it (Pong and Breakout were both forerunners) it nonetheless captured the imagination of the general public far more than anything before. Breakout was a very abstract game which was hugely enjoyable in its day, but lacked any kind of scenario to capture the player's imagination. Space Invaders, on the other hand, tapped into the twisted dreams of the most paranoid believer in space aliens and made a Hollywood blockbuster story come to life on a video screen. It invented the sense that the player was part of a peculiar future world much larger than the game itself, blasting away at spacecraft in some apocalyptic scenario.

That's probably a good reason why at least two records called "Space Invaders" were made in the seventies, Player 1's electro-disco offering and Alpha Beta's rather more subdued, spacey synth-pop affair. Not only did the phenomenon come with its own story attached, making it lyrically adaptable, it also came with a metronomic and menacing electronic soundtrack which obviously made the idea very adaptable to a post-Kraftwerk pop landscape.

Alpha Beta's effort may seem like a faintly silly cash-in by present-day standards, but there's actually an ambient moodiness surrounding the entire thing that's immediately compelling. A novelty record in the purest sense would hammer home lots of silly melodic catchphrases and knowing in-jokes - Alpha Beta simply take the concept of the video game, transplant it into a vague, misty storyline, and give it plenty of space to breathe. Unlike a lot of early synth-pop, "Space Invaders" is neither overly arty or irritatingly bouncy - rather, it slowly oozes its way into the listener's head, sounding dreamlike in the process.

Despite the market for all things Space Invaders at the point of its release, it wasn't a big seller, and interestingly Player 1's effort didn't really have much traction away from the dancefloor either. That didn't stop other musicians and session folk from trying their hand at arcade game cash-ins, though. By the time Pac Man arrived on the scene, a plethora of tunes emerged, and Buckner and Garcia were daft enough to release an entire LP of songs about arcade games - but perhaps that's another story for another day.

I'm assuming that the Pete L Smith credited on this record is Alpha Beta, by the way, and that it wasn't a proper group as such. However, I have no idea what else he did, or where he came from. If anyone has any further information, please let me know.