I TAKING THE SCENIC ROUTE home irom Barrowland iollowing the recent Deacon Blue and Fairground Attraction, a Listen reviewer was conironted by what sounded like a iairly standard Glasgow Cross, Saturday night, drunken brawl. However, closer scrutiny revealed the strains oi the Fairground’s debut single, Periect, to be the subject oi the singalong (and its certainly more tuneiul than The Sash.) Even iurther scrutiny discovered the perpetrator oi this most unmelodic version oi the song to be none other than. . . the band’s AGR man. On being sighted, he was, oi course, quick to correct the misapprehension that this was a case oi overinduiging the expense account. Rather, it was a celebration oi the band’s wonderiui perlormance that night. Listen, oi course, believes implicitly in the honesty oi AGR men. I THE THlEVES, Glagow’s new pop sensations, are iinding that their iollowlng is growing rapidly enough tor a tan club. Those interested should write to Thieves Iniormation Service, PO Box 999, Glasgow G12 OSX.
I ON THEIR RETURN irom France, where they are currently working, Deacon Blue are to set about recording their new album in Glasgow, at CaVa Studios. Various producers will be used on the project- but so tar, Jon Kelly (who produced ‘Raintown’) and Warne Livesey (known ior his work on The The’s classic Heartland single) are coniirmed collaborators.
I THOSE WACKY chaps The Membranes will stop at nothing to contuse and inconvenience everyone they posibly can, to the extent oi making up non-existent venues ior their press oliicer to distribute to hapless journos as tour schedules. The band’s reasoning ior giving listings compilers grey hairs? When we hit town, they say, everyone will just know where we're playing. 'Scuse me whilel
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get my dowsing rod out. Having said that, Fat Norman’s Bad Trip Club in Bellshill isn’t such a bad name.
I JIM REID oi the Jesus and Mary Chain is a tan oi the Eurythmicsl ‘Savage is a classic album,’ guoth the ieather-trousered one. ‘They are deilnitely my iavourlte oi the current pop bands. . .’
I WATCH OUT FOR the iorthcoming single by East Kilbride band The Fauves. Called, Tortured Soul, it contains the classic opening lines: ‘l want to drop the atom bomb on Radio One/l get this craving every time I turn it on.’ The BBC’s attempts to censor this piece oi poetic genius are eagerly awaited.
I WHO SAYS THAT major labels are unadventurous? Their indie counterparts have a lotto answer ior too, when you consider that such huge musical talents as Kylie Minogue, Eddie Edwards, Robbie Coltrane, Rangers F.C., all have records out on indie labels. Good company tor the Smiths records that still clutter up the retarded indie charts, though . . .
I RADIO ONE LISTENERS last year voted Mary’s Prayer by Danny Wilson as their iavourlte non-Top Forty single oi last year. This perhaps help explain their decision not to play the single . during its ilrst two weeks oi re-reiease. A healthy repsect ior your audience indeed...
I WET WET WET’s debut album, Popped In Souled Out, has just notched up Its 900,000th sale.
I The Men They Couldn’t Hang: Waiting For Bonaparte (Magnet). The Men’s increasing range and depth make a lie oi the view that they’re just another post-punk band setting iootball chants to music with acoustic guitars and tiddles. Their romantic anti-hero
Imagery (‘lt’s a smuggler’s liie ior me' etc) is a bit suspect, but some oi the tunes, like the opening ‘The Crest', are excellent, and show their coniidence in coping with the expanding range and depth oi their music. They can also boast three able songwriters, no mean teat either. ‘Waiting For Bonaparte’ won’t get many plays down the Young Conservative club, but it marks the point where The Men become contenders. (Mab
I Cindytalk: In This World (Midnight Music). Two albums with the same title released simultaneously, one building on 84’s pulsing ‘Camouiiage Hearts although this time round there’s more light and shade, more piercing beauty ANO more tortured emotion. The other LP, meanwhile, really stops the traiiic -consisting mainly at iilmic pieces in an ambient vein it manages to evoke a bewildering variety oi moods. Two records which, it approached with an open mind, could cut you to the bone. (Andy Crabb)
I Beat Happening: Jamboree (53rd 8: 3rd). Beat Happening are the kind oi group you just want to tile under Wacky Americans (post-Velvets). Wiliully obscure, but not breaking any new boundaries, these Washingtonians can be, depending on the listener’s mood, either charmingly naive or irritatineg sell-indulgent. The lead singer's bass voice wavers around in a lazy Richman-type way, teetering on the most skeletal oi musical backings, whether it’s the Velvet Underground-ish ‘lndian Summer’ or the ieedback squails oi ‘The This Many Boyiriends Club’. l have very little temptation to listen to this record again.(Mab)
I All Because The Lady Loves: It You Risk Nothing (Sweet Release). Check out the photo on the sleeve: the real girls next door, the ones you see dancing round their handbags at the local hop. Bad marketing that ‘li You Risk Nothing’ is the ilrst track, as it’s abominably bad, a track that Fuzzbox would have ditched at birth. The remaining three tracks make up ior it, rather sweet, jany guitar and vocal numbers, showing that the girls' voices aren’t bad alter all. “Something Blue’ even displays what sounds like a Michelle-Shocked iniluence, giving rise to the thought that maybe she should pick this Newcastle duo as a support next tour.
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I Vazz: Pearls (CRV). Vazz have so tar Ielt this listener unimpressed, and ‘ ‘Pearls’ doesn’t sound like one oi their greatest moments; more like a good idea that got lost along the way, hung on a none-too-special bass iigure, with predictable trappings built around it. Moody, and probably very meaningiul, ‘Pearls’ ends with the leeling oi something unresolved hanging in the air. I would say it‘s a B-side, but it’s on the B-side as well.
I Ava-8: Is This The End? (Avo). Can’t get over how much this sounds (probably coincidentally) like the Shop Assistants. Still, it‘s got the kind oi disposable charm that three-minute pop songs tend to carry with them, even it much oi it seems to have been time-warped irom the era when brats at school used to go up to people and asthmatically ask, with as much menace as their little voices could muster, ‘Are you into Punk or New Wave?’ This is deilnitely the latter.
I The Jesus and Mary Chain: Sidewalking (Blanco y Negro). T-Rex meet Duane Eddy. Paradoxically, although the iniluences are so obvious, this is quite the most glorious record the Mary Chain have released ior ages. Were any at those somnambulent post-‘Honey’ ballads worth crossing the room ior?
I Raymonde: Stop Kicking My Heart Around (Blue Guitar). Raymonde’s singer, James Maker, used to be The Smiths' stage dancer, and sounds like he’s never listened to anyone but Morrlssey since. Just listen (or don’t) to the line ‘You’re just not big enough- baby!’ and the pseudo-Man outro. An embarassment.
I The Cross: Heaven For Everyone (Virgin). My only reaction to The Cross’s debut LP was revulsion that such cock-rock could be perpetuatued in this day and age as something new and exciting. But old Rog Taylor has turned the tables on us by producing a ballad which is actually awiully nice. Kind ot a Jekyll and Hyde character, old Rog. Not only did he write Oueen‘s very palatable ‘A Kind oi Magic’, but also the bariy ‘Radlo Ga-Ga’. A case ior observation, in other words.
I Gene and Jim Are Into Shakes: Shake (Rough Trade). What would we do without samplers? It sounds like Gene and Jim use real instruments (trombone and guitar) to spice up the samples Instead oi the other way around. It’s okay, but no cigar. (Mab)
34 The List 15 — 28 April 1988