Author: grahampk

It’s always seemed to me that Matt Johnson’s band never really fitted in with scenes and styles, but just got on with doing their, and pretty much chiefly, his thing.

I first came across the band in 1983 with the track Uncertain Smile getting a fair bit of airplay and appearing on free tape given away by weekly Sounds magazine. Their synth/dance/pop sound was not a million miles away from more commercial bands at the time, but Johnson seemed to be marking out a very different path with his lyrics.

After buying the official debut album, Soul Mining, I moved on to the deeper and darker sound of Infected. Again, the style and sound of this album was a world apart from anything else I was listening to in 1986. The opening title track has a very poppy sound combined with a typical bombastic mid 80’s production sound, which could well prevent a new listener exploring further. This track hints at the journey to come, but the descent in to a depraved, strange kind of Britain, along with stinging references to the USA, is just around the corner.

Rob helpfully recalled that this album was available with an accompanying full length video. I haven’t had the time to catch up on YouTube, but distant memories are that this was a disturbing watch.

Listening to Heartland again is a sobering experience. There are things happening again today in this country which echo the urban decay and social breakdown which Johnson was highlighting in 1986. He does a masterful trick in laying out all this angst and tension on catchy tunes with hooks that stick in your brain for weeks afterwards. “over the mountain tops we go, just like all the other GI Joes, EE-AY-EE-AY—-adios!”, from Sweet Bird of Truth, is still knocking around my head after 26 years!

The crazy, jazzy opening on Twilight of a Champion leads on to a final track that is no more optimistic than the rest of the album, leaving you with an image of a tortured soul with a finger on the trigger, as it were.

I expect my fellow members will trump me on this one, but I find it hard to think of a case to say to someone, “if you like XXXX, then try listening to The The’s early work”. Matt Johnson’s reputation amongst his peers, if not the record buying public, grew after this album. It’s not everyone who could find Johnny Marr wanting to join his band for the next album. I didn’t stay the course with The The and later albums remain a mystery to me. Though I’m pretty sure I have something to look forward to.

Rob listened: Never one to shirk a challenge. How’s this Graham? “If you like Phil Collins, then try listening to The The’s early work, because Phil Collins is shit”.

I had a few friends for whom The The was their big musical awakening. My sense is that for many of them it was also a dead end. They seemed to stick with ‘Infected’ and ‘Soul Mining’ as destinations rather than stepping stones. Maybe they were. As Graham has said, it’s hard to put your finger on why. They weren’t radically different to some of their peers but their feel was wholly removed. They were dark, sweaty, grimy, uneasy. I do recall finding myself sitting through the full length video for this album on Channel 4 one night in 1986 and being completely spooked by it, so much so that I avoided listening to the band in any great depth. So, i’m glad Graham brought ‘Infected’ this evening but, even 26 years later, it still sent a few shivers down my spine.

Nick listened: I bought a handful of The The albums several years ago when I was ravenously consuming stuff from the late 70s and 80s that seemed to have formed the backbone of taste for people a little older than me, but which I’d just missed out on by a few years: Wire, Kate Bush, Talk Talk, The Blue Nile, Echo & The Bunneymen, Talking Heads, Gang Of Four… there seemed to be a really rich vein of ‘sophisti-pop’ amongst this cohort; ambitious, eclectic, studio-based, unafraid of pop hooks or the mainstream, but not quite… Dire Straits, or Madonna. The The weren’t my favourite of this period of investigation (Talk Talk and Talking Heads probably win out there) but I did like them alot, especially Infected and Mind Bomb. I hadnt listened to them in ages, and it was great to delve back into Matt Johnson’s recognisable, but slightly weird, world.

Tom Listened: Well…I thought his voice was a dead ringer for David McComb of The Triffids but the songs are placed in a very different musical setting to those of the Australian band – The The’s songs seem to be very much about the paranoia of the here and now (or, to be more precise, the mid eighties) as opposed to the bucolic, arcadian beauty of the Australian outback of days gone past.

I remember back at the time being confused about The The….I recall being very impressed by a song called ‘Life’s What You Make It’ that must have come out around the same time as Graham’s offering and thought that I would buy the parent album, the recently released Infected (I also remember having a conversation with a girl who ‘wanted to get Infected’ at which my lovely brother immediately quipped ‘well, Tom’s your man’. How we laughed!) Well, it turns out that Infected was not by the other alliterative ‘T’ band of the 80s and whilst, like Nick, I feel there is some distance between The The and Talk Talk at their best, it was interesting to hear Infected at last and revel in those mid 80s (because it is very much a mid 80s kind of record) sounds again.

It is pretty hard to ignore Jimi Hendrix, but I managed it until 1982. I then came across a quirky American independent film called Purple Haze.

The film focussed on American teenagers in the late 60’s,Vietnam and the soundtrack of the period. The film subsequently almost disappeared from trace as a result of disputes about permissions/royalties related to the soundtrack, but I now knew about Jimi.

I have always had the inevitable greatest hits albums, which was an easy way to get hold of the recognised hits. Only recently did I decide to buy this remastered debut album and give it a go.

Remembering it is 1967 and his first album, it is simply astonishing.

It’s easy to get hung up on the unfortunate guitar histrionics side of the Hendrix legacy, but listening to this showcases the breadth of his creativity. Yes the riffs and the ‘rocking out’, are there, but so are the blues, the psychedelia, jazz and experimentation with the instrument itself. The freedom and energy of doing something new, simply jumps out of this album.

The rhythm section of Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding keep the sound structured but also find moments to show off a little themselves. The bonus tracks of the remastered album give you the additional hits like ‘Hey Joe’, ‘Purple Haze’ and ‘The Wind Cries Mary’, all rushed on to the laterUSrelease of the album.

Strange that Hendrix broke through first in theUK, but listening to this debut again, it was inevitably  only a matter of time until the US caught on.

Rob listened: We are now farther away in time from the release of ‘Are You Experienced?’ than the date of its release was from the beginning of the Great Depression. I used to have a friend called Clive Glew who looked after Hendrix duties in our house (Clive – if you’re out there get in touch!). I don’t have anything else to say that Bill Hicks doesn’t cover here:

[youtube:http://youtu.be/NXjNMbgXvzg%5D

Tom Listened: I don’t like Bill Hicks and I don’t like Jimi Hendrix.  I guess these two dislikes may be connected. I did like the long, mainly instrumental track (Third Stone From The Sun I think) at the end of the album and I was pleased Graham gave me the chance to have a proper good listen to Hendrix again (I was convinced that this would be the time it finally all clicked into place) , I just don’t find guitar pyromaniacs played over solid, if somewhat unimaginative, bass and drums to be all that interesting. Kind of my equivalent to Graham’s feelings about Sonic Youth!

Nick listened: He just played guitar better than anyone else. It’s really that simple. As discussed on the night, there may have been people since who could technically play more notes faster or do my dexterously difficult things, but they (Yngwie Malmsteen?) are not as famous as Jimi Hendrix for good reason; they play crap.

Notably in our house, Hendrix is the only of the late 60s / early 70s canonical guitar heroes that Emma can stand; Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin are both banned, and neither of us have ever even investigated Black Sabbath or Deep Purple. But Em and I both really like Hendrix, pretty much everything from all three studio albums. (For my money, Axis might be the best “cohesive unit”, but this and Ladyland have probably his mightiest peaks).

I think what’s so special about Hendrix is his rhythm play, and the sense of fun and exuberance and sensuality that comes through that. Sure, he can riff and solo and show-off with the very best, but when he just plays a tune, explores it, adds that funky (for want of a better word) edge to it, he transcends all the onanistic fretboard-tapping show-offs in the world. Which is why I think Tom’s wrong here; it’s really not about the pyrotechnics, it’s about the fun and the imagination! (I also think Mitchell and Redding are a tight, exciting, perfect rhythmic partnership for Hendrix.)

The soundtrack to my summer of 1987. If we had an outdoor, summer evening round of DRC, this would have been my choice. Would also have fitted have fitted nicely into an “earnest and worthy” theme night. Though not sure where I was actually going, this never seemed to be out of the cassette deck in the car that year.

Can’t really recall how I came about buying this album, it may have been the music press or even my desire to own everything REM (pre-Green, naturally), as Michael Stipe features on a track.

Natalie Merchant’s distinctive vocals, often restrained and occasionally soaring, carry you through this album, backed, in the main, by bright and jangly guitars. The subject matter of child abuse, alcoholism, US militarisation etc. etc. could be overbearing but is lifted by some joyful playing by the rest of the band. All that changes on the last track, where her vocals and the piano are simply beautiful. In fact, fellow members identified that Verdi Calls could well have inspired what later became Night Swimming, by REM. Generally you could categorise the sound as folk-rock/ pop-folk with the odd tinge of country. Though regarded as their best album, if I have a problem with any track it would be My Sister Rose, as the imagery of the vocals and style of playing, just doesn’t  seem to hang well with the rest of the tracks.

Given the general vibe of peace, love and tolerance to all, a wonderful irony was the later removal from US versions of the cover (and it’s a good one) of Cat Stevens’ Peace Train. This followed alleged statements from Yusef Islam about the Fatwa on Salman Rushdie.

This was the Maniac’s 2^nd album on Elektra, and as I recall (though can’t find the CD’s at present) a lighter/poppier sound than their debut, with Wishing Chair. I’m sure we had the 3^rd, Blind Man’s Zoo, knocking around as well, though I seemed to have moved on by the time the 4^th, and final album involving Merchant was released. In various forms the band are still knocking around on the live circuit to this day, though I’ve not seen/heard/looked for any more of their output.

A perfect slice of summer when  its miserable weather or you’re in feeling a little down.

Nick listened: I hate to be predictable, but this pretty much passed me by, as Rob and Tom predicted; it is jangle-pop, after all. It was very pleasant, and the lyrics seemed interesting from one DRC exposure, but I think I’ve just got a big deaf-spot when it comes to jangle-pop in general.

Tom Listened: Come on Nick, you love to be predictable!

I am quite a fan of jangle-pop but I am also well aware of how often these records can pass you by on a first listen. So, in many ways I agree with Nick but at the same time I have a feeling that I may be being unfair on In My Tribe to dismiss it after just one, curry interrupted, listen. That said, I tend to like my jangle-pop to be either a bit twisted (The Bats, The Chills) or to have a seam of wistful melancholia running through it (The Triffids, The Go-Betweens). It seems as though other per-requisites are that the band have to come from the Antipodes and have the word ‘The’ in the name…unfortunately, 10000 Maniacs fail on both counts!

Rob listened: I realised listening to ‘In My Tribe’ how I subconsciously yearn for that period in the late 80s when a group, usually from somewhere in the lower half of North America, could simply jangle away at a couple of chords for a whole album and that would be just fine. There was a weird still point there where records didn’t have to do all that much to sound sweet. I guess 10,000 Maniacs really did get stuck in that still point, not quite country, not as oblique or interesting as R.E.M., not as wracked as Throwing Muses they just sort of jangled away and everyone else moved on. I enjoyed the listen.

After getting in to a pattern of fairly dark and humourless offerings, I felt it was time to lighten up a bit.

While fellow members maybe justifiably stressed by my continually tardy write-ups, on this occasion the subject material has been at the root of the problem. With the mythology and history of the Happy Monday’s last album, subsequent break-up and bankruptcy of Factory Records, who would have predicted that Shaun Ryder and his new rabble would produce this? Moreover, who would resource him to produce anything? How much of this was a ‘happy accident’ and how much was well-planned collaboration?

Whatever happened, the results are great and on first listen this hits you straight away. Repeated listens may reveal a few more insights in to the quips and barbs in some of the lyrics, but the hooks in the first four tracks grab you instantly and demand your attention. Apart from drunken nightclub groovin’, the Mondays didn’t do much for me. Liked the singles, but didn’t get a whole lot more from listening to the albums.

I bought this after hearing the first single, Reverend Black Grape, and never looked back. The first four tracks on this album are so rich in hooks, grooves and humour (3 out of 4 were singles) that they draw you in to the more melancholy sound of the rest of the album. Not being part of the ‘scene’ at the time, I suspect that there may have been chemical product which when taken, synched perfectly with the dynamics of this album.

Looking back I don’t know why I never investigated the second and final album, but maybe they had ticked all the boxes with this release. In fact, I wouldn’t want to tarnish memories and the impact of this as a great ‘one-off’ and unexpected comeback album (bugger, should have saved this for when those were future theme nights!) More perhaps to do with belatedly discovering Talk Talk’s last 3 albums around this time and deciding to be less flippant with my listening.

Tom Listened: I really loved the Mondays. Bummed was one of those albums that was absolutely instrumental in developing my musical tastes beyond what I had heard on the radio. The Mondays on Bummed sounded vital and dangerous…unhinged even, but totally inspired and fearless at the same time. They ruled their ‘ghetto’ and were brim full of confidence. They operated outside the established order of things, set their own agenda and wrote blistering, often unsettling indie pop songs that you could kind of dance to. And for most indie kids at the time, ‘kind of dancing’ was about as good as it got. I trawled the back catalogue, got myself 24 Hour Party People and all the early EPs. They were all fantastic. This band were genius. What could possibly go wrong?

Well….Paul Oakenfold got his hands on them, did something unspeakable to Wrote for Luck, the ‘crossover’ became clunky, obvious, no longer insidious and subtle, Bez took the wrong drugs (actually, they all took the wrong drugs) and slowed his dancing down to a slothful lope. Something was definitely wrong. For me, Pills ‘n Thrills was confirmation of this…one of my biggest musical disappointments, it seemed to lack all the elements that made Bummed so amazing. I was convinced that if I listened to it enough it would suddenly make sense, but it never did and the follow up Yes Please seemed to back up that rather than being a crowning achievement, Pills ‘n Thrills was the beginning of the end.

So…Black Grape came along and I went along with it but there were too many echoes of Pills ‘n Thrills era Happy Mondays for me – the female backing vocals, the glossy production, the lack of real edge. I liked it well enough. Driving along in my car it made the journey go that bit quicker, but I always looked forward to I Should Coco on the other side of the tape. That was the great thing about tapes…it was a perfect way of truly finding out how you felt about an album. And when you started yearning for the other side (or even rewinding to get to it), I guess you knew.

Nick listened: I know this very well, and have done since it came out when I was 16; it soundtracked the summer after GCSEs, and the summer after that too, when people started having cars – it’s a good record in the car, in summer, with the windows rolled down. I like this more than any single Mondays album I know, which isn’t many of them, for the simple fact that this came out at that peak part of my adolescence, and the Mondays were active when I was a little kid, really.

As a 17 year old in 1983, the choices of new emerging talent to follow seemed endless at the time. There was also a rich seam of mainstream dross to be avoided with numerous New Romantic/Synth Pop rubbish still around. Then I heard this for the first time.

Simply put, Liz Fraser sounded and expressed herself like nothing I had heard before. The instrumentation ranged from rich and lush to sparse, and sometimes playful, from track to track. Influences of Joy Division and Siouxsie are there, but the fact I was not familiar with either of them at the time just meant this was a whole new experience.

I’d initially chosen Treasure (3^rd album) as my pick, but listening back to their 2^nd album after maybe 20 years, I was amazed how familiar it sounded and quickly recognised this as a stronger offering. There are moments of introspection sitting side by side with what I can only describe as a “wall of gothic/post punk sound” that Mr Spector might have been proud of. Soaring vocals of unrecognised meaning, given weight and emotion by Fraser’s possibly unique style. Fair enough I had a few friends that responded, “what the **** is this” when I tried to convert them at the time.

Seeing them live at the Royal Festival Hall sometime around 83/84 was a magical experience. Fraser just hypnotised the audience and their sound filled the venue perfectly.

Not as dark as their first album and less ethereal than subsequent releases, this feels like their highpoint to me. I collected all the numerous EP’s from their early days and the 4AD compilations on which they featured just to get my fix. After Treasure I began to lose interest, probably more about me looking for new influences, though the overall sound didn’t seem to going anywhere new.

Maybe a bit of “you had to be there” album, as people became freer to experiment and push boundaries as the 80s/90s progressed.

Tom Listened: I have a very vague and depressingly distant memory of seeing the Cocteau Twins on The Old Grey Whistle Test in about 1985 and thinking to myself ‘this sounds great, but I’d never get it (as in ‘purchase it’ as opposed to ‘understand it’) as it’s far too weird’. Fast forward five years, the Dire Straits, Queen and Elton John records had been ditched (possibly literally), to post Husker Du epiphany (as in ‘music that sounds great is great irrespective of whether it sounds weird or not’) and I was ready to check out the Cocteaus properly. So I did. And, during the seemingly endless Summer of 1990 my C90 of Treasure and Blue Bell Knoll rarely left my Sony Walkman (if it did it was only to be replaced by something similar – AR Kane’s 69, Kitchen’s of Distinction’s Love is Hell etc etc).

I suppose I’ll always have a soft spot for those two Cocteau Twins albums in particular, not because they are that much different to (or better than) the others but because they immediately transport me back to good times. Nostalgia is such a powerful thing and certainly obfuscates objectivity. I did have a copy of Head Over Heels but by the time I obtained it I seem to remember feeling I had all the Cocteau Twins stuff I needed and it was all pretty similar, so I didn’t really bother spending much time with it.

Listening again at DRC, I was surprised by how varied it sounded in comparison to Treasure and Blue Bell Knoll, as if Guthrie and Fraser hadn’t yet quite nailed the aesthetic and were still in the process of appropriating their influences. So you can hear echoes of Joy Division and Siouxsie and Magazine (perhaps) and other great post punk bands and for some that could be a strength but for me I think I’ll always slightly prefer the more homogeneous albums that succeeded it – or maybe I just prefer the memories they evoke!

Rob listened: I bought ‘Blue Bell Knoll’ having heard ‘Carolyn’s Fingers’ on the radio and ended up taking it back to the shop. Money was tight for a teenager and I just hadn’t found anything else in the album to get to grips with. I’ve no idea what I swapped it for, but now, having bought hundreds of albums with just one decent song, and those not a patch on ‘Carolyn’s Fingers’, I regret it. I’ve since managed to accrete copies of ‘Head Over Heels’ and ‘Victorialand’ at student second hand sales, and I thought I remembered little about them, other than that I preferred the latter’s more abstract, ambient sound (i’ve no idea if it’s either, but that’s the impression i’ve retained).

I was surprised how much of ‘Head Over Heels’ I knew and I enjoyed hearing it again. I’m afraid for me they remain a band to be admired rather than loved. There’s something a little too cold and mannered in their music. Fair enough for them, but I prefer mine more instinctive and restless. Nothing here quite matches the brio and bubbly joy of that first Cocteau’s song I really did fall for, but never managed to hang on to.

Nick listened: I’m pretty sure I own this; I certainly know Sugar Hiccup, and I bought a handful of Cocteaus Twins remasters a few years ago when Robin Guthrie redid their entire catalogue. Obviously, this isn’t the Cocteaus album I’m most familiar with – that title goes to Treasure, followed by Heaven Or Las Vegas and Victorialand, which were the three I bought at university when I was introducing myself to them – but I enjoyed hearing it again thoroughly. As we discussed on the night, no one else has ever really got near to emulating the sound the Cocteaus produced, which, even though it did get varied slightly across their albums, is always instantly identifiable and, once you’ve bought into it, gorgeously enveloping.

A loud theme opened the door to a band I had been thinking of bringing along for a while, partly to test the water on whether I was out on my own as an admirer of their work. I’m not really sure if I have a “nodding” category in my meagre collection, but the Screaming Trees would definitely fit in there. Whether in the car or at home, involuntary head movements quickly follow when this and the previous 2 albums  are played.

I think I came across this band through some kind of TV/radio documentary exploring the American Grunge scene in early 90’s. The band had been around since the mid 80’s and Dust was finally released in 1996, after a four year gap in releases and abortive attempts to record. This was their 3rd release on a major label and their 7th and final studio album. On that basis it might be expected that the band was running out of steam and the album would reflect this. What I get from Dust is an album where the band seem to be enjoying themselves, free from some constraints of what they might have been expected to produce in the past and more confident in their own abilities and willingness to expand on their previous sound. I’m still not sure if the mellotron/organ on Sworn and Broken really works, but it certainly comes in as a surprise. Listening again, they even allowed for a little guitar heroics, most of which can be sustained by the general feel of the album. Whether labeled post punk/grunge in the past, their sound developed through their last 3 albums and here they are happily embracing psychedelia/folk/country influences on many of the tracks, without losing an easy to follow “groove”, as it were.

All of this still leaves me asking why they never enjoyed the commercial success of the other bands spawned by the Seattle grunge scene? Whether they wanted it is down to them, but timing of albums and tours doesn’t seem to have been on their side, and the Connor brothers were never going be as photogenic as Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder. Whether filed under “nodding” or “earthy/dirty/grungy”, still and album and band to be enjoyed.

For an “earthy/dirty/grungy” point of reference track, I managed to sneak in Sick Again, the final song on the magnum opus that is Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffitti.

Tom Listened: Screaming Trees are one of those bands that I have always meant to check out and always thought I’d quite like, imagining from what I have read that Mark Lanegan’s voice would be rough and gravelly (akin to Tom Waits at his brawliest) and the sound of the band to be right up my street. This could still turn out to be the case but, to be honest, I don’t really remember much of Dust and I suppose that may well be a problem as I am unlikely to actively seek it out…its ten songs kind of washed over me and left little impression. Over the years some of my favourite albums have had similarly inauspicious beginnings but usually there will be something that reels me in for a second go. With Dust, surprisingly for me, that certain something seemed to be missing.

Nick listened: Conversely, I’ve had this album since shortly after it came out in late 1996, and have played it hundreds of times in the near-16-years since then. I love it; for me, it’s the platonic essence of an accomplished rock record, with strong songs, great performances, rugged vocals, terrific riffs, just enough virtuosity to make it impressive without ever verging on wanky. The sound is terrific; George Drakoulias’ production and Andy Wallace’s mixing give it a rough, hewn foundation but a smooth front edge, loads of detail but plenty of heft, too. Whenever I want loud, primal, but sophisticated rock with hints of psychedelia, folk, and blues, I reach for Dust. Play it loud.

Rob listened: I also bought ‘Dust’ when it came out, but for me it was the unacceptable waning of the fire that had started in Seattle. I loved the filthy, broken, wild blues roots of grunge. Mudhoney threatening to kick through your speakers and lick your face. Tad struggling to stave of a massive coronary whilst screaming about drowning in an upturned pick-up. Kurt taking his global success and laying it all on the line with ‘In Utero’. Amphetamine Reptile records and all the disgraceful abandon they stood, or mainly laid down, for. Then there was the other line of descent, down through Pearl Jam to Stone Temple Pilots and ultimately to Nickelback. ‘Dust’ is okay, but it belongs in that half of the family. And I’m with the freaks.

As this was a one night only opportunity to spin something a little off our normal choices, I took the opportunity to slip this one in.

Unfortunately being sandwiched in between Sunn O))) and Scott Walker was always going to be a challenge too far, even for a country rock concept album based around a real time nightmare between 4.30 and 5.11am. Even the themes of mid-life crisis, older men lusting after younger women, retreating to eco-living and the final collapse of all relationships seemed relatively jolly in comparison.

This album came out in 1984 at the end of my love affair with Pink Floyd and after the harrowing nature of the Final Cut one might have expected Roger to have lightened up a bit? Not!

The lyrics and imagery that accompany this album are so bizarre and pompous I’ve always imagined that irony was heavy at work here. After another listen I’m not quite so sure. What still attracts me to this album is some of the almost comedic transitions between songs (cue the German beer festival and the puppy sandwich). Strange thing about this album is a lot of people have probably heard good chunks of the instrumental pieces without realising. Someone at BBC drama/documentary is obviously a fan as scenes that require desolate/deserted sound imagery are often accompanied by extracts from this album. I’m no great fan of Eric Clapton but I do like what he did on this album. Supposedly this was his first sober/clean recording for 10-15 years and his country/slide playing very different from anything else that I have heard him do (not that I have heard much).

Still, the battle was lost in between my two fellow members choices!

Nick listened: You know what? This might have been the most unsettling record of the night, for me at least. And for many reasons. Partly because of my complete antipathy towards Pink Floyd, who I revisit once ever couple of years in an attempt to “get” Meddle or Wish You Were Here, but who I just find to be the cheesy, predictable, platonic-essence of “serious rock” every time. Partly because of the weird, linear-yet-dreamlike structure, which eschews refrains and repetition in favour of perpetual, yet still, somehow, predictable development – the whiff of prog, if not the instrumentation. Partly because it’s scary that there was ever a time when it was OK for a major rock star to release a concept solo album based on a dream about picking up young girls by the side of the road. Partly because of the lyrics writ throughout said record, which attempt to express said concept from multiple, fractious, dream perspectives, using only one actual voice (and thus adding to the confusion). But mostly, probably, for the sound, which just has that rich, opulent, 1970s into 1980s expensive studio rock record sheen, something perfectionist and dehumanising; real instruments that sound as if they’re played by ghosts or invisible machines or computer programs rather than by real fingers and real hands and real people. There’s something very antiseptic and unsettling about it; the polar opposite to Scott Walker or Sunn o))), and with a different effect – it doesn’t explicitly oppress you, or lull you in and physically shock you, but it does, slowly, cumulatively, insidiously, make you feel just a little bit wrong.

Tom Listened: They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but they should have added that the rule doesn’t apply to Roger Water’s albums. I agree with all Nick has written about The Pros and Cons of Hitch-hiking. I have always had a deep, possibly disproportionate, dislike of Pink Floyd and as I could hear them throughout this album I was always going to struggle with it.

I liked the fact that it wasn’t Sun O)))!

Rob listened: Genuinely terrifying.

Note to self: When suggesting theme in future, have just a little think about what options it leaves you.

Anyway, in the days after suggesting Triumphant 4^th Albums, it looked like Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden was the obvious choice from my meagre collection. Something was niggling me to look further,  when this album occurred to me.  Back in 1981 when this was released,  I chose to ignore Siouxsie and the Banshees as post-punk art school nonsense. I was far too busy trying to decide whether to commit myself to the worlds of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and even Heavy Metal (15 year-olds deserve forgiveness for their musical sins). Probably around the same time in the mid-90s that I rediscovered Talk Talk, I began listening to some Siouxsie and the Banshees greatest hits and discovered most of the songs I really liked were on this album.

The imagery of the band in the early 80’s served as a deterrent to me, but listening to this album again reminds me of what I missed. If you want to dip in, just listen to Spellbound, Arabian Nights and Monitor (my favourite on the album).  Of course, I was unaware at the time of how celebrated John McGeoch’s guitar work on this album would become. The album has a grittier, harder and edgier nature than my image of the Banshees at the time, and the prominence and confidence of Budgie’s percussion and drums really comes through. The band’s reconstituted and more settled line up really shine through on this critically acclaimed fourth album (from wiki, so it must be true: In 1995, Melody Maker placed Juju as “one of the most influential British albums of all time”.  In 2006, Mojo honoured John McGeoch by rating him in their list of 100 Greatest Guitarists Of All Time for his work on “Spellbound“) .

It was postulated that while the imagery of the Banshees may have deterred some deserved attention at time of release, it was also possible that their back catalogue can unfortunately get sidelined with some of the less well regarded Goth rock that this album (possibly unfortunately)  may have inspired.  I’m not sure how much more I’ll investigate their back catalogue, but for me, this album seems like a peak (well with the exception of last track which doesn’t appear to fit with the rest of the sound!).

Tom Listened: Well, once again I had my preconceptions and prejudices challenged by a band that I had made my mind up on long ago.

1980 to 1983 was a lost period for me musically as I was living in the South Pacific at the time. Far from being a cultural vacuum, the Solomon Islands Broadcasting Cooperation played wonderful music every night…but not that much by Siouxsie and the Banshees! On returning to Blighty it seemed as though the majority of the more lauded bands of the time (Simple Minds, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran, Adam and the Ants) were past their best, releasing records that to my ears made me doubt they were any good in the first place. The first I would have heard of The Banshees was their horrible cover of one of my favourite songs by my favourite band at the time – Dear Prudence, of course. My mind was quickly made up – there was no way back in for Siouxsie after that!

At least, until Graham played us Juju. I really liked many of the songs on this album and John McGeoch’s guitar work is, as always, outstanding (calling to mind his work on Magazine’s wonderful Real Life). During the listen, I almost found myself forgiving Siouxsie for her past indiscretions…but not quite. The one thing that got in the way of my fully enjoying Juju was not the quality of the songs, the songwriting or the musicianship. I just can’t get past Siouxsie’s seriousness, her sombre earnestness and lack of warmth and humour. I have no idea if she takes herself seriously as a person, but it certainly seems like it if Juju is anything to go by, and it is a shame as I could easily have seen myself liking this as much as Real Life if Siouxsie had shared Howard Devoto’s playful impishness and twinkle of the eye.

Nick listened: Siouxsie and her colleagues are a complete musical black hole to me; theirs are names I know well, but up until Graham pressed play I didn’t really have an idea of what they might sound like. The fact that I was only born on 1979 might have something to do with this – and while I’m sure I must have heard something by Siouxsie and the Banshees at some point, I’ve never listened to them. So this was a pleasant surprise; thoroughly engaging, driven, and impassioned post-punk, lashed with interesting guitar textures and underpinned by a tight (if a little over-direct) rhythm section.

As Tom suggests, though, there’s a certain earnestness and seriousness to Siouxsie herself, at least on first contact, and whilst I have a sneaking suspicion that this would dissolve into the ether on repeated exposure, there’s just enough to keep me feeling stand-offish about her. The other album we’ve been played at DRC featuring drummer Budgie (Cut by The Slits) had an airiness and sense of fun that attracted me far more than this. Saying that, I was kept interested pretty much the whole way through, and heard a lot to admire here. Including the last track, which seemed to catch everyone else off-guard; was it not just common-or-garden final-song psychedelic wig-out territory?

Rob listened: Siouxsie and the Banshees leave a fairly well-defined hole in my collection. I went big for many of not all of bands immediately adjoining them: The Cure, PiL, Echo and the Bunnymen and was not at all averse to taking myself way too seriously in the early-mid 80s. Nonetheless, I think like Tom, I was always slightly repelled by Siouxsie’s voice which seemed to carry such artifice as to make the emotional core of their music all but impenetrable for me and I steered well clear of them. I liked the sound of the record, particularly the razor-wire guitars, and the voice seemed less of an issue. Glad finally to get the chance to become properly acquainted.

Can’t remember what led me to this debut album in 1990, but it was certainly nothing like anything else I was listening to at the time. In fact when I look back at what I was mainly listening to then, I really needed to broaden my horizons!

Anyway, I came to this album with no knowledge of the Paisley Underground scene in California and the band’s beginnings in the form of Opal. I thought this record was astonishing and although it seems to have been reasonably warmly received at the time, I always felt it deserved greater credit. The wonderfully dreamy and
haunting sound of both vocals and playing made a big impact on me. From my own
collection I could identify the Velvet Underground and Doors references, along
with a sound I could only describe as a sort of Jesus and Mary Chain ‘lite’.
Researching the band now led me to discover Hope Sandoval’s later musical and
personal involvement with the Reid brothers.

The addition of folky/alternative country influences made
this a distinctive overall sound for its time. There are some Doorish
‘noodling’ moments on the album (particularly on the title track) but that
aside I wonder if this has been released within the last 10 years the impact
might have been different? Maybe the world would have been more interested and
accepting of such a crossover sound and less reliant on some of the boundaries
of the categories that applied at the time.

I never followed the band further with their other 2 albums
in 1993 and 1996, but have now caught up with them. The sound doesn’t move on
very much at all, but they still deserve a listen. Bizarrely, “Into Dust” from
the 2nd album, now features on the current tv adverts for “Gears of
War 3” (whatever that is!).

Nick listened: I’m very vaguely aware of Mazzy Star, familiar with their reputation and aesthetic if not their songs, particularly. Emma owns So Tonight That I Might See, and I’ve heard it a number of times but never really chosen to put it on myself. I’m also familiar with Hope Sandoval’s vocals from appearances of other people’s records, primarily Massive Attack’s (last?) album. This was lovely; more purely country than I would have thought, but also sparse, dreamy, and exploratory at points, too – the tracks that remind Graham of The Doors remind me of really early Verve b-sides. Different frames of reference! TI really enjoyed this, and it’s on the longlist of records to buy.

Tom Listened: I own She Hangs Brightly and knew it well at the time of its release. I probably haven’t listened to it in the last 15 years though! Upon re-acquaintance I was struck at how simplistic much of the record sounded, how these days a record such as this would no doubt be embellished to the hilt, adorned with strings and keyboards and choirs and the like. But, then, if you have a voice as pure and astonishing as Hope Sandoval’s (sounding like an ‘even more heavenly than Dolly Parton’ Dolly Parton on this record) in your armour, is there any need for additional extras? Well, I was left undecided, feeling that about half of the album was nigh on perfect, the other half sounded slightly under-developed…almost as though a  few strummed chords and a half-decent melody was felt to be enough when sung by Ms Sandoval. I’m not sure it was.

Rob listened: Not under-appreciated by me! This record was a turning point in my musical development. Tom’s brother gave it to me on a tape with ‘The Velvet Underground’ on the other side. It took a while, but I fell in love with the hazy perfection of ‘Halah’ and that led me down dreamy roads to Low, Lambchop, Bonnie Prince Billy etc etc. I may have found my way there without Hope and Dave, but it would have taken years longer. I still have the photos Ben took of the band when we saw them play in a tiny venue (Manchester Met, I think) c1994. We stood staring at Hope Sandoval, enraptured by her voice and, well, her. I’d probably do the same today.

This choice provoked some serious debate within the assembled members. However I cannot be sure that my critique led to the consequent decision by the band to split up the week after our meeting. Having followed the band from the earliest days I should feel that this is the breakthrough album to gaining   widespread appreciation, but for me, something went off message here.

I admitted early on that personal circumstances and age had a big impact on this choice and no doubt prejudiced my opinion. I guess if you joined R.E.M at Green, then the consequent ride was enjoyable and you could even go back and enjoy a fantastic back catalogue. When this album came out I played it all the time for months and saw them again live.

As the years went by, I came to see this album as a turning point. On this and consequent albums there are some wonderful individual tracks, however I now feel that none of these albums hang together  as well as their first four. I’m not sure how  much the decision to leave IRS for Warner Bros influenced my opinion or the music on the album. To me Stand paved the way to having to endure Shiny Happy ……. on Out of Time. Inside out has always sounded like a less powerful rehash of Finest Worksong from the previous album and I now would venture that everything else on Green has been done better on the previous albums. The first four albums seem to have all the real edginess, power, musicality and cavalier style that Green lacks. What Green has for me is a “polish” to the sound which wasn’t required.

I freely admit that I grew up treasuring R.E.M. and somehow having a degree of ownership taken away from me when the success after this album kicked in. Maybe I’m bitter? However choosing These Days (Lifes Rich Pageant) as my track certainly cheered up this grumpy old man!

Tom Listened: Green was my first REM album and, although it took a while, I grew to admire its insidious melodies, eventually recognising structure and flow in songs where initially there seemed to be none (The Wrong Child, World Leader Pretend, Hairshirt), and enjoying the lighter moments for what they were; clever little pop songs that do a little more than they say on the tin. Like most ‘indie kids’ of the late 80s/early 90s, I then felt an obligation to explore REM’s back catalogue and found it much less consistent than music history would seem to suggest. I seem to have clicked with alternate REM albums: Reckoning, Life’s Rich Pageant and Green are my keepers, the other three are, for me, less essential. But, at the time, I certainly didn’t foresee the awfulness of REM beyond Green. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the frankly execrable Shiny Happy People, I may well have wasted my money on a few more REM releases before realising they had shot their bolt.

Listening again to Green the other night, I was confused as to whether my feelings towards the record could be objective, mixed up as they are with very distinct memories of a first term at university. As Green filled much of my listening time at that time and not a huge amount since, it operates like a time machine and as such, I find it hard to determine whether it’s the songs I like or the memories they evoke. Probably a bit of both!

Rob listened: I love ‘Green’. Always have and always will. I came to REM late, having somehow confused them with Green and Red in my teenage idiocy and fell for ‘Document’ and ‘Green’ at the same time. I think they’re two parts of the same phase, the band breaking away from their roots, beginning to experiment with where they could go next. I understand Graham’s reservations, but for me this is pretty close to a Desert Island Disc, and even if they went and split up in a week’s time, songs like ‘World Leader Pretend’ and ‘You Are The Everything’ will go on and on.

Nick listened: A measure of how much REM are on my musical radar; I didn’t know they’d split up until I came back to see if Graham had posted this, and when I found out I didn’t care. At all. This record if anything shows the slight age-gap in DRC; the other three members all know this record well and have strong feelings about it, all love at leads one phase of REM’s career, and could easily spend all night debating the minutiae of those phases and when they each got off the bus. So too, seemingly, could several of the people who responded on Twitter as we listened – far more responses than we’ve ever had about any other record, and all from people a little older than I am. Because I’d never heard this record before, and thought it sounded alright; much like most REM up to and including New Adventures In Hi-Fi (and maybe bits of Up). I only got on the bus, or rather, only saw the bus from a distance, after everyone else here had got off it. Oh well.