Tag: British rock

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Vinyl

Vinyl love: Northside “Chicken rhythms”

(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)

Artist: Northside
Album Title: Chicken rhythms
Year released: 1991
Year reissued: 2024
Details: RSD2024 release, Limited edition, yellow, numbered 1169

The skinny: My last ‘vinyl love’ post back in April featured one of my Record Store Day finds and I hinted, then, that there was one record that I didn’t find, but was still on the lookout for. This was that record. I ended up ordering a copy from one of the indie record stores whose online presences I frequent. I just couldn’t help myself. Released in 1991, “Chicken rhythms” was Northside’s lone full-length album, which I’ve alway seen as a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. And for the longest time, I held a grudge against fellow Mancunians, Happy Mondays*, whose excessive lifestyles likely played no small part in bankrupting theirs and Northside’s record label, Factory Records, forever shortening Northside’s discography. “Chicken Rhythms” was the first album I ever purchased on compact disc** and now I own it for my record shelves, a numbered, special edition Record Store Day release, pressed to yellow vinyl. Oh baby.

Standout track: “Take five”

*Have no fear, I forgave them eventually and we’re friends again.

**Because I couldn’t find it on cassette tape anywhere.

Categories
Tunes

100 best covers: #42 Pop Will Eat Itself “Games without frontiers”

<< #43    |    #41 >>

So here’s a topsy-turvy, chicken and the egg kind of story.

I remember hearing “Games without frontiers” on AM radio as a pre-teen not really know who the artist was or what the song was about. I much later became a fan of Peter Gabriel when I picked up his “Shaking the tree” compilation on CD in the midst of my 80s retro kick in the late 1990s and there, reacquainted myself with the track. However, prior to that, in the early 1990s, I became a fan of Grebo jokesters Pop Will Eat Itself, mostly because of their relations with The Wonder Stuff and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, bands of whom I was already a big fan. Years later, some time in the early 2000s, whilst exploring some of PWEI’s back catalogue that I had yet to consume, I came across this cover they did of “Games without frontiers” and with a bit more digging, found that it was their contribution to a fundraiser compilation supporting the peace efforts in Northern Ireland, called “Peace together”.

Peter Gabriel’s original version of the song was recorded for his self-titled third album, released in 1980. It features Kate Bush on backing vocals, plodding percussive and bass synths, a drum machine mimicking congos, whistling, and sinister guitar lines dancing along the minor key. It is oft-considered an anti-war song with a title referencing a well-known European game show and lyrics that equate politics with children games, rhyming off names of children from different cultures, all playing together.

So a good choice then for a band to cover for an album promoting peace. Pop Will Eat Itself’s cover is longer, predictably rage-filled, and rife with samples. Though its rhythm and its use of rhythm as melody is the same, the tone is indeed very different. It feels like they packaged it all up, Gabriel included, and shot it off into an apocalyptic future world similar to that found in “Tank girl”. Yeah, it’s fun in its angst.

Indeed, both versions are a gas and make you feel urbane as your happily singalong, but I think I may be siding with original in terms of preference, even as I replay the cover with the volume cranked.

Cover:

Original:

For the rest of the 100 best covers list, click here.

Categories
Tunes

Best tunes of 1993: #4 The Boo Radleys “Lazarus”

<< #5   |    #3 >>

Here’s a song with which I will always and forever connect with The Dance Cave.

Some of you who live, have lived in, or frequently visit Tarannah will likely have heard of or know of Lee’s Palace. It’s a long-standing concert venue in the Annex neighbourhood that has seen a great many alternative and rock acts grace its stage since opening in the mid 80s. If you’ve never been there, you likely remember its garish paint job that looked like a Ralph Bakshi cartoon exploded all over the face of the building, long since pared down to a mere memory of itself after years of weather did its worst. Upstairs from said venue, they had a big open space that served more as a rough and tumble looking club that often played alternative and indie rock, served $1.50 glasses of mystery draft, and was packed most days of the week throughout the 90s. This was The Dance Cave.

It was the first club I went to with any regularity because it played “my music”. Music I loved and music that I was destined to love. “Lazarus” by The Boo Radleys is one of these latter tunes that was played there pretty much any night that I attended and that I danced to every time, countless times before I even knew the name of the song or its performing artist.

The Boo Radleys formed in 1988 and broke up just over a decade later having released six full length albums. They started off firmly planted in the shoegaze realm for the first half of their career before embracing the inescapable wave of britpop for their last three albums and actually saw a modicum of commercial success during this latter period. And though I loved “Lazarus” through and through during the late 90s, I never really explored their catalogue into well after their break up. My first stop was, of course, 1993’s “Giant steps” and that album took me a long time to digest and fathom because it was so expansive and diverse in sound and scope. Some would call it an unheralded masterpiece of shoegaze and I couldn’t disagree.

In amongst the noise, “Lazarus” is lucky 13 of 17 tracks. It starts off with alien waves of guitars, strings fed through pedals charged with laser beams. This just sets the stage, allows you time to put down your beverage and rush out into the crush of sweaty bodies on the heaving dance floor and at the same time, plays the decoy for the incredible explosions yet to come. Then, everything vaults skyward and the dancing begins in earnest. And just when you think you might have to take a break, the vocals start in to calm the mood some, soothing the energy, allowing the spray of perspiration to settle, just before kicking it all up again. It’s the classic loud-quiet-loud, disruptive energy, a blurry anthem and cause for happiness and bliss for its entirety.

For the rest of the Best tunes of 1993 list, click here.