On this day …1986 (aged 15)

Scribblings from my diary …

“School camping trip. Hike 12km across Exmoor. Find loads of dead sheep. Sleep in a bin bag, in a hole, covered by a polythene sheet. Get no sleep.”

‘California’ – American Music Club (1986)

“If I have to be this lonely,
I may as well be alone.”

Walk into any supermarket in any town and you can buy a Westlife CD. Yet try and find this album in any shop in any country and you’ll be out of luck. It’s a depressing thought.

American Music Club were one of the many bands I discovered reading Melody Maker during break-time at school, but the first to introduce me to the delights of what would become 'the new sounds of the old west'. ‘California’ is their third album though the first I heard. It’s regarded as the one where they found their voice. Every song is a gem that sparkles with tales of yearning, devotion and addiction. My favourite musical cocktail.

Lead singer Mark Eitzel is unfortunately one of those artists destined to be recognised only when he’s no longer with us. I’ve only seen him live once and it was actually only last year, at a solo show in a church off Charing Cross Road. Why only once and after all these years? Well, you know when something is so special to you that you actually keep yourself away from it so as not to spoil it? Yes? Well, AMC songs are like that to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see them performed live with an audience as all my memories of their songs revolve around me on my lonesome. I’m pleased I went though. It was a night of beauty and pain. My favourite social cocktail.

Two decades of legal wrangles are still keeping ‘California’ from a re-release. And I’m sure the supermarkets aren’t exactly hollering to get it on their shelves. I want to live in a world though where I can find this CD in Asda. Is that too much to ask?

Spotify linky:
Mark Eitzel – Blue And Grey Shirt
‘California’ is also unavailable on Spotify, but this is a live version of one of the album’s tracks from a Mark Eitzel solo show back in 1991.

‘Heartland’ – The The (1986)

‘Well it ain't written in the papers,

But it’s written on the walls,

The way this country is divided to fall.

So the cranes are moving on the skyline,

Trying to knock down this town.

But the stains on the heartland, can never be removed,

From this country, that's sick, sad, and confused.’

Music lyrics are the modern day poetry. Discuss. Actually … let’s not. My school friend Chris though did once put this to the test in Ms Taylor’s English class. Our homework was to write a poem on urban decay. I’ve never had much heart for poetry, so have no idea what I cobbled together. But I remember that Chris decided to simply copy out the lyrics to ‘Heartland’ and hand them in as his own.

So what mark did Ms Taylor give the biting social commentary of Matt Johnson? B minus. I think he could be happy with that. Chris wasn’t. Especially as I got a B.

(This song and the album 'Infected' were accompanied by a great set of videos that I'm still hoping will one day be released on DVD to replace my now wonky video copy. Are you listening Sony/BMG?)

Spotify linky:

The The – Heartland

‘Sun Arise’ – The Godfathers (1986)

“Sun arise,
Come every mornin’.
Bringin' back the warmth to the ground.”

“These guys have been tuning up forever. When’s the band coming on?” “They are the band! This is their best song.” Ah, the joys of Spaceman 3 on another soggy Friday afternoon at the Reading Festival in 1989.

My first Reading was back in 1987 when it was still the Reading Rock Festival, with the emphasis very much on ‘Rock’. The days of piss bottle fights, burning fields, and the general fear of getting your head kicked in if you looked at a New Model Army fan in the wrong way – which was in any way at all. My cousins and I were by far the youngest ones there. By about a decade. We’d been drawn in by the twin gothic majesty of The Mission and All About Eve. And, of course, The Fall – who popped up third on the bill every year in the 80s and gave 95% of the field a chance to head off to the beer tents.

Looking back through my diaries at old Melody Maker clippings of past line-ups, brings back memories of Harry Hill bottom of the bill in the comedy tent, bands possibly best lost in time (The Telescopes, An Emotional Fish, Tack>>Head) and the days when a special advance three-day season ticket was just £35.

The Godfathers played at my first Reading and I remember them being a great moshing band. Another dozen or so Readings followed – mainly due to the convenience of my parents living nearby, which meant I avoided the squalor of camping there. My last one (now transformed into the Carling Weekender or something *groans*) was six years back, with Moz and The White Stripes. I felt a decade too old and can’t imagine I’ll be back. I even gave a little farewell salute to the fields of my youth – by urinating in a bottle and lobbing it a Libertines fan. Only joking!


Spotify linky:
The Godfathers – Sun Arise

‘Flaunt It’ – Sigue Sigue Sputnik (1986)

“Shoot it up.”

So we all agree 10-inch records were annoying (from last week’s post – keep up.) Yes? Now look at this: The debut album from Sigue Sigue Sputnik. Housed in a flimsy cardboard box. (Or ‘A 21st Century Toy’ as the Sputnik Corporation would have you believe.) Who needed this in their life? Well, apart from me, obviously.

Everyone loved to hate Sputnik in the mid-80s. With their mega-bucks record contract, Blade Runner posturings and one-note multi-format releases. I thought they were genius. And to my school friend Nick they were gods. Nick was one of those friends you had in the year above who got expelled from school for something that was never clearly defined (generally a combination of alcohol, knives and arson), but still hung round the gates at lunch-time.

Nick should have been in Sputnik. He had the look, the attitude, and the ability to play two notes on a keyboard. He looked like he’d seen and lived things well beyond his sixteen years (when he wasn’t hanging out at the park or the chippy with us younger kids). If you wanted your ears pierced or head shaved, he was your go-to guy. He wouldn’t do either of these things particularly well, but there was a definite kudos in saying it was Nick who had made your ears go green and puffy.

Nick was also one of those friends who quickly passes through your life – he was there one day (I only ever knew him after he’d been expelled, through my friend Stephen) and then he was gone only a few months later. Pretty much like this album. It was fun for a few listens that year. I probably remember the adverts between the tracks (yep, that’s right kids, it was the first album to feature ad breaks from L’Oréal, i-D, etc. – how very Sputnik) as much as the songs themselves. Sadly the ads haven’t made it on to Spotify, but let’s go ride the Love Missile one more time ...

Spotify linky:

Sigue Sigue Sputnik – Love Missile F1-11

‘E=mc²’– Big Audio Dynamite (1986)

“Ritual ideas, relativity

Only buildings, no people prophecy

Timeslide place to hide, nudge reality

Foresight minds wide, magic imagery.”

Guitar lessons got a lot more interesting after I was taught this song. Before that it had been all text book tablature. Nothing more modern than the ‘House of the Rising Sun’ or The Beatles. Then one Saturday morning, my guitar teacher (possibly sensing I was losing interest in strumming ‘Yellow Submarine’) asked me what I’d been listening to that week and if I wanted to learn it. This was a revelation. In the last five years, I’d never thought about actually asking to learn something I liked.

So I put this record on. And after the first verse and chorus, my teacher was playing along. And after the second verse, I was following his lead. (Listening back now, I can only smile at how rudimentary he must have thought this song was, with its two basic chords and six-note melody.) By the next lesson I’d mastered the bass riff to ‘Ghostbusters’. There was no stopping me now.

Most importantly, songwriting suddenly didn’t seem as daunting as before. By deconstructing these songs, I’d been taught how to construct my own. I’d already won the ‘Young Musician of the Year’ contest at school (hurrah for me!) with a song that I’d written but quickly disowned. It was about how rock ‘n’ roll would never die. Yes, I’m groaning too. You can see why I disowned it. (But to be fair, I found out a couple of years later that Neil Young had written a song with the same sentiments, so who’s laughing now? Oh, you are. Fair enough.) Now I felt ready to transcend those initial immature songwriting fumblings. Now it was time to write my own ‘Ghostbusters’. I’ll let you know how that worked out another time. (Clue: The fact you haven’t seen my name in the charts may suggest I never quite achieved this lofty ambition.)

Spotify linky:
Big Audio Dynamite – E=MC2

On this day ... 1986 (aged 15)

Scribblings from my diary …

“A new burger bar opens in Frimley. Madden and I get half price off lunch at our usual chippy ‘cos we don’t go to it.”

On this day ... 1986 (aged 15)

Scribblings from my diary …

“In Information Technology we use a package called ‘Mail’ and send messages between computers.”

On this day ... 1986 (aged 15)

Scribblings from my diary …

“I find a used British Telecom phone card.”

End of term report ... 1986 (aged 15)

The musings of my Year Head ...

“I should like to see Michael-Jason becoming more involved in school life. At the moment he is proud of the fact that he does not integrate in school activities.”

On this day ... 1986 (aged 15)

“Quote of the year from Lee Something Or Other in our Physics test:”

“Why are you late, Lee?”
“Because it’s a long walk from the PE block.”
“That’s all right then – sit down.”
“I wasn’t coming from the PE block though.”

On this day ... 1987 (aged 16)

Scribblings from my diary ...

“Had an argument with my parents as they wanted to go out for a meal tonight and wouldn’t go unless I went. I didn’t want to go, so we all stayed at home.”