'Tower Of Strength' - The Mission (1987)

“And you’re true to me,
And still I need more”

If you were looking for me on a Saturday night in 1987/88, the best place to start would have been The Astoria. Formerly on Charing Cross Road. Now dust on the wind. (Oh, how very poetic. Wayne Hussey would surely approve.) And much missed.

Not my pic. Happy to remove if anyone wants to claim it.

Snake-dancing to All About Eve. Moshing to The Wonder Stuff. Choking on dry ice to The Nephilim. So very many formative gig experiences happened for me within its dark-to-the eye and tacky-to-the-touch walls. Most always in the company of my cousins or my friend Chris. We’d go back to school the following Monday laden with tales of taking an elbow to the face from a zealous stage-diver during ‘Too Many Castles In The Sky’ by Rose of Avalanche, while our classmates talked about a great pair of Hi-Tecs they’d bought in Farnborough. Could never understand why others didn’t want to share our world. “Hey, I got elbowed in the face. You don’t see the great joy of life in that? No?” 

Let’s avoid making a list. But if we were making a list, and it was called ‘Bands I Saw Most Often At The Astoria’, then straddling the misty peak like a gothic colossus would be (you guessed it) The Mission. They seemed to be the house band in those years. Even when they weren’t actually on the bill, various band members would pop up on stage for other people’s shows. And every time I saw them was a petal-strewn delight.       

My final visit to The Astoria was for Kate Nash, Soko and Noah & The Whale. In 2008. There had been almost a twenty-year gap. But nothing had seemingly changed. Those walls were as dark and tacky as ever. Except, I noticed for the first time there was a balcony. It must have always been there, but us teenage goths had no time for balconies. Now none of it remains. Pushed aside to become an underground station entrance when they finally finish rebuilding Tottenham Court Road. Unlike all the ‘80s bands I saw there that have since come back together, this is one icon that unfortunately we won’t get to see reform.   

Oh, yes - those beloved multi-formats.
Here's the limited 12-inch Bombay Mix.

With insert and sticker.

'Weightless Again' - The Handsome Family (1998)

"We stopped for coffee in the Redwood forest;

Giant dripping leaves,

Spoons of powdered cream.

I wanted to kiss you, but wasn’t sure how."

There’s a note waiting for me in the hallway. Must be from my new neighbours welcoming me to the building. Yes, it’s from the girl next door. But she seems to have skipped straight over the welcoming part and launched straight in to ‘Please don’t play any music between 11pm and 8am’. That’s friendly. Especially as I haven’t even played a single song yet. Guess she must have noticed that the dozen crates I moved in yesterday were all labelled ‘Records’.  

She needn’t have worried. My tinnitus means I can never play anything loud anyway. And over the next couple of years, I often thought I’m the one who should be writing letters as she seemed to be continually throwing Proclaimers-themed parties.

Fourteen years later, she’s moved on. And I’m still here. Nesting. Moving again seems too much of an ordeal. Far easier to just buy every flat on this floor and knock through. That’s the plan. At least that was the plan, until my friend pointed out that when I’m older I’ll be stuck three floors up with no lift. Hmm.

   

Spotify linky:
The Handsome Family – Weightless Again

'Martha's Harbour' - All About Eve (1988)

"You are an ocean wave, my love,

Crashing at the bow."

Sixth form summer art project. Sketch the places you go and the people you see. Well, I’m not really one for summer. Or going places. Or seeing people. So I decided to spend a day freeze-framing the ‘Martha’s Harbour’ video and drawing that instead.

Which resulted in a pad bursting with images of a mournful Pre-Raphaelite-style woman standing around a windswept harbour. Oh, and lighthouses. Lots of lighthouses. Surely that’s everyone’s idea of a great summer. 


My art teacher seemed typically bemused (this was before he finally lost all patience with me on seeing my volcanic-melting-men masterpiece). And I decided this was brilliant fun and immediately began a series of charcoals based on The Sisters of Mercy’s ’Dominion’ video.    

Unfortunately, the original video for 'Martha's Harbour' doesn't appear to be on YouTube, so the above is a live performance from TOTP. I resisted the cruel temptation to include All About Eve's appearance from the week before when they couldn't hear the backing track and thus sat lifeless on stage for half the song. Yes, go have a look for it.



'Dominion' is the greatest music video ever made. Fact. We'll come back to it again in another post.

'Sgt. Pepper Knew My Father' - Various (1988)

"A crowd of people turned away.

But I just had to look,

Having read the book."

Cult bands covering classic albums. It seems MOJO magazine glues one of these to their covers every month now – most recently ‘Pet Sounds’ and ‘Yellow Submarine’. But back in 1988, the NME’s ‘Sgt. Pepper Knew My Father’ was the first of its kind. (Or was it? Perhaps not. Let me know if I’m wrong.)

Released to celebrate 21 years of the original ‘Sgt Pepper’s’ album and to raise some cash for the charity Childline, this tribute is probably most remembered for its chart-topping cover of ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’ by Wet Wet Wet.   

Now here’s a revelation for you: I’ve never really cared for Wet Wet Wet. Shocked? Well, here’s another: I’ve never much liked The Beatles either. Beyond one or two songs. The rest just sound like nursery rhymes to me. So the appeal of this album was primarily The Fall’s cover of ‘A Day In The Life’. Every second a marvel. I’d never heard it before, so this became the definitive version for me. (Yes, I’m quite sure that’s some kind of sacrilege and I’ve lost all you Beatles fans from today.) Cracking covers by the Weddoes, Bragg, Sonics and Frank Sidebottom were all bonuses.

Although the shine of novelty has lost its luster, I still find these cover albums inordinately compelling. I’m really hoping MOJO is now working on a tribute to The Thompson Twins’ ‘Quick Step & Side Kick’.    

Spotify linkys:

Billy Bragg – She’s Leaving Home

Frank Sidebottom – Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kyte

Sonic Youth – Within You Without You

Wedding Present – Getting Better

'Elephant Stone' - The Stone Roses (1988)

"It seems like there’s a hole,

In my dreams."

As the eldritch embers of the Great Goth War began to dim and cool, a new fiefdom rose in the North. The times of Baggy were upon us, and the twin dynasties of The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays were in ascendance.    

The legions of the Baggyhood quickly spilled forth from the misty moors of Madchester to exalt their anointed kings across the great lands of Britannia. From the gilded tower of Blackpool to the fervent isle of Spike, the rallying cry rang out and the masses did rave on.

Many pale pretenders to the throne were to follow in their wake. (Yes, I’m looking at you Candy Flip.) And the eventual self-destruction of both dynasties would birth myriad myths and legends. But in their stead remains a venerated chalice of canticles to a fallen empire that is testament to their impassioned ideology.


"It’s not where you’re from, it’s where you’re at" – Ian Brown, 1989.

Spotify linky:

The Stone Roses – Elephant Stone

Produced by Peter Hook, fact fans.

Found this Smash Hits sticker tucked in the sleeve.
Yes, I really do hoard too much.

'Mercy Seat' - Ultra Vivid Scene (1988)

"Apply the heat that gently turns,

My sickness in to health."

Not all goths are created equal. According to Howard. Picture Howard as the Elder Goth. One who sires other fledgling goths. Like in those vampire shows. Howard was always talked about in revered tones by kids in the years above me at school. And teachers would say to me, "Oh you must know Howard, he’s a goth too".

Can’t remember how or where I finally met him. But in the summer of 1988, Howard used to turn up at my front door every couple of weeks. Under cover of darkness, of course. Head to toe in black. And always with a tape for me. Usually something by Clan of Xymox or Cindytalk. Fully approved goth bands to his ears.

On Howard’s sliding scale of gothdom, I was a mere demi-goth. I had made the cardinal sin of listening to Fields of the Nephilim, which knocked off loads of goth points, apparently. But I clawed some back by owning most everything on 4AD at the time – though I never quite understood what was so ‘goth’ about that label, as the majority of their bands seemed more influenced by the Velvet Underground and Tim Buckley.

We quickly fell out of touch after that summer. Finding Belinda Carlisle in my record collection was probably the final insult to Howard's pure-bred gothic sensibilities. I like to think he’s still sitting on his throne of molten Nephilim albums, seeding plans for the next gothic uprising. If he’s been reading this blog, somehow I don’t think I’ll be invited.   

Spotify linky:

Ultra Vivid Scene – Mercy Seat

'Blue Bell Knoll' - Cocteau Twins (1988)

"What’s she singing about, Michael?"

"Is this even English?"

"Is the whole album like this?"

"Have you done your plate tectonics assignment?"

"OI! GOTH!! Take this gibberish off the stereo or I’ll ram the tape down your throat!"

*sighs*

‘Moonchild’ – Fields Of The Nephilim (1988)

"Well, they tear you down,

And they’ll bear your shame.

Longevity, hear my pain."

"Why are you rubbing flour in to your coat, Son?"

"You wouldn’t understand, Dad."

Parents, eh?! It’s August Bank Holiday 1988 and time for another Reading Festival. The Nephilim have jumped to third on the bill after releasing the Top 28 chart sensation ‘Moonchild’ – I’ve even heard my milkman whistling it. So in tribute, I’ll be going for the Neph’s look this weekend.

"And what exactly is that?" Well, think Spaghetti Westerns. And those iconic ankle-length, sand-weathered, trail duster coats. That's the look I’ll be recreating. With an old trench coat from the Army Surplus store and a bag of my mum’s Homepride flour in lieu of real desert dust. What could possibly go wrong ?

Let me answer that for you right away. It could rain. And it did rain. Of course it did. It’s a Bank Holiday and the Reading Festival. The twin harbingers of rain. What was I thinking? You can guess what happened next. Instead of looking like a fearless outlaw from the dusty plains of the mythic Wild West, I looked like I’d barely survived a bun fight at the local baker’s.

My Dad wasn’t exactly chuffed about letting soggy, doughy me in his spotless car that night for a lift home. He had that ‘I told you so’ look on his face for the whole journey. Parents, eh?!

Spotify linky:

Fields Of The Nephilim – Moonchild

Ooh, look. You put the back sleeves together and you get this.

Another of the many joys of vinyl. Take that, CDs!

P.S. And, no, I don't hold the copyright on the above image from 'Once Upon A Time In The West'. Will happily remove and apologise if there any objections.

‘On Tape’ – The Pooh Sticks (1988)

"You want it,

I’ve got it,

I’m talking about everything.

I’ve got the Monkees’ ‘Head’ soundtrack …

On tape."

Always be suspicious of anyone with a good-looking record player. They’ll have the most awful record collection. Fact! No point arguing. Music lovers spend money on vinyl. Level 42 fans spend money on turntables. This is true. I conducted a survey. Yes, when I was about 15, admittedly. A couple of kids at school were very proud of their ‘hi-fis’. It’s just a shame that they only owned about two records between them. And those records were both ‘Now That’s What I Call Music’ compilations.

Every penny that came my way growing up was spent on records. That’s a lie to emphasise my point. Every penny that came my way growing up was actually spent on records and Star Wars figures, cards, comics, transfers, pencil cases, bubble bath, etc. Every record player that came my way growing up was a present. I had two. Both of little monetary value, but they meant everything to me. The first was manual (you lifted the arm yourself) and you could play 78s – only really useful if I wanted to listen to my mum’s old Adam Faith singles. Which I didn’t. The second, about five years later, was automatic and had a central spindle where you could stack records and they’d drop down after each side ended. A revolutionary way to scratch and warp your beloved collection. I’m only on my third record player now – had it a good 15 years – and would still rather spend money on new music than new equipment. Although I’m happy to invest in a good record duster if anyone has ever found one – I really should stop using my shirt sleeves.

This track by The Pooh Sticks always made me smile, with its wonderfully astute lyrical digs. Still does. I bought it in the Friary Shopping Centre in Guildford. No idea why I remember that so clearly. I’m sure it’d sound great on a top-end record player. But it feels perfectly at home on mine.   

Obviously Spotify has failed me again, but here’s the song on YouTube (with a great pic showcasing a haircut I copied for my upper sixth form school photo): 

Everyone should express their greatest loves through the medium of badges (or buttons, if you're reading this in the US) - here's my parka:

‘Christine’ – The House Of Love (1988)

“And the whole world dragged us down,
And the whole world turned aside.”

This song made me want to make friends with a Christine. I still haven’t to this day. It’s one of the great disappointments in my life. I love it when songs do that to me. It always adds that extra poignancy to a great song when it shares a name with one of your friends.

I knew a Charlotte, so The Cure’s ‘Charlotte Sometimes’ was made that bit more special. But I’ve yet to meet a Lola or a Velouria. I need more exotic friends. Especially if I’m ever to meet a Candy. That would surely top trump them all.

So I don’t have a Christine in my life to make me think of this song. Instead, it reminds me of sitting on the pavement outside the old Town and Country Club in Kentish Town (now the HMV Forum *sighs*) with my friend Chris the year this single came out. He’d talked me into coming up to town to see The House Of Love take part in the Creation Records ‘Doing It For The Kids’ gig. It’d been sold out for ages. We didn’t have tickets. And we never got tickets. But we enjoyed ourselves just hanging outside for a few hours with other fans. Those were simpler times.

P.S. If you’re reading this and called Christine, get in touch.

Spotify linky:
The House Of Love – Christine - John Peel 2/4/89

(The full-blown single version has yet to appear on Spotify, so I’ve linked to an acoustic radio session.)

‘Last Exit For The Lost’ – Fields Of The Nephilim (1988)

“Summerland holds me in sumerian haze.”

“Gooooooth!” I used to hear this shouted at me about two dozen times a day at school. Most often in quite friendly ways – it kinda became my nickname back in the days when I was the only goth in school. But every so often it was some gang of lads in the year above heckling me between classes. That’s as far as they ever went though, until one day when I was in the Lower Sixth.

By some twist of good fortune, all the friends I made at my first school grew up to be the toughest kids in the playground in later years – the kind that would always be called out of class to see the Headmaster for smoking at break-time, bringing knives into school, or burning down the music room. Strangely enough, the toughest kids can be the most sentimental, which meant I always escaped their bullying as they’d remember the days we used to play with our Smurfs together up the park.

By the time I reached the Sixth Form though, my luck looked like it was about to run out as by then they’d all either left or been expelled (generally the latter). This left me in the clutches of my arch nemesis: the Head Boy. His favourite band was Level 42. Need I say more? He’d parade around school with two lackies and continually tell me to tuck my shirt in. This seemed to become an obsession with him. He seemed to feel I was undermining his authority by completely ignoring his request and walking straight past him without even looking up.

What I didn’t know at the time was that one day he finally snapped and was planning to ambush me with his mates up the school’s bridle path. But it seemed I had a guardian angel. Well, two really. A kid we called ‘Stir’ stepped in to warn them off for me – because his sister in the year below liked me (yes, I know, imagine someone liking me; I was as surprised as you). 'Stir' was one of those kids who would either charm or pummel you into doing something – the choice was yours. They left me alone after that. I only found all this out a few years back. So I’m sending a big belated thanks out now to ‘Stir’ and his fab sister. And a big “ner-ner-ner-ner-ner” to that Head Boy, wherever he is. Oops ... perhaps I shouldn’t do that. I haven’t anyone left to protect me these days.

Spotify linky:

Fields Of The Nephilim – Last Exit For The Lost

'Feed Me With Your Kiss' - My Bloody Valentine (1988)

“Your kiss will set you free”

For 22 years I’ve had a ringing in my left ear. It’s actually more like a high-pitched whistling. It makes it hard to sleep and gets worse when I’m anxious. At first it used to come and go. I’d come back from gigs with my ears whistling and it’d be gone by morning. Most folk I know have had that experience. I didn’t think much of it. And then I went to see My Bloody Valentine at the University of London. In a very small room. Where they played this song, with a 15-minute solo that was basically a wail of feedback. Hmm … this isn’t going to turn out well.

I woke up the next morning and the whistling was still there. And the next day too. After a week I went to the doctor’s. He wasn’t exactly the most sympathetic chap. Tinnitus was a new word to me and I think to him too. I was sitting there explaining the effect it was having on me when suddenly there was a riot of drilling from the roadworks outside. “Don’t worry,” he said. “That’s not your ears.” I never went back.

So kids, today’s post comes with a health warning: look after your ears. I’d like to see that stamped on all gig tickets, ads and posters. My Bloody Valentine has started handing out free ear plugs at shows. I wish more bands would do that. And I certainly wish I’d had some back then.

P.S. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the next post is a return to the frothier, light-hearted rambling nonsense you’ve come to know and love.

Spotify linky:
My Bloody Valentine – Feed Me With Your Kiss

P.P.S. Turn your speakers/headphones down if you're clicking through to this link, as it starts loud and only gets louder.