I Am The Mouth

So there I was, trying to decide what song I would post this week, on our visit to that perfect Indie Disco where songs which don’t normally get played “out” get a spin.

I had alighted on one and was mulling over what to write about it, when the phrase “…a keyboard that would make Clint Boon swoon…” came to mind to describe it. Which made me think that perhaps there was a more appropriate band I should focus on this week instead.

Yes that’s right, none other than  The Clint Boon Experience the Inspiral Carpets.

Very much a “singles band”, I think, and much played back in the day (by which I mean,  when I started DJ’ing at college, circa 1989), the Inspirals, along with bands like The Stone Roses, Happy Mondays and The Charlatans, very much saved my bacon. When I first started DJ’ing (I wrote about that here, in case you care to catch up), for the first few months my co-DJ Danny and I realised that perhaps the appetite for an Indie Night just wasn’t there amongst our fellow students.

See, this was a time when post-Smiths “indie music” wasn’t the bankable commodity it became after Britpop followed Grunge followed Shoegaze followed Madchester, and that time just happened to coincide with when we took over the fortnightly indie night. For the first couple of months, to say we struggled to break even most weeks was an understatement. The venue we played in had a capacity of 400, and often we would struggle to get anywhere near the treble-figure mark attending. There was talk of the night being axed altogether, and Danny and I scratched our heads as to what we could do to save it. We certainly didn’t want to go down in Students Union history as being the guys who killed the only alternative music night.

And then we got lucky. Suddenly this new sound, this distinctive baggy, Madchester groove, started getting more airplay on the radio,  and before we knew it, the “kids” were suddenly asking us for us to play all these new bands predominantly from the North West, sometimes bringing us records to play, all turning up to our night wearing flared trousers and hooded tops, keen to look cool and show off their Bez dance, if those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Danny and I seized the moment with both hands, which is four hands if you think about it, seeking out and playing more and more of this stuff: Northside, New Fast Automatic Daffodils, The Mock Turtles…and then the existing indie bands, your Primal Screams, your Soup Dragons, started releasing their own brand of indie/dance crossover and having…bloody hell, what’s this..?…hits! Suddenly, our little indie night was the place to be seen every other Tuesday night, and  before we knew it Danny and I achieved a very low level of fame, hosts of “that night where they play the cool stuff” before the more commercial Saturday Night DJ’s had sunk their teeth into them.

Inspiral Carpets were very much a “must-play” band for us back then; but if you hear them played out these days, I guarantee you it will probably be either “Dragging Me Down” or “Saturn 5” which has the dust blown off its grooves; fine singles both, but it’s in the direction of an earlier, less polished, single that I want to lovingly prod you.

Actually, no, make that two singles: for when I decided it would be the Inspirals that would feature here this week, I couldn’t make up my mind which of two to post. So here you go, have them both, because they are both absolute corkers.

Firstly, a song which, when Hel and I used to share a flat, we would sing whenever watching ‘Match of the Day’ and a certain ex-Man City and Everton forward would get a mention:

Inspiral Carpets – Joe

…and secondly, the follow-up single, 2:03 of pure upbeat, swirly-organed pop joy, guaranteed to leave you with a ridiculous grin on your face:

Inspiral Carpets – Find Out Why

Hopefully you’ll understand why I couldn’t decide on just one of those to post.

More soon.

I Am The Mouth

So after a weekend that involved me posting nothing but Shakin’ Stevens, Bucks Fizz, Darts, Dire Straits and two other Mark Knopfler based tunes, I suppose I ought to drag this back round to something a little less mainstream.

Think about every time that you’ve been at, what for the purposes of this section we call an ‘Indie Disco’, and then think of the different songs by The Smiths that you’ve heard being played. “This Charming Man”, obviously. “Bigmouth Strikes Again” maybe. Occasionally “Hand in Glove”. “Panic” less frequently (DJ’s tend to get a bit nervous of playing that, given it’ “Hang the DJ” closing refrain). “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” often makes an appearance as an end-of-the-night dancefloor sing-a-long, signalling the fact that the lights are very much about to come on.

But today’s choice? Never, as far as I can remember, have I heard it played “out”, which given it has a shimmering extended funky disco-esque groove and a bassline that Nile Rodgers would be proud of, whilst still retaining it’s indelible Indie-ness, is a bit of a surprise.

Actually, that’s not quite true. I can think of one occasion when a DJ played it “out”, although I think you’d struggle to describe it as being at an ‘Indie Disco’.

This would have been around 1986, or maybe 1987, when I was at Sixth Form college studying for my ‘A’ Levels. Inexplicably, one afternoon my friend Richie and I are sitting in the Peterborough branch of McDonalds. This is inexplicable since Richie was definitely vegetarian at the time, and if I wasn’t one yet then I must have been very much on the cusp.

Possibly the reason we were in there was due to a second inexplicable fact: there was a DJ playing. Nobody famous, just some local Dave Doubledecks mobile DJ who had been hired in to provide something approaching atmosphere. I think we must have ventured in, intrigued and, more than likely, to take the piss.

We were definitely on our way somewhere, to a house party I think, as Richie had a plastic bag full of vinyl with him. As we sat there, the DJ, clearly bored with having to think of stuff to play all by himself, and possibly in a desperate attempt to alleviate his boredom by creating some sort of audience participation, went on to his microphone and boomed something along the lines of “If there’s a special record you want to hear whilst you eat, come on over and ask; as long as I have it, I’ll play it.”

We mischievously sidled over to him.

“Alright mate?” was my opening gambit of choice. “Play anything will you? Got any Smiths?”

“No, sorry mate” he replied.

At which point Richie stepped forwards, thrust a record into his hands and said “You have now. Title track please, it’s the last track on Side Two.”

Many of you will know that The Smiths only released four studio albums (compilations aside), and of those only two have title tracks: “The Queen is Dead” (and, similarly, you all know that the title song there is Track One, Side One) and the album that the DJ looked down to find he was now holding.

“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?” he said, trying to off-load back to us the copy of “Meat is Murder” that he was suddenly, unwantedly, clutching. “I can’t play ‘Meat is Murder’ in a branch of McDonalds!”

“You just said you would!” I piped up. “‘As long as I have it, I’ll play it’. You just said it. And now you have it, so…if you don’t play it then I think you’ll find that technically that’s false advertising. Illegal. I’m sure the manager would be interested to hear about that, is he around….?” (I really was that much of an annoying, argumentative little git at that age. Some would argue that little has changed since.)

“Oh come on lads, don’t make me do this,” he pleaded, “I’ll either get fired or they’ll refuse to pay me….”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to take the corporate death machine’s dollar, matey,” Richie pitched in, in full Rik from The Young Ones mode.

“Look, how about I play the track before that, that’d be alright, yeah? A compromise?” It turned out to be a brilliant move by him; proving he knew today’s song and therefore probably the album too, it showed us that he was probably alright really: it saved his bacon’n’egg McMuffin.

And so it was that one Saturday afternoon in the late 1980s that Richie and I spent six and half minutes dancing to The Smiths in the Peterborough branch of McDonalds.

To this:

The Smiths – Barbarism Begins at Home

Footnote: I mentioned this in passing to Richie a while ago. He had absolutely no recollection of it whatsoever. I can’t have made it all up, can I….?

More soon.

I Am The Mouth

1989. I am established as the DJ (OK, co-DJ, just in case Danny Sweeney, who I’ve not heard from in 25 years is reading this) at the Indie Night (every other Tuesday) at the Student’s Union, and I have absolutely given up on the idea that my night may benefit from some funding to allow me to buy records that might keep me abreast of the then-current changes in the world of independent music.

Drastic times call for drastic measures; I realised I would have to spend some of my own money on records to play. So, I decided a percentage of the money I got paid to DJ would have to be reinvested, and so it was that I ventured into Cardiff to see what spoils I could find.

In those days, despite the presence of a Virgin Megastore and an HMV, there was only place to go to if you wanted to buy cool records in Cardiff: Spillers Records. Spillers is the oldest record shop in the world, established in Cardiff in 1894 by Henry Spiller, and I’m delighted to report still going strong today. If ever you’re in Cardiff, I urge you to go check it out. Or, visit them online here. The Robster will doubtless back me up on this.

On this occasion, I leave with two 12″ singles: Morrissey’s “Ouija Board, Ouija Board” and today’s choice, which, for the purposes of introducing some element of narrative suspense, I won’t divulge just yet.

Ordinarily, I would buy records and listen to them in advance, so I could see where it would fit in amongst all of the other stuff I intended to play. But on this occasion,I must have gone to Spillers on a Tuesday afternoon, for I know that when I arrived at the DJ booth that night I hadn’t listened to either record.

Aboiut an hour or so in, I popped the Morrissey record on. It is, to my dismay, one of the least dance-worthy records I have ever heard. I love it now, but I would never even contemplate playing it out.

Talking on the microphone was a definite no-no at the Union Nightclub, minus cool points if you did. Instead, around the venue were a number of TV screens, where you could write messages to the attending hordes dozens.

“This is the new Morrissey single….” I typed as the opening bars kicked in.

A little over a minute later, as literally nothing had happened, I typed to an empty dancefloor and a slightly fuller bar:

“Shit, isn’t it?”

I’d never faded a record out before, but this was a first. I slammed something by The Cure on and a few ventured back to the dancefloor.

An hour or so later, and it is time to drop my other purchase, which I also haven’t listened to. I am, given the reaction to the Morrissey record, a little nervous.

I cue up the record, and type the words “And this is the new record by The Stone Roses…”.

Fade in.

Sounds okay. A couple of hardened troopers venture onto the dancefloor. Better, if only a little.

A week or so later, I am sorting records out in the DJ booth in advance of me playing a night I wasn’t particularly familiar with (a 70s night, in case you’re interested. I’m available for bookings, by the way. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, etc). I have Top of the Pops playing on the TV screens. It’s what transpires to be an iconic edition, the moment when the Happy Mondays and The Stone Roses both gate-crashed the chart party for the first time.

The Roses come on, and over the audience cheers (theirs, not mine) I hear what is now is a seminal drum beat and bass riff kick in.

Hang on. That’s not what I played the other week.

I glance up to the screen, in time to see the camera swoop over the studio audiences’ heads, and the caption: “13. New Entry. The Stone Roses. Fools Gold” briefly appear and disappear.

That’s definitely not what I played the other week.

I didn’t watch the rest of the performance, I was too busy scrabbling through my records, looking for the offending 12″, which I eventually found, and sat back on my haunches, looking at the record sleeve, confused, until I flipped it over and saw what the B-Side was.

Famously, they had swapped the A and B-side, meaning the record I’d bought, and played, in all good faith as the A-side, was suddenly relegated to the B-Side.

I’m going to look a right twat, I thought.

It’s still a classic, mind:

The Stone Roses – What The World Is Waiting For

Although, I may have inadvertently got it wrong all those years ago, I stand by that being an absolute tune.

And certainly better than any of the formulaic old tosh they’ve served up since they reformed.

More soon.

I Am the Mouth

Right then, let’s get 2017 on the road.

Wait a minute.

*Checks the BBC website*

Nope.

*Checks Twitter*

All clear.

Okay, so we got through Day One of 2017 with, bar some chap from M*A*S*H*, no celebrity deaths. Give yourself a pat on the back, 2017, you’re doing a fine job so far.

So: a hypothetical scenario for you. Let’s say you’ve gone to a club, or a bar, or anywhere that records are being played with the intention of getting people to dance. And let’s say that maybe there’s an 80s vibe at your venue of choice. And now let’s say that the DJ has decided to play something by Kim Wilde. They pick one of two records: either “Kids in America” or her version of “You Keep Me Hanging On”, right?

Wrong.

They should play this, the follow-up to “Kids in America”, an often over-looked piece of Blondie-esque bubblegum pop:

Kim Wilde – Chequered Love

Right? Right!

More soon.

I Am The Mouth

Over to that mythical Indie/80s disco now, where every record is a stone cold classic that you’ve rarely, if ever, heard played out before; sometimes over-looked in preference of either more popular tunes by the same act or, as with today’s selections, by an Indie band that I’ve just never heard played out. Ever.

Which, given that they formed in 1992, and are from Wales, where I lived for twenty years until 2008 during which time I went to many, many Indie nights, and are renowned for having a bit of an obsession with the Ramones, is quite surprising

Here, then, are a couple of Christmas crackers from Helen Love. The first sounds like it should be a cover version, but isn’t, even if it does have a bit of M/A/R/R/S’ “Pump Up The Volume” chucked in for good measure (and it may just be my favourite Christmas record ever); the other most definitely is, and this time has a bit of ABBA’s “Super Trouper” lobbed in to up the kitsch levels:

Helen Love – Hark The Herald Angels

Helen Love – Merry Christmas (I Don’t Wanna Fight Tonight)

Bloomin’ marvellous, aren’t they? (Apologies the sound quality on the second one is so shonky.)

Oh go on then, you may as well have the original of that one too:

Ramones – Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want To Fight Tonight)

More soon.

I Am The Mouth

Bit of an open goal for me this week; having mentioned today’s tune in passing the other week when explaining the concept of this thread, at least two people mentioned they’d gone and listened to this one instead of the tune I’d posted. Cheers.

If “Step On” and “Kinky Afro” give you the opportunity to bless the dancefloor with your best Bez impression…

…then the darker, moodier, less played (hence it’s inclusion here) “Loose Fit” let’s you break out your louche Shaun Ryder moves:

Here you go. Enjoy.

Happy Mondays – Loose Fit

More soon and all that.

I Am The Mouth

So, it seems you all get what this thread is about; featuring long-lost indie classics, along with songs by acts which are often overlooked when it comes to your standard indie disco.

Here’s one of the songs that helped me form the idea, and ironically it stems from going to an Indie Disco.

When I lived in Cardiff, every now and again we would venture up to That London for a weekend; often that would involve going to a house party, more often than not it would involve a night out followed by a house party.

The nights out would generally be at one of two places: either The Monarch in Camden, or The Garage in Islington.

Today’s record relates to the latter. One night, around ten years ago, we arrived at The Garage stupidly early, pretty much the first punters to arrive. The DJ, clearly not really anticipating anyone being there, much less anyone actually wanting to dance at such an early stage of the evening, was playing the kind of stuff he liked but knew he could never get away with playing once the night was properly underway.

As I walked in, I could not believe my ears when I heard this record, which I’d never heard before, or since, played out, but which is an absolute gem of a tune:

Denim – Middle of the Road

As I entered, I felt a thrill which I’d never experienced before, an incredulous feeling of unexpected delight. They’re playing Denim? No, wait…they can’t be playing Denim, nobody ever plays Denim. But they are! Fuck me, they are! They’re definitely playing Denim!!

For the uninitiated, Denim are the band that perennially over-looked Indie mainstays Felt became; fronted by Lawrence and supported by The Glitter Band (minus you-know-who, thankfully) Middle of the Road is a glorious glam 70s stomp through a list of things that Lawrence doesn’t care for, building up to a glorious climax as the backing singers start to quote that famous song by the band with the same name as this song.

It’s so much better than I just described it.

Bafflingly, as with every other record Lawrence has released, this wasn’t a hit when it came out back in 1993; but make no bones about it, this was a pre-cursor to the whole Britpop scene, a vital record which seems to have been forgotten simply because it wasn’t by a band that went on to make it big.

Time to rectify that, folks. Pop your flares on and play it loud.

More soon.

I Am The Mouth

A new thing for Mondays, for as long as I manage to keep it going.

About 10 years or so ago, when I was still living in Cardiff, I had an idea for a sort-of Indie night that I planned on starting up.

I say planned, for that’s as far as I got. I had the concept, the records, just no venue and, as it turned out, not enough zip, or get up and go to actually make it happen.

The concept was this: as well as playing long-lost, forgotten about tunes, I’d play records – mostly Indie ones – that you didn’t normally hear getting played out, by acts that you would normally hear, just not the songs that would usually get played. Not necessarily album tracks, but less played singles.

So, for example: instead of Happy Mondays “Step On” or “Kinky Afro” – which always get played – I’d play “Lazyitis” or “Loose Fit”; rather than play The Stone Roses’ “Fools Gold” or “I Am The Resurrection“- which always get played – I’d play “Made of Stone” or “Elephant Stone”: great records you could dance to, but which usually got overlooked in favour of the more established floor-fillers.

My logic was this: there’s very little that Indie hipsters like more than being able to show off that they know some of the more obscure records from an established acts’ back catalogue. People would dance because they wouldn’t want anyone to think they didn’t know the tune being played, I thought.

The night was to be called “I Am The Mouth”, and because of the slightly prophetic name, the idea was that the decks would be hidden away behind a lectern, as if when DJ’ing I was preaching from it.

I tried to set up a Myspace page for it (which dates this, obviously), only to find that someone already had a page by the same name, which rather deflated me. Had someone else had exactly the same idea, and called it exactly the same thing??

I also sounded out my friends about the idea, and mostly they (told me that they) thought it was a great idea. I even used the word “demographic” when explaining it.

But then one friend said: “So, let me get this straight: you want to start an Indie night where you play records that nobody wants to dance to?”, which was a way of looking at it that hadn’t occurred to me.

And so, wind properly knocked out of my sails, the idea remained as just that: an idea. Done properly, I still think it has legs.

I mentioned it to a good friend of mine recently (Alright, G!), a recent convert to reading these pages (I don’t go out of my way to tell my friends I do this, as I don’t want them to feel obliged to read it. If they ask, however, I will happily bang on for hours about how much I love doing this, as I’m sure they will all wearily attest) who thought it was a brilliant idea, but he was rather drunk, so I’ll ask him again when he’s sober and see what he says then.

Me posting this counts as a copyright, doesn’t it?

And the name? Well, if you know you’re early 80s pop singles that never get played out, you’ll get the reference.

“Marco, Merrick, Terry Lee, Gary Tibbs and Yours Truly

From the Naughty North and the Sexy South

We’re all singing

And I Am The Mouth.”

Or, to put it another way, this:

 

Adam & The Ants – Ant Rap

More of this sort of nonsense soon.

PS -Prompted by a recent comment from Marie, I’ve been looking to find an alternative file sharing service to Zippyshare. As I’ve mentioned previously, I’ve never been very happy about being associated with a site where every time you click a link you’re swamped by pop-ups inviting you to converse with scantily clad ladies who just happen to be in your locality (apparently). And then lo and behold, The Robster over at Is This The Life? posted some links on a new service he has has been using for a few days. I’ve tested it from his blog, and got no pop ups etc., so hopefully it’ll work better for those of you who’ve had issues with Zippyshare. Feedback welcome. And cheers Robster!