The other night on BBC2 they had a bit of a Manchester love in; they showed the movie “Spike Island”, which I’ve been meaning to watch on Netflix for absolutely ages (and still haven’t got round to), followed by one of those shows where they play a load of clips of bands performing in the BBC studios with a linking theme, and this time it was, surprise surprise, bands from Manchester.
I love this kind of show, partly because I bloody love a theme linking a bunch of songs together, even if it is something as broad as “From Manchester” or “Songs with Swear Words In Them” (who’d be stupid enough to put together a load of songs like that, eh?), but also because I love a good wander down memory lane and to be reminded of the odd forgotten gem.
Anyway, this particular programme contained all of the usual suspects: Joy Dvision, Buzzcocks, The Smiths, etc. etc. etc.
And then there was this, by a band I had always assumed were from Philadelphia, or at the very least America. Nope, Mancs through and through:
Here’s the clip they used on the show too, which I include partly to show their dress sense and the dance steps were what informed my mistaken belief they were from Philly, but mostly so I can make a cheap joke about how the lead singer came up with the title following a conversation about how he wished someone would invent contact lenses so he didn’t have to wear those milk-bottles, as we used to call them when I was a kid, anymore.