Review: 'C87'

In mid-1986, the NME released a mail-order cassette mix of 22 samples from indie groups, several of whom (The Wedding Present, The Mighty Lemon Drops, Primal Scream, The Soup Dragons, etc.) would go on to bigger things. Last year, Cherry Red—that love-struck curator of eighties British indie—rereleased the influential C86 on CD and expanded it to include fifty additional like-minded artists.

Of course, 1986 was just one year in a lengthy and key pop era, so a fantasy follow up imagining what a C87 tape might have been is both logical and welcome. Like Cherry Red comps past, such as the expanded C86 and Scared to Get Happy, C87 shows how far beyond mere Smiths-worship late-eighties UK indie set its sites. Yes, there are a few Morrissey worshipers here, but there’s also The Sea Urchins’ sighing and swooning, The House of Love’s bluesy garage rock, The Bachelor Pad’s brain-busting Barrett psych, The Vaselines’ ear-bleeding bubblegum, The Inspiral Carpets’ lo-fi ambience, The Flatmates’ bouncing pop, I, Ludicrous’ straight-faced piss taking, etc.

All of those artists are featured on the gem of C87’s three discs. Its second disc moves in a somewhat more consistently mainstream pop direction (though it houses some truly standout tracks, such as Pop Will Eat Itself’s fierce “Sweet Sweet Pie”). Disc Three begins as an antidote to those slicker sounds with a full-wallow in dissonance and discordance. More adventurous listeners will welcome Dog Faced Hermans, Gaye Bikers on Acid, A Witness, and the rest as palette cleansers (in the same sense that lye is a palette cleanser). More melodically inclined listeners should not bale on C87, though, because beginning with 14 Iced Bears’ “Like a Dolphin”, Disc Three starts moving in more accessible territory again, and by Jesse Garon & The Desperadoes’ “I’m Up Here”, the set hits another lovely, jangly stride. Sometimes hard rocking, sometimes twee, sometimes pretty, sometimes skronky, sometimes Smithsy, C87 sums up the breadth of ’86/’87 British indie with Cherry Red’s inimitable knowledge of and sympathy for that era. You may not like it all, but you’re guaranteed to discover a lot you’ll love.

Review: 'Sharon Signs to Cherry Red: Independent Women 1979 – 1985'

In 1985, The Kamikaze Pilots released “Sharon Signs to Cherry Red”, a mild piss take aimed at all the aspiring artists who’ve shipped unsolicited and rather rough demo tapes to indie labels such as, well, Cherry Red. Thirty-plus years later, that very label (or at least its subsidiary RPM Records) is embracing the good-natured barb and even retroactively “signing” a multitude of artists like starry-eyed Sharon with a new compilation called Sharon Signs to Cherry Red: Independent Women 1979 – 1985. Well, Kamikazes, if all the aspiring artists who’d tried to get signed with a cheap demo were as good as the majority on this new comp even the slightest piss take would be bang out of order.

The liner notes tend to reference The Slits and The Raincoats a lot, but the styles are as diverse as can be—there’s Northern Soul, mod rock, garage rock, hard rock, psychedelia, reggae, jazz, punk, disco, folk, even big band (check out The Twinsets and The Shillelagh Sisters!)—but almost all of it sounds like it belongs on the same two discs because the synths, uniformly thick accents, and sparse arrangements brew the various tunes in the distinctively flavorful waters of early-eighties British indie pop.

The first disc is 100% filler-free, with Grab Grab the Haddock’s trippy “Nothing You Say…”, The Flatbackers’ slashing “Buzzz Going Round”, and The GTs’ deliriously catchy “Boys Have Feelings Too” all deserving to be singled out. Disc Two is less consistently spectacular, dominated by an odd split between more mainstream pop pieces that sound too polished for this collection (Tracie’s “The Boy Hairdresser” and A Craze’s cheesy bossa nova “Wearing Your Jumper”, for example) and acquired-taste experiments. Disc Two still has enough smashes— The Petticoats’ freaky “Normal”, Dee Walker’s “Jump Back” (which also found a worthy home on Cherry Red’s fabulous Millions Like Us: The Story of the Mod Revival box set), The Delmonas’ insane basher “Woa’ Now”, Eleanor Rigby’s tough power popper “I Want to Sleep with You”— to warrant multiple spins.

Review: Reissue of The Monochrome Set's 'The Lost Weekend'

The Monochrome Set were still with Cherry Red when they cut what would be the final album of the first part of their career. Although the recordings were made on Cherry Red’s dime in 1983, the Warner Brothers subsidiary Blanco y Negro would not release the album until 1985. By that point, The Monochrome Set seemed to be winding down anyway, not doing much of anything in 1984. Those were not happy times for The Monochrome Set, though the LP released as The Lost Weekend is pretty jolly. The band was understandably frustrated by how their new label bungled the timing of their first single on it. “Jacob’s Ladder” was getting good radio play, but since the single was not in shops yet, the promotional engine pooped out before anyone could buy it. This is one of the odder points of the Lost Weekend story, since “Jacob’s Ladder”—a trivial fusion of Brit-Pop and gospel—hardly seems like the stuff hits are made of. The band would have done well to relinquish hopes for commercial success and keep the song’s original lyrics, which bandleader Bid says described intercourse in pornographic detail. So the track ends up sounding like a parody that never gets around to the joke.

Fortunately, The Monochrome Set’s unique humor is present throughout much of the rest of The Lost Weekend. Their pop craft is strong too, with wry nods to reggae (“Sugar Plum”), tango (“Cargo”), sixties dance craze discs (“The Twitch”, “Boom Boom”), fifties ballads (the hilarious “Letter from Viola”, which recounts the true story of the unflattering Mohawk haircut that cost guitarist James Foster his girlfriend), and psychedelia (the enchanting “Cowboy Country”).

The Lost Weekend ultimately landed back with Cherry Red, which put out an extended edition of the album in 2009. The bonus tracks are mostly instrumental B-sides, though “Le Boom Boom” is notable for being a superior mix (with added female vocals) of the LP’s “Boom Boom”. “Yo Ho Ho” is notable for being the only track The Monochrome Set recorded specifically for Blanco y Negro and for sounding suspiciously like John Cale’s “Ghost Ship”. Mat Smyth’s quiet remastering requires the listener to really crank it up. That’s a nice consideration in an age when too few engineers trust listeners to work the volume knobs on their stereos. Cherry Red has just reissued its 2009 edition of The Lost Weekend.