Teenage Fanclub are about to spend two hours talking about the history of rock
- an exercise that will result in thrilling acknowledgements of the people who
turned them into would-be stars.
But it will also see as many names ignored as saluted, leaving the chaps lamenting the fact that they forgot to mention about 18 of their lifelong heroes.
Of course, to give this chat a slight ring of authenticity, the conversation should begin with Robert Johnson, Leadbelly or Blind Lemon Jefferson but, seeing as time is tight, we may as well begin this slapdash biography of the rock beast with...
'Whaaat?' scream the purists, 'No Chuck Berry, Gene Vincent or Carl Perkins?'
Sadly not. The conversation soon flits across the ocean, to the strange
electrified take on early rock 'n' roll that was pioneered by....
Norman: "He was into spiritualism, and claimed that 'Johnny Remember Me'
was written by a dead person through a medium (Meek's acquaintance Geoff Goddard).
He also thought that he'd found a talking cat, so he recorded it. There's a tape
of him and this guy in a graveyard in London: They ask this cat all these questions,
and it just goes meeow, but he thought it was speaking to him. He was completely
off his rocker. Really cool, mind you."
So now you know. We go on to examine the legacies the Everly Brothers, the entire Tamla Motown roster, the genius of Brian Wilson and the cataclysmic rupture in the transatlantic pop balance that was caused by...
Gerry: "I like The Creation. You never find them on 'Best Of The
Sixties' compilations because they were so underground - but they took what The
Who and The Kinks were doing in the mid-'60s, and because they were doing it
slightly later, they did it better. They did things in a psychedelic style,
but they had traditional song structures."
A-ha! The word 'psychedelic'. Gerry holds forth about how a lot of psych-rock
was merely the product of blues bores taking too many drugs (witness The
Doors), and how psychedelia's most inspiring product was the cross-pollinating
spirit that led The Byrds to flirt with country rock. Raymond interrupts with
a brief monologue about the eventual mutation of British hippies into
chest-beating apes (eg Black Sabbath), and we eventually fall into a series of
altercations about glam rock, reggae, disco, and stupid teenage crazes, the
highlights of which fall under...
Lengthy guffaws are prompted by this anecdote. Having regained their
composure, the Fannies are enticed into a dewy-eyed salute to the magic of...
Rejects and the Angelic Upstarts. The Buzzcocks were one of the best Punk bands:
they had the punk attitude, but they wrote great pop songs."
We then mull over why it all went a bit wrong. Sure, many of the crop of
post-punkers were cool, but it wasn't too long before Londoners were dressing
up as Highland clansmen and popularising the New Romantic palaver. It wouldn't
wash in Glasgow, however: anyone with any sense was camping out outside the
offices of Postcard Records and doffing their caps to...
Arf arf arf! The Fannies then enthuse about the lasting influence of Postcard
on Glasgow, the fact that Orange Juice spawned a whole host of second-rate
imitators who interpreted Edwyn Collins' love of Al Green as a call to make
crappy codsoul and be signed to cynical major labels, The Smiths (Brendan has
always been annoyed by Morrissey's voice; Raymond is a dyed-in-thewool-fan),
The Weather Prophets and...
Norman: "Felt were excellent. They started at the same time as the
Postcard thing. I first heard them on John Peel, and I thought they were
amazing. I went out and bought some records straight away. 'Belt' is a Felt
tribute song, played on a Yamaha QY-20 keyboard, which is the same size as a
video cassette. Brendan did most of it."
Next: The Membranes, early rap, and the Manchester-based insurrection that
desperate journalists called...
Ha ha! Underpinning the explosion of baggy music was the UK's sudden enthusiasm
for nightclubbing, Smiley T-shirts, and recreational drugs. The Fanclub
witnessed all this from the bars of Glasgow clubs and the sofas of friend's
flats, gaining masses of voyeuristic entertainment from the mushrooming of...
wearing bandanas and tie-dye shirts."
The Fannies go on to talk about the progress of the American underground, the
new breed of crusty troupes, 2 Unlimited, East 17, the Thompson Twins, The
Pastels...and then Norman is struck by the fact that he's committed countless
revisionist heresies. "We haven't mentioned Big Star," he half-sobs. "Or the
Flying Burrito Brothers. Christ, we haven't even mentioned Bob Dylan..."
The King (Creation CRECD 096) 1991
'Poor' would be a generous verdict to return on this. A collection of pointless
instrumentals and slightly less pointless vocal takes, the highlight was a faithful
but unilluminating cover of Madonna's 'Like a Virgin'. Assembled as a contractual
obligation filler for their US label, Matador (who, ironically, rejected it,
consequently to see it turn up in the States as an expensive import), The
King was far from fit to share a handle with Elvis. Now withdrawn.
Bandwagonesque (Creation CRECD 106) 1991
Grumpy old buggers like me think they'll never better 'Everything Flows" but
this second album 'proper' is a pretty good attempt at silencing doubters.
It's more carefully formed than its predecessor and, from pithy presentation
to cuts like 'The Concept', 'Star Sign', and, best of all, 'Alcoholiday',
sheds almost completely the shadow of Dinosaur Jr. while cementing their
stature not only as ace sound sculptors but also as songsmiths of
distinction. RG