What are the chances to meet half of The Bats in Hamburg? What if that half is also one half of Minisnap? Do the chances get thinner if you are DJing in a small bar a couple of blocks away from the Reeperbahn, the red light district? Bear in mind, The Bats live in far away Christchurch, New Zealand. I live in Miami. Right, the probabilities are almost down to zero.

I met Kaye and Paul on a chilly Wednesday Hamburger night. I have just finished my set and I headed to the farthest room. I left the decks on good hands: Peter from Coast is Clear. And while I was walking where my friends were, Jens popped up. “I want you to meet someone”. And I see these two familiar faces having a beer. It was Kaye Woodward and Paul Kean! Two of my heroes! The kiwi-pop legends, the Flying Nun blueprints, the ones that made a song as monumental as Claudine. They were there and I was saying hello. A thrilling moment. So unexpected.

I must have been so nervous that I couldn’t remember Robert Scott’s first name. I could only remember the Scott part. We talked. We laughed. I told them how big of a fan I was. That I had uploaded to Youtube the “Too Much” video and how much I loved their songs, from Made Up in Blue to Block of Wood. But the conversation was also about Minisnap. I have really liked what I had heard from their new band on myspace. I haven’t got around getting the Bounce Around album yet. But I remember playing Crooked Mile at the highest volume possible at home making the windows shake. Somehow we were talking about releasing a Minisnap 7″ in the future. I was so honored just by talking about it, even if it didn’t happen. Just the idea of releasing these heroes of mine on plastic was too much of a dream!

Waking up didn’t seem like an option. Friday night I was back in Hamburg after a day in Berlin. I remember being happy, drunk, chanting and shouting Claudine as loud as I could. Stomping the dancefloor, while Jens and Marco were playing it on the decks at their Hit the North party. On my last night in the city, the Grüner Jäger club was pounding like Paul Kean’s bass. My heart was pounding too. And it was incredible.

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Listen
Minisnap – Whistler

Thanks to Steve King for the interview!

++ You only released the “That’s Where Caroline Lives” single. With such a strong debut, why didn’t The Candy Darlings release any more songs?

– Well basically, Little Stu, who ran Teatime Records (and was the singer in Mousefolk) offered to release a single, which he did and then didn’t offer to do another one – and we weren’t exactly inundated with other offers. Essentially, being in a band was fun for us and I don’t think we ever viewed it as having any particluar longevity but we really wanted to make a record – mainly just to have something tangible to prove we had actually existed. I remember just staring at the sleeve (we were adamant with Stu that we wanted a proper sleeve rather than a plastic bag) – amazed that we’d actually made this thing. And when it got reviewed in the NME (they thought it was rubbish – particlulary my singing) that was all we were really after. After that, we didn’t really have the impetus to chase after a follow-up, though if anyone had offered, I’m sure we’d have taken them up on it.

++ It also strikes me that the band formed in 1985 and the debut didn’t come out till 1990. Why was that? What happened in between those years?

To be honest, it took us five years to achieve the required basic level of competence on our chosen instruments. In between, we played the odd gig, recorded 4 track demo tapes (largely for our own amusement) and made each other laugh.

++ How did the band start? I read that there were 4 Candy Darlings in the beginning.

We were friends at the same school (a posh one in Bristol) who all liked the same sort of music. If I may be permitted a digression here, I still remember my first interaction with Dom. In my first year at school, I loved Adam and the Ants and, in the custom of the day, had drawn a Warrior Ant logo on my school folder. This attracted Dom’s attention and (much to his evident delight) afforded him the opportunity to belittle the fact that I was unaware that the Ants had actually released another album before Kings of the Wild Frontier. This competitive musical one-upmanship did, however, set the tone for our entire 25 (and counting) year realtionship.

Anyway, the 4 of us (including another friend, Jerry) just decided we’d form a band and sort of fell into roles by default. Dom actually had a guitar on which he has mastered at least 4 chords – so he was the guitarist. Chris also had a guitar, on which he hadn’t mastered any chords – so he played the fattest string as a bass. I’m not sure how Jerry ended up being the drummer as I think we clubbed together for a second-hand snare but he could make a reasonable fist of keeping time. I had nothing and I couldn’t really sing but I was their mate so I was in. In the beginning, Dom and I both “sang” but I was a bit of a spare part really. In fact, in the middle of the first recording we made of ourselves, we captured Dom’s mum asking the tricky question, “so what do you do Steve?”. Anyway, we were a ‘band’ and that’s all we cared about. We lost Jerry when we all left school. Dom, Chris and I all kept in contact but, for some reason, Jerry didn’t. So we pooled our grant cheques and bought a drum machine.

++ Where does the name Candy Darlings come from?

We loved the Velvet Underground and extensive background reading lead us to Candy Darling. It also had the word ‘Candy’ in it, which fitted nicely with the JAMC orthodoxy of the mid-eighties.

++ During those years Bristol had become home of Sarah. How important was the influence of the label on the city scene? Was it inspiring at all for you?

We all bought the early records on Sarah but a greater influence on what actually went on in Bristol was probably Subway. Martin Whitehead and Rocker were much more active in terms of organising things and putting bands on. In the end, records are great but actually having somewhere to go, drink and watch bands play was much more fun than sitting at home and playing 7″s. The first Brighter single was the end of religiously buying Sarah records for me. I remember playing it and just thinking that they were a parody of a generic Sarah band – so that was it, apart from Orchids records (because the Orchids were great).

++ Did you have any favourite venue in town?

The Tropic Club. It was a fantastic place, legendary on the Bristol indie scene. we had many great nights drinking, dancing and (in Dom’s case at least) puking in there. Also the place where we played our first real gig – supporting the Fizzbombs.

++ Did you play many gigs? Which bands were your favourites that you played with?

Given that we weren’t exactly proficient musicians (and that we had to re-load the drum machine by cassette after every 4 songs) playing live was something of a fraught affair and we rarely ventured beyond the Bristol borders (and our sets never lasted more than 8 songs). Our one ‘tour’ consisted of two consecutive nights supporting Mousefolk in Nottingham and Goole. Nottingham was kinda OK, but Chris wanted to get back to Reading University the next day to study for an exam so wasn’t drinking, whilst Dom and I were, which made our performance somewhat disjointed (and probably explains why Chris got a good degree and is now Head of Money at a major high street bank and Dom and I didn’t and aren’t). Whilst Chris headed back down the motorway to further his academic career, Dom, myself and all of Mousefolk stayed at the drummer (I think) out of the Fat Tulips’ parents’ house – where I rather let myself down by making some lewd remarks about sex involving the wearing of a Mousefolk t-shirt to the drummer’s girlfriend who may, or may not, also have been in the Fat Tulips but, in any event, was wearing a Mousefolk t-shirt. The next day we headed up to Goole, Dom and I showing Mousefolk’s bass player Phil the basslines to a handful of our songs in the back of the Transit van we were all travelling in. I believe that our performances that night constituted the first (and probably the last) indie-pop gig staged at the Violent Bikers Arms in Goole. Sparsely furnished and brightly lit, it didn’t give off the warmest of vibes nor did our first interaction with the propriator – “how long do you play for?” he demanded. “What’s normal?” we queried. “Most bands hold down about 2 hours” he informed us. “Oh dear”, we thought. In front of the small, yet menacing collection of bikers and psychotic locals that constitued our audience that night, calling ourselves the Candy Darlings suddenly felt ineffably twee, and asking for a punch in the face, so we announced ourselves as “Axe of Fury”, played the 4 songs we’d taught Phil and an endurance testing 10 minute version of Pablo Picasso and ran for the door.

++ You were rejected by Sarah for being too challenging and avant-garde. That’s unbelievable!! I think your music would have perfectly fitted in their catalog. How did this happen? Maybe you didn’t send Caroline to them?

Unfortunately, we did send Caroline to them. In fact we sent them pretty much everything we recorded and our rejection by Sarah was the most painful chapter in the Candy Darlings story. Matt and Clare had always been gently encouraging, always writing back in response to our tapes (thinking about it now, this must have been such a pain for them as every pointless little indie band in the country – and I include ourselves in this – must’ve been raining tapes in on them) saying mildly positive things but without actually saying “and we’d like you to release a record on our prestigious label, please”. We held a band meeting wherein it was decided that we would (I will swear to this day that I was against it but was out-voted) write and ask them straight if they would, please, put out a Candy Darlings single. No, it turned out, they wouldn’t. In the end, they didn’t actually think we were that good.

++ Your only single came out on a Bristol label, Teatime Records, home of great acts like Mousefolk and The Driscolls. How did your songs end up being released by them? How many records were pressed? Where was it recorded? The quality is much better than the other songs I’ve heard from you (especially the two other ones that were released on tape compilations).

Fortunately little Stu wanted to branch out from just releasing Mousefolk records and offered to release one of ours. We recorded it at a proper studio in 2 days – the first time we’d ever been in one and we didn’t really know what we were doing or how to ask for the sounds we wanted. We all thought the songs sounded OK but Chris’ bass got completely lost in the mix. 1000 were pressed and I think most of them sold (though at least a few were made into handy ash-trays). Everything else we recorded was for our own amusement on a variety of cheap 4-track cassette machines.

Interesting fact: my brother James was briefly a member of the Driscolls as second guitarist. See him in action on You Tube (search “Driscolls Brittle Beautiful”) – he’s the one with the floppy fringe.

++ Who is the girl doing backing vocals on Caroline? Who wrote the songs usually in the Candy Darlings? I really enjoy the lyrics, and the guitars on the single are precious!

The girl doing the backing vocals on Caroline is, actually, Caroline – who was Chris’ girlfriend at the time. The initial basis of a song was usually written by either Dom or I and then we worked it up into something passable between the 3 of us. I think I may have mean-spiritedly wanted “Caroline” credited to just me on the record but conceded to a more democratic “King, Hall, Strange”. I don’t think Coldplay are planning a cover version so we won’t have to worry about arguing over royalties. Actually, I wanted ‘Bright New Morning’ to be the a-side but, again, I got out-voted (looking back, I seemed to get out-voted a lot).

++ What were you doing back then? were you pop fans back then? Did you follow any bands? maybe wrote a zine? going to university?

We were doing school and university. We liked a lot of bands but I recall that, for some reason, we all had a particular fondness for the Three Johns.

++ The last years of the Candy Darlings see the band changing their musical direction towards indie-dance. Why was the main reason for that? Did you all feel comfortable making that music?

This was all Dom’s idea (I was probaly out-voted again somewhere along the line). It was decided that we needed a new singer (don’t think I was even permitted a vote on that one) and that we needed to get hip to that funky drummer back beat. We quite enjoyed doing it but when Dom left to move to London, Chris and I formed a new line-up and dropped the ‘dance element’ like a sack of sh!t.

++ On Last.fm there are many unreleased songs, many of them great jangle tracks. Will you ever release them? A retrospective album is due!

I don’t think the world is clamouring for a Candy Darlings retrospective. No-one’s ever shown any interest in doing one and, as you point out, most of the recordings (other than the single) are really low-fi as they were recorded on cassette.

++ How do you see the indiepop scene today? Any big differences to the one of the late 80s? Any similarities?

To be honest, I don’t think any of us are really aware of that scene these days. I go to the very occasional gig when I’m up in London but we’ve all got families these days and that’s where all the time goes. So I can’t really comment on any differences but I do know that the scene in the late eighties was loads of fun and that the 3 of us had such a laugh being in the Candy Darlings. That’s really my over-riding memory of being in the band – p!ssing myself laughing with my two best mates.

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Listen
Candy Darlings – That’s Where Caroline Lives

Thanks to Torquil MacLeod for the interview!

++ On Twee.net it lists that you released a 7″ called Arse Parsley Correcto. It even says Stephen Pastel appears on the B side! I’ve never heard of it or even come across with it. In any other Reserve discography it doesn’t appear. Does this really exist?

Mmm, yes, Arse Parsley Correcto.   What can I say?  It may exist, in much the same way as Bigfoot may exist.  Alternatively, it may have its roots in a late-night visit to an internet cafe after one cocktail too many in a small mountain town in Panama in 2000.  I’m afraid that I couldn’t possibly say.

++ How did the band meet up? As far as I know Reserve was mainly a solo project when it started, right?

Well I started writing songs in that sort of style, with the idea of putting a band together, in 1985.  I’d been playing in other bands dating back to 1979, but this was my first stab at being principal songwriter and singer.  Johnny Johnson was looking for musicians at the same time to form what would end up being the Siddeleys – I was hanging out with her and helping get her songs down on tape – so I used the same methods to get people for my band: ads in the Rough Trade shop in Notting Hill and approaching people who looked right at gigs.  So Reserve was never meant to be a solo project, although obviously a lot of it involved me sitting at home writing and recording songs.  The first couple of line-ups I assembled were pretty hopeless, but then I bumped into Ian Gregg at a Microdisney gig and Simon Armstrong at a 1000 Violins gig and recruited them on guitar and bass respectively.  I also stumbled across Phil Powell somewhere and persuaded him to hit a couple of drums.  So that was the first line-up to perform in public.

++ The first show was supporting The Wishing Stones in 1986. What memories bring that gig to you?

That was in a room above a pub in King’s Cross in London.  I think it was in September.  I remember it as being a bit of a shambles, but a lot of the bands around then were a bit of a shambles – more to do with a lack of talent than a deliberate aesthetic.  I was just singing at this stage, not playing guitar as well, and I remember feeling rather naked without a guitar to hide behind.  The audience seemed quite enthusiastic, but then most of them were our friends.  A tape did exist but its whereabouts now is anybody’s guess.

++ After that gig two of the members left Reserve to form The James Dean Driving Experience. Why did this happen? Was it a hard decision to keep playing under the name Reserve?

Well, that’s not quite how it happened.  I think that line-up played another couple of gigs before Ian announced that he was leaving to form the James Dean Driving Experience.  This was about two days before we were due to go into the studio to record a demo.  I was a bit pissed off to be honest, but mainly because Ian had come up with a better name for his band than I had for mine.  So Simon, Phil and I went off to the studio and I played guitar instead of Ian.  Phil left to join Ian in the JDDE after I asked him if he could learn to play drums properly.  So Simon brought his multi-talented Bob bandmate Richard Blackborow in to play drums (properly) and that line-up lasted for nearly a year.  As for keeping the name Reserve, it was still me singing my songs, so as far as I was concerned it was still Reserve.  Simon and Richard had their own band which was, naturally, their first priority, but it was great having them along for the ride.

++ Oh yeah, why did you call the band “Reserve”?

Thinking up band names can be such a pain.  I knew I didn’t want a name that began with ‘The’.  At one point Captain Lust & The Pirate Women was a possibility – I saw that outside a porno cinema at Piccadilly Circus.  But it didn’t seem quite right for the indie ’scene’.  I’m not sure where Reserve came from – I think I quite liked the ambiguity of ‘reserve’ as in holding something back and ‘reserve’ as in a place where something precious or rare is kept.  To be honest I think it’s a bit of a naff name.  Oh well.

++ Back to 1987, the band now counts with Richard from Bob and the flexi “The Sun Slid Down Behind the Tower” is released! That’s a fantastic song Torquil! And I have to say that this is my favourite version of it. Even more than the polished version on the 12″. How did you come up with such a good tune, full of ramshackling guitars and and that solo (it’s glorious! isn’t it?)!!!? Is it the Big Ben tower by the way?

Wow!  Thanks for your enthusiasm – it’s much appreciated.  The version on the flexi is from a session recorded at the Bob studio out in the Somerset countryside in April 1987, which is probably my favourite of the five Reserve sessions that exist.  We recorded seven songs – Simon on bass and vocals, Richard on drums and vocals and me on guitar and vocals.  The arrangement of ‘The Sun Slid Down Behind The Tower’ is pretty much identical to the home demo which I’d recorded either late ‘86 or early ‘87, including the guitar solo which I wanted to have that West Coast, Byrds sort of feel.  As regards how I came up with it, it’s just that thing of messing around with a guitar at home, coming up with some chords that sound good, humming a tune over the top and suddenly there’s the song.  You record it, listen to it and you’re not quite sure where it all came from.  I’m singing about the tower of All Saints Church in Notting Hill – I spent several afternoons sitting on a nearby roof in the summer of 1984 in a ‘cheap wine and lipstick haze’.

++ Where you a fan of the Sha La La label before releasing the flexi? How did this release happen? What did Matt told to you?

To be honest I’d never heard of Sha La La before the flexi came out.  I was never much of a fan of flexis – they seemed so disposable and always sounded crap.  Having said that, it was obviously great to have something released and we even got a very enthusiastic review in a magazine called Record Mirror  with a picture and everything, just below a piece about the first single by a band called The Stone Roses.  I wonder what happened to them.  I never had any contact with Matt, all the business was conducted by the mighty David Payne of Troutfishing In Leytonstone fame.  From what I gather, Matt didn’t like The Siddeleys or Reserve and was very reluctant to release the flexi in the first place which is why there were only 1000 pressed compared to 2000 for all the other Sha La La releases.  Which is great because it means it’s rarer and worth more than any of the others.  Thanks Matt.

++ This flexi was released along the “Troutfishing in Leytonstone” fanzine. How involved were you in the fanzine culture?

I loved fanzines.  Troutfishing In Leytonstone was a particularly fine one, but I also have fond memories of Rumbledethump which was written by Sharon from the Hobgoblins and The Legend’s fanzine (can’t remember what it was called).  There was something genuinely exciting about these little bits of paper which were soaked with love and enthusiasm.  I have to confess that I myself produced a fanzine with Johnny Johnson.  It was called Blah de Blah and was absolute rubbish.  There wasn’t a single interview in it, just blasts of ill-informed opinion, a few pictures stolen from kids’ magazines and a very poor short story (mine).  In its favour, it was printed in three colours – white, red and green – which was probably the best thing about it.  It was the result of a Faustian pact with the government – we got paid for a year to produce the shoddiest fanzine I’ve ever seen.  I blame Thatcher.

++ Did it ever go through your mind that 20 years from then, all this music will be almost legendary? Did you feel there was a scene happening at the time?

Yes, there was a real sense of scene.  Certainly in London anyway.  I was going to about three gigs a week and seeing the same people there – it was great.  Much fun was had.  Having said that, I think some people were getting a bit too overexcited about the importance of what was happening and have subsequently mythologised it to a faintly ridiculous degree.  At the time there was this whole ‘once every decade’ notion – in 1957 rock and roll had exploded, 1967 was the summer of love, 1977 saw punk’s bleak winter…  So there was this bunch of badly dressed kids who couldn’t dance and thought that Morrissey was some kind of Messiah who decided that a handful of bands who couldn’t play very well and no one had heard of were the equivalent in 1987.  Yes, it was a breakthrough year, but in house music, not British indiepop.

++ Two Hearts Beat in a Hole. Your 12″ on Sombrero, that sells for very high prices on eBay! Was this single the biggest highlight of Reserve? Any anecdotes while recording this record?

It’s crazy isn’t it?  People are paying $100+ for this little piece of vinyl.  There are 2000 of them out there so if you want one you can probably get one.  I lost mine so I had to steal back the one I’d given to my mum.  Obviously it was absolutely thrilling to finally have a proper record released.  I would wander down to the Virgin Megastore in London’s Oxford Street and gaze with wonder at the Reserve section, nestling between REO Speedwagon and Revolting Cocks.  What more could a boy want?  As for the record itself – hmmmmmm.  As I said earlier, the best stuff we ever recorded was in the beautiful surroundings of Richard Blackborow’s 8 track studio in the picturesque village of Banwell in the weird and wonderful county of Somerset.  Going into a 16 track studio situated in an industrial estate in west London was a bit of a different matter.  By this time the line-up of the band had changed completely – me: guitar and vocals, Jason Ellis: bass and vocals, Michael Harris: guitar and vocals, Jonathan Sim: drums.  Simon and Richard had made it clear that, much as they enjoyed playing music with me, they really had to concentrate all their energies on Bob.  To their great credit they carried on playing in Reserve until I’d found replacements.  Jonathan came in first towards the end of 1987.  At this stage David Payne had temporarily joined the band, playing a rather handsome Hohner semi-acoustic.  It was thanks to Alan Kingdom from the Siddeleys that Jason and Michael came on board.  He was sharing a house with them and suggested that they could be what I was looking for.  They certainly were.  I think that playing with Jonathan, Jason and Michael was the most fun I’ve ever had playing with other musicians.  Anyway, back to June 1988 and Triple X Studios.  We were recording an EP to be released on David Payne’s Sombrero Records label.  Initially ‘Cut You Down’ was going to be the A side, but after recording some demos in October 1987 I decided that ‘Two Hearts Beat In A Hole’ sounded stronger.  The record was produced by Steve Parker who I’d known for several years and worked with before.  He’d worked with The Fall, Wire and Microdisney among many others.  He was mixing some songs for the Rolling Stones when we recorded the single and was generous enough to take three days off and lend us his services for free.   So what could possibly go wrong?  Pretty much everything.  I didn’t know what I wanted the record to sound like.  Or, at least, not in a way that I could communicate to Steve.  He did the best that he could, but I think that the result sounds puny and antiseptic.  ‘Two Hearts Beat In A Hole’ wasn’t a good choice for the A side – it doesn’t have a proper chorus or anything resembling a hook.  The vocals are feeble and underpowered throughout the record.  Guitars sound awful – the guitar solo on the A side is a Telecaster going through a Marshall stack but it sounds like a wasp farting in a jar.  Again, I have to say that none of this is Steve’s fault – this is the man who produced ‘How I Wrote Elastic Man’ – I simply didn’t have a sufficiently articulate idea of how I wanted the record to sound, or sufficient studio experience to impose any character on the result.  But, hey, it got played by John Peel, so who cares?

++ How did a guitar pop band managed to live in London during those years? Did gigs pay good or did you had to have different jobs?

Without going into a lengthy exposition of British economic policy in the 1980s,  suffice to say that the Thatcher government decided that the best way to spend the once-in-a-lifetime revenue from British oil was to pay a record amount of people not to work.  While this brought real hardship to countless families who had depended on coal, steel and shipbuilding for their livelihoods, for feckless young twats like myself who just wanted to stay in bed till lunchtime and strum a guitar, it meant that  British taxpayers were co-opted into subsidising some very average indie bands for a decade.  Once again, I blame Thatcher.  Gigs paid very badly – the low point of what I laughingly refer to as my musical career occurred downstairs at the Clarendon Ballroom in Hammersmith when I was paid 20 pence (about 30 cents) to split between the four of us.  It would have been marginally less insulting not to have been paid at all.  Needless to say, I pocketed the money and said nothing to the others.

++ What was your favorite spot in London during those years? Were would you see the Reserve gang hanging out a Saturday night?

As I didn’t have a job, life was one long weekend and every night was Saturday night.  Bay 63 in Notting Hill had loads of great bands on.  The Enterprise in Camden Town.  The White Horse in Brixton. Some other places which I can’t remember the names of.  Essentially I went to loads of gigs.  And when I wasn’t at gigs I was up to all sorts of capers with Simon and Richard in Finsbury Park (the area of north London, not the actual park).  I blame the cheap sherry.  And Thatcher.

++ You recorded demos for a second single. Will they ever pop up in some kind of form? Why wasn’t that single released? I can’t believe that no label was interested back then! Was Butcher’s Daughter part of that demo?

Yes, ‘Butcher’s Daughter’ was supposed to be the A side of our second single. If you want to know what it sounds like you can find it on The Sound of Leamington Spa Vol 2.   We recorded the three songs we had lined up for the next record at Grant Lyons’s studio in Brighton.  He’d already released a version of ‘Last Train Home’ on his Hoopla  compilation.  The other two songs were ‘What People Say’ and ‘Postcard From Paradise’.  Sombrero had kind of folded by this stage, so I sent the demo round to some other labels but there wasn’t any interest.  In retrospect, I think the band might have been more successful if we’d had a manager because I really hated that side of it – phoning round to get gigs and that sort of thing.  But, y’know, I don’t think the destiny of Western cultural history has been too badly derailed by the failure of Reserve to become an over-arching, global force.

++ Then the band split up. What happened? What did Torquil MacLeod do during those years before forming The Atom Miksa Reservation?

OK, so it’s 1990.  No one’s interested in releasing ‘Butcher’s Daughter’ and I’ve moved from London down to Brighton so that I can carry on being a drain on the state’s  resources while watching the tide go in and out.  I did manage to drag myself back up to London for the occasional rehearsal and gig up until the summer, but then it kind of fizzled out.  It was exactly how I didn’t want the band to end, but that’s the way things go, I guess.   That same year I started working in radio down in Brighton and by 1993 I was a radio producer at the BBC in London.  And that, dear reader, is what I’ve been doing ever since.  I won the Sony Gold award for Best Speech Radio Programme of the year in May 2008 – hoorah for me!  Of course, music being like some kind of congenital disease, I carried on making sounds in the back room, like some weird, etiolated plant, in the intervening years.  And then, in the summer of 2007, I treated myself to a 16 track digital workstation and discovered this curious thing on the internet called MySpace and that’s how The Atom Miksa Reservation came into being.  Through the wonders of technology it transpires that there are a handful of people around the world who quite like what  I’m doing, which, frankly, makes it all worthwhile.

++ Anything else you’d like to say to the popkids out there?

Ummm…music is a truly wonderful thing.  It’s been there for me ever since Bowie,T.Rex, Slade and the Sweet burst upon my consciousness in the early 70s.  It still has the power to move me, to astonish me and to comfort me…and make me dance round the kitchen like someone demented.  The notion that at some point in my life I may have made a piece of music which has made just one person out there feel a little bit better for 3 minutes in their life is a very humbling thought.   Oh, and Roque, I think what you’re doing with Cloudberry is fantastic and I’m enormously touched and grateful for your support.  Thanks.

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Listen

Reserve – The Sun Slid Down Behind the Tower (flexi version)

I find Sunday nights the best time to listen to music, especially vinyl. I rip them to mp3s, clean them a bit, there are no hurries. I have a beer. I have some pizza. I turn off the cell phone. A chess game against Emma, which for unknown reasons ends up as a draw. Around 7:30 p.m. I have my senses bright and acute. And when I play this song, it comes drilling through my brain. What a wonderful noise I say.

Today being noisy is the status quo. Especially if you come from the Pitchfork confetti-plumped Brooklyn. I wonder if the hipsters would rejoice if they listen this wonderful ramshackling, noisy and dreamy band. Most probably they won’t. This is too pure for them, they need some music critic filtering, they need some artsy haircut, they need some comfort zone, tell them that it is the RIGHT thing to like.

I wonder what happened to this band. Their first 7″ was Grip / Frances and was released on the Fluff label. If my memory doesn’t play tricks on me, the Leicester label released the first Boyracer 7″. Also they released Hood and a band I haven’t heard but always been curious about, Liechtenstein Girls. I’m pretty sure there was a split flexi with Boyracer and Hula Hoop also. More info, of course, would be appreciated. The insert of the single doesn’t give that much information either:

honey one is grip and frances. the players are stuart on skins, neil on strings and gogs on a fuzzy lump of wood. seagate studios housed the noise, stuart and chris processed it, we re-invented it. thanks to the foreman, paedo strangetrouser and the ones who haven’t loved or loved us. this vice will not release until I release myself and as soon as I can do that you’ll be free as well. you forgot you were an atheist. stay beautiful norm. bee.

Their second single appeared on Lust Recordings (home of the Lavender Faction and St. James Infirmary). It was a 7″ with a giraffe on the cover. It was a four track EP that included the songs Sunrise, Stunned, Happy Sunday Stories and Ignite. I still haven’t got around to get or listen this one.

Twee.net doesn’t list their third release. It was another 7″ and it was released on Fluff Records again. This one included the songs Demand Better Protection and Cradle. This release seems to be the rarest one to find. And they also contributed, with a cover version of James’ “Come Home”, on the tape compilation Bobby Stokes Salutes The Fall Of Manchester. This was released on  the exquisite Ambition Records.

And I believe this is it. I ask to the whole wide web, is there anyone out there?

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Listen

Aspidistra – Grip

Thanks to Alan Fairnie for the interview!

* Alan: Just a short disclaimer – these are my thoughts on the whole thing – Paul and Ian would probably have a different take on it.

++ The band started in 1985 and lasted till 1993, right? How did it start? How did you meet Ian? Why was the main reason for you to have a band with a who gives a fuck attitude? I guess Scunthorpe wasn’t much of a help?

We’d always been into independent music, following bands who weren’t the mainstream and I guess that inspired us to pick up guitars, make a noise, generally try something. You have to remember that the mid to late 1980s was about the difference between independent music and mainstream stuff, there certainly wasn’t the crossover at that time. So labels like Rough Trade, Beggars Banquet and Creation seemed to be offering an alternative. I was into the usual fayre, The Smiths, James, The Fall [actually we both liked them] and my brother was coming at it from a more punk side, he was into the Birthday Party, The Cure, JAMC and stuff. We just decided that one year we wanted a bass guitar and a six string one – luckily our parents managed to get them – real basic ones out of a catalogue – but that was the catalyst for it. I also remember being really adamant that I wouldn’t learn to play any cover versions – that sounds a bit lame now – but I was an opinionated youth.

++ Was it your first band? Which bands influenced The Williams you’d say?

To be honest it wasn’t, we had a band called ‘The Upstairs Room’ for a little bit – it was all new order/ Bunnymen/ Cure influenced – it was terrible really – but out of that merged The Williams. I ‘d got friendly with a mate from school [Ian Cummings] who was into the same stuff as me and he had a bass guitar, so Paul [my brother] got hold of a cheap drum kit and we started putting sounds together. I guess by this time we had decided that we wanted to try and play some gigs and stuff. We were also part of a wider indie scene that congregated around the Scunthorpe Baths Hall and Bentleys, a local public house. So what was influencing us at that time, the usual stuff The Smiths, JAMC, The Fall, sixties stuff like the Bryds and the Stones. There was the indie scene itself as well, flexis from Sha La La and the other fanzines at the time, Lazy records artists like the valentines and the primitives. It was all very tribal, you know you can’t like the flatmates etc and our loyalties ran very deep at the time. I put it down to the innocence of youth, Paul puts it down to me just being a prick.

++ I love the idea of stand up drums. If I ever had a band I would have the same, it seems more energetic, more fun, with much more attitude, also it always reminds me The Shop Assistants. Why did you go that way? Any special reason?

Stand up drums was Paul’s thing, obviously all indie kids were required to watch early Psychocandy JAMC performances with Gillespie giving it large on the two piece and again we all had the velvets first album, Mo Tucker being an idol an all that. However, I actually think it was because before we had a kit we borrowed a snare drum, so Paul just improvised with that and some cardboard boxes. We had heard that Buddy Holly used to record like that somewhere. We tried working with a full kit but it was a right hassle to get to rehearsal spaces with it all – so it was kept to minimum. He did add a cymbal at some point. I do remember when the scream first saw us at the Hull Adelphi that Bobby thought Paul was one of the coolest drummers he’d ever seen with two drums. He could get some rhythm going – used to end up blistered after every gig. And yes I guess it did have that anti-muso thing going on. Again at that time in our local music shop you could pick up a free paper about the music scene and it was all interviews with fucking metal heads, gutarists in bands called ‘It Bites’ and drummers with twenty five piece kits, we were both anti all that and basic chancers – it was the attitude that kept us going. We weren’t liked. Or at least we wanted to be disliked – I think our music helped in that respect. It was basic at the beginning.

++ What was it like to have a band back then? Did you feel there was a guitar pop, c86, community happening, or was it more of a myth we have today?

C86 – I’m not sure we even remember it coming out with the NME to be honest. I was a fanzine writer – inspired by the great and the good – so I knew of these emerging indie bands and there were some excellent ones. But whether they should be seen as a scene is an odd one – we wanted authentic music – they had things in common. We didn’t want to be pop stars [that sadly came later] There was just a network of places to play and people with a common philosophy. I mean to me, and I can’t speak for the rest of these bands or even the members of my band, but it was about an anti-capitalism thing. I was political – I hated the way music had become homogenised and generic – it’s naïve but at that time I thought I was doing something to challenge that. I remember seeing McCarthy and thinking that it was possible to do both. Didn’t impact on our music – or lyrics – but it was there in spirit. Having a band back then is the same as having a band right now – it feels like you can take any fucker on – we were an army- you know what I mean. We’d get into scrapes just because we felt were right about stuff. It was possibilities – it always is when you’re growing up in a small town.

++ Your first gig happened in 1987, 2 years after formed. What are your memories from that August 1987? Who did you play with?

Our first gig was a three song set at the local Battle of the Bands – first heat – first on – it went remarkably well – I was using this thin Kay guitar that I was able to get feedback from for the final number. I remember the review in the local free newspaper – it compared us to the JAMC and the Wedding Present. We went around seething because we hated David Gedge – you see what I mean – it was all about having opinions – taking sides. Very silly really. However, I remember thinking that I quite enjoyed it up on the stage – so we played a gig at Bentleys [the local pub] pretty soon after – utter amateur chaos. We were being heckled from beginning to end – a red rag to a bull really. I do remember one of the The Hoverchairs [another moderately successful Scunthorpe group – who we thought was made up of old men] shouting out when my string broke to ‘take them all off’ at the time it spurred me on in a psychotic rage to be that little bit louder that little bit more aggressive – now I think it’s a funny heckle.

++ In your little bio you say you grew up on Sha La La flexis. So you were total popkids! What was your favourite Sha La La flexi? Were you a fan of Are You Scared to Be Happy as well?

I have to be careful here – because I reckon I’m the indie kid – Paul and Ian couldn’t stand half the twee stuff I was into. I remember getting all the AYSTGH fanzines – it was like having the manual to creating the best indie band/label ever. I was also getting Trout Fishing in Leystone, Simply Thrilled, Sowing Seeds, Woosh all sorts of stuff – you’d buy them at gigs – 50p and a free flexi – how could that be wrong? But pop to us was the beach boys, The Rolling Stones, Joy Division, the velvets, dinosaur, the valentines, the ronettes etc. It wasn’t just these bands on Sha La La – I think that gives it context but it wasn’t the only thing we were grooving to. You know we had the first Beasties album and Public Enemy and stuff – we still made indie music though. If I had to name my favourite sha la la – I was well into the baby Lemonade one  and the clouds [a seriously underrated band if there ever was one] – you see now you’ve got me thinking about them – Remember Fun, Emily, the sea urchins all were brilliant. They just summed up stuff at the time.

++ Get That Anorak Off was a zine you put out. I’ve never seen it, how many issued did you do? What was the best of being involved with the fanzine culture? Do you think blogs can act as a digital fanzine or it would never achieve the charm of a typewritten pamphlet?

I started GTAO when I was 15 – we’d been following The Primitives around the north and I wanted to show off that we kind of knew them – so I just wrote up the experience, I remember Paul did a review of the fall’s new album and there was stuff about other bands in there – I got it photocopied in the steelworks office where my dad worked – he did it when the foreman wasn’t there and then tried selling it round Scunthorpe and gigs. It sold – so I did another one – this was more indie based – I started interviewing more bands, I think issue 2 had the brilliant corners, the chesterfields, razorcuts etc in it. It came with a crayoned cover sold out fairly quickly and basically I kept producing them until I started university. The final one [I think there were five in all] was finished at university [it had dinosaur/ spacemen 3/ the telescopes/ primal scream in it] and by then I was drifting into the whole acid house culture and the indie scene felt a little backward looking – I know now it wasn’t but I was getting my energy from other sources – so fanzine culture wasn’t a big part of it.

However, I think the whole thing about fanzines and the culture that goes with it was/ is the sense that you can put your thoughts down – you don’t mediate the same way as a newspaper – you have values and ideologies but they really are your own. And it’s mad that you end up getting letters from Singapore or Australia from like minded people who are into the same scene – it was about having a voice and during that period I feel I could express it – on the most part in a clumsy, inarticulate manner – but it was my voice nonetheless.

In that way I think blogging is the way forward, I’m not always sure that it reaches the audience in the same way – but young kids are fairly hip and tell each other about what’s going on all the time. You know I’m the paper generation but the blogging community is keeping that independent spirit alive  – more power to it.

++ You released a split flexi with Esmerelda’s Kite that came with the Shoot The Tulips zine. I read this was the best selling of them, 800 copies. It even got airplay by John Peel! Was that the biggest highlight of The Williams? How did you end up on this flexi?

The flexi was a good thing – recorded on the strangest 4-track recorder in our bedroom – I remember that I’d met Jo in Leeds- she sold me her fanzine and introduced me to pale saints – we hit it off and discussed the possibility of doing a joint flexi together. Suffice to say my band was going on it – so in some ways it was a vanity press sort of thing. She knew a band from Leeds called Esmerelda’s Kite – of whom the singer would go on to become The Gentle Despite who released some stuff on Sarah records. I think it cost a bit – but we made it back from the sales – she sold out and so did I – it was bizarre – I’ve still got a couple left but generally that flexi is out there.

Jo hated the fact that I called the label Sunshine [in retrospect she was right] and when we got it back from the manufacturers it had three tracks as opposed to the two listed – so it was even better value for money. The John Peel thing was a highlight – Jo rang and said he was going to play the flexi – and we thought he’d play Esmerelda’s Kite – it sounded more garage etc. but we had forgotten that he had a son named William. I remember him introducing it and Paul and I just trying to tape it – it was weird to hear it on the radio. After that it got picked up by some other European stations and even ended up in some charts. Having John Peel play your record means he had to listen to it – make a decision and programme it – it was John Peel do you know what I mean – I listened to him every night. Still he never gave us a session – despite the hundred of tapes we gave him.

++ Did you had any other releases? I can’t find a full discography? Maybe some tape appearances?

To be honest I’m not sure – we gave out our demo tapes to so many people and I think we came out on various tape compilations – who knows. We actually tried to get Firestation to put out ‘Still Keep Coming’ or ‘Lose myself in you’ but they just wanted the flexi and we only had a shit tape of it. It sounds bloody awful on the Leamington Spa CD.

++ You went into a six day tour with Primal Scream, when they were still good, what do you think happened to them? Why did they went into the dark side of music?!

The Scream dates were the most enlightening nights of my life when it comes to music – we had managed to convince the Adelphi to put us on as support. You know, that to us was an achievement – but after we’d finished the whole fucking Scream had been watching so they invited us to come down to Sheffield the next night and just put us on the bill. We used their instruments and I broke the pick up on Throb’s Les Paul – he just thought it was rock n roll – I was shitting myself. Good bloke – very good bloke. And it kind of spiralled from there – the thing is what people might not know is that the Scream are the most open, honest and genuine rock n roll band you’ll ever meet. You know I was just 18 and Andrew Innes and Bobby Gillespie would be giving you this insight into music that you couldn’t find in Scunthorpe – Innes was like get some Sly Stone in your collection. They just didn’t judge and had this raw political edge. It was an MC5 thing going on – we were all learning.  And then it was just hanging out for a long time with them, you know the whole Screamadelica thing, Weatherall , Alex Patterson, Nightingale, Douglas from the JAMC videoing all kinds of hedonism. Absolute mayhem. So to me The Scream were never this ‘indie – jangly’ thing – and to be honest I didn’t think we were either.

++ The Williams also played with The Pale Saints, The Telescopes, The Sainsburys, St. Christopher, Sea Urchins and many more. Which was your favourite gig and why? What was the best of being part of The Williams?

This could go on forever, all the gigs were good, we were generally mates with the bands so it felt good just playing a set and then watching theirs. I wish we had stuck to playing the same set – we wrote far too much and played it infrequently – it’s a wonder that we had any fans – we used to have a new set every week. I remember the Sea Urchins in Deptford – I emailed James the other month and he replied saying that they had wanted to put out one of our tunes – I couldn’t even remember that. So I guess it tells you about the state we used to play in – once with Emily I just kept falling off the stage and then I lost it blamed everyone but myself for the thing falling apart. Meanwhile Paul and the rest of Emily are robbing the bar – indie kids had attitude back then. So it’s hard to pinpoint a favourite – it was different every time. And the best part of being in The Williams was just making music – Paul and Ian were a fucking revelation – when we were on it we came up with the goods. Not bad for a bunch of amateurs.

++ Would you go to pop gigs as fans at all? I guess you didn’t get many at Scunthorpe?

We went to gigs all the time – I guess you do when you’ve no responsibilities and money to burn [well we never had money to burn – but we got around] I was also putting gigs on in Scunthorpe – so I brought Pale Saints there just after they’d been signed to 4AD – the crowd didn’t have a clue – they played a continuous set – genius. The Applicants played, I think that’s how Rob got involved.

++ Rob Dillam from Adorable joined the band for a while. How did that work out? Was him an influence into the latter change of sound of The Williams? That of a more noisy, more shoegazy, guitar sound

Rob wrote me a letter – drove all the way from Coventry to Hull and leant me a Fender Jaguar for the night – he was a star I’m telling you. And it just came to be that he joined the group. We had been going in the noise direction pretty much straight after the flexi came out – he just made it even more brutal. He had money you see – shit loads of pedals and amps and stuff. He just made a racket in the back. I think he should have pushed himself more into it – but then he had to deal with us control freaks – no wonder he joined Adorable. And then he goes and gets signed to Creation.

++ Why did you call it a day in 1993?

I think calling it a day doesn’t really explain how the band mutated from this ‘indie’ thing into the sprawling beast that was Superelectric. We’d kind of gravitated to the dance arena [hadn’t everyone gone baggy?] but we were listening to a whole heap of different sounds, The Beach Boys, the Beasties, Warp Records stuff, The World of Twist, obscure 1960s stuff and the notion of C86/ Twee guitars was restrictive in a way – you know, you couldn’t change – at least we thought it was restrictive. Looking back it wasn’t but we tended to alienate ourselves from just about everything. Paul moved over to programming and using analogue keyboards and stuff and Ian started developing a more fluid bass approach. So the electrics were born – I guess The Williams seemed like a generic indie name – I don’t know if that was the right move but that’s what we did. Through the Scream we would send tapes to Tim Abbott and it was all promises and favours and maybes and will try to get this and that – basically everyone was waiting to see what would sell. We kept sending the demos to him – they liked them – I tried to get the band to move to London – that didn’t happen – so we were stagnating. Oasis came along and Creation’s focus shifted – we were pretty much left high and dry. After that Ian moved on – we played in a number of formations but it all fell apart. We’re all back in touch now – we’re all making music- just not together. I think the spirit of superelectric lives on somewhere in all of us [ the band – not the world]

++ Anything else you’d like to add?

It was good while it lasted – there’s music out there if anyone wants to listen to more – you can find both the The Williams and Superelectric on Myspace and on Lastfm. Alternatively you can email myself – and I’ll send you stuff – the address being alanfairnie@aol.com

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Listen

The Williams – Lose Myself in You

Thanks to Duncan Steer for the interview!

++ I’m one of those fifteen people in the world that would know more about Pastel Collision. Let’s have a background check to start! How did the band start? Who were the members? And where was the band based?

The main band members all the way through were myself and Gaynor, who was the singer. Along the way we had about, erm, 30 other people playing with us including about eight drummers and various trumpet players. Gaynor and I met via an advert in a long-forgotten music paper called Spiral Scratch. She was looking for someone to help make trumpet-fired indie-guitar magic happen. Within about four months of meeting, we had got a track on a 1992 LP released in Preston called ‘Reclaiming the guild’. It was a local community project to celebrate music in Preston. People still sell this album on eBay, on the basis of our song, which is an early, slow version of our first single, Young, with very good drumming. When we became a trio, Gaynor and I were joined by Jim Brunt, who lived in a metal dome, owned every Erasure and Pet Shop Boys record and could make the same amount of music as the other 27 people we’d had in the band put together.

++ You played between 1994 and 1997 as Pastel Collision. During those years indiepop was just an underground thing. The times were indiepop bands appeared on the music press were long gone. How was the scene during that time in Manchester? Any other great bands?

I don’t think we were really part of any real scene. We supported Heavenly once and I suppose some might say that they were the kings/queens of our little corner of indie pop. I was always into the brilliant Man From Delmonte, who were a very very poppy Manchester band that split up in about 1992. I suppose the NME stopped writing about proper indiepop years before but there was always John Peel and Mark Radcliffe, who were doing shows on Radio 1: they both played our records.

++ Only 13 gigs in 3 years. Why was that?

We were always more into recording. Tell me this: how many times have you seen a band live that sounds really really good and really inspires you? And how many times have you heard a record like that? For me, the numbers are 1) less than 10 and 2) more than 100. It was hard for us to rehearse and become a good live band, in any case because of living in different towns all over the country: in the studio, it’s all about your pop ideas – which we were really excited about. At gigs, it’s all about rehearsing a lot and being brilliant musicians and showmen which, possibly, we weren’t.

++ In the release department you didn’t do bad at all, 4 singles in 3 years. That’s a good ratio isn’t it? Which was your favourite Pastel Collision track? Any good anecdote about any song you’d like to share?

Well, one of my ambitions was to produce a song that would make people say, ‘What’s that? It’s brilliant’ when they heard it on a compilation tape. So, on those terms, ‘Wherever You Go Take Me With You’ is our No 1. I even saw it listed on a web forum as ‘the best song that no-one else knows about.’ About the highest acclaim you can get when you’re on a micro-indie label, I guess. Anecdotes? When Mark Radcliffe played our song, Young, on national BBC Radio 1 in the UK – which was a massive, massive deal – we didn’t hear it. But someone we knew heard it. And Radcliffe said, ‘If you know anything about Pastel Collision ask them to get in touch’. And our friend didn’t tell us this until about 18 months later. Hmmmm.

++ How did you end up releasing the single on Billberry Records, a label in Germany? It’s strange that you haven’t been showcased on the Leamington Spa series yet, especially as Billberry is among the labels releasing those records.

Sven from Bilberry records heard our first single Young and asked us to do a single for him. Unfortunately, it didn’t come out very well. Yes, the Leamington Spa people have been in touch with me but we haven’t yet appeared on one of their compilations.

++ I read that you were pop fans. Do you still follow the indiepop scene at all? I read on the Twee.net biography that you all loved the Would Bes, The Siddeleys and The Popguns! Wow! You wore the best influences on your sleeves!

Well, I do think that people who like those bands would like Pastel Collision… But I always liked things beyond indie pop and still do. What is quite interesting is that our type of music is always seen as quite old-fashioned and yet every single year there’s a new successful(ish) band trying to do roughly what we were trying to do (but usually with more money and success and, to be fair, ability). I guess the line starts with the Rezillos in 1978 and goes up to Ida Maria in 2008. And I also wish we’d thought of doing what the Pipettes did a couple of years ago. Maybe we still will. BTW I love Class of 2000 by Amida on Plastilina and recommend everyone to listen to it.

++ I know after Pastel Collision you formed Kaleida (and let’s save that for another interview!) but what about before Pastel Collision? Were any of you involved with any other bands?

Gaynor played cello on a Peel session for a Dutch band called Donkey who – I may be wrong – were a bit like the Fall. She also played for a group called Witchknot. But we had many many people play gigs with us – once, at a gig in Camden, our trumpet player was Andy Diagram of James (yes, THE multi-million selling James. I can’t believe this but it’s true.); we started out with a drummer called Chick who used to be in Cornershop – and he went on to be in another John Peel band called Formula 1 with a girl called Kerrie, who played trumpet and keyboards for us. And two of our records were released by our biggest early supporter, Hue Williams of the Pooh Sticks on his own label. You could do a good indie family tree if you could be bothered

++ Growing up in Manchester, how big was The Smiths influence on you?

Well, I didn’t grow up in Manchester but I went to college there… But I loved The Smiths and was definitely inspired by them – though I don’t think our records sound very much like the Smiths. Really, I think they sound more in the spirit of the sort of records Morrissey always said he liked – 60s girl group stuff, Twinkle, Sandie Shaw etc and modern versions of them like The Would Bes and the Primitives. I always wanted our records to be very definite – so some people would hate them but some people would love them. There were so many average indie bands with nothing unique about them, as if they were embarrassed to stand out. Lazy, tuneless idiots with no ideas, just making a noise. Our records were quite full-on, poppy, trumpety, wilfully lightweight. You could tell what they were meant to be – even if you hated them.

++ On the last single, “Wherever You Go, Take Me With”, you worked with Mike Jones from Voice of Beehive. How did that experience with a chart topper go?

Working with Mike was probably the best thing we did as a band – because he had actually made chart records and knew how it was done. Our first single, Young, was made with Steve Mack from That Petrol Emotion – another proper producer. But our second and third singles were just made with studio engineers – the guys who work at the studio – and you can certainly hear the difference. We wanted to make real pop records and Mike had the recipe and lots of little studio tricks, as well as a fund of showbiz stories. The Beehive had worked with some big name producers and Mike had obviously learned a lot from them, too. When you go to a studio and you’re quite a new band, you really do need to have an engineer or producer who knows what you’re trying to do. It’s not just a case of ‘plug in your guitar and sing into that microphone over there.’ It’s a real art.

++ There’s a lovely video shot on Super 8 of that single. Was this your idea or Siesta’s? It’s great, it’s one of your best songs, but it is also quite different from the other singles. This is much closer to Kaleida. This is also the time when the band becomes a trio. What was happening at the moment? So many changes!

We changed to working as a trio because it was easier to get the results we wanted. As Pastel Collision, we sometimes had eight people in the band, which was very hard to organise – even in terms of travelling to gigs or rehearsals. We were also keen to get out of the indie pop ghetto – we wanted to make records that sounded like they should be in the charts, even if they had no real hope of getting in the charts. We wanted to do something that sounded more like mainstream pop: maybe our early records sounded quite old-school mid-80s indie, like the June Brides or the Shop Assistants or the Brilliant Corners. By the time we did Kaleida it was 1996/97 and we thought we could still be indie while using computers and playing in tune, like St Etienne, say. It’s really nice that real serious indiepop fans tracked us down via fanzines and stuff like that but our real ambition was to reach quite a ‘normal’ audience,without losing the real hardcore! A lot of indie scene people from that time had no ambition of trying to sell a lot of records: they loved selling 300 records to the same 300 people who always wore the same stripey T-shirts and flowery dresses even though they were actually aged 46. Maybe it was physically impossible to get a proper indie record in the charts – but you could still sound like you were trying. Hence ‘Wherever You Go’ and the Kaleida album. The video was made by our friend Mike Hodgkinson and it’s all his idea. He lives in Los Angeles now and is going to be a famous director. Look him up on youtube. He did the world’s first pop video to be made entirely on a mobile phone, for the fella who used to be in the Catherine Wheel. We had a day out at Herne Bay in Kent with locals standing by watching us while we were being filmed. I expect they thought we were a proper band. ++

Siesta is known for being a very picky and difficult label. Also it’s known for it’s exquisite catalog. How did you end up now in a Spanish label? How was the relationship with Siesta.

I think I asked them if they would like to release a record for us and they said ‘Yes’. Siesta seemed quite nice people and reasonably ambitious but we weren’t able to get the record promoted in the UK. This was all pre-Myspace and pretty much pre-web, so everything was really indie and it was quite hard to get your name known unless you had a label who knew how to get you heard. And we never did. Siesta did get us to go on a trip to Spain, though, where we appeared on Spanish National Radio 3 with Jesus Ordovas, who was Spain’s answer to John Peel. We did a half-hour interview on his show, through a translator, and played three of our songs, which was amazing. We also played at a festival. Unfortunately, the festival was held in a student town during the summer holidays on World Cup final night, 1998. Hmmm. But we were playing with Eggstone, who had big connections with The Cardigans, and were really good and really friendly – so, again, it felt like we were connecting to something pretty cool.

++ Gaynor’s voice is one of my favourites in indiepop world! Do you all still keep making music? Maybe one of these days you’ll surprise us with a Pastel Collision reunion?!

We would love to do some more records. I am free on Thursday.

++ What was the best part of being Pastel Collision? And the worst? Do you miss anything?

The best part was the Jesus Ordovas show – getting driven out to the edge of Madrid to this giant, mysterious concrete building of the Spanish national radio at 9 o’clock at night- and then going on their No 1 pop show! It felt like the Bourne Ultimatum. Or getting letters from a fanzine editor in Japan who wanted to do a special issue about us. All amazing. The worst part was doing a band in the pre-internet days where it was so hard to get the message out even to the people who did like you. And, more specifically, the record we did with Bilberry – Trouble with a Capital T – which was quite a good song but came out as a completely hopeless record. Depressingly hopeless. Maybe I shouldn’t say that because some people like it. But there you are.

++ Why did the band decided to call it a day?

I don’t know. We did our album and video and little festival show as Kaleida for Siesta in 1998, did demos for a new album in our house and then just kind of stopped. I suppose we’d done our best and not had a massive response. It just felt that no-one beyond the fanzine hardcore was really hearing our music, even though at least some of it was quite good – so it’s easy to kind of drift on to doing other things.

++ One last question, when will we see at last the Pastel Collision retrospective CD?

When we get into the loft and find all the old master tapes. It’s a frightening job but we could do it for money.

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Listen

Pastel Collision – Wherever You Go, Take Me With

“I love your t-shirt” – with a Spanish accent – “I really love that band”.

I had just taken a picture with Pipas: Mark, Lupe, Erico (from Poppolar) and me for the postcard. Lupe must have been surprised that someone was wearing a Cola Jet Set t-shirt in New York. How many chances there are that someone in America will be supporting Felipe Fresón sugary indiepop band? She had seen them live. She had seen Los Fresones Rebeldes live too. I only had a t-shirt that had just become an icebreaker.

I had one badge of the Plastilina Records label, I thought it was a good idea to give it to her. She seemed very enthusiastic to speak some Spanish during that 2007 summer weekend. To my surprise, she knew the label! Wow! “You’ve released many nice things, we know it very well in Spain”. That was thrilling to hear. Not that very sure if it’s well known in Spain, but anyways… the compliment was ace!

They were next up to play. I asked Lupe to save me her setlist. I have had bad luck getting the Ballboy setlist the day before. Some hipster kid got it first, I bet he just listened the band for the first time. So better ask the bands now I thought. It was my first indiepop festival and may as well be the first indiepop gigs I attended. Strange as I’ve been listening to guitar pop for years now. They played OK. The sound wasn’t the best and they made a couple of mistakes. But I was happy to see them play, singing songs I’ve grew up to enjoy so much like: Run Run Run, Hiding in the Park, Riff Raff and more.

I try not to be negative with bands, but the Cause Co-Motion guys were a bit annoying. Their set was really bad and they asked Lupe and Mark to wear their Cause Co-Motion t-shirts. I guess it’s a matter of community and helping each other, but for me, in between the two bands there are light years of difference. I never liked or enjoyed the concept behind Cause Co-Motion’s music. A matter of taste I guess, but please, don’t compare them to bands like The McTells, those were genius doing crash-pop! Anyhow, they got what they wanted, promotion from Pipas. A bit disappointing for me, but maybe Lupe likes the band?

After the gig I saw the duo outside the venue. From the other side of the door Lupe waved me. She got the setlist for me! Now it resides in a big cork board I have in my room. I see it everyday, it’s just behind my computer. And as everything is a vicious cycle, and this is about t-shirts, I also got a t-shirt, a dark blue one with the words Pipas inside bowling pins.

I guess style is not on my side. I’ll never be a Twee as Fuck kid. But a band t-shirt, jeans and chucks are what I like.

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Listen
Pipas – Hiding in the Park

It may have been the best 2 song show ever in this city but it never happened. The people who run the Vagabond club turned down Ciera and Josh when they were preparing themselves to play. They took away the console, the instruments, and told them: “No, you can’t play tonight”. They had offered them a little spot, 10 minutes to play. It was all lies. They were confused. Welcome to Miami.

I had met Ciera as my interest on her previous band Que Possum was raising and raising as beer foam. We had agreed to make a Que Possum single. We even had sorted the artwork but the band broke up just before releasing it, just before playing at Pop Mayhem! festival. Happily for us lovers of good pop songs, two of their songs appeared on a split single with Boyracer on the 555 Recordings label. Weeks after she told me she was making music again under the name Sugarbears.

Brogues totally nails it when on his blog he compares his bass playing to Peter Hook: they have come all the way from Gainesville because Josh was going to play bass in a Joy Division cover band. And for some reason there were a lot of people looking forward to this gig. The Sugarbears weren’t on the bill, so all this huge crowd was only for the cover band. Startling. I honestly don’t remember the name of the band. Maybe I wouldn’t have gone to the show if Ciera hadn’t tell me they were going to do a Sugarbears special 2 song set after they finished. Two heavy metal looking blokes, Josh and a guy that resembled to Ian Curtis were the band. It just felt unnatural to see a band playing not even one original song. Not used to it. The Vagabond kids, the hipster kids of this city, were in ecstasy. Chanting every song, believing this guy was the reincarnation of Curtis. There was even some crowdsurfing and zippo flames lightning the dark room. If you ask me about taste, this city doesn’t have it. And this effervescence was plain ridiculous. I was out of place.

I found Ciera outside the venue. She was sad, totally overwhelmed by the attitude of the club organizers. I know they were practicing their set till 5am in the morning, just before taking the highway to down south. They were going to play their hit song “Nothing But Love” and a New Order cover, which was going to be a surprise. I can imagine how she felt. What a disappointment this city can be.

The band is over now. They didn’t record any more songs. Their only recording was “Nothing But Love” which I had the chance to release on the “Where Are the Supremes Tonight? EP”. There are still a couple copies left and it’s one of the best tunes this year. It should have been a single.

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Listen
Sugarbears – Nothing But Love

“Arbroath’s finest” I read Mike Innes from They Go Boom! say that. The topic was bands that you know and everyone else doesn’t. He might be right. I’ve only heard one of their songs, and it’s bloody gorgeous!! Even though the recording quality is bad, “Thorns”, is a jangle gem. I have never been able to find more songs, or even find any more information about the whereabouts of the band today. It’s like if they’ve fall off the face of the Earth!

The only piece of information I have, is actually from the fanzine that came with the “Positively Teenage” tape. As you may know, this is almost mythological stuff!, maybe one of the BEST tapes of that era, compiled by This Almighty Pop! factotum Stephen Maughan. And the Sohfas were there, and now they are nowhere.

This is what it says:
Wendy writes most of the songs then the rest of the band try to learn them. And they end up totally different from what they were. Wendy and Susan are sisters. John and Susan are living together, Gordon’s just kind of there and writes some songs. We all come from Arbroath nearly, though John and Susan live in Dundee, our newest song is called 24 Hours and is really good. (this bit was written by John who is the drummer and wears glasses).

It also states that they were releasing a new demo. I wonder how it sounded. I bet it was great. Any more info would be appreciated. Would be lovely to get in touch!

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Listen
Sohfas – Thorns

It’s surprising when you find nasty people in indiepop. There’s not that many you know, usually everybody is friendly and very much into the idea of a community. But well, there are always exceptions. And I think one should always denounce them, maybe they’ll be nasty to YOU next time.

On August 31st I got a nice comment on myspace from Michael Murphy, one of the New York Popfest organizers, saying that the music on the label was great, blah, blah, blah. It’s not there anymore for some reason, maybe he deleted it, maybe he canceled his account. I don’t know how it works. Anyways, one day later, on September 1st, after the indiepop terrorist that is Chris B., wrote some religious nonsense and attacks everywhere, M&M wrote on the indiepoplist:

oohh…a fight! This one’s right up my alley too. I unequivocally support Series Two Records. As a fan, and an artist on the label I can testify to Chris’ dedication and authenticity. I think the “pretentious” cdr comps are fantastic, both in musical substance and in packaging. LOTS of labels over the course of indiepop have put out comps, many with bands not otherwise on thier label. “little Darla has a Treat for You” ring any bells? “Pop American Syle”?? “Seven Summers”?? Great comps all! And don’t even get me started on Roque. To call out another label on the back of one of your records is tacky at best and speaks of the “Me” atttitude you project both in person and in your dealings. To quote:” I don’t advertise new releases on the indiepoplist because they don’t care about new music” Enough said. Yes Cloudberry puts out some amazing music, but I just download it all, as you charge too much and make it available in such limited quantities that only the super aware elite be able to get it. Doesn’t sound very “socialist” to me. You may think yr the second coming of Sarah records…but Matt and Clare would be quite displeased. Trust me.

Surprising isn’t it? Especially as I’ve met him twice in New York, being very polite to him. Even inviting him to have some gyros with me, Anna and the Oh! Custer guys, and him running away. I could dissect what he said on his e-mail, but I guess at this moment it doesn’t matter. He totally misses every point and he is not objective at all, especially as he released in Series Two and I declined his offer to release his stuff on Cloudberry.

Hey! but this is not the end. Now comes the shocking part! Who would have thought that now he wants to be friends on Facebook?

Somebody is suffering of a terrible Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde syndrome.

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Listen
Shop Assistants – I Don’t Want to Be Friends With You