Dreamers: A Night with the BMX Bandits

Independent pop music in 1986 was genuinely that – it was independent – fierce in spirit and attitude – it was not part of the plan – it was immediate – simple and available from the right record shops or fanzine networks and tape exchanges.  I remember those times with both happiness and fondness. It was a time of awakening and feeling accepted – or not feeling accepted and knowing you weren’t the only outsider.

Not that I was an outsider – a loner – that was never my bag – give me a slightest hint of an audience and I’d be performing to it – liked the sound of myself see – clearly I still do – or I wouldn’t write this.  Yet 1986 was a formative time for many.  I was 14 – nearly 15 – growing up – the weight of the world sitting heavy on my shoulders and then along came all of these bands – shambling as John Peel said or jangly this and that – as various music journalists coined it. One newspaper  - the NME put some of this emerging independent experimentation together ‘on tape’ ( I’ve got it on tape – well a tape of the tape)  they called it C86. 

 As a rolling stone of  a tape it gathered momentum – it’s now viewed as a pivotal moment in defining an era – it didn’t feel like that at the time – it was just a tape with some songs on it that the NME gave away that week – some of them were shit songs ( you decide?)

However as the apocryphal story goes ‘this tape’ begat all other indie bands from that ground zero – thus we have that tape to thank for fucking Slowdive or The Chesterfields. (joke – natch)  However – it’s fair to say there was a lo-fi revolution taking place – The Smiths had opened our eyes  (another apocryphal story) and now out of that re-appreciation of rock n roll came these bands with 'soul' - not all about the hits but rather these bands were making something with integrity. It didn't matter that many of these fledging singles sounded cheap - under produced - it was all about existing - perhaps being on the outside of the mainstream - but here you could set the agenda.

The BMX Bandits have always been on my radar – not quite central – but there – pinging away – I know they are there - do you get what I mean? It turns out they’ve been there for thirty years.  I first met Duglas in South London – it was at a Teenage Fanclub gig at the Venue in New Cross (now home to three floors of independent sounds and lots of covers bands) but at that time they used to put on bands.  I was talking to Norman Blake or whoever and Duglas was there.  We struck up a short conversation about the magic of Brian Wilson.  

HE talked about SMiLE and promised to send me a copy.

He was true to his word. 

He sent me a tape. I don't know where he'd got it from - but it was such a lovely thing to do - he track listed it and put on a few other Beach Boys gems too.  It took another twenty-five years before I could thank him properly - via the wonders of the web (wonderweb?) and connections via cables.

There's something about that attention to detail and wonderfully openness that Duglas and his 'family' of Bandits have that can easily be mis-read - as twee and past it - or creepy and calculated - but if you look close into Duglas's eyes you can see he's been 'for real' since their formation. This is no novelty act. Tonight the 100 Club will be witness to another extension of PuNK (it's where it started maaaaaan) - that freedom to do just what you want to do.

Before the BMX Bandits - we have The School - a seven piece mish-mash of the Shangri-las, Motown, Spector, Beach Boys, The Pastels and dare it say it a C86 vibe - there's a craft in this Cardiff based troupe - horns and xylophones - pianos and guitars - layered vocals and sing along ding a lings - they are perfect in their own right. Reaching right back to the past to come up with something new. They are not twee - they will take you out in the underpass. You should all check them out - I will be doing so again.

And then this thronged crowd witness a beautiful pop performance - finely tuned and honest in its approach. Having read the piece in The Guardian previously – maybe it helped shift that perception of Duglas as eccentric rogue – and placed him in that rock n roll list of tortured artist – confronting his demons on stage through the simplicity of songs like ‘Your Class’. He's the Bellshill Brian Wilson - he even has the hand gestures to match.  

Love and mercy, indeed.

We are party to the wee talks from Duglas peppered with his observations and ultimate belief in love. His talks are funny - he is a funny man.  He eats an apple - he eats a boiled sweet. He plays the kazoo.  He gives us his best tunes.  It's a testament to this band that you can put a song as magical and wonderful as 'Serious Drugs' four songs in and know that you've got belter after belter left for the crowd. 

We are party to a pop band with tunes that should have been high in the hit parade.  I'm not going to try and describe the sound - but this is pure pop craft - there's a nod to the past  - you can't write songs like this without referencing Spector and Wilson - but there's so much more hidden inside Duglas and his Bandits heads - listen to the howling guitars of 'Kylie's got a crush on us' or the Ramones meets The Shirelles stomp of my favourite song of the night 'I wanna fall in love'.  Duglas and CHloe are in fine voice - they swap and harmonise all night - all sixties glamour and well tailored suits. Then there's the beauty of 'The Day before Tomorrow' were Duglas is joined by Sean Dickson (previously of The Soup Dragons) on omnichord. It's quite poignant really - Duglas tells us the tale of choosing their name and how him, Sean, Jim and Norman phoned up Eugene (from The Vaselines) to tell him their choices - how he hated the name the BMX Bandits - so they stuck with it. - and now here is Sean on stage once more with his boyhood pal - they hug after a riotous E102.

Pure class.

And then they are back to tell us of the injunction they have had to get to stop Kylie following them - cue Kylie's got a crush on us and then a blissed out Witchi Tai To to round it all off.

Glasgow in the early eighties must have been an exciting time - oh to be at Splash One. But you know I didn't need to be there - because of it - I've had a chance to hear those beautiful dreaming minds - Duglas, Norman, Sean, Bobby, Stephen, Rose,  - what a gang - what a set of groups.

What a bunch of beautiful dreamers.

It was a pleasure to be with Duglas and his Bandits in The 100 Club.  It's important to be reminded of the power of love. Duglas sings from his heart to yours and makes it seem that everything will work out right in the end. 

Anything is possible in Duglas's impossible dream.

BMX Bandits are thirty years old.  Here's to another 30 years.

Here is a wonderful song from the night - thanks as always to Ruth for capturing it

And here's one from The School 

We’re on a very special mission with Dr Cosmo's Tape Lab

It’s been too long – way too long baby – it’s been too long. But hey I’m back – it’s good to be back (do we reference that these days – probably not) There’s a whole heap to write- half finished posts and notes – they’ll surface over the coming months.

So where to begin (again)

This is about Dr Cosmo’s Tape Lab – oh and what a laboratory this is – and their forthcoming long player – Beyond the Silver Sea. All shimmers and strums – harmonies and hums.  A tale of finding the future and living there – I guess. I had received a random message from Mr Stuart Kidd – yes he of The Wellgreen fame (well they are in my house – i mean famous in my house – not that they live in my house) about new projects – new sounds and a possible  place to start a review.

So through cables and code I ended up in my soundcloud (hey, hey, you, you get off of my (sound)cloud) listening to the experiments of two wonderful musicians and their attempts to create an almighty concept album on 4-tracks of tape. The Beatles had four tracks – these guys too. See what you can do with your imagination. And as I always point out – this isn’t retro – this isn’t looking back – it’s just trusting the tape to do its job - to record the experience. Before we begin - I just need to say - they haven't put a date on its release- they're hoping to get a vinyl release soon - so here's to that. So let's talk about the 'Beyond the Silver Sea'. 

And what an experience it is – a mini rock opera –in between The Wellgreen,  running a record label The Barne Society and thumping the skins in the Roogie Boogie band – Stuart had found time to write a (a quick one) musical opus of sixities psychedelia and analogue science fiction.

So let me make sense of this positive sixties psyche and take you ‘Beyond the Silver Sea. Dr Cosmo’s Tape Lab are Joe Kane and Stu Kidd with narration and additional material by Adam Smith (because there’s a story in all of this). Now I should be wary of a concept album for the 2000s – it might all go Kanye West or Sasha Fierce (remember that) or Beady Eye (there are a concept band aren’t they?)

So this album starts with a story – a narrated tale of ‘Max’s’ endeavour to escape his restrictive life in a world where no sense reigns and escape to a place ‘beyond the silver sea’.  Instantly recalling Brian Wilson’s attempts to tell us his tale of a magic transitor radio on a side of seven inch vinyl inserted as an afterthought in the Holland album – there was a worry coursing through my veins – what with the Stanley Unwin forced surrealness of ‘Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake’ and I tried not to recall that ‘War of the Worlds’ record – you know it was in all the Woolworths’ as a child (all the Woolworths)

But I’m here to listen But luckily for you ane me – this turned out to be a Tommy – a concept you can listen to – through and through.

And if I’m honest the story took a slight back seat at first – but slowly it began to fit – it started adding sense to the whole heap of sounds coming my way – this mish-mash of The Small Faces, Brian Wilson blended with a heavy dose of The Who and some Teenage Fanclub tuneage.  It’s an album full of twinkles and strings, harmonies and things (In Lieu of Something Better) where reverb and open chords tell of confusion and discord as Max’s attempts to ‘get out of this place’ get more confused and affected by time.

Through these backroom bedroom recordings come some wonderfully crafted tunes – recalling the Dukes of Stratosphear’s attempts to confuse and dazzle in equal measure. This could be a lost classic (an odessy and oracle we never knew about) or a confident pricking of the past and then presented as a new future.

There’s an analogue elegance between the layers of sounds and each and every play lends itself to references and nods of the knowing. I can hear the work of the mighty Ray Davies seeping into the albums seams creating psychotic reactions  in this Glasgow city – an alternative Detroit -  squelches and soothing sounds. There’s a hint of The Seeds in here too. Oh you can tell what I’m saying it references and remixes that era – those tunes through country, rock and bossa nova. Simple love songs – simple pleasures – garage psychedelia  - there’s a wonderful song called ‘Painted Birds’ – now it’s part of the narrative – a narrative of smoke filled cafes and new wave jump cuts as we hot foot it through Camden 1966 – all heavy fringes and dark eyes – tight trousers and getting high ,high, high.

So do I believe in the silver sea – do I want to escape?  There’s experimentation in this four track heaven – the sounds spring out of nowhere – a translated and transformed – there’s a moment where Chas and Dave meets Back to the Future uptown as a cockney knees up descends into Lee Perry’s spacedub in the form of ‘Pie,mash and liquor’. It’s an album torn out of time and rooted in the past yet knowingly moving on.  It has humour at its heart.  Serious songs from smiling faces – or smiling songs from serious faces?  Whichever way you want it – it works.

As Max’s journey takes us to The Storehouse of Fools in a quest to get away from it all with Trixie at his side (except she isn’t) this place of ramalamma boogie woogie – all denim (the band and fabric) with lasers and lights then head into the Townsend fury and Foxy Lady honky tonk of ‘Dr Chester’s Pleasures’ as we are taken to the stars. You see anything is possible when you can commit it to tape – when you can experiment – reshape – chop and mix – sprinkle this and turn out that.

So we journey ever onwards – beyond the silver sea to ‘The Stars My Destination’ all Lennon squawk and shimmer a lonely ‘other’ planet boy cry. Dr Cosmos’ Tape Lab have produced radiophonic workshop organic indie music for 2014 and beyond – it’s conceptual – it’s bombastic – it’s fantastic. A kind of subtle fairy animals (you get me?)

Finally we reach our destination. Way beyond and further. Ready for ‘The Long Sleep’ – it’s got this early baggy feel to it – sort of (World of) Twist otherness. There’s a hint of Gary Numan  cutting a duet with The Zombies rolling over and over (it may have been the time of day I listened – but that’s what I’m hearing in the chorus) All Barberella backbeat – squelches and reverses – slipping down to simple chords and harmonies falling into air and space.

 

Dreams falling into line on tape. 

Yes the whole thing is ambitious and at 44 minutes you’ve got to put the effort in – otherwise you might lose the story thread. But once that’s all seeped into the unconscious you just listen – and let the lab carry out its experiments on you.  All put down on four tracks of tape – as I said – if it works for The Beatles – then it’s going to work for anyone. And it works for this talented twosome.

You know we can find the things we want to be - beyond the silver sea.

So who wants to join me – beyond the silver sea?

As this long player is yet to be released - you can do no harm in checking out their rather fabulous soundcloud site. There's lots of songs and snippets from the album. It should be out very soon - so you can buy it then.

Go to it here

A proper taste of Dr Cosmo's Tape Lab

Here’s some information too:

Stu does- vocals, drums, glockenspiel, percussion, monotron, casiotone, acoustic guitar, lead guitar

Joe does- Vocals, tack piano, bass, lead guitar, acoustic guitar, electric harpsichord, Moog synthesiser, organ, melodica

Recorded July to November 2013 on a Tascam 424 Mk. III four-track recorder

That's love. Heaven's Above. Here come The Pastels again.

It’s taken far too long to write this….but the euphoria hasn’t diminished. I was in the company of The Pastels last week. And I missed The Fall this weekend but you can’t have all your heroes in one week – you know things could just implode with that kind of excitement. So here I am tonight – at home – with the incessant drone of charity ringing in my ears – you know the only time I wear my pyjamas is in my bed maaaaan. I’m old like that. You don’t want give anyone a shock. McCartney’s on in the background all wrong sounding strings, and Yesterday played in glittering jackets – like rock and roll has been wrung out of it all.

But rock n roll was alive last week in the Scala. I’ve told this tale many times before – but The Pastels are my Velvets. Art for the outsider. Now you know I’m part of the (main) stream –but I like to think that no one really listens to Sister Ray like I do. Well The Pastels – do that for me – that difference – but sincerity and fragility and noise and melody- just like Lou did – a band to fall into when the going gets tough and you just need a friend. We’re not freaks – we speak the same language – it’s just you lot out there that hate. Here - we're up for mutual respect and laughs and jokes – smiles and glances and late night chances.

It was good to have The Pastels back in London (although who was minding monorail was anyone’s guess) It was good to go to a Pastels show. It was an early start this one – doors were opened at 6.30 – and closed by 10.30. It was my kind of  night.  So I arrived with the strains of Bill Ryder Jones echoing through the labyrinth that is the Scala. You seem to be endlessly ascending stairs and opening doors in the hope of finding the band – kind of a Yellow Submarine scene without the psychedelic sights. Bill’s from Liverpool see –used to be The Coral and had the room hushed in wonder at his paeans to love lost and found. There's a deep rooted melancholy to his songs. You can tell he's lived it. A much more superior Jake Bugg - if you know what I'm getting at.

And the room was filling up. A friendly crowd. Waves and glances and nods and hellos – we’ve stood together in rooms across this city before. We like the same things. We all like The Pastels. It’s been 24 years since I last saw the Pastels – that was way back at the ULU. A four band bill – finishing with the kings of independent pop, before we them we had pale saints, Teenage Fanclub and the first London gig by Ride. I still have the poster. I didn’t get one from this gig. There was a part of me that wished I had. Funnily enough that ULU show had been populated by a mighty presence of Showsec security guards – this had that feel to - as my bag was searched and pockets were patted down. We’re a rowdy bunch us Pastel fans – I keep my blade tucked deep inside my anorak.

And on the bill this evening was another reference to the past – Lightships are Gerry Love’s extra curricular outfit – a Fannies for the future shall we say. I didn’t know that at the time – so it was a pleasure to suddenly see Love stepping out of the shadows to play a set of acid folk rock explosions (I’m trademarking that by the way) with a band that looked both glam rock and tinged with a Danish detective sartorial style. Gerry’s voice was in fine form – as harmonies and merged with delayed guitars and suddenly we had lift off (do you see what I did there?) I mean it when I say it had a folk attitude – authenticity again – I couldn’t quite make out the words but I got sense of it being about home. There was that familiar Fanclub feel to it but the sonics where doing something else. There was a guy making lovely squelches and producing shards of sound that took it away from what I was expecting and made it all the better for it. I really should look up his name – he’s in the Pastels aswell (so’s Gerry). There was a time – I’d know all the names – but when you get to my age it’s hard just remembering the names of your neighbours – let alone line-ups.  I need to go and listen a little more to Lightships – I like Lightships – I like their style.

And from one style to another – super style icon Stephen Pastel (as seen in A Scene in Between) and his band – except as I said before – this isn’t about leaders – this is a collective – a gang.  Always understated – but never overrated – The Pastels emerge to warm cheers and claps and whoops – and that was just me. Once again finding myself positioned at the front - this wasn’t intentional – I wasn’t jostling for position I just happened to be standing stage left –  where Stephen was singing. There’s no front with this group. As I said they were/ are my Velvets from the 1980s. A super Scottish crew – making tunes for the few – that’s what it felt like back then. A few pictures - got to base your look on something – like those few photos we had of The Byrds and The Velvets – MC5 and The Small Faces – The Pastels were in there too – we were carving style out of sound. And the Songs for Children EP on a bootleg blue vinyl and random purchases from record shops dotted across the North. Each and every one of their songs holding something special for me. I was rocking a quiff at the gig – but inwardly I was shaking my bowlhead all night. I’m done with the anoraks. But without The Pastels in my teenage years – I might not have made it.

It doesn’t seem like twenty four years have passed – Stephen and Katrina still feel the same – this duo manning the helm of the good ship Pastel. From the opening mariachi melodies of Slow Summits we were ready for our adventure to higher plains. Moving from new to old – this all too short set encapsulated all that’s often missed about the Pastels – this is a band with a whole heap of perfect pop (corn) tunes – and references that take in far more styles than the ‘shambling and twee’ bands they supposedly inspired. This is Miles Davies meets Lou Reed downtown with a twist of the Shrangi La’s and Can. It’s experimental and sentimental – which is good thing in my eye and sounds even better in my head. So we were tripping through the old and the new and everything sounded divine. If you haven’t got the latest Pastels tunes – and come on – this is their first ‘proper’ long player in 16 years – then buy it.  And in the flesh this beautiful album came alive – with a band of players augmenting those well-crafted words of Katrina and Stephen. From Wrong Light to Check your Heart (surely the BHF’s next song of choice for any health campaign) with Nothing to be Done , Different Drum and Summer Rain in the mix -  the interplay of the two singers was perfect in every sense. I guess when you’ve known each other that long things are going to kind of click. It doesn’t just click with the group though – as I’ve said before there’s no front with Stephen – the conversation is flowing back and forth with an awestruck audience but Stephen never plays the star. He’s humble and appreciative that we’ve even bothered to come to.

We wouldn’t have missed it though. Even though I had to go home to fetch my ticket at the start of the evening when I realised I’d left it at home.

All of this was leading to a final blistering onslaught of one-chord feedback drones in the shape of Baby Honey. With a temperamental pedal and six members locking down into a six minute odyssey to love. You couldn’t ask for anything else. But understandably we wanted more. So we were treated to even more wonders from this brilliant bunch of outsiders – who it seems have been spending their time becoming the wedding band to book if you’re getting married in the West of Scotland. Well not really but Katrina treated us to a rendition of an old soul tune (someone please tell me it’s title – my mind is not what it was) given the Pastels treatment and recently aired at a friend’s wedding (Pastels tune update - Stephen tweeted to tell me it was Love (It's getting better) and was actually released on the Worlds of Possibility EP - so thanks for that) and Daniel Johnson’s Speeding Motorcycle was revved up and run out.

And then after a lovely gentle downbeat ending (And once again I can’t name that tune – I thought I could but it seems to escape me now) – The Pastels were gone. It was 10pm and I was going to  be back home by 11pm with the biggest smile across my face since the last time I saw them.

It won’t be another 24 years. I’ll be seeing you soon. 

Here's Baby Honey from Glasgow a few years back - I'm hoping that a video will surface from The Scala gig but it's not there yet.Although I am reliably informed that there's footage out there - and i'll update this page as soon as it's available.  So thanks to mudonthedoor for posting this. 

Oh and it's Tom Crossley - the wonderful noise wizard in Lightships and The Pastels. 

Without the writing how would you know?

 I have been trying to teach the inner workings of the uk music press to a group of 16 year old students. Students who have been living through exponential growth in digital interactions – who don’t write things down but communicate through speed and shape – texts and expressions – image and colour – url and sound bite. They have never read an in depth interview with Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine trying to break America with pithy commentary by Steven Wells. They have never seen a photograph of Elastica in a public house in Camden. Their lives are neither better nor worse for it.

I can’t imagine growing up without a world of type and bombast. I still like to read the music press – well Mojo – it’s gotten to that stage – I’m not slick or hip enough to find the new sounds – I don’t want nostalgia but seem to be content to read about Black Sabbath’s 1978 appearance at Hammersmith Apollo or the transition of Floyd from acid fuelled psychosis to hip atom muthas. The press shaped conversation and tastes and allegiances, fashions and faux pas (should you admit to liking U2), opinions and confidence. It filled hours – it hinted at tantalising finds – obscure gems – and future sounds. I’d sit in bedrooms, common rooms, classrooms, front rooms and back ones discussing the writing about sound – thinking what purchases to invest in that weekend – oh whether my teenage hate would boil over at another feature about St Etienne. Paul would be reading Melody Maker, I was on Sounds, the NME waiting to be opened as we read about The Beasties tour of Japan, or the Scream in America.

It pulled the money from our pockets. Which we spent on records recommended in reviews in the views of the privileged and hip. Money heading straight to the labels and stables of future dreams. So they could put out more vinyl and more words would be written and more money spent – does your money go round, does your money go round?

The young ones don’t get it really.

This class of difference.  This idea of interviews as text – as features and follow ups – they don’t get it. They can tell I was passionate about it all – but they can’t see the reason that it felt exciting to walk into town and roll into WH Smith. You see, if Lady Gaga wants to speak to them – she can – it’s 140 characters and instant connection. It doesn’t require a plane trip – the journalist swagger or a photographer in tow. It’s Instagram representation and a chance to unite the masses. In some ways every artist I ever read about would have benefitted from this social media madness. The press was just a way to connect with the band – maaaan – you know find out what they were about – it could be politics – it could George Michael’s favourite pizza topping – it was snippets and insights – stories and highlights – rocksteady and uptight. That has been swept aside in the relentless speed and efficiency of bringing you 24 hour solid music news – its one thing after another.

You know they found a story last month in Robbie Williams mouthing off about the late shoegaze and emerging Britpop scene – as if he was still stuck in a spat with Adorable and he couldn’t let it go. You know he’d been rounded on by Echobelly in 1993 and he still felt bitter – like George Costanza – all rage and fury and ready to get his line in despite the time between the slight and his retort (hey  - the ocean called and they’re all out of you). They ran with this – because it fills a page – this generated content – this updateable site – it needed a story. It needed a celebrity and a spat – the tabloids communicate like that – so we better had too.

Sounds came out once a week. Sounds had an irreverent quality – it didn’t take itself quite as serious as the NME – it felt like a daft teenager itself. It was hip enough. It had news stories – it filled pages – but its stories had words and words and words. We like it in short bursts now. They like being taught that way too. I don’t know how they’d be able to sustain that level of reading these days – it might be just the ‘kids’ in front of me – they’re skewing my view – but have you read an NME these days? You’re lucky to get two pages of writing about anything. You don’t need that many words now – you get it from the horses mouth – from the artist – unmediated (well less mediated) – so why wait for the week to be over and the next column written. If I want to talk to Stuart Kidd and Marco Rea – I can – then I can click on over to Soundcloud and get the demos – they’re The Wellgreen by the way.

They are brilliant. But without the writing – the recommendations – where do you go – how do you know?

I’m set in my ways in a digital age.

You see I got The Barne Society CD through the post. Five pounds for twelve songs. A cottage house industry producing beautiful sounds for a few pounds. My words won’t give it the column inches it deserves – it’s got a new Wellgreen track on it – and that was the prompt to purchase I guess. That and a message to check out the site – so you visit – you have a listen and point and click – and then it’s there on the mat – dropped through the letterbox by your postman. He hadn’t heard of the Barne Society. Well he might have done – but for the sake of this writing I need him not to have – so he hasn’t.

He might have heard of this lovely, honest and fragile label – if it was getting the inches across the weekly ‘rock’ rags that it actually deserves.

But the press don’t work that way – it’s quite a simple relationship – sell more newspapers on the back of building up a scene that may or may not exist. It becomes a self-fulfilling madness – invent a scene – big it up and knock it down. The Barne Society don’t deserve any of that  - they don’t need writers decamping to Scotland with A&R in tow – calling the shots – renaming it all. The press would call this the Sound of Scotland (revisited) make references to the second, third or fourth coming. They would hang it on a notion that Postcard records was the template for all the ‘scottish’ things – you know – they might have had that idea anyway. Talk to Stephen McRobbie – he’s quietly got on with just releasing wonderful music. And so have these guys.  

There’s a sense of that eclectic Scottish culture – borrowed and proud – there’s spoken word and melancholic tones seeping through the expertly designed sleeve and CD – this is the whole package my friend. This is a fragile Scotland – with confident undertones. Songs with spaces and silences – muted moments in late nights and early mornings (hear Linden ‘My Beating Heart’ for a little of that).

Sometimes you just want the music out. And it should be – everyone should hear The Springtime Anchorage – it’s not a name that trips of the tongue – but it relocates that west coast jangle to the west coast of this isle. It’s The Byrds without the sun – psychedelic (haggis) suppers – The Junipers ‘They lived up in the valley’ is a beauty – understated and simple – okay so it has a little of the ‘glen’ in it – but why wouldn’t it. It represents – do ya get me? Kontiki Suite – will be one of my summer tunes – sunlight fading – driving through the countryside  – because I’m the music man – maaaaaan. There’s a power in that there tune.

But it’s always The Wellgreen – I come back to. My first love – I guess – partly because I wasn’t expecting it. I said in a previous piece way back then when I went to watch Euros Childs that The Wellgreen kind of blew my mind – there was this sense of accomplished musicianship combined with a playful energy and a smile on the faces of those making the music. I like authenticity – not earnestness – and they made you feel ‘up’. They properly entertained with their two man pop voyage. I had them down as The Everley Brothers for a modern day man. But I’m hearing so much more Bacharach in there – jumps in time signature and wonderful scales – they really are pleasure to listen to. Either in a room with them living or in a room with them singing from speakers.

You will listen to them as well.

I spent many a summer in Scotland – so there’s an inherent fondness for it all - except I was East coast (not exactly leather trousers and VU shades – but close). You need a wee bit of Scotland in your soul too? (Okay I know the Barne Society has other bands on it – from other places  - but I wanted to write that line – so I have)

So let’s support The Barne Society. Let’s all go buy their records. 

This isn't on the compilation - you can find that via the links embedded in the post. This is from The Wellgreen album. You can buy that at their site too.