The Jesus & Mary Chain

Temporary Fandoms, the music listening group on Facebook that  I'm part of, remains a gift that keeps giving. Allowing me to trawl through and relive youthful memories. Currently we are working our way through The Jesus & Mary Chain. Here are my thoughts about Psychocandy and Darlklands, their first two LPs and the important ones to me.

Psychocandy:

Part 1: 

I was in Locarno, Switzerland on my gap year working in a hotel when J&MC emerged at the beginning of 1985. Obviously at that point in life for someone like me I missed music and the music papers more than anything else from the UK, especially as there was a lot happening at that point in time that I was interested in. For me I was mostly missing The Smiths, R.E.M and The Go Betweens and wanting to know more about The Triffids. There was a library in Locarno where they actually had copies of The NME and Melody Maker a few weeks out of date and I devoured them avidly whenever I was in town. The J&MC began to take up more and more column space as Spring became summer. My first impression, (not being able to hear the records), was ooh controversy, they look a bit dangerous, and they've modelled their hair on Ian McCulloch's but they might have washed their's first.

 Part 2:

Right I've got it on the turntable now. Some records are best heard that way. Just Like Honey. That's some start to an album. Agreed John, its use in Lost in Translation is something else. First year at university. UEA, Norwich. I had three guys in my corridor who had just the same music taste as mine. Same went for films, books, politics and everything else. We should have formed a band really. None of us bought or even really discussed Psychocandy when it came out. They played UEA in February '86. I didn't go. I think I was slightly suspicious of their 'notoriety'. It was one of those legendary gigs you had to be at. My soon to be girlfriend Min was there, a budding photographer, taking photos with her classic camera. So was Rod, the guy in the room next to me, still in touch with him. He still talks about it. He came back virtually frothing at the mouth about how great they'd been. They'd kept the crowd waiting an absolutely ridiculous amount of time, an hour after they were due, to whip up the requisite rage and hysteria. When they came on they were pelted with beer. They turned on their heels, Jim said, 'don't be so fucking stupid' and they were gone again. Another half hour or so and they returned and you got the requisite twenty minutes of feedback and beauty. It must have been something even if that was as long as they could actually play at that point. I should have gone. The record still doesn't really do it for me, even though I recognise just how good it is, playing the copy I inherited from Min when we went our separate ways after university. She was such a sweetie. I remember her twisting her hand round like she was clutching a microphone and howling The Hardest Walk (one of the best things on here) into it. My tastes are more classical and I'm always suspicious of bands who say 'we're going to make one perfect album and then die in a plane crash leaving perfect corpses' but don't. Instead putting out album after album for decades and ending up sounding much like every other band. Manics, Guns & Roses and most regrettably Birdland and Gay Dad, who thankfully didn't last as long. Still, this was a really necessary record at the time, (Live Aid remember), and signaled that beneath the bluster, the Reid's were a couple of classic songwriters. Every song on here frankly, beneath the fuzz. Have really enjoyed listening to it again but I think the record needs a damned good clean.

Darklands:

Part 1:

Good set of songs. Some of them excellent. Without the feedback and Year Zero statement of putting out a debut album about full on revolution from your bedroom on a major they become another Rock band to some extent. Existentialism and Rebellion in the marketplace. Those Sympathy for the Devil woo woos in 9 Million Rainy Days are telling. Despite the pose and wishful thinking Punk can actually only happen once. From this point lyrically they're really confined to Jesus & Mary Chain fridge magnet sentiments. Making love on the edge of the night. Tarantino stuff. Doesn't mean there aren't plenty of great songs to be mined from it. It probably depends how powerful that existential imagery is for you. White T-Shirt, Black Leather Jacket, Shades, 501s, motorcycles, Leader of the Pack. It was very strong at that stage of the Eighties. That Nick Kamen ad in the launderette, films like The Breakfast Club, Wild at Heart, Mickey Rourke in virtually every film he was in, Springsteen even. Darklands of course is a very Springsteen title. It's a good record. But it's a pose. You're on WEA and you want us to buy your records and go and see you on your supporting tour. And you'll play a reasonably full set and give value for money this time round. But for many it might seem less exciting. A strong, well produced set of songs which I'm sure the label were really happy with. April Skies does stand out as a classic even though all the songs are pretty strong. They can write that's for sure.

Parts 2 & 3:

Some memories from these days. Being driven through London late at night in a van that appeared to be falling to pieces. Sat in the back with a German friend Holger by the back doors. In the company of my younger sister and her indie gang of mates. Heroes, Edwyn Collins, Jonathan Richman, Ian McCulloch and Julian Cope. Driven by Jeff who is now my brother-in-law. His words as we got in, 'I haven't had an accident in ages' not particularly encouraging. Going to Speed, an Indie Club with Douglas Hart DJ-ing in one of the squares behind Tottenham Court Road. The whole J&MC and Primal Scream and Creation bunch were there. I can't remember many other people. They really did hang around like a gang. Quite intimidating really. Records I remember. The kind of thing they played at Indie clubs in those days in London and Brighton. Suicide's Ghost Rider, Nancy & Lee and the one I remember from this night especially Orange Blossom Special by Johnny Cash which certainly served the purpose of clearing the dancefloor at the end of the night.

My other memory of these people from this time. Walking across Bushy Park in Teddington where my parents live, with my sister to Hampton Wick where Primal Scream are playing a gig to support their first album Sonic Flower Groove, ('Woo!' Bobby). They're all hanging around behind us in the small venue. We are talking to a bloke I went to secondary school with who appears to be completely washed up at the age of 22. It happened quite a lot in the privileged part of London I grew up in. He seems much more interested in chatting up my sister which I'm not at all happy about. He's really slimy, overweight and balding already. The support band are very clean cut and unmemorable. At the end of the set they say, 'This is a cover of a song by The Byrds. It's called Feel a Whole Lot better.' and play a perfectly presentable version of a great song. Behind us Gillespie and McGee laugh behind their hands really obviously and unpleasantly. It says it all about them. My sister and I still remember and talk about it. Gillespie and McGee both love The Byrds but they're such ridiculous elitist snobs. Primal Scream are essentially Byrds meet Love copyists at this point. But they're so superior and full of themselves. No one else can like them. Primal Scream go on to play an unexceptional set which is really just a tribute to their favourite records of 1967. I think Bobby is wearing his excellent polka-dot shirt. Right that's all of my J&MC / Bobby Gillespie anecdotes. I can just get on with enjoying the records from now on.