'He wants an excuse To be where King Richard rules.'
One of their best early songs.
34. I'm All Right (Robert)
'Splashing and dashing myself. A sad man. Trying to lift a hundred weight. If I can.'
From the original band's last record. The Pop classic 16 Lovers Lane. Perhaps on the surface dominated by Grant's songs, That's not the whole story. Robert's are of a piece. Relaxed, contemplative, trembling and quite beautiful. Songs for the sensitive.
33, Slow, Slow Music (Grant)
'I got myself a mortgage. It didn't save the marriage. We weren't insured. Insured against breakage.'
And by contrast, the band at their early, jarring best when their was still the edge of Post Punk about them.
32. Quiet Heart (Grant)
'Doesn't matter how far you've come. You've always got further to go.'
And back to 16 Lovers Lane. And Grant. About intimacy.
31. That Way (Grant)
'Inspired by shadows. Driven by tears.'
Back again. To their first classic. 1982's Before Hollywood.
A series that makes me look forward to next week. And I know what's coming!
With Grandaddy I made the mistake of buying the wrong record, their first album Under The Western Freeway. It has its moments but is a bit patchy so I neglected its follow up The Sophtware Slump when it came out and until now. I discovered on Thursday morning on choosing to give it a listen at work, that it's a classic. A very sad record about what we've all lost in our world of hyper-technology and our mad rush to embrace and immerse ourselves in it.. This track stands for the whole very well. Brilliant!
201. Jan & Dan
202. Santigold
203. The Boomtown Rats
204. Tim Rose
205. Toots & the Maytals
206. Bobby Darin
207. Billy Swan
208. Marcia Griffiths
209. King Creosote
210. Led Zeppelin
211. Hortense Ellis & Prince Weedy
212. SBTRKT
213. The Pogues
214. Twin Peaks
215. The June Brides
216. The Nips
217. Kate Bush
218. Midlake
219. The History of Apple Pie
220. Dr Alimintado
221. Dr. Savannah's Original Savannah Band
222. White Reaper
223. Orange Juice
224. The Bangles
225. The Allah-Lahs
226. The Exciters
227. Ty Segall
228. Agincourt
229. Baxter Dury
230. The Tyde
231. The Pretty Things
232. The Pastels
233. The New York Dolls
234. Life Without Buildings
235. Felt
236. Sugar
237. Bo Diddley
238. Music Go Music
239. The Troggs
240 Mark Mulcahey
241. U2
242. Hiss Golden Messenger
243. Nilsson
244. Spacemen 3
245. Buffalo Springfield
246. Immigrant Union
247. The Fall
248. Phil Phillips
249. Scritti Politi
250. Slapp Happy
251. Phosphorescent
252. ATV
253. Caitlin Rose
254. Opal
255. Frank Sinatra
256. Lena Horne
257. Hookworms
258. Urge Overkill
259. Jeff Buckley
260. Sergio Mendes & Brasil 66
261. The Sundays
262. The Monochrome Set
263. Joan As Policewoman
264 Bradford
265. The Growlers
266. Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan
267. The Who
268. Marcelo Carmelo
269. The Wipers
270. Eric Burdon & The Animals
271. Mission Of Burma
272. Thurston Moore
273. The John Steel Singers
274. Pixies
275. Brigitte Fontaine
276. Tindersticks
277.McGough & McGear
278. Le Roux
279. Yo La Tengo
280. Smoke Fairies
281. ABBA
282. Steely Dan
283. Jimmy Cliff
284. The Beta Band
285. John Lennon
286. Young Fathers
287. Lou Reed
288. Beth Orton
289. Julian Cope
290. Tuff Love
291. John Denver
292. Leonard Cohen
293. The Beach Boys
294. Jim Noir
295. James
296.. My Bloody Valentine
297. Barrington Levy
298. Spectres
299, Fun Boy 3
300. The Saints
and here are the earlier editions:
101. The Charlatans
102. Magazine
103. Lush
104. The Stoney Poneys
105. The Allman Brothers
106. John Cale
107. Toni Harper
108. Tammi Lynn
109. Althea & Donna
110. Bobby Womack
111. Japan
112. The Strangeloves
113. David Bowie
114. The Handsome Family
115. Echo & the Bunnymen
116. Grant Lee Buffalo
117. The Jim Carroll Band
118. Waylon Jennings
119. Carl Douglas
120. Otis Redding
121. Peter & the Pirates
122. Strawberry Switchblade
123. Ben Harper
124. Shoes
125. The Capitols
126. Dusty Springfield
127. Fats Domino
128. Buddy Holly & the Crickets
129. Josef K
130. The Feelies
131. The Heptones
132. Minnie Ripperton
133. The Go Betweens
134. France Galle
135. Loretta Lynn
136. Half Pint
137. Death in Vegas
138. Sun House
139. The Liminanas
140. The Organ
141. Gladys Knight & the Pips
142. Viv Albertine
143. The Ikettes
144. The Ronettes
145. The Fresh & Onlys
146. TV On The Radio
147. Grizzly Bear
148. The Jimi Hendrix Experience
149. 23 Skidoo
150. Nicodemus
151. Serge Gainsbourg
152. The Moles
153. Devo
154. The Go! Team
155. Kim Wilde
156. Brian Eno
157. The Langley Schools Music Project
158. The Cure
159. George Jones
160. The Gun Club
161. David Hemmings
162. Sugar Chile Robinson
163. John Phillips
164. October Country
165. Lloyd Cole & the Commotions
166. Francois & the Atlas Mountains
167. Dexys Midnight Runners
168. Andy Williams
169. Kraftwerk
170. Jackie Mittoo
171. Martha
172. The Chills
173. Richard Barrett
174. Mazes
175. Strawberry Alarm Clock
176. Bruce Springsteen
177. J.D.McPherson
178. Elliott Smith
179. Liz Phair
180. East Brunswick All Girls Choir
181. Future Islands
182. Split Enz
183. The Walking Who
184. Townes Van Zandt
185. Bill Callahan
186. The Mantles
187. Sam & Dave
188. Aztec Camera
189. Jimmy Scott
190. Reigning Sound
191. Sparks
192. Rosetta Hightower
193. Big Star
194. Crime
195. Johnny Cash
196. Moby Grape
197. Katty Line
198. Sinead O'Connor
199. Ultimate Painting
200. The Kinks
The most laid back song from a turbo-powered debut album. From 1977. Brisbane Punks. Quite reminiscent, at least for me, of Sticky Fingers Stones. Especially Sway. But a truly great song in its own right at the same time. Three hundred consecutive days. Almost made my way around the sun.
'Enola Gay. You should have stayed at home yesterday.'
Perhaps 'great' in inverted commas on this one. An example of the remarkable ability of the Pop Song to transform the utterly profound and devastating into sheer triviality and disposability in a way that almost nothing else can. Good song mind. About the plane that delivered the Hiroshima and Nagasaki H-Bombs of course.
Donald Roeser (Buck Dharma), guitar, vocals, Blue Oyster Cult born today. Here's their fine 1976 collaboration with Patti Smith who was romantically linked at one point with band leader Allen Lanier.
Adrain Crowley's new album, released today is just wonderful. It's called Some Blue Morning and has had no press fanfare whatsoever that I can make out. Nothing on YouTube from it. Next to nothing on the internet that I can see save this. I'll try to post something directly when I can. .In the meantime I recommend it highly.
A quite beautiful piece of music. Opening track from the debut album of a Bristol band whose debut album will be out early next year. It dissolves into noise round about the five minute mark. Their You Made Me Realise moment. You might think they're amplifying the sound of their vacuum cleaner for a couple of minutes. Then they come out of the tunnel at seven.
As I chug along to 100,000 hits on the blog which is nice, it's back to the album I started the whole thing with. Murmur. It never fails me. I guess with most people and music you always come back to one or two records and this is always the one for me. Today it takes me back to the Hotel / Guesthouse in Locarno, Switzerland I spent six months of my year off in 1985. Almost thirty years ago. Drying up in the kitchen on a winter evening with a German colleague and good friend who I converted to R.E.M during that time with a battered old cassette that had Murmur on the one side and Reckoning on the other. Him imitating the great riff to this song as it played. He's no longer with us and I miss him. Here's to you Holger!
My Bloody Valentine in their early days when they were another indie band. You can recognise their sound in the process of formation before the pedals, sheer noise and waves of sound came in. Short and sweet.
A Guardian article from a few years back about true pioneers.
'Every night I thought I'd be killed'
Even punks hated Suicide, reacting to their gigs with astonishing violence. In response, the band locked the exits so no one could flee. Jon Wilde asks them how they survived it all,
Suicide ... 'If the violence got really bad, I'd smash a bottle and start cutting my face up'. Photograph: Sarah Lee
Be it headlining Glastonbury or supporting Led Zeppelin at Knebworth, most bands that have been around for close to 40 years have one unforgettable, career-defining gig. Suicide are no exception. "That would be the show in Glasgow in 1978 when someone threw an axe at my head," says Alan Vega with admirable matter-of-factness. "We were supporting the Clash and I guess we were too punk even for the punk crowd. They hated us. I taunted them with, 'You fuckers have to live through us to get to the main band.' That's when the axe came towards my head, missing me by a whisker. It was surreal, man. I felt like I was in a 3-D John Wayne movie. But that was nothing unusual. Every Suicide show felt like world war three in those days. Every night I thought I was going to get killed. The longer it went on, the more I'd be thinking, 'Odds are it's going to be tonight.'"
Vega, now 59, is sitting with his long-time Suicide cohort Martin Rev (age undisclosed) in the reception area of an east London branch of the Holiday Inn. Vega looks wonderfully sinister in his shades and street-fighter beret. Rev, in a distressed leather jacket and visor sunglasses, looks as if he has stepped off the set of Mad Max 2. It's fair to say that they don't blend in with the blue-rinsed sightseers and Swedish language students who mingle in the foyer.
Then again, Suicide never did blend in with anything or anybody. While this helped them become one of the most reviled bands of all time, it didn't stop them becoming one of the most influential. It's Kraftwerk who get the kudos for furthering the cause of electronic music, inspiring a generation of pop and rock bands to use synthesisers. But Suicide surely merit at least equal billing. Not only were they the blueprint for every synth-and-voice duo of the 1980s, they were equally influential on the industrial music and, quite possibly, techno scenes that followed. In a tribute album to mark Vega's 60th birthday this month, the contributors' list includes Primal Scream, Peaches, Grinderman, the Horrors, the Klaxons, Julian Cope, Vincent Gallo and even long-time Suicide fan Bruce Springsteen, who donates a live version of Dream Baby Dream.
The Brooklyn-born Alan Bermowitz (Vega) and Bronx-born Martin Reverby (Rev) first met up in 1971. Vega was engaged with sculptures and far-flung electronic experiments at the Project of Living Artists, a downtown workshop funded by the New York State Council On the Arts. Rev, already a veteran of avant-jazz ensembles, wandered into the workshop to escape the torrential rain. The two hit it off and began performing together at local galleries. Their second show was entitled Punk Music Mass, which is said to have been the first time a band used the word "punk" in an official context to describe their music. The name Suicide was inspired by Satan Suicide, an issue of Vega's favourite comic book, Ghost Rider.
When Vega and Rev started making music, they were both limited and liberated by their poverty. Often starving, living on a sandwich a day between them and unable to afford proper instruments, they made their music on the one instrument available to them: Rev's $10 Wurlitzer keyboard, over which Vega would improvise.
"For a long time, we didn't have songs as such," Vega says. "So Marty would repeatedly kick his keyboard and I'd hit the microphone stand with a broken bottle or make these horrible noises come out of a trumpet. Then I graduated to screaming, and eventually that led to writing actual lyrics." Unsurprisingly, there were few takers for Suicide's music. "People were looking to be entertained," says Vega. "But I hated the idea of going to a concert in search of fun. Our attitude was, 'Fuck you buddy, you're getting the street right back in your face. And some.' At one of our first shows, there was a guy in the audience who'd brought this trombone. I jumped into the audience, fell over and knocked the slide out of his trombone. These South Americans took real offence to that. So they immediately attacked us with chairs, tables, anything they could get their hands on. That became the norm. I started carrying a bicycle chain on stage, figuring, if you can't beat em, join em. If the violence got really bad, what I'd do was smash a bottle and start cutting my face up. That seemed to have a calming effect on the crowd. I guess they reasoned that I was so fucking nuts that nothing they could do would bother me. I figured out a way of doing it so that I drew a lot of blood but I wouldn't be scarred for life. I had it down to a fine art. Another ploy I had was to lock the exit doors so nobody could escape. That was the ultimate 'fuck you', as far as I was concerned."
Rev is nodding thoughtfully to all this. "I was convinced we were going to be as big as the Beatles," he chips in, without irony. "All the hostility we were getting did nothing to change that. Even when the violence was going on and the blood was spilling, I'd be thinking that the crowd knew we were doing something from the future. But it wasn't a future they wanted to know about. So the antagonism got stronger and stronger. The only reaction we didn't get was being attacked by wolves. But that's only because you weren't allowed to take wolves into clubs."
By 1975, Rev had acquired a 1950s drum machine, which expanded their musical possibilities exponentially. Vega had got hold of a two-track tape recorder, which enabled Suicide to make their first demos. Meanwhile, the New York music scene was being transformed by a wave of new bands (the Ramones, Television, the Patti Smith Group, Blondie, Talking Heads) performing regularly at CBGB. One by one, those bands were signed by major record labels, while Suicide continued to be conspicuously overlooked.
It wasn't until mid-1977 that Suicide finally secured a deal, with the small French label Red Star. Their eponymous debut was released the following year. Possibly the most paranoid-sounding album ever made, Suicide's seven tracks feature Vega's spluttering rockabilly vocal fighting it out against throbbing drum machines and Rev's dissonant keyboard. The album's centrepiece is the profoundly unsettling Frankie Teardrop, about a Vietnam vet who slaughters his family.
In the US, the album was greeted by howls of disgust from reviewers. European critics, however, adored it. Sensing they'd finally found an audience ready to embrace them, Vega and Rev flew to Britain to join the Clash on tour.
"We genuinely believed that we'd get a reception fit for returning war heroes," says Vega. "But it was like going from the frying-pan to the fire. The axe in Glasgow was just one of many weapons hurled at us. When we played in Metz, someone scored a direct hit on me with a monkey wrench. I've still got the scar on my head. Supporting Elvis Costello in Brussels, we provoked a full-scale riot and the venue was stormed by police letting off tear-gas canisters. Then something very strange happened. We headlined our own tour of Britain and ended up in Edinburgh. Two songs in and there was no riot, which was very, very unusual. Then we started to see people move around. I turned to Marty and said, 'Here we go - watch out for flying objects.' To my amazement, people started dancing. I turned back to Marty and said, 'We're finished, our career is over.'"
Live 1977-1978, a limited-edition, six-CD box set featuring 13 complete live Suicide sets, gives a taste of what those gigs were like. Not every live release comes with the stark warning, "These recordings are not for the fainthearted or casual fan". The Suicide gigs were recorded on cheap, handheld cassette recorders, and it's often difficult to distinguish the sound of the band from the background noise (smashing glass and bloodthirsty heckling). Stick the CDs into your computer and, faced with a choice of genre, iTunes unhesitatingly opts for "unclassifiable". Very astute, that. After their uncomfortable introduction to Europe, Vega and Rev spent time in limbo. "Malcolm McLaren offered to manage us but he wanted to turn us into a disco outfit, so we politely declined," Rev says. Instead, they delivered a second album, also entitled Suicide, produced by Ric Ocasek of the Cars. A more polished affair, it sold in shockingly small numbers.
Vega and Rev went their separate ways. Astonishingly, for a brief period in the early 1980s Vega became a pop star in France, and won himself a deal with a major label that unsuccessfully attempted to market him as an alternative Bruce Springsteen. He has since continued to release solo albums, the latest being 2008's Station, and has supported himself by selling his sculptures, "mostly to rich Texans who don't realise there's usually a good old New York cockroach stuck on the bottom". Rev, meanwhile, has eked out an even more precarious living by releasing the occasional solo album, producing small-time bands, or playing sessions with obscure electronic outfits.
From time to time, Vega and Rev have reunited for a Suicide tour or album. You sense they miss the days when dodging axes and monkey wrenches was simply part of the job.
"I guess we're a historical act now," asks Vega. "We've turned into fucking entertainers. It was never meant to turn out that way. But what can you do? People are completely unshockable now. Even if you brought a fresh corpse out on stage and started eating it with a fork, no one would bat an eyelid. Still, one of the things about playing live these days is that at least we know we're not going to die on stage. That's kinda nice, man."
An anecdote. Round about the mid-Eighties the place to go if you wanted to see Indie, Goth or Rock and Roll combos and lived in South West London as I did was The Hammersmith Clarendon. For bands who didn't trouble the charts but had a certain constituency, that you'd read about in the music press or heard on evening radio it was a great venue. I was there some time in 1987 to see The Weather Prophets. A clean-cut approachable Indie band on Creation Records with leather trousers and Chelsea boots. They ticked the boxes of my developing tastes, Velvet Underground, Television, The Byrds. They also mentioned the likes of Al Green in interviews but frankly it was difficult if not impossible to hear on their records. They were sliced white bread.They briefly gathered a bit of press attention round about the time I saw them and had signed, along with Primal Scream to an offshoot of WEA and managed an NME cover before sliding back into the second division over the next year.
The support band that night was one of the oddest things I'd ever seen. A rough and ready bunch of lairy blokes who were obviously as tough as nails and you wouldn't mess with under any circumstances if you saw them offstage. They sounded as if the four instrumentalists were playing in at least four completely different bands and as if the whole thing could and probably would fall to pieces at any moment. The singer had no obvious vocal talent and there was someone else onstage who didn't play or sing and had no obvious reason to be there at all. Bez, their dancer, I later figured. I'd like to say I underwent some kind of Road to Damascus experience but frankly they were too ramshackle to give you any impression that four years later they'd be bestriding the country like the Northern Rolling Stones. I think most of the other people there that night were similarly non-plussed.
So I've seen The Happy Mondays. I missed out on most of the other bands I should have been to see in the Eighties. The Smiths, Echo & the Bunnymen, Jesus & Mary Chain, Stone Roses (I had a cold). The only problem with my Mondays live experience was that I had no idea who they were. I didn't know I was seeing them. There were no obvious reference points at this stage. They just seemed like a bunch of chancers which it turned out was exactly what they were. Chancers who got lucky. It only clicked a couple of years later that I had when they started getting more attention from the press when they released their second album Bummed which I bought at the time and the penny dropped.
The record cover is one of the absolute classics. A lurid, technicolour impression of band leader Shaun Ryder, close up and ugly, 'a garish acid-dream painting'. It's difficult to give examples of covers that give a better impression of the disorientating listening experience of the vinyl they contain. The Happy Mondays are the gatecrashers that you don't want at your party.
The inner sleeve was a couple of 70s porn images of a very naked and very physical middle aged housewife that you made a point of not leaving out in case your mother decided to tidy your room. The Happy Mondays were pretty much unprecedented. They were the drug dealers from the estate in the part of town no-one would visit unless they had to grow up there. They had a real whiff of danger at a point in time when this was exactly what was needed. They did it how they wanted to.
Bummed. great dirty uncompromising name for a record, is not a melodic album. It's a fat slab of Northern life. A full English breakfast accompanied by a huge dirty spliff before moving on to the heavy stuff. There's a slower song at the beginning, a slower song at the end and in between the band shift up the accelerator and sound like they've raving off their faces.
It's impossible and pointless to talk about this record without discussing drugs at some point. No record I can think of is so completely saturated with it. Bummed doesn't particularly make it all seem an attractive prospect. It has no compass. The band don't necessarily seem to be enjoying it themselves. It was no revelation when it came out years later that they didn't get on. Shaun Ryder particularly was so far out there he must have been pretty much impossible to work with.
The record itself. It has The Country Song which was originally entitled Some C**t From Preston. It has the song where Shaun threatens to move in with you with his mates Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Goosie Lucy, Ducky Lucky and Chicky Licky. It has excerpts, namechecks and quotations throughout for the late Sixties classic Performance which seems to be its guiding soundtrack. At the start of the second side there's a quote from the compere of the Stones concert at Altamont.There's a song about Fat Lady Wrestlers and halfway through the second side a full blown porn scenario called Bring a Friend about Shaun getting his way with two willing sisters. It's not wholesome. It doesn't apologise or make allowances like much of the music of the time did. It doesn't try to be nice.
So it's neither wholesome, nice or melodic but it is, in its own way, ground-breaking. It's the sound of a band off their faces for most of the time whether in or out of the studio, getting a takeaway and some cans, lighting up, fumbling and stumbling towards a sound that will define their times. Producer Martin Hammett, a similar spirit in terms of lifestyle approach but a man capable of giving rough diamonds a sound they could sell as he'd already shown with Joy Divison, working his magic again for one of the last times before he died.
This all coalesces most obviously on Wrote For Luck which is a monster of a riff most of all, the largest song here, the one that leaps off the record. It eventually heralded their full crossover onto the dancefloor and brought them together with Paul Oakenfold who helped them break the charts.
Otherwise it can get a bit 'samey'. It's a record I don't play too often but am glad I've got because it's a bit of history. It's quite enclosed within its space and time, the scene it soundtracks, Manchester and Madchester, Acid House and The Hacienda, the Eighties becoming the Nineties. It hasn't aged too well and to be honest I don't understand the Mondays current spate of reunions except as ways of topping up their bank accounts. Still, good luck to them. They're all still here which shows they were all pretty hardened and could last the course.
For the record I'd go for Country Song, Moving In With, Fat Lady Wrestlers, Wrote For Luck, Do It Better and Lazyitis as the album picks. Lazyitis steals brazenly of course from Ticket To Ride but there's less obvious theft going on throughout the record. From Funkadelic, Sly & the Family Stone, The Stones, The Velvet Underground (one of the most interesting influences here, no coincidence that John Cale produced their first album). From pop and dance and punk and funk. They're magpies but they make it all their own. Lazyitis acts as a closer, a manifesto, proof positive that they can write songs and plan to write some more, and a soundtrack for Eighties dole culture which many of us look back on very fondly. It produced The Happy Mondays after all.
From their first min-album on Factory Records when they were coming on like some odd Folk combo or the band from Trumpton. They became big a few years down the track when Manchester briefly became the capital of the music world but this is my favourite track of theirs.
With the collected box set of the Go-Betweens early recordings a couple of months from my doorstep I thought I'd start a Top 40 countdown of my favourite songs. Utterly subjective of course and I've no doubt missed some great songs or not included some because I can't find a Youtube link. I've only included selections from their Seventies and Eighties heyday as I don't have all of their recordings from when they reformed though much of it is well worth investigating. Five a week 'til the box set arrives. I'll indicate the singer of each song though to some degree many of them were collaborative efforts.
40. I Just Get Caught Out (Robert)
'Out again tonight. Through these moonlit streets. We need a room. But there is no room.'
From 1987's Tallulah. quite a slight song by their standards but assured pop music and great harmonies.
39. Hammer The Hammer (Grant)
'He says what he wants, he stands up. She says what she thinks, she gives up.Her times up it won't change.'
1982 Rough Trade single. Angular and uncompromising.
38. Your Turn My Turn (Robert)
'Same place, some grace. Your turn, my turn. Stand it, stand it. Something involving a lie.Something between you and I. The light fades away. And the day turns to gray. And you say.'
Another early song. From Send Me A Lullaby. They sounded like no-one else at this point. I'd also recommend Eight Pictures from this record.
37. You've Never Lived (Robert)
'The risk was hers, every bit hers; I gave her this warning. Never love a man who has no sister, clings to your breast. Only you know him.'
From 1984's Spring Hill Fair. The record I first discovered them by.
36. Twin Layers Of Lightning (Robert)
'She walks me home There's a Mercedes parked in our street So we stop and we discuss Who on earth the owner could be that's just like me
I'd evade waking up If the alarm wouldn't ring I'd walk into quick sand If I knew how far I'd sink
Twin layers of trouble Two times that might Twin layers of lightning Both of us can strike
We went into a club, bouncers got no brains He said both of you are barred I had to set him straight Listen Jack, don't you know, I'm a star
Twin layers of trouble Two times that might Twin layers of lightning Both of us can strike
Some people have no money While other people have no tact If they invite us around Well, they're going to get a double act
We scream and we shout And then we love and we turn Then we set a chair on fire And we watch the whole house burn
Twin layers of trouble Two times that might Twin layers of lightning Both of us can strike
It's written in big letters Graffiti all over town It says, "Troublemakers on the run" And both our names are written down
Oh, but infamy or fame Each came in a small dose I just wish the day would come
When the last one would be so close
FORSTER, ROBERT DERWENT GARTH / MCLENNAN, GRANT WILLIAM
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From 1985's Liberty Belle And The Black Diamond Express. An album without a weak song.
From Davyhulme Manchester. I heard the last thirty seconds of this on the radio the other night and that was enough for me. Great pop music. In the spirit of Teenage Fanclub and The Beatles. Less than two and a half minutes. Great! Just out.
