But, what, no Altered Images? Gasp.
The Scars
This Edinburgh band was formed in early 1977
by brothers Paul and John Mackie. A window ad in a record store roped in
idiosyncratic vocalist Robert King and drummer Calumn Mackay and away they went.
Long after their first gig at Balerno Scout Hall, the four-piece signed for
fabled local label, Fast Product, which was notable for issuing early releases
by The Human League, Gang of Four, The Mekons and Joy Division. Their debut
album, Author! Author!, arrived in 1981 and earned five stars in Sounds and a
rave review from the NME’s Paul Morley. I can’t disagree with either of those
writers: it wasn’t always an easy listen but it was a magnificent piece of
work; a kind of post-punk goth menagerie. Ahead of their time some say, and
despite leaving a back catalogue of excellent singles and the album, The Scars
were gone by 1982.
Josef K
They lasted two years (if that), released
one album during their existence, and scrapped another - a decision that is
almost universally regarded as one of the biggest mistakes in pop history - but
Josef K are one of the most feted and cultist bands to emerge from the
post-punk era. Franz Ferdinand, for instance, love ‘em. Josef K were formed in
1979 and after one single on the obscure Absolute label signed to Alan Horne’s
Postcard Records. Two singles were released on the legendary label and in late
1980 they were preparing to issue their debut album, Sorry For Laughing, when
it was suddenly shelved, apparently because it was “too polished”. It wasn’t
till July 1981 that a Josef K album came out. The Only Fun in Town featured
reworked versions of five of the songs on the Sorry for Laughing album. A month
later they broke up. You can get both albums on a combined release and make up
your own mind which should have been issued first.
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| The dizzyingly esoteric Associates |
The Associates
Anyone who had had the pleasure of visiting
this writer’s previous enterprise, Porky Prime Cuts, will be familiar with my
love of The Associates, who were responsible for the most lavish and
extraordinary album of the entire 1980s, Sulk. It was a hugely ambitious
effort, in terms of sound, attitude, and lyrics, with Billy MacKenzie’s spellbinding
octave-scaling voice to the fore. It even spawned some hits – Party Fears Two, Club Country, and Love
Hangover, leading to some fantastically over-the-top TV appearances. Other
contemporary former indie-experimental bands like the Human League and Scritti
Politti achieved success but they did so by embracing a commercial sound and
swanky clothing/dashing hair-dos. In contrast, The Associates told the world
through their third studio album: this is us, take it or leave it. Sulk was
both opulent and strange. MacKenzie's lyrics were dizzyingly esoteric, with Skipping’s infamous couplet
"ripping ropes from the Belgian wharfs / breathless beauxillious griffin
once removed seemed dwarfed", baffling everyone. Their year of magnificent
triumph was also their last as MacKenzie and Alan Rankine parted ways before
Christmas. MacKenzie revived The Associates two years later, but other than the
operatic pop opus of Waiting For the Love
Boat it was never quite the same.
Simple Minds
Clearly we’re not talking of the Don’t You Forget About Me-era Minds, or
frankly any version of the band after 1983. In the cavalcade of mediocrity that
Jim Kerr et al have subjected the world to over the past three decades, it’s
easy to forget how sublime the Glaswegians were in a frighteningly glorious
spell from 1979 to 1983, with seven albums running the gamut from euro
electronic to proto-stadium rock. Empires and Dance (1980) is long forgotten
but is memorable for the futuristic single I,
Travel. A couple of albums released on the same day in 1981, and
effectively siblings, developed the prog rock meets new romantic sound. The
zenith was New Gold Dream (81-82-83-84), released in the second of those years.
Margaret Thatcher was in power and there was war, mass unemployment, and inner
city decay, but there was a feeling that music shouldn’t be dragged down by it
all. Kerr’s vocals are masterly, bridging the great divide between the new
romantic era and crooners. Three singles from New Gold Dream became unlikely
hits, including Promised You A Miracle,
but it was the lumbering, neo-experimental tracks like King Is White and In the Crowd and the title track that shone brightest.
By 1983, the Minds were moving in new directions and while that would end in
U2-esque stadia glitz, there was life in the old dog yet, and Sparkle in the
Rain straddled the synth pop Minds with a beefier sound.
The Cocteau Twins
They weren’t twins nor they were from one
of the main centres. They hailed from the unlikely oil refinery town of Grangemouth.
Initially, they were dismissed as dour, sun-hating goths, which wasn’t entirely
dispelled by their opening records. They cast out a spiky, dissociative sound
with Liz Fraser’s ethereal, high-pitched vocals and nonsensical lyrics. A
committed fanbase propelled them into the UK top 30 in 1984 with Pearly Dewdrops’ Drops, and there was
plenty of critical acclaim (one tale is that Prince ordered their entire back
catalogue), but they remained very much an acquired taste until 1990’s Heaven
Or Las Vegas opened them up to a new audience. There is now a massive reissue
project taking place so there’s no excuse for not seeking them out.
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| An early Orange Juice line-up |
Orange Juice
A Glasgow mob that had a monster hit in
1983 in the shape of Rip It Up, which
broke free from the synth coterie of New Romanticism to smash into the UK’s top
10. Orange Juice were founded in the ever-so-pleasant suburb of Bearsden,
originally as Nu-Sonics by Edwyn Collins, Alan Duncan, James Kirk and Steven
Daly, with a name that immediately eschewed the macho posturing and pseudo
rebellion of punk. They released a handful of promising singles, including Blue Boy and Simply Thrilled Honey, during 1980 and 1981 on Postcard. Polydor Records snapped them up and
released the You Can't Hide Your Love Forever album in 1982, but Kirk and Daly
left that same year. There would be a few more line-up changes before they
split in 1984. Edwyn Collins went solo and would record a Northern Soul tinged
epic A Girl Like You that was so huge
it could only be avoided in the UK during the summer of 1995 by hiding in a
cupboard.
The Skids
The finest thing to come out of Dunfermline
since steel tycoon and public libraries proponent Andrew Carnegie. The Skids
were formed around the nucleus of Richard Jobson and Stuart Adamson, who would
go to form Big Country, a band that, for very good reasons, were never going to get onto this list even if it was expanded to 97. They had several top 20
hits - Into The Valley and Working For The Yankee Dollar, as well
as Masquerade, and there was the
excellent album, The Absolute Game, released in 1980. And there was The Saints Are Coming, which was so good
it had to have the tag team of U2 AND Green Day to cover it. They had songs
about the conflict in Ireland and signing up to the British army because Fife’s
traditional industries had been decimated. And there was also a song about
Coronation Street’s uber curmudgeon Albert Tatlock.
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| That Desperadoes compilation you've probably never heard of .. |
Jesse Garon and the Desperadoes
A little twee, perhaps, but no list should
ever be fundamentally entrenched in their ideals, and therefore this Edinburgh
act, formed in the mid-80s sneak their way in on account of their slightly subversive
singles and for being, well, damn fucking good.
Their sound was typical of the mid-80s, with scratchy guitars, melody,
and a male-female vocal dynamic. A string of singles and EPs, such as Splashing Along and The Adam Faith Experience, saw the light of day, but no studio
album emerged – although there was certainly enough material for one. That
would be rectified in 1989 through the compilation, A Cabinet of Curiosities,
which reunited their early singles and EPs to splendid effect. It was not all
love and lust and breaking up: a later single, Grand Hotel referenced the IRA’s bombing of the Brighton building
that nearly killed Mrs Thatcher. And there was no Jesse Garon in the band: the
name was appropriated from Elvis Presley's stillborn twin brother, Jesse Garon
Presley. Ain’t that just sick? But brilliant.
The Fire Engines
Ingrained in that same Caledonian post-punk
movement of Postcard Records, The Skids, and a smattering of short-lived but no
less brilliant acts, the Fire Engines, irrespective of their seemingly squeaky
clean name, were more abrasive and discordant than their peers. The Engines
(named, in fact, after a 13th Floor Elevators’ track), packaged their debut
album, the manic Lubricate Your Living Room (Background Music for Action
People!) in a plastic carrier bag. A subsequent non-album single, Candyskin, was an about-face that
accentuated Davy Henderson's nasal vocals and introduced a string section. They
had ideas aplenty, but despite another illuminating 7-inch, Big Gold Dream, disbanded in late 1981. Henderson
and Russell Burn would seek chart success and world domination (neither
succeeded) in Win which this blog has explored in the very recent past.
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| Cartoon punks, The Rezillos |
The Rezillos
Their cartoon punk sound earned them a tour
with The Ramones and a deal with Sire, but after only two years and one album,
they were gone-burger. That was some album and they even featured on Top of the
Pops, with the cheekily named single Top
of the Pops. Guitarist and songwriter Jo Callis helped the Human League achieve
mega-success, while co-singers Eugene Reynolds and Fay Fife formed the
Revillos, a sort of continuation of the Rezillos, but with a bigger 60s pop
sound. The Rezillos have recently reformed and unlike many of their
contemporaries, aren’t being laughed at. The Rezillos are alluded to twice in
The Bridge by the well-known Scots author Iain Banks. So there you go.
The Jesus and Mary Chain
Who’d have thought a new town could spawn
such a magnificent monster. The Jesus and Mary Chain were formed in East
Kilbride, a Glasgow overspill. Their coruscating debut single, Upside Down, scared children and
grannies alike. They played notorious gigs at which pissing off the audience
wasn’t an issue, and unleashed Psychocandy, one of the most anti-pop but
brilliant albums of the 80s. Brothers Jim and William Reid and two mates made a
record that was one part bubblegum pop and three parts lacerating guitar
feedback. It sounded like Abba covering The Birthday Party while locked in a
mineshaft. They never did quite match those feats thereafter, but a sensible
move towards the mainstream resulted in a good few pop albums, like the
follow-up, Darklands. They’re still going and are still very potent.
And with that final inclusion, Craig offers
up not 10, but a distinctly OCD-defying 11 great Scottish post-punk bands.
Let’s be honest, he’s done well to stop there. Thanks Craig.
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