1. Moose - Little Bird (Are You Happy In Your Cage?) (Hut)
This, really, is as jaunty as Moose ever got - a single ominously entitled "Little Bird (Are You Happy In Your Cage?)" combined with bouncy sunshine riffs and Russell's voice stretching itself to cracking point on the bouyant high notes.
Naturally, this is false optimism, a song reflecting a situation that is imperfect where one person is so blissfully happy in a relationship that all the power rests with the other, more indifferent, party. "Oh, I need so much more than YOU/ but in your eyes it's getting more wonderful" he sneers, "If you could see the things I do/ you'd know that it's all for me..."
As love songs go, this is superbly grouchy and skips down the road sarcastically, acknowledging the seldom spoken truth that sometimes the power of love can be an ensnaring and delusional thing, rather than a "beautiful" thing. If you're not listening to this song properly, you could kid yourself it's an innocent piece of fey romanticism. And if you're rushing high on adoration, you could trick yourself into believing that the "significant other" in your life cares about you, rather than tolerates having you around in lieu of any other better options.
2. Belly - Dusted (4AD)
Following her departure from Throwing Muses, Tanya Donnelly formed Belly who dropped into our lives with this, the likeable but inessential "Dusted". Sounding like the work of a band who were still beginning to understand each other's styles and working methods, and certainly inferior to the group's later work, it passes as an introduction to their world but is seldom talked about with great enthusiasm these days.
Largely propelled by one simple riff and Donnelly's obtuse lyrics, the actual single version - rather than the more polished LP track - isn't available online, leaving me to suspect that it may have been suppressed. It's surprising to hear how much of Belly's sound was nailed from the earliest baby steps of the group's career, but I doubt many non-fans of the group would hold this up as a must-listen of any kind. Indeed, my initial thoughts that Belly would probably be a very quickly done and forgotten prospect were proven horribly wrong when their debut LP "Star" shot to number one in 1993.
3. Swervedriver - Never Lose That Feeling (Creation)
Swervedriver were, along with Adorable, Creation's big new hopes. Emerging in 1992 with the defiant sounding "Son of Mustang Ford", they sounded like a band who were just as immersed in classic rock as they were shoegazing and The Jesus and Mary Chain. "Mustang Ford" in particular contained a lot of unapologetic and rough (and really thrilling sounding) fretboard workouts.
"Never Lose That Feeling" isn't quite the same sound, but is still as washed-out and dreamy sounding as hard guitar sounds allow themselves to get. Like a snowplough piling through a residential property in slow motion, it's a thundering, crashing noise taking place at a calm, undisturbed pace.
4. Smashing Pumpkins - I Am One (Hut)
Meanwhile, The Pumpkins enter into our lives again with some rumbling, thundering, inconclusive riffola which never progresses, moves, or wanders from the first heavy few seconds onwards. This is Hard Rock with a grunge tag slyly slipped on to it in the hope nobody would notice - although unlike an enormous amount of hard rock, it's a tedious slog of a listening exercise.
Bottom heavy, fussy sounding and minimal but lacking in adrenalin or groove, "I Am One" is a knuckle-dragging piece of work which probably sounds amazing if you come into the office on a dress-down Friday wearing double denim. I, however, won't be sorry if I don't have to listen to this dreck again for another twenty-five years. It's almost impossible for me to understand how something so loud and gut-thumping can induce so much yawning.
5. Come - Fast Piss Blues (Placebo)
It's hard for many people to remember now, but Boston's Come were actually huge press news in 1992. Fronted with the throaty, rasping vocals of Thalia Zadek, their music fitted in neatly with the dominant grunge scene of the time, but also (unlike the Pumpkins) could be incredibly edgy and threatening sounding, filled to the brim with dark chords and ominous rhythm patterns.
"Fast Piss Blues" gives a strong impression of their power, featuring meandering, demonic riffs combined with Zadek's furious vocal delivery. Sneering, kicking and screeching its way into the Indie Charts in 1992, this really was the group's only real commercial exposure in the UK. By the time they followed up their debut LP "11:11" with "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" in 1994, though, heads were being turned by other sounds and they slid back underground. For a few brief moments in '92 Come seemed like a very powerful emerging force, but the threat wasn't followed up with anything bigger.
Format: Double LP (plus bonus 12" single), CD, Cassette Year of Release: 1992
This was the beginning of a very brief revamp for the "Indie Top 20" series, which saw it rebadged as "Independent 20". The volume number was not specified on the sleeve (a quick look at the spine and the TT014 catalogue number was the only way you would know if you'd been out of the country or in a coma for some time). We were instead treated to a random and seemingly unrelated image to tell the volumes apart - in this case, some pelicans. Later volumes would include a water slide, and a picture of some smiling children on a day out. Don't ask me why. Presumably this was some kind of attempt to go a bit 4AD/ Factory with the series design and present some sleeves which were a little artier.
The sleevenotes returned too, and were a little less half-arsed this time around.
On vinyl this was a hugely expensive purchase at the time. It came with glossy inner sleeves and a "free" bonus twelve inch single (which mostly consisted of demos and studio doodles, and I honestly don't want to review separately) but I winced at the price tag which was far higher than usual.
The volume also coincided with British independent music hitting a creative and commercial trough. I had a friend at this time who would regularly correct my statement "This has been such a bad year for music" with the answer "Dave, every year is a good year for music". His logic was simple. Whether I knew it or not, good music was being released or played all the time, and even if one year was a particularly fallow period for new sounds, there would still be plenty of brilliant old music I hadn't discovered yet. Fair points all, but for the purposes of this blog, Volume 14 really coincides with a period where the alternative scene seemed to mostly slink back apologetically to the underground. Bands playing in small bars and groups issuing singles with wrap-around Xeroxed sleeves in polythene bags got more press and late-night airplay than they could have seriously imagined possible. Unlike C86, though, many of the groups were underground punk dinmakers. Nothing wrong with that, and there are some fine noises to be had here - but in many cases, some of these groups we'll be discussing were one-trick ponies who will never feature on the series again.
It's a peculiar LP and I must admit, probably one of my least favourites in the series. It's a very, very good snapshot of the kind of bands you would hear performing in dingy venues with overflowing urinals in late 1991 and 1992, but perhaps inevitably, lots of it fails to stand up to repeated listens.
1. Lush - For Love (4AD)
"Since their formation in 1988 and the release of the first mini-LP "Scar" in 1989, Lush have had to develop under the spotlight of the nation's music media. The 'For Love' EP and the recent Guthrie produced album 'Spooky' have proved beyond a doubt that Lush have been worthy of the attention which has been paid to them over the past three years".
Of all Lush's singles, even the later "Britpop" efforts, "For Love" feels strangely unrepresentative of the group. It's gently reflective and faintly satirical, and presents itself as a piece of fey contemplation on teenage love while biting hard with a noticeably feminist angle if you listen hard enough. "Happy just to be a prize/ Happy just to see his smile" suggests servitude, and choosing the role of the "girlfriend" as a secure badge of identity rather than genuine romance. It's easy to miss that through the chiming prettiness of it all, though.
"For Love" is a rather strange moment in Lush's catalogue, but not an unlikeable one.
2. Moose - Last Night I Fell Again (Hut)
"Moose shot out of musical obscurity in the early part of '91 with the release of their 'Jack' EP on the Hut label. 'Cool Breeze', their second EP, quickly followed and established Moose still further as an important and exciting new band. 'Lsat Night I Fell Again' is featured on their third EP 'Reprise' which sees Moose in a more melancholic mood. Do keep an eye on Moose as they have the talent to produce something rather remarkable in the future".
With its incessant shimmering backing and despairing, hungover sounding vocals, "Last Night I Fell Again" does indeed catch Moose at their moodiest, with their usual love for psychedelic effects pedal twiddling sidelined slightly for a lovelorn feel. While it was tempting for many critics at the time to write the group off as being another shoegazing band, time and more releases would prove that they actually had considerably more talent than that. Also tucked away on the "Reprise" EP is a track many consider to be their finest moment, the heartfelt ballad "This River Will Never Run Dry" - a full six minutes of jangly guitars, and fragile vocals singing of romantic commitment. "I wanna marry in the morning/ with the sunlight in our eyes/ I'm always near/ This river never will run dry" Russell Moose declares to a steadily building, innocent melody. It's one of those moments indie bands excel at where conventional mainstream groups often fail - sometimes you need imperfection, a cheap sounding guitar, and a wobbled vocal note to bring home how cracked but special the blessed ordinariness of life can be.
3. Revolver - Don't Ever Leave (Hut)
"Revolver emerged in '91 as the torch bearers of new order in independent music. They soon signed to Hut and have released two critically acclaimed singles to date. The first, 'Heaven Sent An Angel', silenced those journalists who claimed the band were just hype. The following 'Crimson' EP which 'Don't Ever Leave' is taken from, is a collection of tender tracks which prove that Revolver will definitely be a force to be reckoned with in the months and years to come".
Whatever. To be honest, few things fill me with less hope than the declaration "Here's something from a Revolver EP which isn't the lead track", and in this case that wouldn't be remotely unreasonable of me. "Don't Ever Leave" is four minutes of heavily distorted bass noises, DIY wooden box drum patterns, and woe-filled vocals. Full credit to the group for taking things in a much less obvious direction and experimenting with the possibilities of sound in an unpredictable way, but the song itself is so simplistic that no amount of lo-fi sonic shenanigans can save it. The initial, elephant-thudding, mocking three-note riff dominates throughout, making for a deeply dreary listening experience, and it's a blessed relief when the damn thing is finally over.
4. Mercury Rev - Car Wash Hair (the bee's chasing me) Full Pull (Mint Films/ Jungle)
"Mercury Rev are a six-piece from Buffalo, New York who took the independent music scene by storm in '91 with the release of their 'Yerself Is Steam' LP. They have been compared to various bands such as Sonic Youth, Pink Floyd, Jane's Addiction and Butthole Surfers. 'Car Wash Hair' was their debut single which earned Mercury Rev a Melody Maker single of the week".
"Car Wash Hair" had the distinct advantage of sounding very little like any of the other bands being thrown at us in late 1991. Simultaneously psychedelic, mellow, ponderous and preposterous, it recalled the post-summer of love comedown noises of obscure sixties American psychedelic bands. Few bands had ever entered the fray with such a damaged sounding record - "Car Wash Hair" sounds like the product of a group who have already enjoyed their fair share of hallucinogenic drugs and are now freaking out in Studio Three trying to record their final flop album in a fried and tragic state. The pinging radar noise throughout sounds like a hint that the group are looking for life - something, anything tangible to cling on to.
It's a fine piece of work, obviously. A fluttering, steadily building piece of soft beauty which never quite falls over into total chaos, however much it threatens to. Mercury Rev would eventually reach success with a more conventionally epic sound, but this single indicates that their beginnings were almost entirely grounded in a frail and occasionally frightening kind of psychedelia. There was a slight sense that they didn't quite know what they were doing, but the whole thing worked out fine anyway. It's a thrill to hear the group walk the tightrope successfully.
5. Throwing Muses - Not Too Soon (4AD)
"Over the past six years Throwing Muses have been one of the most consistent bands to have come out of America. Signed to 4AD in '86, they have released a total of four EPs, one mini LP and four full length albums. 'Not Too Soon', taken from '91's "Real Ramona" LP, was written by Tanya Donelly who has since left the group. Both Tanya and the Muses are currently recording LPs for release this autumn".
Perhaps inevitably, "Not Too Soon" ends up sounding more like Tanya Donelly than most Throwing Muses tracks here, and - intentionally or otherwise - appeared to act as a showcase for her forthcoming work with the group Belly. While Hersh was always popularly regarded as the eccentric and creative genius within the group, her stepsister Donelly was often left to flounder somewhere in the background - doubtless a frustrating situation for someone with bags of talent of her own (and a very separate personality with an arguably more conventional charisma attached).
"Not Too Soon" is immediate evidence that Donelly could cope by herself. A killer riff is matched by her growling vocal force, and the tracks bursts into life from the first split second, Tanya snapping the track wide open with the words "She... colourblind, tired eyes..." while the Muses weave their magic behind her. The pounding drums and somewhat absurd, inarticulate chorus reveal that we're still very much in their territory, but this is nonetheless an oddly catchy and compelling single.
With Belly, Donelly would go on to become a mainstream media figure for awhile, and scored a number one LP in the British Charts with her debut LP "Star". Seldom have individuals breaking away from groups had so much success and acclaim so quickly on their own.
Their last single before rushing off to cash the banker's cheques offered to them by Fontana, "Shallow" was proof that Catherine Wheel had the pop chops to justify the jump away from the indie sector. While "Shallow" edges dangerously close to Ride sonically, the chorus is pure bliss, and the song itself shows no weaknesses at all, charging full-throttle through numerous elated and masterful guitar riffs on its way. "Heaven Sent An Angel" it isn't, being a pleasing tapestry of ideas which occur so quickly that it's initially impossible to realise quite how much is going on in a mere few minutes.
Following this, their career on Fontana was full of mixed fortunes. While they managed to maintain a small and loyal fanbase in the both the US and the UK, they consistently seemed on the brink of success rather than actually breaking through. Singles were released, all of which only just missed the Top 50, only to quickly disappear again. Their sound moved with the times, becoming much heavier and more rock orientated by the mid-nineties, but by 2000 it was all over. Compared to almost every other act of this era, they had a strange, dogged persistence, never giving up even when the scene around them shifted. Indeed, their lifespan went beyond the duration of the "Indie Top 20" series itself; an impressive achievement, but they seem doomed to remain a footnote in any alternative rock story.
2. The Telescopes - Flying (Creation)
The Telescopes had always had a slightly shoegazey sound to their work, of course, and in many ways could have been regarded as one of the earliest groups (along with Pale Saints) to appreciate that a broader listening public awaited for a dense, hypnotic noise. "Flying", though, really pulls things up a notch or two, feeling truly disorientating (still more so when you watch the impressively suitable video) and whooshing past in a rush of sonic mayhem. The sitar overload also indicates that late sixties psychedelic influences were at play, and the whole thing truly soars - appropriately, given the title.
Despite all this, and despite the fact that they had shunted over to Creation Records where a higher profile should surely have been expected, there was a sense that The Telescopes were beginning to become marginalised at this point, and by the tail end of 1992 they would cease to exist. It's impossible to put your finger on quite what they were doing wrong, and really they should have had a head start over their travelling companions - but rather like The Pale Saints, they felt strangely sidelined by the media.
3. Moose - Suzanne (Hut)
"Suzanne" really continues in a similar stylistic vein to "Jack" on "Volume 12", except rather like The Telescopes, Moose really pull out all the stops here to make the track a psychedelic blur. "She walks all over me/ I can't take it from her!" sings Russell, while the band's tune gets locked in the roar of a sonic wind tunnel. The track rattles and canters along to its inevitable chaotic death.
As a single, this got quite a few critics hot under the collar and caused some to revise their expectations of the band's success. The video got "Chart Show" exposure, they were observed being particularly chummy with Blur, and it was felt that perhaps a corner was being turned. In reality, Moose were far too maudlin and self-indulgent (albeit often in an interesting way) to truly vault into the mainstream, and "Suzanne" was and remains an interesting moment where a rather unlikely group became the subject of speculation. Startlingly, the Virgin subsidiary Hut Records didn't lose complete faith in them until 1992, meaning we'll be hearing more from them.
4. Spiritualized - Run (Dedicated)
Fuelled by a cheeky (and credited) steal from JJ Cale's "Call Me The Breeze", "Run" is actually a very repetitive, primal number by Spiritualized's usual standards - their previous single, a version of Lou Reed and John Cale's "Why Don't You Smile Now", took the rough simplicity of the original and turned it into a grandoise epic, whereas "Run" is a bluesy, foggy jog through rock's back pages, and the psychedelic elements do very little to disguise that.
Still, it's an enjoyable few minutes, and while the group had clearly yet to become the Class A gospel preachers of the indie circuit, it shows that a lot of headway had been made by Jason Pierce since parting company with Spacemen 3. Already, a unique and identifiable sound was starting to lock into place, and broader appreciation was theirs for the taking.
5. Midway Still - I Won't Try (Roughneck)
Midway Still represent the idea of forgotten early nineties indie heroes so well that one person even named a blog after them. "Because Midway Still Aren't Coming Back" was the title of one of the earliest online mp3 blogs dedicated to deleted and largely disregarded British nineties indie, and was obviously a bookmark in my web browser's menu bar.
Oddly though, Midway Still sounded far more like an imported American underground rock act than the low-budget Kent boys they actually were. "I Won't Try" is evidence of this, with its almost Lemonheads styled power-pop chorus, rough and ready guitar work, and drawled vocals. Their debut album "Dial Square" would be produced by Sonic Youth dial twiddler Don Fleming, cementing their transatlantic sound still further.
Looking and sounding as if they'd fallen off the back of a Greyhound bus fresh from Seattle did the group little harm in terms of media coverage initially, and almost certainly boosted their profile far higher than it otherwise would have gone at any other period - but they never quite rose above their underground status, and became a near-permanent fixture on the Camden club and pub scene in the early nineties. In fact, almost all vaguely "grungey"/college rock styled British groups failed to find much appreciation on their own shores, a peculiar cultural anomaly which I still struggle to make sense of. Given the fact that they were able to tour here with greater ease and regularity and were also available for media appointments at the drop of a hat, you'd have thought at least a few British grunge-styled acts would have broken through, but success proved elusive (unless you count the artificial one hit wonders Stiltskin, that is...)
Great Yarmouth's Catherine Wheel were often regarded somewhat sniffily by the indie kids who sulked around my particular corner of the college common room. If My Bloody Valentine were the unquestionable innovators of shoegazing, and Ride had the melodic aggression and Slowdive the woozy pastoral atmospherics, Catherine Wheel felt a bit plastic and commercialised for some. The fact that the lead singer Rob Dickinson was the cousin of Iron Maiden's Bruce Dickinson and they signed to a major label as quickly as they could caused suspicious eyebrows to be furrowed too.
Truth be told, though, I genuinely liked - and like - the fact that Catherine Wheel brought a much lighter, frothier sound to the scene at this point in time. Compared to My Bloody Valentine some of their singles are effectively the early nineties equivalents of Status Quo's "Pictures of Matchstick Men", but for what it's worth, I love that single too. I enjoy it when pop collides with more underground ideas.
"She's My Friend", their debut single, enters the fray cautiously without too much in the way of frilly melodies. It's heavy on distortion and effects pedals, and has a sledgehammer guitar riff running through its core, but the sweet and pie-eyed nature of the vocals lift things up and stop them from becoming too rockist. It's seductive and psychedelic, seeming to have one foot in the shoegazing scene and the other in the recent Madchester past. It's closer to Blur's "She's So High" than My Bloody Valentine's "To Here Knows When".
We'll be meeting Catherine Wheel again and will have another chance to discuss them, but what is notable about the group is how they managed to forge a career way past that of any of their contemporaries, issuing their final LP in 2000 and even managing a string of mid-placed Top 75 singles until that point. Cult success in America and a willingness to adapt their sound as times moved on both acted in their favour.
2. Moose - Jack (Hut)
"We almost laughed..." "Jack" introduces itself abruptly on your stereo with the vocals, the rest of the band jumping in as if lead singer Russell Yates has surprised them with his sudden need to burst into song. The rest of the track swirls and snarls itself into a state of giddiness while Russell's indifferent delivery makes him sound like the indie Bernard Black.
The term "shoegazing" was apparently coined based on what one live critic witnessed at an early Moose gig, where Russell sellotaped the lyrics to some of the group's songs on the floor and sang most of the set with his head bowed, motionless. It wasn't meant to be a badge of approval, and indeed the term was thrown around somewhat disparagingly to start with before it became considered a "movement". As an attendee of many of the gigs by groups we're going to encounter over the next few entries, I can verify the fact the fact that whatever the value of the recorded work, a lot of these bands were spectacularly tedious live, and had tendencies to regard acknowledging audiences as being an unnecessary extra task. If you didn't have a full-time job and saved up money to go and watch bands play live as often as you could, it stuck in the craw when you effectively witnessed a rehearsal on stage behind an invisible glass wall. Some groups were far worse than others - and we'll get on to that - but in general, the scene didn't really make you feel as if it was a great time to be alive and of legal age to be let into gig venues. At least at the height of C86, there was some comradeliness with the other groups on the scene. At this point, the bands were often shambolic and aloof with it, which brought a frostiness to the party nobody really wanted. (The Manic Street Preachers bemoaned the scene's lack of obvious stars. Personally, I'd have just settled for more David Gedges or Andrea Lewises who actually possessed the ability to communicate something to an audience).
I never did catch Moose live, however, and only have rather critical live reviews to go on. On vinyl, they often packed a punch and delivered some of the movements more touching ballads as well. If Tindersticks had changed direction completely and reported to their local guitar shops to purchase a variety of effects pedals, there's a chance they might have ended up sounding a lot like Moose - sombre, reflective, a bit fragile but also giddy sounding. "Jack" rattles along confidently but has small, almost unidentifiable drops of moody Country music in its bones too - and as Moose's career went forward, they would begin to emphasise that aspect of their sound more.
For now, though, they were the quintessential cult shoegazing band, issuing critically praised records very few people actually bought.
3. Levitation - Nadine (Ultimate)
Strange as it may sound now, The House of Love were expected to be one of Britain's most successful alternative rock bands at the tail end of the eighties. Nobody talked about how it might happen, and everyone assumed it just would. Their early singles "Destroy The Heart", "Christine" and "I Don't Know Why I Love You" were all bordering on genius, and with Guy Chadwick's gift for weaving haunting and moody melodies and Terry Bicker's talent for creating unexpected and enchanting fretboard work, they seemed certain to go a very long way.
Sadly, however, Bickers lived up to his surname and was the source of endless bickering in the group and apparently "erratic behaviour". His relationship with Chadwick in particular was notably tense. In the middle of one argument, he began chanting "Guy Chadwick is a breadhead!" repetitively while burning banknotes under the irate singer's nose. He was thrown out of the group not long after, for which Alan McGee berated a hurt and demoralised Guy in a phone call with the words "You're nothing without him! Do you understand me? Nothing!"
McGee may have been short on tact, but he wasn't wrong. While The House of Love recorded some good singles after Terry Bickers' departure, it was apparent that they were never going to scale any creative heights again. And Bickers, cut loose from the sensible framework of Chadwick's melodies, took the opportunity to form Levitation and go full-on batshit with an occasionally almost proggish noise. As is often the case with creative divorces, nobody really came out on top, least of all the record buying public who were given two "quite good" bands as opposed to one who might genuinely have occupied the space The Stone Roses instead squeezed into.
Levitation's output often walked a tightrope between sheer psychedelic nonsense (albeit often entertaining nonsense) and strokes of the familiar Bickers genius. Just when you thought the group were going to hold on to a promising riff and build a straightforward epic single, they had a tendency to veer off in bizarre directions, often guided by Bickers inventive guitarwork. That their output has become much loved by some isn't in dispute, but for me it often feels too indulgent to connect.
"Nadine" was the lead track off their debut "Coppelia" EP, and is one-and-a-half minutes of blissful, flowery contemplations almost worthy of Donovan with a subtle, almost sleazy easy listening brass backing and occasional outbursts of noise. Anyone thinking Bickers possibly had a shot of becoming some kind of indie king had their expectations destroyed almost as soon as this burst out over the airwaves of evening Radio One - it's likeable, but a truly baffling opening statement of intent. And so it would continue.
4. Miranda Sex Garden - Gush Forth My Tears (Mute) - vinyl and cassette only
Although it has to be said, Miranda Sex Garden were almost as baffling an inclusion to the indie pantheon as Levitation were. Originally consisting of a female trio of madrigal singers, their first LP "Madra" was entirely a cappella, and made the group sound like something John Peel might have signed to Dandelion Records circa 1973.
Instrumentation was introduced to their sound after that release, and while they played with a full paintbox of possible sounds - often incorporating industrial, electronic and ambient textures into their mix - they never quite fitted in anywhere. "Gush Forth My Tears" is one of their most commercial moments, and while the Internet is being no help at all, I'm fairly sure it was briefly used by British Airways on a television commercial which (provided I'm not having a total memory failure) boosted its visibility a lot further than relying solely on airplay might. It also has a twittering, insistent electronic production which at its best almost recalls some of Ann Dudley's work with Art of Noise. It's a genuinely beautiful piece of work which is unexpectedly touching in places, and could perhaps have become a minor hit had it received enough support at the time.
I caught Miranda Sex Garden supporting Spiritualized on tour around this point, and while my memory is weak for most live bands of this period (as we've established, many of them were dreary) I can still visualise that gig to this day. The sight of women clad in black singing madrigal songs to grinding guitar atmospherics is something you struggle to forget.
Perhaps inevitably, some of the members eventually moved on to form the Mediæval Bæbes who had considerably more success, selling hundreds of thousands of LPs with a traditional sound not always terribly far removed from Miranda Sex Garden's origins.
5. KLF - Last Train To Trancentral (Pure Trance Version) (KLF Communications)
Like most KLF singles, "Last Train To Trancentral" came in a number of styles, flavours and guises, some seemingly limited to a bare hundred or so white labels, others the subject of more substantial limited edition runs.
This, the original "Pure Trance" version of the track, was limited to 2,000 copies and was barely really noticed on its original release in March 1990. Unlike the original versions of "What Time Is Love?" or "3am Eternal", which were sparse, repetitious floor-fillers, this is much more melodic and ambient in tone, dropping much more intricate and fluid synthesiser sounds into the mix - at some points, in fact, it comes close to aping the most dinner-party friendly moments of Jean Michel Jarre without quite crossing the line into eighties frothiness (perhaps Guru Josh had been dripping advice into Drummond and Cauty's ears).
Despite its relative complexity, it does still sound very sparse up against the final Stadium House mix, which was arguably the KLF's peak achievement on 45, and also less atmospheric than the elements which were utilised on "Chill Out" a mere month before. In common with a lot of less familiar KLF remixes or versions of their best-known work, it's likeable and curious sounding, but ultimately just leaves you hungry for the real deal. "Last Train To Trancentral" in this form is a pleasant and enjoyable journey, but in other forms it scales mountains.
Still, in those pre-Internet days if you hadn't been fortunate enough to buy one of the 2,000 copies of the original version of this single, this volume of "Indie Top 20" was your only hope - and at the time, I was grateful for the chance to have this on vinyl in some shape or form.
