— Rose McDowall
"It makes my eyeballs feel floaty."
— Jill Bryson
"It makes me feel like ice skating in the cold night air while listening to it on my Walkman."
— Rose McDowall
A Radio One DJ, a twelve-year-old with very strong opinions and a pair of Scots goth-bag ladies: it's been a while since an actual Smash Hits staffer had to sift through the singles, hasn't it? But no matter, they're not going the Number One route of only featuring mindless guests in the critics' chair, these are all people with something to say and not simply looking to advance their careers in such a modest fashion. It makes me think there's a pop music critic in all of us.
As one hit wonders go (a term, incidentally, that I despise; not only does the classification depend on the country — Madness being far from a one and doner in the UK despite being exactly that in the US and Canada — but it's snarky and mean-spirited and conveniently leaves out the fact that one solitary hit single is still far better than none) Strawberry Switchblade are fondly remembered. Their sole smash "Since Yesterday" has oak-aged which certainly helps but their image also left an imprint on people. No one looked like them. No one would ever have thought to look like them. Not conventionally beautiful but there's something about them. They make me feel like I'm back in junior high school and I have a crush on that weird girl which I'm determined not to share with anyone under any circumstances.
First up is Rose McDowall's pick of "You Supply the Roses" by fellow Scots Memphis. Formed by disillusioned members of Orange Juice James Kirk and Steven Daly, it is a bright and sunny bit of indie pop — with "twinges of country" as she points out — that the Blades are already familiar with. Either confusing it with an old country standard by the likes of George Jones (so baked it is in old school Nashville values, I can easily see a version of it popping up on Elvis Costello's Almost Blue) or already a firm favourite in Gorbals-area clubs, it isn't quite up to Jill Bryson's standards even though she too is pretty impressed. I like it but not as much as I'd like to like it. It makes me think of how I like turkey and I like cranberry sauce but I don't really care for them together.
Bryson opts for "Moments in Love" by Art of Noise. Impressionistic and warm, it's ruined by the lack of a tune to grab hold of. I would very much like to appreciate the charms of Anne Dudley, Trevor Horn and Paul Morely but it smacks of a work that is interesting rather than gripping. A fine enough listen but one which is forgettable as soon as its finished. (Did Bryson make her selection while it was still playing?) It makes me feel like I have something to say and I'm itching to say it but the words stubbornly refuse to come out.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed With Feeling This Fortnight
Cocteau Twins: Aikea-Guinea
Jill and Rose are feeling all sorts of things with this Cocteau Twins 12" EP. Here is an exchange of them trying to outdo one another:
J: It's all very atmospheric — in fact, it makes my skin ripple.
R: Well, it makes my organs wobble.
J: And it makes my eyeballs flip.
R: And it made my record player jump.
(The seeds of their eventual falling out, perhaps)
Some typically gorgeous industrial loveliness from yet more Scots. It makes me feel like a tulip growing out of a crack in the concrete outside of a smoke-spewing factory.
"It makes me feel like ice skating in the cold night air while listening to it on my Walkman."
— Rose McDowall
A Radio One DJ, a twelve-year-old with very strong opinions and a pair of Scots goth-bag ladies: it's been a while since an actual Smash Hits staffer had to sift through the singles, hasn't it? But no matter, they're not going the Number One route of only featuring mindless guests in the critics' chair, these are all people with something to say and not simply looking to advance their careers in such a modest fashion. It makes me think there's a pop music critic in all of us.
As one hit wonders go (a term, incidentally, that I despise; not only does the classification depend on the country — Madness being far from a one and doner in the UK despite being exactly that in the US and Canada — but it's snarky and mean-spirited and conveniently leaves out the fact that one solitary hit single is still far better than none) Strawberry Switchblade are fondly remembered. Their sole smash "Since Yesterday" has oak-aged which certainly helps but their image also left an imprint on people. No one looked like them. No one would ever have thought to look like them. Not conventionally beautiful but there's something about them. They make me feel like I'm back in junior high school and I have a crush on that weird girl which I'm determined not to share with anyone under any circumstances.
First up is Rose McDowall's pick of "You Supply the Roses" by fellow Scots Memphis. Formed by disillusioned members of Orange Juice James Kirk and Steven Daly, it is a bright and sunny bit of indie pop — with "twinges of country" as she points out — that the Blades are already familiar with. Either confusing it with an old country standard by the likes of George Jones (so baked it is in old school Nashville values, I can easily see a version of it popping up on Elvis Costello's Almost Blue) or already a firm favourite in Gorbals-area clubs, it isn't quite up to Jill Bryson's standards even though she too is pretty impressed. I like it but not as much as I'd like to like it. It makes me think of how I like turkey and I like cranberry sauce but I don't really care for them together.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed With Feeling This Fortnight
Cocteau Twins: Aikea-Guinea
Jill and Rose are feeling all sorts of things with this Cocteau Twins 12" EP. Here is an exchange of them trying to outdo one another:
J: It's all very atmospheric — in fact, it makes my skin ripple.
R: Well, it makes my organs wobble.
J: And it makes my eyeballs flip.
R: And it made my record player jump.
(The seeds of their eventual falling out, perhaps)
Some typically gorgeous industrial loveliness from yet more Scots. It makes me feel like a tulip growing out of a crack in the concrete outside of a smoke-spewing factory.
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