PLAYLIST: Spooky Isles Halloween Radio Show 2021

 

I have the honour of hosting this Hallows Eve special, where the Spooky Isles team choose some of their favourite Halloween tracks for your listening pleasure, and chat about their selections. There's also some prime cuts from Brit-horror film and TV soundtracks. Why not join us? 

Click the play button and listen here, or find out more about the Spooky Isles authors and view the full tracklist over at SpookyIsles.com.

SINGLE: Scars - All About You (1981)

 UK: PRE 014 (1981)

Modern musical history is littered with great singles which have underperformed commercially, somehow failing to become the megahits they should have been, and finding a place bubbling outside the top 20, 30, even 40. Greatness is often not rewarded, at least not in the short term.

Then, there are those fantastic records which inexplicably fail to chart altogether, despite sounding in retrospect like solid gold smashes. This is one such record.

Hailing from Edinburgh, Scars formed originally in 1977 and had already released three singles before All About You appeared on Charisma's PRE imprint in 1981. A scorching guitar intro, repeated throughout the track, plus a hypnotic pace and ghostly harmonies interrupting the verses... all of this should have been a surefire hit.

Alas, despite an appearance on BBC2's The Old Grey Whistle Test to promote the single, it was not to be, and the record buying public unfathomably failed to buy it.

A longer version appeared on their sole long player Author! Author! the same year before line-up changes signaled the beginning of the end. A support slot in Australia with The Church, as well as a double-page spread in Smash Hits magazine couldn't save the day, and Scars finally split in 1982. Well, let's face it - if you released a single as good as All About You, only to see it sink without trace, wouldn't you wonder if it was all worth the bother?

Thankfully, a reissue of their only album prompted a brief Scars reunion, and the track's inclusion on Cherry Red's seminal Scared To Get Happy collection has given it some long overdue attention. Somewhere in a parallel universe, this was a number one.

COMMERCIAL BREAK: Maxell Tapes - Break The Sound Barrier (1981)

Maxell just might be responsible for the most memorable TV ads for the blank audio cassette ever made. There was, of course the classic late 80's ad featuring a mishearing of reggae favourite Israelites. However, this particular one is arguably the best known, and was used internationally. Produced as a new decade dawned, it would provide one of the most iconic images of the 1980's

In this UK version, none other than Peter Murphy of Bauhaus slips one of Maxell's tapes into his deck, and enjoys a rendition of Mussorgsky's A Night On The Bald Mountain. Such is the superior sound reproduction, that... oh, play the ad and see for yourself...

This wasn't the first version of the ad, however. The original US version featured a different model and Wagner's Ride Of The Valkyries. Here, for non UK readers or curious Brits, is that first variant...

A silhouette of the guy in the chair, being blown away in stereo still occasionally adorns the packaging on Maxell products to this day. Also, unlike many of their rivals, the company never entirely gave up on the cassette format. As the humble blank tape enjoys a revival in popularity, this might prove a canny move... More at Maxell Europe's site.

SINGLE: The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight) (1987)

UK: Beggar's Banquet BEG201 (Nov 1987 - B-side of I Wanna Live)
       Chrysalis CHR1725 (1989 - Brain Drain LP)

It doesn't matter how carefully you plan your Christmas shopping, there is always, always something you forget and find yourself desperately trying to find at the last minute.

In this year's case, I had made the faux-pas of forgetting to get custard. Not a big deal on the surface, but what if we decided to have a dessert over the festive period which required a topping of the creamy yellow stuff? And there was none in the fridge? Yes, I know, not exactly earth shattering, but: The wife wants custard, so...

Anyway, that is how I found myself in a local branch of Asda on Christmas Eve, negotiating my way around hordes of stressed parents with overexcited children, in search of a carton of Bird's Ready-To-Serve. That is when something quite wonderful happened...

Asda's in-store radio station started playing the Ramones. Not just that, it was festive Ramones.

How times have changed. It doesn't seem so long ago that the chances of hearing a Ramones record playing in your local supermarket were about as likely as finding Ted Nugent at a vegetarian's picnic. Now, their music has become so much a part of our cultural fabric that even this relatively obscure later-period track can get an airing in the grocery aisles. Only a few months ago, the Sainsbury's chain were selling Ramones t-shirts, alongside groceries and light bulbs. Part of me thought "great", whilst another part of me found it profoundly depressing.

A little while ago, there was a fashion piece in one of the Sunday papers in which some interchangeable minor female celeb (whose name understandably escapes me) was enthusing about how much she was loving her "retro rock t-shirt". A photo showed her modelling a garish pink top, with the Ramones logo printed in black. On it were printed the names of the members. It spelt Joey's name wrong.

J-O-H-E-Y

I can't have been the only person who looked at her, and thought: You have obviously never, I repeat never listened to The Ramones in your life. I hope a passing flock of Canadian Geese drop their load on you and your "retro rock t-shirt".

The transition of The Ramones from punk heroes to fashion label is a dispiriting one.

Still, back to Christmas Eve in Asda, where none of this mattered. This track came on and restored my will to live as I made my way through the checkout and headed home for a few days of festive crashing-out.

The custard's still sitting in the fridge, by the way. It's December the 29th.

SINGLE: Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (1984)

UK - Korova/WEA KOW32 (Jan 1984)

This came on the stereo today, and I immediately thought: I really want to watch Donnie Darko again...

It is hard in my mind to think of a more perfect matching of music to the opening scene of a movie, although it was also accidental. Director Richard Kelly's original choice had been INXS' Never Tear Us Apart (another record I love), but when the licensing costs proved too high, he moved The Killing Moon from a later scene to the opening. A very fortunate accident, in my book. Kelly's original intention can be seen in his own alternative (and, in my view, generally inferior if fascinating) cut of the film, but there's just something about this record that sums up the mood of Donnie Darko perfectly.

The Killing Moon would be the centrepiece of possibly the group's finest album, Ocean Rain. Recorded in Bath, the vocals and additional drums were overdubbed in Liverpool. The rest of the LP (as we used to call albums!) would be recorded in Paris, with vocal overdubs again recorded in Liverpool, but The Killing Moon fits in seamlessly with the rest of the record.

The version on the promo clip here has the closing section somewhat truncated, possibly to make the length more MTV friendly, but the original 7-inch single boldly retained the full 5:46 version.

It would peak at number 9 in the UK.

ALBUM: Mega City Four - "Tranzophobia" (1989)

UK - Decoy/Vinyl Solution DYL3

The summer of 1989 was a good one for me. It was the last one of the 80's for one thing, but I'd just left school too. That summer just seemed to go on forever.

Four of us would just hang out, play records, watch films, or loiter in what was then the only subway in our village. There was Mad, Em, Mike and Me, usually with Em's little personal stereo which rather usefully had a built-in speaker. Not much volume, but in that subway the echoing acoustics gave it another dimension. More often than not, the tape in that little machine would be Tranzophobia. Spacemen 3 would get the odd look-in, or whatever we'd taped off that week's John Peel shows, but invariably the MC4 would return.

Tranzophobia came out at a perfect moment: June 1989. We all had a copy. How the others laughed at me for buying it on CD. Yes, I know. They were quite right. It was a real novelty then, but my dalliance with the dreaded format was short lived and my allegiance switched back to vinyl pretty sharpish after a Jimi Hendrix CD left me sonically nonplussed.

We would play the opening parts of Start and January over and over, jumping off Em's parents' sofa and laughing our heads off as Wiz shouted "Go!", and we collapsed in a heap on the floor.

We would occasionally try to figure out where that sample at the end of On Another Planet came from. I still have no idea, and it still pops into my head now and again to torment me.

Mega City Four, four Hampshire lads from Farnborough. Wiz (guitar/vocals), Danny (rhythm guitar/vocals), Gerry (bass) and Chris (drums). They had produced an absolute perfect rush of a poppy, punky, melodic album. Fourteen songs, all short and snappy, the sort that grab you by the scruff of the neck and make you jump around, before letting go and launching into another. It was like they had 14 great singles lined up before deciding not to bother with the singles bit and jumping straight to a greatest hits record.

Except there were no singles on the album. In the meantime, they had other songs out as singles: Miles Apart, Clear Blue Sky, Awkward Kid, Less Than Senseless. There was an EP too.They were amazingly prolific over an 18 month period.

Our band, Illogical Tortoises (don't try Googling us - it'll get you nowhere) would try to play along with Severe Attack Of The Truth, Twenty One Again, What You've Got... Em and Mad on guitars, Mike on bass, and me thumping an array of pans and Tupperware containers in lieu of an actual drum kit. (I also wrote a song around this time called Ramsay Street Massacre. Yes, quite.)

Eventually... Life moved on. We variously finished A-Levels, dropped out, found jobs, moved out of the village, went to University, followed different paths, lost touch...

Mega City Four moved on too, for a bigger deal with a bigger label who promised bigger things.

Me? I went off to college in, of all places, Farnborough...

Wiz passed away far too soon, just before Christmas 2006. After that I couldn't listen to anything by Mega City Four for a long time. It was just too painful. Just lately, though I've been wanting to hear Tranzophobia again, wanting to remember how much fun and joy that record bought all of us.

That village is now a town. The wheat field you could lose yourself in is a giant Sainsbury's and Marks & Spencer. The farm that used to be opposite my house is also gone, transformed into a housing estate. The other farm we used to get our eggs from is buried under the M27. I barely recognise the place anymore. But, if I listen to Tranzophobia, it's still the same, the four of us are in that subway, sharing a surreptitious bottle of cider, listening to that tinny little cassette player and all is right with the world.

WHERE TO FIND IT: Cherry Red CD - CDM RED 197 (2002)

And here's a taster...

SINGLE: Wah! - The Story Of The Blues (part 1) (1982)

UK - Eternal/WEA JF1 (December 1982)

Images taken from my own collection. Click for a larger view.

There are great records which become lifelong favourites, and you are normally able to remember where you were the first time you heard them. In this particular case, I was sitting in the unglamourous setting of a lorry parked at Stansted Airport (pre-revamp) in the dying days of 1982.

My grandad was a lorry driver, and in the school holidays or on weekends I would accompany him on various trips. Stansted was a regular run to collect a cargo that had just arrived by air (usually tangerines or suchlike). On one occasion we actually got snowed in there, but that's another story...

Anyway, on this particular occasion we had arrived early in the morning, and Mike Read's Breakfast Show was on Radio 1. He casually mentioned that the next record was a new one by a new band from Liverpool called Wah! and proceeded to play Story Of The Blues (part 1) (there were two parts as it turns out, but more on that later).

Wah!, it transpired, had also released records as Wah! Heat, and would release more as The Mighty Wah! (amongst other permutations), but essentially consisted of one Pete Wylie. He was embarking on a career of frustrations, occasional brilliant hits, falling out with record companies, and occasional mentions in the "does anybody know where he is?" sections of music magazines. In late 1982, however he seemed destined to be the biggest thing on the planet when this absolute anthemic stormer came out. I may have been only nearly 10 years old at the time, but I was already obsessed with music and knew brilliance when I heard it.

From the off, a pounding rhythm and strings grab you - it sounded unbelievable coming out of the radio at that time. Then Wylie launches into a lyric of sadness and regret... but of what? A lost love? Being let down by a friend? Generally kicked in the teeth by life? It's vague, but in a way that leaves it open wide for each and every listener to put their own spin on it - not as easy as it might seem. The wall of sound in the choruses contrasts nicely with the more understated verses, before a repeat chorus feels like the whole caboodle has been double tracked again for maximum impact, and then it's into a repeat of the intro, repeated with female backing singers' "oohs" before fading into the ether...

Except it doesn't quite. Flip the record over, and The Story Of The Blues (part 2 - Talkin' Blues) fades the whole thing back in, as Wylie recites a call to arms to the lost, disaffected, dejected, to stand up to their situation and say "I'm not gonna take this any more!!!", or words to that effect. Like one of those drunken moments of alarming clarity that hit us all at some point, this is Wylie's, caught on tape for posterity with full on backing.

Wylie has a superb knack for creating really big records, the sort that reach into you and grip you by the heart. Sometimes they have gotten noticed (Come Back, Sinful), whilst at other times they have gradually found a loyal following, such as the majestic Heart As Big As Liverpool, since adopted by Liverpool FC fans, apparently to Wylie's great pride. Maybe one day he'll finally deliver that billion selling album masterpiece he deserves to. Maybe he's not bothered, happy with the following he already has.

Story Of The Blues remains his greatest commercial success, however. It peaked at number 3 in early 1983, and has appeared occasionally on those ragbag 80's compilations (often erroneously credited to The Mighty Wah!), but taken on its own merits it still shines brightly. Both bitter and life affirming at the same time, like a beam of sunshine through a crack in a dark cave.

Here's part one... Thanks to YouTube user SparkyMusic1

FIND IT ON:

The Handy Wah! Whole (Castle/Sanctuary CD 2000)

ALBUM: Scared To Get Happy - A Story Of Indie Pop 1980-1989 (Cherry Red 5CD Box Set)

The Eighties. There, I’ve only just started writing this and I already feel like I’ve said a bad word. If you’re thinking “no, please, not an 80’s compilation”, then you’re preaching to the converted. You need not tell me how bad that rightly maligned decade was, as I spent my formative years in it too. While friends were in the local chain store picking up a Phil Collins LP, I’d be elsewhere in Southampton, St. Mary's Street to be exact, rummaging through the racks at Underground and Weasel’s Records, delirious with joy at finding a second-hand copy of Love’s “Da Capo”, The Ramones’ “Rocket To Russia” or a 7-inch of Traffic's "Paper Sun".

It came as something of a relief to discover I wasn’t alone. Late at night, despite having to be up for school the next day I would be huddled up in bed with my Sanyo radio-cassette player pressed to my ear, a C90 lined up ready to record the weird and wonderful noises coming from John Peel’s late night Radio 1 slot. Amongst those sounds, there seemed to be a particular contingent made by people who sounded like they may have been digging out the same records as me, throwing everything they heard into a huge melting pot, but also with a real sensibility of great pop hooks and melodies. If something positive can be said of that decade of big hair, Stock-Aitken-Waterman, pummelling power ballads and that greed-is-good, look after number one mentality, it did give a lot of other people something to react against.

Arranged in roughly chronological order, Cherry Red’s 5-CD collection unearths 134 examples of the British independent pop single of the period. The sheer range of the music within is quite staggering. If you’re going to dissect influences, the spirit of punk still hung heavy, but there was also a heavy whiff of acts like Joy Division or Siouxsie & The Banshees (who I always considered a misunderstood psych band anyway). Throw in a healthy dose of The Velvet Underground, some Fairport Convention, Love and The Byrds… oh hang on, then there’s a splash of Scott Walker, even Bacharach & David in places. And then there’s the perfect pop knack of Buzzcocks, the aforementioned Ramones, those Rubble and Chocolate Soup For Diabetics compilations, and then… I could go on for ages (and have indeed been known to after too much cherry wine), but my point is this: the retrospectively applied tag of indie-pop is very much an umbrella term, attempting to band together a massive spectrum of records which are often miles apart from each other, but were all released on indie labels, and are all, in a fashion, pop records. The vast influences tell you a lot about the music on offer here, whilst also telling only part of the story.

You want jangling guitars? There’s plenty - The Dentists, Raw Herbs, Railway Children and Weather Prophets (to name a very few) are happy to oblige, whilst Gol Gappas add a dash of Syd Barrett to the mix. Want some added fuzz? Then The Darling Buds, Shop Assistants and Groove Farm are on hand. A dose of psych, perhaps? Early Creation label releases from Biff Bang Pow! and Revolving Paint Dream certainly sound more 1967 than 1984...

...or if you really want your brain fried then The Bachelor Pad’s “The Albums Of Jack” does it nicely in just shy of two and a half minutes.

Meanwhile, the mere name of Hangman’s Beautiful Daughters tells you where they were coming from, and their offering doesn’t disappoint – like Fairport with Vashti Bunyan sitting in, but feeling ever so slightly goth as well (in a good way).

Fantastic Something’s “If She Doesn’t Smile (It’ll Rain)” was a track I didn’t remember hearing before, although I do seem to recall Smash Hits making it their single-of-the-fortnight at the time. The wait to hear it was worth it, and it now sounds like the massive hit it should have been, somewhere between Simon & Garfunkel and America.

Before Lloyd Cole’s “Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken” makes a rare appearance in its earlier indie form, we get a bona fide hit in the form of Aztec Camera’s “Oblivious”, its blend of Forever Changes-like latin flourishes and Hammond swirls still shining thirty years later. If “Oblivious” took the sound of the 1983 indie charts to daytime radio, it still took a switch of label from Rough Trade to WEA to achieve it.

The Hit Parade’s “Forever” is like a bare demo for a proposed summit between Brian Wilson and Phil Spector, only with the tape sped up before vocals were added. It has a delightfully ramshackle summer charm, like following track “Every Conversation” from The June Brides, whose trumpet part really shouldn’t work but… well, it just does. The Seers' "Sun Is In The Sky" brought back a lot of warm memories for me, its "Last Train To Clarkesville" meets "Paper Sun" intro still giving me goosebumps (cue misty eyed nostalgia at live clip...)

Mighty Mighty’s “Is There Anyone Out There For Me” puts the sentiments of Joe Jackson’s “Is She Really Going Out With Him?” in a blender with jangly guitars, and throws in a mention of long defunct fashion chain “Chelsea Girl” for good measure. I defy you not to smile at this one.

The Flatmates and The Popguns were as perfect as pop gets, and their offerings here ("Shimmer" and "Landslide" respectively) do them proud.

Early offerings from The Stone Roses and Inspiral Carpets signal where all of this was heading as the set approaches the 1990's, but it wisely stops short of the point where Primal Scream embraced dance grooves and the whole landscape changed, as that's another story in itself.

The select highlights I have mentioned are just the tip of the iceberg (I've not even mentioned Pop Will Eat Itself, Jesus & Mary Chain, House Of Love, The Wonder Stuff, et al), but it is also worth mentioning that not everything here dazzles so much, and listening to the whole thing in one sitting takes some doing. (Jamie Wednesday's "Vote For Love" is still enough to make you hack off your own ears. Sorry Jimbob.)

Still, if you were to ask anyone listening to the set what they would leave out and what they would replace it with you would get very different answers from all of them. Some of the selections I would have liked to see included missed out simply through licensing issues or because the bands concerned said no. In other cases it was to avoid duplication with the earlier comps CD86 and Rough Trade Shops Indiepop 1. Whilst that’s good news for people who own these earlier sets (myself included), it’s not so good for newcomers as both are now sadly out of print and have been selling for silly prices. Maybe their contents would form a good basis for a future set? (hint, hint)

Anyway, I digress. What “Scared To Get Happy” does manage quite brilliantly is to capture a certain musical mindset and attitude in a certain time and place, specifically Britain in a difficult and divisive decade. The set also conveys a feeling of a very disparate range of individuals who shared one thing in common: they formed bands and made records because, at that moment in time, it was something that they quite simply had to do. And, just as the 60’s and 70’s have come to be just as defined in retrospect by records which didn’t sell in big numbers at the time as by those which sold by the proverbial shed full, perhaps it’s about time that the 1980’s, that most superficial of decades on the surface, was accorded the same level of archaeological study.

Alternatively, you could treat this as an antidote to those “100 80’s Oldies” sets that clog up supermarket shelves with the same old recycled hits, and imagine an alternative universe where The Flatmates, not Rick Astley were number 1 for five weeks and The Bachelor Pad were on Top Of The Pops as that week's highest new entry. Just imagine…

Anyway, here’s hoping this set marks only the beginning of a reassessment. Besides, my old Peel show tapes are getting seriously worn out. I’m off to compile my favourite tracks onto a couple of Maxell UR 90’s and dig out my Walkman, and if this side of the 1980’s has never caught your attention, you may be in for a very pleasant surprise. Warts and all, this set is thoroughly recommended.

One final note: The method of encasing the CD's in the (admittedly nice looking) packaging is a disaster waiting to happen. Getting the discs out without damaging the discs or the contraption holding them is like taking part in round 3 of The Krypton Factor. I've put mine in separate cases, and would recommend you do the same.

You can get Scared To Get Happy directly from Cherry Red Records or most other good online retailers, or if you're lucky enough to still have one, your local record shop will be happy to place an order!