Adelaide’s Cape ‘Harbour’

Sometimes, not very often admittedly, something very good indeed lands right on your doorstep. In this case, quite literally. The flaking blue paint of the scrabby garage doors in the Adelaide’s Cape photo? They belong to my next door neighbour.

Until recently, Sam Taylor, the one with the hood, lived in my ‘hood. Together with Hannah Richardson, they are the Cape and they’ve recently upped sticks and relocated to Bath for educational purposes.

It’s not so much that my street is suddenly a hotbed of musical wonderfulness, more likely that Norwich is very quickly galloping into view when it comes to turning up bands deserving of attention beyond The Fine City’s borders.

If we did have to stick our neck out, heaven forbid, we’d say that Adelaide’s Cape are going to be enjoying the lion’s share of such attention in good time.

And nope, it’s not about what people look like, not ever never, but heck, have a look at these two will you? Tell me you don’t want to put Sam and Han in your pocket and keep them for yourself and I will foot the optician bill myself. One look and you hope, pray, they’re good. You really want them to be something to write home about.

Mum, Dad, there’s this band…

It sounds like you’re patting a small boy on the head when you describe music as charming, but Adelaide’s Cape are nothing less. It’s as simple as songwriting comes, and just about twice as wonderful. It all sounds so effortless as Sam’s lazy vocal drifts in and out, like the gentle breath of something grouchy sleeping, while Hannah’s voice is the butter to Sam’s toast, as delicate as a daisy, halfway between indie and folkie, it’s the sort of voice Moshi Moshi would join a queue for.

The nice thing is, beyond hanging their coat on the peg marked ‘post folk’, it’s difficult to draw comparisons. Not saying they don’t have a certain Nick Drake spring in their step (face it, who doesn’t?), but what else is in there? Influences, they say on their MS, include Chris Wood, Idlewild, Johnny Flynn, Bellowhead, Mumford & Sons…

Might just be me, and I’m by no means a muso, but Sam plays a Fender FR-50 Resonator (off of Dire Straight’s ‘Brothers In Arms’ album, but don’t hold that against it), which tends to suggest here’s a boy who understands a thing or two.

Using a metal ‘resonator’ instead of the traditional wooden soundboard made the guitar sound louder, which was pretty handy when you were sat alongside the brass in the increasingly popular dance bands of the 1920s. The resonator’s distinctive, bright metallic sound soon made it the weapon of choice for blues and bluegrass musicians long after some bright spark invented amplification.

It’s a sound synonymous with the Deep South, with the music that started everything. And here’s a duo from Norfolk wielding one. Bodes well. Bodes very well.

More hear…
- Treat yourself to a visit of their MS .
- Grab their debut single, ‘Harbour’/'Curled’, for free from rawrip.com.
- Read some more in the November issue of BBC Norfolk Introducing magazine, VoluME.

Cooler ‘Disco Sucks’

It kind of started with the Spearmint piece the other day. When MNFB was born, it was supposed to be about great music, new stuff, old stuff, stuff you’d forgotten about. As seems the way with me, it became something else entirely. So I’m trying to get back on track.

Recently, I’ve started filling a new 1TB hard drive. I’m working my way, from left to right, through the CDs from the shelves, but the Spearmint thing had me rummaging in the boxes under the stereo.

Blimey, the stuff I’ve forgotten about. Cooler, for example.

After EMF fell apart for the first time, singer James Atkin – a Birmingham boy – and keyboarder Derry – not a Birmingham boy – joined Bentley Rhythm Ace’s backroom staff. Astonishing as it seems now, EMF were massive. As such, despite his protests otherwise, you’d guess there’s only so long a frontman can be stood at the back, in someone else’s band.

Helpfully, along came Cooler – a three-piece James could call his own. Alongside him, Ollie Cherer, a bundle of energy who bounced between drum kit, keyboards and just plain bouncing (I once described as a cuddly Keith Flint, sorry about that) and, on bass and singing, the lovely Anna Haigh off of Bocca Juniors, Red Snapper, Flowered Up and, in her own words, “a few other obscure bands too”. And yes, she was the girl in the T-shirt in the ‘Weekender’ video. And no, her co-star Lee Whitlock wasn’t Zammo from Grange Hill. I had a whole other ramble about the importance of the ‘Weekender’ video and how it’s ‘Quadrophenia’ for Generation X… and then I discovered, sadly, Flowered Up’s singer Liam Maher died last week, aged 41. That’s just too young. Very sad. There’s a lovely tribute here from Heavenly’s Robin Turner.

Anyway, Cooler. Onstage they were all ants in the pants, with everyone swapping instruments and mics like football stickers. And James singing again. On record, it was carnage – samples piled up to the ceiling, squidges, squelches, beats to go, heavy pumping on the keys, walloping bass. Cooler trod a carpet that should have seen them enjoy much more success… or actually, some success. From what I can make out, it was a Maker Breaker and an NME Single of the Week. It’s still a good one for the grandchildren, but boy, they must have watched the likes of Lo Fidelity Allstars’ relative rise with mouths agog.

Their second single was gobsmackingly good. A dark, growling, snarling Gary Glitter sampling romp with the refrain “gonna funk it up/kick it down like a mother”. There might have been another single called ‘Oh Happy Day’, but information is skant. Even with the all-knowing internet. If there was why haven’t I got it? I’m also pretty sure Cooler didn’t get as far as releasing an album, again, if there was it’d be in the box under the stereo.

It’s a shame, but if you’re going to duck out early doors, do it with some style. What? Oh.

More hear…
- The ‘Supersod’ single is still kicking around for those with 1p+P&P to spare. Get it from Amazon Marketplace. Money well spent.

Spearmint ‘A Trip Into Space’

As I’ve said before, the nicest thing about mynewfavouriteband.com is the unexpected emails. Sure, there’s a ton of ‘Hello music blogger’ scattergun spam that every last music site in the whole world has got too, but now and again you get something nice. Very nice.

The other day I got an email about Spearmint reissuing their mighty fine ‘A Week Away’ album from last century. It’s out now, there’s a link down there, at the bottom, which you should use to buy it. Really you should. Your ears will thank you.

Spearmint were one of those bands that were universally liked in the Melody Maker office. Their 1997 single, ‘A Trip Into Space’ especially had us all a-quiver. It’s one of those songs that both your ears can’t help being grabbed by. It has one of the finest intros ever, and thankfully the reissue features the full-length five-minute-plus version rather than the three-minute edit on the original. Which is all good, mainly because it locks itself into a belting indie-Motown groove that remains just as irresistible 12 years on. Makes The Go Team sound dull. Absolutely one of my favourite singles of the Nineties, so thanks for the email, Mark, I’d forgotten about it.

What that email did was get thinking about other stuff I’d forgotten about. As a music journalist, especially as reviews editor, I used to get mountains of promo CDs. I lived in a one-bed flat in Bethnal Green and found a photo of my old frontroom the other day. It was full of records, CDs, tapes and there was a sofa somewhere too. Thing was, you couldn’t physically keep everything. Clearly, judging by that photo, I did give it a good go.

So once a month a kind man from Manchester would arrive in a big van and we’d all donate our unwanted CDs to charity. The same charity very generously bought my first car, a red N-reg Ford Escort. During my time on the music press I shudder to think how many CDs, erm, went to charity.

I did keep an awful lot. There’s several thousand CDs in what the kids like to call the music room. It’s only the backroom, but it is full of music. In particular, there’s a crate under the stereo full of promos. Last night I was looking in it for Spearmint, which I found. I also found a ton of other stuff I’d forgotten about, and it occurred to me that most of it will be completely lost to our ears.

The more I write about music these days, the more I feel this stuff needs an outlet. Leave it with me, I’m thinking, I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, I give you Spearmint, my new favourite band.

More hear…
- For Spearmint’s proper website go here.
- To buy buy buy the ‘A Week Away’ album reissue go here.
- For more about what Shirley’s up to go here.

ViperSuzas ‘Tongue And Groove’

‘As you can see from the band photo we don’t really buy into the whole image thing. Pixies didn’t, Sebadoh didn’t, and we sure as hell ain’t gonna lose no sleep over how pointy our shoes are.’

You got to love a band who set our their stall like that, really. Biff and Jim, they are. Here’s what I know. They hail from some arse end of nowhere, probably south east England, Sussex way I think. Probably not important. Biff plays drums, Jim plays guitar and sings. Jim’s got one of those splitters so he can plug his guitar through a bass amp too. No bass player required, see. But they make enough rock for three. Or four. Or five.

There’s a great biog (see link below) crafted by former Maker hack Push, where you can find out more. It’s rare to find this sort of info these days, which is a shame. Like we’ve said over and over, it never hurts to give people a peg to hang their coat on. Most bands just expect people to chuck their coats on the floor these days, which is a shame.

Yes, yes, digress, but what’s new eh? It’s great to know there are still bands left who do what they do best (the music bit) and gather people around them to do what they do best (ask a writer to write, you know). They’ve a fine looking website too that was probably built by a pal who’s good at those sort of things.

More than anything, it’s refreshing to find a band who not only understand the power of the internet, but understand they don’t have to do it all themselves. Can’t. Don’t have to.

There’s much to like about ViperSuzas. And that’s before you’ve even heard a note.

The music, then. Yes, lazy people say it’s like the White Stripes. Well, there is too of them. Thing is, White Stripes sounds like two people. ViperSuzas sound like a gang of roofers ponding away up top until the roof falls in, but in 4/4 time. They sound like an express train grand prix through your front room. Like a batallion on the charge in the Battle Of The Bulge. Like guns and bombs. Sorry, came over all Cranberries there.

They are carved from the same plank as bands who knew how to be bands. Husker Du, Tad, Magazine, The Ramones. check the list of influences and the names are all there, Neil Young, QOTSA… and then they toss in Cable – Derby band who deserved more. Split up in the late Nineties after being half-flogged to death in search of ‘commercial success’. Truely excellent, a terrible waste. The Cable memory jog reminded me of the likes of Groop Dog Drill, Submarine (who became Jetboy DC), Union Kid, A… all bands who knew what guitars were really for and stuff the rest of it.

You’ve got to be happy when you discover a band this good. Be happy.

More hear…
- There’s a single ‘Long Way Back’ and eponymous six-track mini album… getting hold of them is a whole other matter.
- A rummage has also turned up a limited edition promo EP featuring four tracks it’s a snip at £3.50. A wise investment even.
- Back in August they proclaimed they’d record an album in a day, 12 tracks, 24 hours, called ‘Blunt Chisel’ they’d chop it out on CD for a crisp fiver… Last Friday, October 9, they admitted 12 was a bit ambitious, but five were in the can and sounding almighty. Can’t wait.
- A real, proper website… a MySpace
- Read some well-written words about them here

Quite soon I will stop with the Norwich bands. Well, I won’t actually stop, but they are going to live in a new online home… not with monkeys. This has to be one of my favourite singles of all-time. I love everything about it. I got it for my birthday from Cuz, aged 14. It came in a brown paper bag on which he had meticulously copied the sleeve. So many record sleeves to copy, so little time. Little wonder we both ended up at art school, eh?

We used to spend a fair amount of time painting the flaps of those canvas army surplus rucksacks everyone had as school bags in the Eighties. I was quite proficient and vaguely recall taking on a commission or two. My bag of choice for everyday use featured the cover of Altered Images’ ‘See Those Eyes’, and I also had a Genesis bag too. Can’t quite remember which cover, or why.

The Higsons then. By the time we were wandering from the well-beaten track of the UEA LCR and heading for the bright lights of Norwich city centre, The Higsons were very much on the up. We were regulars at The Jacquard, The Gala and the Theatre Royal’s studio round the back of M&S as well as the Arts Centre. I vaguely recall the UEA Barn being good too.

I didn’t see The Higsons live all that much. I can remember seeing them at Pennies on Edward Street once, and I think, but I’m not totally sure, we were at The Jacquard when the ‘Live At The Jacquard’ tape-only release was recorded in February 1982. I still have the tape at least.

If The Higsons were any kind recommendation for soul music, you could have signed me up there and then. They seemed effortlessly cool, being a UEA band they weren’t Norfolk boys and as such they seemed all the more exotic. In our little world, they seemed enormously famous. And of course, Switch, or Charlie Higson, did go on to be exactly that. Enormously famous.

I think the thrill of The Higsons was seeing all that brass on stage. The bands we were used to were all guitars and drum kits, but here was something new. I’d seen trumpets and trombones before, but they made a horrible noise played by spotted orchestra girls at school. Alex James in his very readable book about himself mentions something or other about being at close quarters with a trumpet and how it’s just the loudest instrument in the world, ever. It is, but blimey, what a great noise in the right hands, and The Higsons were the right hands.

Later in life, I made frequent beelines for the Super Furry Animals live. Hard life, but it was my job, and the Furries were a stonkingly good live band. They often reminded me of The Higsons, especially when their brass section would wander onstage for tracks like ‘Demons’. The Higsons never went for fancy dress like SFA, not many did really, which is a shame.

Somewhere, some time, in between the two, I got involved with another fine Norwich band called Basti who also understood the power of a decent brass instrument. But that’s a whole other story. Another time eh?