Say It With Garage Flowers

Back in the Great Britpop Wars of the mid to late ‘90s, I used to defend my corner when it came to some of the less successful or popular acts in the genre. I could often be found in an indie boozer, sporting a skinny t-shirt (sigh), providing covering fire for the likes of Rialto, Lodger, Gene, Hurricane#1, Silver Sun, Posh and Speedy. Yes – Speedy. Remember them? No? Shame – you deserve to be beaten to death with my promo copy of Northern Uproar’s first album.

Actually, all is forgiven, as Sheffield’s Speedy were the great lost Britpop band– their debut album, News From Nowhere, which they recorded for the Arista-owned Boiler House label, was never actually released. But, fear not, for a copy has found its way to my office. I won’t tell you what I had to do to get hold of it, but let’s just say that I won’t be showing my face in any public toilets in Camden for a good while. Ah, what the hell – it was worth it.

News From Nowhere is classic Britpop, pitched somewhere between Pulp and Blur – wry, observational lyrics about love, life on the dole, and summer holiday sex, with chirpy choruses, big, swelling tunes and low-rent melodrama. Underneath the blaring brass sections and knees-up Parklife pub piano, there are dark themes lurking, including obsessional love and domestic violence (I Like You So Much) and teenage pregnancy (Heard, Seen, Done, Been – “She smells of sex and chewing gum.”)

Time For You is my favourite. A big ballad with horns and strings, it’s a tawdry tale of a juvenile criminal who’d go to prison for his female partner in crime; it’s as if Bonnie and Clyde had been brought up on a Sheffield council estate.

Sometimes Speedy remind me of Squeeze and there’s also a nod to acts like ABC and OMD – grandiose New Romantic gestures with a distinctly theatrical feel.

Their only real brush with the big time was when their 1996 single Boy Wonder got them on, err, Football Focus and the Shine 7 compilation album. Ahem.

What happened next? Alas, they were dropped and promptly split up – one of the casualties of the Great Britpop Wars. At least I made sure they got a mention in dispatches.

It’s been a lazy Sunday here in ‘lovely’ Harrow, so to keep me entertained I spent the morning compiling a Sunday Spotify playlist. I can feel a Spotify obsession coming on – so much cheaper than buying blank CDs and you can email your playlists to your mates – genius. I kind of miss doing the covers and writing the sleevenotes, but I’m sure I’ll get over it.

Anyway, I wanted some tunes that would suit my slightly knackered, lazy, hazy Sunday mood and I think I achieved what I sent out to do – from the classic Sunday Morning by The Velvet Underground (obvious, I know – but it’s simply the best, er, Sunday morning song ever – it does what it says on the tin) to the epic Lay Back In The Sun – Spiritualized’s druggy, shimmering psychedelic/gospel epic.

No-one wrote about the sun better than Brian Wilson, so it’s over to the mighty Pet Sounds for the life-affirming You Still Believe In Me.

Like Pet Sounds? Listen to the album Freedom Wind by The Explorers Club – it’s a homage to Wilson’s masterpiece, as Don’t Forget The Sun proves. Gorgeous.

I’ve been on a bit of a, yikes, folk trip today, so threw in some Nick Drake,  John Martyn and Beth Orton, and then dipped into Van Morrison’s criminally-neglected Veedon Fleece for Bulbs. Someone did me a copy of this little-known Van the Man album a while back and I’ve been slowly getting into it – if you dig Astral Weeks, you’ll like it, too.

You’ve got to have some world-weary crooners on a Sunday morning, haven’t you? Hence the inclusion of Kris Kristofferson’s Sunday Morning Comin’ Down (from which I half-inched the title for the playlist – I love the line  “I found my cleanest dirty shirt,” as a bachelor, I can relate to this very well) Scott Walker’s lovely country ballad Duchess (from the classic Scott 4) and Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra’s spectral Some Velvet Morning – those cinematic strings, Hazlewood’s booming voice, the sexual suggestions – “I’m gonna open up your gate,”- blimey, it’s all a bit saucy for a Sunday. 

I Threw It All Away is one of my favourite Dylan songs from one of my favourite Dylan albums – Nashville Skyline. I know the album’s flawed and isn’t considered one of his best, but I love its laidback country-soul feel – perfect for a Sunday – and the tune I’ve chosen just makes me think of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. Hmm, maybe Sunday morning isn’t the best time to be reminded off all yer f*** ups – oh, well.

You’ve got to have some Beatles on a Sunday, but there’s no bloody Beatles on Spotify, so I had to make do with the 1960s Karaoke Band (?), doing Good Day Sunshine. For the record, Revolver is the best Beatles album – and probably my favourite album of all time – so inventive, varied and not clogged-up with the music hall material that blighted Sergeant Pepper.

Weller nods to Revolver with Here’s The Good News (love the brass arrangement and the trombone solo), so that had to go on there. Still on a ’60s trip, I dug out some Donovan, (Sunshine Superman) although Season of the Witch is his best tune.

I’ve been having a few discussions over the new Bruce Springsteen album Working On A Dream – it’s had mixed reactions. I really like it – it’s not perfect, agreed, but it does have a nice West Coast vibe going on, with a Byrds and Beachboys feel – Surprise Surprise is simply dumb jangly pop of the highest order.

Suede’s Lazy from Coming Up reminds me of being in bed with a lover on a Sunday morning, hungover to death, but grateful that you haven’t got to venture outside and deal with the general public and the mundanity of everyday life. Morrissey’s Lazy Sunbathers – from his finest solo album, , Vauxhall and I, seemed like a natural successor. I am lazy and I hate sunbathing.

I saw Blur’s Hyde Park comeback show last week – marvellous. Badhead is one of the best songs on Parklife – a neglected gem of a tune that addresses hangovers and has a whoozy, melancholy feel – it gets me every time.

Squeeze’s Chris Difford is one of my lyrical heroes – he wrote the words for Some Fantastic Place, which was about his musical partner Glenn Tilbrook’s ex-girfriend, who died. It’s a spiritual, uplifting song – reminds me of George Harrison’s My Sweet Lord –  and I just adore the guitar solo from Glenn, which leads the song to its anthemic climax, heading skywards with organ and gospel vocals. Wonderful stuff.

Which leads us to Spiritualized’s Lay Back In The Sun – yet more gospel. And to think I don’t even go to church on a Sunday.

If you’ve got Spotify, you can listen to my playlist here: http://tinyurl.com/kk8afl