A 1991 Manchester Musical Special : H is for Happy Mondays and J is for James

Happy Mondays – Kinky Afro (Factory Records, 1991)
James – How Was It For You (Fontana Records, 1991)

In January 1991 the British Music Industry decided to curate three evenings of live music at Wembley Arena. The evenings were called the Great British Music Weekend and they were designed to showcase the cream of British musical talent. The first two days were dedicated to indie guitars and at the time the line ups were incredible. Thousands of people tried to get tickets, thousands of people failed to get tickets. Me being one of them. I remember Dubstar Chris phoning me at home and telling me that he was going to get tickets and then him phoning the next day and telling me that it had sold out (and it had). Those who couldn’t get tickets, had to make do with the shows being streamed live on Radio 1 FM (as it was called back then).

Day One was the indie dance evening. It was headlined by the emerging champions of the scene, the Happy Mondays, also on the bill were James, The Farm, Northside, Beats International, 808 State and a band called Candyland who were, rumour had it, playing their first ever gig after being personally recommended by Paul Weller. Candyland I think were the only band on the bill who didn’t come from a town or city north of Watford.

If I had got tickets it would have been my first ever concert and I think at the time I would have loved it what with it featuring bands that I was growing to love, bands like James, 808 State and the Happy Mondays. However, I remember the radio broadcast being disappointing – the concerts turned out to be a series of mini gigs with the bands playing for around 15 minutes each and the headliners being pushed to a full 25 minutes.

James (who were second on the bill) I remember played three songs (Stutter, Johnny Yen and Sit Down) and despite the short set the NME called it a ‘triumph’ and stating (correctly) that ‘fairly soon James will be massive’. Indeed in seven months they would be headlining the Reading Festival.

The Mondays were allowed, as headliners to stretch out a bit – and got to play five songs- the first three were ‘Donovan’, ‘Step On’ and ‘Kinky Afro’ and they ended with ‘WFL’ I forget what the fourth one was.

The two records were nestled together in Badgers Box, the James single is an immaculate grey sleeved 12” with ‘James’ printed on the sleeve in a dark blue colour – it has a daisy over the top of the ‘J’ and inside it is a James stencil – so you can spray paint their logo all over the place. I don’t know if this is a standard release or not but the stencil in Badgers record has barely been touched by the look of it. The Mondays one is the standard ‘Kinky Afro’ 12”.

There were a couple of other Mondays records in the box the best of them being this

‘Hallelujah’ (Taken from a 12” version of ‘Madchester Rave On’ EP) –

which is shame because it doesn’t contain the ‘McColl Mix, which I love to bits.
There was a couple of other James records as well – The Green 12” of ‘Come Home’ and a really really battered version of this

What For

I is For Inspiral Carpets

Inspiral Carpets – Find Out Why (Mute Records Taken from ‘Cool As Fuck EP’, 1990)

1991 was also the year in which I went to my first proper music festival. It was the Slough Festival and tickets were if I recall it correctly a bargain at £6. We had decided to go to this one as a warm up for the big one around the corner in Reading. The line-up was very shoegaze heavy with Ride headlining ably supported by bands such as Curve, Slowdive and Chapterhouse. It kind of blew my mind a little bit. It was about six weeks after my 16th birthday and suddenly I was surrounded by thousands of people who liked the same music as I did.

It was around four pm that Dubstar Chris had gone off to buy some chips, and as he looked older than I did, some beer. I decided to stay in the arena and watch what was left of local heroes Thousand Yard Stare’s set. It was at about ten past four that I fell in love with a girl who I never spoke to and whose name I never knew. I say love, it probably, definitely, wasn’t that on reflection, but there I sat for the next twenty five minutes or so just kind of gazing at her.

She was wearing a Cool as Fuck T Shirt, cut off denim shorts and Converse Trainers and I thought she was incredible. She was about twenty metres away from me and I sat there thinking up ways to strike up a conversation with her. All of them were useless because I never did. I willed her friend (Revolver Tshirt, Mani Hat) to get up and wander off to get chips like Chris had done but nope she stayed perfectly still next to her. It wouldn’t have mattered because I still wouldn’t have gone and spoke to her.

At one point I sort of shuffled our stuff a little bit closer to Cool as Fuck Girl (sounds wrong typing that) and her mate and saw her smiling at me. Well smiling in my direction, she might of course been squinting as the sun was in her eyes – that I decided was enough and I stood up, took a deep breath, and took one step and then I heard Chris call my name as he had returned with the food and somehow, four pints of liberally watered down beer.

So I sat back down again. What I should have done is taken two of the pints over to Cool as Fuck Girl (still wrong) and her Revolver Tshirt wearing friend and introduced myself, but when I spun around two minutes later ready to suggest this idea to Chris, they had gone. Never to be seen again.

When I was a kid the ‘Cool as Fuck’ EP was like some sort of indie Holy Grail. It was famous for being as rare as rocking horse shit, yet everyone knew someone who had a copy. I’m pretty sure the Inspiral Carpets sold more Cool As Fuck T Shirts than they did copies of the EP ( a bit like James, who famously sold way more TShirts than they did records for the first eight or nine years of their careers) Of course there were cassette copies of it around, badly recorded ones that themselves were copies of copies.

Badgers copy is in mint condition and tucked right behind it was another fairly rare early Inspirals 12”

Inspiral Carpets – Butterfly – Taken from ‘Trainsurfing EP’ (1989, Cow Records)



30 years since this was composed and recorded.   It’s a shameful indictment of successive governments, in both London and Edinburgh, that so little has changed across many communities with the result that the issues raised in this pop hymn to isolation, depression and utter misery are just as abundant as they were after a decade of Thatcherism.

Husband don’t know what he’s done
Kids don’t know what’s wrong with Mum
She can’t say, they can’t see
Putting it down to another bad day
Daddy don’t know what he’s done
Kids don’t know what’s wrong with Mum

So this is how it feels to be lonely
This is how it feels to be small
This is how it feels
When your word means nothing at all

There’s a funeral in the town
Some guy from the top estate
Seems they found him under a train
And yet he had it all on a plate

So this is how it feels to be lonely
This is how it feels to be small
This is how it feels
When your word means nothing at all

Husband don’t know what he’s done
Kids don’t know what’s wrong with Mum
She can’t say, they can’t see
Putting it down to another bad day

So this is how it feels to be lonely
This is how it feels to be small
This is how it feels
When your word means nothing at all
So this is how it feels to be lonely
This is how it feels to be small
This is how it feels
When your word means nothing at all

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – This Is How It Feels

There is also a radio mix of the song, concerning two lines of the second verse.

‘There’s a funeral in the town’ was changed to ‘Black car drives through the town’, while ‘Seems they found him under a train’ is replaced by the less gruecome but arguably more chilling and moving ‘Left a note for a local girl’

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – This Is How It Feels (radio mix)

And while I’m here…..from the 12″ vinyl sitting in the cupboard:-

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – This Is How It Feels (extended)




July is shaping up to be a ridiculously hectic month for me and I’ve got grave concerns that I’ll be able to devote enough time to keep the blog up to the standards that you’ve come to expect. But, like the hapless Baldrick, I have a cunning plan.

Over on the right hand side of TVV you will find a list of blogs that are a lot like my relatives (including my parents) and my dearest friends in that I’m constantly aware of them being near to me but I never find or make enough time to give them the attention they deserve.

My excuse is that there are only so many hours in a week that I can devote to blog-like activity and by the time I put my own daily posts together then there’s nowt left for visiting other people and leaving behind appreciative comments.  I’m going to try and make it up to those good people by paying tribute in a way I hope nobody minds.  It basically involves thieving….

I’ll be going into some of my favourite blogs and nicking an entire posting from them in an effort to show you the quality of what else can be found out there (just in case you weren’t previously aware).  The stuff you normally find in here with the exception of the weekend stuff (ie Moz and James series, the Saturday singles from Scotland) will return in August when I’ve got the time to do my own things once again.

I’m starting all this with The Robster whose blog is called Is This The Life?

This blog only started in February 2014 and it has proved to an astonishing piece of work in which the author sets out his life in words and music in numerous periodical installments.  He did this in a series of postings over a period of three months and unlike many others, there’s no re-writing of history to  exorcise those bands/singers/songs that many years on are now embarrassing to admit a liking to and unlike many others, there’s no shirking away from memories which are very personal and very painful.  Such as this:-

I suppose if you want to blame anyone for kickstarting my interest in all things music it would probably be my mum. Personally, I could never thank her enough. It was her records that I first picked up and listened to and it was she who bought me many of my earliest singles as I started to develop my own taste. And while she may have hollered at me to “turn it down” on more than a few occasions, she never once even suggested that I might be spending a little too much time listening to records in my bedroom and that I should be out doing something more constructive.

My earliest memories of my mum’s musical influence on me I’ve already documented but perhaps my fondest memories, as well as one or two of the saddest, come much later on.

The weeks that followed my first gig, the Wedding Present at Exeter Uni in 1988, involved me playing Wedding Present records often and loudly. Every so often, mum would pass by the bedroom door and remark: “They played that one, didn’t they.” Apparently, she heard the last 20 minutes of the show from the car park while waiting for us to come out. Not only that – she took in every tune and could identify them weeks afterwards! Not bad for a Frankie Vaughan fan, I thought.

Mum was never shy to offer her opinion when she felt the need:

“I think that record’s smashing.”
“I like his voice.”
“He’s a lovely looking chap.”

Those latter two were directed towards Tim Booth, enigmatic frontman of James, while the first statement was used to refer to the original version of their single Sit Down. (She was also known to remark “What a bleddy racket” about all sorts of things, but that’s another story!)

Sit Down was first released in 1989 when the band was in a sort of limbo state. They had been dropped by Sire records but not yet picked up by Fontana. The band released two singles on Rough Trade in this intervening period, the other being Come Home. Neither were hits at the time, but both were later re-released by Fontana and catapulted James to stardom.

I bought that original 12″ of Sit Down. It contained the extended 8 minute version with the lengthy instrumental ‘dub’ segment and it became one of my most played records. Because of this, it was inevitable that mum would become exposed to it at some point. When she was, she was immediately hooked.

Mum liked a good song, a proper song; a good strong melody, meaningful lyrics and no faffing about. Sit Down ticked all those boxes, plus in Tim Booth, it had a singer who could properly communicate the song. He’s one of those rare performers who sounds so perfectly genuine, even in his more obscure, arty moments. This wasn’t lost on mum. She was drawn to Tim Booth by his vocal expressions, the way he sang as much as what he sang.

Sit Down became our song and I always think of mum whenever I hear it, whatever version is played, and I smile because I’m reminded of how happy it made her feel.

“Those who feel the breath of sadness
Sit down next to me.” – ‘Sit Down’ by James

Another song that reminds me of mum, for entirely different reasons, is This Is How It Feels by Inspiral Carpets. Now there’s another band who knew how to write a decent tune, a prime example of a superb singles band (though their albums got progressively better; ‘Revenge Of The Goldfish’ is certainly worthy of a critical reappraisal). This Is How It Feels was released in 1990 as the lead single from the band’s debut album ‘Life’. The single and album versions had slightly different lyrics, but one particular line, present in both, still resonates with me and makes me think of mum.

In the 12-18 months leading up to that point, mum had started to become ill. There were no visible symptoms, but it started when she keeled over in the street for no apparent reason one afternoon. At the time she laughed it off as just clumsiness. Mum laughed all the time, and she was as stoical as the day is long. No fuss and nonsense for her, just laugh at your misfortunes and get on with it – that was her way.

But then, a week or two later, it happened again. Then again. That’s when she began thinking something was wrong. The next few months consisted of increasing visits to the family doctor, followed by misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis. Cancer was ruled out, multiple sclerosis was in, then out, until eventually we were told it was Motor Neurone Disease. The problem was, none of us knew anything about MND, and even our GP admitted he had never seen a case of it himself. Often the unknowns are far worse than the knowns.

Looking back, it’s easy to reflect on how terrified mum must have been. She would, in all likelihood, have been told her condition was terminal, but the lack of information available in those pre-internet days would have only served to stoke the fear and worry she must have felt. I know pretty much for certain her biggest concern would have been her boys and what would happen to us when she wasn’t here.

Meanwhile I just carried on as normal. It was like some form of denial I suppose, but at the time I refused to let what was happening affect my life. I’ve torn myself up over this ever since, but accept the guilt I feel as deserved punishment for the way I acted in the face of this catastrophic event.

Amidst all of this however, the one abiding memory I have is something my mum said to me as she passed my bedroom one evening. I was, as usual, playing records. On this occasion it was This Is How it Feels. It’s not a happy song, rather it evokes the feelings of helplessness, despair and turmoil in the face of domestic trials such as unemployment and depression. Mum heard a line which particularly resonated with her:

“Kids don’t know what’s wrong with mum
She can’t say, they can’t see
Putting it down to another bad day.”

“That’s like us,” she said. “Kids don’t know what’s wrong with mum, putting it down to another bad day.”

That’s all she said, but it’s all she needed to say. She understood. She couldn’t fully explain what was happening, and she knew I had to cope with it in my own way. Her citing of this lyric showed her empathy, compassion and warmth along with her own regret that she didn’t feel she could really tell us how she felt. I’ve thought about that an awful lot in the intervening years. I still carry the guilt but gain some comfort from that one moment. Of course, it also showed how she knew music was the one way she could truly communicate with me.

Things didn’t improve. Mum’s condition got progressively worse. She became wheelchair-bound, unable to dress herself, feed herself or go to the toilet by herself. She even lost the ability to speak. Her dignity and pride gradually ebbed away along with her capability to control her own life. Even worse, her mind was intact. She was fully aware of everything and everyone, but was unable to do or say anything. And all the while I just carried on regardless.

She passed away in a hospital bed one evening. I wasn’t there. I think I was watching TV. Arthur, our closest family friend who had recently become engaged to mum, was at her side. But I wasn’t. That remains the single biggest regret of my life. I can never change it. I hate that so much.

All I can do now is remember with fondness the way mum connected with me through music. She would probably hate that I can’t forgive myself for how I behaved back then, but that’s the sort of person she was. “Let’s just put it down to another bad day,” she would be telling me now. “Come and sit down next to me.”

I got round to reading that post about six weeks  after The Robster put it out there back in March.  I wanted to leave a comment but just couldn’t find the right words.  It is an astonishingly beautiful, heartfelt and moving piece of writing that reads as if it was composed by one of those much-heralded and award-winning columnists who populate the weekend supplements of our UK newspapers.

A couple of weeks ago, The Robster got right up to date with his life story, but thankfully, he’s keeping the blog going for now and most recently was sharing his personal memories of going to Glastonbury in the 90s.  It’s well worth a visit. In the meantime, here’s the tracks from the 12″ version of the songs that helped inspire that piece, together with an angry and very good cover version


mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – This Is How It Feels (extended)
mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – Tune For A Family
mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – This Is How It Feels (radio mix)
mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – Seeds of Doubt
mp3 : Carter USM – This Is How It Feels

More Friends Electric tomorrow.



Joe was one of the earliest singles released by Inspiral Carpets back in 1989.  It’s a cracking bit of music but it didn’t have much of an impact as the band at the time were on a small indie label and like so many other hard-working touring outfits of the era were making more money from the sales of t-shirts than they were from music sales.

Signed by Mute Records in 1990, they were quickly lumped in with the baggy/Madchester movement which did them absolutely no harm at all.  Over the next five years they were prolific in output with four LPs and something like fifteen singles/EPs and although they never gained the popularity of the likes of the Mondays, Roses or indeed The Charlatans, there’s no arguing that they gave us some very fine tunes many of them featuring very catchy and distinctive retro-keyboards.

In 1995, the band released an album that brought together all of their singles and in support they re-released Joe some six years.  It came in a number of different formats and with live and acoustic versions also available, was of enough interest to fans that they would part with their money and create enough sales to have Joe hit #37.

My own copy was courtesy of a bargain bin a few months later – the sticker tells me I paid 99p for the CD single, which isn’t bad value given that it also included a version of another of their chart hits (the song that as far as I know got Mark E Smith his one and only appearance on Top of The Pops) together with their cover of a cover-song.

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – Joe

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets  – I Want You

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – I’ll Keep It In Mind

mp3 : Inspiral Carpets – Tainted Love

The third of these tracks is another that was originally thrown away as an EP track in 1992 (and which unless you have been told in advance I’m sure you would argue is something that has been recorded by Julian Cope/The Teardrop Explodes) while Tainted Love was originally on Ruby Trax, a compilation released by the NME in 1992 to commemorate 40 years of publication, consisting of 40 cover versions of # 1 songs that had gone to #1 (hence my earlier cover of a cover comment).