March 16, 2009 Earworm

During the months between "Just Like Honey" and "Some Candy Talking", my life had undergone a substantial change, going from criminally under-employed to juggling two jobs. With the lack of free time, one could assume that there was little opportunity for trouble and frivolity but when one job is done in a nightclub and the other is done in what seemed to many to be an overstaffed front for drug sales, it's not hard to wander. And with an ever growing cast of characters, there was no shortage of instigators.

Kenny and I could blow the rent money with just one visit to Howie's Music Machine which is exactly what we did on the magical week that the new Jesus and Mary Chain and the new Blow Monkeys singles arrived. Excitedly dragging Linda to her car, we rode out to Owings Mills, bitching and moaning until our respective medications kicked in, and spent a few hours and hundreds digging through the stacks. With no disrespect meant, I can say that I do not recall anything purchased that day beyond our intended targets.

After refreshing our medication for the ride home, we decided to call Jake, then manager of the Depot, and bribe him with a free McDonald's lunch to come to the club early and let us in; our goal being the dj booth and maximum volume. Upon arrival, pleasantries were exchanged, cigarettes were lit and, because it was five o'clock somewhere, cocktails were mixed as I uncovered the sound system. As I carefully placed the object of so much anticipation and speculation on the turntable, Kenny handed me my drink and said, "Have a seat, Missy", and I, focused on only one thing, did as told, not bothering with my usual response of "Don't call me Missy".

Even if I heard "Some Candy Talking" being played from two doors down, to this day my ears would still hurt from the flashback to the volume at which I first heard it that day. My stomach still flips a bit when I hear those opening notes and I can still see Jake frantically slapping Kenny's unfamiliar fingers away from the soundboard, trying to pull the noise down to a level safe for the ears of neighborhood dogs as Linda clings to the edge of the bar, trying to stay standing as she wipes tears of laughter from her face. And as the song fades out, I can still hear an exchange that would become all too familiar:
Jake: You three should not be allowed out
Linda: Nuh uh
Kenny: Fuck you, Jake
Larry: < shrug >

As this Depot reunion grows closer, the absence of my bookends becomes more and more apparent. It does not diminish my excitement but it does make realize that, no matter how full the place gets, it won't be full enough for me.

September 10, 2008 Earworm

With twenty days left until the release of "The Power Of Negative Thinking: B-Sides and Rarities", the long awaited Jesus and Mary Chain box, I've been humming the menacing "Just Out Of Reach" all day.

No surprise there...

June 03, 2008 Eaworm

While Clapton is God and Weller is my personal Saviour, The Jesus and Mary Chain declared "Bo Diddley Is Jesus" back in 1987 on the UK 7" double pack of "April Skies" (but not on the twelve inch or the cd because it's all so freakin' collectible, ain't it...). Although this trifle still sounds good without amphetamine, it still makes me want amphetamine which makes it either timely or timeless yet my coffee intake leaves me unable to decide.

The wait for the resurrection begins now and something tells me that this one will be much groovier.

Rest in foot slapping peace, Ellas Otha Bates a.k.a Ellas McDaniel a.k.a Bo Diddley a.k.a Jesus.

February 27, 2008 Earworm

In 1996, Chris Holmes (not the one from WASP) released an album under the moniker of Yum Yum. A string and buzz-laden affair, it was promised to be the second coming of Brian Wilson with a side order of Bacharach. The actual result was more like the softer side of The Jesus and Mary Chain in a Dream Academy sauce. One lovely track, "Apiary", hit college radio long enough to push an estimated ten thousand copies off the racks and then quickly disappeared.

"Apiary" took "Just Like Honey" all the way back to the hive and some of us couldn't help but appreciate the song and the guy's cajones. Was it a little in-joke, an ironic commentary on pop music, or homage.

Six months later, an article appeared in Harper's that attempted to answer the question. Written by a friend of Holmes', it attempted to spin the failure of the Yum Yum album into a tale of irony by declaring Holmes' record as a joke played on everybody but him - that his claims of appreciation for the genres he appropriated for his album weren't genuine. The whole sordid story seemed like a case of sour grapes but who could be sure and who really cared beyond the folks at Atlantic Records who had poured much energy and money into promoting his record. No one, as it turned out. Even this "scandalous revelation" failed to push more units out the door or into the used cd stores where they've apparently lingered for twelve years since I found two copies this past weekend, a discovery that made me pull out my seldom played copy.

A quick google finds Mr. Holmes on MySpace, touting his next album and, in his pictures, looking just like the sort of asshole who would try a "double irony" move to boost his royalty return. His new music, however, sounds an awful lot like the "fake" music he made for the Yum Yum album. Perhaps he'll write a song called "Vineyard" for his next single. Until then, we can enjoy the lovely love-buzz of "Apiary", remixed for maximum promotional airplay.

January 28, 2007 Earworm

In 1989, after releasing a quartet of singles and an album that made indie kids swoon, The House of Love left Creation Records for major label Fontana and an advance just shy of half a million pounds. Everyone was sure that they would be the band that would prove that Alan McGee was right about everything, with the UK music press suggesting that they would be the stadium band to rival U2.

Less than a year later, the chart performance of their first two Fontana singles, "Never" and "I Don't Know Why I Love You", suggested that guitar pop could cut into dance musics bleeping and thumping hold on the singles charts, but not the top forty. Going back to the beginning, the band re-recorded their Creation debut, "Shine On", and as it cracked the top twenty, hopes were high for the follow up, "The Beatles and The Stones" but it couldn't move higher than #36.

Two years later, it was apparent to everyone that it wasn't going to happen. With their third studio album jumping into the top ten of the album chart and then disappearing completely just two weeks later, it looked as though Alan McGee was wrong or, perhaps, too late. The indie kids who had fallen in love with the band in a beehive pop of "Christine" had moved on to Madchester and those who coulddn't dance were staring across the pond toward the flannel revolution. Fontana pulled the gorgeously depresssed "Crush Me" as the fourth single from the "Babe Rainbow" album, and its low chart position during its brief run confirmed that the foundation was crumbling. "Crush Me", somewhat fittingly, would be their last charting single but at least they went out on a high note; still singing the slightly hopeful baah-bopp-bopp-baah's that reminded everyone of the early days.

The House of Love would release one more album, "Audience With The Mind", that pretty much confirmed that band leader Guy Chadwick had lost his and prompted one reviewer to write, "I don't know why I loved you. I don't know why I cared". What was left of the band that had been started after Chadwick attended a Jesus and Mary Chain show, that was thought of as the band that would take up the indie-pop fight for mainstream success that the Mary Chain had started, called it quits, and another Alan McGee dream was dashed just as the seeds of Brit-pop were being sown.

The House of Love studio albums are all out of print at the moment but The Fontana Years collects some of the highlights and offers plenty of rarities.