THE FLAMING LIPS

(NB - This is another rather rushed one i feel. Again, i might come back to it at some point and tidy it up a little. Plus there's a few opinions which might get a few more fervent fans a bit pissed off - in advance, i apologize if i seem a bit dismissive of some works, maybe i'll grow into them, or in the case of the 80's stuff, make an informed judgement once i've heard it properly. The general gist i stand by though)

In A Priest Driven Ambulance - ***1/2

Hit To Death In The Future Head - ****

Transmissions From The Satellite Heart - ****

Clouds Taste Metallic - ****1/2

Zaireeka - ****1/2

The Soft Bulletin - *****

Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots - ****1/2

Ego Tripping EP - ***1/2

(Fearless Freaks Movie - *****)

(VOID DVD - ****)

At War With The Mystics - **1/2

Now we cross the Atlantic and land in the bible belt of the American Midwest. Oklahoma's Flaming Lips started out way back in 1983, dismissed by many who saw them as noisy no-hopers, trading in a brand of Who-meets-Led-Zep psychedelic punk rich in volume but lacking in much subtlety. The two remaining members from that time, vocalist and songwriter Wayne Coyne and bassist and tech wizard Michael ivins, pretty much admit to that. It seems that they weren't really out to make any great musical statements, just have a good time and piss off a few punters. I haven't actually bothered to purchase any of the 1980's albums - although 'Oh My Gawd!' is meant have its moments, most people outside of the purist fanbase seem to use them as negative points of comparison (i.e. "Jaysus, can you believe the guys who made 'The Soft Bulletin' made THIS?!"). Maybe i'll pick up the wonderfully titled 'Finally The Punk Rockers Are Taking Acid' at some point for the sake of completism, who knows, but the few songs i've heard haven't really set my world on fire.

So i join the party with 1990's 'In A Priest Driven Ambulence', now available as part of the 'Day They Shot A Hole In The Jesus Egg' compliation (ridiculous titles are par for the course with the Lips). It seems to represent the crossing-over point from cynical slacker-noise to their mid-period explosive psych-pop. So there's elements of both in here. One thing you notice is that Coyne, who even today seems to struggle with pitch, has relatively little concern for whether or not he's in tune most of the time. Notably, the second guitarist here is future Mercury Rev poser Jonathan Donahue, perhaps a factor in the shift towards a more accessible sound. Things get surprisingly poppy at times, as on the crystalline 'Rainin' Babies', but aggressive arrangements are still the main order of the day, as on the churning 'Mountainside' and thrilling 'God Walks Among Us Now'. They've definitely branched out though, as can be heard on 'Take Meta Mars', which exhibits a clear 'Tago Mago'-era Can influence, and the sweet, atmospheric acoustic songs 'Five Stop Mother Superior Rain' and 'There You Are'. I tend to prefer the band's more disciplined experiments, but on the rare occassion i put this album on, i find a lot to enjoy.

There's still traces of noise terrorism on follow-up 'Hit To Death In The Future Head', mainly on the frankly silly bonus track consisting of 30 minutes of industrial screeching. On the whole, Wayne's songs get more melodic again, whether they be murky pysch-punk ('Talkin' 'Bout The Smiling Deathporn Immortality Blues') or ambitiously-produced bliss-outs ('The Sun', 'Hold Your Head'). A few songs never quite manage to lift their heads above the waves of distortion, but there is one important advance in the shape of 'You Have To Be Joking (Autopsy Of The Devil's Brain)'. This is the first truly brilliant Lips song, touching in a way that can be easily traced through all the great songs they would write in the coming years. The simple acoustic-guitars-plus-bongos arrangement works wonders, with a controversial yet beautifully sampled orchestral excerpt from Michael Kamen's 'Brazil' sending things stratospheric.

Things nearly fell apart when Donahue and drummer Nathan Roberts departed whilst that Kamen sample was being cleared for use. When Coyne and Ivins finally found their two replacements though, they discovered two musicians who would send their music in fascinatingly original directions. Ronald Jones was a shy, experimental guitarist with more pedals than can be reasonably expected and a great sonic attraction during live shows. Drummer Steven Drozd joined from local band Janus 18, and in the first instance added a whole new dimension and rock-solid groove to the Flaming Lips sound. Drozd would also work his way into playing pretty much anything else on record, being an absurdly gifted multi-instrumentalist and composer. On 1993's 'Transmissions From The Satellite Heart', both of the new guys excel themselves, immaculately-distorted drums and an overwhelming-yet-delicate wall of vaguely Kevin Shields-esque guitar bringing Coyne's songs into a new world of possibilities. Things take a bit of time to settle, and as a consequence this is a bit inconsistent, but the high points make the album more than worthwhile. Surprise hit 'She Don't Use Jelly' is ridiculous yet irresistable, guitars soar magically on 'Pilot Can At The Queer Of God' and 'When Yer Twenty Two', 'Be My Head' and 'Turn It On' are bursting with simple pop charm and 'Chewin' The Apple Of Your Eye' proves to be another ace acoustic number. The best is, as they say, saved until last with 'Slow Nerve Action', a swirling, alarmingly original psychedelic groove from the mind of Drozd built from blisteringly funky drums, a simple yet devastating distorted guitar motif and a mind-altering lyric from Coyne.

As good as the highlights were on 'Transmissions', 1995's 'Clouds Taste Metallic' manages a more consistent quality and the best pop moments move from 'charming' to 'heart-bursting bubblegum heaven'. The band have consistently denied a Brian Wilson influence, but such comparisons are understandable when you're going to get this melodically joyous. Annoyingly, there's still the odd pointless wall of noise ('Kim's Watermelon Gun', 'Guy Who Got A Headache And Accidentally Saved The World'), but these so-so moments don't matter once you get to the likes of 'This Here Giraffe', 'When You Smile', 'Bad Days' and 'Christmas At The Zoo', all showing that clarity of vision which was previously missing and therefore holding the guys back from greatness. The more aggressive moments bring oodles of melody to the table too, as on the crawling groove of 'Lightning Strikes The Postman' and the mind-boggling 'Psychiatric Explorations Of The Fetus With Needles'. This line-up has also managed to perfect its approach to the slower tracks, as on the building 'Abandoned Hospital Ship' and the bittersweet 'Evil Will Prevail'. For anyone looking beyond the recent stuff for the first time, start with this minor classic.

As is always the way with these things, the story gets a little messed up during the mid-90's, with Jones leaving due to personality differences despite some astonishing live sets towards the end of his tenure. Now a three piece, the Lips were also dealing with some serious problems with remaining band members, specifically a growing heroin habit in the case of Drozd and a near-fatal car accident for Ivins. Such chaos didn't stop them putting everything into their art, though, as can be heard on 1997's 'Zaireeka'. Now this is a tricky one. I have to confess that i've never actually heard this 4-disc 'sonic experience' as it was intended (i.e. all discs playing simultaneously from different sources). Some critics got very pissy about this idea of Wayne's (the petty Pitchfork Media website giving the album a rare 0.0 out of 10.0), but i personally admire its audacity and willingness to think outside the normal pop-rock boundaries. At least i would if i heard the bloody thing! For now, i'll had to make do with various stereo mixdowns i've discovered on the web. Some tracks do end up sounding rather cluttered in this format, but there are official stereo versions of a couple of tracks released as subsequent B-sides. What's clear from all of this is that the Lips (especially Steven Drozd) took a massive leap into difficult territory and succeeded triumphantly. I wasn't especially struck by a couple of the eight compositions ('Future Crashendos' with its pointlessly unpleasant high and low frequencies, the slightly uneventful 'A Machine In India'). Everything else, though, seems to challenge every rule in the book, Drozd's exhilirating, insanely funky drumming powering the likes of 'Okay I'll Admit That I Really Don't Understand', 'The Big Ol' Bug Is The New Baby Now' and 'March Of The Rotten Vegetables' towards a very new kind of space-rock. 'The Train Runs Over The Camel But Is Derailed By The Gnat' sends your heart fluttering with its underwater atmosphere, spiritual organ and heartbreaking vocal harmonies (an army of Drozds no less). One of the officially issued stereo tracks, 'Thirty Five Thousand Feet Of Despair' is a desperately bleak yet fascinating tale of a pilot who dramatically commits suicide mid-flight. The other, 'Riding To Work In The Year 2025 (Your Invisible Now', can only be described as... actually, no, i won't even shame myself by trying. Suffice to say, it's one of the Lips' greatest compositions, an impossibly haunting sci-fi orchestral psych-prog epic, and one of my favourite pieces of music of all time. And STILL i haven't heard it properly yet!!!!! Some fans may understandably feel that i'm not really in a proper position to review this album, which is why i've stopped short of giving it a full five stars. I'm sure i will eventually pop my 'Zaireeka' cherry, but even in the compromised circumstances under which i've heard the album, i can honestly declare its indelible mark on my psyche.

All this wondrous music seems to have been feeding off a huge wave of emotional uncertainty. Publicly-acknowledged explanations included the death of Coyne's father and a near fatal spiderbite sustained by Drozd when clearing out his garage. We now know that the 'spiderbite', along with a whole lot of other dark feelings, were in fact caused by Steven's by-now-raging heroin addiction. Of course, it wasn't mentioned in interviews at the time, but Wayne and Michael have since stated that living in the knowledge that Drozd could die at any minute and that the Flaming Lips could disappear overnight led them to push ever onwards in remarkable ways, culminating in 1999's 'The Soft Bulletin'. You may see that earlier in this blog i have picked this as my favourite album of all time. It's probably a pretty controversial choice (not least given some of the classics left languishing behind it), but for now at least, i stand wholeheartedly by it. Beyond being, on some levels, a heroin album and a death album, it's just an immensely human album. Coyne's lyrics lose any last traces of his old cynical self, as well as moving on from the more outwardly psychedelic imagery of recent albums. Here he deals almost exclusively with love, loss, depression, the human spirit... basically all that big stuff that so many bands pretend to be tapping into when they're really just passing off empty gestures as "really deep and meaningful and... erm... stuff like that...". the sense of humour still comes through, but these guys had done a whole lot of growing up in a few short years. So far, so good. But it's probably not Wayne's lyrical contributions, for all their virtues, which make this such an important album for a lot of people. Wayne and Michael obviously have a hand in the musical side of things, the former still playing a significant role in the early stages of the development of many songs. Somehow though, it's Steven, supposedly on his way out, who pulls it together and, under the guidance of producer and Mercury Rev bassist Dave Fridmann, creates some of the most enthralling musical landscapes in pop history. His towering Bonham-esque drums are still a key element, especially on the beautifully unhinged march-of-the-damned 'The Gash'. On top of this rhythmic bedrock, there are luxurious swathes of strings, harps, horns and pianos, all cascading between your ears to heart-melting effect. Importantly, as heard most clearly on the magnificent singles 'Race For The Prize' and 'Waitin' For A Superman', the inimitable Coyne-Drozd Inc. take on pop melody never gets lost under the wall of sound. The entire album is a staggering success, but special mention has to go to the big-hearted, autobiographical 'Spiderbite Song', the multi-sectioned futuristic masterpiece 'The Spark That Bled', the wonderful use of dynamics on the yearning 'A Spoonful Weighs A Ton' and the desperately melancholy majesty of the closing 'Feeling Youself Disintegrate/Sleeping On The Roof'. The single remixes added at the end are a distraction, but remember to program the pop heroics of 'Buggin'' into the running order. There's really nothing more to say other than anyone who hasn't got this album needs it, and anyone who doesn't get it... well, fair play to ya for your honesty, but are you sure you were listenin' right?! Of course, an album this good couldn't stay underground for long, and the Lips, having tasted mainstream success briefly during the mid 90's, were given the opportunity to bask in a more substantial, and possibly more rewarding, share of the rock limelight. The live shows which accompanied the album release were just as groundbreaking, by all accounts an intense mix of emotions and experiences. Although i was a bit too young to catch any of these performances, i've seen several videos showing a three-piece Lips, accompanied by backing tapes, supported viusally by a full-size gong and massive video screen, alternating between footage of Steven drumming at home, disconcerting close-ups of a fake blood-soaked Wayne, playing with various props, via a mic-mounted camera and an endless array of assembled images all adding to the synapse-shattering nature of it all. Apparently creating a totally unique concert experience on a relatively low budget, the Lips were blowing minds all over again. In short, i wish i'd been there.

In the midst of all this touring and adulation, the band was still dealing with its secret yet potentially disastrous difficulties. In 2001, the band began filming their own sci-fi movie 'Christmas On Mars' (only very recently released), but Steven's heroin problem had, after years of barely interfering with his band obligations, left him almost unable to work or function and close to death. Miraculously, an album was assembled during this time, entitled 'Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots'. Eventually released in 2002, the record wasn't quite on the same level as 'The Soft Bulletin' (hell, what is?), but still proved to be a significant feat under such desperate circumstances. Interviews around the time revealed Steven's troubles, but also brought the better news that he'd managed to kick drugs towards the end of the sessions for the album. This overlap may help to explain the odd mix of emotions contained within the songs - like its predecessor, there's an almost tangible layer of existential melancholy covering this album, but there's also a more playful element, perhaps an indication of real hope for a happy ending. For instance, alongside the mournful, futuristic ballads 'One More Robot' and 'All We Have Is Now', you get the irresistably poppy groove of the title track, but even in these moments of apparent frivolity there's a darker subtext (the seemingly joyous singalong 'Do You Realize???' being a classic example of the power of mixed emotions). Again, there aren't really any weak tracks, making it harder to pinpoint why this doesn't quite match the glory of its predecessor. The melodies are airtight throughout, the imagination behind the arrangements impeccable, the advances into a more electronic feel a welcome change. Maybe the relative lack of booming, heartstopping drums in preference for skittering drum machines lends a unwanted sterility at times. I'm really just guessing though - this is still a great album, totally worth your money, just not as earth-shatteringly potent as its deified predecessor.The band's profile stepped up even further with this album, as did the grandiosity of the stage shows. The absence of a live drummer (which had been criticised by a minority on the 'Soft Bulletin' tours) was resolved by the induction of roadie and local musican Kliph Scurlock, allowing Steven even freer reign as multi-instrumentalist. Lucky fans were invited to dance with the band onstage, but only if they dressed up as one of a variety of animals and cartoon characters (the band, with the exception of Wayne, followed suit). Confetti, huge multi-coloured balloons and all manner of good-natured lunacy were present in abundance, the Flaming Lips live experience fast becoming one of the most talked-about in the rock world. Oh, and Wayne took to opening shows by crawling over the audience in a giant 'space bubble'. As you do. Again, there's quite a few videos of performances at this time available on YouTube, a Radiohead warm-up set on the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury 2003 being particularly spectacular.

Coinciding with all this goodwill were a couple of EPs. I don't own the 'Fight Test' EP, but the one for 'Ego Tripping At The Gates Of Hell' is surprisingly strong. There are four unreleased originals, all of which seem to be outtakes from the album judging by their very similar feel (i could be wrong though). Despite the lack of any major new sonic advances, they're very good songs, occassionally displaying a reflective Miles Davis jazz feel in the chord changes (especially instrumental 'I'm A Fly In A Sunbeam'). If forced to criticise, the drum machines are starting to wear a bit thin by this point out of over-familiarity more than anything else, whilst the lyrics (especially on the otherwise lovely Christams song) are showing a worrying propensity towards banality, a theme which will reappear i'm afraid. Oh, and there are three remixes, none of which do a great deal for me to be blunt, although they're not exactly offensive, just a bit pointless. Still, pick this EP up if you find it.

Touring for 'Yoshimi' seemed to go on forever, meaning that the next album wouldn't be completed until 2006. In the interim, two DVDs were released, 'VOID' being a welcome reminder of the band's modest origins, following their video history back from immaculately-produced story-based clips like 'Waitin' For A Superman' through to chaotically lo-fi collages like 'When You Smile' and 'Be My Head'. The other release was a documentary directed by the man behind these promos, Bradley Beesley. 'The Fearless Freaks' is not for the faint hearted or easily offended (although i doubt there's many of them on here!), providing surely one of the most in-depth explorations of a still-operational band ever caught on film. It manages to capture all those emotions that have accompanied the musical journey these guys have been on for over two decades, providing an unparalleled insight into what makes a group of people stick together through whatever fate throws at them. It's sad, hilarious, shocking (especially a scene from 2001 featuring Drozd cooking up a shot of heroin in his old flat), and uplifting in the same, delirious way a great Lips song is. I doubt a newcomer would get that much out of it, but for the growing army of Lips loyalists, it's an absolute must.

So what about that new album then? Did they make it three gems in a row? Well, i don't mean to burst the space bubble, but no, and that's a fairly emphatic no. 'At War With The Mystics' took the Lips from a position of total strength and now leaves them looking very fragile creatively. Inevitably, it was the biggest chart hit yet, but a large number of fans got concerned pretty quickly. The album was a mess. Not in the charming way the mid 90's albums were, mind - it seemed positively directionless. There was some sort of vague political underbelly to the whole thing, especially in Wayne's lyrics on the likes of the self-explanatory 'Free Radicals' and 'The WAND'. But this wasn't really backed up with any of the genuine insight that seemed to underpin the sincerity of 'The Soft Bulletin' - i mean, anyone can get pissed off about Bush and let's face it, most right-thinking people do. I realise i've been pretty harsh so far, and it's worth noting that i don't actually hate this album, it's just that it feels so disposable. Where there was bold, experimental production and great musical beauty, we now find aimless electronic meandering and a few good riffs not really going anywhere. Sure, the singles ('Yeah Yeah Yeah Song', 'The WAND') are catchy and exciting in a live setting, but listen to them anywhere else and you'll start getting impatient pretty quickly. At least i do. There ARE good moments though, which provide hope for the band's recording future. 'Pompeii Am Gotterdammerung' is prog-influenced in the very best way possible, possessing a rolling, exhilarating groove, poetic lyrics and wistful chord changes. 'My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion' and 'Vein Of Stars' don't really do anything lyrically, but the music is quite lovely and a reminder of what these guys are capable of. Actually, there it is, the main problem. The lyrics. Wayne seems to have (hopefully on a temporary basis) lost it. I simply refuse to believe that he's really trying to say something or put across some interesting ideas with the lightweight nonsense which renders the likes of 'It Overtakes Me', 'Goin' On' and 'Haven't Got A Clue' so cruelly incapable of taking off. He's fallen into the traps set by guys like Coldplay and U2 - tapping into cliched ideas and images of importance and meaning as a style rather than out of some kind of desire to express something real. Worse still, for the most part, they're merely functional. Steven i'm less worried about - you really get the feeling that these songs would be much better (if still not classic) if Wayne had gotten his act together with the words. There are interesting ideas hidden away all over the place, but they've bafflingly decided to draw attention to all the weakest ones. I still believe in you guys, but come on, you know you can do a hell of a lot better than 'At War With The Mystics'.

Despite my extremely mixed feelings towards the album, i finally got to see the Lips live in Manchester in late 2006. As expected, the sense of occassion overwhelmed the critic in me and i really got into the whole experience. The main change from the Yoshimi tour seemed to be in the outfits of the dancers, who now sported either Father Christmas outfits or alien suits. Wayne was dressed like some vaguely flamboyant after-dinner speaker, Steven wore some kind of grey spacesuit, Michael was sporting a funky, if slightly unoriginal, skeleton suit and drummer Kliph appeared in a red 'Cymru' t-shirt (apparently he's a massive SFA and Gorky's fan). Sure, the luminous yellow beach balls covering the audience got a bit distracting after a while, but they just added to the whole kids-party-gone wrong feel of the thing. 'Race For The Prize' was a wave of good feeling, perhaps the best opener imaginable, whilst the likes of 'Fight Test' and 'A Spoonful Weighs A Ton' provided similarly euphoric moments. The stuff from the new album was more forgivable, even enjoyable, in person, although they didn't bring highlight 'Pompeii' into the set until the next year. So, on the whole, great fun, but not the same emotional upheaval i could imagine the late 90's/early 00's shows to have been. Maybe a few more older songs would have helped (but hey, every fanboy on the planet says that at some point!)? Having occassionally visited the Lips official forum, i've noticed how some fans have grown rather tired of the repetitious nature of the current shows, certain elements which were once a breath of fresh air in the gig world now feeling a bit too stale and gimmicky to have any real impact. As a case in point, Wayne's endless speeches on the injustices of the admittedly disgraceful US Republican administration and the power of hope etc. have become too repetitious to come across with any real impact. Bigger shows have seen the band enter and leave the stage in a Funkadelic/Parliament style UFO, a nice, if distinctly Spinal Tap-esque idea. It will be very interesting to see what happens to The Flaming Lips next, but if anything's certain, it's that you should always be open to the unexpected. Which is fine by me.

WHY DOES EVERYTHING LOOK SO BLAND?

Well, you may be asking this question. At the moment things are looking a bit too wordy for my liking. I'll try to figure out how to brighten things up, get a few videos and stuff in. You'll have to bear with me, i'm deeply technologically-challenged (although everyone says that don't they?).

Thanks to anyone who's already visited. Like i said before, comments are more than welcome - without them, it's really just me talking to myself, and who honestly likes the sound of their own voice?!

Sinbad.

XTC

Drums And Wires - ***1/2

Black Sea - ****

English Settlement - ***1/2

Mummer - ****

The Big Express - ****

(Chips From The Chocolate Fireball - *****)

Skylarking - *****

Oranges And Lemons - ***1/2

Nonsuch - ****

Apple Venus - *****

Wasp Star - **1/2

(Fuzzy Warbles Box Set - ****)

(Chalkhills And Children Book - ****)

Never exactly the coolest of bands, Swindon's XTC had still managed to achieve a fair bit of commercial success and press intrigue, if not necessarily adulation, during the late 1970's. In true 'me' fashion, i don't actually own the first two albums, but from the odd single that's passed my way and the jist/gist of the reviews i've seen, 'White Music' is cartoony, melodic punk with some fun tracks but not one that's gonna stick around on your turntable. Follow-up 'Go 2' is generally seen as a mis-step, its forays away from the tried-and-tested formula falling flat on account of weaker songs and most people by now getting a bit sick of Barry Andrews' unusual but rather tiresome screeching Bontempi organ.

'Drums And Wires' from 1979, however, got things back on track, being strengthened by the presence of David Gregory, a new guitarist and musical foil for main songwriter Andy Partridge. Oddly enough, it's the songs by bassist Colin Moulding which hit hardest here - the classic 'Making Plans For Nigel' with its radio-friendly melody and origianl drumming approach from resident jack-the-lad Terry Chambers, and the Motown stomp and (again) immediate melody of 'Life Begins At The Hop'. The Partridge songs, whilst generally more melodically adventurous, do have a tendency to grate at this point, although i must confess to a soft spot for the charmingly awkward 'When You're Near Me I Have Difficulty'.

Things tighten up and toughen up generally on the following year's 'Black Sea' (trust me, these guys were pretty prolific during their early period). Although the guitars carry a bit more weight, the sheer classicism of Partridge and Moulding's songs, along with smart production from a young Steve Lillywhite, keep it all very focussed. Although the writing would get more adventurous in later years, this stands as one of the most consistent XTC albums, from the witty 'Respectable Street' to the skittering 'Generals And Majors' and 'Love At First Sight'. Actually, this might be a pretty good starting point for more rock-oriented newcomers.

The next album, 'English Settlement', has often been hailed as the group's finest early achievement. Personally, i actually consider it a rather less consistent affair than 'Black Sea', being an album dotted with some glorious compositions but a victim of its own diversity. I'm all for bands stretching out a bit and trying new things, but for me, the songs don't quite manage to back up these dalliances. The strongest material seems to appear at the two ends of the album, the first few songs being among XTC's very best. 'Senses Working Overtime', for instance, should be played to the likes of Coldplay and U2 as an example of how to write a song that can be truly life-affirming without ramming its self-importance down our throats with empty gestures. 'Runaways', 'Ball And Chain' and 'Jason And The Argonauts' all display a band fully capable of using traditional 60's pop songcraft to genuinely unique ends. Closing double-shot 'English Roundabout' and 'Snowman' stand as the best of the more stylistically ambitious tracks, seamlessly adopting ska/reggae influenced rhythms. There are a couple of other winners, but there's are vast swathes of this double-album which pass by pleasantly but fail to be truly involving. Perhaps a concise single album would have been a wiser bet.

Fans will be all too familiar with what happened next. Andy developed severe stage fright, resulting in an end to XTC as a live entity and eventually the departure of Terry Chambers. Partridge's recovery is captured on 1983's transitional 'Mummer'. Now, some fans will want me arrested for saying something so absurd, but i actually prefer this to 'English Settlement'. I'm fully aware that the best songs are on that album, but as a complete listening experience, i just find this more... welcoming seems appropriate. It feels very 'small', whatever that means, possibly due to the low-key production. Having said that, both songwriters contribute some truly lovely melodies here. 'Love On A Farmboy's Wages', 'Great Fire' and 'In Loving Memory Of A Name' all just scream out 'XTC' with their intricate sturctures, engaging chord changes and unpretentiously evocative instrumentation (is it just me or does the bass on 'Farmboy' imitate a cow at one point?!). Admittedly, there's the small matter of the dire 'Me And The Wind' to get past, but the closing 'Funk Pop A Roll' pulls things back with exhilirating style and passion.

Another oft-dismissed member of the XTC family is 1984's 'The Big Express'. I'm not going to argue for a second with accusations that the production is distinctly overcooked at times. On the other hand, i must declare this one of the finest albums in terms of lyrical content that i have ever heard. Partridge is simply on fire, with the likes of 'Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her' (think the Beach Boys relocating to a drizzly Bognor Regis), the Kinks-with kazoos 'Everyday Story Of Smalltown' and 'genuinely moving cautionary tale of This World Over' not just packing considerable melodic punch, but also saying so much more with breathtaking eloquence than virtually any other artist at the time or since. To be honest, i'll never be able to get on board with the ridiculous 'Shake Your Donkey Up' or 'Reign Of Blows', but some of the other more overblown moments, such as the sea-faring 'All You Pretty Girls', can't help but pull you in with their audacious charm. Another impressive closing one-two win over any doubts, Moulding's 'I Remember The Sun' displaying a disarming wistfulness and Partridge's 'Train Running Low On Soul Coal' making fascinating use of locomotive metaphors and a previously largely-concealed Captain Beefheart fixation.

Yes, 'Mummer' and 'The Big Express' are well worth sticking with, but if you want something that's going to grab you by the shoulders and whisk you away back to a world that possibly never quite existed, 'Chips From The Chocolate Frireball' is indispensible. Compiling two John Leckie-produced EPs recorded under the pseudonym The Dukes Of Stratosphear, this album is both a total novelty and a total gem, openly paying tribute to psychedelic classics by, for example, The Beatles, Syd-era Pink Floyd, The Hollies and The Beach Boys. The plaigirism is shameless, the enthusiasm and deftness of touch almost unbearably convincing. I honestly can't think of another album that's so much fun to listen to. 'Bike Ride To The Moon', for instance, takes the Barrett template and sends it into surreal singalong hyperspace, whilst 'The Mole From The Ministry' openly yet triumphantly mimicks 'I Am The Walrus', right down to the joyous video (try YouTube). The real reason this works so magically, though, is the sheer quality of the songs and clarity of vision. I mean, the space-rock mid-section on '25 O'Clock' - well, for me, that groove's pretty damn close to genius. 'Vanishing Girl' stands as one of the most melodic songs in the enitre back catalogue of a band that trades very heavily in melody. Things get hard to believe by the end on 'Pale And Precious', a mid-to-late-60's Beach Boys replica which not only beats hands down a lot of the subsequent, admittedly wonderful Wilson and Co. efforts, but even gives the transcendent beauty of 'Pet Sounds' and 'Smile' a serious run for its money. Tellingly, there are a lot of people out there who don't really rate XTC but can't help but appreciate what they managed to achieve as The Dukes.

So after all that wonderful mucking about, what happened with the next album proper? Well, Todd Rundgren was brought in to produce, which may sound like a serendipitous meeting between masters of the form, but the relationship was extremely strained, Rundgren's uncommunicative approach baffling the band and Andy's by now notoriously uncompromising attitude towards production leading to a virtual impasse (Partridge brilliantly comparing the situation to having "two Hitlers in the same bunker"). When 'Skylarking' emerged in 1986, though, such controversies took a back seat. Although commercially it initially failed to build upon the weak performance of the last two LPs (at least until the infamous 'Dear God' single came out), crtitcs and loyal devotees were stunned by the childlike wonder contained within. From the evocative splendour of 'Summer's Cauldron' to the aquatic dream world of 'Mermaid Smiled' (criminally left off some pressings), from the spy-theme jazzy meander of 'The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul' to the plain-astonishing pop hook-a-thon of 'Earn Enough For Us', the album seemed to combine the finest elements of their two previous attempts at a pastorally-themed work, 'English Settlement' and 'Mummer', whilst simultaneously taking the songwriting to a whole new level. As ever, some tracks may seem a little over-eager at first, but they should work their way into your heart soon enough!

Could they keep this run going? In my opinion, no, they didn't quite manage it. 1989's 'Oranges And Lemons' is another album heavily praised in some quarters, but part of me thinks some listeners have been overly distracted by the awe-inspiring technicolour artwork. All of XTC's production over-indulgences across the years are swiftly put into perspective by the absolute mess that greets you on this double LP. Don't get me wrong, there are several great songs hiding under all the creaking chandeliers and buttresses, but man, you'd think the band didn't want you to find them! The unashamedly sugary pop of Moulding's 'King For A Day', the satirical fanfares of 'Here Comes President Kill Again', the winding chords and rhythms of 'Scarecrow People'... these are all great XTC songs, but any flow the album hopes to build up is scuppered by such offenders as 'Merely A Man' and 'The Loving'. I mean, SERIOUSLY, did these sound like a good idea in the studio? Personally, i simply can't listen to them. Maybe if i heard an acoustic version or something, but in this form, they're pretty much unbearable to my ears. It's all a bit of a shame, especially when the closing song is so wonderful. 'Chalkhills And Children' rivals 'Pale And Precious' in the Beach-Boys-come-to-Wiltshire stakes, almost recalling (remarkably) that Scott Walker beauty 'Plastic Palace People' in its "floating over strange lands" metaphors and elegiac atmosphere. Here, though, such poetic images are used to effortlessly describe the "fickle fire" of fame. Seriously, it's really beautiful and makes sitting through the rambling chaos which precedes it all worthwhile.

Perversely, 'Oranges And Lemons' was their biggest commercial success for years (especially in the US), so the pressure was on for follow-up 'Nonsuch'. Of course, as living proof of the cautionary tale behind 'Chalkhills And Children', the album flopped, although it now stands today as a significant improvement from its predecessor. I've just realised that i've barely mentioned Dave Gregory in all of this. Well, he'd always been a more-than-capable decorator for the lavish fantasies of Partridge and Moulding's songs, but here he really excels himself, especially in his wonderfully delicate piano and organ contributions. Two songs stand out from the rest - the haunting, mournful, yet impossibly heavenly 'Rook' and the latest, overwhelmingly successful attempt to superglue together all the gorgeous bits of peak-period Brian Wilson and Burt Bacharach, 'Wrapped In Grey'. How Andy constructed these toweringly beautiful edifices of sound and emotion is frankly beyond me, some of the harmonic and lyrical twists proving almost too much for this poor sap. Away from these masterpieces, there's plenty of more standard XTC fare, with several songs creating an almost medieval feel to complement the sleeve art. 'Humble Daisy' touches the emotions in a way only Partridge can, 'Omnibus' clatters through your synapses with a thrillingly lolloping groove, and Moulding's 'My Bird Performs' and 'Bungalow' find the band's second songwriter reaching new levels of eloquence and creativity. Yeah, there's a few duds in there ('War Dance' being the weakest on offer), but there's enough prime pop cuts like The Ballad Of Peter Pumpkinhead' and 'The Disappointed' to compensate.

Now we reach a real crossroads, as XTC effectively go on strike in response to the raw deal they're getting from label Virgin, having to wait over five years to be fully released from their obligations. During this time, though, Partridge (as well as embarking upon numerous collaborations) managed to take what he'd learnt on songs like 'Rook' and 'Wrapped In Grey' and gather all the messy emotions he was experiencing at this time (he was also going through a divorce), resulting in a set of songs which dwarfed even 'Skylarking' once they were finally able to record them. It wasn't easy though. During by all accounts one of the most laborious, painful recording processes in rock history (at least among those not fuelled by hard drugs), Dave Gregory finally tired of Andy's incessant demands. He still contributed the odd bit of varnish here and there, but overall, 1999's 'Apple Venus', once finally completed, was the work of a songwriting duo. And it's absolutely glorious. If no idea why it's not more widely praised, or why it doesn't regularly pop up in all those '100 Greatest Albums' pieces in Q and Mojo. OK, so for an all-time classic, it's a little inconsistent ('Your Dictionary' doesn't quite hold together, 'Green Man' goes on a bit too long and Moulding's songs are fun but not quite up to the standards of his partner's), but that definitely shouldn't stop anyone unaware of its hidden glories from jumping in feet first. Some may be put off initially by the uncomfortable honesty of the lyrics, but you soon realise that Andy has opened up to the listener in an almost incomparable gesture of faith and, on balance, probably gratitude for sticking with the bad for so long. The orchestral flourishes dusted over recent albums give way to full string arrangements, from the cascading pizzicato treasure of 'River Of Orchids' to the tearful, heartbroken swells of 'I Can't Own Her'. In the words of the Small Faces, it really is "all too beautiful", a very English record which transcends all those silly musical boundaries and joins that exalted group of timeless works of art. One song, 'Easter Theatre', genuinely defies any form of categorization. What on earth is going on with those chords, the sawing, building strings, the fragile poetry of the lyrics (a pitch-perfect depiction of the frantic pleasures of Spring)? It's quite simply one of the finest pieces of music i've had the pleasure to hear. Sure, it won't blow your mind in the same way after you've heard it a few times, but that goes for all other revolutionary moments in art. I could go through the rest of the songs in great detail, but frankly, i'm sure i wouldn't do them justice. Just go and buy the damn thing.

My introduction to 'Apple Venus' came via the recent 'Apple Box' set, which combines that album with its demoes, as well as featuring its follow-up sister album (along with its demoes), 'Wasp Star'. Anyone expecting another life-changing epic will be disappointed though. In fact, it's probably my least favourite XTC album. Which is a real shame, given the roll these guys were on. It's the material... it's just not quite up to the usual standard. There's little inherently wrong with it, but it just feels very forced, making it almost impossible to fall in love with. Abandoning the orchestral graces of the previous LP, here we find a very ordinary sounding production, all nice-but-uninvolving guitar riffs and intricate-but-sterile percussion. Yeah, it's listenable - 'Playground', 'You And The Clouds Will Still Be Beautiful' and Colin's 'Standing In For Joe' and 'In Another Life' are all attractive enough - but it sure won't stick around in your memory for long. There's next to no feel, which hurts all the more given the massively empathetic production and songwriting of 'Apple Venus'. Plus there are a few truly appalling songs, 'My Brown Guitar' and 'Wounded Horse' not deserving a place in the XTC discography. It hurts to be like this, but the (seemingly) final album from the Partridge/Moulding world of pop is a whole heap of... average.

Let's not finish on such a bleak note, though. Over seven years down the line, with the band all but consigned to the history books and the odd ill-founded comparison in reviews of the latest posey, new-wave-influenced quartet, out came the 'Fuzzy Warbles Collector's Album'. I realise that i was slightly behind most devotees, who will have gathered the numerous slices of demo heaven from the Partridge archives unleashed sporadically over the years. Still, i found the eight-disc behemoth (plus obligatory bonus disc) going cheap and took the plunge... and what a thoroughly involving insight into the processes of an eccentirc pop mastermind it is too! Although by nature inconsistent (some of this material had very little hope of reaching a proper XTC album), you end up loving it for its wild, careering strangeness. Accompanied by wonderfully warm sleeve notes, we get demoes of XTC classics, bizarre experiments and genuinely hilarious pastiches/bits of studio nonsense. Then there's a whole bunch of unreleased material. Like i said, it's not all album-quality, but it's never less than charming, and occassionally revelatory (try 'Dame Fortune', 'Wonder Annual', 'Tiny Circus Of Life', 'Rocket', 'Goosey Goosey' and 'Prince Of Orange' for size). Obviously not a starting point, this is still a great investment for those true XTC obsessives who still lurk in their semi-detatched houses out in the darkest corners of some grotty English suburb (?!).

As for extra-curricular material, there aren't any official DVDs out there at the moment, but some super fellas have thrown a whole bunch of rare footage and TV appearances onto YouTube, so get searching! There is a book though, 'Chalkhills And Children' by Chris Twomey, a fine attempt at distilling the band's sprawling history into one, relatively brief read. Although i'm still hoping (perhaps in vain) for a Partridge autobiography, this will more than suffice for the time being.

SCOTT WALKER

Scott - ****1/2
Scott 2 - ****1/2
Scott 3 - *****
Scott 4 - *****
'Til The Band Comes In - ****1/2
Moviegoer - **1/2
(Shutout EP - ****1/2)
Climate Of Hunter - ****
Boy Child - *****
Tilt - ****1/2
The Drift - ****1/2
30 Century Man Documentary - ****

(NB - This was written in one of those tunnel-vision early morning moments of over-excitement and over-indulgence. I may come back and edit it at some point, but it should still hopefully make SOME sense)

Of course, before the now-renowned run of late 60's solo albums, there was the alma mater pop trio The Walker Brothers. Being a cheap bastard, i only own a run-of-the-mill hits-plus-covers compliation purchased on a whim some time after i'd collected the solo work. I'm sure most readers will know and admire (if not necessarily love) the Spector-influenced orchestral pop singles... well OK, i can't argue against 'The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Any More' or 'Make It Easy On Yourself'. There's also a handful of fascinating 'trial runs' for the directions followed by Scott following the split, including the enticing 'Orpheus' and truly evocative 'Mrs. Murphy'. On the whole, though, the real work of change kicked in when Noel Engel (to use his real name) cut loose and got all existential on us. Sure, the jaw-dropping voice was in place, but things were about to get a lot stranger.

'Scott' came in 1968, packing one hell of a punch and racing up the charts. This seems amazing given how out-of-place all the talk of death, sailors and 'stomach rooms' must have seemed. 'Montague Terrace (In Blue)', 'Such A Small Love' and 'Always Coming Back To You' are the only self-written tracks here, the former being the most astonishingly elegant but all three demonstrating a clear deftness of touch and ability to express so much through his lyrics. The Jacques Brel covers are immaculate also, although a lot of credit must go to Mort Shuman's incredible translations, not allowing the galloping 'Mathilde', the strident 'My Death' and the chaotic 'Amsterdam' to lose one ounce of meaning and power. Among such masterpieces, the more standard covers can't really stand out, but they never sound anything less than luxurious in such capable hands.

The second in this magical run of LPs follows a similar structure but a few more Walker originals are unleashed, someone perhaps realising that, my god, these might just be better than all those classics he's been covering. 'Plastic Palace People' is one of the most breathtaking moments in the Walker canon, the string arrangement providing the billowing winds which carry Scott's frightened young child and his balloon above the town and up to the life-affirming chorus (although such an arbitrary term seems ill-fitting for this all-too-fleeting musical moment). 'The Amorous Humphrey Plugg' is one of the most convincing character studies you'll ever hear, whilst the two Brel interpretations (the storming yet wistful 'Jackie' and murky underworld of 'Next') more than hold their own next to such exalted works. The only reason this isn't a five-star classic is the presence of the odd so-so cover version. It's still absolutely essential though.

Then things take yet another step up with 'Scott 3', an album so profoundly romantic yet hopelessly lost in thought that it seems to be running on loop somewhere in my subconscious. I find it hard to imagine people hearing the likes of 'Rosemary', 'Copenhagen', ''It's Raining Today', 'Butterfly', 'Big Louise'... Christ, the whole damn thing, without their minds switching into a different gear, reaching some sort of higher plateau of emotional resonance. I know these people exist, and i shouldn't judge them for it, but god, they're missing out aren't they?! This music moves me in ways i really shouldn't say, let's leave it at that. Amusingly, there are three Brel covers attached at the end. I'm sure they're great, but i will always look upon them as bonus tracks attached as an afterthought to some vivid flight of fancy. For me, the album, and a small part of me, dies and floats away with the fading traces of haunted piano which close 'Two Weeks Since You've Gone'.

Somehow, less than a year later, 'Scott 4' appeared, and although it inexplicably flopped on a grand scale at the time, it's generally seen today as his finest hour. Although my heart will always belong to its predecessor, i'm fully able to appreciate the astonishing power that this entirely self-written album also carries. Although it still packs a mighty blow for the romantics among us, the feel and lyrics are more abstract, even otherworldly on the likes of 'Boy Child'. The mournful eloquence of 'On Your On Again' and 'Hero Of The War' is just as overwhelming as anything on 'Scott 3', whilst the likes of 'The Seventh Seal' and 'The Old Man's Back Again' find Walker taking in new and equally vital inspiration. As ever, the arrangements are beyond reproach. To be honest, it's hard for me to imagine a world in which these two albums didn't exist.

Soooooooo... yeah, after that emotionally exhausting yet immeasurably rewarding run of albums, we get '1970's 'Til The Band Comes In'. Although the so-so closing covers make it impossible to grant this a full five stars, the sheer breadth of vision continued on the strongest material here makes it yet another essential offering for those who 'get' Scott. The tone noticeably lightens, possibly due to record company hand-wringing over the disastrous commercial performance of 'Scott 4'. For the first ime in a while, there's orchestral pop which could have plausibly been a chart hit (the dramatic title track, the gloriously-arranged 'Thanks For Chicago Mr. James'). There's also a real oddity in the form of the humorous interlude 'Jean The Machine', as well as some trademark galloping rhythms on 'Little Things' and some borderline-country strummin' on 'Cowbells Shakin''. A jazz feel makes the hopelessly depressed 'Joe' totally absorbing, but gets put to best use on the bittersweet haunted house that is 'Time Operator', a song that would be almost hilarious if it wasn't so profoundly sad. To conclude the 'real' album, there's 'War Is Over (Epilogue)', the total classic on the album which feels like an aftershock of the emotions you felt so powerfully during 'Scott 3'.

Perhaps unavoidably, the story goes a bit haywire at this juncture - Scott basically goes off the rails a bit and loses interest in the quality of the music he's releasing. I have only heard one album from this period, 'The Moviegoer'. It's not actually dreadful, there are a few very attractive covers in there, but there's way too much twiddling of thumbs going on creatively. it's almost painful to know what the guy's capable of and hear him being so... average!

A Walker Brothers reunion came and went during the mid-1970's, but an unexpected twist at the end of that tale led to the rejuvenation of Scott the artist. The band went into 1978's 'Nite Flights' album knowing that it was their last and effectively did whatever they wanted. In the case of the other two 'brothers', this involved trying (and failing) to copy the truly groundbreaking experiments which Scott instigated on the four tracks which are probably best considered as a separate EP (released as such in Japan as 'The Shutdown EP'). These songs don't sound much like old Scott at all, but match his earlier solo work in terms of their unsettling fearlessness. 'Nite Flights' seems to draw upon the propulsive rhythms coming out of Germany at the time, which simultaneously mix with bizarre, almost frightening yet indescribably beautiful chord changes and desolately angular harmonies far removed from 'Love Her' and 'Everything Under The Sun'. 'The Shutout' and 'Fat Mama Kick' develop these advances further, but 'The Electrician' finds Walker unveiling a disturbing combination of the romantic heart swells he used so powerfully in his solo prime and a terrifying story of torture and abuse. An oasis of beautiful harmonies and heavenly strings and harps carries the piece's mid-section but this is imprisoned on either side by two walls of ominous, ghoulish atmospherics. To summarise, the New Scott Walker starts here.

After the likes of Julian Cope and Marc Almond began to namecheck and salute the "godlike genius" of Walker in the post-punk early 1980's, he was given an opportunity to try his hand again at a solo album. It's hard to tell if anyone at Virgin honestly expected a collection of pop confections, but they quite emphatically didn't get it. 1984's 'Climate Of Hunter' was quite ridiculously insular. Yes, it was influenced (both positively and negatively) by music of the time, but anyone who sat down and listened to the album would have had no illusions that Scott could ever fit in with the contemporary mood and fashion. I'm pretty much certain that i'll never quite get my head around the lyrics, trading not just in disturbing imagery but also disembodied fragments of language. The music is similarly baffling. Taken on the strength of three tracks, this album would be a clear five star classic. Opener 'Rawhide' sends shivers throughout the body as it plugs straight into those inner recesses which had been longing for some more Scott for years, the period production actually helping to propel the building arrangement towards its lofty peak then float away just like 'Plastic Palace People' all that time ago. 'Dealer' follows and is nearly as remarkable, almost dub-like in its clattering atmosphere and crawling rhythms yet climbing up icy walls of wonderful, clashing noise to further unexplorer heights. The other absolute stunner is 'Sleepwalker's Woman', a clear link back to his late 60's but undisputably worthy in its own right, capturing a sense of motionless despair with a wall of hovering strings and (again) beautiful chord changes. So far, so classic, but things get very confused from here on. There are two more strong, albeit less involving, pieces in the form of the dense atonality of 'Track Six' and the surprisingly strong Mark Knopfler (of all people) guitar piece 'Blanket Roll Blues'. Then there are three other untitled tracks which resolutely fail, despite some good ideas, to overcome the cloying 80's production, the guitar wank/Billy Ocean collaboration of 'Track Three' being the worst offender. So, overall, you MUST hear the three classics, but the rest... meh, i could
really give or take. One of the weirdest albums i own.

Before the next stage in Scott's journey into the great unknown came the small matter of a proper compilation of his self-written solo material. Although i doubt the man himself had much to do with it, 'Boy Child' does exactly what it should, providing an excellent introduction to the more accessible end of his now-bulging back catalogue - it was in fact my first step into the mind of one of music's great originals. Alongside a great selection of tracks from all the essential early solo LPs, there's a superb rarity in the form of 'The Plague' , B-side to 'Jackie' (i think) and a unique, almost rocking moment in the man's history. Any newbies out there, start here, then you'll hopefully want the rest.

With that out of the way, we can all safely return to abnormal programming with 1995's 'Tilt', over 11 years on from 'Climate Of Hunter' and just as shockingly strange as that album was. It's worth noting that the rich baritone we know and love hasn't aged as one might have expected. Although just as powerful in its own way, Scott's new voice operates much more on dramatic changes in dynamics and tone than on the usual sense of power and effortless control. The 80's production is pretty much gone, these tracks trading on a much sparser feel and aesthetic. I'm sure some fans walked away at this point, and i can sympathise, given the fact that, on first listen, Walker seems to be doing everything within his power to incite such a reaction. But, as ever, perseverance reaps its own rewards, and this is just as thrilling an album, if not more so, as 'Climate Of Hunter' was when it got its act together. Like the rest of the LP, the lyrics to opener 'Farmer In The City' will take a lifetime of pondering to get into (it's probably best if i don't try to interpret any of them here), but the graceful, plunging string arrangement makes that effort more than worthwhile. 'The Cockfighter' sounds suspiciously like an avant-garde noise composition on first exposure, but get past that initial wall of nerve-shredding sound and you'll reach a quite remarkable composition, full of dynmaic shifts and chord changes you'd swear you've never heard before or since. 'Bouncer See Bouncer' is 'The Electrician' only more so, two walls of industrial howling and clanging giving way all too briefly to a passage of indescribable beauty. 'Manhattan' may sound a bit to grandstanding at first, but reveals subtlety and customary intelligence on further listens. After this though, the album shifts a little too far away from our old friends melody and harmony on the tracks 'Face On Breast' and 'Bolivia' - they're undoubtedly worthy compositions, just not something that i've found a great deal of emotional significance in yet. No need for concern, as the next track 'Patriot' brings a whole heap of mind-opening beauty and revelations, sounding like a distant cousin of that life-affirming 80's track 'Sleepwalker's Woman'. The title track brings, of all things, a vaguely country feel in its rolling rhythms and twanging guitar, which still manage to fit in amongst the esoteric poetry and unsettling arrangement. Closer 'Rosary' is a now-typical low key yet brooding parting shot, suggesting an inner conflict which may leave our consciousness as the album ends, but is never quite resolved. Why such an in-depth analysis? Well, it's simply impossible to be succinct about this one i'm afraid.

Same goes for 2006's 'The Drift'. The previous album sounds like a Phil Spector Christmas record next to the vast, uncomfortable open spaces of this one. First song 'Cossacks Are' is wonderfully misleading, its propulsive groove and towering guitar suggesting that Scott's gone all accessible on us. The lyrics are still a daunting mosaic if there ever was one, but you could be forgiven for expecting an easier ride. 'Clara' shocks you out of your complacency, being an extended epic covering myriad themes and emotions, all loosely connected to the final days of Mussolini's Italy. One section ("his enormous eyes...") appears through the mist of jarring chords and chattering percussion as a heart-skipping moment of clarity before the horror kicks back in. A punishing listen, but worth it. The unremittingly dense, violent mood makes the likes of 'Jesse' and 'Hand Me Ups' almost unbearable, but somehow you keep listening. One particularly nightmarish passage during the 10-minute 'Cue' appears so suddenly out of complete silence, you'll swear something's going seriously wrong with your brain. It's Scott who's putting himself through the emotional wrangler for you, though, digging up intrusive visions and disturbing dreams and scattering them across the grooves of the record. There's more conventional moments beauty in there too, though (parts of 'Buzzers' for instance), as well as some hypnotic percussion on 'Psoriatic' (who else would use such a title?!). Maddest moment of all though? Has to be the conclusion of the horrific 'Escape'. Either the sound of Scott crossing over to the other side or one of the darkest moments of humour since Chris Morris' 'Jam', Daffy Duck inexplicably appears during the crawling outro, screeching "What's Up Doc?" as the track fades. Absolute genius, whatever the intention. Overall, i would not advise anyone to listen to 'The Drift' very often. But when you're in the right mood for it, it presents unknown levels of fear, beauty and desolation.

As if that wasn't enough, there's the recent documentary '30 Century Man', which follows Scott's entire artistic development as well as featuring remarkable insights into the making of 'The Drift' (animal carcass percussion included). There's also a whole heap of input from various 'celebrities' and fellow artists, some contributing usefully to the thrust of the narrative, others just spouting drivel. I won't mention names, watch it for yourself, but it does hold an otherwise fascinating movie back from greatness.

So yeah. That Scott Walker... he's a bit of alright isn't he?!

LINKS

All of these are more than worthy of your time and attention...

http://www.headheritage.co.uk - Official Julian Cope website, full discography, merchandiser, very good and friendly forum, area for user reviews etc...

http://www.adriandenning.co.uk - One of the first review sites i came across and probably one of the best. Don't agree with everything, but it's all very well written, thought out etc.

http://www.metacritic.com - Quite a nice reference tool for recent (admittedly fairly mainstream) music. Collects reviews from all over the place.

http://www.allmusic.com - Usually the first place i head if i'm inspired or bored. Probably the best search tool out there (at least that i know of).

http://psychedelicobscurities.blogspot.com - One of my personal favourite blogs, turned me onto a bunch of interesting stuff recently

http://www.mojo4music.com/blog/features/discoftheday/archive.html - I personally have mixed feelings about the magazine itself, but this is a nice place to randomly stumble upon something new.

http://starling.rinet.ru/music/index.htm - Now appears to have closed down, but there's still a good archive of interesting, very opinionated reviews.

http://www.markprindle.com/ - Hard to take too seriously, this is good for a laugh if you're not too easily shocked and have a somewhat wayward sense of humour.

http://fyfe.fusion.net.nz/ - Another decent review site, quite new but building up a great archive.

http://jhendrix110.tripod.com/Music.html - Another nicely opinionated one, quite a few obscurities as the title suggests.

Enjoy,

Sinbad.

THE 20 GREATEST ALBUMS OF ALL TIME... ACCORDING TO ONE SMALL MAN

To give a bit more of an impression of where things will be heading, here's a quickly-compiled list of what i would probably consider to be my favourite albums.

1. The Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
2. Brian Wilson/The Beach Boys - Smile
3. The Teardrop Explodes - Wilder
4. Love - Forever Changes
5. The Smiths - The Queen Is Dead
6. Scott Walker - Scott 3
7. Super Furry Animals - Mwng
8. Robyn Hitchcock - I Often Dream Of Trains
9. XTC - Apple Venus
10. Scott Walker - Scott 4
11. Julian Cope - Fried
12. John Cale - Paris 1919
13. The La's - The La's
14. The Zombies - Odyssey And Oracle
15. Beach Boys - Pet Sounds
16. Primal Scream - Vanishing Point
17. Neu! - Neu! '75
18. Morrissey - Vauxhall And I
19. United States Of America - United States Of America
20. Os Mutantes - Os Mutantes (1st)

I can think of about 50 albums i've wrongly left out, but hell, it's a start...

Thanks,
Sinbad.

JULIAN COPE

World Shut Your Mouth - ****1/2
Fried - *****
Saint Julian - ***1/2
My Nation Underground - **1/2
Skellington - ****
Droolian - ***1/2
Peggy Suicide - ****1/2
Floored Genius - ****1/2
Jehovahkill - ****1/2
Rite - ****
Floored Genius 2 - ****1/2
Skellington 2 - ***1/2
20 Mothers - ***1/2
Interpreter - ***1/2
Followers Of St. Julian - ****
Rite 2 - ****
Floored Genius 3 - ****
Audience With Julian Cope - **1/2
Rite Now - ***
Live Japan '91 - ****
Rite Bastard - ***
Christ vs Warhol - ****
You Gotta Problem With Me - ***1/2

Plus...
Copeulation (Video) - ****1/2
Modern Antiquarian (Video) - ****
Head-On (Book) - *****
Krautrocksampler (Book) - ****1/2
Repossessed (Book) - *****

So, that was it for The Teardrop Explodes... but Julian lived to fight another day, albeit in a somewhat damaged state which inevitably informed his early solo work. 1984's 'World Shut Your Mouth' (oddly not featuring the future Top 20 hit of the same name), possesses a unique atmosphere, occassionally reminiscent of 'Wilder' but undoubtedly its own thing. There's a lot more guitar here, although not in any overtly rockist sense. The likes of 'Strasbourg' and 'Bandy's First Jump' are typically tuneful and exhilirating twisted pop gems, whilst the twitchy 'Kolly Kibber's Birthday' and downright absurd first single 'Sunshine Playroom' show Cope to be more than willing to mess with the formula. The melancholy's never far away, though, as heard on the touching drone lament 'Head Hang Low' and the wistful outro of 'Lunatic And Fire Pistol'.

Our man steps up the ante even further on his second solo outing 'Fried', almost surpassing 'Wilder' for unique vision. The previous album's atmosphere is amplified and built upon, the sleeve depiction of Cope naked under a shell and playing with a miniature lorry on a desolate hill perfectly capturing the unsettling openness of the music contained within. Not that there aren't a few pop/rock classics thrown in for good measure (the aggressive anti-hunting epic 'Reynard The Fox', the laugh-out-loud 'Bill Drummond Said', the ornate romantic guitar-pop treasures 'Sunspots' and 'Holy Love'). It's just that the real backbone of the album is to discovered in the loneliness evoked by the hazy contemplation of 'Laughing Boy', the sparse yet truly moving 'Me Singing' and the autumnal shades of 'Search Party'. Obviously cut with the finest songwriting chops and possessing a notable degree of non-wanky guitar prowess (partly courtesy of newbie Donald Ross Skinner), this, my friends, is the good shit.

Of course, in true Cope style, Julian went in a totally different direction for the 1987 album 'Saint Julian'. In the intervening years, both his image and sound were tightened up considerably, although perhaps not always for the better. Sure, there's some mighty fine garage-pop single material here (minor hits 'World Shut Your Mouth' and 'Trampolene' in particular), but some of the material simply lacks his customary charm. The glossy production has to be to blame a bit on the likes of 'Planet Ride' though.

Follow-up 'My Nation Underground' moved even further in this direction, featuring a couple of great singles ('Charlotte Anne' and the swooning 'China Doll'), but really wasn't prime Cope. Now dismissed both by artist and fans as probably his weakest album, it's not without bright spots, but won't keep you coming back for more.

Clearly a knee-jerk reaction to such indulgence, 'Skellington' benefits massively from a lo-fi ambience and songs picked from the back pages of the Cope songbook perhaps lacking the commercial viability of recent offerings but much more likely to turn on the old charm. The playing is again surprisingly impressive at times, but not to the point that it hides the sheer fun at the heart of songs such as the singalong rocker 'Out Of My Mind On Dope And Speed', the plain-brilliant stroll of 'Robert Mitchum' and the genuinely hilarious 'No How, No Why, No Way, No Where, No When'.

'Droolian', recorded and released in very small numbers for the benefit of recently imprisoned psych-rock legend and 13th Floor Elevators leader Roky Erickson, follows a similar template to 'Skellington'. It possibly floats away a little too easily on the campfire vibe at times, but still holds you in with ditties like 'Jellypop Perky Jean' and the impossibly blissed-out 'Commin' Down'.

A few years in the wilderness coincided with this artistic volte-face, but Cope came back as strident as ever with the critically-adored 'Peggy Suicide' in 1991. Although the odd track among the 20 presented here sounds a bit too in thrall of the in-vogue 'baggy' beat, the songwriting, political thrust and ambition behind the set more than compensate. The 'Hanging Out' two-parter is particularly storming, superbly combining Julian's love of snotty garage rock and expansive Krautrock, whilst the likes of 'Beautiful Love' and 'If You Loved Me At All' are clear challengers for best ever Cope pop song.

The 'Floored Genius' compliation followed on from this and stands as the best introduction to all things Cope/Teardrop available. It flows very nicely in its own right, but will most likely leave you wanting more, exactly as a good compilation should.

'Jehovahkill' followed a similar structure to 'Peggy Suicide' but introduced a soon-to-be-prevalent theme of ancient history to the already overflowing cauldron of influence. It's more serious in tone (perhaps a little too much so on 'No Hard Shoulder To Cry On'!), but just as thrilling, spanning funky folk pop ('The Mystery Trend'), soaring Krautrock tributes ('Subtle Energies Commission', 'Necropolis') and even thoroughly bonkers techno funk ('Poet Is Priest').

After being dropped by his label following that record's baffling failure, Cope tried something new on 1993's 'Rite', a colection of four extremely spaced out, gentle meditational grooves, demonstrating the influence of the more creative/less pretentious end of progressive rock, as well as the more expansive elements of 70's funk.

'Floored Genius 2' is another real treat for fans, featuring a marvellous set of BBC session recordings simply oozing his normal charm, from the drum machine pop heaven of 'Greatness And Perfection Of Love' to the forgotten sad jangle of 'Christmas Mourning' and even finding room for a medley incorporating the likes of Frank Zappa and Funkadelic.

Following the popularity of the original 'Skellington', a similarly lo-fi sequel was cooked up. Released with its predecessor as 'Ye Skellington Chronicles', it didn't surpass the first collection, but still contained enough odd-pop gems like the pretty 'London Underground', disturbed lounge groove 'Madonna Bag Lady Blues' and the thinly-veiled Count Five tribute 'The Angel And The Fellatress' to satisfy.

It's around this stage that things got rather spotty in terms of the main Cope releases. I don't actually own 'Autogeddon' but it's apparently weighed down by its muddy production and unwelcoming songwriting. I do, however, own 1995's '20 Mothers', which might just be the most all-over-the-place album of them all, but just about manages to pull together under the umbrella of sheer Cope-ness. The last of the lengthier epics (at least for the time being), this one's got predictably reliable guitar pop ('Try Try Try') sweet orchestral numbers ('I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud') and intimate acoustic paeans to fatherhood ('I'm Your Daddy', 'Cryingbabiessleeplessnights'), as well as the requisite amount of guileless mucking about (synth pop ridiculousness on 'Just Like Pooh Bear').

Actually, scrap that... the next year's 'Interpreter' has to be the most all-over-the-place album of them all. So much so that it seriously divided fans and critics. There's swinging lounge ('Maid Of Constant Sorrow'), operatic space-rock ('s.p.a.c.e.r.o.c.k. With Me') and even a bloody rap track ('The Loveboat'). Yes folks, we're a long way from base camp at this point. But don't get too concerned, there's enough reliably pretty guitar-led pop like 'Planetary Sit-In', 'Since I Lost My Head' and the glorious 'I Come From Another Planet Baby' to keep any swing voters on side for the time being.

This is where our man pretty much gives up on any interest in commercial viability. There's still the odd compliation to keep the faithful contented though. 'Followers Of Saint Julian' collects the B-sides from that strange period where Cope was still a realistic proposition for chart success. Amusingly enough, it also shows the sheer audacity of the man, exemplifying his habit of putting some truly bonkers material on the reverse of some of his most mainstream work. To be honest, i actually prefer this collection to the main album from this period, given that it tells us much more about the guy than the fun but slightly sterile chart fodder of 'Saint Julian' itself. You get live tracks, some choice covers of key influences, remixes, unhinged experiments, but most importantly of all, some great Cope originals in the form of the exhilirating brass-led psych pop of 'Disaster', the attractively churning gloom of 'Mock Turtle' and the megaphone-led loopiness of 'Warwick The Kingmaker' (hard to imagine this on the flipside of 'Trampolene'!).

To be honest, my collection now starts to look a bit holey from this point onwards, partly due to the scarcity of the records, but also due to Cope's turn towards a more heavy rock aesthetic. There's still much to shout about though - for example, 'Rite 2' is another mind-expanding trip through rural Britain with Sly Stone and Tangerine Dream as your guides. The rare 'Floored Genius 3' compiles some truly fascinating unreleased stuff similar in nature and quality to the 'Followers Of Saint Julian' stuff (especially worth hearing are the irresistable 'Propheteering' and the uproarious 'Conspiracist Blues').

'An Audience With Julian Cope' was my introduction to the new, greasier Cope sound and, to be honest, i find a lot of the jamming a bit of a drag. There's still a few bright spots, such as the charming harmonium-led pop song 'Holy Mother Of God', but on the whole, this for me typifies where and why Cope and i have diverged somewhat. 'Rite Now' and 'Rite Bastard' were still worthy additions to the family, but lacked the space and thoughtful approach which made their predecessors so enjoyable.

'Live Japan '91' draws largely from 'Peggy Suicide' and mirrors that album's wide-eyed, thrillingly fresh approach (oh to have been there for the sheer energy of opener 'Hanging Out And Hung Up On The Line'), as well as throwing in a few surprises for good measure (a sweet 'Bill Drummond Said', a wild-as-ever 'Sleeping Gas').

'Christ vs Warhol' is a bootleg of very early solo demoes recorded largely for the 'World Shut Your Mouth' album. Although some tracks vary little from the final versions, it's still a fascinating glimpse into the bruised psyche of a guy finding his feet after the Teardrop split. Plus there's a couple of... interesting unreleased songs in 'She Brings Me Flowers' (bizarrely featuring traces of the 'Charlotte Anne' melody) and the brief 'Jesus Christ And The Mysterons'. Suffice to say, fans of this period should really try to hear it.

The only one of the recent triumverate of albums i have heard is 2007's 'You Gotta Problem With Me'. By all accounts, 'Citizen Cain'd' and 'Dark Orgasm' had their bright spots but were pretty hard going - wouldn't mind hearing them though. 'Problem' shows a lightening of the mood, but doesn't really go for anything resembling subtlety on the likes of 'They Gotta Different Way Of Doing Things' and not-as-dodgy-as-it-sounds 'Can't Get You Out Of My Country'. All very right-on in their way, but the album only truly connects for me when Cope remembers to bring the melody and prettiness, as he does in buckets on the likes of 'Woden' and 'A Child Is Born In Cerrig-Y-Drudion'.

On top of all these albums, there's a bunch of extra-curricular Copeness for the devotees out there. The late 80's video compilation 'Copeulation' (see what they did there?) covers both Teardrops and pre-Skellington solo promos, as well as including a few oddities like the glorious and oddly moving 'Laughing Boy' clip. This would be a full 5 stars if they'd included a few more live tracks alongside the awesome 'Reynard The Fox' and 'Spacehopper'.

I found the 'Modern Antiquarian' video on YouTube recently. Although it's hardly my area of speciality, it's actually very interestingly done and brilliantly presented, not to mention a real treat to see our man in a fluorescent outfit discussing the significance of the megaliths with various terrified old biddies.

Finally there's the books. Frankly, 'Head-On' and 'Repossessed' (the autobiographies covering his early life, the Teardrops and early-to-mid solo career, now selling as a twofer), should come attached with copies of 'Floored Genius' to perhaps present the most perfect introduction to an artist ever. Hilarious, sad, shocking, sweet and above all, completely engrossing (even for an attention span like mine), they might just be my favourite books of all time - God, what a sheltered life i must lead!

There are a few other Cope-related tomes out there, covering both musical and historical interests. The only one i've encountered is the brilliant 'Krautrocksampler', a distinctly opinionated guide to all things German, cosmic and 70's. The usual suspects appear (Neu!, Can, Faust, Amon Duul II etc) alongside some less-celebrated legends (Harmonia, Popol Vuh, Walter Wegmuller), every single one covered with the intelligence and enthusiasm we Copeheads know and love.

Well, that's it. Sorry about the odd gaps here and there, but surely this will keep me/you going for the time being?!