Mar 11


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#659, 2nd February 1991

“Faceless”. I don’t know who first used this particular epithet against dance music’s pop takeover, but the concept stuck. Facelessness became a stick used to beat the new music with – by suddenly-old DJs, faux-concerned critics, frustrated executives and not a few confused former pop fans. The idea was that club music didn’t create stars, marketable individuals, long-term careers and audience focus points – in the longer term these claims were proved wrong but in the wide-eyed, loose-limbed climate of the early 90s they seemed credible. In fact they didn’t go far enough – what the dance singles filling the charts were doing was turning the existing purpose of a ‘single’ on its head. Singles had long been a promotional medium – an advert for something, be it an album, a tour, a film or TV show, a comedian’s career. Dance tracks, though, weren’t announcing anything – they were instead the echoes of events which had already happened. A rave record’s moment of currency was when it spread through DJ sets, not when it entered the charts. This had been, for a long time, the logic of the holiday hit, “Y Viva Espana” et al – but now extended to encompass an entire subculture. No wonder the old guard were horrified.

This meant that the public face of rave music – on TV music shows, for instance – was enormously variable. Sometimes the acts genuinely didn’t seem bothered, sometimes they were woefully amateurish… and sometimes they seized the opportunity, redefined “facelessness” as a blank pop canvas and worked to bring a bit of spectacle into the charts. Altern 8, with their boiler suits and face masks; The Orb, playing cosmic chess on Top Of The Pops. And before them, the KLF.

Bill Drummond had been creating pop events for more than a decade – it was his signature tactic as a manager, it had carried successfully over into the early, sample-driven KLF days and it had taken him to the top of the charts already. He’d been a student during glam rock, managed at the start of the video era – he knew how important concept and imagery were to pop. And I think his insight with the KLF at their (and his) mainstream zenith was something like this: if rave music is always the aftermath of a party that’s already happened, the ideal pop incarnation of rave music needs to be the aftermath of an entirely imaginary party, the greatest party that ever could happen.

So the Stadium House trilogy – the trio of hits which includes “3AM Eternal” – is all billed as “live” from some imaginary geographies (Trancentral, the Lost Continent… though “SSL”, the cryptic location of “3AM”, is rather prosaically a mixing desk). The group’s work is full of jumbled references to their own private mythology, which almost certainly was never even as barely coherent as the songs made out. But the robes and horns and cars looked great, the “ancients of Mu Mu” chants sounded great – the group dressed and acted like nobody else around. In a way it was pure gimmick, just the Timelords again on an even bigger scale: but they gave the impression of enough going on in the background for deep cult appeal, and there was enough happening in the hits to cross over completely. Because, after all, none of it would have worked if the Stadium House material wasn’t instant pop, thrilling and energising even if you never paid attention to anything else the KLF did.

“3AM Eternal” is the rushiest, most exciting, most modern-sounding Number One since Adamski – but it’s also the weakest of the Stadium House hits for me. “What Time Is Love?” has even bigger hooks; “Last Train To Trancentral” is even more euphoric. What “3AM” does have is the amazing, machine-gun fire intro, and Wanda Dee floating pure and serene over the crowd noises and crunching breakbeats, and an oddly wistful, high synth line picking its way through the bombast and into your brain. And it has Ricardo Da Force, not the first or last dodgy rapper we’ll encounter in the early 90s, spouting amiable nonsense on roughly a Turbo B level. The whole thing is similar to “The Power”, in fact, but everything seems faster, more flamboyant, more baffling and more of an event. It’s a shot of abstracted pop thrill-power and still an enormously welcome one.



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  1. 1
    Kat but logged out innit on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Hooray! “What Time Is Love?” is my favourite of the three, but all are solid 9s from me.

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    Chelovek na lune on 16 Mar 2011 #

    …and of course the machine-gun fire in the intro wasn’t played on the radio at the time, because of the BBC’s approach to the Gulf War…

    And Kylie Said to Jason, you’ve got it, you’ve got it… – their only 1989 single that wasn’t rerecorded as stadium house. Partly, I spose because Jason’s time was well up. But as a bit of New Order/Kon Kan-ish pop….was alright.

    They got annoying quickly, with all the stunts, the money-burning, the dead sheep, but for a brief moment their music was a blast.

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    Tom on 16 Mar 2011 #

    I love Bill Drummond’s voice on KSTJ – the tune is just OK though but his monologue makes it a favourite.

    Worst KLF side project: Disco 2000!

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    Mark G on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Ah, the money “shot”…

    As i have said elsewhere…

    When Bill and Jimmy were doing their ‘anti-art’ thing, various of their ‘sculptures’ were wads of money, in some form or other. On returning one load, which was one thousand pounds nailed to a board, they had to invoke their insurance to pay for the reprinting of the cash.


    If you take a million quid out of the bank, and prearrange the
    1) destruction of same
    2) an independant witness/representative from the bank, to show no-one ‘making off with less than unrecognisably charred banknotes..’
    3) Documentary evidence of destruction..
    Then the money can be replaced simply by reprinting it.

    Seems too obvious, there must be a lot of people in on it that are sworn to secrecy…

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    lonepilgrim on 16 Mar 2011 #

    perhaps because they deleted their recordings, this still sounds fresh, immediate and compelling – ‘last train to transcentral’ is even more of a rush.
    This sounds like the 90s

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    wichita lineman on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Intriguing, Chelovek, that you think “they got annoying quickly”. I’d always found the idea of the KLF quite fascinating (the ltd eds, the pronouncements, the subversion, the independence, and latterly the dead sheep AT A BPI PARTY!); it wasn’t til this point that I loved them. Agreed, Last Train To Trancentral is “even more euphoric”, but 3AME has those rich, melancholic, loosely eastern chords. It stands up very well, and it doesn’t half make Innuendo sound flat and flabby – the most contrasting Popular juxtaposition since Reet Petite/Jack Your Body.

    I’m nabbing someone else’s idea here, but there are very few answers to “who’s your favourite group” which are completely satisfying. Pet Shop Boys? Long tail. Beach Boys? Too many assholes. The KLF? Oh, good shout.

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    lex on 16 Mar 2011 #

    “Last Train To Trancentral” was always my favourite KLF song because it’s so ridiculously banging – it’s the most ravey by far. (Though for ages I was never quite sure which was which, it always felt like any given constituent part of one could fit neatly into the others) (in the best possible way! like a megamix or something). Second favourite “Justified & Ancient”! Those two are so amazing that I end up never really thinking about “What Time Is Love?” and “3am Eternal”. Obv they’re both great though, 8/10 seems right.

    At the time I had no idea of the conceptual context whatsoever, but the first style of music I got into, to the extent of buying compilations of cassette, was early ’90s rave, specifically this one – it fit pretty much seamlessly into the other tracks there, like you’d never have been able to tell just from the music that it was meant to be different in any way.

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    flahr on 16 Mar 2011 #

    There is an NME article that succinctly sums their later doings, reproduced at http://www.klf.de/home/?p=48146 . But ignore that, because this song is pretty great (thought “Last Train to Trancentral” is much better – will look forward to Lena hearing it). I agree that Da Force’s nonsense is a high point (“all point to the fact that TIME IS ETERNAL!”). 8 indeed.

    Smart marketing from the KLF: whenever I see a clock at 3am the hook from this drifts into my head. Sometimes it happens at 3pm too.

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    Simon on 16 Mar 2011 #

    The best story about Ricardo da Force is round about the end of the 90s, at a time when svengalis from Tom Watkins downwards were seemingly all working on animated pop stars who were supposedly the future – not animated in the Gorillaz sense, as in characters that entirely lived in this new cyberspace thing with no backstory or awareness of who was behind it – he was according to a number of music news outlets set to provide the voice of an animated robot that would perform with a boy/girl pop band called Sonic Boom. The robot, of course, would be the all-bases-covered merchandise angle.

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    lex on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Actually relistening it’s the Ricardo da Force bit that lets “3am Eternal” down, not because it’s overly dodgy per se but it’s just a bit boring and the track loses its energy somewhat.

    OTOH “Last Train” just keeps on giving, even in the last 30 seconds with the even bigger-sounding “MUU-MUU! MUU-MUU!” chant.

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    Tom on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Ha on that album I think it’s poor old Right Said Fred who stick out like the sore thumb.

    You honestly could not go wrong making a chart dance compilation in the early 90s.

    I don’t think that musically the KLF were trying to do anything other than make amazingly banging pop-rave, it’s just the way they went about constructing an identity that was a bit different (though in some ways similar to what some US techno bods did)

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    MikeMCSG on 16 Mar 2011 #

    This is the first number one since finding Popular (circa Uptown Girl) that I’ve had to revisit to remember how it went (though I remember the group and their stunts well enough).

    That done, I can see why it hasn’t stuck ; I just don’t understand this music or its appeal. I guess some people get left behind when tastes move on. In chart terms the 90s were a constant disappointment to me with the diminishing number of records I liked nearly always underachieving. Cue violins…

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    lex on 16 Mar 2011 #

    “compilations of cassette” wtf am I even trying to say there.

    Yeah I hated Right Said Fred even at the time, just the worst. It was 2 Unlimited who became my first ever favourite group though!

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    punctum on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Looking back over Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty’s relatively eventless last nineteen years, with their limited edition folios of elephant dung and hardcore porn, their Boys’ Own books of psychogeographic capers (if only one of those had been a Boyzone book!), their ribbing of Turner Prizewinners, their dim poetry readings in obscure East End churches and the unutterable foolishness of No Music Day, can anyone seriously argue that the KLF worked so much better as uncommon pop stars than as routine fringe art semi-jesters? That, surely, was the thrill of the sextet of singles which made the KLF Britain’s best-selling singles act of the early nineties; that art tactics and stratagems, combined with an unerring and exceptionally deep love of pop and the magic it can produce, or be persuaded to generate, could work squarely in the centre of the marketplace and both excite and prosper. In truth that career’s deliberately limited lifespan also worked in its favour; although the catalogue is still freely available on import CD, or wherever you know to look for it, its deletion in early 1992 cemented the concept of a pop dream doomed never to come to fruition.

    It would take very acute persuasion to wean myself off the notion that these six singles – the Stadium House quintet of “What Time Is Love?,” “3 A.M. Eternal,” “Last Train To Transcentral,” “Justified And Ancient” and “America: What Time Is Love?” plus the JAMMs’ “It’s Grim Up North,” which latter might be the masterpiece of the lot – together may comprise the greatest and most breathtaking uninterrupted sequence of singles anywhere in pop; ingenious and superficial, heartfelt and cynical, bright and apocalpytic, hopeless yet hopeful. Some would argue that it constituted the most imaginative use of a very limited template, though you could say as much for the Stones, or the Pet Shop Boys, or the Specials, or anyone. All made the top ten; all disturbed, provoked and entertained (in the biological sense of “entertaining hosts”); some enhanced already strong charts, while others put their charts to shame. Few pop single sequences narrow with such randy ruthlessness the gap between process and product without collapsing through the inverted commas trapdoor. Simultaneously the KLF urged us to take it and pleaded with us not to take any of it.

    In addition, they were atmospheric masters; anyone familiar with regular overnight National Express coach journeys will instantly smell the sodden cigarette packets in the lay-bys of the M62, the wan light dimly and greyly rising over ruined cities, which characterise “It’s Grim Up North.” Voiced on the original issue by Pete Wylie, Drummond solemnly intones the litany of place names as though reciting a register of the war dead through banging rain and coldly brutalist post-House beats – it is a masterpiece worthy to stand alongside Trans-Europe Express, and yet has the courage to end its protest with hope; the storm drowned out by “Jerusalem” (and succeeded by Hughes’ Crow), the words “THE NORTH WILL RISE AGAIN” materialising through the showers in the video. They could depict hopelessness with equal ease and profundity; the fifteen-year-old “America No More” – the B-side of “America: What Time Is Love?” – still sounds like the last piece of music on Earth.

    But they could also be gloriously absurdist; a bemused Tammy Wynette sings of ice cream vans on “Justified And Ancient” and (had it not been for national tragedy elsewhere) one of the greatest Christmas number ones – crucially, unlike subsequent celebrity guest appearances on novelty dance records, the KLF never sound or seem as though they are sending her up.

    That sextet perhaps ought to be extended to a septet, since in 1991 two different versions of “3 A.M. Eternal” – the only one of the sequence to make number one – were released. Both “What Time Is Love?” and “3 A.M. Eternal” – tracks umbilically linked, as their titles suggest – had been floating around for over two years in various adaptations of their original “Pure Trance” format until the KLF decided to turn them into pop. The opening “Radio Freedom” announcement, followed by a militia of machine guns, indicated their real intent before launching into the most sublime of post-House dance records – it is worth noting that its structure almost exactly follows that of “The Power” with its rap verse, two-line female chorus, pause for air and then thundering back into the main riff. The cover of the single, with its blurred and crooked shot of a car circling Parliament Square at the dead of night, signifies early morning post-clubbing disorientation. The words are utterly functional – like all the others, a promotional precis for the KLF – since the record’s brilliance lies in its process, its total sound/rhythm continuum, filtered through nearly all of pops (the ghosts of Rubettes members and P P Arnold who drift through the track in a “we told you so” sense). Though they failed to divert into carpet or tinned peach manufacture, the KLF made a far more convincing job of coming across as an ironic organisation than B.E.F. or Rhythm Of Life ever managed.

    Certainly, in a 1991 procession of number ones which until now was threatening to turn into another 1975, “3 A.M. Eternal” represented an eruption of nowness, a sudden jolt back into the present. But the KLF couldn’t resist undermining their own triumph – and would we cherish them quite so dearly if they could? – and promptly re-recorded the song with the aid of avant-speed-thrash stalwarts Extreme Noise Terror, retaining “This is Radio Freedom” and the machine guns but then flushing itself into 200 mph feedback growls and screams, Drummond barely able to keep up with his own lyrics. This latter was proposed for the Christmas edition of TOTP, but turned down (hence their otherwise baffling absence from that programme), and a couple of months later resurfaced as the basis for the famous Brit Awards performance, with the dead sheep in the hotel lobby, the kilts, cigars and machine guns – there was some talk of hurtling buckets of blood over the audience, but event organiser Jonathan King just about managed to talk them out of that (though secretly grinning at the prospect, he wasn’t grinning at the prospect of subsequent multiple lawsuits). The Extreme Noise Terror “3 A.M. Eternal” was released as a limited edition one-sided mail-order-only seven-inch single; reputedly it sold out almost immediately, although discreet periodic repressings still see consignments of the single turning up in second-hand shops.

    No doubt this represented the KLF’s turning point; thereafter came the diversions into art, including the alleged burning of a million quid – though Drummond and Cauty’s relative inactivity suggests that they had a few more put by – but, separated from pop, did these amount to much more than standard wind-up post-mod art gestures? What if I argued that Rachel Whiteread’s House was an intensely personal and painfully emotional piece of art whose nature – much as The Church Of Me – defies “explaining” or “justifying” (in other words, it has to be felt) and that the KLF’s Turner Prize antics, which we witnessed personally, since the Tate Gallery (now Tate Britain) was situated just around the corner from where we lived at the time, divorced from its double-bluff context, came across in practice as just another routine, philistine protest against modern art? As it turned out, there was no point in their attempting to return to pop – apart from the Magnificent Seven/Gulf War rejig they contributed to the Help! album, the “Fuck The Millennium” attempted Barbican mass punch-up (again we were there, again it didn’t come off) and single which very much constituted shutting the stable doors long after the horse had bolted (it peeked curiously into the Top 30 for a week and then ducked out again) and Jimmy Cauty’s admittedly great (and commercially unreleased) tribute to roadie Gimpo as heard at Iain Sinclair’s London Orbital evening (again, at the Barbican), they have remained silent. But in terms of the pop of 1990-2, their conceptual faultline was faultless. “Ladies and gentlemen,” announces the late Scott Piering at the end of “3 A.M. Eternal” to a non-existent crowd, “the KLF have now left the building.” But they left it in a different state.

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    tonya on 16 Mar 2011 #

    #2 I’ve been wondering whether deleting the machine gun sounds really was at the BBC request, or whether Drummond noticed the PR other bands were getting from having to change their names, lyrics, whatever and decided to join in the fun.

    #7 agree re constituent parts/megamix, I love how the sounds from the records repeat themselves. Some artists you hear the same vocal tics in record after record, with the KLF you hear sheep or sonar pings or men chanting.

  16. 16
    Tom on 16 Mar 2011 #

    I still adore “Last Train To Trancentral” of course (my 1999 write-up of it, linked in the related articles sidebar, is relatively non-embarassing!)

    But I think I’m in the “It’s Grim Up North” camp now when it comes to favourite KLF things.

    xpost Punctum explains why, very well indeed.

  17. 17
    Chelovek na lune on 16 Mar 2011 #

    With “What Time Is Love”, they certainly hit the nail on the head on the repackaging/remixing thing – if anything “What Time Is Love (America?)” might be my favourite of the three different releases of them. In full agreement with those praising the incessently chugging undertoe of “Last Train…”

    And also in agreement that “It’s Grim Up North” is the finest of the lot.

    #14 is an ultra-exceptional Punctum post IMHO

    #15 given that “Boom Bang-A-Bang” and even “Walk Like An Egyptian” were banned, I don’t think the BBC needed much encouraging! Bomb The Bass became Tim Simenon, and Massive lost their Attack. (Still, “Rock The Casbah”, on rerelease at the time, went fully uncensored, “drop your bombs around the minarets” evidently being OK for sensitive ears)

    And at (exactly) the same time – the week the war broke out – (and presumably for the same reason) GLR had its (fantastic, IMPERIAL) Sunday schedule disemboweled. No more Chris Morris, as he clearly couldn’t be trusted (“If you see the GLR Prize Policeman walking round London, you should approach him with an imitation pistol, aim it at himn and say “give us the ackers, or I’ll blow off your knackers. You can recognize him as he is a tall man with dark hair, dressed in a police uniform”) , and no more intelligent chat from Annie Nightingale and whoever might call her. That was London local radio at its finest. Finest ever, possibly. (Gary Crowley and David Rodigan “playing bloody good music” survived the change, though, so all was not lost)

  18. 18
    Rory on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Re “Britain’s best-selling singles act of the early nineties” – time to replace Madge in the header?

    “America” was my favourite, but this was great too.

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    MikeMCSG on 16 Mar 2011 #

    #16 Which reminds me that I did buy “IGUN”; I guess actually living there gave me a way into that one !

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    wichita lineman on 16 Mar 2011 #

    “You honestly could not go wrong making a chart dance compilation in the early 90s.”

    At least, until M People showed up with their “There’s got to be more to life than Cola Boy” schtick. Boooooring!

    Always a couple of Acid Jazzers fouling things up for me, as well. But the Deep Heat comps are something I really regret flogging.

  21. 21
    Susan on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Their mythology really wasn’t private–all the Mumu stuff etc. was referencing Discordianism, an actual…well, not really a religion or a mythology in any normal sense, but anyway, if you’re interested there’s a pretty good wikipedia article on it.

    I’m surprised that nobody’s mentioned The Manual: How to Have a Number One the Easy Way yet: “Other than achieving a Number One hit single we offer you nothing else. There will be no endless wealth. Fame will flicker and fade and sex will still be a problem. What was once yours for a few days will now enter the public domain.”

  22. 22
    LondonLee on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Acid Jazz? I didn’t mind a bit of Galliano and Brand New Heavies myself but I can understand how, in the context of a record like this, they could seem like DadRockers you could dance to (DadFunkers?)

    I think I’d have to give this a 10. Every time I reckon it might actually be an 8 or 9 I remember what a glorious rush is it and have to mark it up just for the feeling it gives you (and gave me, wonderfully so, in clubs at the time).

  23. 23
    lex on 16 Mar 2011 #

    WTF is wrong with acid jazz? I loved everything I heard, Brand New Heavies’ “Dream On Dreamer” and “Dream Come True” are bona fide classics. NO HATING! Galliano’s “Long Time Gone” was great too, and M People would’ve been a pretty unimpeachable band at their peak had it not been for Heather Small’s strained vocals.

    BRB gonna go dig all of this out again!

  24. 24
    Erithian on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Going on 29, never a clubber, never much of a fan of “dance” music or disco before it, I knew this wasn’t for me, not pitched at the likes of me and not something I’d enjoy. Except for the inconvenient fact that it was a total, total rush – life-enhancing, witty, funny, inhabiting its own world which sounded a great one to be in, and more hooks than an anglers’ convention. Thoroughly enjoyed it.

    It was all part of their game, the robes, the clues to the mythology which, as Tom indicates, they were probably making up as they went along. I’ve just looked at the video for “Justified and Ancient” and the comments box is referring to the Masons, the Illuminati, and various other obscure bodies they were no doubt having fun with. And the other notable thing about that video – the scrolling details of Tammy Wynette’s brilliant career. Exactly the kind of thing you see in the star guest slot on The X Factor nearly 20 years later. Another part of the modern world slots into place!

    (The YouTube comments box for 3AM also loves the brick-sized mobile phone…)

  25. 25
    wichita lineman on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Re 23: Retrograde and smug was how I saw it, Lex, but if I’d been 16 instead of 26 maybe I’d have loved it. It felt like an extension of the anti-house rare groove scene; there was a political element to my dislike.

    The Brand New Heavies played three hour sets. This seemed to me the antithesis of the KLF’s three minutes-and-out hits. Plus it had the Weller seal of approval (yes Lee, dadfunk is about right). PLUS it gave us Jamiroquai. Couldn’t see the point when there was SO MUCH more exciting stuff going on. Soz.

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    Cumbrian on 16 Mar 2011 #

    An awful lot to agree with that’s already been said.

    As Tom has said, I think this to be the weakest of the Stadium House Trilogy (and even weakest of the sextet/septet to which Punctum refers) but that doesn’t mean it is bad by any stretch of the imagination. Personally, I preferred What Time Is Love? which has the same Mu Mu chant over the outro as well as the boing-boing noises in the chorus that would have me jumping around my bedroom like the proverbial Mexican bean. 3AME, to my pre-adolescent self, just didn’t have the same level of urgency – and I still find that lacking to be honest. It’s still pretty damn fine though. Probably a 7 or an 8 from me. WTIL? would have been a 9. L3T would have been an 8 or a 9 I suspect.

    I was reading a bit about The Black Room earlier actually – seeing this record was coming up and having some time to kill in my lunch hour. It sounds pretty intriguing to me – could have been an absolute killer to their career though, following up euphoric stadium house with industrial techno metal in collaboration with Extreme Noise Terror. It might have been best that they called it quits.

    I’d never thought about the K Foundation Burn A Million Quid in the light that MarkG @4 has done though. Makes me wonder…

  27. 27
    Tom on 16 Mar 2011 #

    #26 I was reading about the Black Room too, thinking it sounded a bit like Psalm 69! IIRC Bill Drummond keeps – or kept – claiming he would make a metal record, the second JAMMs album was meant to be metal and I’m sure there was meant to be a black metal album coming out of his Finnish activities.

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    LondonLee on 16 Mar 2011 #

    Re 25: “but if I’d been 16 instead of 26 maybe I’d have loved it”

    The other way around surely? Acid Jazz and Rare Groove appealed to me because, at the advanced age of 28 in 1990, I had a hard time getting with this new-fangled turn dance music was taking (with exceptions of course, there was still lots to love)

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    Paytesy on 16 Mar 2011 #

    The KLF were possibly the last act to truly understand the possibilities of a TOTP performance from the Timelords appearances (with Gary G …) right through to Tammy W (interesting that the Extreme Noise Terror Brits antics were planned for Xmas TOTP 1991 …) they knew how to make an impression – and get the kids talking in the playground on the Friday morning after.


    I’m going to swim against the tide here and nail my colours to the 3am mast. I LOVE it. Yes, it’s got ridiclous rapping on it but when that breakbeat kicks in … My favourite single from one of my favourite bands – a 10

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    lex on 16 Mar 2011 #

    #25 – I’m not really aware of the politics at work, but acid jazz types seemed to me a logical extension of what eg Soul II Soul had been doing (Jazzie B, the clue was in the name), and of course they paved the way for broken beat, two-step to an extent, UK funky…the jazz elements of the UK underground have been written out of its story to an extent (mostly thanks to hardcore cuntinuum types obsessed by how ~dark~ music had to be), but it’s always been there. Is this another manifestation of the suspicion of smoothness/classiness that I often see around here?

    Point taken about Jamiroquai but I think if we’re going to write off urban genres based on the lame #whitepeople who try to do them, there wouldn’t be much left.

    Anyway I just went back to the Brand New Heavies’ singles and fuckinell “Dream On Dreamer” is still an amazing tune – N’dea Davenport’s voice was so silky, the “over, over, over and over” section is fantastic and then that amazing SAX SOLO!!!

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