Songs Steve never let me play #1
Tiny Dan critics often said that one of the many reasons for my deep unpopularity on The Steve Show was the despicable music I used to play.
“Melody-free claptrap”, “Fit only for knuckle-dragging dunderheads” “I hate you – hate, hate, hate you Dan”. That’s just a taste of the bile-filled comments I imagine I would have had to endure about the songs I played had I ever been recognised by anyone who cared.
Yet my crap music taste was a myth (mostly spread by Harry-loving types). And I would like to set the record(s) straight…
Ever since I was an even tinier Dan, I dreamt of having the chance to play a song I liked during a brief appearance on a weekly radio show on DAB Digital Radio which I couldn’t always make owing to work commitments.
But selecting one prized tune to showcase on that show was surprisingly difficult. Don’t believe me? Go on then. What song would you play? Quickly. Come on. You don’t know do you? You don’t have the foggiest. You are in a befuddled state, clutching frantically at your body, checking your wallet’s still there, sweating, looking around edgily. You do not have the smallest idea what’s happening.
Such was the predicament facing me every single week without fail (except when I had work and couldn’t go on the show). My tiny face would display the tiniest strain.
But my choice was limited. Steve was a benevolent master, but most intolerant of anything vaguely self-indulgent. That included anything over about four-and-a-half minutes long.
You can kind of see his point. The show was only two hours and we needed some slack to fill with, say, some sideways glances at the week’s news. But it meant that I was never able to play, for example, the first three tracks of Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden album.
I know what you’re thinking – Tiny Dan’s got his finger on the pulse again, waxing lyrical about a 21-year-old record that’s not even being re-released nor nuffin’ – but listen, if Harry can quote the late Bryan Mosley about his mythical forthcoming X Factor appearance, then I can bloomin’ well tell you about this brilliant, brilliant record.
Talk Talk are one of the most fascinating British bands of modern times. I can’t think of another with the same career trajectory. Sure, the move from fashionable popfluff (It’s My Life) into sophisticated songsmithery (Life’s What You Make It) is not unique, but their final leap into avant-garde sonic experimentation is all their own,
In its original vinyl form, Spirit of Eden’s first side is a continuous piece of music lasting almost 23 minutes. It comprises just three songs – ‘The Rainbow’, ‘Eden’ and ‘Desire’. It still sounds like nothing else.
Many acts – from ambient noodlers, to post-rock triers to indie soundscapers – cite it as an influence, but no-one has ever truly captured its sound. That’s in part because of its extraordinary genesis. Talk Talk managed to nick off for a year to put this together, with no executives interfering until the final vast piece, with its staggering array of musicians, its uncompromised sound, was delivered. You can almost imagine horrified EMI suits weeping silently as they tried to think of how to market the latest LP from a band which used to regularly tickle the top 10.
Indeed, it’s no surprise that Talk Talk and EMI went their separate ways after this record, nor that Talk Talk never toured again (difficult to imagine an audience going mental for ‘It’s My Life’ then sitting down quietly to chin-stroke during ‘The Rainbow’).
Listen, I won’t argue with you. Yes, Spirit of Eden is properly pretentious, it’s po-faced and its lyrics impenetrable. But it’s also magical and unique and uplifting. Perhaps best of all, and the reason I love it so much, is that a band which made its name on Top of the Pops went on to make something as outrageously uncommercial as this. It’s completely unpredictable. It is, essentially, the opposite of the X Factor (unless they do indeed get B Mosley on there). You might hate it, but you could never, ever call it bland.
And unless Leona Lewis releases a song consisting of her yelping while banging the inside of a industrial vat with a pipe, or Alexandra Burke puts out a 40-minute B side consisting of a low drone peppered with bursts of radio white noise, I will treasure its unique oddness forever.
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Fantastic, Dan! I listened to the first part you linked, on youtube, and immediately went out and bought the album. If only the Steve Show was a 3 or 4 hours longer, you could’ve put more great stuff like this one. Looking forward to more of your recommendations.
Wow – a convert! Nice one, NBrow, I hope the record lives up to your expectations. It’s a strange one – I always liked it, but it was only about 12 years later that I suddenly thought: ‘Crikey. That’s amazing.’
Finally, they get the record in for me. Brilliant! I’ve been listening to it over and over for a few hours, and I keep picking up new things.
Tiny Tiny Dan, this entry makes me think you should check out the most recent Flaming Lips if you have not. It’s a similar sort of thing where a band who has had a hit or two makes an unmarketable album, in this case a noisy freakout double album. It’s brilliant and nothing like The Flaming Lips of recent.