Tag Archives: The Stone Roses

Rocks In The Attic #822: The La’s – ‘The La’s’ (1990)

RITA#822I might not have much to say about this record, except for my unbridled love for it and everything it stands for.

Released at the height of Manchester’s renaissance as the centre of the music word, the La’s 1990 debut reminded everybody that Manchester’s time in the sun owed a lot to Liverpool. The jangling guitars may have a debt to pay to the Smiths, but the songwriting felt like a natural extension of where Lennon and McCartney – and George Harrison for that matter – left off twenty years earlier. Were these harmonies just floating around Merseyside all that time, waiting for a voice?

I first came aware of them in the early ‘90s, when I heard There She Goes in the Mike Myers film, So I Married An Axe Murderer. While the soundtrack does eventually feature the La’s original version, it’s a watered-down cover by the permanently watered-down Boo Radleys that takes centre-stage. At the time I was stocking shelves at my local Tesco, and somehow got onto the subject of the song with our pretentious assistant store manager, a middle-aged, middle-class prat by the name of Lawrence.

RITA#822aI can’t remember why we were talking about it, but Lawrence wouldn’t believe that There She Goes was a song by a current, contemporary band. He was adamant that it was by a ‘60s band. Weird, right? Pre-internet, there was no way to convince him otherwise, and so he went uncorrected. The really patronising thing was that, as a way to end the argument with the sixteen year-old me, he enlisted the final word from the store’s “expert” on pop music – roll up Barbara off checkouts – who agreed with him (out of sycophancy, more than anything approaching knowledge). That’s Oldham mentality, right there. Pure, unchecked ignorance.  Fuck off, Barbara!

Stubborn morons aside, I think one of the reasons I love this album so much is that it flies under the radar. It should be a hit with those casual music fans from the North West who idolise the first Stone Roses record and the first Oasis record. But for the most part, the La’s debut tends to exist without that level of Ben Sherman fandom. Whether this is due to the record only having one clear pop single (There She Goes), or whether it’s due to the rest of the album’s sometimes muddy production, remains unknown.

I’m just happy that these anorak-wearing, lager-drinking louts don’t spoil the La’s like they have the Roses and Oasis. I was lucky enough to see the La’s play the majority of this, their only studio album, at Glastonbury 2005. The performance was remarkably undersubscribed, considering how momentous the occasion was: just a couple of thousand people watching them on the Other Stage as the sun set. Beautiful.

Hit: There She Goes

Hidden Gem: Every other song on the record!

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Rocks In The Attic #394: Happy Mondays – ‘Pills ‘n’ Thrills And Bellyaches’ (1990)

RITA#394I think I might be allergic to music that comes from Manchester. I’ve never hid my dislike of Oasis, but I also never liked the wave of bands that came before them. Only now, half way around the world and twenty five years later can I finally start to appreciate bands like the Smiths, the Stone Roses and these fellas, the Happy Monday.

I don’t think it’s the music by these bands that turned me off them. Instead it was the type of people who liked these bands that alienated me. They’re all popular bands, and just like with any popular bands, there’ll be an element of non-music fans following them. Or sheep, you could say.

In the case of the ‘Madchester’ years, those non-music fans represented the distasteful element in Manchester. They still do. Lads in Ben Sherman shirts, roaming the city centre; or retards walking around in cagoules in the middle of summer. Are you going on a hiking trip? No? Just going to the football? Hmm.

I once passed Tony Wilson doing his shopping in the Sainsburys at the end of Mancunian Way, heading towards Salford. He was leaning over the trolley he was pushing slowly down the aisle, and I remember he was shopping from a list. I was too nervous to say hello, and I’ll never get the chance now, but what I would say to him – if I had the balls, which I know I don’t – was that I thought he was wrong about the Happy Mondays.

In 24 Hour Party People, Wilson refers to Shaun Ryder as a genius. I just can’t stomach that. I’ll accept that Ryder might have been the spokesman for that generation – the Ecstasy generation – in the UK, but the word ‘genius’ does not apply. ‘Lucky fool’ is more apt.

Hit: Step On

Hidden Gem: Dennis And Lois

Rocks In The Attic #277: The Bluetones – ‘Return To The Last Chance Saloon’ (1998)

RITA#277The Bluetones are, for me, the epitome of sub-par, late ‘90s Indie / Britpop. I don’t know what I dislike more – Mark Morriss’ overly adenoidal vocals, or their propensity to arpeggiate chord progressions with jangly guitars, as if the Smiths and the Stone Roses invented music and left no other choice. Needless to say, I stayed far away from their anorak-wearing warblings of their first album of 1996.

It was only due to laziness – and the fact that I’d just seen Live play live on the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury on a sunny Friday afternoon in 2000 – that I caught their set. I remember a lot of Frisbees flying around – heavy blue-plastic ones that looked like they hurt when they hit the occasional festival goer in the bonce – and beach balls flying around in the crowd at the front of the stage.

I also remember the band playing Solomon Bites The Worm, having never heard the song before, and I’m a sucker for a decent guitar riff. I also like lyrics that follow a set pattern – in this case, the days of the week. The other surprise of their set was a cover of the Minder TV theme, I Could Be So Good For You, complete with fumbled piano parts.

I bought this album on my return to Manchester, on white vinyl, with a nice saloon door pop-out on the inner gatefold. Aside from Solomon Bites The Worm and the infectious If, the rest of the material doesn’t really do anything for me. I struggle to make my way through its mostly boring 62 minutes. Like a lot of albums from the late ‘90s, it’d be much better if it was half as long.

Hit: If

Hidden Gem: Tone Blooze