Baggy Anthems for Heaton Park

Hi folks,


A brief tangent into Madchester territory for you here as myself and some esteemed friends just got back from the Stone Roses' reunion tour in Lyon, where, amongst other thrills and spills, they played their first album in its entirety for the FIRST TIME EVER. Wooo! Well worth the trip down South, plus we got to enjoy some quality offal in France's gastronomic capital and even found a decent club (Le Citron in Vieux Lyon, smoky but plays some great music). 


Anyway, one of the various topics of discussion that came up whilst we were ensconced in the city's bars preparing for the gig was what our favourite tunes were from the original Madchester era, or the 'Baggy' period for those of you who don't want to be too regionally specific. Many different suggestions were made so I've decided to compile a list of my own below, complete with some funky video links. If you're preparing for Heaton Park this weekend or just in the mood for a bit of a shoulder shuffle then give this lot a whirl and it should set you on your way.

The Stone Roses - Elephant Stone (October 1988)

As good a starting point as any, this was the Roses' third single released way back in late '88 when very few knew who they were - that would all change a few months later when the tracks from their début album began to surface, prompting a wave of national adoration that has yet to fully subside. 'Elephant Stone' eventually followed 'Fools Gold' into the UK top ten in 1990 when it was re-released alongside 'Made of Stone' and 'She bangs the drums' during the band's commercial peak - from the very first note it's one big euphoric rush of manic percussion, wah-wah pedals and Ian Brown's divine exaltations as they 'burst into heaven' to devastating effect. This is the Roses at their most forthright, equalled only be 'Begging You' several years later - the trippier likes of 'I am the Resurrection' and 'Waterfall' tend to bag more plaudits but for me this is the one (no pun intended) that made you sit up and take notice that something truly magical was about to happen. 

A Guy called Gerald - Voodoo Ray (April 1989)

Not a guitar track admittedly but one that deserves its place in any baggy best-of list, not least for the Manchester connection - Gerald was an original member of Manc Acid House pioneers 808 State who cut loose to record this groundbreaking choon which surfaced sometime in 1988 but didn't chart until the following year six months before his former bandmates broke big with 'Pacific State' the same week that 'Fools Gold' and 'Hallelujah' reached the top 40. I could have chucked that one in here too but 'Voodoo Ray' just edges it because of the wide-mouthed euphoria embodied in the vocals and the hypnotic house crescendo bubbling slowly to the surface. This tune sums up everything that was great about the late 80s Hacienda scene which influenced pretty much every other band on this list - Shaun Ryder himself recognises it as a key influence in this cogent interview and it's deservedly listed high up any list of the best electronic records ever. 

Inspiral Carpets - Joe (May 1989)

A trip to Oldham this time for the breakthrough hit from the Inspiral Carpets, a band generally lumped in with the Roses and the Mondays but one with less of a recognised link with electronic music - these guys were more of a straight-up retro 60s proposal but one with a stellar rhythm section and a genuine virtuoso in the shape of organist Clint Boon, leaving them the option of playing fast as fuck when they felt like it. 'Joe' is the best example of them at full tilt, a manic dancefloor anthem in homage to a tramp they knew back home (who may also appear in the video, I'm not sure). Their lyrical themes were always quite kitchen sink back in the day which was kinda touching, they always seemed to be a little more grounded in reality than their peers without every getting weighty about it. They were also one of the only bands that emerged from the Madchester period who managed to crank out more than one or two decent albums, releasing four absolute corkers between 1990 and 1994 before finally calling it a day. Of all the bands on this list that I've not yet seen live, the Inspirals are the ones I'd do anything to see on stage - I have a playlist consisting of nothing but dream setlists of their material on my I-Phone which is perhaps a little nerdy but if nothing else it's testament to the potency of their material all these years later.

Happy Mondays - Wrote for Luck (September 1989)

The Mondays were undoubtedly the genre's best singles band - the Roses and Primal Scream will always be better remembered for the albums they released during Baggy's heyday but, and this is no disrespect to 'Bummed' or 'Pills 'n' Thrills', the Mondays were always a more devastating prospect in single format. Their flawless run began in May 1989 with 'Lazyitis' before 'WFL' landed four months later to be followed by 'Hallelujah', 'Step On', 'Kinky Afro' and 'Loose Fit', all of which could easily have made this list in their own right. I've picked 'WFL' (as it was known after Erasure's Vince Clarke remixed the original album version of the song) because it embodies everything I love about the Mondays - effortlessly danceable, lyrically devious ('you used to speak the truth but now you're clevurrrr') and always one step away from total collapse but somehow managing to keep it together. There's also the video which was filmed in Manchester's The Ritz nightclub the best part of a decade before I set foot in it and experienced its bouncy dancefloor for the first time. This is the ideal soundtrack to bopping around off your face in such environs from a band who always seemed a lot brighter than they let on in interviews.

Candy Flip - Strawberry Fields Forever (March 1990)

A bit of a curveball for you here, but one that I think merits its place all the same. Candy Flip (whose name is apparently a reference to taking Ecstasy and LSD at the same time!) were two unknowns who capitalised on Baggy's penchant for 60s revivalism by injecting this Beatles' classic with tripped out vocals and a bone dry drumbeat reminiscent of Fresh Four's reworking of 'Wishing on a star' the previous year. By early 1990 the charts had been practically taken over by dance crossover tracks as well as the first wave of Baggy breakthrough hits and 'Strawberry Fields Forever' landed on the top 40 at the same time as Primal Scream's 'Loaded' only to chart several spots higher. Time hasn't been as kind to it as the Scream's signature tune but this still puts a smile on my face, not least for the period fashion on show in the promo clip - stripy hoodies, ethnic necklaces, golden earrings and baggy blue jeans all present and correct, plus a decent bit of gurning from the singer late on. Candy Flip brought out two fairly decent follow-ups ('Space' and 'Redhills Road' if you want to look them up) but failed to garner any subsequent success and they've since retreated into obscurity but these four gorgeous minutes are as good a legacy as they could have left.

The Farm - Stepping Stone (May 1990)

Another 60s cover for you and another familiar rhythm sample - sounds distinctly like Snap's 'The Power' to me. But whatever the ingredients were, The Farm managed to craft something distinct out of them in the shape of this oft-overlooked Baggy classic from the glorious summer of 1990. Merseyside intruders into the Manchester-dominated music scene of the era, The Farm had spent several years toiling away under the moniker Soul of Socialism in the Red Wedge scene of 80s Liverpool before scoring a breakthrough hit with this single under the watchful eye of their manager Suggs (yes, he of Madness fame). 'Stepping Stone' missed the top 40 when it was released in May 1990 but by the end of the year they'd hit the top ten twice with 'Groovy Train' and 'All Together Now' and would notch a #1 album the following year as Baggy's commercial popularity peaked. John Peel was a big fan (that's Scouse solidarity for you) and the band were genuine competitors to the Roses and the Mondays in their prime but, like many of their peers, fell foul of the changing times and fell into obscurity as the 90s advanced - they still exist though and form the backbone of the 'Justice Tonight' ensemble that are supporting the Roses on their current tour so music has yet to totally forget them. You can rely on FA Cup runs for years to come to be soundtracked by 'All Together Now' but for me this is their finest moment and one that should be an integral part of any Baggy playlist.

The Charlatans - The only one I know (June 1990)

Summer of 1990 again - not hard to see why people get nostalgic for those times with the number of stunning singles queuing up to blow your mind. As an illustration for this point (and not because I can't find the original video anywhere online), I've embedded a link to the ITV Chart Show's Indie Chart of the era which features the Charlies at #1 back when they were just about to break big. 'The only one I know' is another organ-led dancefloor anthem, one that still prompts frenzied reactions these days - the Charlatans arrived bang on time to take advantage of the Baggy boom but were perhaps unique in their ability to adapt to changing times once the bubble had burst, morphing into looser psychedelia before embracing Britpop and tracksuit tops a couple of years later as Oasis, Pulp and Blur began to change the face of British music once again. The Charlies deserve their place as one of the biggest bands of both Baggy and Britpop but are likely to be overlooked in favour of some of the more fly-by-night acts in both categories - this does them a disservice though, it's a little known fact that they were the first band to notch three UK #1 albums in the 1990s, placing them alongside globe-trotting supergroups like REM and U2. It's not like the Charlies have some sort of gameplan for success up their sleeve though, they just know the value of a good groove and as someone who's seen them live a good few times I can assure you that they're still in full possession of their funky faculties. But despite their wide canon of cracking albums and run of eminently danceable singles, I still find myself coming back to 'The only one I know' for that first hit of magic they delivered back then.

Paris Angels - Perfume (July 1990)

For those in the know this one will come as no surprise - for those who aren't, prepare to discover a real gem. This one might be my favourite Baggy tune of them all, a momentary flash of genius from the heady summer of 1990 - like many of the greatest dance anthems, two versions exist : the impressive guitar-led version embedded in the video link and the vastly superior loved up version here which was the more familiar one in clubland. Paris Angels are an ideal example of why Baggy was such a wonderful trend - bands could pop up out of every working class suburb of the North and produce something brilliant, the soundtrack to a moment in their young lives that would soon disappear forever. These weren't career musicians, they were kids drawn to the burgeoning music scene in greater Manchester whose only goal was to lay down something stunning that their mates could join in with on the dancefloor. The comments on YouTube only stands as testament to how the Baggy movement and this tune in particular meant so much to so many people - 'Perfume' sounds like the Chemical Brothers five years before they even existed and has lost none of its potency more than two decades later. The band never enjoyed any of the success their peers saw as Baggy broke big, releasing a couple more minor hits before their female vocalist got knocked up and the band decided to call it quits. The comments on the video link suggest that one of their number passed on recently so there's all the more reason to celebrate this awesome love rush as one of the genre's undiscovered classics.

Primal Scream - Higher than the Sun (May 1991)

I could have picked pretty much any of the singles from 'Screamadelica' but I've pulped for this one for its sheer ambition - the Scream weren't content to just fling out a couple of decent singles, they had a gameplan beyond 'Loaded' which culminated in the release of 'Screamadelica' in 1991 as part of a three-way Creation assault on the charts and critics (the other two being 'Bandwagonesque' and 'Loveless'). Based around two separate album versions, the single only grazed the top 40 upon release but showcased the band's ability to write a genuine showcloser, a tripped-out psychedelic anthem for all ages past and present. The effervescent post-house clubland anthems of 1990 had given way to a heavier take on revivalist psychedelia by the time 'Higher than the Sun' hit in mid 1991 amidst a blissed-out wash of shoegaze bands like Slowdive, Catherine Wheel and Chapterhouse, catching another peak which in many ways is totally different to the one 'Loaded' rode to the top in early 1990. The band's versatile mastery of several different genres is perhaps what's brought them their longstanding success (as well as a fair amount of abuse from critics accusing them of bangwagon jumping) and it's testament to the rich seam of quality on 'Screamadelica' that its singles covered two full years of UK chart trends (from 'Loaded' in early '90 to 'Movin' on up' in February 1992) - once that well had been drained, they promptly retreated from view with a bunch of Rolling Stones records to re-emerge two years later with the equally era-defining 'Rocks' in 1994. Every album since has been cause for much excitement even if they've missed the target a couple of times but you have to be willing to forgive the artistic faux pas of a band who've contributed so much to the British musical landscape. I saw them play 'Screamadelica' in its entirety last year and, far from being an exercise in wanton nostalgia, it felt like something truly timeless and as thrilling as the first time I'd heard it. 'Higher than the sun' is the backbone of that record and gets my vote as the Scream's contribution to the soundtrack to the Baggy era.

Flowered Up - Weekender (May 1992)

And as our final tune of the night, it could only be Baggy's own 'Stairway to Heaven', the death knell to the era that was Flowered Up's 12-minute epic 'Weekender' which called time not only on their career but on Baggy itself in the Spring of 1992. By that time the Mondays had crashlanded spectacularly with their crappy 'Yes Please!' album, the Roses were embroiled in a bitter dispute with Silvertone that would see them disappear to Wales for several years and every other band in the genre was either laying low or splitting up. Flowered Up were Southern scallies who'd missed out on Baggy's biggest spoils despite a run of great singles (like this for starters) but surprised everyone by saving their best for last - backed by a full-on feature film as a promo vid, 'Weekender' successfully summed up the joy of Baggy's heyday but also allowed the troubling notion to slip in that the fun was almost over. Like the last song of the night before they turn the lights on and you have to go back to normal life after a wild all-nighter, the track encapsulates peaks of euphoric build-up and lysergic comedown interspersed with flashes of sadness and frustration, perfectly translated into the image of a party animal living for the weekend but aware that the grim reality he's fleeing will catch up with him at some point. Like the painful Monday morning after a large weekend, the end of the line for Baggy was upon us in 1992 as the era drew to a close amidst break-ups, bankruptcy and drug addiction that would leave the British music scene barren until Suede emerged later in the year to sow the seeds of the Britpop explosion that would dominate the mid-90s. Flowered Up didn't survive the culture shift, though on the basis of this single they didn't expect to - their keyboardist ended up playing in chart rave outfit Republica whilst singer Liam Maher passed away a couple of years ago....I'll leave you to decide which one's the more tragic end. All good things come to an end and this was the soundtrack to a genre calling time and leaving the dancefloor to someone new. Tinted with tragedy, 'Weekender' nevertheless provided one last blow out before the journey's end.