‘I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times’ by Brian Wilson

A record which is as confusing, as baffling, and as hard to explain as the man who made it. ‘I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times’ was made in the mid 90s as the soundtrack to a documentary about Wilson’s life. As such, there are a number of things about it which are commendable.

Firstly, it would have been easy not to bother. A lazily assembled compilation of existing Beach Boys tracks would have been easier to put together, so it’s good that this wasn’t done. Secondly, it would also have been easy for Wilson to churn out an obvious set of re-recorded ‘classics’. This would have made for a more appealing commercial prospect, but not a better record. Instead, this record skirts around the edges of Wilson’s song-writing catalogue, touching on tracks that are easy to miss – ‘Meant For You’, ‘This Whole World’, ‘Let The Wind Blow’ and ‘Til I Die’ are particularly good choices. Less worthy of inclusion are ‘Love And Mercy’ and ‘Melt Away’, two solo-era tracks credited to Wilson and his doctor/therapist/manager, Eugene Landy, the man who broke Wilson’s drug dependence and began restoring him to a normal life, in return for the minor concession of having complete control over every aspect of his life, and the right to profit from any work he went on to complete – behaviour which resulted in complicated legal action and an eventual revocation of his license to practice. ‘Love And Mercy’ is a pleasant enough track – ‘Melt Away’ is weaker. Perhaps the most interesting track on the album is ‘Still I Dream Of It’, a home demo from the mid-seventies which, I think, had been unreleased until this point.

Alongside the creditable aspects of this work are some fairly major drawbacks. Of course, more work has gone into this album than a simple round-up of the relevant Beach Boys tracks would have been. Unfortunately, that hasn’t resulted in a better album. Wilson’s backing band and singers on this project are a collection of anonymous session players who lack both the family-honed warmth of the Beach Boys or the faithful recreation of Wilson’s later backing band. Worse still, Wilson’s voice is not in good shape here. No-one would expect it to be as good as it was in the sixties, but here it’s in a very fragile condition – a world away from what it would recover to by the time he started touring ‘Pet Sounds’ and recreating ‘Smile’.

So, all in all, this is something of a non-essential record – one for the dedicated fans only. But consider this – this was the first time Wilson had really had the confidence to look back over his life’s work and do something with it. A few years on, and he’d be playing ‘Pet Sounds’ to audiences across the world. A few years later, he finished ‘Smile’. Maybe this was a first step? If so, worth it.

'Giggle' by Why?

It was with a certain amount of trepidation I listened to this. As a teenager, I loved Why?, but I found it hard to believe that affection would be unchanged. As a result, this was a very pleasant surprise.

Musically, this is better than you might think. It’s played well, and the production is fairly good (though at times, the violin dominates like a buzz saw). There are also inventive flourishes throughout the album – unexpected shifts in tempo and key which generally work very well. The album’s vocal duties are shared by Ant and Nick Parker, and they complement each other well. Ant’s vocals are warmer, Nick’s are perhaps more ambitious, but with a certain degree of tongue in cheek.

Lyrically, the album is a curious mix. A deliberate amount of nonsense is on show, but the band were never afraid to display their faith openly, either through serious references to God, or in-jokes – you have to love a band who start a song with the line ‘every year, Steve Chalke brings out a video’.

Throughout it all, there’s a sense of fun and enjoyment that you can’t help but be sucked in by, even if that comes despite your better judgement.

‘Garbage’ by Garbage

As I continue to work through my collection, occasionally, I throw up a record I can’t quite explain. I’m not entirely sure why this is an album I own – I certainly didn’t own it on its release, so it must have been something I picked up at a later date, presumably in some sort of offer. It’s also not an album I’m especially familiar with, barring the more obvious big hits.

Still, having said all that, I’ve let this album play on rotation for the best part of a week, and I’ve been enjoying it quite a lot. I think you have to adjust your mindset slightly to get the most out of it – it’s not the cheeriest of records, and every now and again, the angsty lyrics and vaguely industrial backing tracks are a little wearing, but the album on the whole is underpinned by a good understanding of what makes good pop music. It does have strong melodies, and it is played, and sung, well. The big hits deserved their status – ‘Only Happy When It Rains’, ‘Queer’ and ‘Stupid Girl’ are particularly fine, but there are other good moments as well – ‘Supervixen’ is a strong opening, ‘Fix Me Now’ is good, ‘Milk’ is a well-crafted ending. It doesn’t all lodge in the memory so strongly – even after repeated listenings, I remain a bit vague about quite a lot of the record, but none of it stands out as bad. So, all in all, pretty enjoyable.

‘Elastica’ by Elastica

Elastica were one of those bands that really caught the moment. This, their debut album, was a major success on its release, just as Britpop was sweeping the musical world. Five years later, after numerous line up changes, their second album would limp from the studio to enormous public indifference, and the band broke up a year later. Generally in these circumstances, you’d tend to look back at the debut album and realise that actually, it wasn’t that good in the first place, thus consigning the band to a forgotten status.

Actually, despite the numerous controversies surrounding it at the time, ‘Elastica’ still stands up as a really good album. More than one other band accused them of plagiarism, and rumours abounded that Damon Albarn, partner of Justine Frischmann, the band’s frontman, wrote some or all of the record. However, even if all these rumours are true, the finished result is great.

At fifteen tracks and 38 minutes long, the album hurtles along, ensuring that any weaker tracks are soon forgotten about. At their best, the songs are catchy, punchy, and played with enough rough edges to sound exciting. I’ve no idea how much production work went into making these songs sound ‘as live’, but it works. Take the fifth track, ‘Smile’ as an example of all of this. The bass and guitar parts work almost in competition with each other, the bass in particular flares in volume frequently, but the melody is strong, the short and snappy harmony pieces fit perfectly, and after 100 seconds, it’s finished. (By contrast, ‘Hold Me Now, the following track, is two and a half minutes long, and it risks outstaying its welcome).

This isn’t an album you’d think to play that often – Elastic left behind no real further legacy, so once the Britpop era fizzled out, they faded away like so many other bands of the era, but this record does remain, an achievement to be proud of, and a very good listen even now.

‘Cutting Edge 4’ by The Cutting Edge Band (Delirious?)

And so, with volume 4, the Cutting Edge era came to a close. It seems bizarre, listening back to this, that the band were still churning out releases without a proper name at this stage. However, with Jon Thatcher added to the line-up as bassist, this album can stake a claim to being the first proper Delirious? album.

More similar to volume 3 than volume 3 had been to volumes 1 and 2, ‘Cutting Edge 4’ offers a collection of songs largely tailored to performance. There’s no mistaking their Christian message, but the majority of these songs wouldn’t have worked as worship songs even at the Soul Survivors of the world. Some are too too personal, written to closely to the experiences of an individual. Others are just a little too polished. ‘Louder Than The Radio’ and ‘You Split The Earth’ are too polished – carefully arranged and produced, dependant too heavily on Stuart Garrard’s guitar parts and backing vocals to be copied elsewhere. His guitar in particular has taken a leading role in the band’s sound by now. That said, ‘When All Around Has Fallen’ is all bass and piano. And beauty, especially in retrospect. A song that sounded a touch dirge-like a decade and a half ago now sounds very moving (perhaps that’s just me). It would set a template for future songs like ‘Hands of Kindness’ and ‘Summer of Love’, but it also stands apart on it’s own. ‘I’ve Searched For Gold’ is the traditional ‘Martin Smith on his own’ song in the middle. It’s perfectly adequate, but slightly unnecessary – a throwback to a simpler time.

‘Shout To The North’ opens the second half, and is a curious beast. In many ways, it stands at odds with the rest of the album as the only song which would work in a church context (we used to do it all the time). It’s simple enough, catchy enough, and very easy to sing, but it doesn’t really fit, and the presence of the children’s choir doesn’t help much. In retrospect, it may have been better left until ‘Glo’, but I guess that would have required an unprecedented level of foresight. ‘All I Want Is You’ is this albums ‘I’m Not Ashamed’, a straightforward rock track with a personal lyric of commitment. I remember the line ‘can I be free from the chains of my religion’ sounded quite daring at the time, but I guess that’s what you get for being fifteen years old. ‘Obsession’ is the epic finale to the album (and a staple of the live set for a years afterwards), built round a ponderous bassline, and decorated with many lashings of e-bow.

I remember buying this on cassette at Spring Harvest soon after its release and being slightly unsure of it. It sounded good – and it still does, truth be told – but something about it just didn’t quite work. In retrospect, I think this was a sign that the band were outgrowing their context. A short album each year of half a dozen tracks just wasn’t enough any more for them to express what they were aiming for. There was no real indication at the time of the direction they were about to hurtle off into, but all the signs are there.

‘Cutting Edge 3’ by The Cutting Edge Band (Delirious?)

If ‘Cutting Edge 2’ represented a shift in emphasis for the Cutting Edge band, the follow-up was a fundamental shift which altered the course of the band from there on in. From the opening of ‘Did You Feel The Mountains Tremble’, it is apparent that the band have left behind the approach of going into the studio and recording straightforward versions of songs that could be sung in churches. The opening track is lengthy, carefully arranged, and only of use for singing with big crowds. None-the-less, it sounds fantastic, even now. ‘I’ve Found Jesus’ is more straightforward, but similarly un-congregational. ‘Oh Lead Me’ is far simpler, and achievable on a small scale.

The second half (or ‘side’ for those who remember the cassette versions) is structured in much the same way. ‘Shaken Up’ and ‘I’m Not Ashamed’ are great songs written for performance, and ‘Find Me In The River’ is a quieter, gentler end.

The album as a whole is much more ambitious than its predecessors, and in a sense, it sets a template for everything that came afterwards. According to the history of Delirious?, the band made no decision to go full time until after the release of ‘Cutting Edge 4’, but it’s hard to believe the thought hadn’t crossed their mind by this stage.