Category Archives: Songs from 1996

Album: Future Spa, 1996

Justification: My deep and enduring love for the Fauves has been explored in previous posts for ‘Dogs Are The Best People’ and the hilarious, savage ‘Everybody’s Getting a 3 Piece Together’, but this is the perfect example of what the band had going on during their brief moment in the sun, when mainstream success seemed to beckon and the band went “you know what would really help us break through? A song about wanking.”

Apparently Future Spa is the name of a pinball machine. So, um, you know… amps?

And while the annals of popular music have no shortage of celebrations of the self-pleasuring arts, from Cyndi Lauper’s mighty ‘She Bop’ to the Vapors’ timeless ‘Turning Japanese’, generally people are a little veiled and circumspect. Not so Andy Cox: “beating off used to make me feel like a loser,” he cheerfully declares, “now I couldn’t feel any better.” Magnificent.

Oddly enough, this was not a massive worldwide hit – but, it should be pointed out, it is goddamn awesome.

Oh, and in the band’s rich tradition of slyly referencing other songs, it should be pointed out that the “I got what I got and it’s mine” in the second verse is a nod to the dick joke in ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’. Yes, the Beatles had a dick joke, and they made Ringo tell it.

I’m certain that there was a video made for it too, but damned if I can find it. It was pretty much a performance piece if I remember correctly. Also, how the hell is this almost 20 years old? I’m certain that it came out about a week ago.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2010: Blancmange were having their one undeniable moment of chart pop glory with ‘Living On The Ceiling’.

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

512. Sounds Like Sunset: Each Time You Smile (5 Sep)

513. Marcy Playground: Comin’ Up From Behind (10 Sep)

514. Cibo Matto: Sugar Water (14 Sep)

515: Jonathan Richman: Since She Started To Ride (24 Sep)

516: Sandie Shaw & the Smiths: Hand in Glove (2 Oct)

Album: Viva! La Woman, 1996

Justification: OK, let’s be clear: if there was a video for ‘Birthday Cake’, that’s what would be playing right now because that is hands-down my favourite Cibo Matto song, and was a frequent dancefloor smash at Space Capsule (the oft-referenced late 90s/early 00s club at which the DJ team of my ex-wife and my youngest sister would spin large slabs of my record collection). ‘Birthday Cake’ got us into the NYC duo of Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori, as it was on the (amazing, amazing) soundtrack to the Kids in the Hall’s massive flop of a movie, Brain Candy, alongside several bands we already loved (Stereolab, Pavement, They Might Be Giants) and a bunch that we got into in a result (Pizzicato Five, Yo La Tengo, and possibly – though it seems unlikely, looking at the timeline – Guided by Voices?). Anyway, hell of a song.

This loping bit of smooth trippy hip hop doesn’t have the abrasive genius of ‘Birthday Cake’ or of previous single ‘Know Your Chicken’, but it does have an amazing Michel Gondry-directed video which you should watch right now, if you haven’t already.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2010: Devo were laying out their global philosophy with ‘Beautiful World’.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2011: Seriously? Monte Video and the Cassettes with ‘Shoop Shoop Diddy Wop Cumma Cumma Wang Dang’? I better have made a solid argument…

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

509. Boards of Canada: ROYGBIV (22 Aug)

510. Juliana Hatfield: Everybody Loves Me But You (27 Aug)

511. Kate Bush: Cloudbusting (4 Sep)

512. Sounds Like Sunset: Each Time You Smile (5 Sep)

513. Marcy Playground: Comin’ Up From Behind (10 Sep)

Album: In a Bar, Under the Sea, 1996

Justification: I never realised it before, but I was clearly meant to be Belgian.

Let me clarify: had any of my bands been based in Antwerp, we’d have been huge. I still remember first hearing Soulwax’s ‘Much Against Everyone’s Advice’ and thinking that they’d somehow ganked the song from the future of Career Girls, and both the ‘Girls and the Undecided owed a huge unconscious debt to dEUS (except for our song ‘No Title, No Subject’ which was a genuine, conscious attempt by me to rewrite their magnificent ‘Houtellounge (Will Be The Death of Me)’ True story). Even this fairly awful video has underwater shots of a hippo strolling along the bottom of a river, which was the background of the Undecided’s first gig posters three years before this came out. COINCIDENCE? You be the judge. And also yes, obviously.

That is still the best name of any record not called Tyrannosaurus Hives, if you ask me.

This was an is one of my favourite dEUS songs, and they don’t do it live often. So my shit was comprehensively lost when they did that weird suspended chord at the Manning Bar the other night and I realised what I was about to hear. I’m pretty sure I wept, much as I did during ‘Hotellounge’, ‘Theme from Turnpike’, ‘Instant Street’ and anything else off the first three albums. Had they done ‘The Ideal Crash’, I’d a) have completely lost it, and b) thought it the world’s most painful piece of foreshadowing when looking back a few weeks later and realising that “stay by my side, it’s over” was going to have a whole lot of painful bonus resonance. But it didn’t happen, and that gig remains one of the most magnificent nights of my life.

And c’mon, how can you not sing along? “Ba ba, bada ba, bada ba…”

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2010: There are few songs more perfect than Pavemment’s ‘Gold Soundz’: that’s just a stone-cold fact, that is.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2011: Thanks me, why not remind me of the gig I totally missed yesterday via Prince and ‘Raspberry Beret’? Thanks a fucking bunch.

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

470. Hefner: When the Angels Play their Drum Machines (16 May)

471. Sparklehorse: Happy Man (17 May)

472. Timbuk 3: The Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades (21 May)

473. Ivy: Lucy Doesn’t Love You (22 May)

474. Operator Please: Logic (23 May)

Album: Fever In Fever Out, 1996

Justification: Luscious Jackson were a band I knew I was supposed to like rather than a band I particularly liked. They were on Grand Royale, the awesome and doomed label created by the Beastie Boys (also home to Ben Lee, fact fans), which meant they were super cool and credful. They had a hip hop influence yet played instruments like a (proper) indie band, and they were from New York and they were all female and had multiple songwriters and so on and so forth. You can see why every right-thinking music writer loved ‘em, and I dutifully fell into line even though I initially had trouble distinguishing them from Imperial Teen.

You're looking pale, ladies. You might need more iron.

However, then my friend Jon gave me the Nick Catchdubs & Mr Ducker 90s indie mix Radio Friendly Unit Shifter a year or so back, which includes a disturbingly large amount of these songs and upon which this emerged from PJ Harvey‘s ‘Down by the Water’ before morphing into the Muffs’ ‘You Suck’ (via a quote from Reality Bites). And I went “hey, I love this song!”

I was initially confused by the video though, partially because it took me a while to realise that the female protagonist of the clip is played by all four members of the band, and partially because I thought Kate Schellenbach was a drag queen. Incidentally, having just checked her Wikipedia page to confirm the spelling of her surname, it’s claimed that she was romantically involved with original Breeders bassist Josephine Wiggs, which would have been the best lesbian rhythm section on the planet.

The band have recently reunited, and for once it seems that there’s actually unfinished business to complete rather than pure mercenary nostalgia. Not that I have a problem with nostalgia, mind, as the entire existence of this damn blog makes terrfyingly clear day after inexplicable day.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2011: It’s Peter Bjorn & John’s ‘Young Folks’, and you already have the whistle riff going through your head. And you’re welcome.

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

432. The Bluetones: Slight Return (22 Feb)

433. Ben Lee: Cigarettes Will Kill You (24 Feb)

434. Babylon Zoo: Spaceman (27 Feb)

435. Trio: Da Da Da (28 Feb)

436. Five-Eight: Karaoke (29 Feb)

Album: Expecting to Fly, 1996

Justification: Everyone knows the Britpop a-list of Blur, Oasis and Pulp (and, arguably, Supergrass). Just about everyone remembers Suede, who seemed poised to lead the charge before mistepping badly, and how Elastica epitomised the early-promise-followed-by-smack-comedown trajectory. And if you’ve messed around on this blog you’ve probably encountered my spirited defences of the distinctly third-string likes of Sleeper and Gene and Lush.

Yeah, sure, a peacock, whatever. Who's got some blow?

But there’s one band I adored at the time who I so often forget, despite having been one of the most immediately successful bands of the time – a number one album, a number two single – and creating this glorious piece of jingle-jangle gorgeousness that epitomised everything that Britpop was about: a shuffling 60s sensibility, Smithsian chiming guitars, a smartarse title that evoked rock traditionalism – specifically, Hendrix’s ‘Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)’ – and the weirdly anonymous quality that every band of the time had. Seriously, shuffle these dudes with members of Marion, Thurman and any Charlatan that’s not Tim Burgess, and you’ve got a gaggle of nondescript 90s kids with shaggy bowl haircuts and an entirely Quadrophenia-derived notion of Mod.

That anonymity didn’t exactly serve them well when they came to release their (excellent) second album Return to the Last Chance Saloon in 1998, the last of their five albums that I can remember (although it turns out I own four of them). They were meant to tour Australia in 2010, but cancelled and then split up in 2011. So it can’t have been our fault.

They also get bonus points for calling a non-album single ‘Marblehead Johnson’, which is a reference to the music made by (genius comedian) Bill Hicks. All bands who reference Hicks get major props on principle.

SONG YOU SHOULD HAVE REDISCOVERED THIS TIME IN 2011: Ride seemed like they could do no wrong when they released ‘Leave Them All Behind’, little knowing all the wrong they were about to do.

AND HERE’S THE LAST FIVE…

427. Absentee: We Should Never Have Children (14 Feb)

428. The Johnnys: Injun Joe (15 Feb)

429. Depeche Mode: Wrong (16 Feb)

430. Shonen Knife: Riding on the Rocket (20 Feb)

431. The Chills: I Love My Leather Jacket (21 Feb)

Album: Lovelife, 1996

Justification: Lush did the seemingly impossible in the early 90s: while every other shoegaze band stumbled as the culture transitioned into Britpop, Lush skipped merrily between the cracks, upped the Lahndahn accent, turned down the guitar effects and were assimilated into the new regime. There they were, doing blow in Camden’s the Good Mixer with members of Blur and Elastica and Pulp while the metaphorical tumbrels creaked down the road outside, rattling toward the guillotine with Ride and Slowdive and Adorable and Pale Saints and every other band who hadn’t realised that they’d need to start putting Union Jacks on their speaker boxes if they hoped to still be considered relevant in this bold new age.

And Lush, bless ‘em, did it well. Their 1992 album Spooky is a genuine shoegaze classic and by the time they came to make 1994′s Split they were creating some killer pop singles, with the previously-ethereal vocals of guitarist/songwriters Miki Berenyi and Emma Anderson given a new bratty energy. However, it failed to break them in the States and Japan and by the time this, their most commercially successful album, turned up the rest of the world had lost interest – even as this single and the Jarvis Cocker duet ‘Ciao!’ climbed the charts. And what a freakin’ great song this is: one of Ms Berenyi’s numbers, it’s one of the sweetest-sounding “why don’t you just fuck off” songs I’ve ever heard (and I always smirk at the “now now girls please don’t fight” line).

However, Britpop was dying by this stage and while Lovelife fit the morning-after-comedown vibe that so many of the albums of the time shared (preceded by Blur’s The Great Escape, followed by Pulp’s This Is Hardcore), what was to destroy the band was something rather more serious than post-chemical ennui: mere months after the release of this album, drummer Chris Acland hanged himself at his parent’s house. The band never recovered and while rumours abounded that they were looking at ways to continue, they announced their permanent split 18 months later.

THIS TIME IN 2010: Weekend. So let’s see what 1996 had to offer, shall we?

Album: One Fierce Beer Coaster, 1996

Justification: I’ve got no legitimate justification for this one. Honestly. The Bloodhound Gang’s repertoire of puerile sex jokes and weak songs has no place in this list of legitimate artists. There are few songs I hate more than ‘The Bad Touch’ or ‘Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo’ (oh, how delicious! They spelled a bad word in callsigns! Take that, accepted norms regarding use of language in popular music!). Their mindless frat-boy humour sickens me.

Except for this song.

It’s not even clever. The “I’m not black like Barry White / No, I’m white like Frank Black is” bit is cute, as is the Pixies joke that follows (“This honky’s gone to heaven”), and while I can forgive the reference to “planet Pluto” on the basis that a) Pluto wasn’t demoted from planet status until 2006, and also that b) “Trans-Neptunian object Pluto” doesn’t really scan as well, in any case the verse is astronomically weak in that you can’t possibly see Pluto with the naked eye under any circumstances – and the subsequent Uranus pun would make grade three listeners groan.

So why the hell does this song have a place in this list?

I think it comes down to this: 1. Those chunky guitars sound really, really good – almost Weezer-esque, in fact – and 2. hearing a drawling white boy deadpan the classic 80s hype man chant “the roof / the roof / the roof is on fire” never gets old.

In fact, according to my iTunes play count, since being reacquainted with this song via their recent, awful best-of Show Us Your Hits (complete with topless dame on the inner sleeve) it’s become one of my most played songs.

Dear god, help me.

Oh, the aforementioned chorus is from Rock Master Scott & the Dynamic Three’s ‘The Roof Is On Fire’, incidentally, which is why they’re credited as co-writers along with the ‘Gang’s musical visionary Jimmy Pop.

Album: First Band on the Moon, 1996

Justification: Well, this would have been a perfect Valentine’s song, wouldn’t it? Sorry, I was busy.

This was the Cardigans’ breakthrough hit in the English speaking world – they were already stars in their native Sweden by the time of their third album – but if earlier single ‘Carnival’ cracked the door slightly, this kicked it in. That was mainly thanks to its use in Baz Luhrman’s film William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, which conveniently came out a couple of months before the single dropped.

While the band had further success – ‘My Favourite Game’ was a sizeable hit too, as was their cover of ‘Burning Down The House’ with Tom Jones – the sheer earworminess of this song combined with the relative anonymity of the band make they appear, incorrectly, to be a one-hit wonder. It also lead to one of the best moments in the US version of The Office, when Jim starts singing the chorus just to drive his co-workers mad with its incessant catchiness.

Oh, and if you were wondering – like Ed Helms’ character Andy – whatever happened to those guys: they’ve been on hiatus since 2007.

Album: Electric Larryland, 1996

Justification: For a long time the Butthole Surfers were nothing more to me than a band that really knew how to name an album – I always thought Hairway to Steven was one hell of an album title – but then heard this single in 1996 when Triple J were thrashing it and went “oh, they’re one of those ironic white-boy hip-hop things like Beck” and promptly ignored them (and Beck) for another couple of years for some idiotic reason. I think it was that this has a similar drum pattern to ‘Loser’, and that both were getting played far, far too much at the time. And, also, because I was kind of an idiot.

The reason this came back into my head is because I saw Blue Mountain kids Cloud Control play at Meredith on the weekend and they dropped a ‘Pepper’ verse and chorus into their song ‘Gold Canary’. Which was awesome.

This was the Surfers’ one and only stab at mainstream acceptance, so much so that – according to the good people at Wikipedia – it even got a cover by a Christian parody band (yes, such things apparently exist) who, presumably, wouldn’t have been big fans of the band beforehand. The parody was called ‘People’, was about Christ’s disciples and was parenthetically credited as being a parody of “the Buttonhole Surfers” because God gets angry when you mention bits of the body for which he was presumably responsible. And also, I seem to remember the original song being a metaphor for the spread of HIV. Oh, Christian humourists ApologetiX, you’re so going to hell.

One hell of a video too. Gibby Hayes, you look far more convincing as white trash being questioned by police than a shiny variety show performer.

Album: Casanova, 1996

Justification: Oh, how we all swooned when Neil Hannon stepped into the limelight. The timing was perfect: Pulp and Blur were in the ascendent and therefore the British public were open to thin, eccentric men who seemed to have read a bit, and the yobbish Britpop New Lad factor was accounted for by the fact that Casanova (the Divine Comedy’s fourth album; or third if you – like Hannon – wanted to pretend that his REM-indebted debut Fanfare for the Comic Muse didn’t exist) was basically about shagging. His previous two albums had been brilliant, string-infused pieces of baroque pop that wore their literary influences proudly (1993′s Liberation contained songs inspired by Wordsworth, Chekhov and F. Scott Fitzgerald, while 1994′s Promenade had a song – ‘The Booklovers’ – that was nothing but a list of authors). Casanova still had some smart-arsery up it’s sleeve (such as the Orwell-punning title to ‘In and Out in Paris and London’), but the inspiration for this, Hannon’s first chart hit, was the film version of Cold Comfort Farm. More specifically, it was inspired by Hannon’s speculations that a woman as beautiful as Kate Beckinsale would only show a romantic interest in Hannon if she planned to mug him.

Since the book and film are set in the dismal, windswept farmland of Sussex, the video to the song has Hannon looking wry in Venice. Of course.

From here the Divine Comedy started to dial up the wacky and satirical for songs like ‘Generation Sex’ and ‘National Express’, but Casanova hit that perfect spot between Hannon as louche lothario and nerdy student. I remember first hearing it at my friend (and then-bandmate) Nick Lambert’s house during a party, and how he, I and a couple of other people in a corner of his bedroom, huddled around a portable CD player and listening to it over and over.

We weren’t great party guests in the mid-90s, my friends and I.