116. Fields Of The Nephilim - Moonchild (Situation Two)

Two weeks at number one from 11th June 1988

It may have been a constant feature of the NME Indie Chart from day one, but commercially speaking, goth rock was truly at its zenith in 1988. The Mission scored a number two album (“Children”) with John Paul Jones as their producer, All About Eve had a gold-certified top ten album, and The Sisters Of Mercy had emerged from the undergrowth the year before to become serious international contenders. 

While the music magazines of the period talked endlessly about grebo and indiepop, in alternative rock terms nobody was coming close to outscoring the men and ladies in black (except perhaps The Primitives). The Smiths were finished, and nobody had yet emerged who seemed fit to take their crown. That meant that if you went into a provincial alternative nightclub in ‘88, you were far more likely to be greeted by “This Corrosion” and “Severina” than “Nobody’s Twisting Your Arm” – and this situation actually lasted way beyond 1988. At the Rayleigh Pink Toothbrush, for example, Friday night was unofficially "goth night" until at least 1992, and God help the DJ if he tried to change tack for any great length of time. 

If The Fields of the Nephilim weren’t quite up there with the others on the scene yet, “Moonchild” finally saw them in the National Top 30, getting a brief moment in the “Top of The Pops” Chartbreakers section (a very cowardly move from the Beeb, I’d say – their emergence in the mainstream should have resulted in a studio appearance). They were never the most obviously commercial goth band, having tendencies to sprawl and meander. Carl McCoy would never snarl “Hey now, hey now now” where “radiation, contamination” could be used instead. He wasn’t a man given to glam rock cries of stadium or dancefloor unity, instead preferring to sound like some kind of harbinger of doom and gloom; The Nine O’Clock news from the year 2053 if read by a frail desert anchorman suffering from leprosy.

We’ve already explored why that made the group both so ludicrous and so special in the entry for “Blue Water”, and “Moonchild” is really more of the same, except perhaps a little less ambitious in its scope. If “Blue Water” sounded like the entire soundtrack for a film compressed into five minutes, “Moonchild” grips tightly to an admittedly solid central riff instead. They even jangle in a way which might get Johnny Marr’s ears to prick up on this one, so after each distorted run of guitars and slow creep of McCoy’s growls there’s a beautiful, glistening melody, adding some glittery sweetness against the sour.

What the hell “Moonchild” is actually about is utterly anyone’s guess, because the lyrics are as vague as Nostradamus’s proclamations - “Take your prisoners to the promised war/ You'll die for this,” McCoy promises harshly. “It's a righteous day but I'll remind you/ Don't live your life supply,” he reckons. It’s hard to understand what it is we’re actually being warned about, and as usual the group do most of the colouring in, each riff and every punch of emphasis giving his delirious worldview a semblance of meaning.

What is certainly true is that ex-Leamington Spa resident* (the town from which I’m currently typing this blog entry) Aleister Crowley did write a book called “Moonchild”, and this seems to have been the inspiration. Quelle surprise. Morrissey may not have had Crowley’s novels on his sickbed table, but the man has probably had more influence on rock music than any other author. I’ve never read the book, but according to summaries online it involves a Black Lodge and an unfortunate girl who is caught up in a magical war between two rival men; this gives us more of an inkling than McCoy’s guttural cries.

No matter. It was ultimately Fields of the Nephilim’s biggest chart hit. They would disturb the Sunday Top 40 rundown twice more in the next couple of years (with “Psychonaut” and “Sumerland”) before Carl McCoy’s departure from the group in 1991 upended everything.

You could argue that without this misfortune, a few more pushes would have seen them become the next big rock sensation. Sadly, for all their undoubted skill, and for all the creative colour beneath their darkness, they always did feel like the kind of cult band who would never make sense to most of the teenagers wearing band T-shirts in 1988. They were too vague, too mysterious and too allergic to the very idea of anthems, preferring sweeping arrangements instead. Their fanbase treasured them; the rest of the world looked on, baffled.

As a result, of course, barely anybody will read this blog entry. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t stop it braying at the sight of a flour-coated cloudy-eyed man, pointing a bony finger and growling indistinct proclamations. That’s just the way things are.

(*Crowley legendarily got so sick of the residents of Leamington that he cursed them for eternity, apparently ensuring that anyone born here could never leave for good. Whether he’s also responsible for the most haunted railway station in Britain, the ghost of the Nazi soldier in the Masonic Lodge at the top of my road, the “big cat”, or the fact that I once saw a log starting to smoulder by itself in the woods near my house is possibly Carl McCoy’s guess).

New Entries Elsewhere In The Charts

Week One

13. Erasure - Chains of Love (remix) (Mute)

Peak position: 5

One of Erasure’s more overlooked hit singles, “Chains Of Love” was all over the television and radio waves in 1988; perhaps unexpectedly, though, its sprightly, almost gospel styled evocations to free one’s self of oppression and romantic entrapment didn’t capture the public’s attention as much as the mournful “Ship of Fools”. It (only just) missed out on a top ten place, breaking their recent run.

Perhaps the video aggravated matters. It looks as if it involved a lot of effort and stress for very little visual return – Vince and Andy seem as if they’re swinging about at terrifying heights above a half-lit stage at some gloomy goth venue in Leeds; hardly the appropriate backdrop for a song as bright as this one. Did Vince think he was back in Depeche Mode or something? 

18. The Shamen - Jesus Loves Amerika (Moshka)

Peak position: 8

"Jesus Loves Amerika" is an angry, irritated stab at American television evangelists and US culture and society in general. "Jesus loves Amerika!" they tell us "But I don't love neither!"

The group were highly politicised at this point, entitling their latest (actually very good and extremely forward-looking) album "In Gorbachev We Trust", but there's still not much excuse for this attempt at soapbox ranting. "Yeah, these are the men who put the right in righteous/ Such hypocrisy, stupidity is truly out of sight, yes" they inform us, such forced rhymes rather undermining any sensible points they're trying to make. Really chaps... even Duran Duran are blushing in the corner.

There probably are a decent set of lyrics to be written about TV evangelists, but they're not to be found here, and nor can they be found in Phil Collins' "Jesus He Knows Me". For what it's worth, The Shamen just about dodge the Christian Death Adolescent Silliness award by having a half-decent tune beneath their bile, which contains the usual shimmering guitars, sledgehammer beatbox rhythms, and some actually very effective and sickening samples. The Shamen didn't need to highlight the bigotry and smug piousness of these men when their own words speak for themselves, and actually act as some of the most effective inclusions on the single.

By the time we next meet The Shamen, though, their metamorphosis will be complete, and if "Jesus Loves Amerika" sounds like the last gasp of a group due to head off in an entirely new direction, it's because it is.

20. The Groove Farm - The Big Black Plastic Explosion (Subway)

Peak position: 17

The Groove Farm seem to take the riff from XTC’s (aka Dukes of Stratosphear’s) “Your Gold Dress” here and extend it one big freaky garage mover, stripping out the psychedelia and returning to raw old Laurie Records values.

Of all the garage throwback records I’ve recently heard from this era, this is the one which is the most convincing replica; it avoids the temptation to indulge in irony or knowing pastiche, instead just being in love with its own primal groove. This would have been a minor hit in some US regions in 1966, but turned out to be a great big nothing in 1988, obviously – but you’ve got to thank them sincerely for giving it to us.

27. The Apartments - The Shyest Time (Glass)

Peak position: 27

The Apartments had close associations with fellow Brisbane group The Go-Betweens, with their driving force Peter Walsh also having spent time working with them. “The Shyest Time” was taken from the soundtrack of John Hughes film “Some Kind Of Wonderful”, and has subsequently enjoyed an unexpectedly long afterlife thanks to fans of the man’s eighties flicks.

Sadly, the rights to the track involved the group being tied up in complicated legislation with Hughes, to the extent that they were unable to record for a long period, resulting in an enormous amount of lost momentum (as is often the way with these things, the Internet is surprisingly quiet on the intricacies of the case).

“The Shyest Time” is therefore their very modest commercial peak. Never mind that the music press were salivating over the possibilities their new material afforded them – by the time they returned to fully capitalise on the hype, everyone had moved on. The fragile wonder of this single is perhaps more appropriate than it should have been.

Week Two


14. Talulah Gosh - Bringing Up Baby (53rd and 3rd)

Peak position: 10

At one particularly fruitful, fresh post-C86 point, you couldn't even pick up a copy of the glossy Record Mirror without reading about Talulah Gosh. The music business is cruel, though, especially to hobbyists, and by 1988 eyes were turning elsewhere.

It's not overly surprising, because while the music press love to champion fresh new faces and underdogs for a year or two, they tend to lose patience and wander off if the act either remains proudly underground or just plain doesn't break through. Talulah Gosh were clearly in the former camp - despite the enormous strides they had made creatively, they remained on a tiny indie, always sounded charmingly amateurish (or irritatingly so, depending on your point of view) and continued writing songs about subject matters which were never going to resonate with the broader public.

"Bringing Up Baby", for example, seems to be partly based on a 1938 Katherine Hepburn film of the same name. I've never seen it, but it's apparently a "screwball comedy", which makes the slightly melancholic air and detachment of the song feel rather strange. It seems more likely that this is about an ordinary couple desperately imagining themselves to be like Hepburn and Cary Grant in the film.

It's a sweet, lonely, fragile little song which sounds like the band beginning to explore more interesting depths, but they were actually close to the end. Like The Flatmates before them, there would be no album, although Amelia Fletcher, Mathew Fletcher and Peter Montchiloff would re-emerge in Heavenly, who became full-on indiepop legends with a much more rounded, tougher style.

Fun Indiepop fact - In 2014 Amelia Fletcher was awarded with an OBE for her services to Competition and Consumer Economics.

16. Jesse Garon and The Desperadoes - You'll Never Be That Young Again (Velocity)

Peak position: 12


19. Overlord X - 14 Days In May (Hardcore)

Peak position: 19

Overlord X was a British rapper from Hackney who never really achieved a high degree of mainstream visibility, but was certainly rougher, more focused and more demanding than the most popular British rappers (Derek B, on your bike). “14 Days In May” focused its fury on the treatment of Mississippi prisoner Edward Earl Johnson, who protested his innocence but was ultimately executed by gas chamber in 1987. It pulls no punches, and rattles along ferociously, making every beat matter.

He eventually signed to the Island affiliated Mango Records, where bizarre commercial opportunities presented themselves, not least contributing to the soundtrack of a Stephen Fry documentary about chess.

He remains active in the music business (Overlord X, that is, not Fry) behind the scenes, managing and mentoring new acts, and the three albums he left behind in his own name remain acclaimed pieces of work, catching plenty of attention from collectors. 

21. Quireboys - Mayfair (Survival)

Peak position: 14

In 1988, The Quireboys were a much-fancied old-school boozy rock group in the vein of The Faces. Renowned for their raucous live gigs, they gave the national scene a raw, balls-out sound it had clearly been missing for a long time. While they were never as fashionable, they also beat Primal Scream to the Southern boogie punch bowl, which has probably not been mentioned much since.

Despite being on an indie label at this point, they didn't really have a keen “indie following”, attracting the long-haired denim wearing boys and girls much more keenly. "Mayfair" is a neat track, though, sounding like a lost piece of 1973 rock and roll. Stemming from a period when Ginger of The Wildhearts was a member of the group, it seems so authentic that you could possibly even fool someone by telling them that it's an out-take from a much more legendary band - and that bar-room piano and those husky, growling vocals are expertly handled.

Unsurprisingly, their time in indieland was limited, and EMI stepped in to sign them fairly swiftly, giving them a number two hit album with "A Bit Of What You Fancy". A long career in the limelight seemed assured, but disappointing sales of the follow-up "Bitter Sweet & Twisted" put paid to that idea and their commercial demise was cruelly swift.

They've since undergone some line-up shuffling and reformed a couple of times, and remain active to this day.

27. The Rhythm Sisters - American Boys (Red Rhino)

Peak position: 9

The Rhythm Sisters were Mandi and Debbi Laek, who were siblings (obviously!) and were one of those unusual acts who were largely ignored by John Peel and instead had brief glimmers of mainstream media exposure. Channel 4 gave them a quarter of a prime time hour to themselves on their series “Famous For Fifteen Minutes”, The Proclaimers invited them to be their support act on a national tour, press excitement was generated and… well, aside from “American Boys” and cultishly positive sales of their album “Road To Roundhay Pier”, not much happened despite their obvious star quality.

Sometimes, however, bands (or their managers) make unfortunate decisions. Red Rhino was a very bad choice of home for the duo, as they were suffering from notable cashflow issues which resulted in the receivers closing them down at the end of the year. “American Boys” was the last seven inch single to be issued by the label, and while I hope the Laek sisters eventually received fair payment for its modest indie success, I’m also doubtful.

Their rootsy, folky sound was definitely compatible with an increased demand for authenticity in the late eighties, and “American Boys” manages to combine memorable hooks with a certain agitated spikiness despite their acoustic sound. By the time they had picked up the pieces and returned on Imaginary Records in 1991, though, the public's heads were generally elsewhere.

For the complete charts, please go to the UKMix forums

Number Ones In The National Charts

Wet Wet Wet/ Billy Bragg: "With A Little Help From My Friends/ She's Leaving Home" (Childline)

Timelords: "Doctorin' The Tardis" (KLF Communications)