61. James - Hymn From A Village (Factory)

One week at number one on w/e 18th May 1985

James were a somewhat pious bunch of buggers to begin with. While preparing myself for this blog entry, I made the mistake of listening to “Hymn From A Village” immediately before bedtime, trying to get my head around Tim Booth in particular. My REM brain – no pun intended – immediately went to work on the scenario, and I was presented with an image of Paul McGann playing Booth playing Jesus Christ preaching to a large crowd in Jeruasalem. The throng were restless and somewhat ambivalent about his messages.

Then I woke up, and immediately felt that this was a disappointing result from my brain. If it was trying to help me, it could at least deliver something more than idle critical hackwork. I mean, the old “rock star as God” cliché, spare me (I was then punished with a proper nightmare about something else, but never mind about that). But then again… was it a case of "Fair comment" in this instance?

While James went on to become proper rock stars playing enormous venues, you could easily argue that they had an unusually daring mission statement here for a group of minor renown. There’s an unspoken rule in most artforms that you don’t reflect on the art itself in your work; therefore, artists should not paint works which offer commentaries on other art, and poets should not write poems about poetry. Entering into such a feedback loop suggests self-indulgence, boring your audience with your tales of what you got up to at “the office” that day and who delighted and aggravated you.

Rock music has always operated to slightly different standards, however, and there are plenty of songs out there appraising heroes, offering dedication to whole genres, or just singing about the transporting nature of music itself. Then there are the bitchy sideswipes – “There There My Dear” by Dexys Midnight Runners is probably one of the most successful examples – which want to throw darts at photos of the lazy, underachieving villains in the business.

“Hymn From The Village” is definitely on the latter side of the fence, kicking and screaming at rock lyricists who have no interest in engaging with anything beyond mundane cliches. There’s not even any build-up. Booth begins cuttingly and unequivocally: “This song's made up, made second rate/ Cosmetic music, powderpuff/ Pop tunes, false rhymes, all lightweight bluffs/ Secondhand ideas, no soul, no hate…” If that weren’t enough, he really starts waving his sword around later, as eloquent as a warrior in an ancient play: “This language used is all worn out/ A walking corpse it won't play dead/ Disease dragged on from bed to bed/ Paid for your twist, paid for shout”.

The song itself is all campfire bone and steel rattles, where deep, rubbery basslines mix with exotic jangles. It builds steadily, getting more frantic and agitated as it goes along, in love with its own noise but also rattled by the hatred of everyone else’s. There’s not a second of this single where I think they don’t mean it – the passion is there, the intent clear to everyone – but in the 1985 world, there were surely bigger things to worry about than the lyrical complacency of pop artists? A world of Morrissey, Elvis Costello, Mark E Smith, Billy Bragg, Cathal Coughlan, and umpteen anarcho-punk bands wasn’t exactly a scene left bone-dry of lyrical passion, or even literate and thoughtful musicians. Is it possible that Tim Booth wasn’t actually telling us about what we didn’t currently have, but grandstanding about who he believed he was? If so, he wouldn’t be the last Manc Son of God to climb up the summit to do so.

It’s a deeply odd single whose climax of “Heard you calling through the drumbeat/ Can you hear the question, feel the reply?” could just as easily belong to an ecstatic piece of early 90s House music, were it not so frenzied, angry and manic. It’s asking for something much bigger from musicians – a relationship, a sense of belonging, a campfire to place a population around who would no longer feel so apart and alone; intelligent observations and answers, not vague outlines.

59b. The Smiths - Shakespeares Sister/ 60b. Cocteau Twins - Aikea Guinea (EP)

 

"Shakespeare's Sister" returns to the top for one further week on w/e 20th April 1985

The "Aikea-Guinea" EP returns for a further 3 weeks on w/e 27th April 1985

Here we are again, with an absurd situation in the 1985 indie charts where The Smiths rebound for a single week and the Cocteau Twins grab the mantle back for three more. Who were the winners here? Not us, that's for sure, as it means we have no fresh meat to pop on the NME Indie Chart barbecue. Let's celebrate the other contenders lower down the charts instead.

Week One

14. Smiley Culture - Cockney Translation (Fashion)

Peak position: 11

"Cockney Translation" had originally been issued in 1984 and distributed by Polydor, but despite picking up huge appreciation among British reggae listeners, the label weren't impressed enough to release his next single "Police Officer", which was his only proper mainstream hit. They did, though, eventually have him back again for future releases in 1986, but couldn't be bothered to re-issue "Cockney Translation" themselves, hence its appearance here on the Fashion label in the indie listings. Confused? Oh, so the bloody hell am I. 

In short, though, it's a great record. Smiley does his bit for urban relations by explaining Cockney slang and culture to his listeners, while simultaneously explaining British-Jamaican slang. It's witty and devious but also incredibly danceable, pounding away faster and with greater intent the more rapid-fire and intense Smiley gets. You can hear people doing almost identical things at spoken word events to this day; this was some sharply radical stuff by 1984 standards.

25. Andi Sex Gang - Ida-Ho (Illuminated)

Peak position: 25

28. T.Rex - Megarex​ (Marc on Wax)

Peak position: 3

By 1985 the "classic rock and pop" medley had largely been consigned to the cultural dustbin, but that didn't stop record labels with compilations and reissues to flog from leaning on it as a promotional device. The Sweet have already disgraced the indie charts being massacred in this way, now it's Bolan's turn - and the outcome is no less graceless, frankly. 

Leading on a hopelessly weak foot by making Bolan stutter at least six times too many on "Truck On (Tyke)" the rest of the best of his ouevre is also treated to the same basic DJ treatment. At its worst, this sounds more like the stylus getting stuck or skipping across a compilation LP than involving anything as complex as mash-ups or beat matching. Grim. 

29. Sonic Youth with Lydia Lunch - Death Valley '69 (Blast First)

Peak position: 29

Sonic Youth had obviously been creeping around the underground scene for a few years by this point, but this was their debut single and has established itself as a cult classic since. Teaming the group up with the terminally adolescent rebel Lydia Lunch, "Death Valley" shows the sorry excuses for mid-eighties British punk bands how to really approach things - it's immediately arresting, and simultaneously simple yet unpredictable. This would have passed as a credible and current single in 1993, never mind 1985.

At one critical moment, it seems to get locked into its own primitive drone for an uncomfortably long time, before it unravels itself from the sticky web and launches itself skybound again like a huge dirty great fly. This remains a seriously impressive record.

30. The Truth - Playground (Illegal)

Peak position: 30

The Truth were one of those strange early eighties major label signed acts who felt neither muckling nor mickling, with one foot in the mod revival, another in New Wave, then some occasional spare prop legs in areas such as classic rock and Motown, all while keeping one eye on the Sunday pop parade. 

The approach gifted them two minor Top 40 hits, "Confusion (Hits Us Everytime)" and "Step In The Right Direction", the latter of which sounded like something Paul Weller might have rubber stamped for his fledgling Respond label. After that promising start, though, the launchpad was proven to be unstable, and no further hits were forthcoming. They found themselves booted off WEA and picked up by Miles Copeland's Illegal label for this single, which pushes the guitars up in the mix and makes them sound like angrier young men, but apart from that doesn't really do enough to restore their status.

They would later get some attention in the USA for their 1987 single "Weapons of Love" which managed an impressive Number 65 on the Billboard charts (no joke - that's great going for a band who were in danger of being totally forgotten) but their cultural legacy has been perhaps undeservedly muted (though the less said about their 1989 cover of "God Gave Rock and Roll To You" the better).

Week Two

17. Red Guitars - Be With Me (One Way)

Peak position: 4

The group's final release before naffing off to sign to Virgin, "Be With Me" is a strangely gentle farewell to the indie sector, all soulful crooning, atmospheric instrumentation, tasteful solos, and not a great deal of the adventure that was apparent in the band's previous singles. They were unquestionably at their best when fewer pairs of eyes were on them; "Be With Me" feels like a case of a group deciding they had to show their radio-friendly side for the sake of getting the rent paid. I'm willing to excuse musicians for that in my weary old age, having watched many of my friends dealing with the harsher economic realities of life, but that doesn't mean I don't still feel disappointed when it happens. 

19. The X-Men – Spiral Girl (Creation)

Peak position: 18

The X-Men's final release for Creation before Alan McGee had a big purge of the label's roster and left them turfed out on to the cruel streets of Hackney. They never did release another new record. Oddly, this is also a rare example of an indie chart record which doesn't seem to have made its way on to the usual streaming channels either, and has no presence on YouTube. If anyone can help with that, I'd be grateful.

[update - thanks to reader Seannie for digging the below up]

60. Cocteau Twins - Aikea-Guinea (4AD)

One week at number one on w/e 13th April 1985

I sense I'm going to have problems continually finding new ways of talking about the Cocteau Twins; their progression was almost abnormally linear. Most groups have fumbles or falls, suffer dramas, try new styles on for size, accidentally upset everyone with a vile comment, or even strive to impress their record company and bank managers with an attempt at an obvious crossover hit. The Cocteau Twins did none of those things - they just remained confidently in their own lane, steadily getting more effective at just being themselves.

“Aikea-Guinea” is another example of how enviously skilled they were at crafting soundscapes which, while bereft of intelligible lyrical meaning, evoke unexpected memories and emotions. I didn’t actually know that the track was apparently named after the colloquialism for a seashell in Scotland, which makes my refreshed response to it interesting – about a minute in, I was suddenly visualising myself, aged four, ambling clumsily along Bournemouth beach, slightly overwhelmed by the vast emptiness of it all but comforted by the melody.

The track feels surrounded by aerosol mist and spray, swirling and skying around Liz Fraser’s breathy and ecstatic delivery, with only Simon Raymonde’s basic, plodding bassline acting as a worldly anchor. The overall effect is like being guided by a motherly hand, Fraser insisting that while it might seem foreboding, this new landscape is both beautiful and safe – the melodic reassurance is offered immediately after each ambitious run of vocal skydiving. In terms of production and arrangement, it’s stunning; there may be have been other similarly adventurous and purposeful pieces of indie studio work out there in 1985, but if there were, I’ve come across no evidence of them so far.

The rest of the EP is fresh to me, but doesn’t really hit the same highs, either vocally or in terms of effectiveness. “Kookaburra” is much more leaden and repetitive, while “Quisquose” interchanges disquieting wailing with thudding piano lines and a chorus which sounds the closest to Kate Bush the group ever got.

Final track “Rococo” sounds the most futuristic of the bunch, pushing sounds out of guitar effects pedals that sound incredibly prescient; this is shoegazing in all but name. For all that, though, its unwavering commitment to a very simple melodic idea means its appeal wanes slightly for me before its natural end.

59. The Smiths - Shakespeare's Sister (Rough Trade)

One week at number one on w/e 6th April 1985

You have to be careful not to wholly trust your own memory - it can play tricks on you, twisting facts into new narratives for no discernable reason. This week, for instance, I misremembered Belle and Sebastian’s “chartbreaker” “Legal Man” as a number 9 hit, then realised through cross-checking with Wikipedia and other sources that I’d confused it with John Otway’s fanbase driven smash “Bunsen Burner”. A weird thing to do as, beyond the fact that both acts have excessively devoted fans, they otherwise have little in common.

Likewise, I had “Shakespeare’s Sister” filed in my mind as The Smiths first flop since “Hand In Glove”, which is also utterly wrong; the reference books prove it was a modest number 26 hit, and that their first disappointment came later. In this case, though, it’s easy to hear why my brain reshuffled the facts around and punished this single with an imaginary non-top 40 placing.

My associations with The Smiths have been ongoing throughout my life. Most of my friends love them. My wife was, for a long period, obsessed with them. I’ve been taken along to club nights that play nothing but Smiths singles, and been around people’s houses and listened to Smiths mixtapes over dinner. I never shared the fanaticism any of these people had, but their ideas of what made the group matter, and where their strong points lay, became the backbone of my understanding. When you’re not hopelessly devoted to a group yourself, you take your cues from the fans around you, the ones who have put in the studious graft with passion.

In all my life, I think I’ve involuntarily heard “Shakespeare’s Sister” a mere handful of times. It’s the Smiths single no-one dances to and nobody I met ever cross-analysed or had pegged as their "one". Listening back to it again for the first time in years, it’s also amazing how slight it is compared to their other singles so far. The shuffling rockabilly rhythm feels more akin to the Brilliant Corners or even The Meteors, while Morrissey wails about suicide and throwing himself down on the “rocks below”. It feels like more of a tantrum than a song, the non-chorus of “Oh let me go!” intervening at numerous points to act as a brief bit of respite rather than a hook. Beyond the mysteriously tranquil instrumental interlude, the song just scrabbles its way up some jagged scree on a steep slope, occasionally losing its grip or catching its breath, then starting up all over again.

Morrissey has made it clear that it was inspired by a concept in Virginia Woolf’s “A Room Of One’s Own”, where the writer theorised that if Shakespeare had an equally talented sister, she would have been equally mistreated by her parents and society and forced to live a dissatisfied and mentally anguished life. What we’re hearing, then, is the sound of that torment; a retro rock and roll tantrum, a scramble of malcontent, a gibbering fit which never quite settles down enough to make its lyrical ideas coherent. In fact, in places the lyrics feel rather random and almost baffling - over the years I’ve had a total failure of imagination about the final lines “I thought that if you had an acoustic guitar/ it meant you were a protest singer”, and I still can’t understand why it's relevant now; if it turns out that Morrissey half-inched them from another source and that book or article would hold the key to their relevance and meaning, I wouldn’t be at all surprised, but nothing seems to have turned up so far.

57b. Jesus & Mary Chain - Upside Down (Creation)

 

Further 3 weeks at number one from w/e 16th March 1985

It's been a while since we've seen an old number one boomeranging back up to the top again, and I'm actually relieved about that - I dislike the way that kind of repetition messes up the narrative of the blog. Still, the facts cannot be argued with, and while The Smiths "How Soon Is Now" was a track with only a feeble grip at the top and a modest toehold in the official charts, "Upside Down" remained a curiosity to casual buyers wandering into Rough Trade. The continued Mary Chain hype kept sales steady, and as soon as The Smiths showed any signs of weakness, the Reid brothers reclaimed their crown again. 

Resting warily beneath them were this lot, who didn't really offer much of a threat.

Week One

22. Balaam And The Angel - Love Me (Chapter 22)

Peak position: 9

With a crash, a smash and a despondent but insistent reverberating guitar riff, "Love Me" cemented Balaam And The Angel's early reputation as an exciting new goth rock act. Sadly, it bears no relation to the parodical Dudley Moore track of the same name, though it does holler as loudly at times - instead, it advises children to follow their instincts, ignore hate, and find their kinfolk. Fair advice from the Balaams, really, offering the kind of hopeful thinking very few goth acts managed.

27.Billy Bragg - Between The Wars (Go! Discs)

Peak position: 27

"Marketed by Chrysalis Records" is clearly written on the back of the sleeve for this one, but in their new 1985 welcoming spirit, the NME let it in the indie charts for one week anyway. 

Stunning how much "Between The Wars" sounds even more stripped bare and underproduced than almost anything else we're discussing today, though. You could be forgiven for thinking this came out on Bluurgh Records; Bragg's honking vocals and the abrasive clang of his guitar sound bare and ragged. Nor is the lyrical content a million miles off the most politicised single on Crass Records, it's just that Bragg has more folk poetry and grandeur at his heart, despite the sonic evidence to the contrary - this is a pro-union song and a prayer for the return of more open and charitable times against the cynicism of Thatcherism, rather than a war cry to kill the rich. 

If there's one thing Bragg gets which the anarcho-punks of the era didn't, it's that sometimes you have to offer your downtrodden audience a message of unity and solidarity as well as screaming for a possible bloody revolution. "Between The Wars" is perhaps a bit too despairing to offer them everything they needed in the hopelessness of 1985, but one picket line anthem is better than none. 

28. D.O.A. - Don't Turn Yer Back (On Desperate Times): The John Peel Session (Alternative Tentacles)

Peak position: 19

29. Severed Heads​ - Goodbye Tonsils (Ink)

Peak position: 29

Australian industrial duo who specialised in synth rackets, audio junk cut-ups from film and television and an ongoing fascination with the perverse and repellant. Much of their work sounds slightly too cluttered and basic to truly surprise casual listeners in 2025, but at the time, "Goodbye Tonsils" felt inventive, threatening and strange. 

30. Rabbi Joseph Gordon - Competition (Bam Caruso)

Peak position: 30

Julian Cope masquerading as a garage rock rabbi, presumably for reasons of career slump boredom and general mischief. There's an argument to be made for "Competition" injecting a sense of purpose back into his life again, though - the road away from Mercury Records and towards Island and further Top 40 success was long at this point, but the abandonment of the introspective psychedelia of "Fried" and towards hard-hitting garage Kingsmenisms possibly started here. 

This isn't to say that "Competition" is in any way essential; it's as likeable but also as throwaway as any genuine garage obscurity you're likely to hear this month. So far as Cope was concerned, though, mission accomplished.

Week Two

9. Conflict - This Is Not Enough Stand Up And F*ucking Fight (Mortarhate)

Peak position: 3

Conflict had a fine way with snappy and abusive single and album titles - this one and "Only Stupid Bastards Help EMI" pop into my head all the time.

"This Is Not Enough" is just over two minutes of agitated noise, grinding guitars and lyrics which veer towards the incomprehensible throughout the anger, but you can guess what it is they're generally on about, and you're seldom far from wrong. Like a lorryload of spare gear boxes and biscuit tins being thrown into a thresher.