83. The Mission - Garden of Delight/ Like A Hurricane (Chapter 22)

One week at number one on 2nd August 1986

Two weeks after they vacated the indie number one spot with “Serpent’s Kiss”, The Mission returned again with this huge sounding double A-side. Rather than offering us further lumps of paisley rock, both “Garden” and “Hurricane” feel like wordy, skyscraping resignation letters to the independent sector from its latest breakout talent.

Listening to these again feels odd. While they were generally applauded by critics in a lukewarm fashion, The Mission were never given universal acclaim. There have also been very few revisions to that view since, meaning that almost all non-genre based lists outlining the best music of the eighties and nineties fail to mention their name. Subsequently, you find yourself stunned when revisiting their sudden rush of cult fame in 1986, which delivered two Top 75 singles on a relatively unestablished indie label (with this one even creeping into the top fifty). Viewing their promo video for “Serpent’s Kiss” recently, I was struck by just how playful it was, but also how much the band’s confidence over-rode the indie budget – The Stone Roses may have been arrogant sods, but their bleached-out cheapo promos didn’t contain even a grain of Wayne Hussey’s self-assuredness.

“Garden Of Delight” is the first single to really put that confidence across on vinyl. The Mission here don’t sound ‘indie’, they sound massive. Once again, Hussey tries to set himself up as the goth scene’s resident poet - “Revelation is laid, and reflects/ on the windswept liquid mirror/ of this breathless whirl, this happy death/ this elegance and charm” he declares, doubtless penning the words in elaborate, curvy purple ink – but rather than backing off uncertainly, the band around him rise to such towering declarations with the confidence of city stockbrokers. In particular, guitarist Simon Hinkler puts in another brilliant performance of complex jangles followed by uncertain, ascending tension (there’s a weird parallel universe somewhere where he never left Pulp, and they ended up making these noises instead).

For all that, though, it still sounds more like a music business calling card than an obvious single to my ears; the group offering something because it sounds big and important rather than a good candidate for a standalone 45. The inflated nature of it makes it sound like something that would appear towards the end of side one of an album rather than anything else – an end to the First Act and a sop to any wavering listeners assuring them that bigger, grander tunes were still to come.

The other A-side, a cover of “Like A Hurricane”, was given less airtime so far as I can recall, and is more along the lines you would expect, albeit having the kind of production you would anticipate from an established, successful American performer or group on their fifth or sixth album (and I did initially think Hussey was singing “You are like a hurricane/ there’s cum in your eye” rather than “calm”). Between its moments of arena pretension, though, there’s a gothic thunder in the basslines and drum patterns and Hinkler’s guitarwork moves from jangle to solid soloing and back again, acting as the focal point of interest when Hussey’s hollering gets a bit much.

For all that, I have to confess that I don’t really enjoy either side all that much. They did the job and The Mission were releasing records on a well-funded major label before the year was up, but there’s something about their grandness which I find cold and difficult, as if the group are high up on a platform, out of my eyeline and away from my lived reality, thundering on about the elements, decadence and death... but then again, I never was the type to be enticed by either aspiring Rock Gods or actual ones. 

The group clearly were, though. Following the release of this single, they became a major cult act and then, with their John Paul Jones produced number two album “Children” in 1988, moved extremely close to becoming the serious international mega-rock act “Garden Of Delight” seems to hint towards; no longer merely toying with Led Zeppelin imagery, they saw fit to get a member of that band to come in and guide them forwards.

Their appeal took a significant topple in the early nineties and by 1995 they were straight back to indieland again, Phonogram having lost patience with their big proposition. More of that when (and even if!) we get to that point, but it’s hard to resist quoting Andrew Mueller of Melody Maker’s review of their LP from that period, “Neverland” - “a stadium record that is never going to fill a theatre, a defiant gurgle on the way down the sinkhole”. Nine years is a bloody long time in rock music.

This ignores the fact that The Mission’s story prior to that point is actually a triumph, with large selling albums in Britain and significant, mid-chart cult sales abroad. The fact they’ve often been ignored in stories about eighties rock may be due to the fact that, even with the close calling “Tower Of Strength” on their side, they never produced a truly enormous anthem in the UK; indeed, they join the ignoble gang of bands who may have had scores of Top 40 hits, but never quite managed to edge into the top ten. 

82. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Singer (Mute)

Number one for one week on 26th July 1986

If anybody working for Columbia Records in 1968 thought Johnny Cash’s new track “The Folk Singer” had potential, they did little to invest in it. The big '68 hype where Cash was concerned was the release of his unprecedented “At Folsom Prison” live LP, where the man can be heard brewing up a storm while performing to a gaggle of assembled felons. The label were initially worried about the idea, fearing that it might cause Cash to lose some of his Christian audience, only for the album to become one of those near-perfect combinations of both quality and newsworthy novelty – something that almost marketed itself.

“Folsom Prison Blues” was released from the album as a single, and an ordinary studio recording of “The Folk Singer”, co-written with Charles E Daniels, was chosen to sit on the flip. It might then have rested there largely unnoticed, but Burl Ives was quick to spot its mournful charms, recording it for his album “The Times They Are A-Changin’” in the same year, staying broadly faithful to the concept. It’s a wordy yet – on the surface – fairly simple tale of a forgotten singer who finds himself suddenly ignored by a public who once wanted to crowd and pester him with their admiration. The singer’s inability to adapt to his new empty environment is broached early on (“I pass a million houses but there is no place where I belong/ All I knew to give you was song after song after song”) with typical Cash-esque hints at his outsider status. Whoever the 'singer' is, you're left pretty convinced that there's nothing else he can usefully do with his life. 

It’s not clear whether Cash was worried about his own future when he recorded it, but it’s not unfair to speculate that he might at least have been looking over his shoulder at those whose careers had been less successful, acknowledging that in the music business, longevity is often a fluke, not a given. Speculation online is rife about who he might have been thinking about, but the candidates are numerous; the tale of talented musicians, appreciated briefly when their talent peaked and happened to align with the public’s tastes, then rapidly forgotten, was not new even in 1968.

Above that, though, there are hints towards the growing invisibility of the older person in society, the slick young buck with his fresh ideas being reduced to a husk. As he wanders through streets he may have once been chauffeured through wearing his old fashioned clothes, he suddenly finds no eyes being drawn in his direction in either condemnation or admiration. His rebellion has become meaningless, and his only hope is that the children of the future reappraise his efforts – a problem that most creative people are left to desperately confront. 

The original arrangement is simple and nigh-on perfect, greeting the singer’s fate with subtle arrangements and gorgeous downwards guitar twangs, which might be why Burl Ives wasn’t tempted to tamper with it much. Glen Campbell, on the other hand, took the flipside and exposed it to peculiar degrees of sunshine in 1970 – his version is a sweet yet daring finger-picked, bitter-sweet melody, “the singer” still singing his heart out rather than moping and dragging his heels.

Nick Cave’s version in 1986 was somewhat unexpected, but takes the cautious Ives approach of “don’t fuck with a classic” rather than the more radical Campbell move. So similar is it, in fact, that the only major difference is that Cave throws in the f word towards the end, something even Cash would never have considered in ‘68. It makes “the singer” seem threatening, a Grim Reaper character pointing his finger at the comfortable and the ignorant, rather than a completely defeated outsider. Cave makes you think the singer will be back, if not due to reappraisal, then perhaps on the headline news for some act of public indecency. It shifts the tone of the work slightly, but not enough to make it feel like an overhaul.

“The Singer” was released at a time when Cave appeared to be repositioning himself as a performer. His earlier work with The Birthday Party was demented, raucous and deliberately niche – punk rock at its loudest and most unrelenting. Two minutes spent listening to a Birthday Party track could feel strangely exhausting, and in his public’s mind Cave was a ferocious performer and unpredictable loose cannon. Once that group ceased to be, the Bad Seeds were formed and his moves became more measured (though often no less ghoulish).

80b. The Mission - Serpent's Kiss (Chapter 22)

Two further weeks at number one from 12th July 1986

It's been awhile since we've seen a rebound number one on the NME Indie listings, but if you were settling comfortably in your seat expecting not to be interrupted again, you reckoned without the enduring popularity of "Serpent's Kiss". As soon as the already battle-weary "Almost Prayed" plummeted from the number one position, Hussey and co were ready to take back the throne again for a whole fortnight. 

As always, the only relevant question to ask at this point is "What was happening lower down the charts, then?"

Week One

13. Bogshed - Morning Sir! (Help Yourself)

Peak position: 4

Well, Bogshed pushed forward one of their best known singles for a start off. "Morning Sir!" is a delight and a curiosity in that it's one of the biggest and strangest hooks the indie chart saw in 1986, but the group lost none of their downright provocative oddness as a result. The chorus of "Morning Sir!" will stay in your brain for the rest of this week - indeed, I even thought about making it my mobile's alarm sound for a bit - but that doesn't stop the song as a whole from sounding warped, detuned, scuffed and discourteously kicked around. 

This is like modern-day skiffle if it were composed by village outcasts rather than handsome and clean-cut kids in Soho coffee bars which, in case you need telling, is a good thing. Suck on that, Terry and Gerry. 

20. Age Of Chance – The Twilight World Of Sonic Disco (Riot Bible)

Peak position: 20

The Age of Chance were rapidly getting closer to becoming one of the more "important" C86 acts, but at this stage, "Motor City" off the "Twilight World" EP shows no signs of them budging from their own tinny and uncompromising groove - it's stark, harsh and devilish, and as Steven E repeatedly urges "If you can get through my wall of sound" beneath the metallic beatings, it's hard not to hear it as a direct challenge to you, the listener. 

28. The Mekons - Hello Cruel World (Sin)

Peak position: 20

29. Hawkwind - Silver Machine (Samurai)

Peak position: 29

Week Two

14. The Creepers - Baby's On Fire (In Tape)

Peak position: 6

 

Marc Riley and his cohorts covering Brian Eno must have raised a few eyebrows in the old Fall camp at the time, with Mark E Smith doubtless opining that he was right to sack him. Nonetheless, in much the same way that his original group used cover versions as templates to scrawl their own impenetrable avant doodles over, The Creepers rip "Baby's On Fire" to pieces, making it somehow feel even more menacing as a caterwaul of sound builds up steadily with each instrumental break.

81. Weather Prophets - Almost Prayed (Creation)

One week at number one on 5th July 1986

To casual viewers of the indie charts and non-readers of the NME or Melody Maker, The Weather Prophets must have seemed like a strange and sudden flash on the scene; that try-hard band name conjuring up images of your best friend’s cousin’s group who were signed to Creation on one of Alan McGee’s whims. The truth is somewhat different. The Weather Prophets were actually formed following the messy end of The Loft, a promising group whose two singles, “Why Does The Rain” and “Up The Hill And Down The Slope” are still remembered fondly (and playlisted heavily) by those who know their mid-eighties indie.

Despite the fact he had an established platform to build on, it wouldn’t be unfair to suggest that the group’s lead singer Pete Astor was lucky, however. Fate seemed to slap him encouragingly on his leather trousered arse wherever he went in the mid-eighties. In 1984 Janice Long, at this point presenting an early evening show on Radio One, selected their single “Why Does The Rain” as one of her three favourite singles of the year, an unexpected boost for both the band and a tiny, cash-strapped label like Creation. Intriguingly, I’ve also never met anyone else who genuinely believes it to be in the top three best records released that year – but if you’re going to win those kind of wild plaudits with anyone, a national radio DJ is surely your best outcome.

Then in 1985, journalist Danny Kelly was at a football match where he met Peter Hadfield, the manager of Terry Hall’s new group The Colourfield. Kelly enthused about The Loft, and Hadfield wondered if they might be available to support his group on a major venue tour of the UK. No money changed hands, and sweet and simple arrangements were made to give The Loft a lift on to the professional circuit. As anyone who has ever been in a band will tell you, things seldom happen this easily without meetings, pluggers and expensive tour budgets being involved.

Despite all this, Astor was unhappy, feeling as if he had little in common with the rest of his group and mumbling to McGee and other parties that he didn’t see them as a long-term proposition. He eventually split them up live on stage at the Hammersmith Palais while supporting the Colourfield, a move some deemed legendary and others strangely cold. Vague insults were directed at other band members, and the whole thing drew to a messy close – two singles and endless love and good fortune later, the group were no more.

Astor decided before they even split that The Weather Prophets sounded like a good name for his next group, and they were up and running relatively swiftly, recording a radio session for the ever enthusiastic Janice Long before a single note was captured on vinyl. “Almost Prayed” featured on that debut session and McGee felt strongly it should be their first single, but numerous attempts to re-record it at other studios ended unsatisfactorily, with the group failing to capture the snap and spontaneity of the BBC session. Eventually, all concerned had to reluctantly lease the recording from the BBC for commercial release, though the text on the rear of the sleeve informing you of the fact is written in such a tiny font you might miss it.

There’s a simple reason both Creation and the band were a bit ashamed of this step. BBC sessions often differ from the finished product in many ways, but are usually more stripped back and basic. Fans of bands will often nudge those not in the know and tell them that actually, the John Peel session version of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” has a bite the single version didn’t, or that Microdisney’s Peel Session versions of the “Crooked Mile” era material punch more forcefully than the Lenny Kaye produced LP. Despite this, the suggestion that any polished, professional recording following a session simply wasn’t as good as the BBC’s quick efforts would be embarrassing for any up-and-coming band, especially one the major labels were keeping a close eye on. It carries suggestions of amateurism and an inability to hold it together as soon as the grown-ups leave the room.

The Weather Prophets would eventually re-record “Almost Prayed” for their debut major label album “Mayflower”, and sure enough, even with WEA’s money and time being spent on it, it remains feeble by comparison, as if the group have been asked to imagine the song being covered by Big Country. So what did producer Barry Andrews (no relation to the ex-XTC member) get right at Maida Vale that everyone else got wrong?

I wasn’t there obviously, but my suspicion is that “Almost Prayed” is one of those songs which gets duller, rather than shinier, the more you scrub it up. In its BBC form, it’s a thing of beauty, three minutes of simple indie-pop which jangles and thumps through Astor’s angst about the fluidity and unpredictability of life; the phrase “You can never go home again” given its best representation on 45. The song’s fuel comes from the almost folky simplicity of its hooks (you can imagine “I almost prayed” being murmured repeatedly at a folk night) and its directness. Place a mid-eighties production over that, and you’re smothering the track in padding when its bare bones need to be visible. Here is a song, after all, with limited chord structures and a simple swing which veers close to something approaching pop, but is ultimately too melancholy – it’s the sound of damp, drizzly nights spent by the coast attempting thought-walks, an introvert’s basic whistling tune. It’s not a daring, bold statement, which is what the band probably wanted their debut single to be, but it is strangely beautiful, which is all that matters in the long term.

So here it is... Merry Christmas

 

This will be the last blog entry until the absolute tail end of December, so myself (and Wayne Hussey and Noddy Holder above) would like to wish you a Merry Christmas. Thanks for reading the blog and I hope our journey from 1983 through to the middle of 1986 has been a pleasurable one - we started by dining on Goth Rock and the final specks of meat on the Oi! carcass, and have finished on Goth Rock, not by design, but by sheer luck... and if you thought Wayne Hussey wasn't remotely Christmassy, you'd obviously forgotten about the Metal Gurus above. Serendipity is our friend this Yuletide. 

I'm hugely grateful for everyone who has stuck around reading this year - you've been a loyal audience with barely any sign of dropping away - but this is still a fairly niche, obscure blog and it could really use a lift. If you like it and want to share the joy on social media, or better still want to link back to it from your own site, I'd really appreciate it. I do this for pleasure rather than any attempt to build a profile, but nonetheless having an influx of new readers would definitely spur me on throughout 2026.

At this risk of sounding like I'm doing an Alan Partridge/ Noel Edmonds styled address, there have been a small number of people over the last year who haven't enjoyed this blog, but (to my relief) almost all of the criticisms were pre-empted by the FAQ when I launched. Of course, nobody reads FAQs, so it's worth reiterating the fact that this blog can never function as a fansite. If you're a particular fan of a band or artist being covered, there may be moments when it gets frustrating because it feels as if I'm stating the obvious or even moving towards cliches, but that's for the benefit of all the people out there (non-UK readers in particular) who may never have heard a note of their work and just need some basic scene-setting. Once we've got that out of the way, I try, to the best of my ability, to try and find something new to say. Of course, if your favourite group didn't ever hit the Indie Number One spot, then you're really stuck in the land of pith (this pains me sometimes as well; I'd like to have written more about Felt and The Fall in particular, but neither group ever reached the top spot in the NME rundown). 

Here's a thought, though - in 2026, why not start your own blog? It's a dying hobby, but in these challenging times the world needs more enthusiasm and passion, in whatever form it comes. Be the change you want to see and give us all a better year. I want more things to read! See you again soon.