86. New Order - State Of The Nation (Factory)

Number one for four weeks from 27th September 1986

I don’t often delve into other people’s blogs or forum posts while researching for this site, purely because I don’t want to be unduly influenced by other people’s takes on these records. For “State Of The Nation”, though, I found myself sufficiently perplexed to want to scout around. It sometimes feels as if it’s the serviceable New Order single nobody has a strong opinion on one way or the other, their equivalent of “Lady Madonna” or “Heart” (cue the inevitable complaints from Beatles or Pet Shop Boys fans).

I uncovered nothing much at all during my scouting mission, apart from a few forum posts asking “Why does everybody hate ‘State of the Nation’?” during which nobody replied with anything negative at all, only expressing the view that they quite liked it. No-one seemed particularly compelled to jump in and scream that it was a blight on New Order’s catalogue, which made sense to me (I wasn’t previously aware that it was supposed to be).

Then I went over to my Last.fm profile to see how often I’d played it, and was a little bit surprised to see that it was my tenth most listened to New Order track – amazing since I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d bothered (if anyone cares, it’s marginally ahead of “True Faith”, “Perfect Kiss” and “Regret”, all singles I could have sworn I’ve spent more time with). Obviously the views of a few Internet randoms and my own listening habits are not a precise scientific study, but it does feel as if “State” – New Order’s seventh indie number one – has been strangely neglected, rarely (if ever) played by the group live since its year of release and allowed to drift into the background.

This is peculiar. Musically speaking, “State Of The Nation” is an enticing, though admittedly never quite exciting, mix of sweet and sour. The keyboard lines are filled with exotic pan flute noises while the guitars are distorted and scraping, sounding like a hailstorm falling on abandoned sheet metal. Rhythms twitch beneath all this, jitterbugging almost threateningly, and throughout the full six-and-a-half minutes on the twelve inch, they manage to stretch what seem like quite limited ideas out into interesting new shapes and destinations; say what you want about New Order but they were unbelievably bloody good at writing epic pop songs. Whereas most groups start to dawdle and repeat themselves after the third minute, they’re still bursting with fresh ideas in double that time.

The single seems to pick up the most criticism for its lyrics, and deservedly so. Sumner here feels as if he's delivering guide vocals camouflaged as social commentary; a dirty trick to play on the neurotic mid-eighties public. “My brother said that he was dead/ I saw his face and shook my head” he sings, almost disappointed rather than upset by the fact that his sibling was either literally or metaphorically deceased. “The state of the nation/ that’s holding our salvation” he informs us, before telling us it’s also “causing deprivation” (I always swear he sneaks “death inflation” in there somewhere as well, but that’s possibly just a long-standing misheard lyric of mine).

71/72 - Cocteau Twins - Tiny Dynamine/ Echoes In A Shallow Bay (4AD)

Tiny Dynamine – number one for one week on w/e 7th December 1985

Echoes – number one for seven weeks from w/e 14th December 1985

Tiny Dynamine – number one again for one week from w/e 1st February 1986

Echoes – number one again for one week from w/e 8th February 1986

My Mum was idly browsing through the charts in my copy of Record Mirror in 1985 – uncharacteristic behaviour for her, but you’ll have to trust me on this one – and kept muttering the same group’s name as she went through the indie section. “Cocteau Twins” she murmured. “And there they are again. And again. And again. David, do you know this group? I’ve never heard of them but they’re all over these charts in here. They’re doing very well”.

Sometimes flippant comments made by people who aren’t invested in a band or genre reveal truths, and indeed, the Cocteaus were an utterly unshiftable force in alternative music in 1985. Unlike the Morrisseys, McCullochs and (Robert) Smiths of that world, though, their presence was often only felt through mentions in the music press, plays on evening radio, and their largely unintentional farming of the indie listings. Their records frequently slowly drifted around both the singles and album charts, gumming up the works and leaving long, murky pastel trails.

The absolute peak of this phenomenon occurred at the end of 1985, when 4AD saw fit to release two of their EPs in quick succession. Both “Tiny Dynamine” and “Echoes In A Shallow Bay” were recorded in short order as the group tested the facilities of their new recording studio, producing results they felt were good enough for public consumption in the process. The two records were not particularly stylistically distinct and could easily have been mashed together to create a mini-LP without losing any coherence, and history doesn’t record why the EP approach was taken instead.

Even if you didn’t already know that the songs featured here began life in a laboratory-like, testing environment, it becomes clear that something fresh is afoot almost immediately. Whereas previous Cocteaus singles had a sense of openness and vastness, particularly their previous release “Aikea-Guinea”, with both these records you feel – or at least I feel (never assume!) - as if a glass dome is being pulled over the group. The production begins to take on a radiated indoor warmth as thick basslines meet airy but artificial sounding washes. It’s hardly Dire Straits, but there’s a precision and slickness to the sound which causes you to imagine wandering around an empty shopping mall where only brief glimpses of natural light are seen through occasional tiny windows on the edges. The rest is strip lights, potted plants and tasteful muted colours.

You can hear this particularly strongly on tracks like “Pale Clouded White” on “Echoes”, where the ambient whine of treated guitars constantly linger in the background like the gentle echo of unoiled machinery, or on “Great Spangled Fritillary” where the background instruments approximate creaks, clicks, groans and distant foghorn blasts rather than providing any traditional anchor. In a sense, this is industrial music, but it sounds nothing like Foetus. Instead, it cuddles up to the machinery, accepting it as a tool which can be something other than a weapon.

It’s not as if “Tiny Dynamine” offers anything vastly different. The epitome of the phenomenon can possibly be found on there first, the instrumental “Ribbed and Veined” offering artificial cricket clicks alongside hazy muzak hums, occasional touches of wow and flutter, and a steady, unchallenging backbeat. If anything, this track almost sounds close to the modern idea of Vaporwave, where relaxing, smooth melodies meet cavernous echoes and badly recalled memories of the wonders of the eighties indoor shopping centre; it’s just that while those songs generally veer towards the bright and even groovy, “Ribbed and Veined” is closer to the music you hear in a jammed elevator just as the place is due to close for the evening; a gentle, unobtrusive thing wobbling its way towards the unintentionally nightmarish. Nor is the Cocteau’s music ever as straightforward as some dork pushing a few Garageband effects buttons over a loop of an instrumental break from some dinner party soul album.

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]