Phony Beatlemania Has Bitten the Dust?
One American’s Invasion on Brit Pop
My musical tastes changed dramatically when I touched down at Heathrow in 1989
I disfavor lists without 1,000-word expositions. Such an exposition, I hope, provides subtext to the first 10 of 20 songs that crashed my Classic Rock Party from 1969 (suckling to the unsuckling in 1989.)
During this stage, I crafted “Mix Tapes” of Rock’s Greatest Hits on cassette tape, Volumes 1–10. It was the “Definitive” list. Objections to the “decrees” would merely be courted before my closed eyes as a mere courtesy. No, The Beatles had no song better than “A Day in the Life.” “Stairway to Heaven?” Need you to ask? And yes, “Kashmir” is better.
It was later, upon meeting, and liking, well, women — that Bruce Springsteen would shoot his way up the list. Sadly, he was a latecomer to the Classic Rock Bowne Party. Today, The Boss has remained in my Top 10.
Classic Rock Band #1 — or Band Zero — was Creedence Clearwater Revival. Steady streams of Fogerty from my dad nursed me when I was born in 1969 — and what a year to be born!
So consider my shock that other bands, not twenty years older or more, existed outside my Rock Prejudice Arrogance! This one upstart from Ireland, after all, declared that “You glorify the past while the future dries up.” Who wants to obey a Bono? How close in comedy is that to Bozo?
And then even this one song — “London Calling” from late 1979 — but really 1980 — had the audacity to declare, “Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust.” That song, in such a strong apocalyptic fashion, deeply disturbed me. (That album, now, by the way, gets more “play” time than Sgt. Pepper.) Just saying. It’s my favorite LP.
Btw, in the UK, phony has an “e” like “phoney.”
So when I touched down at Heathrow with my buddy Tim, a fellow worshipper of The Who, The Beatles, and Genesis, things started to change. The bartender in Bayswater, London declared that by default everyone loves The Beatles, but they know every song by heart, so why listen? There was so much other stuff out there.
What was the first thing two twenty-year-old Yanks did upon wandering the streets of London? Catch some pints!
So we paid him with that Mickey Mouse Money with colors and artists, and started listening to London radio and talking to the “people.” I was on a college class trip — getting college credit for my English major — and Tim came with me for the adventure and maybe even the women.
Adventure, yes. Women — well, no.
Upon returning to “The States,” I immediately declared I would be leaving “The States” to study abroad in the fall of 1990. I would travel the Continent in The Grand Tour Fashion of Shelley and Byron, and fully immerse myself in studies and music and, maybe, even — British lasses.
And it happened.
So, five hundred words later, my story starts in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. It was the “shoegazer” scene, then — or really, the end. The “genre would use effects to create their sound and gaze down at their effects to see the effects settings.” (Thank you, Quora.)
But by 1990, the Madchester sound was in full effect. And I even had a flatmate from Manchester who introduced me to The Happy Mondays, Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, The Charlatans, UK, Joy Division, and my favorites, New Order and The Pet Shop Boys. Not all, of course, from Manchester. And don’t get me started on ManUnited.
(Aye, the band The Pet Shop Boys is so much better than “West End Girls.”)
The sounds permeated the club scene along the River Tyne and Big Market in the Old Town by the quay. And it’s there, walking quayside like a lonely emo boy, in emulation of Morrisey of The Smiths and Robert Smith of The Cure, that I found a new muse.
Madchester soon gave way to another wave of a British Invasion (Brit Pop) with the likes of Oasis — but that comes later when I’m back in The States and married and with Baby Madeline.
And that’s another essay.
Let’s say, alas, in 1990 — “Phony Beatlemania had bitten the dust.” Never doubt the greatness of Strummer and Jones of The Clash.
1. The La’s — “There She Goes” (31 October 1988)
My American friend, Josh, hated calling anything a “union. He was a Republican — and also a recovering addict. But he was cool and a poet. He was also good-looking which helped me in the Association. So when we went to the “Student Union” for the “club” scene, he would always bristle.
He was still a Classic Rocker. While he hung out drinking Newkie Brown by the barrel (Newcastle Brown), I was on the dance floor with Alex from Sheffield. It was to this song. She had ridiculously long blonde hair. She was pretty and shorter than I was — which on a good day I’m 5'7, especially in boots.
Whenever I hear this song now, frequently on my various mixes, I think of that blonde hair whipping back and forth.
Josh said it was obvious Alex liked me, but I was not obvious to anything — even The Hand of God slapping me “upside the head” — to borrow from Black English. Heck, rock legends stole from Black musicians, so —
In short, later, Alex and I had a Shakespearean Beatrice and Benedict verbal spat back at our flats with an entire audience laughing at America vs. UK differences. It was a fine time. And very funny. That should have been a clue to ask her out. But all I had were lines and songs and poems.
A clue — I had none.
2. EMF — “Unbelievable” (1 December 1990)
This came out when I was in Newcastle. Huge in the clubs! Big, also when I arrived back in the States on the once-great alternative radio station WDRE. What a station! It got me through college and graduate school — and kept me hip and cool.
If Classic Rock were by A-sides, Alternative Songs were B-Sides, but by 1994, the year I met Mary Jane, that wasn’t true anymore. Perhaps “Phony Beatlemania finally did bite the dust.”
This song, once again, brings me back. I never turn it off.
3. The Pet Shop Boys — “It’s Alright” (26 June 1989)
Full admission: I think I have every PSB album on CD. I courted my girlfriend Mary Jane in 1994 in my grad school apartment to “Behaviour,” still one of my favorite albums. Talk about “let’s do the time warp again.” And we were never “Being Boring” while together. We married in 1995. I’ve seen PSB at least twice in Philly. And my daughters Nancy and Madeline were raised on a steady diet of PSB, along with Fred Flintstone vitamins. In fact, Madeline this year got her bf Brian to like the song, “Sodom and Gomorrah.” And we have a video of the girls dancing to “Sexy Northerner” when they were 1 and 4. Good times. This sound started it off. And my buddy Alec Mento kept my adoration of PSB well-watered and full of nutrients and love.
4. Happy Mondays — “Step On” (November 27, 1990)
This album dropped when I was in Newcastle. I’m not sure where I picked it up (cassette tape), but I did play the shit out of it on the rather cheap stereo system I bought while abroad and then resold it at the same price to one of my flat buddies — Winston from Hong Kong. The song was hot in the clubs in Big Market and on The Boat across the River Tyne. A few songs stand out from Pills, Thrills & Bellyaches — like Kinky Afro — and whenever I hear these songs, well, I’m 21 all over again.
5. The Charlatans — “The Only One I Know” (September 1990)
With me, no band has had the longevity as PSB, as I still see them in concert and buy their CDs, but The Charlatans had to be my favorite band while abroad and even back stateside. The whole album is fantastic and worth buying. This, of course, was the hit.
“Sproston Green,” “Then,” “White Shirt,” and “You’re Not Really Well Are You” are also fantastic songs.
I recall back in the States, having The Charlatans blasting on Route 91 South from Quebec City with the windows down to keep me awake. It was late at night. My buddy Tim and I decided to hit Canada during a break, not realizing there would be two feet of snow in the province. There wasn’t as much in Montreal. It was a three-day whirlwind tour from South Jersey. Tim woke up, freezing, asking what the hell we were listening to. He was rather irritated and dead tired. He may have slipped in Genesis or Pete Townsend. That was fine, too. I made it back for work at The Holiday Inn.
“Weirdo” is another good song from another album.
6. James — “Laid” (November 1, 1993)
This hit just after I graduated from college and just before graduate school. It was my “lost” year, but this song helped. It didn’t help me get “laid,” let’s say, but music helped keep the blues and the loneliness away. The effects of the British Alternative still kept my speakers happy. It’s such a fun song. In this song, I hear the big Brit-pop bands coming — like Oasis and even, dare I say it, Muse.
When they sing — or DJs “edits” out — “She only comes when she’s on top,” I made a mental note of that for next time.
7. Cocteau Twins — “Lorelei” (November 1, 1984)
Can we call this band “shoegazer?” Or the canary in the coalmine of the 1980s Duran Duran sugar gum and mainstream pop? If there was such a thing as “college rock” in the UK, maybe the Cocteau Twins were like R.E.M. in 1983 with “Murmur.” Talk about atmospheric! A precursor to Radio Head?
8. Echo and the Bunnymen — “Lips Like Sugar” (August 1987)
I heard this song as a freshman in college in the States. I don’t recall what I thought. I probably heard it from my buddy Alec Mento or Dan Norbury, but I compared it to Creedence and just waved it away with my snobby hand. But not anymore. While in England, I heard the song quite frequently.
And that’s far from “Bayou Country.”
9. My Bloody Valentine — “You Made Me Realise” (8 August 1988)
One of the prototypes of the “shoegaze” sounds? Yes. Can I listen to this over and over now? No. But then it helped me understand the glories of the musical buffet — why settle for Chicken Parm Doors all the time? And when in a club or on that floating disco on the Tyne — a ship — with the music loud and the scene dark — this song can work in that atmosphere. One night, my mates went to a club. It was Tuesday. I ordered a pint of Boddington’s Ale — or something like that — but something was off. I asked Texas Ted and Josh. “What’s up, here?” And this was before 4 Non-Blondes. A great song, btw. Well, a guy with massively crooked teeth walked up to me and asked if he could buy me a drink.
We didn’t know it was “Gay Night.” I stayed long enough to finish the pint. Heck, ale is too good to finish but left. I have never had that experience before, and it made me empathize with women who must have this experience all the time.
Creepy guys hitting on you all of the time. Creeps — back off, man! Speaking of Creep, what a great song by Radio Head. I think of them as “Latter Day Shoegazers.”
10. The Jesus and the Mary Chain — “Head On” (November 1989)
This song brings me back from the atmospheric trance-sometimes-boredom of “shoegaze.” Does a song need to make me rock or dance? This song has the energy of The Ramones. Even the angst of Lou Reed. I love the lyric in the first verse:
I get an electric charge from you That second hand living, it just won’t do
Can I get an amen? That’s why I was in Newcastle. No second-hand living for me, mates. The chorus portrays so much of what I felt then, and even now sometimes:
Makes you want to feel, makes you want to try Makes you want to blow the stars from the sky I can’t stand up, I can’t cool down I can’t get my head off the ground
There’s that ironic line at the end. You’re so full of energy — like a jet fuel rocket — and yet — what? Stagnant at the launch pad?
Needless to say, coming back “Stateside,” I was a wanker, a tosser, and a royal pratt. I called my friends “mates,” an apartment a “flat,” a car hood a “bonnet,” a flashlight a “torch,” and I said “cheers” all of the time. I also went Cold Turkey on lager. Ales and stouts, man. It’s amazing that friends and family didn’t send me back to Britain on the QEII or British Airways.
Cheers, mates! Part II coming soon.
