On Returning...
The Jesus & Mary Chain slapped rock ‘n’ roll’s fattening face for the first time at the end of 1984, with debut single Upside Down backed by a searing take on Syd Barrett’s Vegetable Man. More blows followed through 1985, via Never Understand/Suck, and the seminal Psychocandy LP, released on Blanco Y Negro towards the end of the year. They managed to marry waves of white noise/feedback with a beguilingly dulcet vocal. Like Doug Yule singing Sister Ray. Live, Bobby Gillespie’s simple beats were meted on two drums, Mo Tucker style, and with no concessions to pop pleasantries, the band played sets between 10 and 20 minutes long to support the record. The waiting, the booze and the duration incited factions in the audience, much to the joy of the tabloids, which had long since touted a ‘Down with this sort of thing’ approach. The Mary Chain, we were informed, ‘are the new Sex Pistols’. In truth though, they were a product absolutely of their own imagination and influences. William and Jim Reid, the only members there for the duration, learned a few lessons from the wily SEX magnate, but there was no Malcolm McLaren puppeteer in Glasgow where the band came to fruition. And the Velvet Underground, the Beach Boys and The Shangri-Las were every bit as important to the Mary Chain as punk rock.
Psychocandy might be best remembered in its original vinyl shape and form. Its attitude and abandon (still) spits in the face of polish and bluster. But then you get 44 tracks here, the band’s complete Peel Sessions among them, along with unique film footage of the famous North London Poly riot, some equally surly and amusing interviews, and the 1985 video collection too. Which is a persuasive argument to the contrary.
Back in the day, people were starting to go to Mary Chain gigs for a fight as much as anything else, and after riding the storm for a while, the band locked themselves away to work up Darklands. Shorn of Gillespie’s beats after he’d been forced to choose between a band he loved, and Primal Scream, the Reid’s reigned in their anarchy. If Psychocandy is Rusty James in Coppola’s Rumblefish, a hot headed, impressionistic youngster, then Darklands is his brother, the Motorcycle Boy, who’s seen it all, and has developed a sense of what’s worth fighting for. It’s a wonderfully maudlin Sunday morning/evening record, with no traces of what critics had as Mary Chain trademarks. The reissue comes with much of 1988’s Barbed Wire Kisses B-Sides/outtakes compilation, a sought after Janice Long session and the caustic Some Candy Talking EP.
Automatic was next, an album that saw the band stripped even further back, with the guitar kicking in again, and a drum machine in support. It didn’t fare too well commercially, but stands up strong in retrospect. And it comes packaged with the Sidewalking EP. The title track, with its thuggish bass and sneering vocal, was the single of 1988 for those not swept up in the dance scene. I remember an interviewer at the time asking Jim Reid if the song title betrayed the band’s Americanisation. “Well we couldn’t really call it Pavementing could we?” the singer deadpanned. It still sounds absolutely up there too, nearly 25 years later.
Released in 1993, Honey’s Dead sounded like the record the Mary Chain might have made in 1986, if they hadn’t been tailed by that violent Psychocandy shadow. The feedback returned, albeit to a lesser extent, and so did the irreverence. It spawned a ?Top 10 single and, coming post-‘grunge’, won the band a bunch of new fans on both sides of the Atlantic. Here, it also features the Rollercoaster EP, live footage from a Brixton Academy show, and more besides.
These reissues are all encompassing, and Stoned & Dethroned, envisaged as an acoustic record, but emerging with some plugs in, is (still) the one that stops short of what had come before. In fact, the extras in the package work harder. Snakedriver, from The Crow soundtrack, is on all three discs, completely justifiably, there’s a radio interview, a take on The Cramps' New Kind Of Kick and a complete 1995 live set too. Alongside the promo videos, the DVD has a 1993 appearance on Later with Jools Holland, and four studio performances shot for MTV.
Rock ‘n’ Roll is rife with sibling fallout, from The Kinks and The Beach Boys to The Replacements to Oasis. By the mid 1990s, the Reids too were barely talking. They made the last LP, Munki, largely independent of each other. Bookended by Jim’s I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll and William’s I Hate Rock ‘n’ Roll, making it quite easy to see the ‘musical differences’, it’s a bit Darklands on an amphetamine binge. And while it was harder to find a context for the record at the time, it deserved more time than the critics, and the fans, were prepared to give it. Among the extras is a set from the Electric Ballroom in 1998. I remember stumbling into the end of that show, just about their last in the capital, on the back of a very disunited Fall gig at Dingwalls…
The DVD features the previously unreleased promo videos for all the singles along with two songs performed on Later with Jools Holland, while the booklet has exclusive new interviews that tell the story of the band’s break-up.
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