Spacemaid - Supercool
1997 was quite a good year. Mark and Lard had the breakfast show, the Tories got booted out and the rise of the Scottish football team continued unabated. Also Spacemaid released ‘Supercool’, a sparkling piece of power pop/rock that disappeared quicker than Michael Xavier Portillo.
I first heard Spacemaid on the aforementioned Radio 1 show, when ‘Baby Come On’ was single of the week. Mark and Lard made a joke out of them being from Hull, which I didn’t get until I visited there years later. I suppose it’s like Airdrie, with a big bridge, and a million miles from the glam, trashy, lipgloss coated sound of the ‘maid. ‘Baby Come On’ was such a great single that I actually recorded it from the Radio, something I hadn’t done since the heady days of T’pau. Just as well I did, because the single (or album) was nowhere to be found. After the Radio 1 thing Spacemaid seemed to disappear, never to be heard from again.
Forward to 2003. Like the rest of the nation I was still caught up in the ‘Macarena’ craze, whirling like a dervish who shopped in Gap. But neatly ironed khakis and Latin beats left me unfulfilled. At night I’d wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train to Hull running through my head. I could still hear sex kitten Lonny Evans pleading with me:
Until that point I’d only used Ebay for buying incontinence pants (I’d wake with the sheets soaking wet most nights), but a quick search turned up a solitary copy of Supercool. I entered into a frenzied bidding war with ‘boringbeardy’ and eventually emerged triumphant for £3.75 + £1 p&p. I gave thanks to God and asked he make sure the postman didn’t steal the package.
I was ecstatic when Supercool was delivered, and must’ve listened to ‘Baby Come On’ for more than an hour, recalling those bygone days when I was thinner, smelled better and thought nothing of blatantly staring at a girl’s cleavage. I was apprehensive about listening to the rest of the album in case I’d been duped by the one good tune i.e. T’pau all over again. But Supercool is a stone cold classic. Spacemaid tread the thin line between Blondie and Transvision Vamp, with sneering attitude coupled to brash enthusiasm. ‘Girl Who Sold The World’ and ‘Beautiful Boys Beautiful Girls’ are absolute belters, and ‘I See Comets’ falls just short of the perfection offered by ‘Baby…’ They even take The Ramones to Hull and back with ‘Do You Remember Rock ‘n Roll Radio?’
So what happened to them? Perhaps promotion or distribution were problems, but let us remember the late 90’s era. Although they were pop, Spacemaid weren’t Britpop. Back then you had to be a band like Menswear to get a break. By shunning ironic, introverted lyrics and ill-fitting clothes and spectacles Spacemaid were doomed. Lonny Evans had no chance of being part of Blair’s ‘Cool Britannia’ puke-a-thon, though I’m sure she’s not too bothered. The funny thing is Spacemaid might fare better today, as Supercool’s 80’s retro sound could be fairly fashionable now. Check out Morningwood for signs of a revival.
Seeing as no one gives a shit about them, we’ve put ‘Baby Come On’ up on our myspace site. Check it out, Claude.
Farmfoods McCoy
I first heard Spacemaid on the aforementioned Radio 1 show, when ‘Baby Come On’ was single of the week. Mark and Lard made a joke out of them being from Hull, which I didn’t get until I visited there years later. I suppose it’s like Airdrie, with a big bridge, and a million miles from the glam, trashy, lipgloss coated sound of the ‘maid. ‘Baby Come On’ was such a great single that I actually recorded it from the Radio, something I hadn’t done since the heady days of T’pau. Just as well I did, because the single (or album) was nowhere to be found. After the Radio 1 thing Spacemaid seemed to disappear, never to be heard from again.
Forward to 2003. Like the rest of the nation I was still caught up in the ‘Macarena’ craze, whirling like a dervish who shopped in Gap. But neatly ironed khakis and Latin beats left me unfulfilled. At night I’d wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train to Hull running through my head. I could still hear sex kitten Lonny Evans pleading with me:
“Yesterday, you said something to me that I won’t forget,
You said come with me and you wont regret,
A single day. A single day
Come on!
Be my baby! Come on!”
You said come with me and you wont regret,
A single day. A single day
Come on!
Be my baby! Come on!”
Until that point I’d only used Ebay for buying incontinence pants (I’d wake with the sheets soaking wet most nights), but a quick search turned up a solitary copy of Supercool. I entered into a frenzied bidding war with ‘boringbeardy’ and eventually emerged triumphant for £3.75 + £1 p&p. I gave thanks to God and asked he make sure the postman didn’t steal the package.
I was ecstatic when Supercool was delivered, and must’ve listened to ‘Baby Come On’ for more than an hour, recalling those bygone days when I was thinner, smelled better and thought nothing of blatantly staring at a girl’s cleavage. I was apprehensive about listening to the rest of the album in case I’d been duped by the one good tune i.e. T’pau all over again. But Supercool is a stone cold classic. Spacemaid tread the thin line between Blondie and Transvision Vamp, with sneering attitude coupled to brash enthusiasm. ‘Girl Who Sold The World’ and ‘Beautiful Boys Beautiful Girls’ are absolute belters, and ‘I See Comets’ falls just short of the perfection offered by ‘Baby…’ They even take The Ramones to Hull and back with ‘Do You Remember Rock ‘n Roll Radio?’
So what happened to them? Perhaps promotion or distribution were problems, but let us remember the late 90’s era. Although they were pop, Spacemaid weren’t Britpop. Back then you had to be a band like Menswear to get a break. By shunning ironic, introverted lyrics and ill-fitting clothes and spectacles Spacemaid were doomed. Lonny Evans had no chance of being part of Blair’s ‘Cool Britannia’ puke-a-thon, though I’m sure she’s not too bothered. The funny thing is Spacemaid might fare better today, as Supercool’s 80’s retro sound could be fairly fashionable now. Check out Morningwood for signs of a revival.
Seeing as no one gives a shit about them, we’ve put ‘Baby Come On’ up on our myspace site. Check it out, Claude.
Farmfoods McCoy
The Black Crowes
Or: She gave you the finger, Benston
In 1991 I was a rather disagreeable 14 year old who considered him self a concert veteran. By then I’d seen a variety of bands including They Might Be Giants, the Waterboys and also the City of Culture’s big day out in George Square. I left before Wet Wet Wet took the stage that day, ever mindful of retaining my ice cool image. But that year I seen my first proper rock concert, courtesy of The Black Crowes, at the legendary Barras. What’s that you say? ‘A 14 year old at the Barras? How did this happen?’ Well stick around cats, and I’ll hip you to the vibe.
Among my fellow rockers who made the trip through in a beat up mini bus was a twosome known as the Tetley twins. They assured me being 4 years under age was no problem at all, as they had a contact on the door. That was all the assurance I needed and my belief never wavered until we tried to access the venue. We were rudely stopped in our stonewashed denim tracks. The bouncer was adamant that geeks our age were not to be allowed in, and it looked as though our right to rock was revoked. Time for the Tetley’s to pull an ace from their sleeve.
‘Listen mate, go and get Dave’
‘Who’s Dave?’
‘He fixed our maws washing machine and said he’d get us in. Go and get him.’
‘No one here called Dave’
‘Aye there is. He fixes washing machines. Tall guy. Go and get him.’
‘Look wee man, there’s no one here called Dave, I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘The boy that fixes washing machines, he said it’d be cool’
About this time I was wondering why on earth I allowed myself to be taken in by their ridiculous guarantee. But the Tetley’s were nothing if not persistent, and a further 30 seconds stubborn refusal to believe that the Barras did not employ some one who fixed their maws washing machine finally sapped the bouncers will to live. Wearily sighing he let us in with the warning ‘If I see youse near the bar I’ll boot yer baws’
It was the Crowes first headline tour of the UK and they were riding (relatively) high on the success of their version of ‘Hard to Handle’. With the unimpeachably cool Robinson bros on fine form they rocked the shit, baby. Even 14 years later I remember that night as one of the Best Gigs in the World Ever. I also remember it for two other reasons. Firstly I copped off with a bird. For me, that was almost unheard of. I was pretty sure she thought I was much older than 14 due to my sophisticated attire and debonair aura. And the fact I was in a licensed venue. The bubble burst when she phoned a few days later and my mum said I was doing my homework. The other reason is that while the Crowes stormed through ‘Jealous Again’ and I was doing the bouncy bouncy near the front, a person (or persons) unknown made repeated attempts at ramming their finger up my arse. If this happened to me today I would find it unsettling to say the least. To a 14 year old it was a terrifying, not to say baffling, assault. Every day I give thanks to Levis for the sturdiness of their cloth. Thank fuck I wasn’t wearing the chinos my mum bought me for the school disco. They would surely have ripped asunder with such rough treatment, laying me bare (literally) to that devilish digit. I’m not sure if the fingering incident was related to the cradle-snatching lady but maybe that sort of behaviour counts for courtship in Paisley. However in the interests of heterosexuality I maintain that it WAS a female who attempted to go ‘south of the border’.
This finally leads us to the point of this article, a look back at the Crowes second album ‘The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion’. Right from the first stuttering riff of ‘Sting Me’ it’s obvious this album is an unheralded classic. Blending gospel backing, soulful lyrics and downright filthy rawk n roll, there isn’t one weak number and several outstanding ones. ‘Sting Me’ kicks off with the memorable lines
We staccato slide into the second song, ‘Remedy’ a fantastic blues rocker before slowing down on ‘Thorn in my Pride’. On that fateful Barras night of unwitting sexual experimentation, ‘Thorn..’ was played as a new up-tempo number, but it was slowed down in the studio. It’s a really gentle, soulful ballad with some great Hammond action that merges into a frenetic jam and back again. They keep the slow mellow sound for ‘Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye’ before blowing up blues style on ‘Sometimes Salvation’, an absolute belter. ‘Hotel Illness is probably the most straightforward track, and sounds more like the Crowes debut stuff. When I first listened to ‘Black Moon Creeping’ I wasn’t impressed, but have grown to love it. A real swampy sound and amazing solo work in the middle and this vibe continues in ‘No Speak No Slave’
The penultimate number ‘My Morning Song’ is the albums best and a soaring, epic, balls to the wall celebration of Southern Rock. The sound of Chris Robinson trying to match his backing singers in the biblical chorus is something special, as is the guitar work from Rich Robinson. The Crowes realise they can’t top this moment and close with the acoustic gospel of ‘Time Will Tell’.
The album went double platinum, and hit #1 in the US charts, but seems to be relatively forgotten about here. If you’re a fan of rock with a tinge of blues/country/gospel and a whole load of other influences, then check it out. Satisfaction guaranteed
http://www.blackcrowes.com
In 1991 I was a rather disagreeable 14 year old who considered him self a concert veteran. By then I’d seen a variety of bands including They Might Be Giants, the Waterboys and also the City of Culture’s big day out in George Square. I left before Wet Wet Wet took the stage that day, ever mindful of retaining my ice cool image. But that year I seen my first proper rock concert, courtesy of The Black Crowes, at the legendary Barras. What’s that you say? ‘A 14 year old at the Barras? How did this happen?’ Well stick around cats, and I’ll hip you to the vibe.
Among my fellow rockers who made the trip through in a beat up mini bus was a twosome known as the Tetley twins. They assured me being 4 years under age was no problem at all, as they had a contact on the door. That was all the assurance I needed and my belief never wavered until we tried to access the venue. We were rudely stopped in our stonewashed denim tracks. The bouncer was adamant that geeks our age were not to be allowed in, and it looked as though our right to rock was revoked. Time for the Tetley’s to pull an ace from their sleeve.
‘Listen mate, go and get Dave’
‘Who’s Dave?’
‘He fixed our maws washing machine and said he’d get us in. Go and get him.’
‘No one here called Dave’
‘Aye there is. He fixes washing machines. Tall guy. Go and get him.’
‘Look wee man, there’s no one here called Dave, I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘The boy that fixes washing machines, he said it’d be cool’
About this time I was wondering why on earth I allowed myself to be taken in by their ridiculous guarantee. But the Tetley’s were nothing if not persistent, and a further 30 seconds stubborn refusal to believe that the Barras did not employ some one who fixed their maws washing machine finally sapped the bouncers will to live. Wearily sighing he let us in with the warning ‘If I see youse near the bar I’ll boot yer baws’
It was the Crowes first headline tour of the UK and they were riding (relatively) high on the success of their version of ‘Hard to Handle’. With the unimpeachably cool Robinson bros on fine form they rocked the shit, baby. Even 14 years later I remember that night as one of the Best Gigs in the World Ever. I also remember it for two other reasons. Firstly I copped off with a bird. For me, that was almost unheard of. I was pretty sure she thought I was much older than 14 due to my sophisticated attire and debonair aura. And the fact I was in a licensed venue. The bubble burst when she phoned a few days later and my mum said I was doing my homework. The other reason is that while the Crowes stormed through ‘Jealous Again’ and I was doing the bouncy bouncy near the front, a person (or persons) unknown made repeated attempts at ramming their finger up my arse. If this happened to me today I would find it unsettling to say the least. To a 14 year old it was a terrifying, not to say baffling, assault. Every day I give thanks to Levis for the sturdiness of their cloth. Thank fuck I wasn’t wearing the chinos my mum bought me for the school disco. They would surely have ripped asunder with such rough treatment, laying me bare (literally) to that devilish digit. I’m not sure if the fingering incident was related to the cradle-snatching lady but maybe that sort of behaviour counts for courtship in Paisley. However in the interests of heterosexuality I maintain that it WAS a female who attempted to go ‘south of the border’.
This finally leads us to the point of this article, a look back at the Crowes second album ‘The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion’. Right from the first stuttering riff of ‘Sting Me’ it’s obvious this album is an unheralded classic. Blending gospel backing, soulful lyrics and downright filthy rawk n roll, there isn’t one weak number and several outstanding ones. ‘Sting Me’ kicks off with the memorable lines
‘If you feel like a riot
Then don’t you deny it’
This makes a fine change from the fat oafs of today shitting themselves because they ‘predict a riot’. In 1992 the Crowes were encouraging unruly behaviour, not just observing it. Now aint that a definition of rock? Then don’t you deny it’
We staccato slide into the second song, ‘Remedy’ a fantastic blues rocker before slowing down on ‘Thorn in my Pride’. On that fateful Barras night of unwitting sexual experimentation, ‘Thorn..’ was played as a new up-tempo number, but it was slowed down in the studio. It’s a really gentle, soulful ballad with some great Hammond action that merges into a frenetic jam and back again. They keep the slow mellow sound for ‘Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye’ before blowing up blues style on ‘Sometimes Salvation’, an absolute belter. ‘Hotel Illness is probably the most straightforward track, and sounds more like the Crowes debut stuff. When I first listened to ‘Black Moon Creeping’ I wasn’t impressed, but have grown to love it. A real swampy sound and amazing solo work in the middle and this vibe continues in ‘No Speak No Slave’
The penultimate number ‘My Morning Song’ is the albums best and a soaring, epic, balls to the wall celebration of Southern Rock. The sound of Chris Robinson trying to match his backing singers in the biblical chorus is something special, as is the guitar work from Rich Robinson. The Crowes realise they can’t top this moment and close with the acoustic gospel of ‘Time Will Tell’.
The album went double platinum, and hit #1 in the US charts, but seems to be relatively forgotten about here. If you’re a fan of rock with a tinge of blues/country/gospel and a whole load of other influences, then check it out. Satisfaction guaranteed
http://www.blackcrowes.com