SONGS THEY NEVER PLAY ON THE RADIO
4. THE HIGH: a cellarful of soul
PART 1
WHAT I love about getting old is reassessing all manner of stuff and coming to the conclusion that I was once very set in my ways and empty-headed. I know for a fact that solely on the strength of being signed to London records I would not have considered The High to be neither an indie band or rock band, so consequently I'd have pretty much considered them to be insignificant despite rave reviews.
Based on my experiences at the Hangout, I didn't much care for Oldham's finest The Inspiral Carpets either, who waltzed around like the emperor Joe Blogg's new clothes. However, over the years I have since heard Dids and ET always talking of reforming seldom heard peripheral acts like Rubber Orange, The Jerks, One Summer, Turning Blue, and The Rainkings, so the revisionist in me was awakened.
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| old dank cellar |
My grandfather's old dank cellar actually played an embryonic role in starting this scene as it gave them all rehearsal space.
He'd be turning in his grave, I guess, but it definitely helped give them a playing edge and brought John Matthews out of his shell. At this point, I must confess that my main reason for gravitating towards Manchester and bypassing Oldham was my quest for some personal musical recognition. I had zero talent, but buckets of enthusiasm so would struggle in a place full of time-served piss-takers and cynics who could all manage their way around a musical instrument. I recall stumbling into One Summer's after show at the Midland Hotel after I'd been to a Back to Basics night earlier. Hearing Weatherall spin Shirley Bassey. Rubber Orange's bassist Warren Wrigley passed through the warehouse I work (becoming someone to talk to), but all locally made music, and knowledge of, has been channelled into me retrospectively.
Colin, Vinyl Revival's owner, recently self-released One Summer's demo's, albeit a little polished, and the resulting Spirit blew me away. It smoulders and snakes around my head, making me rue the night I chanced upon them after the event. That said, I all but forgot about the angelic vocals until last year when Colin did it again by releasing The High's hitherto unreleased fan favourite, Go Your Own Way. Once again, I was blown away.
Whilst I was lucky enough to frequent a boozer with a solid jukebox that familiarized me with the classics I still love listening to lesser known music made by folk my own age, and this vocal simply stares into a void in wide-eyed wonder, and sounds more familiar than other staple tracks on offer. I was now ready to dive into the back catalogue.
Debut single Up and Down is a jangly affair that somehow should be now part of my own DNA but isn't. The video is also a great document of the time. Constructed with Matthews, now trademark angel's voice working its way to faint crescendo's before breaking down and starting all over again. If you love this, then you love The High.
PART 2
THE HIGH fell together haphazardly and tried distancing themselves from Madchester, and that is the principal reason for their failure. They hadn't played enough shows to enter into the city's public consciousness. The fact that they gelled well wasn't enough as folk such as myself want to see the sweat and tears of a few toilet circuit shows. Instead, they settled into the studio and were lucky enough to corroborate well together and write really solid (if a little formulaic) songs.
Despite the minor quibble, Box Set Go was a minor hit and faster paced than its predecessor. It opened the album Somewhere Soon whose cover was influenced by Dark Side of the Moon, epitomizing the local scene coz everybody loved the Floyd LP as it was on every jukebox in north Manchester in 1990. Their song's delivery makes everything seem profound when, in fact, the lyrics are quite banal, which is also very a la Floyd. Unsurprisingly, drummer Chris Goodwin confirms this to Louder than War by stating :
'we thought we sounded like early REM and a bit of Pink Floyd, the songs had no affiliation with house-music whatsoever.'
Consequently, all the songs seem to peer over a vast vista and were it not for sun kissed guitars chiming to a very disciplined groove that both ebbs and flows deliriously to a shuffling rhythm, they could easily be called anthemic. Had a baggy Live Aid been aired, these guys would've cleaned up. There's not one mind blowing, great track, but not one single duff one either on the record. It plays amazingly well as an album.
Like many a band, they were on kids' telly, and the footage looks surprisingly innocent today. With hindsight, I think wide eyed baggy troubadours are far more innocent, and do far less damage to children's psyche than gyrating boy bands.
They were also the last band to work with Martin Hannett and their swansong More...is another highly underrated single. It moves toward more complex guitar arrangements but retains the open space. I think their spirit died with him. Afterwards, they flirted with power pop and rock pastiche, highlighting the folly of getting used to major label advances and being far too subservient in the studio. An example of which exposes itself when Goodwin shared this anecdote with Shiiine:
'we were recording Up and Down in Strawberry Studios and i was playing the kit. He was umming and arring, shaking his head, coming in and out of the control room and I’m saying ’what’s up Martin?’…’I’m not getting the right colour’ …..’eh ?’…i said….’it’s not right something is not right with the overheads’ said Martin. Now Martin always used two overhead mics as ambient sound only he uses a cigarette butt in between the two mics, like a sandwich. Martin then decides to go to the pub whilst I’m told to keep pounding away on the kit and not to stop. 2 hours later Martin stumbles through the studio, ‘hang on a minute. hang on a min’ he then pulls out the ciggie butt, inspects it, then says ‘….ahh, thought so !!’…..I’m like ‘what ???(sweating me nads off )’…….’this is an Embassy Regal cig’……..I’m like yea???’………’I only use Camel cigs!!!!…….lets record !!!'
Brilliant. The High, despite their major label, probably felt dwarfed by the success of the established Madchester acts during that tumultuous time in British music. A time in which some poor, ossified, suburban dads still appear powerless to escape. You can now buy all their vinyl records, NM, for the price of a decent bar snack. Ultimately, they were under the radar but burned bright enough to deserve more than the mere footnotes given here. I make a public apology to my overlooked local scene and suspect it was better than most due to its close proximity to a happening if hyped Madchester scene.
They owe a debt of gratitude to my grandfather coz from that little cellar they found their angel's voice.
