BEATS OF LOVE 

141. Blue – 80s Extended Unreleased Vocal Mix by Wham!

ORIGINALLY, A b-side track, the result of the eleven spare studio hours left after recording the mighty debut album Fantastic, and an obsession of mine in 2018. 

Its echoey, underground synthesisers, capture a raw indie energy rather than a calculated, chart-topping pop formula. Video of George wearing his Fila Borg Elite trainers on The Russell Harty Show captures him in a sharper, more captivating light.

  

You easily forget the track’s skeletal resemblance to Nothing Looks the Same in the Light. Instead, its melodic charm and hushed, tentative vocals seduce you. It captures a fragile performance by a frontman who had already silenced his partner’s creative input in a ruthless bid for stadium-sized stardom. These were their last songs that felt only mine; I surrendered subsequent releases to my sister's cassette collection for family car rides.

Its release coincided with the last time I felt naturally happy, so when I play their earliest records, it touches me personally. I can taste the fresh orange I drank before leaving the kitchen and picture my father's outstretched arms as I ruffled his neatly combed hair on my way to school. Life felt warm and playful, and I loved going to school and church. When their sophomore Make it Big album came out, I didn't. 

This edit works wonders with the vocals and turns this notion I have of it being a DIY tune on its head. It sounds crisp and not unlike a smash. I love the tactile cover and the Lovevinyl bullshit that accompanies the release on their website. Especially the lie about it being a hundred only pressing. After two failed attempts, I've finally got a copy. 

There's nothing bullshit about ECLA, their mighty edit rocks, and like a nice pair of heavy duty velvet curtains, it shuts out the world today brilliantly.

BEATS OF LOVE 

140. Looking Glass by The La's

USED TO go to the Liverpool Poly to catch bands occasionally. Getting there early to watch the soundcheck but when The La's played there in 1990 was a different vibe. It was already busy.

Ordinary, expectant people were milling around the bar with thick scouse accents. This was their band and with my deep monotone North Manchester accent, I was wary of speaking. After all, I'd been obsessed with most of their songs for just over a month whilst many of the crowd had lived with them for years. They were an incredible live force with a fiery spark, and the tunes were just dripping out naturally. 

Hearing from folk who'd heard Maver's demos for a follow-up album was a regular part of post-clubbing in the 90s. The stuff of legend, yet when they surfaced online decades later, they actually surpassed the crazy high expectations. Tears in the Rain slowed down, sounds sublime. The band hated their recorded output. However, despite their harsh criticism, it's still much loved. Their only album's closer. This effortlessly poetic epic helps give the band authenticity. Making it more resonant with age. It's the music that The Verve strove to eclipse. 

Shifting toward the experimental space of the twelve-inch releases, the track confidently declares a permanent change in direction. This new approach favours a direct, soulful expression, ironic then that Mavers' obsessive demo-tweaking confined him to the same songbook since 1986. The current dilemma is deciding which version to share; since Mavers detested the final release, many alternate sessions and takes have surfaced.

 

For today, at least, I'm going with the one that has served me longest. The one Mavers hates the most. It's still one of the best songs ever recorded.