Subway

Subway
"Mr.Nice Guy" (Park Lane, 1980)

Blackpool rock. Well, OK - Blackpool pop. Five young lads from the Paris of the North stride nonchalantly, booted and suited, along the Lancs streets, confident in the warm glow of having crafted "Mr. Nice Guy" as one of the four tracks on their debut EP, a 'slab' of vinyl destined to take the band out of the reach of the local Northern julies and into the sure embrace of the high-rollin' jet set. Well, in retrospect, at least an NME review would've been nice, ta: problem was that the band's combined age was just about equal to the number of 'O'-levels famously sported by The Zombies, so gigging far and wide wasn't an option, what with it being a school night or what have you, so Subway remained pretty much a local proposition, they never made another record, and fame eluded them... until one of them (and I daren't say which) saw some basking in the stardom of being a mid-ranking UK tennis pro (come on, it's beneath you: resist the temptation for the obvious comments, please).

They made 1000 of these little beauties but, well, doing the sleeves was a bit laborious and they were cut'n'glued only as and when and, seeing as there wasn't a lot of 'when', very few sleeves were ever made.

Thin Yoghurts tape

Thin Yoghurts
(My Baby Drives A) Container Lorry (Lowther Street Runner, cassette, 1980-ish)

One glorious single - the all-conquering "Girl On The Bus" - and that was it, right? Well, nearly. Do cassettes count? Well, not really. But is it like I'm giving you the option? Well, no, not really: here's what I like to think of as the 'lead track' from the 5-song cassette-only follow-up to the "Girl..." thing we all know and love (and if you don't know it, please close the door on your way out; if you do know it, but don't love it, please forget where we live). "(My Baby Drives A) Container Lorry" lacks some of the charm and devil-may merriment of the single, I grant you, but who could seriously doubt the sincerity of the band when they inform us, without sparing a thought for themselves, that their baby "... drives a container lorry". Poetry.

Somewhere there's a Yorkshire Lord who only-knows how many of these they made up, but I'm sure you'll join me in venturing a figure between minimal and not-really-that-many-at-all. Once upon a time I tried asking, but all I got was the train times to Pontefract.

I s'pose the other highlight on the cassette is "Crossroads Death Chant" (those who are already on board with The Snivelling Shits' "I'm Waiting For My Crossroads" will want to collect the set) (is two a set, if it's not a twin-set?) (what?) but it's all pretty much a wondrous experience. Not "Girl On The Bus", OK, but what is?

Phil Canning

Phil Canning
"Sellout" (Woodbine, 1979)

It was a hive of activity down 'round John A. Rivers' WRMS place back in the day, it really was. If it wasn't half of Swell Maps asleep on the floor, or John battling sozzled band members to remember that it was 'John', not 'Jon', and that 'A's not there for his health either, thanks, then it was various members of the local leafy-punk (that's the Leamington axis) contingent, or sometimes the concrete-jungle Coventry hard-cases, giving poor John the headache of his life with their out-of-tune bass (The Invaders) or crappy snare (most everyone, to be honest). Hell, sometimes they'd even show up sporting moustaches (Everyone Else... that's the band Everyone Else, not just a generic 'everyone else'), which, well, he's a patient lad and what have you, but that must've sorely tried him. He was probably relieved when local reliables Cheeky were booked into the studio, not to record their own single ("Don't Mess Around" wouldn't be released - also on Woodbine - until 1980), but this time as band-for-hire backing one Phil Canning of this parish.

I'm guessing - I haven't broached it with the boy Canning - that ye olde punke rocke wasn't really his cup of tea: he probably saw himself more in the tradition of thumbs-in-beltloops in between Stones albums and the next Zep tour. Good time rocking, no doubt, in the old way - gawd knows the rubbish the kids seem to be liking these days, etc etc. He'd probably have been horrified (and I don't suppose Cheeky'd have been over the moon about it either) to think of his one-and-only stab at vinyl immortality being punted as punky or, worse, 'powerpop' twenty-something years later. But hey, what can you do? A punky powerpop classic, even.