The DIY empire of Swansea Sound
Fanatics of the formidable DIY scenes will rejoice as we present one of the most beloved supergroups in recent memory — Swansea Sound. Comprised of Pooh Sticks' own Hue Williams, along with Heavenly, Talulah Gosh icon Amelia Fletcher, Rob Pursey (also of Heavenly) and Ian Button who borrow their moniker from a cherished radio station that was bought and renamed by draconian corporate overlords. And like their chosen name, these stalwarts of underground independent artistry remain loyal to their original visions and missions to take on the hegemony of the music business and speak sense to a world that has devolved into tribalistic trifles and worse. From Margaret Thatcher’s 80s UK where these artists took aim at indie pop moguls, scene posturing, fancying new wave pop art flicks, film stars and worlds of anorak clad escapism now battle the increasingly toxic landscape of sinister Spotify corruption, overproduced Billboard radio schlock, conspiracy theories running rampant, the normalization of the national front into mainstream politics and countless other confederacies of dunces galore.
Welcome to Swansea Sound’s Live at the Rum Puncheon. A musical pub break to (hopefully) bring some joy, conscious perspectives and humor to a distressed world released on a barrage of DIY labels for the entire globe to witness. "Rock n Roll Void" reminisces and riffs on the idolatry and points of obsession that stem from the way we internalize our fixations with public pop stars that run deep into the recesses of our collective psyches. The tongue-in-cheek C86 pop punk rocks against digital materialism on "I Sold my Soul on eBay" that takes the piss out of the empty gains of popularity and an unfair kind of fame of putting yourself out there on the platforms of YouTube, Spotify, et al for nothing in return. The social distance anxiety and mental health matters ring with empathy and care on the beautiful ballad of "I'm OK When You're Around" that finds a collective comfort of togetherness by way of banding against a world consumed with fascism, bigotry and xenophobia. "The Pooh Sticks" is a fun romp and nod to the titular cult band that updates and borrows lines from the fun and cheeky "I Know Someone Who Knows Someone Who Knows Alan McGee Quite Well" that is a minimalist sendup of nostalgia and hopes for a brighter, better global music community of tomorrow. The super group gives credence to the tenets of happenstance on the melancholic romanticism of "Let it Happen", to pepping it up on the humorous duet of awkward relationship dialogues on "Je Ne Sais Quoi" and wistfully wondering about the expanses of the United States' landscapes (both pop culturally and topographically) on the beautiful balladry of "Pasadena".
The epic call to arms “Indies of the World” is an apropos single on a record released on a plethora of international imprints that is an earworm worthy of myriad listens in efforts to combat the corporatization of your favorite progressive styles, sounds and so forth. The discreet charm of detached bourgeoisie pop aspirations and manufactured, pre-fab big machine made art is delightfully and accurately lampooned on "Corporate Indie Band", while "Freedom of Speech" sets its sights on the weaponization of liberties that are fashioned with backwards, harmful intent under the blanketed umbrella of rights and entitlements that are a detriment to the body politik. Evolutions of madness and generational shifts are surveyed on "Angry Girl", paying homage to the former radio station of their namesake on "Swansea Sound", complete with the bonus cut "Happy Christmas to Me" that casts all caution to the wind in the name of self-serving wants, lavish desires, bordering on mindlessly blissful and indulgent. Swansea Sound's Live at the Rum Puncheon is a must hear before the end of the year as we joyously join the band as they share some of their favorite fascinations and more following the jump:
Ambassadors of international indie — Swansea Sound’s Hue Williams, Amelia Fletcher, Rob Pursey & Ian Button
Standing up against fascism and corporate art — Swansea Sound; press photo courtesy of the artists.
Rob
A pint of beer with a pickled egg in a packet of salt and vinegar crisps at Larkins Alehouse.
Going out anywhere at all feels like an adventure now that lockdown is over. The good thing is I don’t need to travel far to have fun anymore. I get excited going to hardware shops, I get excited about getting on a train, but most of all I get excited about going to a pub. All these things that I used to take for granted — now they just feel like blessings. I don’t drink very heavily, so on Sunday I chose my ale carefully. It was from Gadds brewery in Broadstairs, Kent, but what made the whole thing feel like a festival of everything fantastic was that I had the pint along with a pickled egg, nestled in a pack of salt and vinegar crisps. Some people disdain this snack: perhaps the rubberiness of the egg combined with the brittle sharp edges of the crisps is disturbing to them. But take it from me: it’s better than sushi. I experienced this at a real-ale bar called Larkins, in a little town called Cranbrook, just down the road from us. You are unlikely to ever go there, but if you do, please get yourself a pint of Gadds and a pack of crisps with an egg.
Ian
Dead of Night (1945) - Ealing Studios (and Talking Pictures TV)
I’m someone who doesn’t go to the cinema much, or watch things on demand at crazy times of the day — I like to see what normal TV throws at me — I like having my day marked out by regular scheduled soaps, news and dramas. But I also like surprises.
Talking Pictures TV has been a godsend over the last few years for terminal nostalgists like me.
When I flicked it on this Sunday and saw that Dead of Night was about to start, I literally cheered (to no one).
It’s one of my all-time favorite movies — I probably first saw it in my early teens, and it ticks boxes I still need. Portmanteau movie. Characters in an old house describing supernatural events that leave a satisfying chill — even the slightly light-hearted golfing ghost episode. Then the psychedelic climax as Walter Craig’s (Mervyn Johns) premonition fuses with everyone else’s stories — the relief when he wakes up at home, then the final realization.
(That’s enough of the plot — you should just watch it!)
Lots is said about Michael Redgrave’s performance in his segment being the greatest — his is the darkest tale, saved for last and there are unforgettable images in that part of course. But the whole movie is a joy — Wikipedia even tells us that its circular plot got astrophysicists thinking about the concept of a steady-state universe (no big bang: everything the same everywhere, all the time…..er….I think).
Writing about it makes me want to dig out the DVD and watch it again today.
But I might just wait for it to be on TPTV again when I least expect it. That’s much more exciting!
Swansea Sound’s Amelia, Rob & Hue; via Bandcamp.
I love and have all the Sam Knee picture books.
These are mainly photographs of youth culture and scenes, but sourced from fans or the people involved at the time. Some are ripped, torn or out of focus but somehow that makes it all the more engaging. There are books about UK youth subcultures, music festivals and riot grrrl.
The first in the series, and recently republished in a revised edition, is A Scene in Between.
This one concentrates on the indie and C86 scenes so plenty of Talulah Gosh and my old mates the Sea Urchins plus even two or three of the Pooh Sticks, but don’t let that put you off.
If you don’t know of these tomes I urge you to check ‘em out pronto.
Amelia
Ron Mueck: 25 Years of Sculpture, 1996-2021, at the Thaddaeus Ropac gallery
Rod Mueck’s Dead Dad courtesy of the Thaddaeus Ropac gallery.
Over the last 18 months, we’ve barely seen any art in real life, for obvious reasons. But our 18 year old daughter has been doing her Art ‘A’ Level at school, so we’ve spent some time online trying to find artists that might excite her. It turned out that Canadian artist Ron Mueck was a hit and inspired her final exam piece. So we decided to take her to London to see this retrospective exhibition. Mueck specializes in hyper-realistic sculptures of people (and one dead chicken) in normal situations, albeit all either too small or too big. They are somehow both banal and incredibly moving. Dead Dad may be his most famous work; a replica of his own father’s dead body, shrunk to a third of its true size. It feels tender, but so fragile. You think about death and family power relationships. Then you think about how the sculpture must have been prepared and how you feel about that. You obsess over all the tiny hairs on the fiberglass body. My favorite of all the pieces was Mother and baby. A woman carries two full shopping bags, her tiny baby swaddled in her bulging coat. I spent a long time looking at the mother’s face, how her expression was somehow both blank and yet full of emotion. I half expected a small tear to seep out. Ron Mueck’s sculptures aren’t like anything else I’ve ever seen.
Rob
Hermit crabs and the re-use of unwanted objects.
Hermit crab courtesy of The Guardian.
I got a bit obsessed with these animals and the way they vacate their old shells when they need to find another one. It all started when we had to find a name for our band. Hue had suggested Swansea Sound.
Swansea Sound was a much-loved local radio station that had recently been taken over by a multinational company (Bauer Media). When Bauer got their hands on it, they re-branded it Greatest Hits Radio and it became part of their bland roster of identikit stations. But in the process, Bauer discarded Swansea Sound’s name and its lovely old logo. Good news for us! Like a hermit crab crawling around on the seabed seeking accommodation and a new identity, our band occupied these discarded items. And they suit us very well.
Anyway, I have since learned more about hermit crabs. They are truly amazing animals. For example, they are very sophisticated when it comes to choosing a new shell. They are careful not to evict each other, but when they grow bigger they do have to find something larger and there is competition with other hermit crabs for desirable accommodation. It’s a risky process; they can’t wander around naked for too long, or some marine predator will come and eat them. I think there is a moral there for us. Maybe we shouldn’t try to get too big and successful?
Swansea Sound’s Live at the Rum Puncheon is available now via the following international independent imprints Skep Wax Records (UK, Europe); HHBTM Records (North America), Lavender Sweep Records (cassette via UK, Europe), Austin Town Hall Records (North America) and Shiny Happy Records (Indonesia).