Nostalgia Status: Def.Con.One

So, I'm quietly sitting at my desk at work and wondering just what defines "sexy dalek pictures" as requested by a regular visitor to The Towers.

A sexy Dalek ? A picture of a Dalek that's sexily shot ?

Strangely enough though, this post has nothing to do with said Dalek-mania, aside from posters now realising that I do read and occasionally act upon the comments added by people out there.

No, this is about what hit my ears and made me smile as I was doing said thinking. More exactly, the age and style and the music and what it made me realise more than ever.

We all realise that clothes come in and out of fashion, that methods of cooking food wander in the door marked "favour" and out of the door marked "cliched", only to sit outside and wander back through again more than once.

Flares ? Tracksuits ? Blackforest Gateau ? Fondue ? Crepes ?

In amongst a "random" clump of tracks I hit upon a blast of samples, raps, guitar and general lunacy. Causing the grin was Pop Will Eat Itself or, if you will, P.W.E.I.


Knocking the random option off I listened to most of "This is the Day, This is the Hour, This is This......"




For those of you not in the know or old enough to have caught it first time round - you really should hear just how good sheer enjoyment can sound when untethered by either taste or commercial greed. These were the days before sample clearance royalties, when skinny white Brits could rap in a very quirky British Way.

Songs about James Brown car chases ("Not now James, we're busy..."), TV satellite porn, lists of totally unconnected favourite things, the joy of guitars....you name it and the Poppies worked it into their music - usually all on the same track. I defy anybody, no matter how many anoraks they wear, to get where every sample on this album comes from - there are just sooooo many and so skillfully used.

The weird thing is that one point they really were de-rigeur for any crusty leather jacketed grebo, the beats could be heard bounding off the walls at everything from indie clubs to flat/squat parties and the god that was (and is) Clint Mansell was just about the coolest name to drop.

Over time, as is the way of the world, people decided that times had moved on and kinda left the Poppies and their "Beaver Patrol" behind, declaring them yesterdays news and, inevitably, they faded from site.

Many years later and Clint is now a seriously respected soundtrack writer/compiler, the perfectly targeted "PI" techno clattering and the soul devouring Kronos Quartet work for "Requiem for a Dream" coming to mind.

Lo and behold I've recently heard odd Poppies tracks being played and it now seems that on the coat tails of his current success it's cool to be a new, old PWEI fan again.

"Ok Carpy," I hear you ask, "whilst I appreciate the history of English Grebo-dance from years gone by, what has that actually to do with flares and crepes ?"

Somebody asked me a few days ago if I had anything embarrassing in my CD collection. I mentally scanned through all 1500 and, with a knowing look, simply said no.

Wait long enough and watch the rise again of those CD's and artists that the world sees fit to turn their collective noses up at. Hearing this PWEI album again today really struck me at how fresh it sounded, totally unlike anything around now. Not, for once, in a dated way, but simply from the spontaneous sound and unbridled energy - something every record company in the land would most likely kill for a shot of.

In the words of Mansell himself, dig out the old stuff in your collections and "Wise Up, sucker !"