Recently, Britpop early adopters Lush have managed to punch their way through the pile of shite that clutters my subconscious. They've had little discernible influence on the way music has developed since their split (under tragic circumstances), but the corruscating wit of songs like
Hypocrite and
Ladykillers serve as a useful counterpoint to the accepted version of music history regarding that lunkhead era of music (i).
I'm not sure why the band didn't enjoy greater success; they followed the same musical trajectory- from
shoegazing to
cynically catchy pop- as Blur, and they were as media friendly as the more popular Elastica. They did miss the opportunity for a
bona fide crossover hit by not releasing their Lee and Nancy-style collaboration with
Jarvis Cocker (recorded at the height of Pulp's fame) as a single. Co-songwriter Emma (ii) went on to form
Sing-Sing, and Miki's a
sub-Editor for dull consumer magazines.
Maybe the reason Lush have done a Proust on me is the worrying number of middle-aged women who seem to be opting to dye their barnets the same colour of Fire Engine Red that Miki used to sport- with much less pleasing results. She and Jane Goldman have a lot to answer for.
If a singer as beautiful as Japanese/Hungarian Berenyi came along these days, Cowell would force her to dump the rest of the band at the audition stages, make her over like Rihanna, and have her miming warbly covers of Keane songs on teatime telly.
(i) Despite being told by countless nostalgia TV docs, books and magazine articles that the entire nation was gripped by the insipid Blur vs Oasis wars for most of the mid-Nineties, my brain stubbornly insists that The Prodigy, RATM and the Wu-tang Clan occupied more of my thoughts and conversation at that time. I must have remembered it wrong.
(ii) The pretty girl you could still never quite tear your eyes away from Miki to pay attention to. I wonder why they fell out?
