Testimonial 31

Sixth form (1988-90). A group of us went to the Co-op Hall (now called The Zodiac) on the Cowley Road in Oxford every Saturday night to see whatever band was on. It was mostly awful (The Shamen, Culture Shock, Nik Turner, etc.) but sometimes we struck lucky. The luckiest strike of all was Cardiacs.

What was this pop/punk/carousel/nursery rhyme/ska/metal/godknowswhatelse ?? I didn’t really care, I was falling in love. It was fate.

A goth friend taped me “Live” and I then went and bought “On Land and In the Sea” and “Is this the life” 12”. I soon knew that this band could produce highs that no drug could even think about. Song after song sent shivers up and down my spine.

Ten years and several gigs later, Cardiacs still turn me into a gooey mess. Is it me or are Cardiacs actually getting better? Bellyeye is song of the decade by a mile!! Thank you Cardiacs for being a band I truely love and a band my wife truly hates.

Richard Prangle

Testimonial 32

As eager 16 year olds in 1988 Johnny Banks and I formed a hardcore band called Gastric Ulcer at a Napalm Death concert in a converted church in Southampton. Shane Embury was probably wearing a big flower shirt which meant zilch to me at the time. I rocked out. ‘The Ulcer’ spent the next 18 months doing its thing fixated with all musics extreme and heavy. Napalm Death were causing a stir during ‘89 and as a devotee I bought all the magazine articles I could find and had a special video tape for appearances on Rapido (or whatever) and a one off Arena documentary on the history of heaviness.

This bloody word CARDIACS seemed to always be cropping up, usually on Shane’s person. “Thrash band” I thought, “might check ‘em out one day”.

‘The Ulcer’ were finding the same old turgid stuff that most bands at the time were churning out less and less inspiring and having recently been re-acquainted with XTC and Mr Zappa we were looking for something new and mad.

Just at the right time, whilst travelling in an Austin Allegro I heard this odd ascending melody from the portable stereo next to me that just seemed to go on rising forever. “What in Christ’s name is this?” “Cardiacs” the driver replied. Not what I had expected. The song was Loosefish Scapegrace. The song title was irrelevant at the time but I was convinced within 30 seconds that I had found what I was looking for. I purchased everything I could get hold of, as quickly as possible.

Now obsessed, Johnny and I suggested getting a keyboard player, much to the bass player’s disgust. Things came to a head when we played at a local festival on June 30 1990 fannying everybody about to make sure we were off stage in time to be in Salisbury by 4.30 in the afternoon to see our new found loves for the first time. The band split a week later. Oh well.

The rest of the nineties have been a haze of chaos – apparent running battles in New Cross between locals and police, missed trains, getting lost in cars, desperate drunken panics to find somewhere to stay and blowing out important family events. Girlfriends have been and gone – often scared off by Cardiacs within a week, bizarre coincidences have occurred – you don’t expect to stroll in to a pub in Winchester wearing a Cardiacs shirt and stood right next to the front door is their van driver, warnings have been given at work for being late ‘once too often’…

Thank you Cardiacs – you split up my band, destroyed relationships, made me nearly lose jobs, made me unpopular with my family…I’m still here and I still love you.

Geg aka Dr Raymondo Spinner

Testimonial 33

At a vital point in my life (around the age of 16) – my mate Chris gave me an innocent looking object which later turned out to be probably the most important thing anybody ever gave me. I still remember the cassette – a crappy old beaten -up Sony 60 minute tape, with scribbled writing proclaiming ‘Lindy’s party by The Bolshoi’ (another fine obscure 80’s band -should have been much bigger) and on the other side, simply the words ‘A little man, a house and the whole world window’ bunched up on the little sticker. I was told to try this out, it was supposed to be great (like being recommended to take drugs or something).

I listened to the tape on the bus on the way home from school (would have been 1988/89) on my walkman, and these strange, big orchestral sounds and loud, dark, huge drum beats seeped in to me effortlessly. I was awaiting some horrendous, weird heavy male singer to come crashing in and ruin the experience, but instead I was greeted with an almost inaudibly quiet ‘Leaving early, just before the hour……’ and the best bus ride ever began.

After listening to the album from start to finish about 3 times that evening, the tape was copied and returned. chris and i would then turn up to various friends parties and ensure that when ever possible we would hi-jack the host’s stereo and boom out our music. Many a whiskey-fuelled mosh and hearty sing-along session took place to the likes of Is this the Life, Big Ship and Suzanna’s still Alive. Our local second hand record shop managed to turn up some great Cardiacs rareties – the Cardiacs 12”s and vinyl albums are the best.

The only cardiacs memory I have to match the first bus-ride for amazement, was obviously the first Cardiacs concert. For truly the Cardiacs (and i have to be a pooh-pooher and say that the old stuff still captures my heart more than any of the beautifully complicated new stuff) as an 8 piece band (I’m guessing at the numbers – it got hard to keep count) with full percussion, saxaphone etc. were simply stunning. My first concert was at the Marquee in London in 1989. How can i describe the impact that was given by sight of lots of men wearing soiled, tatty suits with lovely flowers attached and a beguiling lady with a manic smilestrapped into a saxaphone? Fantastic atmospheres were experienced at numerous venues throughout the years (I’ve lost count now) – especially at the OLD TROUT IN WINDSOR -which had to be one of the best venues around ever.

Basically, I have grown up with the Cardiacs. Safe to say that I have still to convert any of my friends to their unique sound – but that actually makes my respect for the band stronger, since I can keep them as my (and my friend Chris’s)private little secret. Loving the Cardiacs is the best personal secret you could hope to have. God bless them and all that sail with them. I’m still looking out for that shark though.

Tom Pugh

Testimonial 34.

1988. I’m 20 years old, and working on a building site in Swindon, but commuting daily from my home in Aldershot.

The bosses son, Robin, would pick me up from my house at 6:30am, and tear off at a rate of knots down the M4 in his motley black V8 Rover. I would cower in the back, half asleep, peering groggily out of the window. He would play compilation tapes of his record collection, most of which I remained wholly indifferent to. There was one tape, though, which contained ten minutes of unmistakable class: two tunes of such other-worldy originality that in an instant I found myself utterly transfixed.

“What on Earth was that?” I asked in disbelief as the magic music faded away.

“Cardiacs.” he replied

I made a mental note.

We arrived at the site and, after a proper builders breakfast, work commenced. I busied myself with humping things about, like you do when you’re a labourer, and listening to the many tranny radios that littered the site. It was an unspoken rule on most sites that everyone would tune to Radio1, so as to avoid the cacophany of many different stations clamouring for attention. In 1988, the output of Radio 1 was largely dross, punctuated by the smug drivellings of Simon Bates, Gary Davies et al. Imagine, then, my total surprise at suddenly finding myself with my ear pressed to a radio speaker, rejoicing in what I can only describe as a peak experience, as the most wonderful noise I had ever heard waggled my eardrums in and out.

“That was ‘Cardiacs’ with ‘Is This The Life’” intoned Simon Bates as the record faded over the maddest guittar solo I’d ever heard, and the spell was cast.

The following weekend, I scuttled breathlessly to Our Price in Aldershot, and bought ‘A Little Man and a House….’ cos it had ‘RES’ (one of the tunes I heard in the car…the other was ‘To Go Off And Things’) and ‘Is This The Life’ on it. Straight home and……oh! By some malfunction in the manufacturing process, the record label was applied the wrong way round, with side 1 on side 2, and vice-versa, and the first thing I heard was ‘The Icing On The World’ thinking it was ‘A Little Man And A House’. I wasn’t sure I was into it, cos I was expecting mad, breakneck, twiddly music, not parping Salvation Army brass, but at least I had two of the tracks I liked. I played these two tracks ten times a day, and didn’t really plan to buy any more Cardiacs records. Gradually, though, simply cos I was too lazy to take the record off for the other tracks, I grew to love the whole album, to a point where I could listen to nothing else. I’m on my third copy, having worn out the other two. I adore every second of it with all my heart.

Over the next few months, I mailed every record shop in Europe, and managed to find every recording, apart from ‘The Obvious Identity’ and ‘A Bus For A Bus On The Bus’ which I have never heard, but would dearly love to. I love every track on every album without exception, every lyric, every note, every strange noise. I’ve been to countless gigs. I was lucky enough to see them when they were seven at the Astoria in ‘88, when Bic was with them at Slough in ‘93, and with Bob Leith and Jon Poole at Reading (or was it Phoenix..?) a couple of years ago, when they fucked up the end of ‘Is This the Life’ I am always taken by the friendliness of the crowd, and the loving atmosphere that prevails. I stand proudly, and sing with all my heart.

This music transports me to places nothing else can. In times of sadness or stress, I close my eyes, clasp my hands in front of me, and sing….

“All of the noise takes me to the outside, where there’s all, creations joining in celebrating happiness and joy, all around the world, on land and in the sea…..”

Try it. It works.

Much love to all the family fish – long may it remain all snowy in the pond.

Ott. (now living in Somerset)

Testimonial 35

One day my big brothers friend Paul slipped an extra cd into the pile he was lending me. We shared a common love of all things black and dark and metal in nature, and as he was much older than me he was able to acquire evil sounds way beyond my means.

“Listen to this.”, he said. “It’s really weird. I really like it.” and left it at that.

I studied the strange blue cover, and all I could think at the time was “This isn’t metal. Do I have time for this.”

I decided to give it a token listen and sceptically appraised the ‘Big Ship’ sailing out of the speakers. Little did I realise what that song would mean to me given a few more listens. Then ‘Tarred and Feathered’ came on, picked me up, swung me around the room by my nostril hairs, mangled my brain and left me dazed with a big smile on my face.

Several years later when I was at University I finally got to see Cardiacs live. It was like eating a big box full of the best chocolates ever only better. The rest is history. Even though I listen to loads of metal and opera and very little in between, No One compares, or even comes close to the majesty of Cardiacs.

Thanks very much for listening
Justin Morley