Julian Cope had already long left a defunct Teardrop Explodes by the time in December 1983 he penned his now famous essay on psychedelia and garage rock “The Gospel According to Saint Julian” for ZigZag. In it he set out his manifesto, that hippie culture was in essence a middle class indulgence and it’s real power lay in the sort of bands who populated Lenny Kaye’s then obscure 1972 compilation Nuggets, the none-hit wonders who recorded a couple of singles and then returned to perpetual obscurity.
The Teardrops had been cast as a Liverpudlian band, but Cope himself was a student who’d found himself in the right place at the right time. Whatever his roots, it’s been a city that has seemingly most taken his words to heart, and not just because of The Beatles obvious legacy. The Dream Machine are a quintet from New Brighton on the Wirral (Also the home of the album’s titular castle) who, after their James Skelly produced last effort Small Time Monsters flirted with baroque indie pop have since masterfully reinvented themselves.
To do that obviously calls for bold choices and the titular opener grinds it’s way through old time R&B shades, before courtesy of some salvaged gear the broody Things That Make Us Cry dreams up a Phil Spector style wall of Mersey sound. Things stay Nuggetsy on the splendidly titled Duck Bone Fever, whilst The First Bird spangles like early Verve in their sans shoes era. Closing optimistically with Best Days of Our Lives, Fort Perch Rock is the sound of a baton being picked up by The Dream Machine, the latest gang of Merseysiders to take the word of Saint Julian as gospel, to thrilling effect.
You can read a full review here.
The Voice Of Unreason 