hey kiddies, here's a pretty exciting one i posted on my shitty blog today. i'll spare you from a self-promotional link to the page and from having to read my website drivel. for those of you who know of these recordings, enjoy. for those of you who don't...it is a MUST download now!
chorchazade - aaah, you are as light as a feather 12" ep
http://www.mediafire.com/?1mk9myrmbo9
chorchazade - made to be devoured lp
http://www.mediafire.com/?8itpj9iwvy9
chorchazade wrote:CHORCHAZADE. A cult British pop group from Penzance, England. Operating from a base in St Pauls, Bristol. They performed sporadic concerts in Britain and Europe from 1977 to 1988, often supporting bands such as James, Marc Riley and the Creepers, A Certain Ratio, The Blue Aeroplanes and The Brilliant Corners. They eventually released one 12 inch single called 'aaah, you are as light as a feather' in 1985 and a vinyl album, 'made to be devoured' in 1987. John Peel played a track off the initial single but said that he 'wished the group had a simpler name, like the Moody Blues’' and never played another of the group's recordings.
They also played at the Glastonbury festival in 1988, but only on the 'warm-up' Thursday. It rained heavily and the only sound between songs was the buzz of scrambling motorbikes in an adjacent field. The group’s manager and one of their girlfriends stood alone, watching from under a large golf umbrella. "At the end though, the last few songs, when the sun came out and all these people wrapped in bin liners appeared from nowhere, nodding their heads and shaking the rain out of their hair. We had back stage passes for the whole festival but we went home as soon as we'd finished playing. We played the Ashton Court festival a few times of course, when it was free, before it turned into the total shit that it is now. We even played second to last on the main stage Saturday night once. The review in the paper said we 'went down like a fart in a spacesuit.' It was true too, all those people expecting a dance and a good time and everything. Hmmmm."
In 1988 the band recorded an album called 'death is eeklo' and went on a short tour of Belgium to promote it. The group’s minibus was found, empty, in a lay-by a mile or so outside of Waterloo. Half eaten bagettes, a cigarette still smoking in the ashtray. The tour was not completed and the album was never officially released.
In 1995 a benevolent caretaker rescued hundreds ( estimated to be 75% of the total number originally pressed ) of the group's vinyl records from a skip outside a Bristol music distribution factory. A lot of them have warped and look like shallow black bowls now. If you own a chorchazade record, you have a very rare thing.
One last look, before it all gets forgotten. It is 1988. Chorchazade ( pronounced Cork-uh-zade ) play at the Tropic Club in Bristol and are supported by a little known outfit from Sheffield called 'Pulp'. The singer of this group, Jarvis Cocker, calls out across an alley to the the singer of Chorchazade - Noel Morgan Lane - after the concert. It is two o’clock in the morning. The alley is dimly lit and very narrow. Mr Lane and a Chorchazade guitarist are struggling with a small table and two stools that they are stealing from the club, loading them into the back of a van. Jarvis Cocker calls out "you're a genius you are mate, a genius. To write music that sounds like THAT with two guitarists who can’t play!" "Oh, thanks" says Mr Lane, thinking that the Pulp singer is just another Morrisey clone and will never amount to much, returning his attention to the little round table and the two stools.
Then twenty years pass……jobs and houses and children, even periods of happiness. Chorchazade have rarely been in the same room together since the obligatory violent fragmentation.
They will never play together again. "Why should we?" they say.
One of them still has a dusty guitar, it leans against a wall in the spare room of his terraced house. The only sound it ever makes is when a train passes and the strings vibrate.
"I pick it up now and again, about once every two years. Less these days. I've forgotten how to play it. I wanted to forget, but now there's absolutley nothing. It's a funny feeling. I listened to the music for the first time in ten, maybe fifteen years yesterday. I thought the recordings were pretty dire. The chap who produced it, the two projects he worked on before and after recording our stuff, were a single by the comedian Jimmy Cricket called 'there's more' and Ken Dodd and the Diddymen's Christmas song. I'm not kidding. But he did write the theme tune to Question of Sport, though."
