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Reissues are all the rage these days. It seems every week the new releases list is filled with more and more old names. Whether it's the reissuing of Beatles' albums in their American versions, Bob Dylan or Rolling Stones albums in 5.1 SACD surround sound, Pavement albums with dozens of unreleased tracks, or the seventh-best Sonic Youth album with a boatload of "rehearsal recordings", many of the most talked about albums of today are at least a decade old.
There's nothing inherently wrong with all of this -- great music certainly deserves to be revisited -- but the fact remains that it has become a growing trend because these releases are such cash cows. It's all about adding that little something extra and getting people to fork over cash for a record they very likely already own. So that's why the Flatmates' Love and Death is such a welcome relief from the current deluge of reissues. Its modesty goes a long way. There's no essay by [insert esteemed rock critic here] telling us why this album is so important. There's no pontificating by band members about the unique "atmosphere" during the recording of the album. There are no superfluous demos or outtakes that grow old after a handful of listens, if that. If you're looking for the usual bells and whistles that go along with a reissue, you won't find any of those here. Nope, all you'll find here is a long out-of-print, genre-defining album that remains as vital and inspiring as ever. It's surprising that no one got around to re-releasing this record sooner -- it would only take a random check of eBay once a month or so to see original copies of Love and Death regularly going for upwards of $50. In a genre where obscurity is one of the key prerequisites in becoming legendary, the scarcity of Love and Death certainly contributed to the increased interest in the Flatmates over the past few years. Despite not appearing on the actual Creation Records compilation, the Flatmates were certainly a part of the British C-86 scene. The band formed in Bristol in 1986 and gigged regularly around the Kingdom until its demise in March 1989. Although they've often been given the "twee" tag in recent years, it's really not a label that fits. In fact, punk is very much at the heart of the Flatmates' sound, and just one listen to this record (which includes a spot-on version of Rocket to Russia's "I Don't Care") will make clear that the Ramones were the band's biggest influence. Yes, there's some definite shambling going on here and the guitars are far more jangly than anything Johnny Ramone ever played, but in terms of songwriting the basic Ramones formula is on display: catchy, concise, and fun as hell. Just because there's a female singer and not as much distortion, that doesn't automatically make it twee. The a-sides of the band's first two singles, "I Could Be in Heaven" and "Happy All the Time", are deliriously catchy pop gems that are near impossible to listen to while sitting down. The Ramones' influence is clear from the beginning as vocalist Deb Haynes puts her own twist on a classic Ramones theme, singing "I wanna hang around with you" before breaking into a joyful "ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba". She also showcases a very Joey Ramone-esque hiccup (as in "Hey, Romeo-ah!") throughout the track, which is certainly as timeless as anything off the first few Ramones albums. "Happy All the Time" follows the same basic formula, with guitarist Martin Whitehead (who wrote the majority of these songs) delivering a snappy intro before the rhythm section breaks into an almost surf-rock groove. Haynes' vocals are delivered with the glee that one would expect from a song with such a title, but there's a certain strength to them as well. She's certainly a more assertive vocalist than many of her male C-86 counterparts, which is just another reason why the band's twee tag is befuddling. "Shimmer" is another highlight, and shows the band becoming more confident in its sound while at the same time expanding it. A squall of feedback at the beginning of the track hints that this will be a slight departure for the Flatmates, and it's confirmed when the big, echo-y (as in the actual sound and the Bunnymen) drums come in, along with Whitehead's briskly-strummed, David Gedge-inspired guitar. The song moves slower than those that precede it, but this helps give it a fuller, heavier sound. These elements lend the song a distinctly '80s flavor, which differentiates it from the majority of the group's other material. Similar production values have marred many a song by the group's contemporaries, but the judicious use here combined with the top-notch songwriting make it one of many timeless classics on the album. Yes, the word "classic" gets thrown around a lot, but in this case it's legit. Each of the 19 tracks on here could stand on its own as a mix-tape centerpiece. There's an inherent familiarity to each of the tunes, but there's never a feeling of redundancy. By stripping away what had at that point become the unnecessary aggression of punk and using its basic blueprint as the foundation of their songs, the Flatmates helped make the world safe for kids who wanted to bash out hooky, major chord-driven songs, but who didn't want to deal with all of the posturing. The fact that, until now, this album could only be enjoyed by indie pop fans who had the good fortune (literally and figuratively) to track it down was a minor travesty. Now that it's available again, it shouldn't go unnoticed. Those other reissues can wait; if all that bonus material that you have to wade through was so great, it would have found its way onto an album. There's nothing to wade through on Love and Death. You won't be hitting the "next" button at all, but you'll be hitting "repeat" a whole lot. reviewed by: David Malitz for Popmatters |
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While The Iron Lady of British Politics, Margaret Thatcher, ruled the nation and a dejected Morrissey ruled the airwaves with mopey songs about shoplifters, fat girls and their even fatter mothers, The Flatmates pushed aside politics and disenchantment and were just there to have a good time. In the meantime, they also made good music.
With the recent resurgence of jangly tweepop with bands like The Aislers Set and Belle & Sebastian, The Flatmates' long out-of-print LP, Love And Death, could only be found on eBay going for two day's salary. Luckily Clairecords, a Sacramento-based label known for shoegazers Mahogany, Con Dolore and Monster Movie, has finally re-released the 18 original songs, along with a Ramones cover of "I Don't Care" and an untitled bonus track. The Flatmates began their short career in Bristol in 1985 and became an instant favorite, especially amongst the popular C86 crowd which included Primal Scream and The Mighty Lemon Drops. Love And Death kicks off with "I Could Be In Heaven," the first single released by The Flatmates in September of 1986. This irresistible pop song with its infectious "bop bop bop bop bop bop" refrain shows why The Flatmates sound has remained timeless throughout all these years. The indie hit "Shimmer" stands out, not just because of the beautiful imagery its music and lyrics provoke, but because of its sheer catchiness. While "see me shimmer in the night / Like a firefly burning bright / Shimmer shimmer baby for your love," won't win any poetry contests, when added to the blissed-out, overdriven guitars of Martin Whitehead and Tim Rippington and the simplistic, upbeat drumming of Rocker, "Shimmer" becomes an instant classic. "Shimmer" is truly jangle pop at its most primitive, and surprisingly at its best. Deb Haynes' vocals at times are similar to Debbie Harry at her most sassy, and yet at other times are able to capture the endearing innocence of late-1960s garage girl group Feminine Complex. The only downside to The Flatmates' modest approach is that the songs tend to blend together at times, making it difficult to distinguish one from another. While this happens more often than not on Love And Death, the ingenious, unpretentious nature of The Flatmates' sound is what makes Love And Death an underrated, timeless pop gem that remains as fresh and chromatic as it did nearly 20 years ago. reviewed by: Mita Tate for The Chronicle |
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The Flatmates enjoyed modest popularity and mild commercial success during C86 pop's mid- to late-eighties heyday. They helped to lay the framework for modern indie-pop, but like so many other would-be-seminal acts, they didn't reap the rewards; cheery, jangly pop songs weren't an easy sell with the tearaways of Margaret Thatcher's Britain. To make matters worse, the group's long-planned LP on London Records never actually materialized, so three years' worth of The Flatmates' best work sat on a shelf, accumulating dust... until now.
Fifteen years after the fact, The Flatmates' magnum opus has been reborn as Love and Death -- eighteen jangly originals, a cover of The Ramones' "I Don't Care", and a medleyish bonus track. By now we should be used to this phenomenon: the Internet gives every band, however small, a chance to be a bona fide phenomenon, so it's no surprise that canny label folks and closure-less musicians want to salvage the unfinished business of prior decades and have another go. The Flatmates have as good a chance as any of them. Vocalist Deb Haynes had a far more robust, Deborah Harryish sound than most of today's weedy, amateurish indie-pop singers, and guitarist/songwriter Martin Whitehead knew how to pen solid melodies, touching on fifties girl-group pop ("So In Love With You"), upbeat Britpop bliss ("Happy All The Time") and more robust takes on Television Personalities' awkward, yearning, paisley-spotted oeuvre. You'll be reminded, intermittently, of such worthies as The Housemartins, The Primitives, The Close Lobsters, Mighty Lemon Drops, Shop Assistants... and the list goes on. Fifteen years on, The Flatmates' stakes are much lower; whatever happens to Love and Death from this point forward, at least it made it into the shops this time! The world obviously didn't end when the album failed to hit the streets back in '89, and its familiar-sounding songs are unlikely to be a life-changing experience now, but it's still a pleasant way to spend an hour. reviewed by: George Zahora for Splendid |
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A reissue of a 1990 compendium of the five EPs released by the Flatmates, a Bristol-based quartet that scored a handful of British hits before calling it a day in 1989, this album shows that certain pop strains are nothing if not timeless.
Led by the affecting vocals of Deb Haynes and the songwriting talents of guitarist Martin Whitehead, the Flatmates created pop songs that sparkle with crystalline melodies, belying the roughshod recording quality. So while a certain sweetness permeates each of the 20 cuts, the songs' tattered edges kept the band from becoming too precious. There's no denying the promise (or charm) in songs like "Happy All the Time" and "Shimmer" that attracted major labels to check out the band at the time. But it's somehow fitting that the Flatmates were preserved in this pristine state, their loose ends unmended by major-label money. As it is, they remain a band for the ages. reviewed by: Stephen Slaybaugh for Columbus Alive |
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There's almost nothing I dig more than that fuzzy/pounding C-86 sound and The Flatmates are/were among the best at it. I put bands like Shop Assistants, Strawberry Story, Tallulah Gosh, The Primitives, Darling Buds (1st record only), and, of course, The Flatmates (and many others) in that perfect dream-gig in the sky and at that gig The Flatmates would set up and let all the other bands use their equipment and it would be one big , happy party to fuzzbox heaven ! Anywho this band existed in the U.K. in the 80's an this stuff was records between the years in the title and I guess was supposed to come out on London Records but never did so the smart folks over at Clairecords released it for us nearly 16 years later and I'll just end by saying it's essential Brit pop.
reviewed by: Dagger |
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A reissue of the Subway Organization release from 1990, Love and Death is a fine period piece and a nice change for Clairecords. This is pure, sloppy British pop. Not pop as Yanks play it, but more like the bands on the recommended and recent Rough Trade Shops compilation Indiepop 1. The Flatmates were nearly there in the late 1980s with the right gigs, label interest and good hum-along songs, but their full-length album for London Records never emerged. The band features edgy female vocals semi-sweetly pushed across jagged but tuneful guitars and functional drumming. Low-fidelity production and occasionally errant playing may annoy some, but the tarnished charm of the band’s developing songs reaches a nice plateau on “Shimmer” and with the multitracked girl-group polish of “Heaven Knows.”
reviewed by: Barry M. Prickett for Newsreview.com |
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Ze hadden bij Clairecords toch net het debuut van The Frenchmen uitgebracht, dus in het kader van historisch besef leek een reissue van één van hun grote voorbeelden wel op zijn plaats. The Flatmates' bestaan liep gelijk met Engelands eerste grote indiepopgolf: opgericht in 1985, opgeheven kort voor het einde van het decennium en in die tijd was de band niet eens zo heel obscuur. Love And Death, oorspronkelijk in 1989 uitgebracht als compilatie van een vijftal singles, in deze heruitgave zijn nog wat extra nummers toegevoegd, biedt een goed overzicht van het oeuvre van de band en is in die mate essentieel dat je voor het meeste originele materiaal tegenwoordig veel geld neer moet tellen. Als je het überhaupt al kunt vinden. En iets van The Flatmates in de kast misstaat eigenlijk helemaal niet tussen al die veelal Schotse C86-bands als BMX Bandits, vroege Pastels en hele vroege Primal Scream (The Flatmates zelf kwamen overigens uit Bristol). Het voornaamste verschil met die bands is dat The Flatmates iets minder van de melancholie en iets meer van de twee-akkoorden punk waren. The Ramones op appelsap ofzoiets. Het maakte Flatmates er zeker niet minder leuk op en dat op haar beurt zorgt ervoor dat deze compilatie ook vijftien jaar na datum nog fris genoeg uit de cd-speler klinkt.
reviewed by: Martijn Grooten for Think Small (Nederland) |
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Britain in the mid-'80s was a horrific place to be, what with Thatchernomics, race riots, and the mainstream goop of synth-pop and miserablist rock. Formed in reaction to this environment, Bristol's Flatmates attempted to bring music back to the basics: three chords, no synths, all lyrics about luv. The group's tunes -- written and released between 1986 and 1989 and just now finding their way stateside via Sacto's Clairecords -- were punk draped in an anorak, the chaos of the fuzz-sawing guitars coated by sugary hooks and Deb Haynes' girl-group cheer. Whether starry-eyed or vengeful (see "And I'm gonna smile and I'm gonna laugh and I'm gonna burn your photograph/ I'm gonna smile and I'm gonna tease, you're gonna get down on your bended knees" from "You're Gonna Cry"), Haynes was a force of nature, as tough and tender as Chrissy Hynde ever was. Haynes' singing and Martin Whitehead's reckless guitars make the Flatmates' songs sound timeless, as fresh and vibrant as they did nearly 20 years ago.
reviewed by: Dan Strachota for SF Weekly |
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Hey, finally!! There's a Flatmates collection out on CD that's easily available to the public... Now I don't have to digitize my 12"s after all!! Subway Records, along with the more successful Creation label, was one of the more influential sources of British indiepop in the late 1980s, and Bristol, England's fab, fissile Flatmates was one of their coolest bands. With a simple, direct, melody-driven approach, the Flatmates bowled over their microscopic but immeasurably loyal fan base, with jangly, riff-heavy power-pop that had a nice, fat sound... Equal parts girl group and Ramones, with LOTS of groovy guitars. In keeping with my old radio station's long tradition of venerating gals who can't quite sing that well (X-Ray Spex, Kleenex, Rachael Sweet, PJ Harvey...) I became an instant convert, playing their songs on so many shows it's a little bit embarassing to admit. Twee? Perhaps... but they also rocked! There's a Flatmates cult out there that will be in ecstasy over this long-overdue reissue disc, and newbies should check 'em out, too... The band's old, original records are impossibly hard to find, so this reissue of the Love And Death collection is a real score, an undiluted blast of pure pop fun. Listening back to it, I'm amazed by how well it all holds up, and how many songs still give me a jolt of headbanging adrenalin. For me, this is a must-have album. Then, for diehard fans, there's also the new odds'n'ends Potpourri retrospective, which has few more rough spots, but also adds a few nice notes to this band's modest legacy. Both albums are nice looks back at a playful band who were a real missing link in the whole pre-Oasis Britpop panorama. Highly recommended!
reviewed by: Joe Sixpack for Slipcue |
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