Third Man Records may have hit the headlines last week because of founder Jack White performing a short set in Soho, Beatles-style, to launch the opening of their UK store, but the label isn’t just about show; following on from archive releases from The Stooges, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and White’s first band, they’ve dusted down a long-lost gem, albeit indirectly.
The only offering from Mancunians Magic Roundabout was discovered by Pale Saints’ Ian Masters who, enthralled by the contents of the master, handed it over to Third Man to remaster, studio hiss and all.
For the uninitiated (which is likely to be all of us, considering the ‘lost’ factor), Magic Roundabout were a cult band who, in the late 1980s, supported Inspiral Carpets, My Bloody Valentine, Spacemen 3 and The Pastels among others. One Noel Gallagher was rumoured to have been the roadie for their last ever gig.
To add to their mythical and cult status, the only crotchet of music nearly released by them was due to be a contribution to a fanzine cassette compiled by, of all people, Mark Webber of Pulp. The idea was subsequently shelved when Magic Roundabout disbanded.
Up finally sees the light of day nearly 35 years later and, unsurprisingly, it immediately transports the listener back to a time of brown wallpaper, cigarette smoke indoors, four TV channels and the looming and persistent threat of nuclear war – while things aren’t great right now, the darkness and desolation of that bleak decade still resonates.
Unsurprisingly, it also sounds a lot like the bands of the era, most notably The Jesus And Mary Chain. Each track is riddled with guitar feedback and simplistic bass lines.
Ears are duly pierced on Cast Your Sadness, which is nothing but pedal-altered guitar and bass for the first three-and-a-half minutes until some adrift vocals top if off. Carol In Your Eyes features a fiddle and more youthful, naïve vocals while being centred around an almost electronic guitar lick. It’s slight in stature when one considers it occupied the same galaxy as MBV, but they are two sides of the same coin.
The other prominent influence across the album is, as is freely admitted by all concerned, The Velvet Underground & Nico. While for much of its duration the vocals can’t really be discerned, they are precisely the same pitch as the German songstress achieved on the landmark 1968 album, particularly on the jangly She’s A Waterfall, complete with slouching guitar effects.
Sneaky Feelin’ is stomping drums, feedback and a simple, innocent melody which evolves into a chant as the drums speed up, while the title-track is layer upon layer of screeching guitars, drums and bass and detached vocals that create one united nose.
Meanwhile, words simply cannot do justice to the 19-minutes Alice’s Paper Plane, which rivals Revolution No. 9 in its avant-garde structure. Disparate, distant conversations collide with looped bass and experimental chords, along with some Floydian keys.
With no discernible structure until the last five minutes, as a hypnotic ‘it really doesn’t matter’ mantra asserts itself to dominate (just), it sounds like the band have raided the Radiophonic Workshop’s cupboards and thrown everything up in the air while cymbals are clashed and guitars are wrenched. Your enjoyment of the track will depend on your feelings towards progressive and experimental rock.
A fascinating insight into a truly creative musical period. Drowned out by their more popular peers, Magic Roundabout’s day in the sun is deserved.
