A Personal History by Alistair Fitchett
Despite what seemed like almost blanket coverage in the teen-mags, however, Strawberry Switchblade failed to score another chart hit. The follow up single 'Let Her Go' never quite hit the same marks, but still deserved better than the reception of indifference it seemed to meet with. A little too one-paced to be a treasurable Pop Moment, it lacked the subtleties or suppleness of 'Since Yesterday' and left little to the imagination. Still, it towered head and shoulders above most of the trounced up pap like Go-West, 5 Star or Animotion that it had to compete against.
The real treasures on the 'Let Her Go' record lurked on the flip side. As with most of their songs, it seems the best recordings came when they were performed as pared down recordings. Avoiding expensive recording techniques, they shone fiercest in session or near demo situations, and 'Beautiful End' and 'Michael Who Walks By Night' show this perfectly. Recorded for the Janice Long show on Radio One, they gave a hint at the spacious, pastoral side of Strawberry Switchblade that most teen punters barely knew (or cared) existed. But neither this nor the kitsch release of a strawberry shaped picture disc could convince the kids to push it into the charts.
The debut eponymous LP appeared quickly in the wake of 'Let Her Go' and fared only marginally better - denting the upper reaches of the chart before promptly disappearing from view.
It was a flawed record, sure, but that was only part of the deal. Techno-trickery robbed several of the older, familiar songs of their poise, and it took months before I could listen to the versions of 'Go Away' or 'Little River' without wincing. Playing it again it still sounds a bit prone to '80s overdose of tinny tap techno noises, but the perfect moments still way overshadow the disappointments.
Basically, there are two sorts of songs; the burbling POP! hits (or misses) and the misty, moody ones. The fast ones hurtle along breathlessly, whilst the slow ones conjure up a kind of gothic Jane Austin; all lace blowing in your tearful eyes sort of scene. Which actually sounds belittling, and in fact '10 James Orr Street' and 'Being Cold' are beautiful balladeering mementoes you ought to treasure forever.
A third single was released in late summer '85, and was as vital as any for a number of reasons, not least because the lead track, the gorgeous and lush 'Who Knows What Love Is?' is one of their finest moments. The other two tracks were equally good. 'Poor Hearts' is upbeat, another slice of great Pop. It is the sound of late night Struthers playground, sitting atop a climbing frame, lost, lonely and confused with thoughts of a blood splattered bedroom, pink flags and destructive relationships. Strawberry Switchblade were a great teenage pop group.
The other track on the single was the Kitchensynchmixup of 'Let Her Go'; a brutal re-mix from the hands of Balfe, Drummond and Youth (then of Brilliant), who were already making moves towards their later emergence as Dance Terrorists of the highest order.
At this time too their image began to alter. Gone were the multi-layered cascades of ribbons and polka-dots, replaced by a move towards simple black leather and PVC - like Venus In Furs adapted for the Smash Hits generation. The video carried this idea through to perfection, being almost a parody of crossed genres, mixing Rose decked out in black leather, chained within a cage, with Jill in soft focus white lace; the romantic idyll. For a while they had the video on the video jukebox in Troon's dubious, solitary disco, and we would spend evenings annoying all and sundry by playing it over and over. Once again however all this failed to convince the record buying public that Strawberry Switchblade should ever be remembered as anything more then one-hit wonders.
1985 had started with such hope for Strawberry Switchblade, but ended in such despair; a fact which my own life mirrored with agonising accuracy. New affairs had developed under the light of their Pop brilliance, and had just as swiftly turned sour. The pained fumblings of disastrous teenage love and lust came crushingly to light that year, leaving scars that can still itch with discomfort today, nearly a decade later. What began as frivolous fun to the strains of 'Since Yesterday' ended with dark, drunk depressions listening to 'Psychocandy'; fittingly groups from opposite ends of the same spectrum first glimpsed in the pages of Juniper Beri Beri.
A final single slipped out prior to Christmas '85 to end Strawberry Switchblade's year on a suitably strange note. A cover version of the country and western favourite 'Jolene', this saw Strawberry Switchblade give their final and most bizarre TV performance. Appearing on the lunchtime 'Pebble Mill At One' show, Rose and Jill created a most peculiar and gratifyingly punk-rock image. Shoehorned into short PVC dresses, they wore a minimum of make-up and finally looked like the scabby witches they always insisted they were. Flailing their arms in that idiosyncratic windmill fashion, they displayed un-shaven armpits and clear ripples of flab. It was so un-glamorous, so utterly vicious and uplifting. It seemed like a last great Fuck You to the industry, and I for one was crying with delight.
Despite that though, 'Jolene' was the one Strawberry Switchblade record that I never did buy. More into the June Brides, Jasmine Minks, Hurrah! or The Loft to pay much attention, I left it to be picked up at a later date. That later date never did arrive though, and to this day I regret that gap in my collection. Record fairs, junk shops and jumble sales' record racks have all been scoured, but so far in vain. Perhaps one day...
When 1985 blinked into 1986, Strawberry Switchblade were all but forgotten. Dropped by Warners' subsidiary Korova, they slipped back into obscurity, with Rose flirting with various projects and Jill it seemed almost disappearing from the face of the planet.
By the time the second half of the decade lurched into action the notion of the New Pop too had become all but forgotten. In the aftermath of Live Aid, Rock's Oldest Guard enjoyed a resurgence in popularity, and in harmony with the culture of the times it was overblown conservative pomp that ruled the day. No longer an arena for fancy and risk taking, the face of chart pop changed to grey, empty, gestural rock histrionics. Phil Collins and Dire Straits were revered as teen idols, and even someone like the Eurythmics, who had begun with New Pop hopes, became sanitised dull fodder for Ford Sierra drivers. 1986 was a dreadful time to be a teenager.
1986 was a brilliant time to be a teenager. The New Pop may have been stamped on by corporate Rock hippies in suits, but the Underground was all the more vibrant as a result. Paul Morley's reference points were to be seen in much of the insurgent independent scene, and the Creation label should have become the perfect New Pop label.
Creation was flawed, but it was pure Pop obsession, and that was what counted. It's best acts and records showed off the New Pop influences perfectly. The Jesus and Mary Chain would cover 'Ambition', whilst fellow noise terrorists Meat Whiplash took their name from a Fire Engines song and would speak fervently about the importance of Godard and The Subway Sect. Best of all were the Jasmine Minks and The Bodines, with their shades of 'Adventure' Television meets Devoto's Magazine. That Strawberry Switchblade should find a welcome at the door of Creation was only to be expected. They came from the same tradition, and shared a lot from the past. A lot of the Faces at Creation had come from the same kinds of Glasgow punk and post-punk circles that Rose and Jill had come from, and the associations seemed only natural. Jill had, after all, been closely involved in Juniper Beri Beri with Stephen and Aggi Pastel, and McGee himself had been a satellite member of the hazy Postcard scene, observing and absorbing Horne's triumphs and mistakes.
Strawberry Switchblade never made a record for Creation, though there was a lot of talk and hopes. Rose had demos of a number of songs that she had recorded under the moniker 'Sunflower' from 1985 (presumably late '85 when Strawberry Switchblade were all but finished), October '86 and March/April of 1987, but of these only 'Beautiful End' appeared as a bona-fide release (as a Strawberry Switchblade side to a dodgy bootlegged 12" b-side). 'Crystal Days', from the 1987 session, cropped up as the released in 1988 by a strange Switchblade fan, which Rose tried to get withdrawn by her lawyers. The a-side of the single was a cover of Blue Oyster Cult's 'Don't Fear The Reaper', and adds little to the story in terms of quality. Of the other Sunflower tracks, however, there was much to take heart from, despite the fact that the lack of Jill's harmonies left a discernible gap. Best were the slower tracks like 'Tibet', 'Winds Of Heaven' or the moody 'Soldier', although songs like 'Sunboy' and the great 'So Vicious' showed a true heart of Pop still beating strongly.
Strawberry Switchblade may not have released any further records, on Creation or otherwise, but they did perform some memorable shows. The most notable was the first in Brighton, where rock'n'roll excess was much in evidence, although the stories of Rose dancing naked in a cage in the club run by Bobby Gillespie have not been confirmed. Not that the re-formed Strawberry Switchblade shows were not suitably peculiar events. Using a backing band constructed of members of numerous Creation groups, they were a weird amalgam of styles and statures. You could count members of the Weather Prophets, Biff Bang Pow!, Primal Scream and Felt on stage at any one time, each adding some definitive ingredient to proceedings. Best was Lawrence, who played entirely with his back to the audience. Press hacks suggested this was because he was embarrassed, but typically Lawrence answered in dead pan that he was just trying to hear his monitor. There were plans for this 'Creation Supergroup' to tour as Strawberry Switchblade that summer and autumn, but typically they remained as merely fanciful ideas, as Creation began chasing grander schemes with new rock darlings House Of Love and My Bloody Valentine.
So ended the hopes of a Strawberry Switchblade revival, and inevitably too the story of the eighties' New Pop dream. That Creation should within five years see it's greatest successes come courtesy of the type of Rock that Subway Sect or Fire Engines set out to destroy was as finally ironic as swallowing the corporate dream, and the almost concurrent re-appearance of Postcard with a resurgent Vic Godard at the forefront of their avant garde Popism. Perhaps if Godard can be rescued from the shadows then there is yet hope for a Strawberry Switchblade reformation, to put out records that would again compete as Pop masterpieces. Perhaps not...
In the end, though, what does all this lead to? After all the history and jigsaw associations have fallen away what I'm left with are still just the memories; painful and exhilarating both. It's all that great Pop should ever expect to be really, and instead of the thoughts of polka-dots and ribbons, all that Strawberry Switchblade should ultimately be remembered for.
Alistair Fitchett, 1994.
From the Tangents website, 'home of unpopular culture' where there is a lot of writings with a similar level of insight, brilliance, sensitivity, intelligence and enthusiasm.
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