I live in London, I studied in London and have lived in London for seven of my 33 years, but I’m not really that metropolitan a guy. I come from a town called Leigh-on-Sea, which is the 20th-century outgrowth of a medieval fishing village nowadays known as Old Leigh, all of which has been absorbed into the larger unitary borough of Southend-on-Sea. Southend has a certain reputation amongst people who don’t live there, one it tends to embrace to its own detriment. I wasn’t born there, my parents don’t come from there but I’ve lived there for two-thirds of my life and in some fundamental way I still think of Leigh – oh, all right: of Southend – as home. London is 40 miles, and a psychological world, away. When I arrived at university, I couldn’t have felt more like a kid from the boondocks. Everyone, every single full-of-shit 18-year-old kid I met who lived with their parents the week before, seemed more sophisticated than me.
London’s musical history isn’t something I take any great pride in, then. As the capital and absolute centre of the UK music industry, London has some kind of claim on the vast majority of music that’s come out of these isles. And when you come from a town in the shadow of London, there aren’t many local heroes. In Southend we’ve got Dr Feelgood (actually from Canvey Island, but close enough), Eddie & the Hot Rods (ditto), the Kursaal Flyers, Gary Brooker and Robin Trower from Procol Harum, some of Busted, My Life Story, Tina Cousins, the Horrors (who got the hell out as soon as they could), a few members of Menswear. For obvious reasons, we don’t talk about many of them.
We also have Talk Talk, whose connection is a little tenuous. Paul Webb and Lee Harris went to school in Southend, and Mark Hollis’s brother Ed managed Eddie & the Hot Rods.
Talk Talk are the best we’ve got, the only group in that list who have produced genuinely classic albums (apologies to Procol Harum).
Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock are monumental pieces of work, deeply atmospheric and hushed, with songs that take days, or even weeks, to seep into you but will undoubtedly do so if you give them the time they need. They’re the band’s most celebrated work these days (amazing to think that the 1992 Rolling Stone Albums Guide gave Spirit of Eden precisely one star – “Instead of getting better or worse, this band simply grew more pretentious with each passing year”), but the group are remembered, if at all, by more casual music fans for their early singles: Talk Talk, Today, It’s My Life and Life’s What You Make It.
The slowest burning of slow-burning hits (its highest chart placing – 13 – in the UK came the third time it was released, in 1990), It’s My Life, for all its synth hooks and seagull noises and Mark Hollis’s tremulous vocal, derives its force from the drive provided by Paul Webb’s fretless bass, the song’s restless heart. Without a guitar to compete with, the bass dominates the track completely. No Doubt’s flat cover, which replaced most of the keyboards with Tom Dumont’s guitars, only proved how good the original arrangement was. Credit, then, to the best rhythm section ever to come out of Southend, Essex.