The title of the book was enough to capture my attention, A Scene in Between: Tripping Through the Fashions of UK Indie Music 1980-1988. Upon its arrival at my house, I poured over every matte-print photograph of stylish yet seemingly anonymous musicians. They'd sport black and white horizontal striped shirts, drain-pipe jeans and scruffed-up Chelsea boots. Their heavy, hollow-bodied guitars would crumple billowy shirts, anoraks and duffle coats. The girls would accessorise familiar '50s polka-dot dresses with matching linen belts. Everyone would pose awkwardly on crumbling grey streets, they would play self-consciously on stages in pine-clad rec-halls among friends. It was all reminiscent of the life I had always wanted and the style I sought to revive... and then I saw this photograph of the Swansea band, The Pooh Sticks.

So Wylde
The photograph was the most sublime combination of style and inconvenience I had ever seen. Without hesitation I made it my Facebook profile picture, never stopping to consider whether anybody would appreciate what was so cool about it. Much of my fascination had to do with the fact that I've maintained a fringe for the best part of eight years and for me, fringe trims have always been an ordeal. Every six weeks, my obscured eyesight would remind me of my ongoing obligation and they were almost always poorly executed endeavours. Sure, it's a minor operation, cutting ten centimetres of hair across my face in a straight line but it usually results with stray strands and a mystifying jump in length over my left eyebrow. A slapdash hairdresser would brush me off, both physically and literally: "It's just your hair!" and I would have to stop myself from saying: "It's just one third of my freaking face!"

Aside from fringe trims, the photograph seems to fascinate me on an entirely different level. Sure, seeing, breathing and eating would be quite difficult with such a trendy aesthetic, but I love the idea of losing yourself, ultimately sacrificing your face to style. I love the idea that a person can choose anonymity, particularly in the face of cultural recognition. Identification, attribution and celebration appears to be such an integral part of the art-making process that choosing to be anonymous seems to be such a bizarre notion. Then again, it's kind of sweet to think that all you really need to know about them is contained here. You can't see their faces, sure, but you can see it in how he tilts his head, how the other holds his cigarette, how they all stand together as they do. They're the ones with attitude, with swagger. They're the ones who understood the thrill and the value of '60s garage.

I want to be in their gang.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Jangle Pop Podcast #60
The Fire Engines - Big Gold Dream
Orange Juice - Falling and Laughing
The Servants - Aim in Life
The Direct Hits - Captivating Eyes
Primal Scream - May the Sun Shine Bright for You
Marine Girls - A Place in the Sun
Strawberry Switchblade - Go Away
June Brides - Heard You Whisper
Phil Wilson - 10 Miles
Talulah Gosh - Talulah Gosh

Download (48.5 MB)

Andrew has promised we'll return there, to that vast hall of musical memorabilia in Osaka. It was called the Rock n Roll Museum, for some reason, but it did little to disguise the fact that it was a merch house, a place to purchase Clash pencil cases, mod target tea-cups and Queen belts. I maintain that we only spent a few minutes there, but I'm sure Missy Laur insists we spent hours walking around, fondling every item from every section, from Britpop to Hair Metal. I only wish I'd bought something.

It's rare to get excited about band merch, although I can recall instances where I have marvelled at an excessively priced item at a gig (navy blue tshirt at Coldplay, 2003; light blue tshirt at the Faint, 2004; navy blue tshirt at New Order, 2012). I often bemoan their lack of originality, either the band tshirts are so incredibly large that they can comfortably house 2-3 males (black tshirt at Pet Shop Boys, 2007) or in the case of female tshirts, they shrink and rise up (black tshirt at Bloc Party, 2005).

I like to imagine that there is a marked increase in the creativity of band tshirts. Sure, many of Ben Sherman's licensed Beatles t-shirts still mirror their album artwork but there are also more obtuse references to the band in their collection. My favourite is a print from the opening moments of the film Yellow Submarine: men standing on rooftops, wearing trenchcoats and bowler hats, holding umbrellas. It's only a momentary shot but those who have seen it, know it.

For now, I must pack my bags as I honestly have no time left. I'll pack my various band tshirts, my Beatles, Queen and my favourite Pet Shop Boys tshirt (with the artwork from their 1987 single, Heart). I'm unsure whether Japanese passers-by will recognise such references brandished across my chest, but then, that's not really the point: I get it. But then I have to remind myself that it's not always the point, after all there was that time I accosted a poor Korean girl atop the Capitoline Hill in Rome. I stopped to marvel at her stunning Style Council tshirt and she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.

I've decided to leave you all with a podcast in celebration of our momentary jaunt to Japan! Also, be sure to head on over to the C&CM Facebook Page to pick up a bonus easter egg! Arigato!

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Japan Podcast #43
YMCK - Karee Ta Yo!
The Bird and the Bee - Love Letter for Japan
Ayano Tsuji - Kaze ni Naru
Girls' Generation - Mr Taxi
Pet Shop Boys - Flamboyant
City-O' - Rose of Tokyo
Graham Parker and the Rumour - Discovering Japan
Bloc Party - Secrets
Blur - Yuko and Hiro
Queen - Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together)

Download (65.6 MB)