(Fire Records, England )
Reissue of the classic 1980 debut, And Don't The Kids Just Love It, from indie and punk cult heroes, The Television Personalities. For some, they have remained the quintessential Punk band, whilst for others they have become the foremost exponents of post-sixties pop psychedelia and an indelible influence on many of the early Creation label and C-86 bands as well as the likes of Kurt Cobain, Evan Dando and many, many others. The cover of And Don't The Kids Just Love It - a collage bringing together supermodel Twiggy and The Avengers' John Steed- is a strong indication of where the Television Personalities are coming from: their debut is a loving ode to sixties-era pop and pop culture, referencing movies (Look Back in Anger), Kinks-like class commentary (Geoffrey Ingram) and psychedelic casualties (I Know Where Syd Barrett Lives). It's a perfect introduction to the bands jangling psychedelic pop punk and Dan Treacy's whispy tales of love and life.
"Probably the definitive Television Personalities Artefact." - Alan McGee.
The first full album by Television Personalities, recorded after a four-year series of often brilliant D.I.Y. singles recorded under a variety of names, including the O-Level and the Teenage Filmstars, is probably the purest expression of Daniel Treacy's sweet-and-sour worldview. The songs, performed by Treacy, Ed Ball, and Mark Sheppard, predict both the C-86 aesthetic of simple songs played with a minimum of elaboration but a maximum of enthusiasm and earnestness and the later lo-fi aesthetic. The echoey, hissy production makes the songs sound as if the band were playing at the bottom of an empty swimming pool, recorded by a single microphone located two houses away, yet somehow that adds to the homemade charm of the record. Treacy's vocals are tremulous and shy, and his lyrics run from the playful 'Jackanory Stories' to several rather dark songs that foreshadow the depressive cast of many of his later albums. 'Diary of a Young Man', which consists of several spoken diary entries over a haunting, moody twang-guitar melody, is downright scary in its aura of helplessness and inertia. The mood is lightened a bit by some of the peppier songs, like the smashing 'World of Pauline Lewis' and the 'David Watts' rewrite 'Geoffrey Ingram', and the re-recorded version of the earlier single 'I Know Where Syd Barrett Lives', complete with deliberately intrusive prerecorded bird sounds, is one of the most charming things Television Personalities ever did. This album must have sounded hopelessly amateurish and cheaply ramshackle at the time of its 1981 release, but in retrospect, it's clearly a remarkably influential album that holds up extremely well. - Stewart Mason, AMG