During the late period of Britpop, when all around were losing their heads to either the meat and potatoes sound of Oasis, or the cod-Cockney knees up of Blur, it would take a band from the ever uncool region of the North West where the border straddles England and Wales, to provide some more progressive thrills and spills to a music scene increasingly drifting into a cocaine addled mundane haze. Arriving seemingly out of nowhere, Mansun, with their almost perfectly formed debut album Attack Of The Grey Lantern performed the not so minor feat of hiding what was essentially progressive rock behind a veneer of lad rock mixed with a dance sensibility. On the surface they were catchy enough to hit the top of the charts, but underneath there lay a dark and mysterious band.
The clues were there, on that opening track ‘The Chad Who Loved Me’, as the orchestral flourishes give way to a soaring guitar. They sounded fully formed, which was all the more remarkable for the fact that they generally learnt all these songs within the studio. Of course, they hadn’t just landed in the studio without any pedigree, and early singles ‘Take It Easy Chicken’ and ‘Egg Shaped Fred’ would tickle the fancy of both Steve Lamacq and John Peel. The former, in particular, enjoying a rather remarkable streak with his Evening Session, would play more than a small part in ensuring Mansun’s name would stay at the forefront of the new “indie” crowd.
Often assumed to be a concept album, and in part this was true, it is perhaps more well known outside of fan circles for its ubiquitous singles, and in particular ‘Wide Open Space’. With its chiming tone, it made for a classic club remix lifting the band into that echelon of crossover bands. With the late 90’s being a period of crossover mentality this was not unusual but when you consider the rest of the songs on the album, they seem like unlikely candidates. That said, behind the Beatles like ‘Taxloss’, and the driving ‘Stripper Vicar’ there was an urgent shuffle which played out to the club crowd. That the album also contained darker, moodier far such as ‘Dark Mavis’ just meant they would fit into that comedown culture of guitar bands to pay out after the pumped up beats.
It’s the sheer ambition that shines through on this album, with Mansun taking that one step further with follow up Six. Here they remain playful and whilst ‘Disgusting’ may err towards a soulful mourn, they colour it with little moments of joyful melody. On this reissue, each element is driven to the fore as the orchestral background allows for these vignettes to bounce about. 21 years on, you hear things which you have never heard before, or probably cant remember.
Packed with the usual demo’s which offer a look into the genesis of the band, it is through two early sessions for John Peel and Radio 1 that you get a tiny glimpse at the band they would become. That a record label would provide them with £25,000 to simply throw out on to a busy Liverpool street (for the ‘Taxloss’ video) may show both faith and a blasé attitude to the music industry, in the end that belief paid off. There is certainly a lesson to be learnt there for the modern music industry, although it’s worth noting that as bright as they burnt for Attack Of The Grey Lantern, their star would slowly fall, albeit with a string of albums which more than lived up to the expectations set by this debut. Listening back now, after 1 years, you are not only struck by how well this music has stood up, but also by the sheer audacity of it all. A welcome reissue by one of the more interesting bands of the Britpop period. Maybe now they will get the recognition they deserve.
