THE HOUSEMARTINS – "Caravan Of Love"

Yes this is the nearest we get to a C86 chart topper. The Housemartins weren’t on that tape but in their dress sense, indie label, tinny guitar (albeit relatively buffed-up) sound and student-y intelligence they were at least close cousins.

I always found their success in 1986 rather perplexing. In both image and music they seemed out of their time. To me “Happy Hour” was utterly average and yet both my mum and my indie-loving best mate liked it. What was I missing ? Perhaps they inherited some of the nation’s love for early Madness with their jokey videos ?

Difficult to see this hitting number one at any other time of the year (though it failed to be the actual Christmas number one), it’s pleasant enough and certainly better than the dreadful version of “He Ain’t Heavy” (also on the EP so watch out for the trick question in pop quizzes).

As he didn’t write this one we’ll leave discussion of Paul Heaton’s absurdly overestimated reputation as a lyricist until 1990 shall we ?

The original version of “Caravan Of Love” was released in 1985; written and performed by Isley, Jasper, Isley – effectively the next generation of Isley Brothers – it is an affecting update on the “People Get Ready” template; a call to unite which could easily double as a call to arms (“It’s time to stand up and fight”). Although it doesn’t surpass the exacting standards set by the Impressions song (and doesn’t “People Get Ready” bear the sweetest smile of any loaded gun in pop? Even Lennon had to bow down before Mayfield’s genius – the Christmas carol glockenspiel, the ethereal, benign harmonies all concealing instructions for uprising and revolution), “Caravan Of Love” again spoke for the dispossessed of the Thatcher/Reagan era, those who either wouldn’t join in or had been deliberately left out of the party.

In a Britain which, in late 1986, was as divided and defeated as ever following the aftermath of the miners’ and steelworkers’ routs, where the nation’s family silver was routinely being auctioned off to the highest bidder (that winter’s “tell Sid” British Gas privatisation campaign was a particularly loathsome example of free market brutalism masquerading as comfy homeliness), it is likewise easy to understand what a song like “Caravan Of Love,” with its entreaties to protect and rebuild “The place in which we were born/So neglected and torn apart,” would mean to whatever was left of the community. In Britain, the hit version – and the first true acappella number one – came from the Housemartins, the nearest thing 1986 had to a people’s band; though essentially indie, they weren’t quite pop, not exactly soul and nowhere near folk. And, like Arthur Lee’s Love, they were a group of probable murderous psychopaths who dressed up in cheerful pullovers and sang wry reflections on thrusting Thatcherkids (“Happy Hour”) or the futility of rootless charity (“Flag Day”) in perfect harmony.

As with Larkin, they were content to remain in Hull, handily just out of reach of the metropolis, the kind of corner into which all true poets must crawl sooner or later – the title of their debut album, London 0 Hull 4, was a deliberate act of protectionism and pride, and for the 1987 Brit awards they deliberately stayed in Hull to accept their award by video rather than venture down to the capital, an act which caused much malice on the part of Radio 1 controllers.

“Caravan Of Love” was their “winter warmer” of a Christmas offering; though the harmonies are necessarily simplified from the original, it is finely sung, and Paul Heaton’s cracked lead vocal – part pleading, part threatening – is an ideal conduit for the message being delivered. It was their most popular single, and the only mutterings of discontent came from the music press, who accused UK radio of inherent racism for playing the Housemartins cover but not the Isley, Jasper, Isley original. By the most bemusing of ironies, its intended status as 1986’s Christmas number one was to be denied by a rearguard action from that precise direction, resulting in the most bizarre and problematic of all Christmas number ones. That particular story will follow next.

Based on a superficial knowledge of their singles I filed the Housemartins somewhere between The Smiths and Madness with their dour but upbeat music. I’ve never felt any urge to buy or seek to listen to any of their stuff which reflects the lack of ambition of their kitchen sink realism. It took a vaguely gospel/soul tune to get them the Christmas Number 1 – perhaps another coalition: of indie kids and stocking stuffing grandmas.

TOTPWatch: The Housemartins twice performed ‘Caravan Of Love’ on Top Of The Pops;

11 December 1986. Also in the studio that week were; Jaki Graham, Alison Moyet and George Benson. Janice Long & Steve Wright were the hosts.

18 December 1986. Also in the studio that week were; The Gap Band, Dexy’s Midnight Runners and A-Ha. Mike Smith was the host.

I’m intrigued by the uniquely eighties and curiously British phenomenom of groups who saw fit to merge soul influenced chart pop with leftist politics. I suppose Paul Weller set the ball rolling at the point where he switched from The Jam to The Style Council and Heaven 17 nudged it along to some degree and by 1986-87 it was a general approach epitomised by a lot of Red Wedge and certain other groups Fine Young Cannibals, The Christians, Hue and Cry. Simply Wet and Wet Red Wet tried it for awhile but then messrs Pellow and Hucknal realised they didn’t feel that guilty about making hard cash.
I mention it because I think of the Housemartins as being part of that as well albeit quirkier and hipper and sartorially adverse to the other groups I’ve mentioned (they dressed like Football Casuals rather than Junior Partners).

There is unsurprisingly a great happy hardcore version of this, which I have heard exactly once.

Re-15 Am I being ticked off?

Am I remembering correctly that the a capella version of the Housemartins originally had its own band name? Which was dumped when the potential of this song became clear?

But I suppose it’s how you define “from” ie born and bred or where you moved as an adult and formed your band. Having said that Mark Knopfler formed Dire Straits in London but it’s accepted he’s a Geordie.

Mark M at #18: the three words you’re looking for are “Fish City Five”. Rumour had it that this was a scam on the part of the ‘martins to increase their meagre touring income by being paid for headlining and supporting. I suspect this was a piece of self-mythologising, as it happens.

(For a group with such a meat-and-spuds image they were oddly adept at a bit of playful myth-making: I’m sure I read recently that none of the band was actually Christian…)

Sorry – I should probably drop references like that. The idea is that we don’t talk about upcoming number ones (to give us plenty to say on the relevant thread) – a fictional entity called the “Spoiler Bunny” supposedly enforces this. I am not sure exactly how this in-joke started to be honest. The guideline is a sound one though!

re reviews/ratings: I guess sometimes it’s more interesting to talk about what’s good in a record I don’t especially like, or what’s bad in a record I quite like (eg the True Blue write-up). I rate the track after writing the review but not really with the review in mind, if that makes sense.

It was Ernie and Marvin Isley and brother-in-law Chris Jasper that made up Isley, Jasper & Isley. The original version by them charted at #51 Pop and #3 R&B. This cover version never charted in the U.S., and I find it a noble, but ultimately bland rendition. The original wasn’t exactly one for the Isley canon, but it has a little more life than this, so I’ll give the Housemartins a 4 and the Isley’s a 6.

What’s your definition of “repeated failure to make the big time?” Each of the Smiths albums got to no. 1 or 2, most of their singles were top 20.

Re 29: Well, they weren’t on all those Shop Assistants/Bogshed/Hobgoblins etc bills, but they did do the indie circuit, albeit slightly in parallel. They did do the Peel sessions before they were famous, they did do the Roadmenders/Porterhouse/Pink Toothbrush circuit, finishing with a London gig at the Clarendon. They just got daytime R1 play very quickly, so they were able to leave the indie circuit behind almost before they’d registered on it.

The Housemartins and the Beautiful South largely passed me by, although one of my mates on the student mag at uni was a fan, so I was at least aware of them. This single didn’t do much in Oz, at Christmas or otherwise, and while its Happy Hoodies video seems harmless enough, I can’t get very excited about it. 4.

Whatever your take on the Housemartins’ previous records, this was as much of a curveball as “The Power of Love” was after FGTH’s earlier output, just as surprising and just as effective. Totally lovely record, with the catches in Heaton’s voice conveying emotion without ever sounding gimmicky. Beautiful harmony too, who’d have thought they had it in them? I’ve just YouTubed the Isley/Jasper/Isley original, which I’d never heard before – pleasant enough but doesn’t exactly stand out from the crowd, with a lazy-sounding drum track. This version does a whole lot more with the song.

Anto (#12) mentions football casuals – I know Paul Heaton is a massive football fan and collector, but can anyone confirm that he wrote a foreword to one of those tedious and odious “hoolie-lit” memoirs celebrating the good old days of football violence which are scandalously stocked in all good bookshops? If so I’ll have to revise my opinion of him…

The Spoiler Bunny thing started on this site around Easter (logically enough) in 2008, and yes it was Waldo and Lena who were responsible (see the “Stand By Your Man” and “Whispering Grass” threads for evidence). It took off from there as far as Popular is concerned, but if you google “Spoiler Bunny” you’ll find references all over the web on sites ranging from Harry Potter to Twilight and beyond. Don’t know what the true origin is, but he’s an essential part of the game and more power to his bobtail.

#34 he appeared on the cover of nme in the early nineties sporting bruises that he claimed came from football violence*. so yeah, he probably did.

*the nme line was, i think, that this was evidence of how endearingly unfashionable he was.

I quite liked Age Of Chance with their big brash beats and their choppy distorted synth/guitar tunes. I could even accept their lycra bicycle gear and their Designers Republic record sleeves.

Even now though, I still find it hard to equate these Leeds funsters as part of the same movement that gave us Bogshed, The June Brides and The Wedding Present. Similarly I tend to ally The Housemartins with The Christians and Fine Young Cannibals rather than lump them with the C86 crowd.

Re 34: Erithian I don’t know if he contributed to any of those books
but I recall an issue of Football weekly Shoot in the early nineties where Paul Heaton and the other members of The Beautiful South posed in Serie A shirts – Inter Milain, Lazio and others and talked about their passion for footy and the Italian game in particular.

Housemartins and the Wedding Present both had the football thing in common.

I can’t think of a single football-related reference in early 80s pop (bar “My Perfect Cousin”). Football and laddishness, trackies and casuals were probably anathema to the likes of Boy George, Frankie, George Michael, Human League etc

So, c86/the beginnings of the rise of indie pop = the beginnings of football becoming fashionable again, after the murk and violence of the 70-mid 80s?

Reaching a peak of course in 1990 and another indie/Popular moment.

It’s amazing in retrospect how unfashionable football was at that time – low crowds, horrible conditions, dreadful quality. There was even a year where there was no TV coverage of the league at all I think. Check out footage of anything before The Premiership (my personal favourite: the ridiculous Sheffield United v Leeds end-of-season game in 1992) and it’s like a foreign country.

I’ve no idea what brought the wheel back round again. I don’t think it was George Best appearing on a Wedding Present sleeve, but I don’t have any better explanation.

45, couldn’t agree more!

Bruisers like Boy George and Phil Oakey would stuff The Farm and Oasis at football anyway. Think I’d leave Marc Almond on the bench though

back on c86, there was also that oft-quoted half man half biscuit track ‘dukla prague away kit’.

So, thinking about it, maybe when Peel faves like wedding present and HMHB started all this football referencing (probably in part because it was relatively obscure/uncool at that point), that helped it on its way.

Peel seemed the epitome of indie cool in 86/87

Those NME football covers in full;

1979: Cyrille Regis
1983: Charlie Nicholas
1988: John Barnes & Craig Johnston
1989: “Football & Rock” (Liverpool-shirted arm playing an inflatable guitar. A really rubbish cover, that.)
1990: John Barnes again, + New Order and Keith Allen
1996: Teddy Sheringham (+ The Lightning Seeds and Baddiel & Skinner)

and there’s a 1990 Gazza Melody Maker cover.

The Andrew Collins article comes from the 1990 World Cup issue.

Wichita @ 49: My personal favourite being the St Mirren fanzine “Where The Beasties Meet”. I had quite a chuckle to myself when I saw that for the first time. (Hint: St Mirren’s ground is – or was, you never know these days – called Love Street)