From Heavenly, With Hate

Heavenly Records have probably delivered more personal favourites than any other label. In the early days it was St Etienne and Flowered Up, later they gave us Fabulous, the Rockingbirds, Doves, Ed Harcourt, Beth Orton, the Magic Numbers and Fionn Regan. Their old Soho office was an inspiring joint while their club, The Heavenly Social was a launchpad for the Chemical Brothers and a spiritual home for Paul Weller, Tricky, Noel Gallagher, Bobby Gillespie and a generation of errant ravers.

More than anything, I'm fond of their 1990 single release 'Motown Junk' by the Manic Street Preachers. You are probably familiar with this belter composition. Everything surging at once, with James Dean Bradfield singing with the spasmodic alarm of a guy being injured with a cattle prod. I was reviewing the singles for the NME that week and I put this righteous mess at the top of the pile.

You didn't need to be a scholar of Guy Debord and situationist texts to know that this was a shout for individuality and human dignity. It sounded a bit like The Clash and 'Complete Control', which I also appreciated. And after hearing lines like "communal tyranny a jail that bleeds our wrists" you weren't surprised to learn that Richey and Nicky wanted to combine the savagery of Sun headlines with the acute value of a William Burroughs cut-up.

My NME colleagues were mostly appalled at the choice for Single Of The Week. They thought the band was retro and perhaps not even for real. Then Richey produced a razor blade, carved up his forearm, and the debate changed immediately.

Oddly, 'Motown Junk' was only ever available on 12 inch vinyl and CD. Now you can purchase the legendary stuff on 7 inch vinyl. My collection needs it. Yours too, I'd say.