When the Farm first appeared on the Liverpool scene, they were better known for the fanzine The End because Peter Hooton, the singer, was one of the editors.
The End was a zeitgeisty chronicle of scally culture, and back issues have since been collected into a book. (For a refresher on the meaning of “scally”, check out this previous post.)
The way the band comes over in the interview suggests that it was their culture too. Some of their comments here are hilarious. They were definitely not politically correct or, as we used to say in the 1980s, “right on”.
The Farm would evolve over the years and would eventually find pop stardom with a new lineup and new sound in the indie-dance/ “baggy” era of the late 80s/early 90s.
You’ll note another mention here of Joe Musker, who we met a few weeks ago in Dead Or Alive.
Down on the Farm
Melody Maker, April 7, 1984
Penny Kiley discusses life, lyrics and Liverpool with THE FARM.
YOU could walk past The Farm in the street without even noticing them. I did walk past The Farm in the street without noticing them, and I know them. But hear one of their songs and that will make itself noticed.
Days after the group's TV debut on "The Oxford Road Show", I find myself followed by the tune of "Memories", the song they showcased there. Almost as memorable, though, is the image of Peter Powell after a mouthful of broad Scouse from frontman Peter Hooton, enquiring straight-faced: "And where do the group come from?"
The Farm are inextricably part of their background (Peter worries about being too "regionalised", but his passionate identification with his home city is evident in everything he says and is), but they're nothing to do with any of the popular images of Liverpool pop.
Listen to The Farm on some of their fellow citizens, and learn about The Farm:
"There's too many gays in the charts."
"The melody's dead similar to 'Your Song' by Elton John - I could never write a tune that had been done before."
"Do you honestly think that's a good lyric: 'the flowers were screaming'?"
"I'd never argue with an audience."
"In a way they conned the public - I wouldn't be surprised if Mike Read was in on it."
"They still come up with good songs."
The last, it's perhaps safe to say, was guitarist Steve's comment on Echo And The Bunnymen.
As for the rest, it's probably as well not to take it too seriously. It's just the way The Farm show their impatience with anything that violates their own sense of priorities. The group have high ideals, if ill-defined - they're rightly wary of self-definition, so that their answers tend to be contradictory at times, but they're in no doubt about what's important. In The Farm's book, songs come first, with originality, the need to say something new, and image comes a very poor last.
I MEET The Farm on a day when another 1,100 job losses had just been announced on Merseyside, and when Liverpool had provided seven of the singles in the Top 20. With those kinds of facts to fall back on, images are so easy. Those two, contrasting, realities provided us with much to discuss, but these Liverpudlians have their own, down to earth, reality, and they're stubborn in sticking to it. The Farm don't believe in myths.
In particular, they don't believe in the rock 'n' roll myth. They play by their own rules, and their impact comes from their disbelief in tradition - their music still sounds fresh.
Not that they're novices musically. The group's been together for just over a year, starting life as a four-piece and gradually expanding. Last time I saw them on stage I counted eight, though on this occasion I was only to meet three of them. Basically, though, I learn there's a nucleus of five: Peter on vocals (a fledgling Pete Wylie, though he claims ignorance of the similarity), Steve Grimes on guitar, John Melvin on guitar and vocals, George Maher on trumpet, and Andy McVann on drums (the search for a permanent bass player continues).
To these are added an extra trumpet player, Tony Evans, for live work, and an extra drummer, Joey Musker, both in the studio and on the stage.
Overall, it's an intriguing mixture, and the sound that they've developed on stage - which will, they feel, transfer effectively onto record as soon as it has the chance - is, despite the size of the cast, surprisingly direct and always interesting. While individual songs vary from beat to ballads, rock to reggae, the whole thing is not something that's easy to pin down.
Peter, according to John, is "obsessed by politics", but his songs aren't exactly protest songs. "It's social awareness," says Steve. "You've got to be politically aware," says Peter, but admits: "I don't honestly think people listen to lyrics, unless they're written down. All the same I could never sing something I didn't feel."
It's an interesting point, raised by John Peel while being quizzed on Radio Merseyside about the current boom of Mersey bands in the charts, that out of the numerous hard hit areas in the country, there's very little in the way of political music.
"Maybe they want to get away from it," suggests John reasonably. Escapism can go a bit far though, and when it's a short cut to stardom it can be hard to stand and watch.
Steve: "It's frustrating seeing all these bands getting singles in the charts and we know we've got the songs but there's no way we'd get our songs there straight away."
THEY have to do it the hard way, but gradually the word's being spread, through radio sessions for John Peel and Peter Powell, TV with "The Oxford Road Show", and plenty of live experience to back it up, including gigs with The Style Council, at their ill-fated debut at Liverpool Empire, and supporting JoBoxers at the University ("the best reaction we've ever had at a gig, and no-one had even come to see us").
Anyway, Steve reassures himself: "I think things are going to change. I think our image has gone as far as it can go now." Image? It's a wonder they know what the word means." This lot make Mark E Smith look like Adam Ant.
"We all look as though we were unemployed," says Steve. In fact, only two out of the five have jobs - "about average" observes Peter drily.
"What we're concentrating on," defines Peter, "is aiming at the sort of person who doesn't usually go to concerts, just ordinary lads.
"And girls," he adds carefully. "That's the real Liverpool - not the Frankie Goes To Hollywood Liverpool".
Well, there's room in Liverpool for any number of realities, and that's what makes it the city it is. But if The Farm do represent the masses, it can't be a bad thing to have a potential mass audience. They're convinced they've got the goods for that kind of appeal, and some of their songs are certainly crying out to be preserved for posterity.
"We're not after instant success," says Peter. "We don't want to be this week's thing. Our songs will stand up by themselves."
With that kind of confidence, who cares about your trousers?
Watch the Farm
This is the Oxford Road Show programme mentioned in the article.
Thanks guy but I'll take the Frankie version of Liverpool.