Factory-related funk, punk and pre-rave crunk assembled for second volume of rarities and gems
8/10
After Strut's first successful attempt at rounding up the relatively obvious club nuggets from Factory's dim and distant archives, volume two seeks to scratch beneath the surface for less obvious floor-fillers. Whilst the remit remains the same, the results are rather more varied and consequently a bit more rewarding for those with the patience and the imagination to not scoff at the 'Dance' part of its title. Mention half of these bands in the same breath as other dance luminaries such as Derrick May, New Order, Chic, Orbital etc and you'd be rightly run out of town. However, the proof is in the grooves and there is much to shake your overcoat lapels to across these two discs, neither of which are more danceable than the other and both of which have been curated by James Nice of LTM and now Factory Records Limited.
Disc one starts with A Certain Ratio's frenetic The Fox, taken from their debut studio-album To Each. It's always mildly funny to recount ACR's response to Martin Hannett's production, but perhaps they're right when you learn of his insistence at having drummer Donald Johnson play each part of the rhythm separately. Did he take all the funk out of one of Manchester's finest exports? On the strength of this breezy opener, nope (he must have driven them mad though). And Hannett's deft touch is present throughout Fac Dance 02 - on ESG's superlative hip-wiggler Moody and its less shuffly partner, You're No Good, throughout Royal Family and the Poor's gritty Vaneigem and with those unlikely disco-dancers, The Durutti Column's exemplary Self Portrait, all of which have some element of wiggle to behold.
Not surprisingly, Factory's other reluctant in-house producers, New Order, are also represented on a few tracks such as 52nd Street's edgy heavily-sequenced dub-thumper Can't Afford, Nyam Nyam's Donna Summer-esque Fate, Shark Vegas (alias Mark Reeder) with their chugging synth dramatics on You Hurt Me and the ultra-rare Italian electro-funk of Surprize's In Movimento. The latter remains a tricky beast to find on vinyl these days so its inclusion is a welcome and, ahem, surprise one - it reminds me of Bill Nelson's Chimera period with its fretless bass and oddly itchy rhythm.
Aside from high quality cuts from Section 25 - the chatterfunk of Sakura and the snarling PiL-like proto-disco of Knew Noise with its visceral opening prose, "this one's for your face/you won't make the human race" - plus the irresistible Lucinda by A Certain Ratio, another rarity from Factory's only dalliance with roots-reggae courtesy of X-O-DUS (who offer up Society), Anna Domino's under-rated metro-poppy Take That and the mysterious Ad Infinitum with their more than capable electro-disco cover of Joe Meek's beautiful Telstar (originally performed by The Tornadoes) - Ad Infinitum turns out to be Tony Wilson's first wife Lindsay Reade with Peter Hook on knobs, various Ratios and Eric Random. It remains a lovely record.
What doesn't work are the jazzier noodlings of Kalima and Swamp Children, the depressive but dubby Host by The Wake (fine track, it just seems out of place here) and Thick Pigeon's clunky bubblegum punk, full-stop. Three out of twenty-four curiosities ain't bad, but I've left the most bizarre 12" ever released on Factory, 'til last. Ravers the world over will recognize the opening acapella to Fadela's synthesized Rai offering N'sel Fik - at a time when any tenuous reference to caning enough marching powder, disco disprins and Ecstasy was de rigeur on dance records, what sounded like "we are E" appeared most famously on Lenny D Ice's killer choon of the same name. The original source of said dialogue is far superior - N'sel Fik appeared on Factory after Quando Quango's Hacienda DJ figurehead Mike Pickering heard it at a New York club owned by Mark Kamins and steered it towards a FAC number (197). If you fail to warm to the gorgeous rhythms and vocals contained on this hypnotic dervish of a track, you need medicine. I prescribe this impressive double CD (and vinyl) - it's Fac-ing good.
For further information about Factory artists head to Cerysmatic here and to buy related recordings go to LTM here (or Amazon here)
8/10
Disc one starts with A Certain Ratio's frenetic The Fox, taken from their debut studio-album To Each. It's always mildly funny to recount ACR's response to Martin Hannett's production, but perhaps they're right when you learn of his insistence at having drummer Donald Johnson play each part of the rhythm separately. Did he take all the funk out of one of Manchester's finest exports? On the strength of this breezy opener, nope (he must have driven them mad though). And Hannett's deft touch is present throughout Fac Dance 02 - on ESG's superlative hip-wiggler Moody and its less shuffly partner, You're No Good, throughout Royal Family and the Poor's gritty Vaneigem and with those unlikely disco-dancers, The Durutti Column's exemplary Self Portrait, all of which have some element of wiggle to behold.
Not surprisingly, Factory's other reluctant in-house producers, New Order, are also represented on a few tracks such as 52nd Street's edgy heavily-sequenced dub-thumper Can't Afford, Nyam Nyam's Donna Summer-esque Fate, Shark Vegas (alias Mark Reeder) with their chugging synth dramatics on You Hurt Me and the ultra-rare Italian electro-funk of Surprize's In Movimento. The latter remains a tricky beast to find on vinyl these days so its inclusion is a welcome and, ahem, surprise one - it reminds me of Bill Nelson's Chimera period with its fretless bass and oddly itchy rhythm.
Aside from high quality cuts from Section 25 - the chatterfunk of Sakura and the snarling PiL-like proto-disco of Knew Noise with its visceral opening prose, "this one's for your face/you won't make the human race" - plus the irresistible Lucinda by A Certain Ratio, another rarity from Factory's only dalliance with roots-reggae courtesy of X-O-DUS (who offer up Society), Anna Domino's under-rated metro-poppy Take That and the mysterious Ad Infinitum with their more than capable electro-disco cover of Joe Meek's beautiful Telstar (originally performed by The Tornadoes) - Ad Infinitum turns out to be Tony Wilson's first wife Lindsay Reade with Peter Hook on knobs, various Ratios and Eric Random. It remains a lovely record.
What doesn't work are the jazzier noodlings of Kalima and Swamp Children, the depressive but dubby Host by The Wake (fine track, it just seems out of place here) and Thick Pigeon's clunky bubblegum punk, full-stop. Three out of twenty-four curiosities ain't bad, but I've left the most bizarre 12" ever released on Factory, 'til last. Ravers the world over will recognize the opening acapella to Fadela's synthesized Rai offering N'sel Fik - at a time when any tenuous reference to caning enough marching powder, disco disprins and Ecstasy was de rigeur on dance records, what sounded like "we are E" appeared most famously on Lenny D Ice's killer choon of the same name. The original source of said dialogue is far superior - N'sel Fik appeared on Factory after Quando Quango's Hacienda DJ figurehead Mike Pickering heard it at a New York club owned by Mark Kamins and steered it towards a FAC number (197). If you fail to warm to the gorgeous rhythms and vocals contained on this hypnotic dervish of a track, you need medicine. I prescribe this impressive double CD (and vinyl) - it's Fac-ing good.
For further information about Factory artists head to Cerysmatic here and to buy related recordings go to LTM here (or Amazon here)