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It seems like a lifetime ago since The Undertones' 'Teenage Kicks' blasted into 1978's living rooms along Damian and John O'Neill's spunky guitars, Michael Bradley's bass and Billy Doherty's drums, while Feargal Sharkey warbled the purest sentiments: 'I wanna hold you tight, get teenage kicks right through the night!' But for their drummer's ears, nobody would have gotten any kicks, teenaged or not, Damian remembers: 'We thought it was a bit too poppy; Billy had to persuade us to do it. Of course, [BBC DJ] John Peel got to hear it, and it just went ballistic after that!' Suitably goosed, the Undertones established themselves as celebrators of the ordinary in waggish tracks like 'Mars Bars' ('There's glucose for energy, caramel for strength, the chocolate's only there to give it the right length!'), or 'More Songs About Chocolate And Girls' ('Sit down, relax, and cancel all the other engagements/It's never too late to enjoy dumb entertainment!'). Yet their brand of entertainment was anything but dumb; you didn't need a secret handshake to enjoy it. As Bradley noted: 'We didn't have any notions about ourselves. We knew that we were goin' back to where we came from.' Long known for turning left, when their peers turned right, the ever-unpredictable Undertones have just pulled off what had always seemed like a pipe dream, especially to themselves: re-forming the band. Thousands of sun -- scarred Londoners witnessed the impossible for themselves on June 10, at the Irish-themed Fleadh Festival -- where Bradley, Doherty, the O'Neill brothers, and stand-in vocalist Paul McCloone hailed an appreciative throng with 'Here Comes The Summer, ' from their classic self-titled debut, The Undertones (1979), as well as faithful old standbys like 'Family Entertainment, ' 'Jimmy Jimmy, ' and 'Teenage Kicks.' (According to the official Undertones website, the gig was filmed, and recorded, with select portions to be aired on VH1, with rights possibly going back to the band, at some point.) The Sharkey -- less band had captivated an equally swooning crowd on June 9, at London's Mean Fiddler, capping a private rebirth that -- in purest Undertones tradition -- had seemingly occurred from out of the blue. In June 1999, Bradley and Doherty -- who'd periodically appeared as a guest rhythm section for fellow countrymen, the Saw Doctors -- brought the O'Neills to a gig in Galway, Ireland. The audience waxed suitably ecstatic, leading to a pair of reunion gigs on November 19-20, 1999, at The Nerve Centre, an alternative multi -- media complex in Derry, where John O'Neill had been working since the splitup of his second band, That Petrol Emotion. Again, Sharkey declined, leading to McCloone's recruitment from his own local band, The Carolines. The switch mattered not a whit, as the Irish Times noted; 'Derry rock fans witnessed the return of the prodigal punks, and went appropriately bonkers, christening the new venue with sweat, spilt beer and an outpouring of sheer rock'n'roll fervour.' Only one additional gig has been scheduled since the band's London triumphs -- at Ireland's Witness Festival, August 5, at an open-air race track located just north of the republic's capital, Dublin. There, the band will share a bill with the likes of Beck, a reunited Happy Mondays, and Paul Weller, in what surely represents one of pop's most unlikely turnabouts. Whether this burst of one-off activity marks the band as a continuing proposition remains to be seen. Quizzed by New Musical Express about the chances of longer tours, let alone new material, Bradley responded: 'I think I'm still weighing it up and I think John is still weighing it up as well. That's why we're not saying -- 'Well -- next year we're doing a 30-date tour.' 'We're still playing it by ear and seeing what kind of reaction we get at each show. I don't want to be too precious about it as well -- because after all - it was only a band. It's not as if we were pioneering heart surgeons.' Another one-off gig was scheduled for Sept. 29, in Derry, with Bam Bam, The Calling, and The Moondogs -- who, like the Undertones, got their first break 20 years ago, on the Good Vibrations label. According to the band's official website (TheUndertones.net), there are rumors of further gigs at Christmas, but nothing confirmed yet. The band have also recorded together for the first time since 1982; the track is an acoustic remake of 'My Perfect Cousin, ' which has already been aired on Irish radio And, finally, to top off all the recent activity, a documentary -- slated to include a host of rare clips, as well as the latest gig footage -- is being readied for an April 2001 showing on Irish TV. BBC One DJ John Peel has been short-listed as a presenter for the program. Whatever happens, there is no doubt about the ongoing appeal of this most brash, boyish, and exuberant of bands, and their legacy -- which began as awkward teenagers struggling to make a mark beyond their hometown stomping grounds. Proto-Punk Kicks For the Undertones, their home city of Derry, Northern Ireland, provided ample motivation to try music. There was little else happening in an economy blighted by 'The Troubles' -- as locals call the ongoing Catholic-Protestant conflicts -- unless you played professional soccer. Derry's entertainment culture cleaved to the show band circuit, whose musicians dressed in suits to play country, or grew their hair to redo Led Zeppelin and Thin Lizzy. Either way, it meant churning out sets of other people's music -- which didn't appeal to John O'Neill, who longed to generate his own unique energy. Not having missed an NME (New Musical Express) since 1974, he'd discovered many of the bands who'd influence the early Undertones: Iggy Stooges, the MC5, the New York Dolls, and that immortal Sixties garage band showcase, Nuggets. 'We formed in '75, ' says John, 'doing mostly three-chord, early Rolling Stones, blues cover versions, because that was as far as our musical ability could take us. When punk came, we thought, 'This is the secret -- play the same chords, but twice as fast!'' Covers spanned 'whatever was on the turntable that we could play, ' according to Bradley, including 'Badge' (Cream), 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue' (Bob Dylan), and 'Sympathy For The Devil' (Rolling Stones). Damian remembers starting acoustically, which stopped when he got an electric guitar -- so out went the third O'Neill, Vince, 'the excuse being, he had to study for his exams, much to the annoyance of Mickey Bradley! He looked down on me, but I was in.' Though he joined last, singer Feargal Sharkey already knew how to project, says fellow classmate Doherty: 'Feargal entered a load of talent competitions, and was always winning. He did it for the sheer hell of it, basically. I was gonna play guitar, but ended up playing drums.' The boys began practicing three or four nights per week, working more or less in isolation, until punk exploded in summer 1976, as personified by the speedy, sullen and spiky-haired Clash, Damned and Sex Pistols. The Ramones' self-titled first LP, released that summer, also made an enormous impression on the boys (who'd spend much of their career playing down those comparisons). 'You had to be intuitive, ' says Doherty. 'We weren't exposed to anybody we could look to as an influence. When someone was on TV, you had to see what you could pick up, because in Derry, there were mainly show bands.' With no real venues, only the Casbah Rock -- which booked the heavier-rocking show bands -- gave the Undertones a chance, an open-mindedness they salute today, even if the first album's final track said otherwise ('You never get pop at the Casbah Rock!'). At first, the Undertones only drew 20-30 people ('made the place look packed, ' cracks John), but eventually graduated to a weekly slot. Throughout their two-year tenure at the Casbah, the band added a new song each week; if none were forthcoming, they'd try out new covers, like T. Rex's '20th Century Boy.' Back then, any attention they got in Derry's 'parochial, conservative' atmosphere seemed amazing, recalls Damian, especially when the slightest punking up invited abuse: 'We were being a bit paranoid, but I remember Feargal being beat up on the street, and we'd constantly get slagged: 'Undertones [are] shite!' It's funny -- people in Derry talk about the Undertones with nostalgia, but they forget the hatred!' Teenage Kicks Having acquired a following, the Undertones set about documenting themselves in early 1978. Bradley remembers their first attempt, at a local university, as a disaster: 'They had recording equipment, but certainly didn't use it for music! We got to talkin' to this fellow, and he recorded some demo tapes, but they weren't very good, to be honest.' When the band entered Belfast's Wizard Studios in June 1978 -- recording 'True Confessions, ' 'Teenage Kicks, ' 'Emergency Cases' and 'Smarter Than U' for just £180 ($270 US), for Belfast record shop owner Terry Hooley -- they were ready to quit, with Sharkey the most vocal about their lack of progress. Wizard Studios was 'at the back of the Duke of York pub, in a clothing warehouse; [Sinn Fein spokesman] Gerry Adams used to be a barman in the Duke of York pub, way back in the late sixties, early seventies, ' Hooley laughs. 'We even played Dublin a couple times, [also] Belfast, but gigs were few and far between, ' says Damian. 'Feargal had a job, John had a job, the rest of us were in school -- our ambition was to make a record, we didn't really think there'd be a career out of it. 'We still didn't think we were that good, anyway, ' shrugs John. 'You'd hear the latest Bhomcocks record: 'We'll never be as good as that.' You had to be as good as your contemporaries.' Hooley was well-acquainted with the band's roughshod charm, after a friend had given him a tape; 'I listened to it for about a week, played it, and nobody liked it, ' he recalls. 'And then, one night, a friend who was around mixed moonshine -- and we both got drunk, and about three o'clock in the morning, he says, 'I can see what you're talkin' about now!'' As fate would have it, Hooley was on his way to meet another band he'd been thinking of signing to his label, which had already issued records from Rudi ('the band everybody thinks should have made it from here'), Victim, and the Outcasts ('They'd already been on another label, and they were well-known; they were the biggest punk band over here'). A friend informed Hooley that the Undertones were close to breaking up, 'and they needed to know whether I was gonna sign them up, or not, ' he said. 'I told him, I'd tell 'em when I get across the road, ' and then I got across the road, I said, 'OK, tell 'em they're on the label.'' What happened on September 12 defied gravity, and logic. The Teenage Kicks EP (GOT 4) had just been issued on Hooley's Good Vibrations label when Britain's leading DJ, John Peel, singled out the title track on his show -- the only outlet for left-field music -- and played it. The next day, Hooley met with Paul McNally, who ran Sire's London offices, who wanted to license the EP for an American release: 'I told him to get his ass over here, I didn't have a contract with the band, and he signed the band up.' 'CBS told me, a week later, 'We quite like that band' -- this is after it [the EP] got a lot of radio airplay, and I said, 'Tough, they're already signed to Sire.' And he [the CBS minion] said, 'Have you any other bands on your label?' I says, 'Yeah, but I wouldn't give you them, because you're bastards. I never wanna speak to you ever again in my life. Don't ever let CBS phone me, under any circumstances!'' What, then, made 'Teenage Kicks' so undeinably appealing? 'It was just a classic song, ' said Hooley. 'I really loved bands like the Seeds, Standells, Question Mark Mysterians -- the stuff that you'd find on the Nuggets albums -- and, to me, it [the song] was just classic pop stuff.' While nobody in the band imagined themselves gracing 'Top Of The Pops, ' Hooley thought quite differently, especially after hearing 'Teenage Kicks': 'I thought it was gonna be phenomenal. I went to London with it - -- the last meeting I had was with CBS, and they were puttin' out 52 singles that week, and the guy didn't like it at all. "Rough Trade -- who'd put out Stiff Little Fingers' album, and had a success in the charts -- told me it was the biggest load of rubbish they'd ever heard in their life." Undeterred, Hooley 'threw two copies [of the EP] in to John Peel, at Radio One, ' he continues. 'That was a Fri. I arrived back in Belfast on a Monday -- and I was so disappointed. 'That night, Hooley's wife said, 'Stick John Peel on, he might play the record.' John Peel played the record: 'That was the most wonderful record I've ever heard in my life, I wanna play it again' -- and that was the first time in the history of Radio One that a record had been played twice. I was over the moon.' When he could get away with it, Peel even played 'Teenage Kicks' twice in one slot, a curiosity factor that certainly aided its #31 UK chart placing, and boosting sales outside the Undertones' Irish stronghold. (Peel has cited 'Teenage Kicks' as his all-time favorite track, by anybody, in countless interviews.) Enter Sire Records president Seymour Stein, who'd signed two bands the boys admired: The Ramones, and Talking Heads. However, when a local lawyer offered bix advice about the deal ('He just said, 'Seems all right, ' recalls Bradley), something had to give. Bradley and Sharkey determined that wouldn't be themselves, after a four-hour summit in Stein's flat. When asked about a £50-60, 000 deal, the pair called home for a quick consultation. 'They [John, Damian, Doherty] started going, 'No -- the Rich Kids [bassist Glen Matlock's post-Pistols project] got £100, 000, '' laughs Bradley. 'He [Stein] went, 'You wanna be like the Rich Kids? Go ahead and be the Rich Kids.' We didn't get £100, 000 - but we signed anyway!' (They did meet the Ramones in London, and get free copies of their albums, too.) Barely a month after Peel's blessing, the Undertones signed to Sire (October 10), saw the single reissued (October 16), and mimed 'Teenage Kicks' for Britain's 'Top Of The Pops', just as they were opening The Rezillos' UK tour (October 22). They had also acquired a shrewd manager in 'the sixth Undertone': Andy Ferguson, then working for Sire's parent label, WEA (Warner Elektra Atlantic) London. As the elder statesman, John had achieved his dream at 20, with everyone else not far behind at ages 19 (Doherty, Sharkey), 18 (Bradley) and 17 (Damian). Without having to ask, and virtually overnight, the Undertones had become pop's hottest ticket. 'We were getting played on daytime radio, ' says Damian, 'and these women at my workplace were asking for my autograph! It was completely surreal -- after all, somebody [once] called us 'the ugliest band in Ireland.'' If so, the relative failure of 'Get Over You'/'Really Really'/'She Can Only Say No' (SIR 4007) should have calmed whatever butterflies he felt, stalling at #57 UK in January 1979. May's self-titled debut album (Sire SRK 607l) did far better (#13 UK), thanks to its presentation of wide-eyed, gadabouts offering mile -- a -- minute snapshots of their fans' dreams and conceits. Whether it was Sharkey cockily wanting to be a 'Male Model, ' slamming lying lovers in '(She's A) Runaround, ' or poking fun at hometown notions of 'Family Entertainment, ' The Undertones had caught their essence, seemingly without sweating a drop. 'You gotta imagine -- none of us had ever been in a proper studio before, none of the engineers might have heard about the music we liked, ' says Doherty. 'I didn't even know how to tune my drums!' Further evidence of the band's appeal came with the May 1979 successes of 'Jimmy Jimmy'/'Mars Bars', at #16 UK, and 'Here Comes The Summer'/'One Way Love'/'Top Twenty', which got to #34 UK that August. The Undertones easily holds its own among other dynamic class of '77 debuts as The Scream (Siouxsie Banshees), The Clash, or Never Mind The Bollocks Here's The Sex Pistols. As expected, John was the primary writer, but the inspired tomfoolery of 'Mars Bars' (one of seven CD bonus track) proved that Damian's punchy guitar hooks meshed well with Bradley's lyrical gab, and Doherty turned in three snappy songs. Make no mistake; this was a group democracy. Such naivete fell miles from the turf mined by Belfast's Stiff Little Fingers (slf), whose first singles ('Alternative Ulster, ' 'Suspect Device') voiced demands for an end to British rule in Northern Ireland's six counties. The Catholic-manned Irish Republican Army (ira) has been trying to do that -- with bombs and bullets, among other weapons -- since the 1960s, opposed by Protestant paramilitary groups like the Ulster Volunteer Force (uvf). (Both sides are now trying to work out a peace agreement with the British government.) 'I think we did reflect that, ' argues Doherty, 'but we weren't as contrived as Stiff Little Fingers. They used 'the troubles' to promote the band, whereas we just promoted the music.' Damian agrees, since three Undertones were Protestant; so were fans who 'had to come from the water side of Derry [to see them], which was very dangerous, because a lot of fights broke out, ' he says. Sophomore Kicks Security concerns also derailed a one -- off gig for Derry youth in early 1979, at which The Clash had committed to appear beside The Boys, The Damned, The Rezillos, and The Undertones. Anticipation was running high until a motorcycle courier handed Clash singer Joe Strummer an envelope at London's Wessex Studios, where they were crafting the London Calling album. The NME had passed it along, for reasons that became strikingly apparent. Road manager Johnny Green had good reason to appreciate the threat; he'd signed up with the Clash in fall 1977, after a Belfast University gig had fallen through due to the promoters' lack of insurance, and jittery authorities. When Strummer got the message, 'I watched his face turn white, ' says Green. 'A little later, he took it out: 'Johnny, what'd you make of this?' There's a handwritten letter: 'If this scum Strummer sets foot on Her Majesty's free soil of Ulster, he will be shot like the Republican rat that he is, and left to bleed to death in the gutter. Signed, The Red Hand Commando.'' Suitably spooked, the band gave its lawyers the note, after which 'a soft-spoken man with no name' from the Special Forces anti-terrorist unit, recalls Green, said: 'This is the hit squad of the Ulster Volunteer Force.' He advised the Clash to cancel. Despite everyone's misgivings, Strummer pushed to play, somehow. 'We got the [stadium] plans, ' says Green, 'and I do logistics where the high-rise buildings are, over the stage, where a sniper could shoot -- and it's possible. 'So Strummer says, 'Well, we'll hire a car, and Johnny will drive me [south] from Dublin, through the Republic [of Ireland] -- we've already looked at landing a helicopter backstage.' The hassles finally forced a cancellation 'due to recording commitments with the Clash, ' he adds; nobody ever heard about the Red Hand Commando. In what smelled like a consolation prize, the Undertones did support the Clash's fall 1979 US tour along the East Coast, and Midwestern cities like Chicago, Cleveland, Minneapolis, and St. Paul. Green recalls a hard-working, painfully shy outfit, 'almost in awe of what they perceived as higher-league rock'n'roll acts, ' he says. 'They would need encouraging to socialize -- they would be tucked away. If you came across them, they'd keep to themselves.' 'We couldn't believe they played the same set every night!' laughs John. 'Punk bands aren't supposed to do that! We didn't realize that you had to play the same set, so it got really tight.' Doherty remembers the Clash as encouraging ('Joe Strummer was like a god'), even if their lifestyles diverged drastically: 'They would have a refrigerator full of drugs, and we'd have a refrigerator full of Coke. Regular Coke.' The inner sleeve photos of Hypnotised (Sire SRK 6088), including one of Damian thrashing happily onstage beside Strummer, attest to the camaraderie. It's release in April 1980 had been preceded by the band's only Top Ten UK hit, 'My Perfect Cousin'/'I Don't Want To See You Again'/'Hard Luck (Again)' (SIR 4024); it reached #9 UK, but not without causing Damian -- who'd cowritten 'My Perfect Cousin' with Bradley -- considerable embarrassment. Now a successful lawyer, cousin Kevin didn't relish being the butt of their smart-aleck lyrics ('He thinks that I'm a cabbage, 'cause I hate university challenge'), Damian says: 'Feargal blurted it [the man's name] to a local journalist. I had to apologize to this real Kevin -- he still talks to me. We never broach the subject, obviously!' Originally titled 15 Rockin' Humdingers, Hypnotised saw the boys retain the first album's producer, Elvis Costello/Nick Lowe associate Roger Bechirian. Amazingly, as recording began in Holland, someone realized they only had six songs, forcing some last minute trips back home to bang out the rest. It worked wonders on the opening 'More Songs About Chocolate ' which Damian now admits stemmed from a backlash that had yet to blossom: 'A lot of bands in raincoats came along, and we were in a 'fuck art, let's dance' sort of mood.' So were the public, it seemed, who rocketed Hypnotised into a #13 UK position. While Damian held up the three-chord thunder on the title track, 'Whizz Kids' or 'What's With Terry?', John's introspective entries signaled the future direction, such as 'Tearproof, ' cowritten with Bradley ('I played a middle bit, and got a co-credit!'), and the acoustic 'Wed Week, ' whose Kink-ish melody provided the ultimate vehicle for Sharkey's tremulous tonsils. It reached #11 UK in June, just before another month-long American tour. 'There were criticisms of the first LP, about how we sounded too much like The Ramones, ' says John. 'You could hear the sixties influences in their songs, and that was what we had, also -- but we had to do it our way.' They did on Hypnotised's lone cover, The Drifters' 'Under The Boardwalk'; with Sharkey wailing for his life, Damian manages to slip in one of his most reckless, inspired guitar solos. 'The only version we'd heard was on a school compilation, where the songs had been re-recorded, ' says Bradley. 'Years later, when I heard the Drifters' proper Atlantic version, I realized we were listening to the wrong record!' By December 1980, tired of not seeing their albums distributed properly, the boys bolted to EMI for a hefty advance, which helped set up their own Ardeck label (on which all subsequent product would appear). They also kept their catalogue rights, something few bands consider, then or now, John points out: 'Andy was a shrewd businessman -- he knew the best way would be to hold on to our songs.' Thanks to Ferguson's stewardship, the licensing deals have given the ex-Undertones steady income (having reverted, after five years, from Rykodisc to the UK's Castle Communications). Positive Kicks May 1981's #18 UK single, 'It's Going To Happen'/'Fairly In The Money Now' (ARDS 8), showed how far the Undertones had come from 'Jimmy Jimmy, ' with guitars delegated behind the A-side's horns and keyboards while the flip outlined Tommy Tate Torpedoes' fanciful story. Positive Touch's (Ardeck ARDS 103) exotic instrumental flourishes -- horns, slide guitars, tack piano, and xylophone -- left little doubt the Undertones had outgrown the big bang of old, which flashed itself on 'Boy Wonder, ' or 'His Good-Looking Girlfriend.' Many tracks boasted a Sixties psychedelic feel; 'When Sat Comes'' brooding riff nodded to the Rolling Stones's 'Paint It Black, ' while 'Forever Paradise' used trick fadeouts to drive home its haunted mood ('Seventh heaven with a different face/Another time in a difficult place'). While John admits not putting much thought into his earliest lyrics, the title track ('It takes the positive touch') -- inspired by a film about a manic depressive -- showed how he'd grown as a songwriter. So did 'You're Welcome, ' about a friend released from prison on political charges, he notes: 'We had played in Derry, and someone said, 'It's time you started commentin' on the [Irish] situation.'' For Damian, 'It's Going To Happen' began as his comment on hunger strikes, which IRA prisoners like the late Bobby Sands -- who died in spring 1981, shortly after winning election to the UK Parliament -- were now employing to protest British rule. (Hence, the chorus: 'It's gonna happen, happens all the time/It's gonna happen, till you change your mind!') In an eerie coincidence, the Undertones mimed it on 'Top Of The Pops' on the night before Sands' starvation killed him. 'Being Catholic, ' says Damian, 'you couldn't help being affected, but -- it was very crass, so I gave it to Mickey, and he changed the lyrics. You don't wanna see the original, it's very bad!' The Undertones felt rightly proud of Positive Touch, whether you ask John ('our best at the time'), Damian ('We'd gotten tired of Ramones-y thrash'), or Doherty ('we realized there's a lot you can do in the studio'), with Bradley dissenting ('we should have had someone say, 'why don't you keep the same songs, but rewrite them a bit?''). Positive Touch peaked at #17 UK, and soon exited the Top 50, which canceled the first Japanese and Australian gigs, Damian recalls. Its failure crushed morale, as newly-minted electro-poppers like Culture Club, Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet crash-landed the charts, aided by canny exploitations of image, and the fast-rising importance of videos as a promotional tool on the new MTV network. The Undertones, who'd resolutely avoided the politics of image, had entered their twilight period; although critics still praised them, they knew painfully well that good press hardly meant galloping sales. Doherty learned as much in July 1981, when John's swooning, slow-burning 'Julie Ocean' (Ardeck ARDS 9) peaked at #41 UK as a single, and marked the Undertones' final 'Top Of The Pops' appearance. They shared air time with Depeche Mode, and new EMI labelmates Duran Duran, whose drummer, Roger Taylor, obligingly lent Doherty a piece of his kit when their turn came. ('Top Of The Pops' is famous for not allowing its featured bands to play live; instead, they mime over a backing track, a rule only broken by notables like New Order.) 'We were the darlings of EMI, because we'd already had some chart success, but the following week, Duran Duran went to number five, or six, and we went to #40, ' says Doherty. 'For the first time, we realized it was a very cold business.' In hindsight, Bradley ruefully admits the Undertones didn't regard their craft as a job, until it was too late: 'When 'Julie Ocean' was in the charts, we were in Derry, doin' nothin', and I remember seein' John [in the pub]: 'The record's not doin' well.'' 'You start to realize that you have go on tour, you have deadlines to meet, ' muses Doherty, 'and EMI wanted more control over what we had been doing.' But even Hugh Jones's remix failed to rescue 'Julie Ocean''s prospects; upset with Bechirian's mix on Positive Touch, the band cashiered him, too. Although summer saw a major European tour, such outings took less priority over time, 'because certain members never wanted to be away from home. This caused a bit of conflict, ' says Damian, who'd himself moved to London, while everyone else stayed in Derry. Further brushfires flared after Sharkey realized 'we were a millstone around his neck, ' says John. 'Feargal was always different from the rest of us, anyway -- the gap got larger as the lack of commercial success got worse.' The boys dribbled away more momentum on building a studio back home ('God, what a nightmare!' sighs Damian) in 1981-82, which limited their activity to one single, 'Beautiful Friend' (ARDS 10), while Positive Touch's elaborate hieroglyphic cover lost a Grammy award nomination for Best Cover Art. Twilight Kicks Fans wondering whether the band would return from its lengthy layoff got their answer in January 1983, when 'The Love Parade' (ARDS 11) emerged, and reaffirmed the Undertones' long-standing psychedelic penchant. (The 12-inch version boasted live versions of 'Crisis Of Mine, ' 'Family Entertainment, ' and 'You're Welcome, ' linked together by in-studio banter.). 'Again, very Sixties, ' says Damian of his song, its title hailing from a 1920s George Gershwin standard. 'I was playing a lot of organ. I actually had an American girlfriend who was very into Sixties bands.' But when 'The Love Parade' bombed, EMI felt far less inclined to allow the old autonomy; it wouldn't give the final album, The Sin Of Pride (Ardeck ARDS 104), a US release without major revisions -- dragging out the recording time, and inflaming intra-band tensions. It peaked at #46 UK on its March 1983 release, and died without a fuss. The material wasn't necessarily the problem, even if some tracks seemed pasted together ('Valentine's Treatment'), or overly-mannered ('Conscious, ' 'Luxury'); the band's attempt to self-produce with Mike Hedges (Squeeze) had resulted in a slick and cluttered production. The brightest ones -- 'Bye Bye Baby Blue's' soaring doowop, the haunting ballad 'Love Before Romance, ' 'The Love Parade's' garage grunge, 'The Sin Of Pride's' look at love and intimacy -- had little chance against an array of keyboards, exotic percussion, Rbacking vocalists, and slushy strings. While the Undertones surely deserved a mass audience, an opening, overblown remake of the Isley Brothers' 'Got To Have You Back' -- which also flopped as a single that March -- wasn't the answer, when other groups (like Dexy's Midnight Runners) were exploiting soul-pop with greater finesse. As Rykodisc's ressiue proves, John's brooding, mantra-like, five and six minute ballads ('Bittersweet, ' 'I Can Only Dream'), or the brash pop of Damian's 'You Stand So Close (But You're Never There)' would have strengthened The Sin Of Pride -- had they only been included. Even 'Window Shopping For New Clothes, ' which John sang, deserved better than B-side duty on March's other non-charting single, 'Chain Of Love'. Damian was adamant about 'Bittersweet, ' only to see those hopes dashed by the inclusion of 'Got To Have You Back.' Since the pre-CD era only allowed 20 minutes on each side, the ballads had to give, he explains. John recalls the group being unhappy with the vocals, leaving 'Bittersweet' and 'I Can Only Dream' for another album. Ironically, while EMI had final say over track listings, early test pressings naming the deleted ballads still crept out (and are among the rarest Undertones items, should you actually own one!) John blames Pride's failure to Hedges ('I grew to loathe the guy, couldn't stand him -- he'd act in a puerile way'), and intra-band isolation: 'I wanted Feargal to listen to Al Green; Feargal would say, 'Get lost! I'm going to sing like Feargal Sharkey.' Some songs sound great, but -- there was no communication between us at all.' 'It was a serious mistake, tryin' to do something with soul!' snorts Bradley, while Doherty pr