THE SEAHORSES
Leeds Town & Country Club
PICTURE THIS: an overcast day in December, 1968. Outside the Co-op in Hull town centre a struggling young combo called The Bingo Flob Jam Jar Band are busking traditional hits on washboard, spoons and glockenspiel. 'Mrs Robinson', 'Arnold Layne', 'Delilah'…… the odd spare coin flits through the drizzle onto their damp kaftans. Then, suddenly, Jimi Hendrix leaps from the crowd, plugs his 20-necked strat into their amps and blows the pavement to 'Nam with blazing hot shard metal riffs. He then signs his soul over to the glockenspiel player, sets fire to their plastic tambourine and makes them rich and famous forever until they die. Amen.
Wouldn't happen in another world, eh ? Yet transport this madman's fantasy forward almost 30 years and you have The Seahorses tramping onstage to 'Frosty The Snowman', arms aloft to the baying crowd: to Leeds from York via a quite staggering bucketload of luck. Who would have thought it ? John Squire - the most lauded and applauded axe slinger of his generation - plucking three frisky unknowns from the shop doorways of York to form his comeback strike force ! Three unknowns with only a steadfast ability to recycle Led Zep chord progressions in the style of popular Noelrock groups of the day ! Three unknowns lacking the charisma or talent to upstage the might of his own riff-strangling majest…. Hang on, this is starting to make sense……..
For 'The Seahorses', y'see, read 'John Squire And The Surrogates'. Sure, Squire himself sees The Seahorses as a communal talent machine, already conquering charts and heads with his songs, his guitar licks, and er, one acoustic song by singer Chris Helme. But, from the chunderous opening chords of 'Blinded By The Sun', all sense of cohesion is ripped to shreds and a new agenda is drawn up. To wit: John will play star-burst solos, chase angels along his guitar strings and create sunny domes of ice in the air with the merest flick of his fretward fingers; The Others will chug inoffensively through Cast B-sides and try to avoid sounding a) very interesting, or b) too much like The Waterboys. If they can help it, like.
Thus we witness what is possibly John Squire's lifelong dream - to be the SPECIAL GUEST GUITARIST in his own band for eternity. And a calculating, double-headed beast this Seahorse creature becomes as a result. They're the point on the radio dial where Classic Stodgerock FM merges hazily into Fretwank Night; a live broadcast by The Real People invaded by the lead guitar from the stars. Occasionally the two will synchronise into slightly ram-a-lama pop choons like the World Of Twist-ish 'Suicide Drive' or 'Happiness Is Eggshaped', which stomps David Devant's moustache into a mush of bludgeoning riffs and oomph-AH ! histrionics. But all too often ('1999', 'Round The Universe') they come across as The Monkees joyriding The Levellers' manky tourbus to the beach, only to spin off into an ancient swamp halfway.
The Others hold their own professionally, churning out the elephantine Roses chunder right on cue for 'Standing On Your Head' and performing 'Boy In The Picture' clinically and passionlessly, just like their old Epic Rock Ballad By Numbers guidebook told them to. They have all the qualifications needed to be a successful rock act of '97, in fact: O-Levels in Anthemic Pointing At Audience; BTEC in Advanced Solo Extension; MA in vaguely Baggy Beat Engineering. But leave Chris to fend for himself in the obligatory acoustic solo slot of 'Moving On' and he starts resembling Jackson Browne slumped in Tottenham Court Road tube station, busking for food.
Inspiration is the problem. Where once the magic flowed from Squire's tank-top like honey from the navels of the gods, now it's purely technical; David Copperfield rather than Moses. 'See how wonderfully I wibble !' he seems to declare, teasing us with the opening lick of 'Love Is The Law'. Don't mind us, we're a crap Kula Shaker !' The Others mentally intone, 'but look ! John's wibbling ! BRILLIANT !'
Picture this: a press conference in September 2003. John Squire, hair grown to knee-length perm, announces the split of The Seahorses following their disastrous triple-length second album and a plethora of writs from Robert Plant. "It wasn't what I'd hoped it would be," he announces before drawing back a curtain to reveal his NEW BAND - three crusties with banjos he picked up in Newport Pagnell service station, about to be rocketed to stardom as The Clone Roses !
It wouldn't happen in any other world. So why this one ?
Mark Beaumont
Back To Media 1997