The Vichy Government's Bogus Journey
To mark the tenth anniversary of their début gig, the artists formerly known as The Vichy Government have knocked up a retrospective playlist. Illustration by Russell Taysom, text and tracklist compilation by Alex Sarll. Thanks for the lies and poison.
Can it really be a decade since they first staggered into our ken,
like a pair of belligerent drunks on your doorstep at 3am? Cambridge
made them, but London nurtured them - or at least, gave them a
succession of scenes to alienate. Kentish Town synthpop, New Cross
post-punk, the Upper Street glam revival - drop the Vichy Government
into any of them, and the punters would soon be asking if this was
supposed to be a joke. In an era that thinks Banksy is edgy, it's
always heartening to see the cool kids genuinely offended. Just like,
any time some lazy cunt complains there's no politics and protest
songs in modern pop, there's a joy in saying - no, you just haven't
been paying attention, have you? Never mind - they're coming for you
too.
They never had a hope in Hell of going actual mainstream, obviously;
songs about sectarianism and AIDS don't get covered by earnest retards
on early evening ITV. But we always hoped they'd at least become
enough of a cult that they could afford brand-name fizzy pop when they
poisoned the true believers. Alas, it was not to be. There was a
support slot with England's foremost professional misanthrope, Luke
Haines - winningly, Vichy sang a new number about killing and eating
him. There was another, bafflingly, with the then-fashionable Scissor
Sisters (younger readers: imagine the Village People as played by Alan
Carr). But really, with no Top of the Pops left on which to make that
one scandalous appearance, what would have been the point of crossing
over? Better to skulk back into the shadows that spawned them, knowing
that those who saw them would never forget, or forgive.
The playlist is here:
http://open.spotify.com/user/jamiemanners/playlist/7bid4UsmbJUrFazRUHRhvw



