Flagpole
circa 1994

The Brotherhood of Lizards: Lizardland

No one said that the British had cornered the market when it comes to quirky, playful pop. But I can think of very few countries that have given the world so many. From the scepter'd isle has come a host of eccentric bands, each bearing their own brand of silly, disposable culture, each offering an indispensable slice of mortar for the wall. XTC, Robyn Hitchcock, Squeeze, Billy Bragg, Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe all spring to mind as this particular genre is brought up. And all of them are as English as kidney pie. Add tot his list the name of Martin Newell.

Originally the leader of The Cleaners From Venus, Newell made his reputation in England through a series of home-made cassettes, some of which achieved legendary status. A status of such import as to attract the ear of one Andy Partridge, the reigning kink of quirk-pop. (This alliance led to one of the more attractive releases of 1994, The Greatest Living Englishman, reviewed with glowing adjectives by yours truly in these very pages. Weren't you paying attention?)

Newell has much in common with Partridge: An unmistakable and unique vocal characteristic well-suited for the lightness of his music; Unusual guitar style, especially in the area of chord placement and strumming style; an angular songwriting technique that leans more into Costello/Hitchcock territory (perhaps in part due to the fact that Newell "tours" his material as a street busker, much like Costello and Hitchcock did in their early careers).

After the (relative) success of The Greatest Living Englishman (the knowledge that XTC fans will buy Andy's used tissues probably prompted the record company to feature Partridge's name prominently on the CD cover, when in fact he was nothing more than the producer and occasional guitarist), Long Play has released this winning collaboration between Newell and a young drummer/mandolinist named Nelson (who has sprung up from time to time with New Model Army).

Lizardland takes the charming innocence of the best of The Cleaners' music and puts it through a bit more production, creating a sweet retrospective of why pop music is so wonderful. Interestingly, the album was recorded in Newell's home in 1989 on a inexpensive 8-Track for the amazing sum of 23 English pounds (that's about, well, $50). (Just to put that into perspective, think of it this way: Don Henley probably doesn't BLINK for 23 pounds!) For so little, we are handed something that has stood up to the test of these five years, priceless in it's simplicity.

In fact, I was shocked to read the press kit and find that this collection was more than FIVE MONTHS old. But, if one ponders the species, pop is SUPPOSED to be timeless. And I could tell you specific songs where Newell reaches far beyond mere pop ("It Could Have Been Cheryl," The Dandelion Marine" and "Dear Anya" cannot be removed from your head with anything less that a lobotomy), but suffice it to say that the album (to quote Ira Robbins, who is quoted in the press kit) is merely splendid in every respect. And while it's a cheap way to end a review, I can think of no higher praise: essential stuff.

- by J.E. Sumrell

Go back to Jangly Press Clippings.