The Flawless Joy Boys

The music of Campag Velocet is a strange beast. It’s either barely tolerated at best or fiercely guarded like a slightly simple, untoward cousin. A kind of yes, I know why you might not like it, but you are wrong – there is something good at the heart of it. Even if you’re not sure what it is.

Led by Pete Voss, they appeared out of the arse end of Britpop with a slightly abrasive, faux thuggish play on a mixture of guitars, Weatherall-ed Primal Scream, and Eno-ish soundscapes. They hit with Bon Chic Bon Genre, a 97 second statement of booming, snarling intent that disrupted the flow of pop from the previous four or five years. I remember hearing it for the first time on The Evening Session, and then in the weekly visit to the slippery floored palace of dreams. It sounded immense.



Campag Velocet – Bon Chic Bon Genre


And that’s probably where it started to go wrong. Instant attention was paid, and unfortunate comparisons were drawn. Voss was modelled in the image of the still ruling Liam Gallagher, but where his unfortunate personality was tempered by his brother, Voss went it alone and was pretty much unlikeable, press wise anyway. He was aggressive, but he didn’t give way into soundbite or pap shot, and it didn’t really sit well in the likes of NME, it couldn’t really be sanitised.

Then, the album came. Bon Chic Bon Genre opened with the single, but then segued into all kinds of moments that didn’t quite match. The instrumental soundscapes, the odd indie pop song, the incongruity. Voss’ lyrics were open to ridicule – an over reliance on Anthony Burgess’ Nadsat suggested both unoriginality and over adherence to the droog mentality. The rest of the apparent stream of consciousness spewing producing anything but lyrical couplets.

They did get about, but within a year or so, they were gone.



Campag Velocet – Caught Unawares


But not forgotten. The snapshot coverage gained meant they got out there, and opposing tasteful indifference they built up a vociferous following. They popped up here and there keeping the people happy, until they returned in 2004 with It’s Beyond Our Control. More or less of the same, but this time embittered by the experience of the past five years. Vindictive Disco came out first, as a shot across the bow – the indie moment that didn’t represent the album.

I managed to see them a couple of times during the supporting tour, a genuinely good band fronted by a desperate man. It’s not often that you see the premeditation of putting on weight lifting gloves so that a tambourine can be driven into a palm as hard as is possible. Scribbled sheets of A4 were rifled through, until something suitable came to hand. Sometimes it matched, sometimes it didn’t. What struck me though, was the crowd. They’d been waiting for the return, and they were jubilant. They were sharing something, and they knew what it was.

The stand out moments from the album demonstrate everything you need to know – lyrical questions remain, but the intent is there. And you make your choice – you either like it or you don’t.



Campag Velocet – Motown Clic...

Campag Velocet – Ain’t No Funki Tangerine


And that, disappointingly, was it. The courage didn’t really match the conviction, and the fight was over. There isn’t even that much out there about them - the net based fan organisation is gone, a myspace remains (worth visiting for a live download), there are scraps. But that’s it. They’ve almost been erased.

Take it – here - or leave it. It’s your choice.


Tiny Dancer


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