Felix NEill

Bill's second solo album was another limited edition double, which like "Quit Dreaming And Get On The Beam" came with a strangely brittle and yet spangly instrumental album entitled "La Belle Et La Bête".

We should probably deal with the main album first. "The Love That Whirls" might just have been Nelson's commercial high point - at least, since the almost-there days of Be Bop Deluxe. The thing about Bill is that (just like us), he's just a wee bit too "off" to ever truly appeal to the herd, so even his commercial successes are still a bit too niche.

Just the way we like 'em.

In truth, this is a superb art pop album, brimming with great tunes, melodies, performances and inventiveness. But then that was what we had come to expect. When I was about 16, I mail ordered a brilliant compilation VHS from Cabaret Voltaire's nascent DoubleVision label. Nestled among the Cabs' disturbing ambient washes, the multitudinous American shorts featuring images of Frankenstein's monster intercut with graphic childbirth and the frankly fucking disturbing Renaldo And The Loaf video, was a breathtaking B&W video for Nelson's "Flaming Desire". I promise to you now, that in those pre-internet days and STARVED of decent non-mainstream stimulus (indeed, even ANTI-mainstream thrills), I played this fucking tape till the magnetic particles had all but fallen off. It was his wife in the video. It was scuzzily low tech and low budget, but had a towering ambition which effortlessly negated those obstacles. I was the BEST VIDEO I HAD EVER SEEN.

And then, the album. A sojourn to Earthquake Records one Saturday, returning home with not one, but two albums. Textured sleeve. Inner sleeves. An inner A4 sheet, asking me if I wanted to join the fan club with the promise of quarterly 7" EPs (I did join, the promise was kept faithfully).

"The Love That Whirls" is filled with really, really good pop songs. Much less angular that the "Sound On Sound" and "Quit Dreaming..." albums. Ever current, Nelson was transmogrifying from post-prog innovator, through new wave spikiness, onwards and upwards into the brave new world of cheapening technology and brave-new-world electropop. What an amazing success this album is. His voice and lyrics alone are worth the price of admission.

"La Belle Et La Bête" purported to be a soundtrack album of a staging of (Nelson's hero) Jean Cocteau's 1946 filmed version of Beauty And The Beast by The Yorkshire Actors Company. Revisiting this album, I had convinced myself that this was probably an elaborate ruse, but re-reading the sleeve notes again, I'm thinking that this was probably true. If there is anyone out there who was either involved in this company, or saw one of their performances, I would dearly love to hear from you.

The instrumental album itself is a glorious affair. Many, many short tracks and fragments of delicious fragility combine to make a seamless whole. Ironically, it is here that the angularity of Nelson's earlier work bubbles it's way to the surface. There are bells. This record was one of my earliest encounters with proper ambient, or "Furniture Music", although I definitely had some Eno stuff by the time this (and his previous record) appeared. I was once again thrilled that there was more of this stuff appearing. Although "The Love That Whirls" has been subsequently reissued, this second album never has been, as far as I know. I'm pretty sure that some Orb samples have been sourced from this album. So, you know, we're in pretty good company here.

"What's he been up to since?" I hear you ask. Well, there is a predictably extensive back catalogue of self released stuff available from the the man himself over at his website. There remains a dedicated set of fans who support him and the stuff he produces continues to follow his obsessions of a romantic, shiny new future in an endearing and heartwarming way.

What a guy.

Vinyl rips at 320 Kbps with full artwork.

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