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Some background to the world of
25 Records

Vanguard
Introducing a new label: 25 Records
Right
where I live, there's a Sommerfields supermarket. And come rain
or shine the first item up for consideration, as an inclusion into
my shopping basket always seems to be a punnet of mouldy raspberries
that some tight-fisted manager has reduced by a measly five pence.
Although tradition dictates that I give this purchase a moments
consideration, it is an inevitability that with nose in the air
Ill scoff at the manager's idea of value for money and search further
afield for something with a bit more quality.
And boy it's a tenuous link, but a lot of people take this kind
of approaches to the kind of stuff that comes from labels like 25
records. Underground and independent is often a bye-word for crap.
But could 25 records be different: are they just mouldy old raspberries
or fruit straight from the Musical Soundgarden of Eden?
The
label was started up in 1994 by Mark Rigler in a place considered
by many managers of Sommerfields to be the rock n roll capital of
the south: Poole. Poole? The philosophy of the label is as Mark
tells me, people doing their own thing, loosely indie pop, believing
in people who believe in themselves. No covers versions for 25 records,
but if some one did a totally new version I wouldn't rule it out.
As of yet 25 records have not had any chart hits although according
to Mark, over the years they have gradually built up, `A big overdraft!`
25 records have bought out a range of compilation CDs. OBVIOUS
is the one we review here. The album is a smooth ride through a
mix of eighties memorabilia and early nineties dance. Shining out
with some difference is Dino and the Lady performed by The Original
Mind with a drama akin to Freddie Mercury in a Flamencan musical.
It's all a lot of fun. Michael Eric Dowey is also worth a mention.
In a different life he could have been making waves in Sarah Records
circles but instead he finds himself right here right now performing
What Love Can Do with a spirit reminiscent of a wet lettuce. The
song starts off in a haunting manner as Dowey`s shaky voice emits
an emotion with enough class to paralyse one's thoughts for five
minutes or so. It's a fairly basic acoustic sound that works well,
until a sublime producing decision sees a Casio 200 beat programme
kick in half way through.
The perennial problem for labels such as these is a lack of publicity
combined with costs that are higher per release than major labels
due to smaller economies of scale. Mark enlightens about production
costs, `A basic CD costs 60p. The big boys pay a lot less than that,
however the production costs are quite high, artwork, mastering
and the biggest cost of promotion. We just about break even, but
that's only because all the people involved at 25 records are currently
working part time and without pay!
Says
Mark, we sell the music direct, if we sold it through shops the
price would be at least double, and we wouldn't see any more money
coming through our letter box. If you want to listen to new and
exciting bands before your mates, buy one of your CDs, after all
we only charge slightly more than the majors charge for a single.
It's a fair point but the truth of the matter is that Obvious does
nothing to break any boundaries and it reeks of eighties. It's definitely
the kind of value for money that Sommerfields managers need to be
aiming at but whether or not it's got much on mouldy strawberries
is a matter of taste.
Said Mark; we are always looking for new bands, so tell people
to send in demos! For a copy of Obvious send a cheque for £6 made
payable to Mark Rigler.
Reviewed in Vanguard, January 1998
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Next joke
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A man and a woman who have never met before find themselves
in the same sleeping carriage of a train.
After the initial embarrassment, they both manage to get
to sleep; the man on the top bunk, the woman on the lower.
In the middle of the night the man leans over and says,
"I'm sorry, but I'm awfully cold and I was wondering if you
could possibly pass me another blanket?"
The woman leans out and, with a glint in her eye, says,
"I've got a better idea...let's pretend we're married."
"Why not," laughs the man.
"Good," she replies. "Get your own fucking blanket."
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