In 1989, Joanna were on the cusp of something bigger, their sound alive with the same electricity sparking through the North West of England. Yet in a world where gatekeepers decided who would rise and who would vanish, their debut never saw daylight. Now, 35 years later, ‘Hello Flower’ blooms at last — a time-capsule of youthful abandon, freed from the silence it was once consigned to, and finally able to be heard on its own terms.
‘Hello Flower’ is set to be released through US-label New Feelings on December 5th, and today the band share the album opener “If You Don’t Want Me To”.
This single is a first look at these long-forgotten ¼-inch reel tapes, discovered in a Manchester apartment loft. It starts with a boldly simplistic drumbeat, something the band’s drummer Alty, just 15 when he joined the band, wrote as an exercise in school. The tune’s minimal, pulsing rhythm locks into a groove that nods to the same spirit as The Stone Roses’ ‘’Fools Gold’ while hinting at the euphoric lift that would later define Primal Scream’s ‘Screamadelica’. When Ty’s slide guitar hits at the bridge, it brings the track into the outer atmosphere of early 90’s indie dance.
Lyrically, the song brims with the messy thrill of teenage desire, capturing the push-and-pull of youthful romance with a mix of swagger and vulnerability.
Listen to “If You Don’t Want Me To”: https://helloflower.bandcamp.com/track/if-you-dont-want-me-to
It’s 1989. The Stone Roses are dominating the Indie scene and music press. Happy Mondays are laying the foundations of what would come to be known as the Madchester era with chaotic live performances. All eyes are on the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution. Along the East Lancs Road, throughout industrial heartlands between Manchester and Liverpool, punctuated by woollyback accents, four young musicians meet and form the next contender for the scene’s attention, Joanna. Neil Holliday (vocals) and Terry Lloyd (bass), work colleagues from Runcorn and Widnes, join forces with Leigh Music College students Tyrone Holt (guitar) and Carl Alty (drums). They hail from thoroughly working-class backgrounds, raised by hard working dads and harder working mothers. Rejected by other local bands because of their perceived youthful naïveté, the four lads create a world of their own inside Pentagon Studios in Widnes. This world includes a stolen smoke machine and strobe lights, a wooden shack to prevent feedback on the vocals, and the occasional friend who would dance around wildly.
“I think the first tune we rehearsed was called (I Wanna) Marry Joanna,” says Holliday, “I’d never sang into a mic before and had no clue about levels, amps or speakers and started sweating after a couple of failed attempts to vocalise the words I had on a scrap of paper about smoking weed.”
Each track on ‘Hello Flower’ came together in the Pentagon rehearsal room, a fusion of hard-edged indie rock with bass funk rhythms and crunching guitar riffs spiraling into infinity. With a clear sixties influence, Joanna was impossible to ignore and irresistibly danceable. Listening back today, their music evokes fantasies of Hacienda acid trip jubilees, where the hook is secondary to the groove and attitude. Organic and jammy, their demos are infused with a kinetic energy, full of the defining youthful experience of figuring it out.
Their momentum grew quickly. They were interviewed on the cult Kiss FM by future Best Selling author and filmmaker Jon Ronson, performed at the 1500 capacity Ritz in Manchester, International 1 and Liverpool Polytechnic. The band secured coveted support slots for established acts of the time including Shack, Dr. Phibes and the House of Wax Equations, Rig, and Asia Fields. After recording several demos, Joanna had the opportunity to perform in London.
It seemed like a given. The A&R people would show up, the band would sign a contract backstage, and their local-legend status would evolve into international superstardom. They were already mentioning an upcoming record deal in interviews, with a bravado that inspired one journalist to describe Joanna as epitomising “the simple beauty of youth.” Bands like World of Twist, Charlatans, Rig and Paris Angels had all followed a similar route towards recognition and secured record deals. A few hours before their fateful London show after the band had sound-checked, singer Neil bumped into a girl he knew from school. She had started dating a guy with a good job and settled into London life and escaped beyond their small-town limitations. She’d made it out. Neil puffed out his chest and let her know about Joanna’s big show and imminent success. She laughed. Neil returned to the venue in a black mood, leading to a domino-like fall of morale. They were never offered a record deal.
As soon as doubt was seeded about the individual talent of any one member, and strategy became more important than expression, Joanna started to lose its magic. Wounded, they limped along for another year, never recovering their initial verve. This story doesn’t have the happy ending of instant success, but it does preserve something much more ephemeral and unique. Joanna constantly brushed shoulders with fame as manager and friend Martin Royle pulled the strings with a quiet determination in the background. A major player in the Liverpool scene, Dave Pichilingi, offered to manage the band. The Boardwalk, which later became the rehearsal space for Oasis, asked Joanna to headline their re-opening after a major refurb, selling the venue out. Was a certain young roadie called Noel Gallagher there to witness the evening while he was putting his own band together? Definitely. Hand-written letters on headed stationery, recently found in the attic of the Isle of Man home of Royle, show labels like Rough Trade, Factory Records and Polydor courted and encouraged the band to keep playing and recording.
Thirty-five years later, these long-forgotten ¼-inch reel tapes from Pentagon Studios were discovered in a Manchester apartment loft. These musical time capsules contained tracks the band members themselves hadn’t heard in over three decades, offering a poignant reconnection with their creative past and tantalising glimpses of what might have been. “We realised we were actually as good as we remembered,” says Alty. The memories between the band members are blurred and contradictory but the tapes hold everything together, they are real, definite and irrefutable. With the release of ‘Hello Flower’, Joanna is no longer “the most popular band without a record out,” as NME called them in 1990, but their singular spirit is now available for anyone who wants a taste. The simple beauty of youth can only be experienced when you are invincible, fulfilling your natural destiny, buoyed by complete optimism… This record captures innocence untainted by failure. Beyond analysis, beyond critique, just lost in the groove.
Keep your mind open.
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[Thanks to Kate at Stereo Sanctity.]
