As Strange as a Conspiracy

Ask people to name a 80s band with a mono-monikored frontman who dealt in lyrics of loneliness and angst, backed by a genius guitarist and most times you'd get the Smiths as an answer. But they were beaten to it by a Birmingham outfit called Felt, who released ten albums and ten singles in ten years.

Singer/guitarist/songwriter Lawrence (who ditched his surname) first appeared when he released the single Index, a low-fi affair that featured only himself. Soon afterwards, he met guitarist Maurice Deebank. Classically trained, he apparently had little knowledge of the bands Lawrence loved, such as Television, whose Tom Verlaine his singing style would draw comparisons to. Around this time, the only other constant to the line-up, drummer Gary Ainge, signed up. Strangely, he'd become the only person to appear on every Felt album.

The first two LPs, Crumbling The Antiseptic Beauty and The Splendour of Fear were both six songs long, with lengthy instrumental numbers dominated by Deebank's intricate playing mixing with Lawrence's downbeat vocals and minimal post-punk structures. More accessible moments like The World Is As Soft As Lace and Fortune were echos of their approach to singles - which were often short, poppy affairs, such as Penelope Tree and Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow.

Throughout this time, Deebank would often quit the band for periods, only to eventually return. Bassists would also come and go, and Felt maintained only a cult appeal, being only on the small Cherry Red label and not having a strong work ethic when it came to touring or playing the media game. The singer once noted that "One interview a year is enough as long as it's a good one and the photos are right."

Things seemed to be going forward when they recorded The Strange Idols Pattern and Other Short Stories with producer John Leckie. An album of short, sharp songs that showcased Deebank's wonderful talents as well as Lawrence's sardonic view of life ("we may as well stay in our rooms until we die"). While it still didn't make the charts, it set a marker down for what might happen.

It's follow up, Ignite The Seven Cannons saw Felt recruit local keyboard genius Martin Duffy and getting the Cocteau Twin's Robin Guthrie on board as producer. With the latter came Elizabeth Fraser to provide additional vocals to what would be Felt's one brush with the mainstream. Primitive Painters sounded like nothing they'd did before (or would do): a clean verse/chorus structure, a epic guitar solo and Lawrence singing that we should "see my trail of disgrace/it's enough to scare the whole human race".

Shortly after a tour with the Cocteaus, Deebank left for the last time. He'd married a woman he'd met in Barcelona and would barely be heard of again, outside co-writing a St Etienne b-side. Years ago, I read an interview in which Richard Hawley said one of his fellow applicants to be in Morrissey's backing band in the late 80s was Deebank. I can't help but feel Moz missed a trick there.

Now signed to the youthful Creation label and with a stable line up (Lawrence, Duffy, Ainge and bassist Marco Thomas), it might have been the time to aim for the charts. Instead, Lawrence insisted on releasing a 20 minute long album of instrumentals called Let The Snakes' Heads Crinkle Themselves to Death. Then came The Ballad of the Band single, a moment of genius in which Lawrence first insults his former bandmate Deebank - "Where were you when I wanted to work?/You're still in bed, you're a total jerk" - before accepting that part of the problem is himself - "It's all my fault, I'm to blame/ain't go no money, ain't go no fame".

Following up a classic single needed a classic album, especially after the Snakes' Heads weirdness. So it proved with Forever Breaths The Lonely Word. Dominated by Duffy's organ lines and jangling guitars, Lawrence wrote a flawless album (the first without any instrumental numbers) that matched anything that the Smiths were doing at the time. It's centrepiece, the magnificent All The People I Like Are Those That Are Dead is as brilliant as it's title.

However, with Lawrence still being something of an eccentric (stories of his odd behaviour are many), the breakthrough never happened. Subsequent albums Poem Of The River and The Pictorial Jackson Review were both great - the latter featuring one half Lawrence songs, one half Duffy solo on piano. Duffy would also dominate the ninth album, Train Above The City, on which Lawrence merely named the songs and didn't play a note.

By 1989, the ten year/album/single plan was almost complete. They left Creation, as the label was unable to release Me And a Monkey On The Moon by year's end. Produced by the late Adrian Borland, it was perhaps Lawrence's most personal work, starting with the mournful I Can't Make Love To You Anymore and covering subjects such as an experience of being molested as a child "because I looked so pretty".

After a final gig in Birmingham, that was it. Occasional mentions have been made of Felt in the media by the likes of Alan McGee and Stuart Murdoch from Belle and Sebastian, who is a huge fan. Martin Duffy has since enjoyed a very successful career in Primal Scream while Lawrence went back to glam rock with Denim for two albums, and has released occasional weird pop songs as Go-Kart Mozart. Talk of a documentary film, Lawrence of Belgravia, seems to have come to nothing. Last I read, he lives in a tiny flat in London and still dreams of writing a chart topper.