What's My Name? (Slight Return)

I've written before that a crucial point in any fledgling band’s existence is when the point comes to choose a name, and the theme has been playing on my mind again recently. There are many considerations: how it sounds, how it looks on posters and the connotations it carries.

Having a great name can carry a band even if their image is a lot of cobblers. It would have been easy for the Human League to be known as Stupid Haircut if not for having such an ace handle. It doesn't need to be something too clever either: after all, the Smiths is as basic as it gets, but hints towards the band’s songs of normal working class lives.

Naturally, some get away with having a lousy name. Generally, it works if the look can compensate. The Beatles, as I said, is a terrible name. But first with their leather-clad rent boy look, then the smart suits and mop tops, they looked great – perfect for the oncoming TV age – and it’s easy to see how they became the biggest band in the world instead of more staid lookers like the Shadows. Equally so, Paul Weller could get over naming his band the Jam because he was a dynamic, handsome young lad with great taste in clothes that ensured he appealed to plenty of folk. That he fell into the same trap with the Style Council is a bit inexcusable, mind.

XTC may well have been a bunch of hicks from Swindon initially smuggling a ride on the punk bandwagon, but Andy Partridge knew exactly what he was doing when he picked the name. On a poster, it looks great – three capital letters suggesting high energy. Equally so, the Go-Betweens acts as a clue to more sussed people of the literary qualities of that band’s music.

Then there are bands who fail miserably on both counts: crap name, crap look. The biggest culprits of this that spring to mind are 80s Scouse synth-pop merchants A Flock of Seagulls, the band who got me thinking on these lines again while listening to their debut album this morning. Taking your name from a lyric by the ultra-macho Stranglers isn't a good starting point in the first place, especially when you look so fey that Belle and Sebastian would think they could take you in a fight. Which brings us to the look: now, younger readers may wish to take a minute to google image the band to see exactly what I’m talking about here.

(pause)

Back? Yeah, I know, I know. You have to ask what Mike Score was thinking about. Actually, I can take a faint guess that he saw the attention Phil Oakey got for his effort and wanted a slice of that action. Being a former hairdresser, he came up with the most bizarre look he could and voila. In fairness, the fact they scored a couple of hits in America (and a Grammy!) would suggest it worked. On the other hand, that they were pretty much finished in a couple of years says otherwise, and how often do you hear them mentioned these days other than as a point of ridicule? See The Wedding Singer and Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction.

Which is a shame, as they should be best remembered for a trio of classic singles in I Ran, Space Age Love Song and Wishing, all of which stand up to anything else from the era. I Ran is also fab enough to be used in the ads for Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, one the best games ever. But fate has decreed that they will be remembered for a haircut: new bands, take note