Lyceum

“'Lyceum' is a fountainhead of unqualified greatness. It’s a strange, sad sound harking back to old school tunesmanship – Aztec Camera, ‘Rattlesnakes’, prime-time Felt – but the whole affair is permeated with a resonant, almost tearful quality. ‘Lyceum’ is reminiscent of Galaxie 500’s ‘Today’ in that it sounds like it cost less than a round of drinks to produce. But the lo fi sound merely enhances the misty glazed-pop sound and raises the hallelujah choruses to the forefront. Rather than drowning them in production mush. Don’t pass it by”.
– Bob Stanley, Melody Maker 1989

Hailing from the suburbs of Glasgow, this five-piece are best known for their three starry-eyed albums on the renowned Sarah Records - this being an expanded version of their first (an eight-track 10” at the time).
By the tail end of the 1980s the independent music scene in the UK was turning its back on the polish and over-indulgence of the mid-80s with its gated drums and wallpaper production. And those who weren’t stretching the boundaries of sonic innovation had tuned back to the post-punk ethos of ramshackle charm and zealous melody, even dousing the spirit with some political fervour once more. Influences were more likely to be Television and the Television Personalities than MTV.
The Orchids and The Sea Urchins were the first two bands to release 7” singles on the Sarah label having previously begun their recording existence on a shared flexi disc in 1987 (The Sea Urchins went on to become Delta, whose classic album ‘Slippin' Out’ from 2000 will be the second release on Circuitry). The Scottish five-piece released ‘I’ve Got a Habit’ and ‘Underneath the Window, Underneath the Sink’ as EPs before really finding their feet with ‘Lyceum’; the tracks, remastered from the original Toad Hall tapes are included on this reissue as are the three songs from the ‘What Will We Do Next?’ 7” (this collection closes with the frazzled stretch that is ‘Yawn’). 'Lyceum' was originally released in August 1989.
The album opens with ‘It’s Only Obvious’ and its gloriously youthful chorus of “who needs tomorrow when all I need, all I needed was you”. James Hackett somehow appears both forthright and rejected, something that one of their musical heroes The Go-Betweens also had down to a fine art. It barely takes a breath until midway through side two where ‘Hold On’ (sounding suspiciously like an unlikely objective) descends into the intro of ‘Blue Light’, the counted-in ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ whispered like the most hopelessly dejected rally. If that sounds depressing it isn’t. This record by The Orchids was a spirited source of comfort for an 18 year old at the time and still shudders with the best type of melancholy, one that’s spirited not indulgent. If you’re not familiar with the band’s charm, this is where you should begin.