The Charlatans’ 35-year-and-counting saga of tragedy, triumph, and survival is well-documented. They are now an institution in their native England, and have been for quite some time. Over the decades, they have remained one of the UK’s most consistent and consistently successful bands. Unlike many groups of their vintage, they’ve never enjoyed the hype of a reunion and reunion tour because they’ve never split up. Their longevity is both legendary and taken for granted in equal measure, and it all sprang from Some Friendly and the events surrounding it.
In early 1990, the Charlatans had an indie hit with “Indian Rope”, signed with Beggars Banquet, and had a mainstream hit with “The Only One I Know”, in rapid succession. The rush was on to get an album on the shelves. This sense of urgency was in no small part due to the Charlatans being viewed by the music press and many fans as part of the Manchester-based “baggy” indie dance-rock phenomenon. The scene had made stars of the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays, but it was already beginning to wane. There was no time to waste.
When it was released in October 1990, Some Friendly dutifully went straight to #1 on the UK charts, but the success was not without its share of caveats. To many listeners and critics, the Charlatans were little more than Stone Roses wannabes, or, even worse, Inspiral Carpets wannabes. They were posers who happened to have one really catchy song. They weren’t even from Manchester. Others, though, saw them as baggy’s apotheosis—talented musicians who had the chops and the tunes to match the moptops and attitude.
Listening to this newly remastered “Expanded Edition” of Some Friendly, it isn’t difficult to hear what the fuss and polarization were about. From the moment the opener “You’re Not Very Well” comes bounding to life, the band’s strengths are clear. The rhythm section is cracking. Over the top, Rob Collins’ Hammond organ is not just a novelty; it’s a revelation. Collins is a virtuoso, dropping leads and hooks, keeping the rhythm moving, and filling in quirks and details as the situation demands. Tim Burgess, despite (or maybe in part because of) his demure delivery, is a frontman who has already learned the potency of mixing mystery and charisma.
The songs don’t always come through, a fact which the band have admitted. Some Friendly gets by on a handful of outright bangers. “The Only One I Know” remains a Charlatans touchstone for good reason. Riding on Martin Blunt’s rubberband bassline and making good use of the shuffle rhythm that permeates the album, and punctuated by Collins’ organ stabs and Jon Baker’s wah-wah guitar, the track has energy and buoyancy that, even 35 years on, still sounds only barely contained. The malicious “Then” embeds its groove into the consciousness through sheer force of will, while the rumbling, epic closer “Sproston Green” towers over everything that’s come before it.
Amid the pervasive bagginess, the band attempt some diversity, with mixed results. “Flower” is a charming bit of Felt-inspired jangle pop, which highlights Collins’ angelic backing vocals, and “Opportunity” spaces out convincingly. However, the stammering sound collage “109 Pt. 2” and ridiculous dance jam “Polar Bear” (“It’s that white thing over there”, in case anyone was wondering) fall flat. “Believe You Me” is a lesser, transparent rewrite of “The Only One I Know”, definitive evidence that the Charlatans’ career at this point was moving faster than they could handle.
In 1991, the band made several halting moves to wrest back control of the narrative and determine a path forward. The first of those was the “Over Rising” single, which, along with the “Then” single, makes up the second disc of this “Expanded Edition” of Some Friendly. “Over Rising” and its B-sides are, song for song, stronger than most of Some Friendly.
“Happen to Die”, especially the unedited version (which eventually surfaced as the B-side of yet another single), is the highlight. Tougher, brasher, and funkier than anything they’d done to that point, with some incendiary work from Rob Collins, it launches the Charlatans toward a higher plane. It was slated as the A-side, but, alas, Gulf War concerns about the title nixed the plan. “Over Rising” was a relative disappointment in the charts, and the critical backlash ensued apace, a sequence of events that helped lead to Jon Baker’s ouster.
The story is told through this “Expanded Edition”, putting a fairly tidy bow on this phase of the group’s career. Remastered sound can be a dubious selling point, but in this case, it makes a tangible difference. Chris Nagle’s production on Some Friendly was always clean and crisp as a fresh sheet of paper, but also just as thin. Now it’s at least a bit fuller and more dynamic. In the end, the Charlatans’ subsequent career has, in hindsight, rendered Some Friendly more valuable than most anyone expected. It’s not one of their best albums, but it’s definitely one of their most important.