#The sundays static and silence rar Patch
This, it must be said, is down most of all to one salient point: nothing at all wrong with the rhythm section, of course (in fact, drummer Patch Hannan would go on to appear on one of the decade's most underrated albums, theaudience's splendid debut), but the Sundays' charm has survived chiefly because they were helmed by two thoroughly stellar talents. Little wonder it was so adored back then, but what's perhaps surprising is the potency it retains even stripped of all that context.
Needless to say, the obligatory A&R bunfight ensued, followed by a solitary single that went on to top by a whisker the most top-end-classic-heavy (at least since punk) of John Peel's Festive 50s and then a for-the-time substantial hiatus that led to this being arguably the most salivatingly-anticipated album of its era. Come to think of it, that'd be quite the sight to behold even now. Anyway, imagine the collective sigh of relief when Camden started regularly playing host to a band who could actually be the Smiths and the Cocteaus IN THE SAME SONG. Yes, we know, but it was a far more purist age. This, you'll recall, was when the still-going journeyman phase of Johnny Marr's career really began in earnest, when the notion of things as post-Housemartins referred to their dissolution rather than their figurehead status, and when the indie charts were overrun by - wah! - house music and - double wah! - Kylie Minogue. Of course, to really appreciate the impact of the Sundays, it's instructive to look back ever so slightly earlier, to a time that, for a significant sector of the music press readership, was something of an annus horribilis some time before that phrase had really developed much cultural currency, namely 1988. The first great album of this decade is something that looks likely to be up for debate for some time yet, but there was a time when things were rather more clear-cut specifically, thirty years ago.
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