From 1988 to 1991, The Field Mice epitomised the evil that was fey indie jangling....
FROM 1988 TO 1991, THE FIELD MICE epitomised the evil that was fey indie jangling. Nurtured by Bristol’s deeply unfashionable Sarah Records, they defined a genre of sweet, articulate pop that spawned a thousand floppy-fringed imitators, none of who came even close to achieving their aching intimacy.
A creative outlet for south London’s serial-heartbreaker Bob Wratten, The Field Mice never really reached their full potential, hampered by inter-band relationships, but this 36-song collection paints a picture of a group equally at home with a battered acoustic or flirting with technology.
Early tinny thrash-outs like ‘Sensitive’ nestle alongside one-time [I]NME Single Of The Week[/I] ‘Missing The Moon’, where acid house meets New Ordered pop. Aside from the effortless melodies, Wratten wrote some of the most affecting lyrics in modern pop. [I]”Ride with me to the next station, I want to spend another half-hour with you”[/I], he trembles on ‘So Said Kay’, the trivial made thrillingly poignant.
Saint Etienne launched their career with a cover of the Mice’s ‘Let’s Kiss And Make Up’. Not many people know that. Now you can find out everything you need. A priceless