The La's ‎Callin' All

The La's Callin' All

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You can generally separate people into two classes: Those who love The La's, and those who've never heard 'em. Okay, that's not really true—but in a fair world it would be. For a band that only made one album, which they wrote off immediately upon release, they've enjoyed a hell of a ride as the poster boys for the age old tale of talented musicians who could't help from shooting themselves in their collective foot. So, twenty years after The La's came out, is it surprising to find a 4-CD box set that comprises all the other versions of songs from their sole album outing that were recorded way back then? It shouldn't be. Callin' All is two discs of A-sides, B-sides, and outtakes, plus two discs of live recordings, including two complete concerts from 1989 and '91, and a detailed book about why Lee Mavers virtually ran his band into the ground trying to find the perfect takes or recordings of a dozen songs that define indie pop in its most pleasurable form. And that is, songs where great melodies are key, simple, thoughtful lyrics are the keyring, and chiming acoustic and electric guitars are the hasp. [Lord, that is the worst analogy I've ever typed!] Surely you've heard "There She Goes," the song on which what little popularity the band's enjoyed is hung. And chances are, if you're reading this review (and not sleeping at the laptop), you've heard the other great songs that make up their lone LP, produced primarily by Steve Lillywhite from what he thought were the best recordings and takes available. Well, long story short, Mavers was never happy with the album, continued recording the same songs (with big league producers like Bob Andrews, John Leckie, Mike Hedges, and more), and eventually drove his bandmates and fanmates nuts. The band splintered (trusty righthand man and bassist John Power went on to play in Cast), the fans moved on, and poor ol' Lee kept on at it.This box set is for those of us who can't get enough of The La's and Mavers' raspy-but-right vocal delivery, even if it means shelling out 40 pounds for umpteen versions of "IOU," "I Can't Sleep," "Doledrum," "Looking Glass," and the other brilliant gems that make up the bulk of his songbook. There aren't a lot of major differences in the different takes, but they are a pleasurable lot (and they're different from the ones that make up disc 2 of the Deluxe Edition of The La's), and even if they're a bit much, there are two great concerts and two radio sessions that show what these guys were like in front of an audience. It's a real nice box,but it's worth the cost and the hunt. Yeah, it may have more versions of "Son of a Gun" than most mortals can stand, but personally I think it's fine if you're in the right line...

The La's The La's Remastered As Nominated By Roisin O'Shea

The La's The La's

Also Available Deluxe Edition 

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Some albums exist outside of time or place, gently floating on their own style and sensibility. Of those, the La's lone album may be the most beguiling, a record that consciously calls upon the hooks and harmonies of 1964 without seeming fussily retro, a trick that anticipated the cheerful classicism of the Brit-pop '90s. But where their sons Oasis and Blur were all too eager to carry the torch of the past, Lee Mavers and the La's exist outside of time, suggesting the '60s in their simple, tuneful, acoustic-driven arrangements but seeming modern in their open, spacy approach, sometimes as ethereal as anything coming out of the 4AD stable but brought down to earth by their lean, no-nonsense attack, almost as sinewy as any unaffected British Invasion band. But where so many guitar pop bands seem inhibited by tradition, the La's were liberated by it, using basic elements to construct their own identity, one that's propulsive and tuneful, or sweetly seductive, as it is on the band's best-known song, "There She Goes." That song is indicative of the La's material in its melodic pull; the rest of the album has a bit more muscle, whether the group is bashing out a modern-day Merseybeat on "Liberty Ship" and bouncing two-step "Doledrum," or alluding to Morrissey's elliptical phrasing on "Timeless Melody." This force gives the La's some distinction, separating them from nostalgic revivalists even as their dedication to unadorned acoustic arrangements separates them from their contemporaries, but it's this wildly willful sensibility -- so respectful of the past it can't imagine not following its own path -- that turns The La's into its own unique entity, indebted to the past and pointing toward the future, yet not belonging to either.