The Bodines
Publication unknown, 1987
Therese (Magnet)
The Bodines have pumped up 'Therese' and hit out with an all-embracing dance mix. Fiery guitars and glitzy vocals make for a glorious trek down the pop lane.
NME, 9 May 1992
Snake (Creation)
Named, naturally, after Meadowlark Lemon who, if memory serves me right, was the "zany" one in the Harlem Globetrotters cartoon.

Medalark 11 are neither yer average Creation band nor yer average Manc band despite a chirpy sense of rhythm akin to Factory-era James. 'Snake' is an appropriately twisty piece of steel-wire guitar dance music and dead spooky with it and suggests a happier early ACR. Fresh! Zippy! Plangent! Odd! This is what we pay Alan McGee his weight in diamonds for.
David Quantick
NewVOX, issues 42, March 1994New
Medalark XI (Creation CRE LP 145)
Fronted by former Bodine Mick Ryan, this Manchester trio's 1991 debut single 'Snako' [sic] was in the vein of the then 'Blissed Out' Beloved. On signing to Creation, Medlark XI released 'I Call Your Name', a simple melody that ignored their dance orientation and set Mick up as Britain's precursor to Evan Dando.

Despite that song's critical success, it's a formula that they have decided not to repeat on their debut album. Instead, they opt for a loose-limbed, swaggering instrumentation, reminiscent of Happy Mondays. Sadly, some excellent playing and well-written tunes can't hide the fact that Ryan's softm self-conscious vocals simply don't suit this sort of well-managed madness. Consequently, it's the two instrumentals, 'Querelcia' amd 'Metalark' that fare best. In the end, however, Medalark XI's debut seems too unfocussed, out-of-date and lacking in original ideas. 5/10
Lisa Verrico
NME, 9 February 1985
Islington The Three Johns
Six days after their outskirts debut, The Bodines arrived in Central London, one of the most powerful new bands to have emerged in the New Year. Performing on a Rubrik Cube of a stage, the four teenagers that make up this Glossop band wedged power, energy, and effort between a boringly tedious Jasmine Minks sound check and a tediously boring Jasmine Minks set.
The Bodines are actually very young (youngest 15, oldest 19) yet by the time they'd reached their third number, 'I Feel', they were performing like old masters, carefully forging a united sound out of Michael Ryan's excellent sounds. Paul Lilley perched on a pedestal like Keith Moon without the whisky drip frantically pumped out a beat with all his 15 year old might, whilst Paul Brotherton provided an excellent bass line for Ryan to punctuate with his teeth-gritting vocals.
But it's not only youth and talent that is on the side of The Bodines, they also seem to have that energy and enthusiasm that so epitomised the circa '78 Merseyside bands. 'Paradise' accelerated into a fast, dominating mesh of guitar, reminiscent of songs like 'The Puppet' before rigor mortis set into the Bunnymen. 'Will You Shatter' [sic] slowed down the pace and weaved a wordy web 'round a jangly guitar, leaving Ryan to adopt an early Cope-style idol's image - a sort of Kirkby worker's dream come true.
It's impossible not to like The Bodines - in particular, Michael Ryan. He possesses all the quirks and qualities of the early Ian McCulloch. He's effortlessly forceful during songs like 'Paradise', and he's incredibly charismatic during the musical interludes. With a mere flick of his fringe he can replace lyrics with an image that exudes a confidence which captures and carries his audience.
It would be nice if the same could be said of The Jasmine Minks, but tonight they displayed a dullness that these days seems to characterise any band that's been in the business longer than six months. Perhaps it was the two hour soundcheck or perhaps it was the incredibly muffled wooliness of their set, but the only Jasmine image of the evening that sustained was that of the keyboard player combing and recombing his hair IN EVERY MIRROR in the Three Johns pub.
Perm the first band, flick over the straggly bits and cover up the musical bald patches on the second.
Neil Taylor
Publication unknown, 1987?
Hacienda, Manchester
Eclectic, that's the word you keep seeing in the Eighties. It's often the polite way of saying "nothing new here". Apparently The Bodines have survived the obligatory Postcard / Bunnymen comparisons, though on tonight's evidence it's hard to see why. Paul Brotherton guitar sounds alternately like he's into Albrecht or Sargeant. If it were 1981, with Mick Ryan's fringe-in-the-eye job, they'd be genuine rivals to the Bunnymen but it's not and neither are they. The Bodines are a well oiled, finely tuned machine that makes a nicer noise than a Fiat exhaust.
Hitting the home town with a warm-up for their American tour the band are seriously getting down to working their way up. Tomorrow they'll be in California. It's all well played, well rehearsed, well sussed. . . well behaved.
The Bodines simply blend in too well with their mediocre surroundings to be regarded as anything other than the best of the bunch, typical new dark hopes. Geographically California's a fair stretch from Glossop. Musically it won't be so easy to leave behind.
Bill McCoid
Sounds, 1987
University Of London Union
At last, a pop group to sing and dance to. Voice Of The Beehive are two extremely bubbly American female vocalists and a couple of Mad musicians called Woody and Bedders, who've had some free time on their hands since their old group split up. Collectively, this lot blow up some sweet and sour pop bubblegum that makes gig-going fun again.
You can't help but have a good time listening to VOTB. Californian surfing hook lines, shirt-shaking choruses and songs that seem to have been with you since the day you discovered the thrills of pop music, makes them more than just something special. In time, they will be bigger than Fuzzbox, The Bangles, The Shop Assistants and Madonna put together.
Nikki Sudden followed but only succeeded dampening the jollity with his dribbling, self-pitying laments about chicks who no longer want to unzip his rock 'n' roll leathers to blow on his bazooka. Surprise guest Rowland Howard - whose smoky blue guitar chimes are so effective in the City Solution's landscapes - only helped to push Nikki further into the guise of a pantomime figure, acting out the life and death of a rock 'n' roll guitar hero.
The Bodines have left Creation for Magnet Records, and even if they were "never up to the same quality of The Weather Prophets and Primal Scream" - to quote Alan McGee of Creation - they've still created a vitriolic pop gem in 'Therese', tonight's only obvious highlight.
Sadly, The Bodines' sophisticated barrage of post-Postcard guitars sounded confusing; and the songs were always almost there but you knew they would never fully arrive. It also seemed as if smiling was forbidden as a 'let us all go hang ourselves' Joy Division style depression set in.
Because The Bodines are part of the new pop brat pack, it seems they still feel a need to gloss over their charms with miserable romanticism. A depressive angst is always a lot more credible!
Ron Rom
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