The timeline of music over the last half century or more is littered with recordings a handful of people will insist are lost classics. This likely started in the 70s, when acts who were out of or ahead of their time dissolved with minimal trace after limited sales, only for appreciation to develop after the fact, resulting in albums like Comus’ First Utterance (1971) earning a near-mythical status (and insane price tag) prior to a succession of reissues. The same is true of acts like the criminally-underrated God Machine. But the punk era and thereafter brought about a new wave, and a new kind, of forgotten bands and lost classics, many who would likely achieve a following which was primarily local or regional, with their legacy being limited to maybe a 7” EP or two which was either self-released or put out by a minor indie label with limited distribution, with only a few hundred copies pressed. Oftentimes, it’s almost impossible to prove or disprove whether the mythological status is justified.
Growing up in Lincoln in the 80s and 90s, I would often hear of The Cigarettes as being the best, most incredible, most legendary act the city had ever produced. I’ve still never heard a single song by them, and the chances are I’d be disappointed if I did. In fact, I think I’d prefer to never hear them, although the Louder than War review of their retrospective / complete works album released in 2019 describes the band as ‘THE Great Lost Band of the later punk years.’
Consider how this will pan out over the next twenty to thirty years. So many acts now release solely digitally, or with maybe fifty 7” singles, or a run of tapes in single figures. When Spotify ceases to exist (which it will) and other extant platforms peter out, the legacy of many acts will simply be erased forever and, for the handful who remember them, they will exist solely in legacy. Already so many acts I’ve reviewed over the last fifteen years who have called it a day have deleted their Bandcamp and Soundcloud accounts: I have downloads and promo CD-r of some, but not all, and were it not for my reviews, I might wonder if I dreamed them. Hell, a significant number of reviews I’ve had published through the years have gone, and maybe I did. Anyone who thinks the Internet is the virtual archive of everything ever, which it once promised to be, is mistaken. The archive is dissolving before our eyes.
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York power pop group Nerve Senta released their eponymous debut via Supermusic Records in 1981. They called time the following year and despite a one-off reunion show in 2010, the album’s been unavailable since its release. And of course, the going rate for a vinyl copy is now about £40.
Ian Cole, a regular on the electronic music scene in recent years, recently sold up his music shop and retired to Somerset. But while some retire to put their feet up, Cole’s using the time afforded him by retirement to do the stuff he didn’t have time for while working, and the output from his label, Sinners Music, is just one example.
Having played keyboards on the album, he’s spent eighteen months painstakingly digitising it from a vinyl after discovering the original masters were lost. The results were worth the effort: this sounds crisp, tight, clean, and fresh. This has never been a style I’ve been drawn to, but it’s impossible to deny the appeal of the uptempo pop stylings with strong hooks and catchy choruses. I mean, it’s FUN. There are some nagging, buoyant basslines and some nifty guitar details, and if ‘Nerve Senta’ calls to mind a stack of other contemporary acts, and at times lands in the region of Elvis Costello crossed with 10cc and Rockpile. The fact that it stands up quite nicely against these artists not only justifies this reissue, but also warrants any claims of its being a lost classic.
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