For me, the definitive moment from THE CHAMELEONS is missing from their career-spanning retropective 'Return Of The Roughnecks compilation. It happens around three minutes into their cover of Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles. Mark Burgess has spat out Lennon’s mystic ramblings with an intensity that could make John Lydon wet himself and the song feels like it can’t get any bigger. It sounds like how looking into the night sky feels. You’re lost in the immense vastness of the universe but you know that witnessing this moment somehow makes your life feel undeniably special. At that point Burgess, hoarse and pissed off, starts to change Lennon’s holy tablature: “Turn off your mind, relax and float up stream… If that’s all you want.”
At this moment The Chameleons are staring into a moment of complete spiritual transcendence and tell it to fuck off. Yes, of course life is beautiful and awe-inspiring but you can’t ignore the fact that you’ve got bills to pay and you’re skint. It’s all well and good for Lennon to contemplate his mental inner space rolling around on the floor of his mansion, but The Chameleons were from Middleton and the 1980s. For me, what makes The Chameleons so special is their ability to sound as breathtaking as collapsing into your own soul but always ground it with a domesticity that somehow makes it feel even more important.
The final track on this compilation, View From A Hill, is perhaps their own Tomorrow Never Knows. Like Lennon’s masterpiece it’s the sound of an acid trip. But instead of taking place with a copy of the Tibetan Book Of The Dead and a butler on standby, it reflects climbing up Tandle Hill to look out on the suburbs of Manchester. The guitars unravel, lapping against a gorgeous melody, but instead of becoming a thing of absolute beauty, Burgess leaves us hanging on the gut wrenching inconclusive “You wait until your time comes round again”. The instruments all drop out and re-enter one by one in a coda that is part peaceful meditation and part frustrating limbo. Every time I listen to the last three minutes of View From A Hill I hear something different. Sometimes it’s hope and wonder, other times it’s complete dejection. Somehow every time it still remains perfect. It’s the sound of life.
So although The Chameleons’ debut album that View From A Hill comes from may seem like the most obvious place to begin an investigation of this band, 'Return Of The Roughnecks' offers an embarrassing abundance of treasures. It may miss out some of The Chameleons’ more vicious moments but I would argue that this selection (chosen by the band themselves) reveals the ephemeral and almost intangible beauty of their music with an intensity that surpasses their studio albums.
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Their second record had a pomp which is encapsulated with the inclusion of Nostalgia. From their third (and until their reunion final) record we get Swamp Thing, a track that struts with the confidence of making a third album and contains possibly the perfect distillation of The Chameleons’ spirit with the refrain “The storm has come, or is it just another shower”. Returning to their debut, Second Skin is a study on near death experiences and feels on the cusp of immortality before real life comes hurtling back with the haunting drone of “Someone’s banging on my door”. To find all these gems in one place feels like we’re being spoiled.
'Return Of The Roughnecks' also contains the four tracks from their Tony Fletcher Walked On Water La La La La La EP. These were intended to mark the beginning of their fourth album recording sessions, however after the sudden death of their manager Tony Fletcher, the band broke up. The addition of these tracks highlights the heartbreak and fragility that is both an essential part of The Chameleons’ story and their sound.
Why The Chameleons never achieved the popular acceptance of their peers such as U2 or Echo And The Bunnymen remains a mystery. Some blame a technicality in the way the independent charts were classified. They were signed to Statik but distributed by Virgin which meant they didn’t qualify for the independent charts and were often overlooked by the UK music press. Personally I believe it’s because their music always feels like it takes place between two ideas of reality. It’s simultaneously colossal and alone; even their most obvious punk moment In Shreds starts out feeling like a call to arms before resigning to individual helplessness.
Such moments are the stuff life is made of. Unfortunately they don’t always sound great on the radio. Inside, put some headphones on, sit on a train and listen to it until your home town disappears into insignificance. It will sound perfect.
The Chameleons online
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