Charly by the Prodigy (XL Recordings)

E-COMMERCE meant something very different to what it means today.

It’s not like we didn’t have good reason. It seemed like Thatcher had been around forever and she didn’t appear to be in a hurry to relinquish her icy, vice-like grip on the throat of the body politic. We were in recession again, apparently, though I don’t remember noticing the last recession ending. Must’ve missed that bulletin.

Under the circumstances, it really did seem like drugs were the only rational response. Just say Yo!

Perhaps not surprisingly, I remember much of this time in big, broad memories and odd, disembodied bits of detail about green trousers, mushroom hair and a terrifying encounter with an eerily exact doppelganger in the Royal Park. Looking back now, it almost seems like I went entirely nocturnal for a while. I didn’t, but all I really remember is a general impression of a lot of going out and a lot of getting fucked up.

Mired in a self-imposed head-fug, and party, party, partying like there was no tomorrow – despite being on a DHSS budget. Natural light was a phenomena experienced only rarely as I stumbled out of some disused supermarket in Hyde Park or student cellar in Burley, blinking and giggling and dancing to the music in my own head in the warm, bright, early morning sunshine.

It was all about signing on, skinning up and chilling out. Rocky, squidgy black, a bit of homegrown when there was nothing else. Pretty much all day. I was doing a bit of writing for local lefty news and what’s on mag, the Leeds Other Paper – think a more radical version of Time Out – and even the NME, occasionally, but mostly making plans for projects that never seemed to happen.

Making cups of tea. Skinning up. Playing with the cat. Listening to music. Chatting shit. And repeat. Ad infinitum.

It was around this time that Leeds indie poppers the Hollowmen released an album with a cover that was made up to be a variety pack of blotter acid – purple ohms, Gorbachevs, peace symbols, Mickey Mouses, smiley faces, Popeyes, take your pick. I’d been into all that malarkey for a long time before acid house came along and it tickled me no end.

A freebie local what’s on mag used to sell the front cover as an ad and this month they’d got the Hollowmen album cover on the front. It’s a measure of how much time I had on my hands that I pasted a sheet of white paper to the back of a couple of mag covers and carefully cut out the individual fake-trips, sorted them into little piles of Mr Spocks, red indians, sunflowers etc and then stuck them in separate envelopes.

The idea was I’d just randomly give them to mates, and that would somehow be amusing. All I can say in my defence was that I was doing a lot of real drugs at the time and probably not at my most together. Dallas, who was working behind the bar at the Duchess of York, was one of the lucky recipients of my fake-largesse. He told me later that he’d flogged a load of this faux acid to Blur after a gig there.

He ended up taking them to the Phoenix in Chapeltown where they’d sat around looking glum and asking if they could get some speed from somewhere “because this acid isn’t working”.

Eventually, Doug and Rachel decided that I was too much of a liability for them to carry any longer and ejected me from the premises, as kindly and gently as they could under the circumstances – I was a lazy and untidy full-time stoner who was prone to sarcasm and showed no intention of ever getting a proper job or re-engaging with normal, mainstream society or just generally getting myself together. I still had an unrealistically high opinion of myself, obviously.

Out of sheer desperation, at the suggestion of a Peruvian student girl I’d unsuccessfully pursued, I ended up living in a tiny room in the cellar of a big old four-storey house in Woodhouse. My housemates were all students, most of whom were studying at Leeds College of Music. Sadly, I never got to shag any of the girls, or their friends, as I imagined I would. I don’t think I got to shag anyone, for quite some time.

I kept myself occupied with house music – despite having no decks or the means to buy any – DJing at parties in student cellars in Hyde Park, doing the singularly unsuccessful VLF nights with Jez (pictured) at the 1in12 in Bradford. We even did a few gigs with Chumbawamba, including a very strange evening with the Wedding Present at the university.

We decided to form a collective with a load of other people as it was too difficult doing it with just our own meager resources. Jez, a bit of a trip-head in his time, came up with the name of Microdot. We gathered together our co-conspirators, many of whom I’d never met before that night officer, in the kitchen of Jez’s homely end-of-terrace squat on Burchett Grove.

There was Brandon, a charming ‘outside agitator’ from the wrong side of the Pennines who’d introduced me to the joys of acid house in the first place (and ended up self-publishing pamphlets denouncing Chumbawamba) and Dallas, ladies man and photographer, who I first met in Darlington five years before. He’d moved to Leeds and started up the Flame In Hand collective with Becky, Sara and Nick (last I heard Dallas was working for National Express).

There was also Gill, vivacious flame-haired Chinese student and Fat Freddie’s waitress with whom I ended up having a spectacularly ill-advised liaison, and cute, wasted Rob, who was working his way through Leeds’s tiny gay scene with gusto.

Jon (pictured), a naïve young lad fresh from the travelling scene. Mikey, the amiable former guitarist in Bastard (LS6’s answer to Hawkwind) who was fast gaining an appreciation for dance music. And Mark, a rather confrontational motor mouth folk musician from Blackburn.

Plus Jez and me – the straightest gay man and the gayest straight man you’ve ever met in your life.

If memory serves, our first Microdot production was a party in a disused corner shop, just down the road from Hyde Park Picture House. Typically, Jez had wanted to hire a ton of really expensive lights, golden scans, strobes, maybe even a fucking laser. In the end we made do with a smoke machine and a single strobe.

We got quite a crowd in and it went on until six or seven in the morning, with a couple of visits from the cops but nothing to worry about too much. Jez told me afterwards that he’d had to go down into the cellar a couple of times to shore up the dancefloor – which was bouncing up and down in a fairly alarming fashion – with whatever old bits of crap he could find down there. It was, quite literally, an accident waiting to happen.

A few months later, we graduated onto a full-on multi-media experience by getting a load of old televisions, sticking them on tables and playing slightly trippy fractal videos taped from Horizon at the West Indian Centre. We may have even borrowed an old oil projector and projected stuff onto white sheets.

Despite my misgivings, we opted to concentrate on the ravetastic techno starting to come out of Europe on labels like R&S and Music Man. People who’d been into punk and metal always seemed to gravitate towards the heavier, harder stuff. Same kind of dynamic, I suppose, energetic, often not exactly the most subtle or complex music you could ever hear – and almost tailor-made for people who didn’t really now how to dance.

Superstar DJ

We did the first Microdot party for free, got a big crowd in and just banged out all this wacko electronica. What the little old men playing dominos on the other side of the bar thought of it all, we can only guess.

It was all a bit chaotic and messy, and not necessarily in a bad way. Having said that, I don’t think we had anyone on the door, so towards the end of the night, a few local kids steamed through the lobby and one girl had her handbag swiped.

I was just hopeless at mixing stuff at first. I didn’t have decks, I had the oldest, shittest, literally held-together-by-cellotape headphone (singular) you’ve ever seen. I had a few records but I was never particularly discerning in my purchases, both in terms of genre and, I’m afraid, quality. I liked mad old acid and newer techno stuff but I didn’t have that much of it and it was never all I wanted to play anyway.

I usually ended up with earlier slots because I preferred playing slower stuff, not sticking to one groove – which was probably just as well.

At more or less the same time, I met a mate of this rich-kid college drop-out from Clitheroe who lived in the attic of my student house – and who would eventually go onto to nick a large part of my reggae collection. While the pair of them had ridiculously broad, daft sing-song East Lancashire accents and affected an air of roguish working class bonhomie, ultimately it became clear that they were just middle class kids slumming it for a bit.

Anyway, this guy was going to a night called Audacity at the Phoenix, the new name given to Cosmo’s when it reopened after the first unfortunate incident of arson. I tagged along.

Audacity opened up a very different side of Chapeltown to me. Even with the Microdot parties, it wasn’t an area I spent a lot of time in. I used to go to gigs at the Trades Club and the West Indian Centre, and occasionally attempted to buy pot in the car park of the Hayfield further up Chapletown Road (some likely lad once sold me and Garbage a sixteenth of car bodyfiller for a fiver. How we laughed) but that was about it.

I met local kids like Adam, Aaron, Nicky, Justin, Leafy, Corby and JJ on the dancefloor at the Phoenix, as well as Billy and various sisters, and all manner of crazed oddballs from the other side of the Pennines – Mick Ventolin, the legendary Steady Eddie of Hardcore Uproar infamy. And the poshest man I’d ever met, Tuhin, rocking out like a Bangladeshi Bez.

Once, after yet another poorly attended but fun Thursday night – featuring Drew, now minus his platform heels, Shack from Monroe’s in Great Harwood, Graham Dixon from Ilkley and an up and coming DJ named ‘Cockney’ Rob Tissera – I met a bunch of smart, funny, leathered lads from Wakefield. Dave Beer, Mickey and a very sleepy Huggy were accompanied by an airline hostess, which was amazing enough but this girl, a mate of theirs, pulled out some excellent weed she’d brought over from far off, exotic climes.

I was tremendously impressed with all of this.

Eventually, on the couch at Drew and Adam’s another Friday morning, I met a woman, who despite having a few problems of her own, was sufficiently together to provide a degree of understanding and support. I did my best to reciprocate.

Suddenly, subsidised by my obliging lady, it became all about cheeky halves and double drops, getting on a mission, getting on one and getting loved up. We were in the middle of a veritable pharmacopoeia of New Yorkers, Doves, Disco Biscuits, yellow and purple Rhubarb & Custards, red and black Dennis the Menaces (legend has it that someone once opened one of them up to find a bit of speed and a tab of acid), nasty, corrosive, wet speed that really did taste like it had been made in someone’s bathtub.

We went over the Ossett for the second or third night at the Orbit. All I can remember of the night is a long, thin venue just rammed to the rafters with a seething mass of humanity piling up against the stage like a succession of wobbly, gurning, sweaty waves. Rave waves?

There was a live PA that was either the Prodigy or Dream Frequency, I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell you whether this was the very first night I heard Charly by the Prodigy but either way, I associate the night with the tune.

Charly was big and bold, rough and ready and resolutely unpolished and unsophisticated, but it fitted the mood of the times perfectly.

Essentially a collage of sound made up of bits and pieces of other records – heavily disguised, mostly – shuffling, pounding breakbeats from Radio Babylon (also used to great effect by Future Sound of London) and Helter Skelter by Meat Beat Manifesto, Hi, I’m Chuckie (Wanna Play?) by Stu Allen’s 150 Volts project and the pervy Juno alpha hoover synth sound recently debuted by Joey Beltram and Mundo Muzique on Mentasm: Second Phase, Charly was topped with a vocal hook snatched from an old Seventies public information film (voiced by Kenny Everett):

“Charly says, always tell your mummy before you go off somewhere.”

“I thought it was so hilarious”, Liam Howlett has said of the infamous sample which supposedly kick-started the era of ‘kiddie-rave’. “It was the bollocks. I thought that if I put that to a really hard sound it would result in something totally new.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was a big fan of the whole of the Prodigy’s second EP for XL Recordings, but it was the Alley Cat mix that really got me going. The idea that music as raw and deranged and leftfield, as unashamedly druggy and daft as Charly could get to number three in the pop charts was a measure of how big the scene had suddenly become.

I started playing a bit of hardcore at Microdot, including Charly, and I always felt like I was letting the side down a bit. As ecstasy became more and more of a feature, hard and fast acid and techno became less and less of a big deal, to be replaced by songs, you know, vocals, pianos, melodies, soul. Well, y’know, rave music. What could I do? I was on the Love Boat.

I left Charly behind when I moved house a few years later and only got it again recently, from Vinyl Exchange for 15 quid. It still sounds truly out there. It’s a mad, mad tune. The other stuff on the EP, even the “massively sought-after piano rave-anthem Your Love”, I can take or leave, to be honest. They sound a little bit dated to these ears. But Charly remains, I’d say, one of the classics of the genre.

There was some club night on at the Music Box in Manchester a couple of years ago featuring a Microdot reunion with Jon (who’s gone onto a career as a producer of some note with Mikey) and Mark EG, who we had guesting at a few events. I was going to turn up and I dunno, stage a protest or at least demand a cut of their fee and access to their enormous DJ stash – but something else came up.

I’m only messing about. I’m not that bothered, really.

It would be good if someone made some money from Microdot, somehow, somewhere, some time.

But please remember I am also available for bookings too, at very reasonable rates .. And I can even mix properly these days, after a fashion. Bonus.

See also: Trip II The Moon by Acen, Bad Girl by Bad Girl, Some Justice by Urban Shakedown and 2009 pirate radio feature

[Excellent vintage rave photography courtesy of Dallas]


Filed under hardcore / rave, hip replacement

40 responses to “Charly by the Prodigy (XL Recordings)

  1. I remember Microdot as coming after Audacity…quite a bit after (well, a few months…maybe?). I don’t think there was any Microdot before I met you…I think that all came later. But it is all a bit blurred.
    Wasn’t anyone taking notes!

  2. Don’t remember the bag thing.
    But I do remember you all setting up Microdot. I don’t think you even knew Robert when I met you. You had just done a thing called Smile with Jez (or someone). Hadn’t you?
    I might be wrong though. And it doesn’t really matter after all this time.

  3. undeleted

    Really? Has the chronology got that scrambled in my head? Crikey. It’s frightening, isn’t it?

    And absolutely, it’s a damn shame nobody took notes.

    Btw, email incoming this evening.

  4. undeleted

    You know what Foxy, you might be right. Wasn’t it Iain’s ex who got her bag nicked?


  5. undeleted

    Good grief. Yes, we did do something called Smile, somewhere or other. And Rob may well have come onboard later. Bloody hell.

    Oh, I’ll sort it all out later in the week. Got to catch up on my correspondence. But thanks for letting me know!


  6. Jez


    *How* do you remember all this stuff??


  7. A good read that, i remember going to an early microdot night at the warehouse, i think it was on a thursday night??? It must have been before the dream fm days too because Rob Owlsley (amazed i remembered the surname after all this time!) came and played a couple of times on a radio station i had at the time. Your blogs about the old days always make me smile, its written exactly how i remember things used to be :-)

  8. undeleted

    How do I remember all this stuff? In a very patchy and confused way, clearly.

    Feel free to add more detail Jez, whenever you’re ready .. hopefully, if enough people get on it, maybe we’ll arrive at some approximate version of the truth one day.

    Good to hear from you again!

    Thanks very much Shock, I try my best to represent all this stuff properly. Nice to hear I’m saying the right things.

    I think that night you went to was an Interface night, which was actually some time after Microdot. Could be wrong though. Chronology isn’t my strong suit (see above) ..

  9. Chris

    I’ve still got a load of those Hollowmen Trips in a little bag somewhere. I spent hours cutting up a poster that was filled with them. Ahh the joys of drugs.

  10. Jo

    Good work as usual Mr Undeleted, I don’t know why you don’t write a book about all your experiences, I know I’d buy a copy.

    I’ve got a tape of a Microdot night with Jay Reiss, not sure if it’s the real Microdot as you don’t mention him anywhere. It’s still good though, Techno on one side and real Trance on tother (not like the crap Trance that’s around now).

    I have to say I agree with Shock on this one, for a change :). Every blog I’ve read so far reminds me of how it used to be, it always brings a smile to my face too.

    A lot of people say if they could go back they would change this & that, but I wouldn’t change a thing, not a thing, good times.

    Keep them coming and I look forward to your article in May.

    Speak soon, Jo xx

  11. Jo

    Well there you go just shows you what I know, when I finally get round to copying it onto mp3 i’ll email you the link.

    As for Chris he’s never been an adult he he ;)


  12. undeleted

    Thanks Jo, you’re very kind. I probably would write a book if someone gave me a ridiculous amount of money. I won’t be holding my breath for it though.

    It seems like you have a genuine Microdot tape there, Jez was also known as Jay Reiss. Glad to hear his stuff is still sounding good.

    And as for you Chris, you’re as daft as I am. And you were supposed to be an adult!

    Big love ..

  13. undeleted

    Pretty much all of us had made-up names, come to think of it. Robert took his name from the chemist who manufactured most of the acid that turned on America in the Sixties.

    Link me up when you can.

  14. Excellent article- More soon please..

  15. undeleted

    Thanks very much. Your wish is my command etc.

  16. Great article! I lived in Leeds ’92-’96 (student) – don’t remember any Microdot parties (possibly I was a year or so too late by the sounds of it?), but I did go to a few Smile nights over in Bradford, probably ’94-’95ish. Would that be the same Smile you were involved with? A guy called Chris Harrison, and another guy Ben were involved in organising it… ring any bells?

  17. undeleted

    Hello the Double K. I’m embarassed to admit I can’t actually remember when or where we did Smile. I think it was in Bradford.

    Besides myself and Jez, there was nobody else involved. I think it was before we hooked up with the other people who did Microdot.

    Certainly don’t recall the guys you mention. I think it was probably another night named Smile. There were probably a few.

    Glad you’re into the piece. There are a few Dream FM-related pieces around in the hardcore /rave bit. You might like.

  18. Oi Undeleted yer cheeky fecker… I never worked for National Express…. makes me sound like a bleedin’ bus driver! Actually, I became a graphic designer/photographer and then buggered off around the world…. hmmm, that sounds much more like the international playboy I really am! Good writing as always tho’… sweet memories! I have some great shots of all those boozers, losers and substance abusers you mention (including you) get them posted! You may have been a classic Northern git (not unlike myself) but you were always honest and true, rare qualities then and now. Manlove to ya. D

  19. undeleted

    Dallas! Just like the proverbial bad penny ..

    Great to hear from you man. Are you back in Leeds again then? We must meet up for booze etc, next time I’m in that neck of the woods.

    I’m not sure the world is ready for pictures of the Microdot crew to be honest. But have you seen the picture on the Antisect interview? You did that!

    Will mail you later on today.

  20. johnn

    top read that.
    think i recognise some names here,sarah and nik once of ‘punk’ band generic?
    is that jez,mate of paul who liked to drive big trucks and a massive lufc fan?once challenged a gang of crusties in a big house on the edge of the of the penines to a game of footy but we never got it together?

  21. undeleted

    Sarah and Nick were indeed in Generic, well spotted Johnn.

    Jez liked to drive big trucks but he was in no way a LUFC fan, it sounds more like Zippy to me, who at one point lived in the same house as Jez, Nick and Sarah. Zippy really was a proper mad Leeds Utd fan – and a very nice man too.

    Can’t help with your anarcho football match on the Pennines I’m afraid …

  22. johnn

    sure it was jez,mates with scottish anthony?
    was with them when we ‘stopped’ some nazis selling their papers one st.georges day in Leeds city centre,new model army played an outdoor gig down near the town hall on the same day,might have been wrong about him being a leeds fan tho,sarah,jez and paul used to visit us all over in stalybridge pretty regular.memories………as the song says…….

  23. undeleted

    Fuck knows Johnn, I don’t remember Jez being mates with a guy called Anthony, Scottish or otherwise, but I could be wrong. There were a few people in that Leeds squatting scene I didn’t know too well. Some of them come around these parts occasionally, so they’re probably your best bet.

    I did however go to that same New Model Army gig!

  24. Brilliant blog … must have brought back loads of memories for people … well those ones we can actually remember … the odd or two …

  25. undeleted

    Thanking you Teleskopik Recordings, you are very kind.

    Glad you like the blog. Stayed tuned .. more shit to come!

  26. Scotty

    Brilliant. I knew Leafy, Rob and Tony Walker from the Trades, which to me, is still the kick ass club that ever was.. Great memories relived…

  27. Cheers Scotty. More old raving stuff coming up today ..

  28. prestonbob

    I love the fact that you lads called rob tissera cockney rob! blackburn lads called him that,he hated it!..the promoters of his first gig in preston(which we got him)rang us and asked what he was called,cockney rob was the answer..we laughed and laughed and laughed when we saw the poster all over the cockney rob in the area!

  29. Hahaha, I think that’s how he was first introduced to me, Cockney Rob! Isn’t Rob from Kent or Hertfordshire or something? Definitely not within the sound of Bow Bells anyway. I can imagine it would wind him up ..

  30. prestonbob

    Worse!..Milton Keynes!..even worse than that he was a bass playing porsche salesman!…i lurve cockney rob!

  31. Jon

    You’re half right. Audacity was a couple of months before Microdot, although the two nights can’t be compared.
    Audacity was more like a disco than a rave.
    Microdot was as Acid House as the North of England got at the time.

  32. Alice Nutter

    I have your early photo albums… I think that I also have a little box of singles you left but I’m not sure about that. While you were forgetting things I was remembering and dragging a bit of your life round with me

  33. Richb303

    I (hazily) remember the following about the microdot scene…..Rob and his wooden E he used to wear around his neck, Me an Jez sitting for hours in the house in woodhouse (can’t remember the name of the street) mixing up the latest Djax & Music man releases, DJ’ing with Jon Nuccle on Dream FM in little London (still got the tape!) and the numerous trips to Orbit!! Good times, never to be repeated or replaced….

  34. jon

    no, there was almost no time passed between Microdot and Microdot presents Interface…

  35. Pingback: Microdot 8 Mixtape

  36. Amy

    Ah microdot. Wonderful, crazy, hazy days. Stumbing about in ridiculous silver heels and a swimsuit. I think I was 16. Would end up in a blues bar if I got kicked out of the West Indian Centre.

    Would love to know what the genre of music it was. Go to trance nights now it’s nothing like. Was it piano acid house? Is that a thing? Is there a link available to anything I can listen to now? Or pictures of the events at WIC?

  37. Hello Amy,

    I’m sorry, I’ve only just seen this comment for some reason.

    So you’re the girl in the silver heels and swimsuit! Can’t remember too much about those nights but I remember them being fun. Crackers, but fun.

    Charly is breakbeat hardcore but I was also playing things like Rabbit City 3, Hackney Hardcore and Criminal Minds, as well as a bit R&S techno. Everyone else was playing a mixture of old Chicago acid and Detroit techno and newer European techno on labels like R&S and Music Man. Actually, Rob always played breaks at some point, Jez had a thing for mixing old acid records with disco, and when Jon started he was straight onto the acid techno thing. I think. It’s all a bit hazy, as you say.

    I don’t think there are any pictures apart from those two or three above. There’s a nice picture of Jez and Chrissie here

    I think there may be tapes knocking around from when there was a Microdot show on Dream FM. Did you ever listen to Dream FM?

    Thanks again for the comment Amy.

  38. Amy

    Cheers for that list undeleted. You guys created my music tastes from then until now, never found anything quite the same in clubbing life. I’m in London now and it’s quite a polished scene, apart from some cool free parties. But then, everything is more polished now, as the article you linked mentions.
    I didn’t listen, no. I was either asleep or at a rave or gig in those days!

  39. I wrote a thing about a party in Chapletown that must’ve been around the same time. You might recognise the vibe.

  40. Pingback: More hardcore in Leeds - 88to98

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