Hypnotised by The Undertones, 1987 reissue on Fame. A bit of a battle on the bus on the way home from school.

This is the one with the picture of Mickey Bradley and Billy Doherty on the front, resplendent in lobster-logoed bibs, enjoying a seafood meal in New York courtesy of Seymour Stein. Great Cover! How could you not buy this record? It was orange-y-red-y-sunshine-y-smiley and warm (and this is how I imagined the music would feel). I know what they say about books and covers but pre-internet, you sometimes just had to trust your instinct (and John Peel).

I was vaguely aware of the Derry Boys from the radio and Top of the Pops – but the clincher was seeing one of their final performances broadcast on UTV (this must have been around 1983). That was thrilling. A live tea-time show with Feargal Sharkey barking out lyrics in between drags on his cigarette; an unexpected and welcome break from the surreally grim local news of the time. That’s when I first understood the fierce beauty and intelligence of the Undertones – hugely underrated; not just songs about chocolate and girls. I logged it in the punk memory bank, on standby to guide me outside of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal compound – when I was ready.

So, cut to 1987. The Undertones have long since disbanded. But thanks to John Peel, some older cousins, and a lot of time spent in Belfast record shops, I’m a bit more clued up about what happened on the local scene a few years earlier. And now I see this warm glow highlighting the rack – I can’t remember in which shop but it was probably Makin’ Tracks or Caroline Music. I’m in after school, just browsing. I’m not looking for it; it kind of finds me.

I hold it, scan it, recognise one of the songs – “My Perfect Cousin”. This is going home with me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s educational.

These old eighties reissues get a lot of criticism from snobby vinyl collectors – but the reality is the Fame series (and others like them) gave me access to great albums whose first presses were long sold out (and this before any proper second-hand markets existed; well, apart from the dodgy knock-offs around Smithfield, more of which another time…) – so I love shit eighties reissues!

Before we hop on the bus, let’s take a wee detour and jump ahead in the timeline to later that evening. I’m blasting out the record and singing along to the title track – how joyous and simple: “H-Y-P I’m Hypnotised…!” I love it; warm, raspy guitars, with a big playful tumble down into the chorus. The self-aware “More Songs About Chocolate and Girls”; the (top ten hit) single “My Perfect Cousin” (if you’re of a certain age and ever played Subbuteo, you’ll get the poignancy of this track); the charming, Brothers-O’Neill-crafted tunes of “See That Girl”, “Tearproof” and “Wednesday Week”. There are hints at some of the edginess and sophistication to come in their later stuff – but for now, it was ok to just be young and in and out of love. It was a game-changer for me: guitars with tunes! Sense and sensitivity! It was like discovering a new species. I’m ready; lead on.

So I’m getting on the bus, dangling my record bag. This usually invites the question “what’s the record?”, so I’m expecting it and I’m excited to share. A boy I know (but who I’m not really friends with) asks the expected question. So I tell him and I show him. He takes it, handles it like evidence and then deigns to lecture me about my choices (of records and in life generally): “You know they’re Provos? You support terrorists?”

There was a lot to process there in a split second but I managed a quick rebuff, incorporating a staunch defence of both The Undertones (with whom I’m barely aquainted) and myself. Now, I’ll freely admit that, at sixteen years old, I was still feeling my way around the realities of The Big Bad World Outside. But I suddenly knew enough to be sure about a few things (let’s make a quick list):

1. Music was the solution; not the problem;
2. The environments we find ourselves born into are far more complex than my reductive non-friend would ever care to admit – and that goes for everyone, including you, me and The Undertones;
3. I listened; my non-friend would never listen and that would be his loss.

I was affronted. But I smiled – because I was happy with my choice. Another lad seated across the aisle caught my eye and gently nodded his approval – “Good album” he said quietly. Beautiful.