China Crisis
Ian Cranna investigates yet another Merseyside challenge
Smash Hits Magazine July 22-August 4, 1982
©EMAP National Publications Ltd Peterborough

(LtoR): Eddie Lundon, Dave Reilly & Gary Daly

If laughter is indeed the best medicine, then China Crisis must be in a supremely healthy state. With at least their fair share of dry wit and an equally pleasing lack of ego, this up and coming talented trio laugh at themselves, their mistakes on stage and the stereotypes of rock’n’roll.

Not that all the laughter means they don’t take making music seriously, it’s just that with a fine disregard for the form book China Crisis prefer such simple pleasures as driving their own equipment truck, taking Polaroids of their audiences and leading unsuspecting interviewers up the garden path. An interview? Keyboard player Gary Daly and drummer Dave Reilly leap at the chance to parody:

"So, Gary, why do you change your lyrics when you sing them live?"

"Well basically, Dave, I can’t remember ‘em."

"Why do you play different keyboards live?"

"Well, Dave, can’t remember ‘em."

The beginnings of China Crisis lie in Kirkby, a new town just outside Liverpool, and in a school friendship formed by Gary and guitarist Eddie Lundon around similar musical tastes. Unimpressed by rock and various romantic attempts to revive it in nearby Liverpool, the pair developed instead a healthy regard for the musical ideas of David Bowie, Stevie Wonder and Eno.

Leaving school with little or no qualifications and equally fed up after experimenting with local pop bands, the duo retired to their bedrooms with their instruments and a shared tape recorder. Where Echo, Wah!, and the Teardrops became famous for their socializing, China Crisis stayed at home and experimented with electronics.

"People put it down but it’s only a preference," says Gary. "If you want to be a group and you go and play in some big hall, that’s fine. But if you want to buy a load of equipment and sit there in your room, that’s another fine."

When they started out, China Crisis had no drums, no singer and no plans to play live. They didn’t even have a name come to that, but they did discover a passion for writing, producing what Eddie calls "mood music" and Gary calls "slow and weird." But something was missing.

"We said yeah - let’s spark up the old songs here and we got a drum machine," continues Gary. "Then we started conforming and putting four bars here and a chorus there, automatically. And the next thing we knew it was songs rather than pieces of music!"

Unusually China Crisis chose to compose not around guitar riffs or keyboard chord combinations but around drum machine patterns, building their melodies on these rhythmic foundations. But eventually Gary and Eddie outgrew the limitations of a drum machine and lured Dave Reilly, now the proud possessor of one of the country’s first electronic drum kits, into the fold from the financial security of a cabaret band.

Their first single "African And White" - easily the year’s most addictive record - first appeared on the Liverpool independent label Inevitable (also responsible for the early releases of Wah! And Dead Or Alive) before being snapped up by Virgin.

The record bubbled under the charts for many a long week and, even after the appearance of a follow-up "Scream Down At Me" (which illustrates the harder, electronic side of their music), continues to attract interest - hence its current re-release.

When it comes to discussing their music, however, the band becomes somewhat uneasy, equally unhappy with pat answers or labored explanations of what they do to communicate a certain feeling without having to spell it out. With "African And White" - written according to Gary (a Howard Devoto fan) at a time when he was hanging about with ex-students watching Panorama in a flat full of potted plants - the trio are even more wary for fear of being branded political sloganeers.

"Some of the things are so generally obvious," offers Eddie. "For instance, in ‘African And White’ some people think you’ve got a political view and you don’t have to. It’s just every day."

"It’s every day but you write a song about it and people say you’re political," agrees Dave. "But it’s not that you’re political, it’s just that it’s a view and it’s to be said. It’ll come into someone else’s line of speech during the day, so why not write a song about it?"

A suitable questioning note on which to end an introduction to the serious side of China Crisis. Now back to the more familiar smiles and the, er, interview:

"What would you do with a million pounds, Dave?"

"I’d give it to you, Gary."

"Ta..."

Haven’t we been this way before?