***The High Llamas’ classic '90s output comes back to life on vinyl for the first time in over twenty years. The vibrant and colorful sweep of this remarkable six-album arc shines in new pressings of the original masters, which include the first-ever vinyl pressing for their debut album, Santa Barbara.
In 1990, Sean O’Hagan was emerging from a high-flying eight year run with Microdisney. The Clock Comes Down the Stairs was a UK Indie #1 in 1985—and today, it is considered by many to be the greatest album in the annals of Irish rock and roll. But they disbanded in ’89, and for Sean, this meant finding a voice—no longer writing with “one of the great lyricists and vocalists,” as he recalls his late Microdisney partner Cathal Coughlan, he was challenged to see a path forward as singer and lyricist as well as composer and arranger. This challenge led to the emergence of one of the most unique new sounds of the 1990s.
The High Llamas were founded by Sean, Jon Fell, Marcus Holdaway and Rob Allum. After debuting as a tart and sweet guitar-pop act with a reasonably definable bent on Santa Barbara, Sean fell in with Stereolab. His adventures in their art-band collective, playing space-age batchelor pad music, profoundly influenced the delightful extremities that were to come. Gideon Gaye was written and recorded on a small budget with almost military resolve. Shifting to a piano-based sound and obsessively chasing retro aspects of '60s and '70s production to dizzying new heights, The High Llamas put a marvelously austere frame around O’Hagan’s already-filmic song constructions. Light and accessible, the sound of Gideon Gaye gobsmacked grunge-soaked listeners with its new twist on classic art-pop design elements.
Looking for greater distribution, The High Llamas signed to V2—an arm of Universal—and next produced two widescreen epics for the 90s: Hawaii and Cold And Bouncy. Hawaii (1996) charted an alternative path to and through America, discovering fresh iterations of exotica, soundtrack expressionism and jazz, forming a singular conception of neo-Americana in its exquisite sweep. It was not simply gorgeous; it utterly elided any concept of aggro; this was hand-made, non-heavy music at a new level of purity. One year later, Cold And Bouncy delivered again, organically incorporating the glitch, dub and electronic inspirations burbling up from the underground into the Llamas signature sound. Respect here is due to co-producer Fulton Dingley’s contributions as programmer, engineer and mixer. Without shifting away from their pop-rooted songwriting, Cold And Bouncy was also a grand example of the emerging electro-exotica of the late 90s.
Following these releases, The High Llamas’ popularity was ascendant. They toured America in 1996–97, experiencing great heights on the indie charts, but without producing “hits” of the proportion that V2 required. O’Hagan’s arrangement skills were called upon by groups like Saint Etienne, Super Furry Animals, Doves and Sondre Lerche. A remix album was mooted—to reach another growing audience demo- graphic, perhaps? With Lollo Rosso (1998), the assembled remixers—Mouse On Mars, Jim O’Rourke, Kid Loco, Schneider TM, Stock, Hausen & Walkman, Cornelius and The High Llamas themselves—provided a scintillating trip through the cutting edge of avant electronics — yet another unique set of variations for the Llamas’ sound to filter though.
While this was happening, O’Hagan conceived another shift for the next album—a stripped-back sound, with lots of acoustic guitars, influenced by folk movements in Latin and world music. Stereolab’s Mary Hansen (forever remembered) and Laetitia Sadier were drafted in to sing vocals, and sessions were split between London and Chicago, where Jim O’Rourke and Bundy K. Brown engineered at Electrical Audio, and Tortoise’s John McEntire mixed it down at Soma. Snowbug was a lovely album, with great songs and sounds pirouetting away from the Hawaii / Cold & Bouncy phases with ease and elegance. It suffered the indignity of being released at the time that V2 had nothing more to offer to the band, and it passed under the radar as the Llamas passed out the door. Reissuing Snowbug for the 21st-century listeners is one of our great pleasures in this reissue campaign.
