The Chills – Submarine Bells

Fire (Europe) / Flying Nun (Australia and New Zealand)

It is hard to believe that Martin Phillipps‘s Chills have been around in one iteration or another for the best part of forty years. Forming in 1980, it took them seven years to produce their debut album, having spent that time spinning the prototype of what loosely became referred to as the Dunedin Sound, centred around that city’s Flying Nun label. The interest that Brave Words generated, even here on the other side of the world, found them courted by bigger labels and for their second, the recently reissued Submarine Bells, they found themselves on London derivative, Slash.

That initial sound, a mix of late Velvets charm, rollercoaster tempo, Martin’s insouciant delivery and the love of words was further enhanced and polished up a little for Submarine Bells. By 1990, a whole host of players had passed through the ranks and the line-up (which lasted for a couple of years) that produced the album would see half of them leave by the year’s end.

It is a lovely album though, the simplicity of the songwriting allowing greater focus on the lyrics. The voice is hard to resist and is easy on the ear, with its bell-like tones and in places the female backing vocals add further succour. There is a chiming swing to the tracks, with hints of The Psychedelic Furs in the rolling rhythmic reveries of “Tied Up In Chain”, and “The Oncoming Day” rattles with a lightly polished punkiness. You can feel the roots here, but it has been made just that bit more palatable. The drums really drive this piece and the delicious bass chords do the same for “Part Past Part Fiction”.

The poetry really is given an opportunity to sparkle here. Gary Smith‘s production, though tidying things up, has allowed greater space for the vocals . They really shine on “Singing In My Sleep”, which with its pretty middle eight and surge of energy towards the end is the perfect framework. The guitar has a skeletal feel, a clean sound that suits the use of Celtic flute on “I Soar”, and generously shows the variety of the songs written and the panache with which they are delivered.

There is a hint of Felt in the garagey “Familiarity Breeds Contempt”, and there is something about the vibe of this track that suits the history of Slash, not sounding out of place with the likes of X of The Femmes, while the sad sea shanty ballad “Don’t Be-memory” has a hint of The Waterboys about it; its urgent tension utilising piano and acoustic guitar.

It is high time that Submarine Bells received a reissue on vinyl and fair play to Fire and Flying Nun for that. If nothing else, to have possibly their finest fuzz-pop moment and ironic commentary on success “Heavenly Pop Hit” back on the true format is worth the admission price alone. Timeless.

-Mr Olivetti-