Friday, 4 October 2013

And God Created Manchester by Sarah Champion.

From the book 'And God Created Manchester' (1990)
by Sarah Champion.

Unlike South Manc band, World Of Twist, Northside weren't smart enough to understand complicated hallucinogenics.

Watching World Of Twist onstage is like staring into Lewis' window at Christmas. A frivolous box of chocolates, filled with exotic centres; a voyage on the Starship Enterprise; a trip to Disneyworld; a night-out at NASA; swimming in a skip of milk-bottle tops. World Of Twist were a Sheffield-born synth band that had been kicking around for years. When A&R reps packed Isadora's in March (1990), their set began behind a red satin curtain emblazoned with the camp proclamation welcome To Our Show Two gigs later, they'd signed to Circa Records.

Seeing World Of Twist at International 1 in August 90, was like seeing that first gig all over again. No-one tells you to drop out of school, form a band, have fun. No-one tells Kylie fans about 'indie' until it makes the charts. You find out by chance. Equally, you go on celebrating average Manc bands, unaware how much more is possible.

World Of Twist are not scally-sheep. They use their imagination. They are Manchester's greatest visual group. Huge rotating cigarette packets, enlargements of their own heads, oil-wheels, optic-fibre curtains, a six foot high ever-decreasing spiral. A hallucinogenic heaven of stage props straight out of an Inspector Gadget cartoon. Like Bond, World Of Twist probably carry lighters that let off tear gas, fountain pens that fire poisoned bullets and pocket-books that expand into full-size parachutes!

Not neglecting the music, World Of Twist combine so many unlikely moods. Imagine pouring Gladys Knight And The Pips, New Order, Syd Barrett, Chairman Of The Board, Phuture, 808 State into a cocktail shaker and jogging them till they all blend into one. Singing LSD without being blatant, they write about the tunnel of your mind, submarines and rainbows. Still too soon to draw any conclusions. As the last words of this book rushed to press, they were just cracking open their cocoon. We had yet to see their wings.

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