Formed by Bobby Wratten, Annemari Davies and Mark Dobson when their under-rated previous band The Field Mice split up in 1991, NORTHERN PICTURE LIBRARY'S output (one album, three singles) is merely a sonic sliver in historical terms.
Yet, it's a small, but largely perfectly-formed back catalogue worthy of rediscovery. And, in typically comprehensive LTM form, most of it's included here in this 72-minute re-issue of the band's sole studio album "Alaska" (1993), with their great companion EP "Song For The Dead Che" tagged on for historical resonance.
Long-time Wratten observers have tended towards the opinion that NPL was a temporary aberration in his career between The Field Mice and his equally lovelorn current band Trembling Blue Stars, but a critical contemporary ear cocked in the direction of "Alaska" makes you wonder why, as it's an intriguing, uncompromising listen, and was clearly a conscious attempt to move away from the widely-held - and sometimes erroneous - belief that The Field Mice were simply fey'n'jangly Sarah Records underachievers.
Wratten had been listening heavily to artists such as Brian Eno, Talk Talk and the ambient/ dance crossover prevalent at the time and certainly this gene pool is as important tothe birth of "Alaska" as the semi-acoustic melancholic guitar pop that Wratten is customarily aligned with. Indeed, songs like Annmari Davies' brittle "Insecure" find the likes of Loop and Slowdive lurking in the wings, while the amorphous, ambient drone of "Dreams & Stars & Sleep" is more in line with people like The Orb and DAC Crowell than any obvious indie pop staples. Meanwhile, the excellent closing "Monotone"'s expansively dubby, Spacemen 3-style soundscape takes it even further out: it's eight minutes stretching out into a manta-like infinity. Clearly ( "Frozen?") the pulsating final track from The Field Mice's swansong album "For Keeps" was no fluke.
Admittedly, the experimentalism doesn't always work. I don't really see the point of brief, somnambulent doodles such as "LSD Icing" or the foghorn burst of dissonance contained in "Glitter Spheres", while the ambient glide of "Into The Ether" is too inconsequential to connect. Mind you, it's easy to see why these curiously fragile and skewhiff set-pieces were anathema to the floppy-fringed Sarah Records diehards at the time: which was probably seen as a bonus by the band back then.
For all that, Wratten and co inevitably gave into their melodic instinct along the way, too, and these moments of weakness often supply "Alaska" with its' finest moments. "Lucky", for example, is warm, fragile, dub-like pop, caressed by Davies' enchantingly forlorn voice and some heartrending lyrics ("No more going away, no more being apart/ I'm longing for that day with all my heart"); "Truly Madly Deeply" is a crestfallen piano ballad as tender, resigned and diginfied as you like and "Catholic Easter Colours" marries Wratten's twin obsessions - ambient/ crossover and weepie indie songwriting - beautifully and emerging as gorgeous, longing pop full of unashamed romanticism when it emerges from its' Eno-ish cocoon.
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This being LTM, we also get all three songs from the band's co-inciding Vinyl Japan 12", "Love Song For The Dead Che." Of these, the title track (in parts 1 + 2 formats) is probably the strongest selection. An unlikely United States Of America cover, it features "Fools Gold"-style breakbeats, what sounds like a sample of a steam whistle and is typical of the indie/ dance crossover singles of the time. For all that, it's hauntingly atmospheric as well, and adds up to a worthwhile addition to this short-lived band's all-too-brief conribution to the wider scheme of things.
Sadly, the heartbreaking quality of most of Wratten's lyrics here proved only too prophetic. The collapse of his relationship with Davies during 1994 would effectively sunder NPL. Mark Dobson, too, had his share of problems. Severe depression exacerbated by a lethal cocktail of valium, prozac and alcohol would cause him to slash his arms while on an ill-fated French tour, and after NPL split up, he would also sever his own relationship. Who says creativity doesn't come at a price, eh?
Northern Picture Library had remarkably little ambition at the time ("It would be nice to make a living out of it, but not very probable" says Davies in the sleevenotes), save for maybe cutting themselves off from being The Field Mice all over again, but with "Alaska" they still left behind a brave and risk-embracing record that stands as an epitaph many bands would be green for. And surely that's reason enough for you to discover it for yourself, however long after the fact.
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