Due to its 1960s-influenced sound, reminiscent of the British Invasion era in contrast to many other alternative acts of the early 1990s, the album attracted substantial critical attention. The La's is widely considered to be a precursor to the Britpop phenomenon of the mid-1990s. Despite only being a moderate hit in the UK at the time of its release, reaching No. 30 in the UK Album Charts, The La's would prove a major reference point for many later acts, most notably the Britpop icons Oasis as well as later indie bands such as Arctic Monkeys and Fontaines D.C..
It was the late '80s inching into the '90s, and we were just about to emerge, bleary-eyed and spent, and there you have this band called The La's, with their distinct Byrds-and-Beatles vibe, were the antithesis of this '80s excess. So much so that they're often credited as the blueprint for Britpop, bringing back the raw, early rock ‘n’ roll sounds of a bygone era, but cleverly reimagined for the gritty and cynical ’90s.
Even thought that Lee Mavers in fact hated this so-influential album, despite it was critically well-received. Since then, the album has also amassed a cult fandom in the three-and-a half decades since its release, owing in large part to its pop earworm "There She Goes" and the many artists who never seem to tire of covering it.
The album was recorded and re-recorded numerous times, all driven by Mavers’ relentless perfectionism. Several different producers with impressive pedigrees tried and failed to capture the sound in Mavers' head, with his bandmates growing increasingly exasperated. At the end of this grueling process, the project had cost Go! Discs, the band’s record label, £1 million and yet Mavers still was nowhere near satisfied. So by 1990, the label decided it had had enough and released the most recent version produced by Steve Lillywhite. Mavers was incensed, and publicly and passionately discouraged fans from buying it.
The story of the La’s goes back to 1983, when a fledgling singer-songwriter named Mike Badger decided to start a band in his native Liverpool, settling on the name "The La's" to reflect Liverpudlian slang for "lads," as well as a beautiful, timeless melody—as in “la-la-la.” In 1984, he hooked up with fellow singer-guitarist Lee Mavers, who shared Badger's love of The Fall and Captain Beefheart. They started prolifically composing, and in 1986 recruited bassist John Power and drummer John Timson. Timson was soon replaced by Chris Sharrock. The La's began playing out constantly, packing in appreciative crowds at venues all over Liverpool.
Soon, they attracted the attention of various labels, eventually signing with Go! Discs in 1987. By this point, Badger had left the band, and was replaced by guitarist Paul Hemmings (later of the Lightning Seeds), with Mavers' brother Neil eventually taking over drums from Sharrock. Despite the many lineup changes, which might have contributed to Mavers' impending frustration with The La’s recorded sound, Mavers had a stable of songs the band had demoed much to his liking. During the remainder of the '80s, the La's released a couple of singles— "Way Out" which was praised immediately by Morrissey and the hypnotically sweet and spinning "There She Goes"—which only made fans hungry for more.
The La's went into the studio to record their debut album, but would soon discover that Mavers’ feverish attempts to maximize the magic of their demos would prove increasingly frustrating and futile. From 1987 to 1989, the band started and then abandoned sessions with respected producers John Porter, John Leckie, Bob Andrews, Mike Hedges and more. However, for a while the Hedges sessions seemed promising. Hedges and The La's recorded 35 songs together—enough for not one, but two albums. "The band were very positive, even Lee, until the last couple of days, thought it was going to be great," Hedges told The Guardian in 2008. "Everyone else thought it was the best thing they'd done."
It might have helped that Hedges had recently added to his studio a 1967 mixing console and a 1968 multitrack from Abbey Road, which is likely why Go! Discs had suggested the band work with him in the first place. But the album never reached the mixing console. Mavers had a falling out with drummer Chris Sharrock, which sparked an inexplicable desire to scrap the entire thing. Hedges believes Mavers was in the throes of a drug-induced psychosis.
The band soon had yet another personnel change, with guitarist Peter Cammell joining the lineup that would eventually record the final version of the album. The sixth producer to work on the album, Steve Lillywhite, who had produced U2. The problems were Lee had this vision for the album, but I don’' think he was that eloquent to explain the vision to anybody. And then he would fire the members of the band thinking they were the problem.After laying down the tracks, the band was sent back to Liverpool, Lillywhite finished the album, and Go! Discs promptly released it. Cue Mavers' rage and incendiary quotes about the snake with the broken back. "It must be one of the few albums in history where instead of the artist promoting the album, he demoted the album,” Lillywhite says. "People would go see them live and then listen to the album and say, ‘I don’t get it. This is a great album."
Ironically, the success of "There She Goes," widespread use in movies, TV shows, and commercials, has afforded Mavers economic stability, which has allowed him to continue perseverating on his obsession. "It's the best thing that's happened to Lee but also the worst," says former bandmate Mike Badger. "He wrote this perfect song, but it's meant he hasn’t had to do anything because he has a constant source of income." Despite now being an otherwise ordinary family man, Mavers has become so well known for his eccentricity surrounding The La’s—and his refusal to move on and record something new—that it even inspired a book, In Search of The La’s: A Secret Liverpool, where author MW Macefield tracks down the band and attempts to understand the whole weird psychology of it all.
The album opened with the jangly and percussive "Son Of A Gun," Next up was "I Can't Sleep," swaggering and Jagger-esque snarling, still, despite its up-tempo exuberance, the lyrics are tinged with dread and paranoia "Timeless Melody" is an ode to the beauty and power of music itself, and it seems to capture the unique power, and madness, of its place in Mavers' own mind. Meanwhile, "Liberty Ship" was a seafaring ditty that reminds me of '60s Britain's pirate-radio ships, both due to its very distinct retro '60s sound.
Then, the impecable and timeless "There She Goes" even though it's been covered literally everywhere. It's the glorious, effervescent feeling of being in love captured perfectly by music, without ever once edging into cheesiness. The dizzying, roller skating-in-circles feeling it evokes derives from its structure—a cyclical chorus, no verses, and a bridge. Although it’s been rumored to be about heroin, the band has denied this many times. It’s followed by the galloping "Doledrum," which captures the drudgery of being a working stiff with a head-bopping acoustic-guitar riff.
"Feelin" was a toe-tapping rocker with a dirty Beatles vibe, while "Way Out" was a suspenseful, darkly waltzing snapshot of an impending breakup, "Freedom Song" had a cheeky cabaret vibe, and the careening and "Failure" featured riotous guitars and a defiant strut in the face of tough luck. The album closes with "Looking Glass," which was a nearly eight-minute ballad that contemplates the complicated relationship between present and past and ended with a building, cacophonous patchwork of velvety psychedelia.
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