“… you’re either Gary Numan or The Human League.” (1) – a precise description of the first synth-pop generation at its peak. The clichés are still there – past and present, embracing the synthesiser beast, blame it on Kraftwerk or Giorgio Moroder to name a few, single-handedly providing the ideal platform for the electronic kindom come, pleasantly crowded with countless kling-klangs. Oh synthesiser – could there ever be a future (not just of pop music) without you? The present says it all – hi-tech gear is all and around, off and went, up and coming, people stand and stare into their tiny (fad) gadget screens, fascinated by the instant of the moment, but not reaching further than the very refrain. More like skipping to the next one. The internet – at the same time as Orwellian as it is endless fun, is the ultimate melting pot of lost and found information and its inevitable (information) wars. Without it, some treasure boxes would have remained next to impossible to even dream about being open. Times change and don’t seem to stop there just yet – fascinating, although communication is sadly at stake, experiencing both – a “breakdown” and countless versions of “Newspeak”.
Vice-Versa were one of the few late 70s experimental synth-pop groups that spoke of mass-consumerism in both terms; being challenged by it just as they were being disgusted by the very idea. Their 7” debut EP “Music 4” in mere 10 minutes demonstrates the rage against the dullness of the senses; “New Girls Neutrons” being the miniature attack on consumerist trends. Especially interesting about Vice-Versa’s stop-start lyricism is how they managed to express the very zeitgeist – the digital age at the time being this continuous retro-futuristic obsession that was still not fully realised or had materialised – but which was about to burst any second then after 1980 and the first fifteen minutes; “On your wrist you wore a digital watch, you checked the time but it seemed to have stopped.” This closing line to a catchy minimalist spoken-type song, reveals the fright of the forthcoming post-modern age. Things that either threaten to, or simply do spiral out of control – time especially, being portrayed as something we cannot capture by any means, let alone by up-to-date tech – except witness it constantly slipping away in the context of decay. “New Girls” serves as a description of instant youth, unaware of its aging process, as if distracted by new technologies. At the time, mini-skirts, icons, towerblocks, drugs and melting plastic were all put into the lyrics sheet for analysis – today, these are replaced by tablets, iPods and apps (the drugs and melting plastic haven’t changed much). The other side of the spectre displays the lack of emotional response – the banality of romance (“Then we kissed, the plot is b-movie…”), modern society portrayed as irreversibly automated. Even more menacing is the follower “Science Fact”, an ear-piercing glitchy song with the underlining claim of “danger pact”, which speaks of a far more serious and continuously present problem in the mind of the public – that of a nuclear war threat. Inspired by the Flixborough incident that occured in 1974, “Science Fact” explored the issue further, perfectly depicting split-second scenes from the heart of a chemical blast (“… blew out windows in a mile radius…” / “… A pregnant woman is about to take Thalidomide, she died later in a gas mains explosion”).
Around that time, songs about nuclear war happened to appear on the world’s pop-map – Young Marble Giants released “The Final Day”, while OMD explored the issue several times with each of their first three studio albums – the most notable of these was of course the top-ten hit “Enola Gay” which, like the Giants’ tiny anti-hit, juxtaposed a merry melody with the frightening subject matter of a nuclear aftermath. Around the same time as “Enola Gay”, there were “Bunker Soldiers” (off their 1980 s/t debut), plus one even more similar to Vice-Versa’s “Science Fact”, the equally frightening conclusion being “The New Stone Age” – the untypical opener to 1981’s “Architecture & Morality”, appearing in drastic contrast to predominantly pastoral electro-pop material from that album, with manic outcries – “So this is the goal, the aim of my life, this is the feeling they warned me about – oh my God, what have I done this time?” The hysteria in McCluckey’s voice, the accompanying, disorienting synths, the weird ‘flamenco’ guitar, and the Geiger-counter-like percussive pulse all serve to visualise the horrific warning of absolute annihilation. “Science Fact” in the form of a thin, sharp scalpel, comprises in a mere two minutes what can be viewed as one’s truly scary political agenda – here, the Kraftwerkian (consumer) friendly side of “Radio-activity” is faced with a far more realistic twist, rid of any (melodic) sentimentality. It was recorded and released five years away from a certain 1984 – the year societies were expected to collapse; in 1949, George Orwell predicted 1984 being the “year zero”, a time of total dystopia, those surviving the nuclear war ending up being alienated and exposed under constant surveillance, forbidden any emotional response, drenched in media fabrications and continuous wars. In reality, the Falklands War happened and showcased one in a row of perfect reflections of these predictions.
With “Science Fact”, Vice-Versa gave a frighteningly precise picture of a “Holocaust of catastrophic proportions” that was so brutally realistic in Mick Jackson’s 1984 faux-documentary/feature film masterpiece “Threads” – a story which, ironically enough, takes place in Sheffield, the industrial mecca, desolated and on the verge of mass-destruction due to many military target spots around the area. At the time, people had real issues to be worried about and Jackson’s assumption of a nuclear cataclysm was not without reason – some nineteen years prior to “Threads”, Peter Watkins directed “The War Game” – a what-if discourse on nuclear holocaust which without doubt inspired generations who were aware, and in fear, of the possibility; among them Mick Jackson and Vice-Versa took scientific assumptions, observations and their own conclusions, shaping up the sound and image for something as supposedly inevitable. “The War Game” was distributed by the BBC, but due to its brutally realistic content, the network hesitated to present it at the time in order to avoid panic and chaos. For the year 1965, it seems well-advanced and nowhere near naïve. And “Music 4” reviewed and communicated this feeling of uncertainty a whole decade later – as a personal discreet soundtrack, a warning of unrest on all levels, whether the cause is political, social, natural, scientific or plain military. “Riot Squad” is a fascinating resistance anthem providing the “freeze-frame” moment of guerilla self-training, while “Camille” concludes the whole EP with a beautiful throbbing pulse, accompanied by the almost-soothing melody, melancholic and repetitive, augmented by a random selection of tapes from interviews with various earthquake survivors. In total, “Music 4” is a stunning example of retro-futurism, carrying out fears of the very unknown future (think of one from H. G. Wells’ “The Time Machine”), for which there may still be hope – but just as with a large question mark.
Formed in 1977, Vice-Versa contributed to the first generation of punk in Sheffield. Not that it went smoothly; for most of their part in it, the initial trio of Stephen Singleton, Mark White and David Sydenham were either not taken seriously or were completely ridiculed and dismissed by most of the scene’s participants. Still, they willingly and enthusiastically provided when and where possible. In search of their perfect sound, Vice-Versa certainly looked up to their fellow Sheffielders, the living legends Cabaret Voltaire and to some extent to Clock DVA (whose Adi Newton in particular, was closely connected). Any resemblance with The Human League mk. I was less audible but formed the perfect balance between the avant-garde/anarchic leanings of the Cabs and DVA on one side and pop tendencies The League had towards the mainstream. In this era of possiblities and gaining popularity, Vice-Versa happen to have saved their essential sound imprisoned by a mere couple of official releases – the legacy being an enthusiastic excursion into the independent music market, challenging the competition with a very own sense of easthetics and textual wit. Vice-Versa already established Neutron Records in order to release and promote their own “Music 4” EP but soon found themselves helping out the exquisitely fertile underground scene of Sheffield, by putting out Robotnik’s cassette and another 4-track compilation EP – “1980: The First Fifteen Minutes” – which, besides Vice-Versa’s “Genetic Warfare”, also features Clock DVA, The Stunt Kites and I’m So Hollow, each commiting their music to vinyl for the first time.
In hindsight, the very EP sounds like a pleasantly mixed bag of punkish low-tech but that doesn’t affect nor undermine the very quality of these ideas; Clock DVA’s piece in particular being the strongest on the release – a frightening tale of war, the useless prospect of the economic circumstances that lead directly to utter waste of human life, the bitter shriek against degradation by the very participation in a conflict. Clock DVA were true visionaries, pulling inspiration from life’s absurdities, obsessions with technology and literary antiwork – with their own sense of aesthetics regarding words and image (de)collage (“A Clockwork Orange” and of course, Dada, being the most direct references). Their pattern undoubtedly stimulated Vice-Versa to explore and create their own terminology – “Genetic Warfare” being a scientific pop-review of the test tube’s dark side, analysing the god-complex (“Dr. Strangelove in a lab coat… – I saved the world”), including a cynical comment on the frightening mutation process in which “they’re breeding mice that look like men”, or the closing line that is pure Cronenberg by comparison (“I am the fly, I love my wife”). The Stunt Kites’ “Beautiful People” is a powerful, fully blooded punk piece with equally brutal comment on the society subservient to the rotting system antics – “All the beautiful people lulling us on their knee, the mentalities of people their personalities are weak…” / “The Commandant join the in-crowd, the commandant have a bitch!” This song honestly depicts generational frustration with the society’s mental poverty – the youth refusing to be blind, desperately kicking against the factors that imply “acceptability”. If there ever was a perfect equivalent to “White Riot”, then this is it – and more grandeur. “I Don’t Know”, the closing number on the EP by I’m So Hollow, is as every bit as psychotic and atonal but adorable mess speaking of isolation, inertia and life as one’s troublesome void (“Pulling the sheets up over my face, the only place I know I’l be safe, just can’t get up and stand the pace or face the human race…”/“Growing old is a thing of the past, you know from birth that you’ll never last…”). Both Neutron EPs gained a “Single of the week” tag respectively in the British music press.
Enthusiasm aside, the small independent record business soon proved frustrating – distribution channels such as The Cartel and Rough Trade slowly turned into talent hunting enterprises, which somehow left many small publishers disillusioned, among them Vice-Versa were no exception. Stephen Singleton explains in the 2001 documentary “Made In Sheffield” how the band had trouble selling their own records. All of a sudden, many people from the music underground scene found themselves facing the prospects of having to hand-fold, pack up and distribute the records themselves – which somehow left little space for concentrating on new ideas. In this chaos of administration, lack of mutual support and interest, and in the end, the inevitable – selectiveness and competition, things were destined to fall apart. Neville Brody, one of the post-punk generation’s most innovative graphic designers, encapsulated perfectly what went wrong in the independent music world; “If one struggle is between the head and the heart, ours was between major companies and independents. The whole independent record system had imploded due to a mixture of greed, lack of conviction, and inefficiency.” (2) The regular music market suddenly became aware and was ready to devour the new and many were tempted to try their luck and make a name for themselves. According to Martyn Ware – “Post-punk, they were looking for the next best thing, it was an explosion of acceptabilities with record companies” (3).
Come 1980 and the first fifteen minutes were well and truly over – the mainstream crossover proved to be very potent for some; in Vice-Versa’s case, they came up with a new sound and a new name – ABC. In their earlier interview with Andrew Darlington, they too had expressed disillusionment with the independent market, pointing out it became saturated with rubbish and labels becoming more and more selective. Vice-Versa wanted populism. After performing locally and to some extent internationally, slowly realising they have exhausted their form of synthesis, the group experienced a drastic shift in both, music and style. Of course this drastic shift didn’t happen overnight – David Sydenham, one of Vice-Versa’s original members left not long after the release of “Music 4”. For a short while, Singleton and White operated as a duo, then asking a friend Fiona Russell Powell to join in (Fiona became a journalist with The Face and was also briefly involved later with ABC during their mid-80s’ weird electro-cartoon episode “How To be a Zillionaire”). Finally Martin Fry, who previously interviewed Vice-Versa for his “Modern Drugs” fanzine, ended up joining them around the time prior to the release of “1980: The First Fifteen Minutes”. This new line-up produced a mail order-only cassette, entitled “8 Aspects of”. The sound audibly progressed into something more energetic (or in Mark White’s words – more dark, less erratic), shying away from the icy minimalism of their previous work. The nature of these new songs gave Vice-Versa motivation to explore their ideas further afield, questioning the synthesiser as their (only) weapon of choice. With commercial expansion upon synth-pop which at the time already reflected in the likes of Gary Numan and The Human League, plus a cast of many others (among them – Thomas Dolby, Depeche Mode, Blancmange, John Foxx or OMD to name a few), Vice-Versa reached their conclusion. Losing further interest in just synthesisers, they decided to ditch the whole thing and restart as ABC. For that, “8 Aspects” as such sadly suffered, leaving eight raw masterpiece tracks – “Democratic Dancebeat”, “Stilyagi”, “Eyes Of Christ”, “Jazz Drugs”, “Body Sculpture”, “Trapped In Celluloid”, “Artists At War” and “Idol” – to rest in hiss. A collection of rough studio diamonds – augmented by a characteristic percussive element, white noise and a pop-tendency; especially “Trapped In Celluloid” which was once described by the very group as their attempt at creating a radio-friendly disaster hit. Inspired by “The Towering Inferno” film story, the song encapsulates the situation from a perspective of an individual suddenly realising all the affinities of life disappearing right in front of him, within a matter of minutes. A “posthumous soundtrack” to the very film, it is inevitable to view it also within a real-life disaster context – for example, that of the 9/11 tragedy, ever since observed through a variety of conspiracy theories. “Idol”, deals with assassinations – “real icons” may also be adding to the mercenary context (“What if it’s six million dollars, what if he looks like Ché Guevarra?”). While discussing the cult of personality and sensationalism, the song took particular inspiration from the JFK story – one of the world’s most popular unsolved mysteries.Also interesting to note that The Human League’s “Seconds” might have been partially inspired by “Idol” – the line “… It took seconds of your time to take his life…” can be viewed as an interesting parallel to “His body shakes, his wife is crying…”
Only two songs from “8 Aspects of” survived in slightly remixed form on a proper 7” vinyl single – the aforementioned “Stilyagi” and “Eyes Of Christ”, released posthumously in 1980 by the obscure Rotterdam independent label Backstreet/Backlash (joining Vice-Versa to the catalogue of artists as diverse as Z’ev, Winston Tong, Suspect or Mentally Unfit). In their desire to change, Vice-Versa preserved the energy and the promise of a synth-band that started make things happen for them but chose to make it legendary instead; the songs keep the artificial intelligence intact – “Eyes Of Christ” with a dark religious touch, and “Stilyagi” saluting the Russian post-WWII fashion cult, as a strange mutant of Amii Stewart and Hit Parade (a notorious one-man synth band from Belfast). The opening heartbeat-like kick with fragmented snare-type percussive outbursts, underlying menacing bassline with occasional saxophone and Mark White’s powerful screams, all fitting in with the perfect social statement. “Dissident fraction, secret stylists, youth movement, rebel gang…” – a repetitive line characterising American Jazz-enthusiasts in Russia who were often targeted for their outsider attitude and individuality, unwilling to adapt into the collectiveness of the grey-ish Soviet society. “Stilyagi” translates loosely as “style hunters”, some of whom were also sentenced to prison due to their illegal distribution of Western music via the x-ray network (dubbed “Rock bones”, which somewhat happens to be the precursor of the later flexidisc format). Vice-Versa’s crucial moment of change happened during their stay in Rotterdam, on one of their prolongued tour dates; Mike Pickering, a longtime friend of the group (later of M People fame), invited Vice-Versa for a studio jam-session where some of the members switched their roles; White chose the guitar and Fry started singing improvisingly.
Realising the potential of this exchange, things happened fast and by 1981, ABC were born – a disco-funk quintet completely anew. The fruits of their new hard work proved substantial with the initial, rough version of “Tears Are Not Enough” (later re-appearing a bit polished on the group’s deserved masterpiece debut-album “The Lexicon Of Love”). At the time, ABC could still be viewed as flirting with the edgier funk lines of Clock DVA whom they so eagerly embraced (Martin Fry even considered joining DVA at one point as their lead singer, or so the rumour says). Of course, the closest by comparison, “The Lexicon Of Love” seems like a light mirror reflection of “Advantage” (“4ever 2gether” in particular) – but apart from that, ABC did accept the challenge of success and by 1982 they found themselves on a world map of pop-darlings with several top-ten hits under their wing (even Madonna heavily borrowed from “The Look Of Love”, creating her own hit “Holiday”). At this point, any attempt to search for their once more sinister and fascinatingly sterile, commuter attaché case twin brother that was Vice-Versa, seemed to have drifted further and further into obscurity. They kept Neutron Records though, adding a new slogan – “Purveyors of fine product”, continuing to pay attention to visual aesthetics (this time – more lush, less minimal). “The Lexicon Of Love” conceptually remains their strongest work – from A-Z, from the sleeve noir to the very music, attention paid to every detail. New girls neutrons disappeared with a splice of an atom, new boys in gold lamé suits re-appeared for deserved spotlight. Of course, along came the music industry and all the drawbacks of success – the quintet split up (originally Singleton, White and Fry, with Mark Lickley on bass and drummer David Robinson (replaced by Dave Palmer). A year after participating on the group’s 1983 follower “Beauty Stab”, Singleton too had left the band disillusioned with the direction they were taking at the time, leaving Fry and White to continue recording as ABC, reduced to a core-duo with numerous collaborators and assistants. Today, ABC is just Fry from the original line-up, continuing to release an occasional adult-pop record, but somehow mainly relying on the nostalgia circuit. White left earlier in the 90s, after the release of “Abracadabra”, focusing on his career as a reiki-master. Years away after his initial leave from ABC, Stephen Singleton re-appeared in the early 90s with a tiny label, Tove Corporation, focusing on the work of Bleep & Booster, a project he originally started with Dave Lewin. Their album “The World of Bleep & Booster” was co-released by London Records and comes along in a weird promotional package, which besides excellent music, features extras as diverse as crayons, a badge and a fortune-telling fish (among other things). It is also pleasantly close a reminder or even more so, a certain “sequel” to Neutron Records’ 1979 data pack. On the inner side of the Bleep & Booster album’s poster-spread, once again retro-futurism took place. Unlike Vice-Versa, Bleep & Booster were less menacing albeit they kept the melancholy and the rush cityscape feel, only with a friendlier tone of “tomorrow”. “Technotropolis” (a city that never sleeps) is a perfect antipod to “Trapped In Celluloid”, while “Genki” can be viewed as a more optimistic sequel to “Camille” (with subtle Blade Runner overtones). “Electro City” is an uncrowned anthem of Sheffield’s longlasting legacy (as opposed to Pulp’s more voyeuristic vision in “Sheffield: Sex City”), while one of the album’s cool highlights – “Wonder Of the World” makes a perfect “block opposite” to a certain “New Girls Neutrons” (“The beauty and the power, the shapes of things…”). During all these years, with the Internet still away a luxury in the early 2000s, any chance to eventually reach the ear with something as obscure as “Music 4” was next to impossible. Hardly, if anyone heard of them locally and of course, for the pleasure of statistics these days, a certain Discogs website reveals there are numerous bands that bear the very same name. The Vice-Versa from Sheffield, being on this list, appear under number 4 (simbolically, some might say), but the “lucky number” after all, refers mainly to the submission order. Of course, these days, nothing remains hidden under the radar and finally Vice-Versa became re-discovered in both terms – of their potent, expressive minimal synth-pop sound and that of collectors’ item availability…
In 2002, a perspective Dutch documentary film maker Eve Wood released “Made In Sheffield”, the very first introduction to long-gone/defunct groups that marked the era between 1977-1982. Principal focus of course, was on Cabaret Voltaire, 2.3, The Human League, Artery, Pulp and ABC – with never-before seen footage from local events (snippets though), such as The Now Soc, where all these groups and many of their peers, enthusiastically performed at the time, turning Sheffield into one of post-punk music’s brightest epicentres. From the vaults, finally a snippet or two of Vice-Versa’s music was revealed and ever since it turned into an obsession. While I grew up adoring The Human League and Heaven 17 alike, ever since I properly heard Vice-Versa, there is no doubt now they’re one of the personal synth-pop favourites, many cannot match. Their aesthetic of words and music to accompany personal views of social decay and futuristic uncertainty, is truly amazing and despite many ticking them off at the time, without doubt it is a vision all of their own (single-handedly informing the entire Warp Records generation ten years too early). They explored and exhausted the very synth in a way The Human League actually weren’t – like them, Vice-Versa were interested in the very electronic dance music, realised the potential and saw the opportunity, but avoided the clichés of “rock”, the compromising link which The Human League very quickly established; while both their early records, the all-electronic “Reproduction” and “Travelogue” are synth-pop classics, traces of blind ambition to morph into a proper synth-rock band of sorts were already there as many of these early songs sound easily translatable into the standard rock’n’roll format (ironically enough, The Human League did a cover version on the subject – picking on Gary Glitter’s “Rock’N’Roll”, despite their somewhat-purist statement of “Vocals and synthesisers only”, on the back cover of “Travelogue”). Meanwhile, “Made In Sheffield” also resurfaced on proper DVD with extras plus a stunning two-parts sequel “The Beat Is the Law”, and very probably thanks to Eve Wood alone, the worldwide interest (also helped by the electroclash boom) expanded in order to search out and save little treasures like Vice-Versa from collective oblivion. “Music 4”, “1980: The First Fifteen Minutes”, “8 Aspects of” and “Stilyagi/Eyes Of Christ” still do mainly survive via the second-hand network and occasional digital rips on the internet. Around the time of an early VHS release of “Made In Sheffield”, a proper release attempt almost came to fruition when a small label called Ninthwave Records showed interest and started officially announcing the CD release of Vice-Versa’s entire back-catalogue. Shortly afterwards, the news sadly remained frozen and later it was revealed the master tapes were impossible to track down, once again leaving this collection drifting unobtainable.
In 2013, again by complete surprise, through a variety of personal friends’ e-mails, it was suddenly revealed Vinyl On Demand are planning a release. The surprise was even greater when it was announced as a box-set – which, considering the group’s official catalogue only left a big question of how many unreleased studio tracks by Vice-Versa truly exist out there. Finally, after a considerable delay, the box set is out. No more-no less but a 4xLP+ treat for anyone remotely interested in this side of ABC, the sharp alphabet soup with a recipe twist – the Electrogenesis made of originals and never-before heard versions. How do they make it happen is an interesting question in itself, but VOD already put out an impressive box set of the earliest Clock DVA material available. Not that they’re alone in their research. Ten years ago, The Future – an early incarnation of both, DVA and The Human League, also shared compact disc space with The League’s very own early experiments surviving years of the jetpacks, and the resulting compilation “The Golden Hour of The Future” (released around 2002 via the Black Melody label) is also worth every ear-splitting second. In that respect, it is evident Vice-Versa worked just as hard, explored and recorded far more material from what they officially made available through their small, impressive catalogue. One tiny proof is this brilliant, odd two-minuter called “Chainsaw Pop” (which is even mentioned in the context of presentation via the group’s correspondence cards enclosed with the “1980: The First Fifteen Minutes” EP). The only other “official” song I’ve read about but never heard is the legendary “Modern As In Mary Quant”, which, as is now witnessed, survived only in live-recording form.
Stephen Singleton and Mark White kindly agreed that Small Doses provide a suitable audio accompaniment with the 6th volume, celebrating the release of the box-set via Vinyl On Demand – in the form of two exclusive readymades of now classic Vice-Versa obscurities – “Trapped In Celluloid” and “Stilyagi”. The initial idea was that these versions be presented as “remixes”, credited to Vice-Versa – but Stephen and Mark kindly insist these are re-recordings. The initial “remix” approach was actually inspired by the similar thing Tiga & Zyntherius and Akufen did when “remixing” Cabaret Voltaire’s “Nag Nag Nag” for NovaMute in 2002. They used bits from the original song, but deconstructed it into sort-of a cover version each under remix pretenses. In case of Vice-Versa’s songs, Small Doses finally proposed that these are “ready-mades”, credited to two fictional characters, each appearing in, and telling, their own story – The Fall Guy and Dissident. Also tiny bits from the very Vice-Versa songs were used (the hissing snare bit is from the original tape-version of “Stilyagi” complementing Dissident’s re-recording, while the tiny synth-burst towards the end of The Fall Guy’s version is actually borrowed from another Vice-Versa song – “Artists At War”).
Interesting to mention that there are also cover versions of “New Girls Neutrons” appearing on YouTube – one recorded to great effect by John Costello (dating back from 2008) and one done in a rehearsal carbon-copy mode, by Lower Synth Dept. Who knows what the very VOD box-set might trigger further – possibly a whole collection of honest cover versions – a testimony to the very legacy of Vice-Versa, who at the same time explored disco, industrial muzak and science into their own urban data cocktail. Iv An, Nov, 2014
(1) from the article/interview “Jazz Drugs, Jazz Violence” by Andrew Darlington, 1980
(2) quoted from “The Graphic Language of Neville Brody”, Jon Wozencroft, Thames & Hudson, 1988
(3) quoted from an interview with Eve Wood for “Made In Sheffield” (documentary, Sheffieldvision, 2001)
“Trapped In Celluloid” originally written by Stephen Singleton and Mark White in 1979, and performed by Vice-Versa. This version re-recorded by The Fall Guy on vocals and synthesiser for Small Doses, 2014. Contains a sample from “Artists At War” (Vice-Versa, Neutron Tape, 1980). Thank you Richard and Sasha for the analysis. “Stilyagi” originally written and performed by Vice-Versa (Stephen Singleton, Mark White and Martin Fry) in 1980. This version re-recorded by Dissident on vocals and synthesiser for Small Doses, 2014. Contains a sample from the original version of “Stilyagi” (Vice-Versa, Neutron Tape, 1980). Thank you Miro P. for helping with all the mastering. Vice-Versa’s “Electrogenesis 1978-1980” box-set is now available from Vinyl On Demand via http://www.vinyl-on-demand.com Further reading: vvmusic.co.uk