#8 Baking Soda Pops

No one knows quite why the weasel went 'Pop!'. What we do know is that when early-nineties indie twee-sters Baking Soda Pops came onto the scene they did so with the combustible volatility of at least three of said long-tailed mammal.

The group formed in 1991 following the untimely demise of two of Blackpool's most promising pop groups - 'Coin-Op Tot' and 'The Jürgen Kilnsmann Project'. As if a small child powered purely by the insertion of assorted coins wasn't bad enough, yes there was also a band that paid homage to the 'swan-diving' German. The latter was the conception of one Jodie Ace, a child prodigy and son of Blackpool oil tycoon and magnet magnate Donald Ace II. Through his membership of Blackpool's only historical re-enactors of that good bit in hit movie 'ET the Extra-Terrestrial' where they fly on bikes, the young Ace became good friends with Sophie Abernathy then of New Wave funksters Coin-Op Tot.

The two wound up their respective projects, joined forces and were soon taken up by Baby Elephant Records. The label was initially keen to promote the unique selling points of the band and endorsed the 'Pops as their flagship group. Under the careful management of label boss Terry Thomason the group quickly became THE twee indie pop band of any generation that regularly reference obscure mid-nineties footballers. This, coupled with their use of incredibly long song titles, carved them a niche fit for disconsolate pubescent teenagers the county over. 1991's 'We Sang on that Winter's Night and all because you said you loved me Matthew Le Tissier' and 'Oh, I thought you liked me, but then I found out you could do without me Tony Yeboah (Is It True?)' were just two of the 'Pops offerings that found small scale favour with the hebetudinous of the community.

Nineties scenesters united behind the 'Pops, and were quick to copy their look of white suits and black string ties, as originally made famous by one Colonel Harland Sanders. But, in the eyes of the critics, and unlike the southern fried chicken with which the Colonel found fame, the Pops musical outings were rarely finger licking good. Indeed, their only real success came with 1993's 'John Salako Stole Your Love From Me'. Daily local news journal the Blackpool Star gave the single 3 and a half donkeys out of five, exclaiming it to be the greatest song ever written about a Crystal Palace player in love. Bizarrely, the group were also contacted by 'Tweed Monthly' magazine, who although having clearly been misinformed as to what they were actually reviewing, decided to run with the article nonetheless. A small write-up followed which sat surprisingly well next to an article on twill. The piece also led to a notable surge in popularity amongst the hunting, shooting fishing fraternity.

Despite support slots with a number of local groups the band also failed to captivate live audiences. The ostentation of the music was matched with equally pretentious live performances. Ace would prance onto the stage proclaiming himself the Prince of all Pies and would ask members of the audience to come with him on a journey through the crust to the meaty interior, as he played his electric kaleidoscope and sang about how Newcastle favourite Ruel Fox was a dainty flower child for the thirty-seventh time.

In late 1993, as with all groups who base their popularity around twee-pop, mid-nineties footballers and electric kaleidoscopes the 'good times' came to an end. When it soon became clear that Ace was yet another child prodigy 'gone bad' and string ties were replaced with ruffs, Baby Elephant Records turned their back on the 'Pops. The group themselves released a statement which denied they had been dropped but simply that they had parted ways to concentrate on their historical re-enactments. Ace was last heard to be planning an ambitious re-enactment of that scene in Postman Pat when they finally realise it was Mrs Goggins all along.