#19 Capeloaf

Having to make up a one word band name using two existing words is surely the last resort of any aspiring musicians and straightaway firmly places the band on minus 10 on the creativity scale. Not that it is an uncommon practice, even outside music, to conjoin existing words because you don't have the imaginative where-with -all to come up with something half-decent yourself.

Take the seahorse for example. Most mythical creatures have great names; the minotaur, the griffin...so why is the seahorse any different? Yes, I know it's supposed to look like a horse with the bodily functions and water based needs of a fish - sort of like a mermaid and yes, fair enough they exist (we have all seen Tom Hanks getting it on with one in 'Splash'). But has anyone actually seen a seahorse? No. So what do they know. Unfortunately music is no different.

There are plenty of examples out there, making music as we speak. Some of you may have even been to one of their gigs - to those people I say go wash yourself thoroughly.
-Wolfmother - no one is convinced that you suckled baby lupine whelps. Get a better name.
-Coldplay - just because your name is nonsensical that doesn't make you good. Worse still, rumour has it that Keane gave it to you, as they were going to use it, but get this - thought it sounded too depressing. Dear Lord!
-Supertramp - actually that's quite cool. Who can't identify with a super-hero hobo?

And so we come to Capeloaf.

Worst. Band. Name. Ever.

Ok, so it's not as bad as '...And The Pasties' or 'The Noon Landings' but it's definitely up there. To reiterate - completely nonsensical band names are fine (eg 'The Flugalitarians' or 'Transbestite'). Using two words to make a new one is not.

With that out of the way we come to the band themselves. And, oh dear they certainly lived up to the quality of their name. From 1987 to 1993 they consistently pedaled out nu-wave pop dross that would make every single member of the Inspiral Carpets' turn in their graves and REM's 'Shiny Happy People' sound like a 6 hour dirge in memoriam of a deceased puppy, as written by Joy Division.

The group never released a song during their six years together. Gigging exclusively in the Kirby Bedon/Swainsthorpe area of Norfolk they failed to live up to their early promise as respectable grunge-core rockers, then called The F Elevens. On the face of it it seems to be the old story of band gets more than twenty fans, band sells out to make it big. Unfortunately the F Elevens never had as many as twenty fans. They were therefore destined to spend the rest of their careers selling out, but having no fans who would care that it was happening. One might question just whether this is really selling out, given no one knew who they were in the first place. To them I say yes, yes it is. It took six years before the group realised that no one cared. Despite a good write up in the Norwich Evening News in 1989 and having offered free food and drink at every single one of their 2,986 gigs (including, at various stages, six different volauvents, a Mediterranean seafood buffet and a medieval banquet). No one came.

What can you say about a band that had nothing and threw it all away. Not alot. Other than that they should have considered a managed and sustainable recycling scheme for their guitar-based-indie-pop-tat. You only need to look at what 'In Stew We Trust' were doing in the early nineties - bitesized manageable slices of pop intertwined with noise solos and a cute female bassist in a short skirt. Just like the scraps you get offered on your fish and chips Capeloaf seem like a great idea at the time but there's really nothing to them and they are 63% more likely to give you a heart attack.

Happy guitar pop doesn't come much happier. Capeloaf on the other hand are frankly yeast-erday's news.