Blue Plate Special: The Associates
The Associates painted with sound the way others might with brush and canvas—lavishly, defiantly, and always with a touch of surreal grandeur. Emerging from Dundee in 1979, the duo of Billy Mackenzie and Alan Rankine wove together post-punk angularity, cabaret theatrics, and synth-pop sheen into a sound that shimmered with both eccentricity and emotional weight. Mackenzie’s operatic, elastic voice stretched from whispers to wails, hovering above Rankine’s intricate guitar and keyboard landscapes like a restless phantom. Their music drew from glam rock’s decadence, art rock’s daring, and pop’s immediacy, often daring listeners with unorthodox textures—vacuum cleaner tubes, cascading snares, or icy synths—that blurred the line between avant-garde experimentation and chart-ready brilliance.
At their peak with Sulk (1982), songs like “Party Fears Two” and “Club Country” captured both glittering excess and aching fragility, painting neon-lit club walls and rain-slicked city streets in sound. Their work was never just heard—it was inhabited, a fever dream of cinematic balladry and fractured pop visions. Admired by Björk, borrowed from by U2, and echoed across decades of experimental pop, The Associates remain a testament to the strange alchemy of style and substance, where pop hooks and high art collided in a kaleidoscope of bold color, drama, and daring.
Some of my favorites from their catalog:
Club Country – from the album Sulk (1982)
Paper House – from the album The Affectionate Punch (1980)
Kitchen Person – from the album Fourth Drawer Down (1981)
Party Fears Two – from the album Sulk (1982)
Fire to Ice – from the album Wild and Lonely (1990)
A – from the album The Affectionate Punch (1980)
Straw Towels – from the album Fourth Drawer Down (1981)
Skipping – from the album Sulk (1982)
