Ten years ago I accompanied friend and colleague Ross Charnock, of Charnock and Russell fame, to an interview with Head Brothers Mick and John from Shack.

Ross was, and remains, very fond of Shack and the Heads’ various outfits and was writing for local magazine INK, which was a bit of a forerunner to Black+White.

I took along my trusty manual SLR as I was flirting with a career in rock photography that ultimately came to very little, but was keen on Shack and The Strands too.

The interview began with Ross being invited to join the group as bassist, took in a ‘photoshoot’ at Crash Studios, detoured to several pubs around the city centre and finished in Ross’ flat with Mick and John playing an impromptu selection of Shack and Strands numbers. It was superb.

At the time Shack seemed on the verge of being massive, with HMS Fable receiving rave reviews and an NME cover declaring Mick to be ‘our greatest songwriter’.

Things didn’t quite work out like that, but I don’t think that matters. In a conversation about politics Mick patiently explained to me that nothing mattered as long as you were happy. The last time I saw Mick he was standing in a bin. He looked happy.

The following interview is courtesy of Ross, and took place in Summer 1999.

This article seems quite short now, unfortunately, yet to meet Shack I have undergone an eight day bender, beginning in Wetherspoon’s with Mick and John Head’s uncle George, with unprintable, libellous debauchery. Just trust me.

This is the price I was unwittingly well willing to pay to meet Shack and fortunately hear, intimately, some of the most vulnerable yet defiantly beautiful songs of this decade.

Still, that’s just my story. Shack’s is much more interesting; frustrating but, essentially, extremely fortunate and positive. You will, or should, already know the details, although you don’t have to.

So, space (not) allowing, Mick Head was in a Simon and Garfunkel-inspired guitar band called The Pale Fountains and beautiful members of eighties’ pop society loved him.

Then Shack formed and their albums’ commercial potential was spoilt by either overbearing or deserting record companies. Mick and brother John were in Love for a while with Arthur Lee, and there was heroin.

I omit feelings, opportunities and crushing ironies I may never understand – I might never know them – but if I did I’d hope to be as happy or rather as passionate as Michael Head seems now.

“I think I’m one of the best songwriters in the world, as we speak,” states Mick, with a humility which most stars don’t have but do need.

“And I agree,” agrees John, and I do too. Most of Shack’s songs are written by Mick, but John Head is an essential song contributor. How do they, as brothers as well as songwriters, establish the limits and also the opportunities for collaborating?

“I think John is one of the best songwriters too,” continues Mick. “My point being…”

“…that I’m better than you?”

“Alright – what about? Ha ha ha! But my point being, when we did Pull Together, I was a junkie,” Mick states. John is uncomfortable but understands his brother’s need to speak so candidly about himself.

“It’s cool,” he tells John. “Because we’re talking about music. And do you want to know why? Can you remember me coming out of detox and being in your flat? Can you remember you playing the piano? Can you remember me picking up the guitar up? Can you remember writing the song?”

“Exactly.” John has been agreeing, fervently, throughout.

“That’s Pull Together. That’s collaboration.”

It’s inaccurate almost to talk about ‘lost opportunities’ – Mick and John Head have got albums worth of amazing songs. Bacharach music with honesty and unsentimental pinpoint clarity, which people can go out and listen to, if they want. More to the point, they have created these songs and they are theirs. And I, for one, envy them.

“The positive thing about it is we know exactly what we’re doing,” says Mick. “The bottom line is we know the songs, let’s get on stage, play them, fuck off. That’s what we do, because that’s what was left with us.”

Not a bad legacy, I suppose.

They could only think of seven they particularly liked, so the (shortened) list is in full below. If you’re outraged by the lack of Gerry and the Pacemakers, Badfinger, The Swinging Blue Jeans, The Scaffold, Billy Fury, The Real Thing, Deaf School, Echo and the Bunnymen, Might Wah!, Elvis Costello, Icicle Works, A Flock of Seagulls, China Crisis, Teardrop Explodes, Big in Japan, It’s Immaterial, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Dead or Alive, OMD, The Christians, Black, The Lightning Seeds, The KLF, Benny Profane, The Farm, The La’s, The Boo Radleys, Ooberman, Cast, Space, Atomic Kitten, Amsterdam, The Bandits, Tramp Attack, Odega, The Stands, Ladytron, The Little Flames, The Zutons, The Basement, Dead 60′s, Flamingo 50, Zombina and the Skeletones or Candie Payne, then vent your fury below.

If you’re annoyed about the absence of The Wombats, don’t be – they’re terrible.

The Magical World of The Strands – Michael Head

Jazz/folk smacked out brilliance. On first hearing this it may motivate an musician/artist to use heroin as their muse but one must quickly acknowledge that you do not have Mick Head’s genius to pull this off.

Faves are Queen Matilda and X Hits the Spot, something hazily beautiful born out of the fog of addiction.

Help! – The Beatles

People say Gram Parson invented country rock or cosmic American music but do they remember McCartney’s I’ve Just Seen a Face here from 1965, such a country influenced song that genuine American bluegrass legends The Dillards covered it?

More countrification with the Ringo sung Buck Owens cover Act Naturally, a great vocal and due credit to the much-maligned Beatle.

Lennon tries to be Dylan on the stoner song You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away which is always played on documentaries when discussing Brian Epstein so we remember, by subtle implication, that he was a homosexual.

Revolver – The Beatles

Acid rock! The Beatles chiming Epiphone Casinos harmonise beautifully on And Your Bird Can Sing, an “elegantly classical/Baroque leitmotif” (Alan W Pollock ‘Notes on The Beatles’).

Someone said this was about Mick Jagger because his bird, Marianne Faithfull, could sing. But she couldn’t really and surely Lennon would have known this so I am not sure about this anecdote.

This album followed on from Rubber Soul and I think George Harrison said they were like Volume 1 and Volume 2. You can almost smell the marijuana smoke but, like Mick Head, don’t try this at home unless you are already a genius.

Remember, if you are genetically predisposed to mental illness marijuana might just give you paranoid psychosis or schizophrenia.

Greatest Hits – The Coral

As good as Alan Partridge’s Best of The Beatles, these less indigenous scousers write scores of catchy tunes with beautiful country influenced guitar by erstwhile member Bill Ryder-Jones. Jacqueline is lovely and, if she exists, I would like to meet their muse.

Unfortunately, Noel Gallagher’s endorsement of the band is the kiss of death which I hope they survive.

Paul and Linda McCartney – Ram

Hope this still counts as they probably were living on a big farm in Scotland when this was made. Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey is another great example of McCartney’s knack for two songs in one, like Day in the Life or Band on the Run. 

This song was used very aptly when Del Boy and Rodney fall out with Uncle Albert and lose him in a Christmas special of Only Fools and Horses, in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if John Sullivan wrote this specifically to use the music.

3 EPs (Voot/Cement Mixer/Monkey On Your Back) – Clinic

Not strictly an album but it was the first long playing release from those edgy doo wop punks Clinic. A great two fingers to scouse musicians’ obsession with everything 60s and Clinic don’t even play in Liverpool. So fuck you scousers!

Achtung Bono – Half Man Half Biscuit

Haven’t actually ever heard this album but it beats The White Album to this top ten for the title alone.

Charnock and Russell are not a firm of solicitors but an almost Liverpool-based country rock outfit