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Heavenly Records

Thirty years after it began, Heavenly is still the sharpest, smartest record label in the UK

Anthony Teasdale tells the story of a very British success story

Heavenly boss Jeff Barrett

Soho, late spring, 1999.

The grid of streets south of London’s Oxford Street has always attracted the misfits and rebels: where call girls rubbed shoulders with gangsters; politicians buttered up journalists and actors, musicians, artists and writers drank their talents away in Gerry’s, the Colony, the French and of course, the Coach And Horses.

You stroll down Berwick Street, popping into the Record And Tape Exchange for second-hand Bowie albums, and Vinyl Junkies for straight-off-the plane house music imports. Down Old Compton Street, then back up Frith. Grab a cappuccino from Bar Italia – one of the few places to serve decent coffee in pre-millennium London – then over the road to that doorway.

You press the buzzer – the one that says ‘Heavenly’.

Up the stairs and you’re in the office of the most important record label in the country. A label that’s given us the Manic Street Preachers, St Etienne, Beth Orton, Doves and Flowered Up in less than a decade. On the walls are enormous posters of the Happy Mondays and the Manics. The stereo is cranked up high and label boss Jeff Barrett is enthusing about a new band he’s about to sign, while assorted visitors – DJs, journalists, barbers, gadflies – mill about, relishing their place in the centre of the musical universe. Heavenly Records is where you absolutely need to be right now.

Spring, 2020: London is a very

different place. The hum of traffic has gone, the pubs are shut and everyone’s working from home. You turn on 6Music, the BBC’s ‘alternative’ station and an extraordinary tune comes on, halfway between the yacht-rock funk of The Cars and the feminist music of The Go-Gos. “Take back the radio and move along,” she sings. You Shazam it and find it on Spotify. It’s Katy J Pearson’s Take Back The Radio. The label? Heavenly. Obviously.

Robin Turner was Heavenly’s press officer during the 1990s and 2000s. His new book, Believe In Magic, catalogues the label’s journey over three decades, from the release of St Etienne’s Foxbase Alpha album (still a masterpiece), through Doves, The Vines and Magic Numbers to Katy J Pearson and Aussie-disco nutters Confidence Man.

“The Frith Street office was above Ronnie Scott’s and opposite Bar Italia,” he says. “That meant anyone could find it without detailed instructions, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. It meant that if you cranked the music up around 4pm, threw the windows open and filled the fridge with cans of Red Stripe, you’d have a room full of people within about an hour. If you didn’t manage to sneak out by 6pm, you were tied to the mast and probably hailing a cab around 2am. I really miss it.”

“If you didn’t manage to sneak out by 6pm, you were tied to the mast and probably hailing a cab around 2am”

Foxy lady: the cover of Foxbase Alpha

Light years: the new Heavenly book

Heavenly was started by independent press officer (and gig promoter/all-round good egg) Jeff Barrett in 1990. At the time, he was doing press for the likes of the Happy Mondays and Primal Scream (having previously been at Creation Records – later home of Oasis). So when acid house transformed the musical landscape in 1988, he was in the perfect place to harness this explosion of energy into something tangible – a record label. A record label called Heavenly.

Andrew Harrison was the editor of

Select magazine, the bible of British pop in the early 1990s. He’s also a devoted Heavenly fan.

“They were and are an independent who really walked the walk,” he says. “They did it purely for the love of a great band, a good idea and a good time. That’s why there was never a ‘Heavenly sound’ – Jeff and the crew would pile in on anything that got them excited. And while there might not have been a Heavenly sound, there was a Heavenly aesthetic: a love of pop, a sense of style and a sense of humour. A need to make the world brighter. Every act was a caper, a break-and-enter, a smash-and-grab against industry rules that said there was only one way to do things.”

Throughout the ’90s, Heavenly released a stream of records that still define everything good about that most joyful of decades. St Etienne’s Only Love Can Break Your Heart; Beth Orton’s Central Reservation and Flowered Up’s It’s On. Early signings The Manic Street Preachers crossed into the mainstream, while Manc rockers Doves (previously techno-disco outfit Sub Sub) released a series of anthems and became stalwarts on the festival circuit.

Club culture and dance music were always at the core of Heavenly’s philosophy, if not its output. And no more so than its club, the Heavenly Sunday Social, which took place over 13 weeks in 1994 at The Albany, a pub on London’s Euston Rd. Music was provided by the Dust Brothers – later the Chemical Brothers – whose sets provided the soundtrack to scenes of near-unimaginable carnage.

“They played a unique mix of psychedelic rock ’n’ roll, soul, hip-hop, punishing techno and anything else that took their fancy,” says Robin Turner. “DJs like Andrew Weatherall, David Holmes, Tricky and Tim Burgess all happily warmed up for them. It got busier and busier until it felt like the venue was going to split at the seams, so, like The Beatles, we decided to quit at the top of our game.”

The Social was reborn at Turnmills nightclub in Farringdon and ran throughout the ’90s, while Heavenly opened a couple of bars (also called ‘The Social’) in London and Nottingham. In 2015, 21 years after the heady days of the Albany, the label began putting on Heavenly Weekender events at the Trades Club in Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire.

Like many record labels, Heavenly faced periods of uncertainty in the 2000s/2010s, often because deals with major labels meant they couldn’t move as quickly as they wanted to. Yet it survived, signing groups like The Vines and The Orielles, as well as the aforementioned Confidence Man. Jeff Barrett and Robin Turner even used a pause in releases to start a fishing/lifestyle/literature website, Caught By The River.

Today, Heavenly is truly independent and releasing music that’s every bit as compelling as it did in the 1990s – certainly in Andrew Harrison’s eyes.

“The current crop of Heavenly acts – Working Men’s Club, The Orielles, Stealing Sheep, Katy J Pearson – are every inch the equal of the good old days. Bands who understand that the world can always be brighter and there's always a reason to stay up a little longer.”

For Robin Turner, it feels like things have gone full circle.

“All the time we were with major labels, you’d have to wait around for majorlabel people to agree to let you do things. It meant lots of great bands didn’t get signed, and some big bands had to shift out of the way of even bigger bands. The label is now much more like it was at the start – there’s a hustle, and it’s fun. I’ve not worked there for 10 years, but I kind of wish I could again. Just maybe missing every other Monday.”

Believe In Magic: Heavenly Records, The First 30 Years by Robin Turner is out now

C60 BLUE Limited Edition

Rhapsody in blue

Christopher Ward marks the 10th anniversary of Blue Marine Foundation, supporting its work in restoring ocean habitats and protecting the seas

“Donations from the watch’s sale will help us achieve our mission to restore the oceans to health”

Founded in 2010, Blue Marine Foundation (BLUE) is a charity dedicated to restoring the ocean’s health by

addressing overfishing, one of the world’s biggest environmental problems. Ten years on, BLUE has worked to combat harmful fishing, restore important marine habitats, establish sustainable fishing, and secure commitments to protect over four million square kilometres of ocean. BLUE’s mission is to see 30 per cent of the world’s seas under effective protection by 2030 – no mean feat for a group of friends who met on the documentary The End Of The Line.

“The team at BLUE has established a genuinely sustainable fishery in Lyme Bay, pioneered the return of our native oyster around the UK and consistently called out overfishing in all its forms,” says Charles Clover, executive director of BLUE. “The decade ahead could not be more critical, as the world moves towards protecting 30 per cent of the ocean by 2030.”

Christopher Ward has been a supporter

of the charity since 2019, and has just released the beautiful new C60 BLUE as a limited edition with BLUE at its heart.

“We’re deeply grateful to Christopher Ward for marking our 10th anniversary with this exquisite watch,” says Clover. “Donations from its sale will help us achieve our mission to restore the ocean to health, starting with a network of marine parks around the British Isles.” The C60 BLUE is something Christopher Ward is justly proud of. “From the sapphire dial engraved with BLUE’s wave logo to the deep-stamped engraving of the same design on the backplate, there’s no question this is one of the most gorgeous-looking watches CW has ever produced,” says Mike France, CEO of Christopher Ward.

As well as being friends of the deep, BLUE has supporters in high places too – ambassadors who share the vision and the commitment to the health of Britain and the world’s oceans.

One such ambassador – whose ranks include Poppy Delevingne, Ben Fogle and Arizona Muse – is Stephen Fry, who says, “Blue Marine is a life raft. It knows that while it isn’t too late to save ourselves by saving the oceans, the ticking of the clock is getting louder and louder. Without hysteria or hectoring, Blue Marine gets on with doing effective work that makes a difference – it deserves our support, applause and assistance.” Christopher Ward couldn’t agree more.

Available from £895 / $1,025 / €1,070

Swiss engineering ensures our Super Compressor won’t implode the deeper it goes. If only your body was Swiss-engineered.

Being romantic English types, we decided to reinvent the iconic dive watch of the 1960s. It is the very first genuine Super Compressor since the Swiss case manufacturer Ervin Piquerez S.A. stopped making them some 50 years ago. Our Swiss engineers have embraced the challenge; right down to the compression spring, which is only 300 microns thick and the width of just four human hairs. It’s a small bit of Swiss genius you can barely see, yet it compresses the case as you dive, allowing you to go deeper. In fact, the deeper you dive the more water-tight it gets. Mind-blowing isn’t it? christopherward.com

Marcelo Bielsa

One of the greatest powers of football is its ability to forge the bonds of unity

and memory among its supporters. Every club has lifelong fans who’ve sat through countless games over the decades, with friends, family and loved ones, making the outcome of each match not only a sporting achievement but a feat of close connection and reminiscence.

I first watched Leeds United in 1963 as an eight-year-old, and I remember every detail like it was yesterday. My dad took me to a Division Two game at Elland Road, which ended in a goalless draw. Leeds were doing quite well that year, galvanised by a new manager, Don Revie. At the end of the season they were promoted to Division One (then, the top tier) along with Sunderland. I was promoted too – into being my dad’s regular companion for home games. I sat next to John Poulson (the architect subsequently jailed for bribing various council officials with brown envelopes). A nice man, he used to give me the odd sweetie. More oddly perhaps, to the mind of an eight-year-old at least, I remember he used to play with his dentures throughout the game. The next season in Division One, Leeds took off. They got to the FA Cup Final, almost winning it, too – something they had never done before. I experienced the best night of my life (so far) when Dad drove us down to the City Ground, Nottingham, where Leeds played against the mighty Manchester United – George Best, Denis Law and Bobby Charlton – in a semi-final replay. I did my maths homework in the car. With two minutes to go the most iconic Leeds player of all, Billy Bremner, back-headed the ball into the goal – we won 1-0 and were going to Wembley. I will never forget that moment. All the grown-ups around me leapt to their feet with a primeval roar like nothing I have ever heard before or since – the stand we were in physically shook (I found out later it was completely made of wood and was burned to a crisp three years later).

There followed a decade of extravagant over-achievement for Leeds United, both at home and in Europe, by what had until then been a rather unfashionable northern football club. Dad and I made numerous visits to Wembley finals, not to mention heart-breaking semi-finals where we were pipped at the post. In 1972, we finally won the FA Cup after many years of close shaves. I lost my virginity that night in London, too. I could never decide which event was the more significant (I knew really, the cup win of course) but needless to say, neither was ever repeated.

Leeds’ Jack Charlton comes up against brother Bobby in a Leeds-Man United clash

Thanks to Bielsa, I’m 11 years old again, sitting with my dad as Billy Bremner and company run rings around the opposition

After such a footballing convulsion, it was inevitable that there would be a reaction and when the old guard of Leeds stalwarts retired in the mid-’70s the club’s fortunes declined dramatically. After a title win in 1992, there was a second collapse, this time for real. The club almost went bankrupt and in 2007 were relegated to League One (the old Division Three). But support in Leeds for the team never died. It was as if everyone in the city had been present 50 years before and wasn’t prepared to give up. Over the next few years, ownership of the club ping-ponged between various chancers and the manager seemed to change every fortnight.

Finally, in June 2018, Argentinian Marcelo Bielsa, who had a reputation for being effective, but crazy, was appointed manager. Craziness isn’t a bad thing in football as any follower of Brian Clough will tell you. Bielsa is a uniquely single-minded manager who thinks nothing of sitting on an upturned bucket to watch the game. He’s painted a blue line in the road all the way from his house in Leeds to the training ground, so he doesn’t have to worry about directions (he speaks no English), the better to concentrate on football.

Bielsa is a leader of fairness and honour. When Leeds scored a dubious goal against Aston Villa last season, he instructed the players immediately to let one in because he didn’t want to win unfairly. He is known in Argentina as ‘El Loco’ (‘the mad one’). He plays a pressing, insistent style of football which has propelled Leeds back up into the Premier League after 20 years of invisibility. He has made maestros out of workaday performers and infused the supporters who never gave up with unhoped-for pride. The whole city is buzzing. If you’re a Leeds fan, it’s a dream come true. No wonder the new mantra is, ‘In Bielsa We Trust’. It’s true. We do. El Loco has brought us back to life.

leedsunited.com