I took a while to warm up to Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine. Didn’t know that much about them, didn’t really care for the name, didn’t like that the person I knew who listened to them most was my housemate Doug, who tended to go straight for all those Madchester bands that all those floppy-haired baggy idiots listened to.
The first chance I had to see Jim Bob and Fruitbat was at Huddersfield Poly in 1990, and instead I opted to sit outside the gig, working the till. I didn’t hate what I heard through the doors, and I seem to recall being quite taken with the slightly muffled sound of their cover of the Pet Shop Boys’ Rent, but that was it.
And then over the next year I grew to love them. Continue reading The Music That Nobody Likes: Carter and me