Charlatans - Manchester's Storytellers

The Charlatans are the only band in the history of English music to be a child of the so-called Madchester movement and then make the transition into Britpop without ever breaking up, emerging, if anything, more active than ever, even though a couple of founding members are no longer with us, having passed away. Twelve studio albums, two singles compilations, one b-side collection and a live album: that's the band's hefty body of work, with three UK number 1s and four more Top 10 entries. This prolific output comes with a remarkable eclecticism, given the variety of sources of inspiration drawn on at different points across their long career. Beyond the already-mentioned Madchester and Britpop, folk, the Los Angeles music scene and dub have all been among the band's most distinctive influences, and looking at their whole discography, it's clear that while the Charlatans initially wanted to express the feelings and style of the era they were living through, later on they simply moved into territories they happened to enjoy at the time, with no further agenda.

Many of the choices the band has made at different points in their career stem from the inspiration of a charismatic leader like Tim Burgess, a man who, even now at 47, still has a kid's enthusiasm for music and everything surrounding it, including his relationship with fans. Burgess is extremely active on Twitter and periodically holds his so-called listening parties: he sets a time for fans, asks everyone to start playing an album, and discusses it live as it plays. This love of social media is just the latest expression of this artist's drive never to stand still, always searching for new paths, both musically and in how he presents himself to the market and relates to fans. In 2008, for instance, the Charlatans' tenth album, You Cross My Path, was released as a free download, hardly a common move at the time, and certainly different from the pay-what-you-like model Radiohead had used just a few months earlier. Another contrarian choice was leaving, in quick succession, two labels like Universal and Sanctuary (a BMG subsidiary), which would have guaranteed wider promotion and therefore greater earnings; but Burgess and his bandmates had embraced the idea of closely tying their record-label independence to direct contact with listeners. It's not an easy path to take after a lifetime of success and the spotlight pointed at you, but it's the most natural route when passion is what's driving you. Burgess has also founded his own label, O'Genesis, through which he releases his solo work and, above all, music by bands he likes but who are still unknown; he's also always ready to give his own endorsement to artists he admires, often having fun collaborating with them too.

The band's formation and early days

Burgess lives in the small village of Moulton and, even as a teenager, barely attended school, spending most of his time instead in record shops and at the era's nightlife hub, the Hacienda in Manchester. The owner of his favourite record shop also happens to be the manager of the fledgling Charlatans, at the time made up of Martin Blount (bass), Jon Brookes (drums) and new arrival Rob Collins (keyboards), alongside Baz Ketley (vocals and guitar). The manager feels the band is good but that they'd realise their full potential with a more capable frontman, and asks Tim to go to one of their shows and give him his opinion. Without knowing what the manager is thinking, Tim comes back with exactly the same view. The next step comes when Tim's band at the time, Electric Crayon, open for the Charlatans. The other band members realise he's the missing piece, bring him on board, and don't even have to make an effort to push Ketley out, since he reads the situation himself and leaves of his own accord. They still need a guitarist, and Jon Baker is chosen for the role; after that, the Charlatans' adventure can truly begin.

As mentioned, all five musicians had breathed deeply the air of the Hacienda and the sound of bands like New Order, Happy Mondays, Stone Roses and Inspiral Carpets. In some way they couldn't escape that influence, and indeed the whole rhythm section would owe a clear debt to the aforementioned bands, at least in this early period. The five of them, however, wanted to push a bit further and range more widely with their reference points, adding in particular a touch of light, sunny, colourful sixties pop psychedelia. Rob Collins' style on the Hammond organ helps a great deal here, giving the music that colour and also acting as the perfect bridge between the melody-guitar-vocal-tone trio, more rooted in the past, and the rhythm section, influenced by what was then the present. This role for the keyboard would remain a constant throughout the Charlatans' career, even through the many stylistic shifts over the years, and it comes across even more clearly live than on record.

Burgess and Baker joined the band in May 1989; before the year was out, the Charlatans had already built a solid reputation thanks to their live shows, and the time came to release their first single. Among the songs ready at that point, the choice fell on "Indian Rope", and in these four and a half minutes you can already hear everything the band set out to do. A bouncy, instantly catchy Hammond riff, a steady rhythm section with great groove, an obviously sixties-flavoured melody, classic-rock guitar that never takes centre stage but steps in only to reinforce the Hammond sound when needed, and a smooth, enveloping vocal tone with a faint hint of acidity that never fully hogs the spotlight. The song is a hit, gigs get increasingly packed, the independent press of the time is already on their side, and plenty of labels approach the band about joining their roster. Beggars Banquet wins out, an indie despite offers from majors too, and the label's first winning move is to suggest "The Only One I Know" as the second single.

"The Only One I Know" is a genuine classic of English pop and a truly irresistible song. One could be unkind about how closely its guitar lines resemble those of "Hush", made famous by Deep Purple, but overall it's the kind of song that grabs the listener instantly, thanks also to other devices that certainly weren't copied from anywhere: here too there's the Hammond riff, the groove of the rhythm section, and the way the guitar comes and goes, knowing exactly when to seize the spotlight — first more gently in the chorus, then more forcefully in the brief solo. The quality of the melody and the sheer effectiveness of the vocal tone within this whole framework do the rest, and to this day the song still wins over everyone who sets foot in an indie club.

Instant fame, the first albums and the arrival of Mark Collins

The single reaches the sales Top 10 and nationwide success is immediate. The band plays increasingly bigger venues and even embarks on an American tour. The road is now clear for the release of their debut album, and after another single, for which the choice falls on "Then", Some Friendly arrives in October 1990 — a title originally meant for the album's opening track, "You're Not Very Well".

This first song picks up the same coordinates as the first two singles, but there's much more to the album, and just like its most famous track, Some Friendly is a record that any English pop fan knows by heart and cherishes with real devotion. The mix of the elements described above is approached each time from a different angle, so that the record is, on one hand, a patchwork of colours and the feelings tied to them, and on the other, a kaleidoscopic yet perfectly organic construction, in which every single element is necessarily part of the overall design and the value of the whole is greater than the sum of its individual moments. The sunburst of "White Shirt" is the perfect prelude to the aforementioned big single, which then flows into the long, dreamy journey of "Opportunity", which in turn spills into the bored-yet-irritated tone of "Then", and so on.

Each song has its own identity, and the pairings between the different tracks might seem almost too contrasting; yet, letting the record play through, the consistency of its overall flow is striking, and the listener feels genuinely carried along a journey full of shifting colours and emotions, without ever losing that underlying unity. One of the keys to achieving such a result is necessarily varying, across the album, the balance between voice, guitar and keyboard: so in "White Shirt" Burgess is particularly at the forefront, while in "Opportunity" the guitar makes itself heard a great deal. Also contributing to the high degree of variety — one of the reasons the listener's interest never flags — are the instrumental "109 Pt. 2" halfway through the record, the especially danceable rhythm paired with the enigmatic melody of "Polar Bear", and leaner, more stripped-back moments like "Flower". It all closes with one of the most important songs the band has ever written, also invariably used to end their concerts: "Sproston Green", on which none of the five Charlatans hold anything back, with both voice and every instrument running at full throttle over a first-rate melodic framework. The way this song is delivered live is a joy for the ears, both for the especially overwhelming impact of that collective surge and for the long instrumental coda, perfect for closing a live show because it arrives at a moment when it could seemingly go on forever and everyone would still be happy.

Some Friendly is proof that you can make an authentically pop record while sticking to one basic idea across all the songs and varying it in every possible way, in terms of track length, degree of melodic openness, the way the instruments interact, and the type of feelings expressed. One quirk of the record is that "Indian Rope" isn't included on it, and the band wanted to do the same with "The Only One I Know". The label at least manages to get the single that had brought them success included on the CD version: the band agrees, believing vinyl to be the more important format, with no idea that the CD would soon take over. Another sign of Beggars Banquet's foresight.

The record inevitably lands at number 1 on the charts, and the band's activity becomes ever more intense, both in terms of touring and recording, with two EPs of entirely new songs released in quick succession. During this period it becomes clear within the band that Jon Baker is unable to keep up with the now-elevated standard required, whether due to technical limitations or a lack of determination and focus on his part. Baker ends up leaving, and Mark Collins takes his place - no relation to Rob - who is still in the band to this day. Mark appears on roughly half the songs on the second album, while the other half were recorded only by the remaining four members.

Between 10th To 11th came out in March 1992, bearing the stamp of a producer already of some standing, Flood. Whether it was the contribution of someone so experienced, or that of the new guitarist, far more skilled than his predecessor, or simply the natural ambition of a group of musicians who had tasted success right from the start and saw their popularity constantly on the rise - or perhaps all of these things combined - the fact remains that, compared to the debut, this record shows far greater imagination on every front: song structure, vocal tone (with Rob Collins' voice creating harmonies with Burgess'), the drive of the rhythm section, and the breadth of keyboard and generally digital sounds on offer.

This record is usually not regarded as one of the high points in the Charlatans' career: it didn't even crack the Top 20 in Britain, its presence on compilations is limited to "Weirdo" alone, and even in live setlists, after a while, it started being left out entirely. In this writer's opinion, such sales figures and such an almost total lack of legacy for a work of this calibre are inexplicable.

Between 10th To 11th, in fact, showcases a band with a strong urge not to get stuck repeating what they'd done up to that point, and one that, already on their second record, shows a veteran's skill at ranging freely among the various elements that make up a song, always combining the different solutions in the best possible way. The aforementioned "Weirdo" opens, like many songs on the first record, with a catchy keyboard riff, but plenty has changed around it: the rhythm is more electronic, with less groove, yet it inevitably gets under the listener's skin, while the guitar trades places with the keyboard in a kind of constant chase made up entirely of killer melodic lines; throughout, the vocal melody is solid and proves the perfect complement to this instrumental dynamism. This is indeed the record's most celebrated moment, but certainly not its only high point: "Page One" feels like a kind of depiction of mood swings, moving from a tense, acidic opening to a chorus that brings far more serenity in a wholly natural way; the other single, "Tremelo Song", is simple and urgent at once, with the sound slowly but steadily building, a choice that makes the already-effective melody grow ever more irresistible as the song unfolds; "Subtitle" likewise plays on dynamism and a gradually thickening sound, but keeps an almost ethereal feel, with a melody that burrows into the listener's head straight away and doesn't let go easily; "Can't Even Be Bothered" moves nicely back and forth between a muffled verse and a far more direct chorus, both melodically and sonically; "(No One) Not Even The Rain" also plays on the alternation between verse and chorus, with the acidic, stretched-out guitar suddenly switching to produce jangle worthy of the Byrds.

Some Friendly is undoubtedly more engaging and colourful, and has a particularly smooth, cohesive flow going for it, whereas Between 10th To 11th doesn't quite nail the sequencing between songs in the same way, even if it doesn't lack an overall logical thread. The fact remains that the second album, too, is a terrific record, one that reveals a band already able, right from the start, to purposefully explore paths quite different from those they were used to.

Drug problems and Rob Collins

Unfortunately, during this period, drug dependency becomes a significant factor in the band's life. Rob Collins bears the brunt of it above all, falling in with a dangerous crowd and finding himself caught up, against his will, in an incident in which an armed robbery was staged as a joke - but the victim and the police took it seriously, and the man holding the toy gun was sentenced to four years, while Rob, who was driving a car he owned, got eight months. Recording for the third album, Up To Our Hips, had already begun, and session keyboardists were brought in to cover the missing songs. Partly due to the absence of their regular man and partly due to Mark Collins growing in confidence, the guitar ends up playing a more prominent role in the record's overall sound than it had in the past.

Up To Our Hips came out in 1994 and, compared to earlier records, shows decidedly simpler structures in terms of arrangement, sounding more direct and immediate than ever, while still carrying a broad range of moods and colours. On the record the band alternates between the highest levels of brightness and positivity and moments of real gloom and negativity, without skipping the shades in between.

The darker moments are probably shaped by worry over Rob, while the more vibrant ones tie directly into the ever-growing importance of the britpop phenomenon. "Can't Get Out Of Bed" is the perfect example of this latter type of song, as well as the record's most popular track and one of the band's best-known: the vocal tone is particularly open, and the melody of the voice itself is so engaging that, for once, guitar and keyboard hold back from interfering and simply accompany it, managing to do so in a way that's straightforward without being banal. "Jesus Hairdo" travels along the same emotional lines but is a touch more complex in terms of melody, song structure and the interplay between the various elements, voice included.

The most notable examples of the opposite kind of song are two: "Autograph", slow, subdued, almost narcotic - a new attitude for the band that here translates into a result that's hard to listen to at first but deeply compelling once you get used to it - and "Patrol", which rides a particularly acidic guitar riff and conveys the feeling of someone confused who, not knowing how to regain control of the situation, ends up in a downward spiral taking them further and further from any sense of calm.

Among the in-between moments one could cite the instrumental "Feel Flows", with guitar that sounds particularly classic rock and keyboard that is instead more modern but makes a good complement to the six strings, and "I Never Want An Easy Life If Me And Him Were Ever To Get There", the most aggressive, rock-leaning track the Charlatans had produced up to that point, which plays on shifts in intensity between the song's various sections, punctuated by sharply incisive instrumental breaks.

Just like the preceding Between 10th To 11th, Up To Our Hips suffers a little from unevenness, precisely because of the almost constant lack of continuity from one track to the next, but it's a record that deserves appreciation, as it's packed with inspiration, ideas and genuine emotional honesty. Even opting to take far fewer risks in terms of sound and arrangements, the Charlatans still manage to find plenty of variety, some very strong melodies, and to pour a range of emotions onto the listener in a remarkably realistic and effective way. The record brings the band back into the British Top 10, reaching number 8 to be precise, and marks the lead-up to the Charlatans' years of greatest commercial success.

Joining the britpop movement

The britpop buzz is now at its peak, and interest keeps growing for bands who can be linked in some way to the movement. The Charlatans thus end up thrown into that mix, partly thanks to the savvy promotion handled by their PR agency, and partly because Tim Burgess was by then living in London, in Camden or thereabouts, and spending a lot of time with leading musicians from that scene, such as the Gallagher brothers, Bernard Butler, Andy Bell, and James Dean Bradfield and Richey Edwards. The decision, then, is to release before the end of 1994 - on 26 December, to be precise - an EP of four new songs led by "Crashin' In", which would later appear on the fourth album, simply titled The Charlatans, released in 1995.

Actually, the album has very little to do with britpop, given that at the time it was almost entirely Tim and Mark Collins handling the songwriting — a frontman who had by then developed a passion for Bob Dylan and Gram Parsons, and a guitarist who, as we've seen, already had a classic-rock sensibility of his own. The fact remains that the album sends the band back to number 1, with The Charlatans' popularity at an all-time high.

Stylistically, this is a decidedly un-British record in which guitar takes center stage, while the keyboard is used only as a complement and almost always without that modern sound it had always had up to that point. The band keeps expressing itself in different registers depending on the song: the aforementioned "Crashin' In" has a guitar that surges like a river in flood and a clear, irresistible melody, while "Just Looking" is lighter, with an acoustic and an electric guitar creating the classic rhythm-plus-lead relationship; "Here Comes A Soul Saver" pairs a slow rhythm with a full electric sound, and "Just When You're Thinking Things Over" is lively but far more acoustic-leaning than almost anything The Charlatans had done up to that point.

It's no coincidence that the four singles have been singled out, since they turn out to be the record's strongest moments, while the rest of the tracks offer a few good moments alternating with some that leave you puzzled. There are two good songs: "Bullet Comes", built on a fine interplay between a rhythm section that for once strays from the band's classic sound, two keyboard lines weaving skilfully together, and an equally dynamic guitar, with a melody that isn't the easiest but immediately grabs your attention, and "Tell Everyone", centred on the voice-and-acoustic-guitar pairing and blessed with another well-crafted melody. Less convincing, on the other hand, are the opening one-two of "Nine Acres Court"–"Feeling Holy" and the whole final stretch: quite simply, none of these songs seem to carry the strengths that, in turn, characterise the band's best moments and that had always shown up until then (interesting melodies, engaging rhythms, effective guitar or keyboard lines, the ability to make the different elements interact with purpose).

The Charlatans does cement the band's popularity, but it's a step backwards in terms of overall quality, even though it still holds several moments that have little to envy from the past. The overall verdict is positive, but if you had to recommend only a handful of Charlatans albums, this one certainly wouldn't make the list.

Rob Collins' death and the band's peak of popularity

Recording sessions for the following album, Tellin' Stories, drag on and are rather turbulent. The reason is simple: Rob Collins is still trapped in the tunnel of drug addiction and has by now become an outsider within the band. Relations with the other members start to deteriorate, and at one point, after a furious row with Tim Burgess, Rob takes his car and goes back home for a few days. While driving back to the studio, he loses control of the car, crashes and dies. It's a devastating emotional blow for the rest of the band, and the uncertainty over The Charlatans' future looms large. Coming to their rescue is Martin Duffy of Primal Scream, who first fills in for Rob at the hugely important slot of the famous two-day Knebworth shows headlined by Oasis, scheduled just a few weeks after the tragedy, and then heads into the studio, allowing The Charlatans to finish what is without doubt the best-known and best-loved album of their entire career.

1997 is a pivotal year for the history of English pop, since the britpop movement continues to enjoy enormous popularity and some of the albums released that year rank among the scene's highest peaks, while at the same time some bands belonging to that world begin moving in different directions, laying the groundwork for a new era to begin. The Charlatans follow a path all their own, because as we've seen they had been lumped in with britpop somewhat forcibly back in 1995, but Tellin' Stories can legitimately be placed within that movement and stands as one of its finest examples. To convey the greatness of this record, one could simply list the tracklist, packed as it is with hugely popular songs loved by anyone with even a passing interest in pop music. But there's more to it than that, because here The Charlatans finally return to expressing their full potential from every angle, and while gorgeous albums like Between 10th To 11th and Up To Our Hips could be subject — as we've seen — to minor criticism, Tellin' Stories is as unimpeachable as Some Friendly. There's a striking consistency in melodic quality, with every song, not just the singles, proving irresistible and endlessly singable without any cheap pandering, simply because the melodies are top-notch; there's a Tim Burgess never so in command of his voice and never so capable of expressing himself convincingly across different registers; there's still a certain dominance of guitar over keyboard, but the latter no longer just accompanies, carving out its own space each time in a way that's perfectly suited to the context; there's a rhythm section that knows how to move between the exuberance of the past and the greater linearity of the previous record, always making the right choice so that the drive of bass and drums gives each track the right solidity; and finally, there's that sense of overall cohesion which, as already mentioned, wasn't always something The Charlatans managed to achieve. The impression is that the band's different souls have finally met in the middle, squaring the circle under the shared banner of the noble art of pop, and, above all, that they managed to face adversity in the right way, even after it spiralled into a tragedy that could have brought the whole house down. From the risk of having to throw everything away, within a few months The Charlatans managed to produce their biggest success, as well as the album that, together with their explosive debut, represents the artistic peak of their entire career.

Tellin' Stories naturally goes straight to number 1 on the charts, and the four singles taken from it all sell well too. The irresistible groove of "One To Another", the pop-rock polish of "North Country Boy" and the controlled aggression of "How High" all reach the Top 10 — something that hadn't happened for a Charlatans single since "The Only One I Know" — while the dreamy mood with its sweet chorus crescendo of the title track still manages to reach the Top 20.

The Charlatans are by now among the most important bands in the UK.

The move to a major label and the Los Angeles wonderland

The band's earnings, however, are certainly not in line with the albums' commercial success. So the group decides to leave Beggars Banquet and sign with Universal. As a parting gesture, The Charlatans' first compilation is released, titled Melting Pot. The compilation offers a handsome and faithful overview of what The Charlatans had been up to that point: the only snag is that only "Weirdo" represents Between 10th To 11th, though the collection also includes remixes and singles that never made it onto the albums, and these inclusions at least help to properly represent the different stylistic phases of the band's journey. Anyone wanting to get an initial sense of what this band's best period was like can safely start here and will immediately be pointed in the right direction.

Meanwhile, the keyboardist who will replace Rob Collins is chosen: Tony Rogers, who from the very start also contributes to songwriting. The band builds its own studio but unfortunately suffers a serious financial blow: their trusted accountant disappears with three hundred thousand pounds, and it turns out he hadn't paid taxes in five or six years — the losses come close to two million. This setback doesn't stop the arrival, in 1999, of their sixth album, the first under Universal: it's a disorienting work, not an easy listen, different from everything the band had done up to that point and from everything they would do afterwards. Us And Us Only, in fact, combines introspection with full-blown psychedelia and offers very few concessions to pop.

From the lead single "Forever" alone, it's clear the mood has shifted: it's a particularly long song, highly varied in terms of sound and arrangement, which does have a verse and a chorus, but whose melodic lines are anything but easy or immediate, with a psychedelic streak more pronounced than ever — no longer light as it had been in the past, but strong and defining.

It follows that, in terms of the feelings conveyed, we're in uncomfortable territory, bringing into play unease, tension, dissatisfaction, discomfort. The album, as is often the case with The Charlatans, is quite varied, but a couple of the single's traits recur throughout every song: the melodies' lack of immediacy and a pervasive emotional negativity. In "A House Is Not A Home", for instance, the electric guitar is so intrusive that it becomes almost disturbing; "The Blonde Waltz" is certainly not the band's first semi-acoustic ballad, but here the sound is dusty and the arrangement — with the chorus punctuated by aggressive riffs, first from piano and then from guitar — is clearly geared towards bringing out the feelings mentioned above; "Senses (Angel On My Shoulder)" is occupied for a good half of its length solely by harmonica and piano, evoking a desert-like setting, and when the other instruments and the vocals arrive, they only heighten the sense of unease; "I Don't Care Where You Live" says it all right from the title. The only vaguely pop songs are "Impossible", also semi-acoustic but with an overall mood that's decidedly relaxed and easygoing, and "My Beautiful Friend", likewise steeped in a strong psychedelic touch but smooth and light on the whole.

The album peaks at number 2 on the charts, but for many fans it proves a bit too disorienting. Listened to again today, Us And Us Only still deserves appreciation, both because the songs themselves are all good, even if none of them rank among the band's very best — except, perhaps, "Forever" — and because the fact that such different songs share common traits once again gives the impression of a cohesive, unified record.

The band was now touring constantly around the world, and it was in Los Angeles that Tim Burgess met the woman who would become his wife. As a result, when he wasn't recording or on tour, Tim lived there, and he convinced the rest of the band to join him to record the next album. Burgess's idea was part of a bigger plan: to have his bandmates spend time in his new city of residence and soak up its lifestyle and culture, letting it influence the making of the record. Mark Collins joined the frontman before the others, and the two spent their time writing songs but also living the city to the full, cruising its wide boulevards by day and diving headlong into the nightlife, between clubs and gigs by local bands. When the others arrived, they did the same for a week before everyone shut themselves in the studio to record. A large number of local musicians contributed at various points, and so Burgess's goal was fully achieved: Wonderland, released in 2001, oozes Los Angeles from every pore. Quite a leap for a band who, until just a few years earlier, had been considered among the standard-bearers of Britpop.

The album is full of electronics, funky rhythms and effects-laden guitars, and it doesn't skimp on prominent female backing vocals, nor on moments where Tim Burgess himself sings in falsetto. It's a frenetic work, blending posh club atmospheres, futuristic gospel and post-modern rock, alternating with far more introspective moments that can reveal a tender fragility as much as a bleak despair. Compared to the previous album, the melodies are engaging and compelling again, and many of them are top-notch: the opening one-two of "You're So Pretty–We're So Pretty" and "Judas" is particularly representative of many of the traits outlined above, but it takes a listen to every track to fully reveal all the facets of the record.

The two opening songs, together with the following "Love Is The Key", are a perfect snapshot of what it means to live the frenzy of a city like Los Angeles. Then, suddenly, comes the softness of "A Man Needs To Be Told", reminding us that we're human beings and that sometimes the best nourishment for our souls is tenderness, affection and reassurance delivered in just the right way. But the carousel starts spinning again, with the soul-meets-disco of "I Just Can't Get Over Losing You" and the instrumental "The Bell And The Butterfly", itself frantic and restless, with a particularly dense, robust and layered sound.

In the closing stretch the waters calm down a little, in the sense that two of the final four songs are more introspective and another is gentler too: "And If I Fall" is an explicit plea for help and trust, "Is It In You?" shows a man at his lowest point; in between them, "Wake Up" is the sunniest track on the record, with the fullest, most enveloping sound of the whole album. It closes with "Ballad Of The Band", which brings us back to the album's most typical atmospheres, but seen in a different light — that of someone immersing themselves in it with ease, free of any sense of frenzy.

Wonderland is the most ambitious record of the Charlatans' entire career, and also one of their most successful: its enormous variety is conveyed flawlessly, and even today, many years on, many of its ideas still sound futuristic and in some ways ahead of the curve, anticipating the emergence of these West Coast atmospheres in the more current trends of the indie music scene and beyond.

The album reached number 2 on the charts once again, but from here on the Charlatans' popularity would start to decline and would never return to these heights, even though, to this day, the band's following around the world remains significant. Quality, too, would never again reach these peak levels, although, here too, good things would not be lacking. Unfortunately, the months following the release of Wonderland were marked by serious health problems for Tony Rogers, who was diagnosed with testicular cancer; fortunately, a successful operation put things right, and by 2002 the band was back playing live, even though Rogers had to undergo rounds of chemotherapy.

The hardest years, between label changes and a lack of inspiration

2002 was a compilation year for the Charlatans. Both a B-sides collection and a live album were released. Songs From The Other Side is a selection of B-sides from the 1990–1997 period, i.e. the Beggars Banquet years. All 16 songs are of good quality, and in the case of those tied to singles from the self-titled album, they could all have rightfully aspired to a place on that record, which, as we've seen, contains several tracks that fall short. The listen is interesting for another reason too: some of the tracks fully embrace the stylistic traits of their reference album, while others seem to act as a bridge to the previous one: this is the case — among others — of "Occupation H. Monster", which has something of both Some Friendly and Between 10th To 11th, of "Stir It Up", a link between Between 10th To 11th and Up To Our Hips, and of "Green Flashing Eyes", which merges the style of the album it's tied to with elements from the band's very earliest period.

Other tracks worth mentioning on the collection are "Happen To Die" and "Two Of Us", the former very close in quality to Between 10th To 11th and the latter bringing a nice lo-fi touch to the style of Tellin' Stories.

Live It Like You Love It features 14 songs recorded in Manchester in December 2001, so there are several tracks from Wonderland, but of course the great hits from the past are present too. The songs are very well recorded, and listening to the album you can perfectly grasp the Charlatans' strengths on stage, at least during that period: a Tim Burgess in excellent vocal form, a rhythm section that's consistently effective in every register it's called upon to express, and the great keyboard and guitar work that gives the sound substance, colour and dynamism.

In 2003, Tim Burgess released the first of his two solo albums, titled I Believe, on PIAS.

The sound is less polished and leaner than anything Tim had done with the Charlatans — both before and after — and at the same time there are sonic avenues Burgess explored only here, particularly in the way horns are used.

"I Believe In The Spirit" has a particularly captivating arrangement in the way it perfectly combines a large number of instruments without ever feeling cluttered — quite the opposite, coming across as fresh and easy to listen to; "Only A Boy" picks up the falsetto register of Wonderland over a simple, sparkling sound with a soul aftertaste and a highly inspired melody; "We All Need Love" is an equally simple ballad whose chorus lodges itself in your head on first listen and never leaves; "Years Ago" is a short, effective country track built on fingerpicking and slide guitar, and it's striking how perfectly Burgess's voice suits it.

The other songs are all at least satisfying, and the album is a pleasant listen, even though the issue of an overall lack of cohesion is more apparent here than ever.

2004 saw the Charlatans return with a new album, titled Up At the Lake, which would be their last under Universal. This is probably the most straightforward album of the band's entire career, both in terms of songwriting and of sound. Verses, choruses, instrumental interludes and nothing more, with no reaching for anything more complicated, and, as far as the sound goes, stripped-down instrumentation, no layering, no experimentation of any kind. At most there might be a few effects and filters here and there, as on "Feel The Pressure", but the most faithful representation of the album is its title track and opener: a steady rhythm, a straightforward guitar line accompanying an easy, immediate vocal melody, both in the verse and in the chorus.

As always, though, you can't say the songs are cut from the same cloth: "As I Watch You In Disbelief" draws on American tradition, "Cry Yourself To Sleep" is a ballad that plays on the interplay between guitars and piano, on a swelling crescendo and on vocal harmonies that carry real weight, while "Try Again Today" leans on softness and a particularly effective melody, especially in the chorus.

In short, the Charlatans are a band so seasoned that they manage to slip something interesting and unpredictable even into songs as unambitious as these. The album's problem is a compositional inspiration that's far from its peak: the songs are pleasant, and a couple of them — the title track and "Try Again Today" — are genuinely good, so the record earns a solid pass, but nothing more.

As mentioned, the band leaves Universal and signs with Sanctuary, still within major-label territory, and just two years later, in 2006, a new album arrives: Simpatico.

The album marks a return to a more detailed, ambitious sound, with a one-off in the band's history: several songs are clearly influenced by dub, a source of inspiration the band had never drawn on before and never would again. There are also more straightforwardly pop-rock songs, like the excellent single "Blackened Blue Eyes", which boasts a solid melody, a rhythm section with real drive, and a dense, dynamic, enveloping sound, and the other single "NYC (No Need To Stop)", which pairs a verse as linear as the tracks on Up At The Lake with a chorus that instead sounds lifted straight from the Wonderland sessions. Many songs are built on off-beat rhythms and, in some cases, keyboard sounds that nod to dub ("For Your Entertainment"), while others pair that same kind of rhythm with a rockier sound ("Dead Man's Eyes"). The album is still quite disorienting listening to it today: the songs themselves aren't badly made, in the sense that the dub influence described above doesn't feel like something glued on to the band's style for no reason, and the whole thing holds together and flows well. The problem is that, just as two years earlier, the melodic inspiration doesn't excel here either, and hearing a band with such a glorious past strip itself down to this degree leaves you a bit puzzled.

Alan McGee and the strengthening of the bond with the fans

These are hard years for Tim Burgess, because this time it's he who comes within a step of being swallowed up for good by drug addiction. As he'll later recount himself, he realizes it at the very last moment he could still save himself. In the meantime, he meets Alan McGee and understands he needs an experienced manager like him. Both of them start to grasp the potential of self-promotion online and on the social network that dominated at the time, MySpace. Out of this comes the idea of giving away the download of their next album for free, simply letting anyone who wants it click a link on a website — specifically that of the radio station XFM — without even having to leave an email address for future promotional messages.

Before that, there's just enough time for another compilation to come out, titled Forever. The Singles., a selection of singles released across the band's entire career. The selection feels a bit too focused on the hits from their commercially biggest period, i.e. from Tellin' Stories onward, and the fact that the first four albums get just one song each says a lot about how useful this compilation really is as a faithful portrait of the Charlatans' journey. One small plus is the presence of "Indian Rope", while the track that really should never have existed is a new version of "You're So Pretty, We're So Pretty", which is simply unpresentable.

You Cross My Path is the most unified album of the Charlatans' entire career, the kind where naming just one band — or rather one album — is enough to sum up all its influences. The band in question is an old love of Tim and co., New Order; the album, however, isn't from the '80s period that had helped inspire the group in its early days, but dates from a few years later: it's "Republic" (1993). The interplay and crisscrossing between the round, reassuring guitar sound — though also slightly shaded with darkness — and the icy keyboard tone, which paradoxically combine perfectly despite being theoretically at odds, the seductive melodies, the soft but present rhythm section that leans heavily on digital elements: all that's missing are the choruses with female backing vocals, and then you've got everything that defines "Republic".

The best thing about You Cross My Path is a melodic vein that hadn't shown up with this kind of consistency in quite a while: every song is solid, without exception. "Oh! Vanity" grabs the listener right away and gets the album off on the right foot, and the title track, placed midway through the tracklist, seems to pick up the same threads, almost splitting the record into a side A and side B like in the old days.

"Bad Days" is sly, gripping and full of life all at once; "Mis-Takes" has a hammond organ humming beneath the surface that echoes the band's most glorious past in a subtle way, yet one that catches the ear of an attentive listener; "The Misbegotten" and "Missing Beats (Of A Generation)" are the most electro tracks of the bunch, conjuring up the atmosphere of a dimly lit dancefloor where everyone gets swept along by the rhythm without caring who's around them; "A Day For Letting Go" and "My Name Is Despair" both slow the pace down at strategic points, but in different ways, the first evoking the urge to think positively in tough situations and the second conveying more pessimism instead; the two closing songs, "Bird" and "This Is The End", are the album's most serene and purely pop moment, with the former taking the crown as the record's best track thanks to a particularly beautiful melody and an interesting arrangement, with soft, almost shoegaze-like distortion that fits perfectly into an otherwise pristine sound.

An album like this always raises the question of whether it's worth more to appreciate the beauty of the songs themselves, or to dwell on the negative fact that it's too easy to spot what inspired them. In this case, this writer leans toward giving more weight to the album's positive aspects, mostly because it's genuinely pleasing that the Charlatans were still able, here, to deliver a run of songs whose melodies all stand up perfectly well on their own. The physical release of the album would come out several months after the free download, and this release marks the band's return to an independent label, namely Cooking Vynil.

In the months that followed, the professional relationship between Alan McGee and the Charlatans came to an end in rapid succession along with Tim Burgess's Los Angeles marriage, after which he moved back to live in England. The band nonetheless kept up the release pace of recent years, and in 2010 came Who We Touch, again for Cooking Vynil. The album marks a return to a level of variety not seen since the days of Wonderland, but with far less ambition. The songs are all fairly simple and, at the same time, quite uneven. In its favor, just as two years earlier, the melodic inspiration is at more than decent levels, making for a very enjoyable listen. This is especially true of the first three songs: "Love Is Ending" is rock, lo-fi and almost chaotic, a description you don't usually find attached to a Charlatans song, and its aggression is carried effectively by just such a compelling melody; "My Foolish Pride" ranks among the band's most pop and serene tracks, with a lovely arrangement that moves naturally from a piano-led verse to a chorus where the guitar takes over, backed nicely by strings; "Your Pure Soul" is soft and sweetly melancholic, and comes across as particularly expressive and engaging.

There's no shortage of more intensely dark moments, like "Smash The System" and "Intimacy", and other tracks revisit the traits of the songs mentioned above at a slightly lower level of quality, for instance the aggression of "Sincerity" or the pop serenity of "Trust In Desire".

It's not easy for a band this active to put out an eleventh album without any missteps and with a few standout tracks. Who We Touch, then, deserves top marks, because it gives us a group of musicians who, after twenty years, are still producing art in the most genuine sense of the word. You can say a lot of things about the Charlatans, but you certainly can't label them as mere survivors. Unfortunately, the months following the album's release plunge the band back into tragedy, as Jon Brookes is diagnosed with a brain tumor.

After a 2011 marked by the release of the EP Warm Sounds, on which six of the band's songs from different eras are reworked in acoustic form (an interesting idea on paper, but one that doesn't produce a particularly noteworthy result), in 2012 Tim Burgess publishes his own autobiography, "Telling Stories", and, more importantly, his second solo album, written in collaboration with Kurt Wagner and titled Oh No I Love You. As was the case nine years earlier, the impression is that almost none of his solo songs would really work for the band's repertoire either. There are, in fact, at least three basic traits that set this work apart from his output with the Charlatans: more open and pronounced melodies, a lighter touch in both sound and vocals, and a variety of arrangements that lead the author to explore certain stylistic territory in greater depth — territory that's set aside or only timidly approached within the band.

Burgess juggles soul leanings ("White", "The Great Outdoor, Bitches") alongside hints of Americana ("The Doors Of Them", "The Gaduate"), a blend of the two ("The Economy"), a slowcore aftertaste ("A Case For Vynil", "Tobacco Fields", "A Gain"), and West Side Story-style atmospheres ("Hours"), all held together by a pop component that tries to act as the glue.

Coming to the actual assessment, there are both positive and negative sides. On the plus side, the average quality of the songs is more than satisfying, with an artist who shows he hasn't yet exhausted his compositional vein after all these years of activity, and who is still able to find the right key to engage credibly and effectively with different stylistic attitudes. On the minus side - once again - there's an overly disjointed development of the record as a whole: in particular, the three long slowcore-leaning tracks feel out of step with the style of the other songs. Either way, by now we've understood that, with Tim as with the Charlatans, the rule always holds that first and foremost a good song is a good song, and the ones on this record are all exactly that.

The death of Jon Brookes and a grand-scale comeback

In 2013, Jon Brookes finally lost his battle with cancer and died in August. The four surviving members were deeply affected by the loss of such an important member of the band, both musically and personally, but they decided not to be discouraged and to react. A few months later they organized a charity concert in Jon's honour, with a huge number of guests eager to pay tribute to a hugely talented musician and a person loved by everyone. A supergroup made up of Tim Burgess and New Order drummer Stephen Morris, James Walbourn of the Pretenders, Freddie Cowan and Arnie Arnason of the Vaccines, Winston Marshall of Mumford & Sons; James Dean Bradfield; Liam Gallagher with a couple of other Beady Eye members and Bonehead, Oasis's longtime rhythm guitarist, the dj-sets between sets by the Chemical Brothers and of course the Charlatans themselves, with Pete Salisbury of the Verve. These were the various moments of an evening that undoubtedly paid tribute to Jon Brookes in the best possible way, and probably made it clear to the others that the right move was not to stop, but to carry on.

So, in January 2015, Modern Nature arrived, with another label change and a return to a major (BMG). All told, the Charlatans had been absent from the record market for close to five years, which might seem understandable given Tim's described distractions and the loss of Jon Brookes. Listening to this album, though, a third explanation also comes to mind: the Charlatans took a long time to make it simply because, once again, they decided to reinvent themselves and present a sound they'd never tried before.

The rhythm section has obviously changed a great deal, given the loss of the drummer's distinctive stylistic personality, and here it comes across as extremely smooth; it should be said that whoever replaced Brookes (Pete Salisbury of the Verve and Stephen Morris of New Order) certainly didn't just go through the motions, but crafted a rhythmic accompaniment that's remarkably alive and almost possessed of its own expressiveness. The heart of this record's sound still lies in the interplay between guitar and keyboards, which has always made the Charlatans' style recognizable through all its many transformations. It's certainly not easy to pick up on first listen, precisely because of an attitude that's entirely new for the band, who present themselves here in a velvety, almost posh guise, with the vibrations of a postmodern sound settling gently onto an imaginary plane and stretching out very slowly, giving the impression of deliberately seeking calm at the expense of sonic intensity. Underneath it all, though, the hammond organ runs are still those of the golden years - even though the keyboard player changed many years ago too - Mark Collins's guitar touch is still tinged with classic rock, and the way the two instruments chase each other, drawing close and pulling apart in countless different ways, is still what immediately tells the attentive listener they're dealing with a Charlatans record.

After a very long time, the band also succeeds in bringing a good variety from one song to the next. The general traits described above are present in every song, but each one puts its own spin on them. "Talking In Tones" is a quiet opener, evoking the feeling of a reluctant waking-up, before the track spontaneously flows into "So Oh", which is instead the airiest and most upbeat song on the record. Throughout this work, different kinds of feelings alternate, between songs more geared towards positivity, or negativity, or ones that are more emotionally neutral. The nice thing is that none of these different feelings is ever expressed in the same way, since the songs vary in melodic breadth, sonic robustness, and the differing weight given to melody and sound themselves. "Come Home" is upbeat, with a full sound and a fairly immediate melody, whereas "Keep Enough" is more ethereal and elusive; on the other hand, we have an "Emilie" that's negative in terms of the feelings it conveys but with a decidedly lively rhythm, and "I Need You To Know", which is the most powerful-sounding track on the record.

Even the emotionally neutral songs shift shape: "Tall Grass" is round and relaxed, "Trouble Understanding" returns to a robust sound, and the closing "Lot To Say" is instead lighter, bringing back a greater melodic immediacy. It's worth repeating that nothing described here is taken to extremes - everything is well measured, while still giving an impression of spontaneity. This last point is one of the record's strengths, together with the use of melodies, which serve the sound and manage to convey its feelings. Usually, in pop music, this ends up being a problem, but here it comes across as the most fitting choice for the overall effect of the record.

Modern Nature is a record that needs to be listened to carefully and many times over, because on first approach it might simply seem like a melancholy album with simple production; instead, with every listen it reveals a far more complex and layered nature, and it certainly ranks among the Charlatans' finest works. Maybe not among the top three - that podium is by now reserved for Some Friendly, Between 10th And 11th and Tellin' Stories - but among the best five or six, without question.

After 25 years of activity and everything that's happened, that's no small thing.

Just two years later came Different Days, which features a number of high-profile guests, not only on drums, where the late Jon Brookes was never officially replaced and the band relied on the services of Pete Salisbury (Verve) and Stephen Morris (New Order), exactly as on the previous album. Here there are also figures of the calibre of Paul Weller and Johnny Marr, plus a long list of contributors, including Gillian Gilbert of New Order themselves, Kurt Wagner and Anton Newcombe of the Brian Jonestown Massacre. The sound picks up the moods of the previous record and broadens its expressive range. The atmospheres of these new songs are always autumnal and shadowy, never pushing too hard on the accelerator, and Tim Burgess's vocal timbre suits this sonic guise, which the band evidently enjoyed and clearly continue to enjoy a great deal. It opens with the electro-acoustic vein of the opening "Hey Sunrise", continues with a melodically enigmatic "Solutions" that benefits from a dynamic arrangement thanks to the way additional keyboards appear and vanish over a bed of sound built on the classic use of the organ. The title track starts out serene, again thanks to the keyboards, but the further it goes, the more the guitars - first acoustic, then electric - bring out tensions that were initially dormant; the single "Plastic Machinery" is the most purely rock song the Charlatans have produced in a long time. The record is very successful. By now, the songwriting is no longer as immediately winning as it once was, and it takes a few listens to appreciate melodies that aren't instantly catchy but that know how to work their way into the listener's mind after a few spins; the sound and the arrangements are extremely elegant, obsessively crafted, and able to let the listener truly breathe in the intended atmospheres; Tim Burgess's voice is emotive and effective, and each time it captures in the best possible way the particular vibrations of the individual songs.

The following album, We Are Love (2025), released on BMG and produced by Blood Orange, is simply a hymn to love and reflects the band's current sound. It's the result of a personal balance and a stylistic maturity still held up by the interplay of guitar and keyboards and by Burgess's trademark voice, but one that now leans on melody and on the softness of the sound. Worth praising is the opening "Kingdom Of Ours", with a bass line and effects-laden vocal up front, followed by the rhythm section and a swelling chorus that turns into an anthem as it rises in pitch. An intense, energetic track, the best possible start. It continues with "We Are Love", a driving track in which the guitars weave interlocking lines in the style of Johnny Marr, while the chorus recalls the latest work of Ride, a band close to Burgess. The song is the clearest possible way of expressing the idea that we are made of love, and in a world full of cynicism, that's what we need to cling to in order to survive.

"Many A Day A Heartache" is the Britpop track, with a chord progression reminiscent of Oasis and minor-key tension giving backbone to the refrain. The interplay between the hammond organ and the devastating guitars gives rise to a thrilling track.

Then, though, the artist's own expectations come into play, and the album shifts speed and intensity: "For The Girls" is a delicate ballad dominated by melody and a folk-rock groove in which the organ calls the shots. Pleasant but not especially engaging. The slow pace of "You Can't Push The River", with its off-beat riff and its big-ballad melody, lowers the energy level even further. "Deeper And Deeper" sits halfway between an already-heard pop-rock and the most predictable kind of Britpop, with a weak chorus that fails to grab. The album then continues pleasantly, without ever reaching the level of the first three songs.

So one comes away from the listen somewhat disappointed, aware that the Charlatans are now this, and that even so we're still at a high level. And besides, in this work it's the message that matters: the time has come to bet on love, and the job of a sixty-year-old musician is to remind the young of that.

Ultimately, the Charlatans seem to have found the right stylistic coordinates to keep their melodic and performative inspiration running high, and to make records with evident passion. This new identity, built around a fixed core and a fine group of collaborators, increasingly seems capable of delivering great satisfaction, both for them and for listeners.

The stories about the band's life are drawn from: Tim Burgess – "Telling Stories" (Viking, 2012, 233pp)

Contributions by Luigi Zampi ("We Are Love")

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