Delta are just one of the bands emerging from the revitalised and rejuvenated music scene in Birmingham. Alyson finds out what's going on.

BIRMINGHAM, 1987: In a city still reeling from the shock rise to fame of crap pop merchants Duran Duran, grebo wasters PWEI, and only the Wonderstuff left to fly the flag, the future looks bleak.

Birmingham, February 1997: 10 years on, and there’s a new awakening of the City that seemed destined to remain handcuffed to a musical cadaver only a year or two back. Is this a new era for Birmingham’s music scene, and more importantly, is the city ready for a new Brum beat?

“It’s got to be a new era for Birmingham, yeah”, says Bird, fiddling with a cigarette paper. “And we’re part of it, whatever it is”.

I’ve been hanging around the Odeon, waiting for Delta to turn up, and contemplating how strange and ugly the city is from an outsider’s perspective - only a Brummie could love this place. But it’s beautiful on the inside. From the bright blue Custard Factory, housing the Crown Jewels of the City, to Plastic Factory, the Mecca of the Midlands. There’s a new side to Birmingham opening up from inside, made up of Laxtons Superb, Sneaker Pimps, Broadcast, Novak, and here and now, Delta.

It’s been very difficult to write this article, because it’s not about Chris Evans’ cherished Ocean Colour Scene, although I’m fully aware that an article on the ‘Kings of the Birmingham Scene’ would be more relevant to more people. But it wouldn’t be true to what is happening in the City.

In short, it’s about the fantastic club scene, the excellent new bands, and the new cultural changes causing rumbles in Birmingham.

Anyway, I digress; after getting a copy of Delta’s ‘Make it Right’ single last year I was immediately hooked by the raw edges to the sound and the croaky, cigarette-fucked voice of James. The band are a 5-piece: James, the singer/guitarist, Bird, the drummer, bassist Fiz, and Robert (lead Guitar) and Patrick, (singer/bass guitarist), both of whom are absent today.

Delta still live in Moseley, and haven’t been tempted to move out to London, although Fiz, (‘only one zed’, says Bird) admits it might help being in London. Bird says: “You just need to play there a lot, really. I don’t think any of the big bands around at the moment are born and bred in London. But it’s true there’s a better response from audiences in London; there seem to be a lot more people willing to go to gigs, certainly.

“The Jug of Ale and the Flapper and Firkin are the only two venues for small bands at the moment. There’s the Foundry, but it’s horrible. People go to Wolverhampton for a medium sized venue, but you can’t get back...well, you can get a late train, but you get into Brum at midnight, so,...” “Yeah”, interrupts James, “but you’ve still got to be known before you play those places. If you’re nobody, then I still think the Jug is the main one in the whole of the Midlands. It’s got a good reputation. You’ve still got record labels putting their new bands on tour, and the Jug is always one of the ones they play, wherever they’re from, you know. Oasis played there, a lot of bands - Baby Bird, Pulp were down there once with about 10 people.

OK. Time for a proper question. I feel like I should be asking something far more challenging and provocative... so, erm.. what are your influences then? “Um... influences... I dunno... what did you come up with last night, Birdy? You knew you were going to get asked this!” laughs James. Bird grins. “Everything from Bo Diddley to Beck, except that’s not very far”, he says, and starts to draw wet beer circles on the table.

“If you think of it as a circle, they almost join up they’re so far apart.”

“I guess we all grew up through the post-punk, new wave thing. It must have had an influence somewhere - I know it has on Robert and myself,” muses James. “I’m not too worried about influences: you pick up great rock records, great rap... you know, the best thing to do is to not worry about it. Concentrate on the songs, that’s the be-all and end all, as far as I’m concerned.”

Ocean Colour Scene have just broken big, and seem to be the epitome of Birmingham music, to outside audiences at any rate. How do Delta feel about that, and the Birmingham Music Scene?

“I still get ticked off”, says James. “I just don’t think two bands who think the Beatles are great can make that much of a scene. Anyone who has got any musical sense at all realises the Beatles are great, and just cos we live in Moseley... I dunno, it’s just a bit tenuous, as far as I’m concerned. We know them vaguely, think they are alright, there’s nothing more than that going on. We get interviews in London and they want us to just go ‘respect to Ocean Colour Scene, thanks to Ocean Colour scene for putting us on the map’, but they never, they’re alright, but they never.

“I don’t think there’s as much of a scene as there is perceived to be. The Birmingham music scene is Ocean Colour Scene and their mates, and the Jug of Ale and who hangs round at the Jug of Ale, and that’s it. It’s not as incestuous as it’s made out to be. No-one’s that matey between bands, though there’s exceptions, I suppose.”

Fiz agrees “I just think its A band, (OCS) and all of a sudden, just because they’ve been so big last year, Moseley’s become something in people’s perceptions.”

“Well it is”, says James, “cos most of the people who are in bands go there, but musically, I don’t think it is particularly. It’s just where people who play music go, really. This sixties revival-Moseley-Paul Weller thing - if that’s there, we’re probably just a bit over there”, he says, indicating a medium sized distance between the table and his finger.

Delta released a couple of singles on a small independent label, Dishy and then signed to Acid Jazz Records. But things have gone a bit quiet since then. Bird admits that something went wrong with the deal, but is reticent to pinpoint exactly what happened. “On Dishy, we were putting out records when Guy, (Dishy boss), could afford it. But then we signed to Acid Jazz and left ‘em without doing anything.

“And now we’re looking for a deal. We fell out with Acid Jazz in a big way”. Fiz cuts in: “We didn’t really fall out, it’s just a case of they didn’t seem to be doing anything for us, and nothing seemed to be happening, so...” James interrupts: “That was only just before Christmas, and now we’re back into doing gigs, trying to blag a deal.”

Bird says “When you haven’t got a deal, it’s a bit of a drag. At least if you’re gigging 3 or 4 nights a week, you’re keeping yourself amused and keeping the music together.

“We can be a great live band given the chance. After a week of doing live gigs we are a great live band, just a gig every now and again and we’re an unpredictable band. Very unpredictable. To the point of completely fucking up on a couple of occasions.”

Delta played Phoenix last year, and I missed them because I went to see another band on the Guardian stage. I haven’t stopped kicking myself for that crap decision just yet.

“Phoenix was interesting...ish. Apart from Kula Shaker, and one or two others, nobody had heard of anyone else on our stage”, says James. Bird cuts in with something I don’t quite catch on tape but ends with ‘...Broadcast as well, which was amusing’, and they all laugh.

“Chest played the same stage at Phoenix -they’re our nemesis really.

“They’re a Leeds band, I don’t know whether you know them? Well, they complained about our behaviour, did they not? They started a fight on us, then complained about us.”

“No,” corrects James, “One of their mates started a fight on us, let’s not blame them.”

The fact that Delta played last year’s Phoenix and V96 festivals, and continue to get reviews and headline gigs in London, even though they haven’t released a record in nearly two years, gives you an idea of how much this band mean, in terms of their music, and their determination.

Bird speaks for the rest of the band when he talks about the need to move off the dole, to stop being broke all the time, to make the band financially viable.

“We need a bit of indulging, we need a deal, you know, to make the music better, to make our lifestyle better, the wherewithal to actually make a good album. Plus I’d like to make a living out of the band rather than anything else - it’s a creative thing”.

James tells me afterwards that they’ll give it another year to make the band work, and then that’s it. A final cut-off point. Finis.

Writing this article has been difficult because I can’t describe Delta’s sound for you, or tell you what I find so delicious in the way James’ grainy voice clashes with the swelling, swirling guitars and Bird’s drumming, keeping the whole thing on a dark, deep fucking unpredictable keel. I want you to give them one chance, one listen, because they are a beautiful band.

Because they stand for many things that I know and love about this city, and many things I dislike.

Because they only really relax and begin to articulate their thoughts, hopes and pseudo-philosophies when I turn the tape recorder off and I’m itching to remember everything they say, but can’t.

Because this is happening now, and this is happening right under your feet, in the middle of your city, where you live, or work, or wander round doing nothing much all day.

Or possibly I want you to listen to them merely because as I step out onto the pavements, blinking in the bright sunshine, I realise I feel excited for the first time in ages.

Delat were talking to Alyson, in March 1997.