Uckfield, 1984. A humdrum market town in Sussex. If you’re under 18 years old the main things to do if you haven’t got a girlfriend are (1) hang out by the Natwest Bank, (2) skateboard around the library car park, (3) go to the kebab house and (4) indulge in underage drinking in the Maiden’s Head. And (5) fight. Lots of fighting.
There are only two youth subcultures left in town. Skins, mods, rockers and hippies are long gone. In the red corner there are ‘the casuals’. They have wedge haircuts, Lois jumbo cords*, Pringle jumpers and earcuffs. They carry around rolls of off-cut kitchen lino and skulk by the post office. The track of choice on the ol’ boombox is Break Dance Party** by Break Machine.
In the blue corner, the ‘Psychos’. This is a diminution of ‘psychedelic punk’ and is a catch all term for anyone in a long raincoat and pointed shoes. ‘Psychos’ range from quite perky jock types to bookish Smiths fans and spotty punk oiks. There’s a guy we call Captain Arsehole who no-one seems to know anything about apart from the fact he wears a Victorian army tunic and likes Gary Numan. There’s a tough nut punk in a dress who generally doesn’t get any trouble on account of being nails.
The casuals always carry a portable Sanyo cassette player as they bodypop down the street. A particularly spotty punk oik takes objection to the wall to wall Break Dance Party. Don’t you know Thatcher is literally destroying the country? We’ll call him ‘Andy Mount’. Andy Mount buys Crass’s sweary single Sheep Farming In The Falklands, with its hilarious Thatcher impression. Andy’s dad is not that impressed, and has confiscated the single (but not before Andy has taped it). Andy’s repost to the break dance party is to carry his own boombox up and down Uckfield high street regaling bemused shoppers with Crass, Conflict and The Subhumans.
Later that year, Andy will disappear for 5 days. His dad is at his wit’s end. He turns up in Bradford. He’s been following New Model Army on tour. “I believe in justice. I believe in vengeance. I believe in getting the bastards, getting the bastards, getting the bastards now.”
That’s what Cassette Recorder is about. The song samples The Cure’s “The Holy Hour” (beloved of the raincoat brigade, including me) against an Arthur Baker inspired pop-electro backing driven by that marvellous invention, the Roland TR-808.
*As of 2025 I now own several pairs of these
** In retrospect, this slice of electro pop which accompanies a break-dancing film isn’t authentic as such-like, say Afrika Bambaataa- but actually it is pretty good