Goldie, Bananarama, and boat trips with the Spice Girls: the hedonistic madness of 90s label London Records is being revisited in a new podcast. From synthpop to drum'n'bass, the company had a roster of edgy stars and let them do what they wanted. As Hit That Perfect Beat – The London Records Story launches, artists and staff remember the extreme work environment.
A Label Born from Decca's Ashes
Originally part of Decca Records, home to the Rolling Stones, London Records began a new chapter after Decca was acquired by Polygram in 1980. It operated as an independent label with major label distribution. Ex-managing director Colin Bell recalls: "We were put in there to develop it into a pop label. We were obsessed with being cool. We wanted to be easily identifiable for a generation of young people. We wanted pop that had an edge."
Early Success and Symbolic Signings
London had early success with Blancmange and Bananarama, but landing Bronski Beat in 1984 was a turning point. Bell, who is gay, says: "They exploded right across the world. We were the only label in town prepared to market them exactly as they were. We were not going to try and tell them, 'Let's hide the gay thing.'"
A Hodgepodge of Genres
While many labels forge an identity around a genre, London was more eclectic. It had several imprints, notably the dance label FFRR headed by Pete Tong. By the 1990s, they were home to Orbital, East 17, All Saints, Menswear, Dani Minogue, Utah Saints, and Shakespears Sister. Bell explains: "We were a company of hits." Pete Tong adds: "The mentality was to sign cool records that you thought could be successful. But it was always left-leaning pop – pop with attitude. We didn't sign Take That, we signed East 17. We didn't sign Spice Girls, we signed All Saints."
Chart Hyping and Hedonism
In 1991, London was fined £50,000 by the British Phonographic Industry for chart hyping. Terry Farley of Boy's Own recalls: "Me and Andy Weatherall used to go out on record-hyping missions for them. I remember buying Bananarama singles. But that wasn't unique to London, every record company was involved in it." After Factory records went bust in 1992, London acquired their catalogue, including New Order and Happy Mondays. During the CD sales peak, money poured in, and the atmosphere became increasingly hedonistic.
Inside the Madness
Author John Niven worked at London Records from 1994 to 1997 and later wrote Kill Your Friends, a dark satire of the music industry. He says: "I was simultaneously fascinated and horrified by it. To come into this culture, where the artists were, at best, tolerated, and at worst regarded as an impediment, was a real eye opener." He recalls that meetings at other labels were like "doing cannabis and mushrooms in a summer meadow compared to the crack den that was London Records."
Creative Freedom
Despite the excess, many artists speak of a label that was hard-working and generous. Marcella Detroit of Shakespears Sister says: "They got things done. They worked us very hard but they made things happen." Paul Hartnoll of Orbital recalls: "For a band like us, who were making neurodivergent music for neurodivergent people within dance music, to be left to do what the hell you want, was incredible." Sara Dallin of Bananarama says: "People probably thought, 'Oh there's three girls, so you've probably got some svengali behind them.' But we knew what we wanted, and we pushed to get what we wanted."
Goldie's Opus and Missed Opportunities
Goldie signed to FFRR for his breakthrough album Timeless in 1995. His 1998 follow-up Saturnz Return featured an hour-long opening track, Mother. The unveiling at the label offices became a scene in Kill Your Friends. Goldie says: "Was it the most criticised work I've ever done? Yes. Was he right? Yes. But did I make my opus? I did." Niven recalls a missed opportunity: "Some guys came into the office in 1994 trying to talk to us about how the internet was going to change our business but we couldn't comprehend it. We found out later, over redundancy drinks, that it was Yahoo."
The End of an Era
At the end of the 1990s, Polygram was sold, key staff left, and Bell recalls that "the magic had gone." The label dried up in the 2000s, but the 90s remain London's peak years. Pete Tong says: "Getting a job in the record business was like getting a job in Hollywood." Goldie adds: "England was exploding musically in a way it hadn't since punk. It really was the stuff of legend."
