It took The Verve to lift pop music out of its candy-coated summer doldrums and bring it soaring above the hot air and bluster. Never mind MMMBop, and disregard D'You Know What I Mean? This summer's ecstatic anthem is a string-drenched tune called Bitter Sweet Symphony, and its melody has shone through the usual dross which clogs up the already overheated airwaves.
The single went to No two in the UK, and has already become an indie classic, capturing a mood which has been simmering underneath the heavy, humid clouds, and bursting through the haze like a shaft of healing sunlight. The orchestral melody sweeps you up in its linear slipstream, and the defiant drone of Richard Ashcroft's voice articulates that innate individuality which smoulders beneath our homogenised lives. It's a lullaby for the techno generation, a soothing tune to calm the nervous tic of the soul.
It almost didn't happen. Just a year-anda-half ago, the four-piece band from Wigan were no longer in existence, and things looked bitter for Richard Ashcroft, Nick McCabe, Simon Jones and Pete Salisbury.
They had just released their second album, A Northern Soul, to critical acclaim, and they were enjoying the admiration and endorsement of their peers in the British pop industry. Richard Ashcroft had also become a cult idol, and was regarded in Britpop circles as a wayward genius; Noel Gallagher had even dedicated his song, Cast No Shadow, to the tall, temperamental singer.
Suddenly however, Ashcroft decided, in true Ziggy Stardust style, that he had to break up the band. Reasons remain unclear, but it was generally agreed that drugs, depression and disagreements within the band were involved. Oasis was about to release (What's The Story) Morning Glory?, and assume the Britpop monarchy; The Verve, meanwhile, slipped away into the shadows, and some felt that they had abdicated their rightful claim to the throne.
Nearly two years later, however, Richard Ashcroft suddenly appears out of nowhere on a London street corner. He raises his head, stares resolutely in front of him, and, as the orchestral strains begin, starts walking along the street, stepping aside for no one in his singular quest to keep to a straight path. The video for Bitter Sweet Symphony was a simple, attention-grabbing scenario, and it not only underlined Ashcroft's renewed sense of purpose, it also saw him walking confidently back into the crowded pop scene, bloody-minded and unbowed.
The resurrection of The Verve began when three of the original band members reconvened with new member Simon Tong, and began looking for a new lead guitarist to replace Nick McCabe, prompting rumours that Ashcroft had disbanded The Verve as an excuse to get rid of McCabe, with whom he had been having the most conflict.
The band asked John Squire to join, and he said "no"; they asked Bernard Butler to join, and he said "maybe", but then changed his mind after a few rehearsals. Finally, Ashcroft swallowed his celebrated pride and phoned Nick McCabe, the first time they'd spoken since the band broke up.
The rest is Symphony, and now revitalised, The Verve are ready to release their next single, the aptly-titled Drugs Don't Work. Perhaps they're trying to tell us something. In the bittersweet world of The Verve, it seems that life is the new drug of choice.
The Verve play the SFX on Friday August 22nd. Drugs Don't Work is out on September 1st on Hut Records.
