“Just mentioning London Records makes my eyes flicker,” Goldie shares, reflecting on his experiences with the label. “If a nightclub were to become a record label, it would have been London Records. From the outside, it appeared to be a typical record company—glossy with an array of luxurious cars—but inside, it was a whirlwind of hedonistic excitement.”
A new podcast titled “Hit That Perfect Beat – The London Records Story” explores the vibrant legacy of this label. Initially part of Decca Records, a label associated with legendary acts like the Rolling Stones, London Records transitioned into an independent entity with major distribution following Decca’s acquisition by Polygram in 1980. Colin Bell, the former managing director who played a crucial role alongside Roger Ames and Tracy Bennet, reflects, “We were tasked with transforming it into a pop label. Our obsession was to be perceived as cool, to connect with a youthful audience, and to create pop music that had an edge.”
The label quickly gained a reputation for its wild lifestyle. When I contacted an artist from that era for their reflections, I received a blunt response: “London Records in the 90s? COCAINE.”
London Records achieved early success with bands like Blancmange and Bananarama, but it was the signing of Bronski Beat in 1984 that marked a significant turning point for the label, according to Bell. “This was when we truly established ourselves as a legitimate entity,” he states. “They took off globally.” For Bell, who identifies as gay, signing Bronski Beat was particularly meaningful. “We were the only label willing to promote them authentically, without trying to conceal their identity.”
Whereas other labels often focused on a specific genre, London Records embraced a diverse array of musical styles. It featured various sub-labels, including the dance-oriented FFRR, led by Pete Tong. By the 1990s, the label’s roster included Orbital, East 17, All Saints, Menswear, Dani Minogue, Utah Saints, and Shakespears Sister. “What unified us was hits,” Bell states succinctly. “We were a company that thrived on chart success.”
Pete Tong supports this view, stating, “The goal was to sign innovative records with the potential for success. Our focus was always on pop with an edge. We chose East 17 over Take That and went for All Saints instead of the Spice Girls. Not that we didn’t attempt to sign the Spice Girls…” However, their efforts were complicated when they inadvertently left the girl group’s manager behind during a Thames boat trip. Ultimately, Tong emphasizes, “We consistently ended up with acts that were slightly unconventional.”
For Tony Mortimer of East 17, being part of a label that encompassed both pop and dance music meant they could enjoy a unique position. “We were a boy band but still featured in NME and Melody Maker,” he reflects. “It was a very cool label to be associated with, and we had access to incredible mixes from legends like Danny Tenaglia.”
While London Records enjoyed success, it also became embroiled in questionable practices that contributed to its achievements. In 1991, the British Phonographic Industry fined the label £50,000 for chart hyping, which involved encouraging fans to purchase their artists’ records. Terry Farley, a member of the acid house collective Boy’s Own, who later established an imprint at London, confirms that such practices were widespread. “Andy Weatherall and I often went out to hype records for them,” he recalls. “I remember buying Bananarama singles, but this was a common practice across the industry.”
Following the collapse of Factory Records in 1992, London Records absorbed their catalog, including iconic acts like New Order and Happy Mondays, further diversifying its already eclectic lineup. During the peak of CD sales, the label’s atmosphere became increasingly indulgent.
Author John Niven, who worked at London Records from 1994 to 1997, described the culture he encountered as cutthroat and excessively indulgent, which eventually inspired his debut novel, “Kill Your Friends,” a dark satire of the music industry. “I was both fascinated and appalled by what I saw,” Niven recalls. “The artists were, at best, merely tolerated, and at worst, viewed as obstacles.” (Former executives from London Records did not respond to inquiries regarding Niven’s portrayal of the company culture or the rumored drug use during the 1990s.)
After leaving for another label, Niven realized just how wild London had been. “Attending meetings at other companies felt like a relaxing day in a summer meadow compared to the chaotic atmosphere at London Records,” he says. “If you didn’t know your material inside out, you would be torn apart in a meeting there. It was extreme, yet somehow exhilarating.”
Goldie, who signed with FFRR to release his acclaimed album “Timeless” in 1995, recalls his initial meeting vividly. “I parked my car sideways across two spaces and, with my Pitbull terrier, I walked into Pete Tong’s office. The dog jumped on the chair first, and then I sat next to it. I dropped my cassette on the table and said, ‘You need to sign this.’” Goldie attentively watched Tong’s reaction as he played the album’s lengthy title track. “The fact that Pete listened for 21 minutes without saying a word was why I decided to sign,” he explains.
Many artists remember London Records as a hardworking and generous label, despite its intense drive for success. “They were efficient and made things happen,” says Marcella Detroit of Shakespears Sister. Paul Hartnoll of Orbital, who secured a remarkable seven-album deal, reminisces about the label fondly. “It was a dream scenario for us, creating music that was truly unique.”
