Dave Ball (2019 Interview)

Dave Ball (photo: Mike Evans)

On 9 February 2019, I had my one and only conversation with Soft Cell’s Dave Ball. The intention was to use this in a project I was working on at the time that ultimately never got finished.

On the sad occasion of Ball’s passing, I decided to revisit the conversation. I remember it was a Saturday afternoon, and took place during the halftime break of a football match he was watching on television. This was before I regularly used video conferencing for music interviews and so I just called the mobile number that his PR contact had passed over to me.

On Frank Tovey and Leeds Polytechnic

I knew Frank Tovey before he started Fad Gadget. He was a student at Leeds Poly. I was in the first year and he was in the third year. This was 1977, when I joined.

The new kids used to hang out with the older students, and I remember Frank being a performance artist and very intense guy. He was southern, from London, and there was a North-South divide among the students. That really pissed him off. I used to see him around Leeds Poly a lot. There was one performance he did called Berg, which I can vaguely remember going along to watch.

There was a small recording room at Leeds Poly. It was mostly designed for people that studied performance art to make soundtracks. Before I got a synthesiser, I used to muck about in there with a guitar and an echo chamber. And one day I was in there and there was an Crumar Compac electric piano. I thought, ‘Fucking hell, I’m going to have a fiddle around with it,’ and I put it through my effects pedals and recorded some bits and then put the piano back to how I’d found it.

Frank heard what I’d been doing and said, ‘Where did you get that keyboard sound from?’ And I said, “Oh, it was from this electric piano that was in the studio.’ And he said, ‘That’s my keyboard! You never fucking asked me if you could use it!’ He hated me for a while because of that. We didn’t really hit it off, and I imagine it was was because I’d used his electric piano.

He was probably the reason I bought a synthesiser because I thought, ‘I won’t bother using his one again!’ It pricked up my ears to messing about with electronic music.

On performance art and the origins of Soft Cell

Leeds Poly was very encouraging of people who wanted to do performance art as opposed to acting. Quite a lot of the lecturers there did performance art. I don’t know what you would call it – it was radically different theatre, using your bodies as art, almost like living human sculptures. I mean, I was never that much interested in it.

I started working with Marc Almond at Leeds just after I got my synthesiser. He’d heard me doing these bleeps and sounds, and he asked me if I do some music to go with his performances. And so, originally, I was just doing the sounds for Marc’s performance art pieces, and then that evolved into Soft Cell.

It was mostly just sounds. There were a few songs in these early performances of Marc’s. I was writing these funny little quirky songs at the time. Marc heard some, and he said, ‘Can I have a go at singing some of these?’ And I said, ‘Yeah. Why not?’

This developed, and it sounded much better with him singing than me. I wasn’t a singer. And then he said, ‘Can I write some lyrics? Some new ones?’ And I said, ‘Of course,’ so then the relationship developed as a writing partnership. And then we talked about calling it something, and it became Soft Cell. It was The Soft Cell, originally, but we decided to drop The.

On his first synth

It was a Mini Korg 800DV. I still have it. I got it just after I’d started at Leeds Poly.

Before I got it, it had belonged to the drummer out of the band Jethro Tull. It’s quite ironic, really, because Marc’s been working with Ian Anderson, the singer from Jethro Tull. I grew up in Blackpool, and Ian’s also from Blackpool. That’s where I found the synthesiser, in a music shop in Blackpool.

It cost me £400 second-hand, which was a lot of money. My dad had just died and I’d been left some money. Originally I’d played guitar but I wasn’t very good, but then I heard Kraftwerk, so I did a part exchange for this synth with my Fender Telecaster guitar. I lugged it back to Leeds and it was a it was a permanent feature in the little sound recording room. I mastered how to use that synth over the next few weeks.

On Mute Records

Apart from seeing Frank’s performance of Berg, the next thing I remember about him was a post-punk college band, and he was the singer. I can’t remember the name. There was a few of them in the band, and they were mostly the London students. They did a couple of shows. They weren’t that good. I remember saying to Frank before he went on, ‘Are you nervous?’ And he just glared at me and said, ‘Fuck off!’

Marc kept in touch with him. After he’d left Leeds, we heard that he’d put a record out with this new label called Mute. This was ‘Back To Nature’. Marc and I heard that and thought it was brilliant.

There used to be a punk club in Leeds called The Warehouse, where loads of really amazing bands used to play and I saw tons of stuff there. Frank did a gig as Fad Gadget. He’d totally gone away from the New Wave band he’d been singing with at Leeds. He had his keyboard, and he was wearing what looked like a karate outfit. He had this microphone which was plugged into a length of grey plastic drain pipe. He was shouting into it and he was jumping up and down on his keyboard and throwing himself around. He was like an electronic Iggy Pop. He was quite wiry, and tall, and sinewy, so he was very agile, and very fit. And that was a great performance. That was one of his first gigs in Leeds as Fad Gadget. It was the only time I ever saw him live.

Marc had given Frank a Soft Cell demo, and asked if he could pass it on to Daniel Miller at Mute. We’d heard his single as The Normal, and then we’d heard ‘Back To Nature’. He did ‘Ricky’s Hand’ with Frank, and then Daniel had done the Silicon Teens album. We thought, ‘This guy sounds fantastic!’

It was just before Depeche Mode signed to Mute. So we said to Some Bizarre, who we were working with, ‘Can we get Daniel to produce Soft Cell?’ And because of that we did end up working with Daniel. We did ‘Memorabilia’, our first proper single, with Daniel. And the original demo of ‘Tainted Love’ was done with him. We did a load of backing tracks with with him for our live shows at the time, which people probably didn’t know he’d worked on with us.

When we signed to Phonogram, they decided they wanted to get a different producer in, which was Mike Thorne. Daniel was great, but I think he was a bit too techno for us at the time, with the benefit of hindsight. His style was suited to Depeche Mode with that sequenced techno-pop sound. Whereas with Soft Cell, it was still meant to sound like a group – it was just a group that was made up from synthesisers.

I don’t know – our sound was, I don’t like using the word, but more organic. The Human League were using Roland Micro Composer. Daniel was using an ARP sequencer. They were very machine-driven productions. We used a drum machine, but I just used to have to play it as tight as possible. You can hear it. It’s very tight, but I still had to play it by hand. It’s like having a bass player playing the bass, but instead of playing a guitar, they’re playing the bass on the keyboard, and still using their hands.

In memory of Dave Ball, 3 May 1959 – 22 October 2025.

With thanks to Debbie, Barbara and Paul.

Interview: Mat Smith

(c) 2019 – 2025 Documentary Evidence

Mute 4.0: Silicon Teens – Music For Parties (Mute album, 1980)

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As part of Mute‘s fortieth ‘anti-versary’, the label is making available very special limited edition vinyl versions of selected releases from their four decades of releasing and curating incredible music. To celebrate this element of Mute 4.0, we’re re-posting reviews of those special albums from the depths of the Documentary Evidence archives. Full details on the releases can be found here.

After launching Mute Records with his single ‘TVOD / Warm Leatherette’ as The Normal, few would have expected Daniel Miller‘s next musical move to be an album of (mostly) covers of old rock ‘n’ roll songs. But, then again, if you believed the liner notes Music For Parties by Silicon Teens wasn’t by Daniel Miller at all. Rather, the album was made by Paul (percussion), Diane (synthesizer), Jacki (synthesizer) and Daryl (vocals) and produced by Larry Least (a pseudonym Miller would use again as a producer for Missing Scientists and Alex Fergusson). Eric Hine and Eric Radcliffe provided engineering duties for the LP, half of which was recorded at Radcliffe’s Blackwing studio in London, the location for many early Mute recording sessions.

Not having been aware of Daniel Miller, Mute or anything much when this was released (I was four years old), I’m not sure if anyone was suckered in by the ruse at the time – by the time I fell in love with Mute in 1991, the secret (if it ever was one) was already out; Biba Kopf’s Documentary Evidence pamphlet made it completely clear that Silicon Teens was the work of one man and one man alone: Daniel Miller. Apparently, at the time, actors playing the fake quartet would be deployed for interviews. A promotional photo for the group, taken by Simone Grant, included two people whose names are now lost to the mists of time standing in for Diane and Jackie, with Miller and Fad Gadget’s Frank Tovey taking the roles of Daryl and Paul, all four sporting some very Velvet Underground shades.

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Anyone familiar with ‘Daryl’s particular brand of singing (nasal, a definite punk-informed delivery) would detect that this was a Miller project from the first lines of opener ‘Memphis Tennessee’; anyone familiar with his electronics work before and after would spot his unique synth work in the chirpy sounds and harsh dissonant interruptions. Anyone who didn’t, but was listening closely to the lyrics of one of the four Miller compositions here, ‘TV Playtime’, may have finally got the connection with the line ‘TV OD, video breakdown‘ delivered in a wobbly voice during one section of that track, while behind the watery voice malfunctioning synths not dissimilar to those deployed on Fad Gadget’s ‘Ricky’s Hand’ flutter and bleep.

To my shame, I only bought this in 2011, though I had bought the album’s three main 7″ singles years before that. I picked up a CD copy of the album from Rough Trade East and happened upon it in the ‘punk’ section; I scoffed at first, until I remembered that when I’d played the version of ‘Memphis Tennessee’ to my dad – an avowed Chuck Berry fan – he screwed his face up in disgust, as if the generally polite sounds of Miller’s version were somehow abrasive on the ears or that making an electronic facsimile copy of a rock ‘n’ roll track was like sacrificing a holy cow; it’s how I’d seen footage of people in punk documentaries reacting to the Sex Pistols, so perhaps Music For Parties was punk after all. Certainly, in ‘TV Playtime’ there is a dimension which evokes the uncompromising sound of Suicide and in turn the pre-Dare sound of Human League at their most uncompromising.

One of my favourite tracks here is Miller’s take on The Kinks’ ‘You Really Got Me’, where the proto-punk / garage rock central riff is replaced with a buzzing synth delivered over a simple motorik beat. If this had been released as a single it could potentially have been chart-bothering, compared with the slightly more bouncy ‘Just Like Eddie’ which apparently did reasonably well as a single. ‘Do Wah Diddy’ and ‘Do You Love Me’ again are brilliant; these were two tracks that I absolutely detested as a child when they cropped up on radio. The latter is frankly among the most manically joyous songs I own, even if it doesn’t start out that way. The album version of ‘Let’s Dance’ sounds like Depeche Mode‘s ‘Photographic’ in its Some Bizarre Album incarnation; like Soft Cell did with their 12″ version of ‘Tainted Love’ mixed with ‘Where Did Our Love Go?’, you almost long for someone to hitch the Teens and Mode tracks together. Irrespective, it’s very danceable, with some quite tasty big fat synth notes as well. The Ramones also covered ‘Let’s Dance’ for their début; when rendered on Ramones as amphetamine-fuelled speed-punk it made complete sense alongside their own ‘Beat On The Brat’, ‘Sheena Is A Punk Rocker’ and ‘Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue’; here too, as a piece of high-energy synthpop, it likewise makes complete sense and the link to The Ramones’ version comes in as Miller snarls the ‘1, 2, 3, 4‘ intro.

Aside from the abrasive ‘TV Playtime’, Miller also contributes three other compositions to Music For Parties. ‘Chip ‘n Roll’ is an insanely upbeat synth pop gem, lots of handclaps and hissing hi-hats, as well as a gloriously twee main riff. It’s like Martin Gore‘s ‘Big Muff’ only way more poppy. ‘State Of Shock (Part Two)’ begs the question as to whether the Mute archives will ever turn up, or indeed if there ever was, a part one; this is a clanking, vaguely dark instrumental track with a stuttering rhythm and some squelchy sounds muttering away in the background. I’m not entirely what party you’d play this at; probably some dark, moody place where you’d be as likely to hear Kraftwerk nestled up alongside Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire. Miller’s ‘Sun Flight’, originally a B-side to the ‘Just Like Eddie’ 7” and included here as a bonus track, is again reasonably dark and mysterious, the distorted chorus intonation of ‘Come to the sun‘ and some snatched radio conversation sounding like a course of action filled will danger, even if the main keyboard riff is singularly both captivating and entirely of its time.

Would an album like this ever get released today? Hardly likely. Music For Parties taps into a sense of kitsch excitement surrounding the relatively (then) untapped potential of the synth in a pop context. Prior to this, and other albums released at around the same time, the synth was mostly deployed by po-faced Progsters with lavish budgets to spend on huge modular synth behemoths. Music For Parties‘ most punk achievement was to take these songs from yesteryear, remodel them as cheeky pop tunes and inject some tradition-baiting lightheartedness.

For Mute 4.0, Music For Parties is being reissued as a vinyl LP.

First posted 2011; edited 2018. With thanks to Simone Grant.

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(c) 2018 Mat Smith / Documentary Evidence

Cold War Night Life presents Non-Stop Electronic Cabaret (The Islington, London 29.09.2018)

If you’re remotely interested in electronic music you must have been asleep under a rock to have missed the Soft Cell activities that have been happening this year – a huge box set, a singles collection and a tour.

Ahead of Marc Almond and Dave Ball’s final London date, Simon Helm’s Cold War Night Life website have curated a very special event in Islington under the wonderful title Non-Stop Electronic Cabaret on September 29, 2018.

The event brings together all-too-easily overlooked Canadian synth duo Rational Youth (whose debut album begat Helm’s site its name), fellow Canadian moody electronic act Psyche and Sweden’s Page – to the best of my knowledge the only synth group to openly claim to be directly influenced by Daniel Miller’s cheeky short-lived fake group Silicon Teens.

Discerning electronic music fans can get tickets via Billetto.

Venue: The Islington, Tolpuddle Street, N1 (Angel Tube)
Date: Saturday, 29 September 2018
Times: doors at 7:00 pm, first band on stage at 7:30 pm, ends at 11:00 pm
Tickets: £15 plus agency fee through Billetto
Ages: 18+

(c) 2018 Mat Smith / Documentary Evidence