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Goldie says his eyes started flickering at the mere mention of London Records, describing the label as the equivalent of Studio 54—a nightclub masquerading as a record company. ‘It looked normal from the outside, shiny with nice cars, but inside it was the craziest, most hedonistic madness,’ he recalls.

A new six-part podcast, Hit That Perfect Beat – The London Records Story, explores the label’s colorful history. Originally part of Decca Records, home to the Rolling Stones, London became an independent label with major distribution after Polygram acquired Decca in 1980. Former managing director Colin Bell says they were tasked with developing it into a pop label with edge, obsessed with being cool and identifiable to young people.

The label also became notorious for its party culture. When one artist was asked about his memories, he replied via email: ‘London Records in the 90s? COCAINE.’

London had early success with Blancmange and Bananarama, but signing Bronski Beat in 1984 marked a turning point. Bell, who is gay, says it was symbolically important because the label was the only one willing to market the band ‘exactly as they were’ without hiding the gay theme.

Unlike many labels defined by a single genre, London was a hodgepodge of imprints, notably the dance label FFRR headed by Pete Tong. By the 1990s, its roster included Orbital, East 17, All Saints, Menswear, Dannii Minogue, Utah Saints and Shakespears Sister. Bell says the common thread was ‘hits’—the company was driven by success.

Tong echoes that sentiment, saying the mentality was to sign cool, left-leaning pop with attitude. ‘We didn’t sign Take That, we signed East 17. We didn’t sign Spice Girls, we signed All Saints. Not that we didn’t try to sign the Spice Girls…’ London’s attempt to sign the Spice Girls reportedly ended badly when the label took them on a boat trip down the Thames and accidentally left their manager behind.

Tony Mortimer of East 17 says being on a label with both pop and dance credentials allowed the band to enjoy the best of both worlds. ‘We were a boyband but still in NME and Melody Maker. It was a very cool label to be on. And we had access to amazing mixes by people like Danny Tenaglia.’

London’s hit-driven ethos was occasionally undermined by illicit practices. In 1991, the British Phonographic Industry fined the label £50,000 for chart hyping—sending people to buy records of their artists. Terry Farley, part of the acid house crew Boy’s Own, confirms he and Andy Weatherall went on hyping missions, including buying Bananarama singles. ‘But that wasn’t unique to London; every record company was involved,’ Farley says.

After Factory Records went bankrupt in 1992, London absorbed its catalogue, including New Order and Happy Mondays, adding to an already eclectic roster. During the peak of CD sales, money poured in and the culture grew increasingly hedonistic.

Author John Niven, who worked at London from 1994 to 1997, says the culture—ruthlessness, ego and excess—inspired his debut novel Kill Your Friends, a dark satire of the music industry. ‘I was fascinated and horrified. Artists were tolerated at best, regarded as an impediment at worst,’ Niven recalls. Former London bosses did not respond to questions about Niven’s description of the culture or alleged drug use.

After leaving for another label, Niven realized how extreme London was. ‘Having meetings at other companies was like doing cannabis and mushrooms in a summer meadow compared to the crack den that was London Records. If you didn’t know your shit, you would get crucified in a London meeting. It was extreme but kind of fun.’

Goldie signed to FFRR in 1995 for his breakthrough album Timeless. He recalls parking his car sideways across two bays, bringing his pitbull terrier into Pete Tong’s office, and throwing a cassette on the table. ‘The dog went first, got on the chair, then I sat next to him. I said, “You need to sign that.”‘ Goldie says he signed because Tong sat through the 21-minute title track without murmuring.

Many describe the label as hard-working and generous despite its hunger for success. Marcella Detroit of Shakespears Sister says, ‘They got things done. They worked us very hard but made things happen.’ Paul Hartnoll of Orbital, signed to a seven-album deal, calls it a dream: ‘For a band making neurodivergent music for neurodivergent people within dance music, to be left alone was incredible.’

Sara Dallin of Bananarama says the trio had proper autonomy. ‘People thought there must be a svengali behind three girls, but we knew what we wanted. It was: this is what we’re doing, this is what we’re wearing, this is who we want to work with.’

Goldie epitomizes the label’s creative licence. His 1998 album Saturnz Return opened with ‘Mother,’ an hour-long track. The unveiling at the label office became a scene in Kill Your Friends: ‘People cross and recross their legs, sip wine and pray for it to end. But it doesn’t.’ Goldie laughed maniacally when reading that scene, nearly getting thrown off a British Airways flight. ‘Was it the most criticized work? Yes. Was he right? Yes. But I made my opus. Niven’s book reminded me how egotistical record company people are, and how artists believe their cause is the only one.’

Big egos may have made the company blinkered. Niven recalls visitors in 1994 trying to explain how the internet would change the music business. ‘We couldn’t comprehend it; thought the guy was out of his mind and kicked them out.’ Those people were seeking investment for a start-up. ‘We found out later, over redundancy drinks, that it was Yahoo. Had we put £50,000 into Yahoo in 1994 instead of making the second Menswear album, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

At the end of the 1990s, London’s parent company Polygram was sold, key staff left, and Bell says ‘the magic had gone.’ The label dried up in the 2000s, though it still reissues anniversary releases by Goldie, Bananarama, and Happy Mondays. The 1990s remain London’s peak years, which Tong calls ‘a golden age. Getting a job in the record business was like getting a job in Hollywood.’

Goldie, now calm, echoes that sentiment. ‘As a record company, it was positioned at a time when everything was at a crossroads. England was exploding musically in a way it hadn’t since punk. It really was the stuff of legend.’

Hit That Perfect Beat – The London Records Podcast is available now.

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“summary”: “Podcast explores London Records’ 90s hedonism, hit-driven ethos, and legacy with artists like Goldie and Bananarama.”
}