él Records

No other independent record label – not Alan McGee’s Creation, Ivo Watts-Russell’s 4AD, Andrew Loog Oldham’s Immediate, or even Berry Gordy’s Motown – revolved so comprehensively around the vision and philosophy of its founder as él Records and Mike Alway.

Briefly the manager of Robyn Hitchcock’s The Soft Boys, Alway had previously been head of A&R at Cherry Red, transforming the label from a largely distribution setup into a distinct imprint in its own right via signings such as The Monochrome Set and Young Marble Giants, and masterminding the classic 1982 compilation Pillows & Prayers. Alway then co-founded Blanco Y Negro with Rough Trade’s Geoff Travis, but, disillusioned with the reality of operating within the purse strings of a major, he wanted full autonomy when it came to his next venture.

Inspired by afternoons spent watching VHS recordings of cult 60s TV shows The Avengers and The Prisoner in the basement room he was renting from Ben Watt of Everything But the Girl’s parents, Alway launched él Records as a living embodiment of his own refined cultural tastes. 

At odds with how labels were run at the time, independent or otherwise, Alway saw himself more like a 1960s impresario and svengali than someone who signed artists they liked and thought might sell a few records — not so much taking a hands-on approach as wielding complete control over every aspect of the label’s output, from the artwork right down to choosing the song titles. 

“In order to keep within the conceptual boundary of the project, artists would be ‘cast’ rather than ‘found’ and attired accordingly,” Always explained in the sleevenotes to 2025 compilation The Rubens Room: él Records In Camera. “Nothing would be imposed, but mutually agreed.”

As such, singles and albums were seen less as standalone releases and more as part of Alway’s ongoing artistic vision.

“With Blanco Y Negro the attitude of the groups was very “me me me” and career-orientated,” Alway told the writer Mark Goodall. “With él, I was always very clear - this is an experiment, a collaboration between us. This is not your career, let’s have some fun, let’s see what happens and we will create a bit of art.”

The label’s name, taken from a film by Spanish-Mexican director Luis Buñuel, was a signpost of Alway’s cinephile obsessions that would permeate both the music and visual presentation of él releases, the latter shaped with the help of photographers Nick Wesolowski and Pete Moss, and designer Jim Phelan. Unlike say, Rough Trade or Mute, Alway envisioned él as a cross between Andy Warhol’s Factory and the Brill Building, with a core team of artists on the label writing, arranging and producing for other signings and serving the creative whole. Nicholas Currie (recording on él as Momus), Philippe Auclair (aka Louis Philippe), Dean ‘Speedwell’ Brodrick, and producer Richard Preston would be key in making sure everything on él was consistent with Alway’s vision.

él has been called “the most innately English record label there has ever been,” yet there was far more of an internationalist flavour to its collision of retro pop sounds, film, fashion and graphic design. Exotica, bossa nova, easy listening, Italian film scores and French yé-yé were all part of the mix alongside 60s bubblegum and chamber pop.

Resolutely anti-rockist (Alway discouraged his artists from touring or even performing live) and entirely un-macho, él envisioned “a pop world beyond leather jackets and jeans” and the label’s commitment to elegance and beauty over the vulgarity of guitar noise and 80s production polish created releases of a delicate sensitivity that made the decade’s most celebrated indie aesthetes The Smiths seem like a gang of brutish ruffians.

The experiment only lasted four years, yet the likes of Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, Saint Etienne’s Bob Stanley and Belle & Sebastian’s Stuart Murdoch were clearly listening and watching intently, and él became a cult phenomenon in Japan, its aesthetics and ideals having a profound effect on the shibuya-kei scene in the 90s that included Pizzicato Five, Kahimi Karie and Cornelius.

For further reading, do investigate Mark Goodall’s book, Bright Young Things: The Art and Philosophy of él Records, while the aforementioned The Rubens Room: él Records In Camera is a wonderful introduction to Alway’s singular world, compiled by the man himself. él was revived in 2005 as a reissues label, but here are ten select long-playing highlights from the label’s original run.

Chris Catchpole

Cadaquez

Marden Hill
Cadaquez cover

Named after Salvador Dalí’s Catalonian retreat — in itself, a very él Records thing to do — Marden Hill’s debut album whisks you away to a world of jet setting European sophistication. Initially called Sixty Minute Man before label boss Mike Alway objected the name was “too butch,” Marden Hill curated an impeccable blend of lounge, film soundtracks, baroque 60s pop, cool jazz, surf and easy listening that was both in thrall to the past and way ahead of its time. Cadaquez’s collage of retro grooves and textures would have a huge influence on the sound later explored on the group’s future homes Mo’ Wax and Acid Jazz, and the record was a cult smash in Japan, becoming a key influence on the Shibuya-kei scene in the 1990s.

Me and a Monkey on the Moon

Felt
Me and a Monkey on the Moon cover

The culmination of Lawrence’s ten albums in ten years then split-up manifesto, Me and the Monkey on the Moon might be the most heartfelt record in the perennial outsider’s oeuvre. The opaque lyrical imagery of past Felt releases is here replaced by more openly autobiographical songs. Lawrence is not only looking back at his own life and childhood but also saying goodbye to the band, having resolutely failed in his ambition to become a massive pop star. As such, Me and the Monkey on the Moon is steeped in an autumnal feeling of bittersweet regret. Initial musical foil Maurice Deebank had departed by 1988’s The Pictorial Jackson Review. Instead, keyboardist and future Primal Scream member Martin Duffy lends a rich, sympathetic warmth to these songs with layer upon layer of piano and organ, his retro synthesizer squelches on “Mobile Shack” no doubt planting the seeds for Lawrence’s future novelty pop vehicle Go Kart Mozart. Felt’s swansong and possibly their greatest work.

Not Born Beautiful

Shock Headed Peters
Not Born Beautiful cover

It’s ironic that the first album released on él Records was perhaps the record most out of step with Mark Alway’s meticulously curated aesthetic. Formed by former Lemon Kittens singer Karl Blake, Shock Headed Peters had been one of Alway’s pet projects towards the end of his time at Blanco Y Negro and he took them with him for his new venture. “We didn’t really fit into what became the él ‘house style’,” remembers guitarist Dave Knight. “We wanted to be as heavy as Black Sabbath and as crooningly unnerving as Scott Walker.” Not Born Beautiful’s shock-art assault of doomy melodrama and heavy noise may have been at odds with the fey romanticism of Shock Headed Peters’ labelmates, but it makes for a uniquely arresting listen. Not least on the peerless rockabilly ode to same-sex love “I, Bloodbrother Be,” and “Bad Samaritans,” a glowering ambient/industrial thunderstorm which suggests Walker himself may have been a fan.

Ivory Tower

Louis Philippe
Ivory Tower cover

French-born Philippe Auclair was the in-house producer and writer for él Records and his arrangements and songs were a crucial part of the label’s output. Adaptable to él boss Mike Alway’s demands — Brill Building pop, smooth jazz, French classical, a cappella vocal arrangements and 60s pastiches were all in his wheelhouse, and he proved adept at writing songs to order out of titles Alway threw at him — as Louis Philippe, Auclair released two albums on the label, the second of which, Ivory Tower, is arguably his masterpiece. Opening with a sumptuous cover of lost Brian Wilson composition “I Guess I’m Dumb,” its 14 songs each showboat his skillset, urbane countertenor and a level of pop sophistication arguably at the time matched only by Prefab Sprout’s Paddy McAloon.

Royal Bastard

The King of Luxembourg
Royal Bastard cover

A former child actor, teenage pop prodigy and composer of avant-garde soundtracks for filmmaker Derek Jarman (also recommended: his score for Jarman’s 1986 film Caravaggio), Simon Fisher Turner enjoyed a parallel life on él Records as foppish dandy The King Of Luxembourg. Having been in show business with varying levels of success for most of his life (he was also briefly in The The with Matt Johnson), Turner threw himself into the make-believe world created for him by él’s Mike Alway, selecting his new musical persona from a list of characters presented by Alway and dressing up in a full suit of armour. 

Turner also chose the songs that made up debut LP Royal Bastard from a longlist of covers suggested by Alway. Paired with Turner’s wispish cut-glass vocals and Louis Philippe’s baroque arrangements (bass guitar had been banned from the sessions for reason unclear, so bass clarinet features prominently) they made for an inspired combination that frequently on paper really shouldn’t work: The Television Personalities’ “Picture Of Dorian Grey;” “Valleri” by The Monkees; and most radically “Poptones” by Public Image Limited, in which Lydon, Wobble and Levene’s excoriating post punk is transformed into a beautiful pastoral escape. Follow-up Sir, with most of the material written by Turner, is equally magnificent.

Circus Maximus

Momus
Circus Maximus cover

Nicholas Currie wrote material for other acts signed to él Records and his own Momus project was one of the guiding lights for the label’s pre-Raphaelite approach to pop. Self-consciously intellectual, Currie took his recording name from the Greek god of satire. His first album on él, Circus Maximus began with the working title Momus Sings The Old Testament To The New Instrumentals, and alongside classic philosophers Plato and Socrates, the songs are crammed with references to John The Baptist, King Solomon and Saint Sebastian, the Christian martyr whom Currie is depicted as in the painting on the album’s sleeve, stripped to the waist and riddled with arrows.

Recorded on a four track with minimal use of synth augmenting Currie’s voice and guitar, the album’s acoustic singer-songwriter stylings were firmly out of step with the prevailing trends of the time. You can hear Donovan in his mannered annunciation, Leonard Cohen in the poetic fatalism and classical allusions of the lyrics, and in Currie’s deft fingerpicking, Nick Drake – very much not the regularly cited touchstone in the mid 80s that he is now. Worth seeking out, the CD edition also features a wonderfully droll update of Jacques Brel’s “Jacky,” titled “Nicky.”

Choirboys Gas

Bad Dream Fancy Dress
Choirboys Gas cover

A quintessential él Records release. Label boss Mike Alway offered Essex teenagers Cat Rees and Cally Davis a deal without actually hearing them sing (“oh that doesn’t matter” he reportedly reasoned), and paired them with his in-house writing and production talent. What followed was a knowing, yet joyful collision of bubblegum pastiches pulled together with a magpie DIY punk attitude. The pair’s singing occasionally veers towards caterwauling, but the songs are fantastic, running the gamut of girl group sounds. You can imagine the reggae-tinged “Lemon Tart” being an actual chart hit in the hands of Bananarama; “Curry Crazy” (food is a big fixture here) is a Day-Glo punk thrash that sounds like The Go-Go’s in space (“we don’t want boys, we want some spicy stuff!”); the sparse “Discotheque” lands closer to Talking Heads or Liquid Liquid than the Shangri-Las; while “Leigh-On-Sea” is a gorgeous Erik Satie-inspired reflection of life in a British seaside town.

The Camera Loves Me

Would-Be-Goods
The Camera Loves Me cover

Mike Alway met then 18-year-old Jessica Griffin backstage at a Monochrome Set show in 1983, and while his initial idea was to manufacture a group around Griffin and her sister Miranda, it soon became apparent that was she was a talented singer and songwriter who needed little direction to fit into él Records’ world.  “All I did was suggest a few song titles and get [in house photographer] Nick Wesolowski to take a few photographs,” he later recalled. Backed by uncredited members of The Monochrome Set, the vibe on debut LP The Camera Loves Me is breezy and stylish – François Hardy visiting Swinging London and taking a stroll through Regent’s Park. With references to high society photographer Cecil Beaton, cream cakes and cult 60s film The Girl on a Motorcycle, the album has been cited as a key inspiration for the “twee” indie pop epitomised by Sarah Records, but for its occasional archness, Griffin’s writing is too astute, the arrangements too sophisticated for The Camera Loves Me to fall into mannered cutesiness.

Thames Valley Leather Club and Other Stories

Always
Thames Valley Leather Club and Other Stories cover

The journalist Rob Fitzpatrick described él Records as “the most innately English record label there has ever been.” And while this does a disservice to the clear European and international influence evident in both the label’s sound and visual aesthetic, one could certainly describe the sole album from singer and songwriter Kevin Wright as one of the most innately English records there has ever been. Released under the nom de plume Always, 1988’s Thames Valley Leisure Club and Other Stories is a wistfully melancholic study of suburban ennui, Wright observing like a commuter belt Lou Reed as he wanders past chiming spires of gently jangling guitars. Wright’s voice has a Lloyd Cole like warble to it, but more often – particularly on the magnificent, shimmering “Amateur Detection” – Always feels like a South East England reflection of Midlands idealists Felt.

Westminster Affair

The Monochrome Set
Westminster Affair cover

While they released very little on the label, The Monochrome Set were central to él Records’ world. Having worked with them on Cherry Red and Blanco Y Negro, Mike Alway was infatuated with the group, and their wry 60s-influenced pop set the template for much of what Alway would put on his next label. Monochrome Set members contributed to and wrote material for él recordings such as The Would-Be-Good’s The Camera Loves Me, and drummer Nick Wesolowski took many of the photographs that defined the label’s visual aesthetic. However, chief songwriter Bid was too strong willed to bend to someone else’s artistic vision as was often required with Alway and él (see also Lawrence from Felt, who would release one LP on él, 1989’s Me and a Monkey on the Moon). Presented as the soundtrack to a film that didn’t actually exist, Westminster Affair was in fact a compilation of songs largely already available elsewhere. Regardless, the selection is superb, with tracks like “The Jet Set Junta” feeling like they should have been recorded for él, even if they actually weren’t.