If you can picture a definitive grunge box set without Nirvana, or a definitive Afrobeat box set without Fela Kuti, you can see the conundrum that faces Millions Like Us: The Story of the Mod Revival 1977-1989. The four-disc box set is being released this month by Cherry Red Records, and overall, it’s a winning collection that digs up dozens of rare songs from bands like Purple Hearts and Secret Affair, who injected the energy of '77 punk into the neat, sharp, soulful rock of mid-'60s Small Faces and the Who. But the box is conspicuously missing the one group that, above all others, defined and popularized the post-punk mod revival: The Jam.
The Jam weren’t simply the most successful mod-revival band, they were one of the most popular bands of the post-punk era in their native England. It wasn’t until the Jam’s third album, 1978’s All Mod Cons, that the British mod revival erupted in earnest, fueled by kids who were more interested in partying than politics. The Jam’s fiery frontman Paul Weller, however, did write political songs, and scathing ones at that—which leaves many of the band on Millions Like Us looking defanged by comparison. For the most part, the songs on the box set are concerned with many of the same themes as the genre’s close cousin, power-pop: sex, drugs, adolescent alienation, and a deeply profound impulse to dance (which also happen to be central tropes of the film version of the Who’s Quadrophenia, which came out in 1979 and helped codify the mod revival). There’s no better example of that than "D-a-a-ance", a 1980 single by the peppy, scooter-happy outfit the Lambrettas. Not only is it one of the box set’s most impeccably catchy tracks, it’s an anthem for every teenager, current or former, who’s ever felt the bittersweet twist of sexual urgency.
"Just Another Teenage Anthem" hits the nail even more squarely on the head. A 1977 single by the short-lived band the New Hearts, it’s the earliest song on Millions Like Us, released during the height of the punk explosion in England. But two years before the mod revival truly hit, its mod roots are obvious: chiming guitars, '60s harmonies, and a wry, snarling cleverness. Members of the New Hearts went on to form Secret Affair, a pivotal mod-revival group whose 1979 single "Time for Action" (a high point of the box set) incorporated organs, horns, and a crisp attack that trimmed punk’s messy edges. "We hate the punk elite," sings frontman Ian Page, and while in hindsight that seems like silly infighting, it marks a counterrevolution every bit as important as that of the artier post-punk bands of the time. Like post-punk, the mod revival had a problem with punk’s unrelenting whiteness—and it followed the Jam’s lead by drawing more and more from '60s soul as it went along, a parallel to what 2-Tone groups like the Specials were doing with '60s ska.
When the Jam broke up in 1982, the mod revival was already waning. But Weller’s Style Council—a partnership with keyboardist Mick Talbot, whose first band Merton Parkas appear on Millions Like Us with 1979’s charmingly clunky "Plastic Smile"—inspired a more sophisticated breed of mod band. The remainder of the decade saw the revival splinter into some interesting fragments, all of which are represented on Millions Like Us. From the bubbly, Northern-soul stomp of Makin’ Time’s 1985 song "Here Is My Number" (featuring bassist Martin Blunt, years before he’d resurface in Charlatans U.K.) to the proto-acid-jazz of James Taylor Quartet’s 1987 single "Blow Up" (a cover of Quincy Jones’ soundtrack classic sampled by Dee-Lite in "Groove Is in the Heart"), the box set smoothly shows the way the mod revival progressed throughout the '80s, even as it fell entirely off the mainstream radar in England. That said, Blunt isn’t the only musician featured on Millions Like Us who would go on to bigger things: Mark Hollis of the Reactions went on to lead Talk Talk, and Shane MacGowan, later of the Pogues, fronted the Nips. A notable omission along these lines, though, are Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith, whose stellar early-'80s mod band Graduate predated Tears for Fears—not that a trace of Tears for Fears’ stadium-sized rock can be heard.
The mod revival reached backward to the heyday of British cultural dominance in the '60s, but it also served as a bridge to Britpop in the '90s, not to mention influencing everyone from Belle and Sebastian to Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. Still, the genre feels like a closed loop, especially as it’s presented on Millions Like Us. The title of the box set—taken from the Purple Hearts’ infectious, 1979 rallying cry—paints a portrait of some massive youth insurgency, but mod never lived up to those ambitions. That only makes the bands therein, and their songs of desperate hope and catharsis, that much more admirable. The Jam’s music may have been a little too pricey to license for Millions Like Us, but in this case, the underdogs are all right.