THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: SEVEN SHIRTS

Football shirts in the late 1990s described a sartorial nightmare, and this was as true in Italy as anywhere else. That grey and black horizontally striped 'third shirt' that Ronaldo wore for Inter. Juventus away, in which they won their last European Cup. Fiorentina jerseys sponsored by Nintendo, made by Fila. Parma in yellow and blue hoops. If they had fitted, that would have been something. Instead, they flapped about like an artisan’s smock.

One of the reasons for this was the rise of football as a global phenomenon, promulgated by the theatre of Italia '90. Hitherto, replica shirts had been aimed primarily at kids; hooligans didn’t tend to wear them for fear of attracting the wrong sort of attention. All of a sudden, football was cool, and the fashion at that time was for loose fitting clothes. Companies that had only a passing association with the game, such as Puma, Reebok and Nike, decided that they’d like a piece of the action, which obliged more established firms, such as Adidas, Diadora and Kappa, to adopt more adventurous strategies. Nothing wrong with this from a business point of view, but fashion is not the same thing as good taste. Ergo, as football became more popular, the shirts became more ostentatious.

Up until the early 1980s, they hadn’t been ostentatious enough. What changed was the introduction of polyester and the right for clubs to bear commercial sponsors. It is counter-intuitive that things like this could make a difference, but they did. Something else: back then, club badges and manufacturers’ emblems were sewn on, rather than printed, dye-sublimated or ironed, which gave the shirts a tactility that belied their true value. As well as all that, they fitted properly, were invariably V-necked, and had collars.

Here are some of the finest examples.
 

INTERNAZIONALE, 1988-89

When Uhlsport took over from Le Coq Sportif in 1988, not much about Inter’s shirt changed: the sponsor remained the same, the club’s crest, the number of vertical stripes. What did change – aside from the manufacturer’s insignia and – was the textile: polyester in place of acrylic. This had an effect on the shade of blue, making it lighter, but it also allowed Uhlsport to radically overhaul the away shirt, which was white, installing a band of alternating blue and black rhomboids printed across the front of the shirt (the same motif would be adopted by the club generally, adorning flags and tickets).

The uppercase font of the sponsor, MISURA, is a delight, as are the two red dots that form part of it. The collar is simple, sleek and in harmony with the V-shaped neckline. Finally, Inter’s now defunct biscione ensign, with the gold star above, and Uhlsport’s logo, a black stylised letter U set against a white square with a red border. It was probably cheap to make but didn’t look it. How much of this was by design is another matter.

 
 
 

SAMPDORIA, 1988-90

 

Sampdoria’s shirt rarely fails to deliver, but Kappa’s effort towards the end of the 1980s is the best of the lot. (Ennerre’s wasn’t bad either.) Oddly, what sets it apart, aside from the sinuous neckline and collar, is the italicised typeface of the sponsor, ERG. Everything else about it is routine. It has to be because there’s so much going on: the red, white and black horizontal stripes, the stemma San Giorgio at its centre, the manufacturer’s trademark. Maybe this is why in 1981 Ennerre decided to move the club’s crest to the left sleeve – to tidy it up a bit. At any rate, in doing so they made room for the coccarda, reward for winning the Coppa Italia. Sampdoria lifted the trophy in 1988 and again in 1989, so this particular jersey was never without it.

ASICS took over from Kappa in 1990 and barely changed a thing. They did, however, use a thinner material, which had the effect of altering the colour slightly, making it a touch lighter. 

NAPOLI, 1988-90

The jersey in which Napoli won their first ever scudetto is regarded as one of football’s greatest, but on closer inspection it can be found wanting. The sponsor, Buitoni, certainly looks the business, but the material – usually acrylic, sometimes cotton – belonged to a different era. In 1988 Ennerre finally got with the programme. While they continued to issue shirts made from their trademarked lanetta (acrylic by another name), they also produced a polyester version, designed more than likely for the summer months.

At the same time Mars succeeded Buitoni as the club’s sponsor, initially written in white and then, later, black – presumably to improve visibility. Napoli won the UEFA Cup in 1989 and a second championship in 1990, whereafter the form of Diego Maradona began to deteriorate. It didn’t matter: he had become synonymous with Napoli and brought them unprecedented success, immortalising Ennerre’s shirt in the process.

 

FIORENTINA, 1989-90

 

When a friend introduced me to the delights of 110 Goals Italia Style in 1989 (on VHS) it wasn’t immediately obvious just how good Fiorentina’s shirt actually was. This is because they were wearing it with purple shirts and white socks, which detracted from its magnificence. When we sat down to watch the sequel in 1990, it became apparent (about a quarter of the way into it, as Baggio curls a diagonal ball into the back of Ascoli’s net) that Fiorentina were now wearing white shorts with purple socks. As well as that, they were sponsored by local rag La Nazione, rather than non-alcoholic aperitif Crodino, whose yellow and white lettering was less conspicuous than Crodino’s yellow and red.

The shirt itself, made by ABM, was micropatterned, employing subtle shifts within the texture of fabric to create a pattern out of ABM’s logo – a stylised ‘S’ for Sportivo. It had a ribbed collar, a V-neck and was of a moderately loose fit. The badge was the same that was reintroduced in 2021: a red fleur-de-lis appended to the letter ‘F’ set against a white circle with a purple border, far neater than the distended diamond-shaped crest Fiorentina used before and after. The following year, ABM reinstated the purple shorts and Roberto Baggio was sold to Juventus.

A.S. ROMA, 1990-91

Roma had to wait until 1990 before Ennerre saw fit to provide them with polyester shirts, by which time the trend for micropatterning had begun to really take off. Strangely, Ennerre seemed to hedge their bets, supplying a plain, silky version as well as micropatterned one. (Napoli were presented with the same dilemma). The micropatterned version was hardly used, yet it is the superior iteration. The NR logo, repeated within the fabric of the shirt, is a neat design, and the jersey itself is a deeper, more satisfying shade of red. This, combined with Piero Gratton’s lupetto badge and the white italics of the sponsor, Barilla, qualify it as the club’s best shirt ever. Roma did well in it too, reaching the finals of both the UEFA Cup and the Coppa Italia, losing to Inter in the former and defeating Sampdoria in the latter. 

JUVENTUS, 1990-92

While AC Milan got to dress up in polyester as early as 1987, Juventus had to wait until 1988. Strange, considering that Kappa – the firm that issued both teams their kit – was a subsidiary of a larger firm called Maglificio Calzificio Torinese. The shirt in question, when it arrived, was sponsored by Ariston, the same company that had its name emblazoned upon the acrylic sarks Juventus wore the previous season. Then in 1989 Upim replaced Ariston, whose rounder font complimented the jersey’s simplicity. However, it still lacked something, which was colour. Juventus won the Coppa Italia in 1990, which provided it. Turns out they needn’t have bothered. Kappa, in a moment of genius, decided that their logo would now be coloured green. This seemingly innocuous detail meant that when the coccarda was removed in 1991, the shirt sustained its visual impact. In fact, it looked better without it, the green insignia on the right singularly complementing the two gold stars to the left. Danone succeeded Upim in ’92, and the svelte neckline and collar – the same that had graced the shirts of Sampdoria and Milan – were exchanged for something more substantial. Still a good effort, but the 1991-92 iteration takes the honours.

TORINO, 1992-93

By 1992-93, Italian football strips were on the slide, Umbro and Lotto being the main offenders. There were still some quality shirts knocking about – Brescia, Roma, Milan, Pescara, Juventus – but only one that really mattered: Torino’s. ABM were responsible, in a working relationship that stretched back to 1990. Nothing much changed throughout their three-year tenure, save for the sponsor in ‘91 (from Indesit to Beretta) and the introduction of a polo-style neck opening in ’92. (ASICS did a similar thing with Sampdoria’s jersey the same year but couldn’t resist adding horizontal stripes beneath the placket; less is always more.) Unlike with the shirts they’d supplied for clubs like Fiorentina, Pescara and Piacenza, ABM never embellished the fabric with their emblem. As a result, the deep burgundy really jumps out at you and contrasts nicely with the small amount of blue that features in Torino’s badge. It’s that collar that does it, though.

-------

If football tops like these were typical of the late 1990s, then they would be highly prized, the reason being that people of a certain age became fans of Italian football off the back of Gazzetta Football Italia, which ran from 1992 through to 2002. It’s question of cognitive bias: not of objective value judgements but subjective realities based upon nostalgia and fond memories. Precedently, football shirts had been governed by practical necessity, and were all the better for it. Thereafter, they became fashion accessories, as preposterous now as flares, bubble perms or a particularly bushy pair of sideburns.

[For a more in-depth analysis of each of these seven shirts, follow these links: Inter, Sampdoria, Napoli, Fiorentina, Roma, Juventus, Torino.]

LINER NOTES: IT'S RAINING TODAY [2023]

 

       1.   Elm Grove Window – The Clientele

       2.   Lovefingers – Silver Apples

       3.   It’s Raining Today – Scott Walker

       4.   Do Rainbows Have Ends – The Brian Jonestown Massacre

       5.   Templeroy – Felt

       6.   Along – Ghost Woman

       7.   Lose The Game – Holiday Ghosts

       8.   What I’m Missing - GracieHorse

       9.   Bell of Silence – Color Green

     10.   Child of the Moon – The Rolling Stones

     11.   Solicitor in Studio – The Fall

     12.   Dead Pool – Mission of Burma

     13.   When You Say - FACS

     14.   2 Lines – The Big Moon

     15.   Desert Nights – Lonnie Liston Smith & The Cosmic Echoes

     16.   Lwonesome Tonight – PJ Harvey

     17.   The Fool – Nighttime

     18.   Good Living Is Coming For You – Sweeping Promises

     19.   Mine Forever – Lord Huron

     20.   Strange Overtones – David Byrne & Brian Eno

     21.   Stars – Angel Olsen

     22.   Ballad of a Vision Pure – Cinema Red and Blue

     23.   Point That Thing Somewhere Else – The Clean

     24.   Chained to a Cloud – Slowdive

‘I Had to Say This’ by The Clientele was one of my favourite musical discoveries of 2019. Found on its own, as part of a compilation entitled Tim Peaks (Songs For A Late-Night Diner), I intended to follow up on my interest, but never did. In the end, it has taken a playlist on Spotify, compiled by the chap who introduced me to Sarah Records, for me to finally get around to it.

The methodology the chap employs when putting together such things appears to be unsound (or rather, I see no method at all). Yet the song that kicks off his anthology is the same that I’ve used to start mine. ‘Elm Grove Window’ is from The Clientele’s fourth album, It’s Art Dad, a collection of the band’s earliest recordings. Upon hearing it I immediately abandoned the chap’s playlist and proceeded to work my way chronologically through The Clientele’s entire back catalogue. Then I went back to the beginning and did it all over again. For a couple of weeks I listened to nothing else. When it was announced that the group were releasing a new album – their first in six years – I pre-ordered a copy, along with a ticket to see them play live at Rough Trade (East) in July.

‘Lovefingers’ by Silver Apples reminds me of trying to book a holiday in April, poring over google maps, searching for an appropriate destination. The reason I was listening to them in the first place had to do with somebody on Twitter comparing them to Stereolab. I don’t think they sound much like Stereolab, but what they do share is a fondness of electronic oscillators and pulsating rhythms. Silver Apples got there first, and were probably the first to get there. Released in 1968, their eponymously named debut album was considerably ahead of the game – only the vocals in any way date it. Indeed, Simeon and Taylor’s voices are the group’s weakest link, displaying a naivete at odds with the music. (Their second album, 1969’s Contact, addresses this issue somewhat.)

‘It’s Raining Today’ by Scott Walker doesn’t remind me of anything specific. Either Mark Radcliffe or Stuart Maconie played it on their weekend show in January, telling us that it was a favourite of Thom Yorke’s. You can see why, although Walker’s baritone is in a different league to Yorke’s slurred delivery. ‘It’s Raining Today’ is taken from Scott 3, which was Walker’s third solo album. Upon further investigation I decided I preferred Scott 4, his fifth, but ‘It’s Raining Today’ hit a chord.

There is a connection in my mind between The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Brighton. This may be because the first record of theirs I bought – Tepid Peppermint Wonderland: A Retrospective – was from Rounder Records on Brighton Square, back in 2007. So it seemed appropriate to go and see them play at the Concorde 2, rather than the Kentish Town Forum, especially considering my Brightonian friend (the former cohabitant) is also a fan.

Whether you thought it was a good gig would depend on whether or not you find the antics of temperamental artists entertaining or irritating. I've been lucky enough to witness Mark E Smith throwing microphones at sound engineers, but as amusing as it initially was it got boring pretty quickly. And so it was with Anton Newcombe, who abandoned one of his songs less than a minute in to berate his band for their supposed lack of enthusiasm, which I doubt anybody in the audience had noticed. A few others were then dropped from the setlist entirely. But it was a good a gig, and we made a good day of it. The latest BJM album was released a few weeks later, and I was able to identify some of the new songs we’d heard. 'Do Rainbows Have Ends?' stood out and sits nicely between Scott Walker and Felt.

‘Templeroy’ is the second track off of Felt’s first album to feature on one of my annual compilations, the other being ‘Cathedral’ in 2018. Why it took me that long to listen to the whole thing I’ve no idea, but it rounds off what amounts to a rather sombre introduction to this year’s almanac.

At the beginning of March, myself and a couple of friends flew to Milan to watch Inter play Lecce at football, walk around the place, and to marvel over Italian abstract art at the Museo del Novecento (highly recommended). The next month I went to Nice with my partner, to walk around the place, eat and drink, and to contemplate International Klein Blue at the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art (don’t bother). There was plenty of sunshine in both instances.

Meanwhile, it rained a lot. February had been largely dry but March was the third wettest on record and April wasn’t much better. The end of the month was all right, but the rain returned in May, in time for the coronation of Prince Charles and his transmutation into a king.

Unless you believe in divine right, which hasn't been a thing since the Glorious Revolution of 1688, then there's no excuse for not recognising monarchy for what it really is: showbusiness. The pageantry, the pomposity, the costumes, the capes – it’s nothing more than light entertainment. The problem with all this mummery is that there are a lot of people who take it quite seriously and who are intolerant of those who don't. And yet king, queen, emperor, et al. are just words, just job descriptions. Charles Mountbatten-Windsor is just a human being, as was his mother. If such people represent us they do so out of expediency, not because there's anything inherently special about them, let alone sacred.

On the day, I met my brother and a common friend in Croydon to embark on a pub crawl. They’d been following London’s Tramlink, starting in Mitcham, working their way to Beckenham, before turning back towards Croydon, so they were well ahead of me when I joined them at ‘Art & Craft CR0’ on Surrey Street. From there we moved on to the Dog & Bull, Riff Raffs, The William Morris Pub in Merton Abbey, The Sultan in South Wimbledon, and finished up at The Alexandra in Wimbledon proper. It rained almost constantly, but we were at least successful in our bid to evade the royal sideshow.

Amongst the gloom, Spotify presented me with Ghost Woman and Color Green. I then found Holiday Ghosts on one of Contraflow’s Mixcloud playlists. Ghost Woman had a new album out – Anne, If – but I listened to their self-titled debut as well, which is where ‘Along’ comes from. Holiday Ghosts also had a new album out, had also made others, but I got stuck into their latest offering, Absolute Reality. Originally from Falmouth, their record is the best I’ve heard all year. In fact, I came close to including two tracks on this compilation: ‘Lose the Game’ and ‘B. Truck’.

‘Bell of Silence’ is from Color Green’s debut LP, released in 2022. When I heard Gracie Horse in June, I choose to put it before Color Green, given that they both make what could be described as ‘alternative country’ music. Together they round off the compilation’s second non-submersible unit, consisting of four relatively new songs.

It’s not often you discover an old track by one of your favourite bands, but this year it happened to me twice. ‘Child of the Moon’ by the Rolling Stones was the B-side to ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ and came with its own video, directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg and featuring Eileen Atkins done up to like Lyn Redgrave in Gregory’s Girl. They made one for the A-side too but it’s not as interesting, lacking any sort of obvious narrative. Digitally enhanced restorations were issued in August 2022, but I didn’t get wind of this until April 2023.

The Stones were at the time (1968) a band in transition, moving between the psychedelic experimentation of Their Satanic Majesties Request towards the rootsier blues and folk of Beggars Banquet. In between stood 'Jumpin' Jack Flash', which was neither of these things. 'Child of the Moon', though, wouldn't have felt out of place on Satanic Majesties. It might not be their finest moment, but that the Stones could afford to use it as a mere B-side speaks volumes.

The situation with The Fall was slightly different. 'Solicitor in Studio' is taken from the group's fifth (or sixth if you count Slates) studio album, Room to Live, which is not highly regarded. Knowing this, I'd steered clear, although I did already have a few of the tracks that comprise it, most notably 'Hard Life in Country'. Reading Steve Pringle's excellent book You Must Get Them All – literally a track-by-track breakdown of The Fall's entire canon – I was compelled to fill in the gaps. Room to Live isn't actually a bad record. More than anything, its reputation suffers because of that which preceded it: Hex Enduction Hour, released earlier in the same year and considered to be one of The Fall's best works, if not their best. 'Solicitor in Studio' is the standout track on Room to Live, both musically and vocally. Karl Burns adds a second layer of bass to what’s already a pretty thick bassline, and Marc Riley provides some pleasing flourishes on keys. Mark E Smith's villainous cackle near the end suggests he’s having ball. (I am now fairly certain that I've listened to everything The Fall have ever recorded up to and including 1995, but I could be wrong.)

‘Dead Pool’ by Mission of Burma is the third and final tune on this anthology to be released in 1982 (the others being ‘Solicitor in Studio’ and ‘Templeroy’). Mission of Burma was a Spotify suggestion: it proposed ‘Trem Two’ off of Vs., their first album, but I preferred ‘Dead Pool’. ‘When You Say’ by a group called FACS appeared on another one of Contraflow’s playlists (Sticks & Stones – Tomorrow’s Hits Today). That was in February, so when the Mission of Burma tune turned up I determined it would sit well between the jovial tone of ‘Solicitor in Studio’ and the bass-heavy groove of ‘When You Say’.

I heard ‘2 Lines’ by The Big Moon on the radio while driving through Teddington. I heard it again around at The Wilkinsons, in their souped-up garden shed over a game of pool. ‘2 Lines’ is the first song off their album Here is Everything, which came out in 2022. It’s quite a ‘big’ song and I did wonder whether it would be better placed further down the list, but I think it works here, bringing to a close the compilation’s third non-submersible unit.

It pains me to give Spotify any credit because I would rather not use it. The issue is I’ve been working from home a lot, on a different laptop to the one my music’s on, in a separate room to where my record player is kept, and it’s a convenient thing to use Spotify. I might go for one of my existing playlists or I might try something new – an artist I’ve heard of but not heard. What I won’t do is listen to one of the playlists that Spotify has thrown together for me, such as ‘Shoegaze Classics’ or ‘Alternative 70s’.

My last two compilations have included a number of jazz and instrumental tracks, and I was hoping for more of the same this year; a change of genre can give a playlist shape and direction. I had a couple of other tunes waiting that I felt needed to come later, and jazz or funk would be a good device by which to get to them. After giving McCoy Tyner a go I put on some Grant Green. Spotify then figured I might like Lonnie Liston Smith. I accepted its advice, selecting specifically Expansions, recorded in 1974. I was familiar with the opening track because the guy who used to own a pager would use it whenever he DJ’d at parties or bars. But why did he never play ‘Desert Nights’?

My next discovery was ‘The Fool’ by Nighttime, a band put together by an American singer-songwriter called Eva Louise Goodman. According to her Bandcamp page, Nighttime is a project that ‘locates itself on a musical tree planted on the British Isles, perched atop the branch of folk leaning into sixties rock,’ although there’s a flavour to it that’s very much American. The album, Keeper Is The Heart, is worth the money, and the video for ‘Curtain is Closing’ is also worth a look.

‘The Fool’ begins too abruptly to follow on from ‘Desert Nights’, and so I needed something else to place in between. PJ Harvey offered a solution, although it’s not the most satisfying passage in this collection. ‘Lwonesome Tonight’ [sic] is as slow as it needs to be but exhibits tension, whereas ‘Deserts Nights’ does not. I didn’t even know Polly had a new record out, her first in seven years. I did know Sweeping Promises had an album on the way, and a European tour too. As explained in my liner notes for Here Comes that Beat Again, Sweeping Promises were supposed to play at 2022’s Wide Awake festival in Brockwell Park but had to cancel due to insurance issues pertaining to Covid. Confident that they wouldn’t be pulling the same stunt twice, I purchased tickets to see them.

Café de Levante, Cadiz

It was about now – the beginning of August – that my partner and I flew to Cadiz. The weather in July had been awful and I was looking forward to a spell of uninterrupted sunshine and warmth. I was simultaneously apprehensive about the journey itself: an aeroplane to Seville and then a pre-booked train to Cadiz. We had a three hour window to get from the airport to the train station, which would more than likely be enough, unless there were severe delays.

There were delays, although not severe. Our (Easyjet) flight left an hour later than scheduled. However, the bus from the airport to Seville-Santa Justa took no more than 20 minutes, leaving plenty of time for something to eat and a quick beer. Outside it was baking hot. The train itself was running late, so we had another beer. Our locomotive was then overtaken by the one behind it, which had my partner speculating as to whether or not we could get on that one. We couldn't. Tickets are non-transferable and the Spanish rail services don't sell more than their trains can cater for, as they do in the UK. This would ordinarily be a positive thing, given how clean, comfortable and reasonably priced they are. Unfortunately, as our train got with within 20 minutes reach, they wacked on another 15, and did so repeatedly. Over an hour and a half and several beers later, our train finally arrived. We booked into our hotel at quarter to midnight.

Never mind, Cadiz is a lovely place, and owing to its coastal proximity not nearly as hot as Seville. The food is of the highest quality and anything you drink tends to cost exactly €2: beer, coffee, wine, lemon soda, whatever. There aren't hordes of tourists and those who are there are themselves from Spain, so it makes little difference. On the way home we stopped for a day and a night in Seville, where I saw a roadside thermometer reading 46 degrees Celsius. It was all right as long you didn’t move.

Our Spanish vacation cut through summer like a knife. It was only August but when we got back it felt more like September, the record-breaking temperatures of June a distant memory. It wasn’t particularly cold but it certainly wasn’t hot, and sunshine was in short supply.

'Mine Forever' by Lord Huron and 'Strange Overtones' by David Byrne & Brian Eno were those couple of tracks I had hanging around, waiting for an appropriate juncture. Both were chanced upon in The London Apprentice during Sunday Service. (Sunday Service is a long held tradition – predating Jarvis Cocker's radio show of the same name – whereupon myself, my Cornish friend, and whoever else might be around, meet for few afternoon pints in and around Isleworth.) Lord Huron – a group, rather than an entitled individual – are from Los Angeles. 'Mine Forever' reminds me of The Handsome Family. ‘Alternative country’ in other words.

The version of 'Strange Overtones' we heard was actually a cover by an American band called Whitney. It's a good effort but I read an interview with the group's two core members that rubbed me up the wrong way, so I went with the original. The London Apprentice isn’t cheap, the service is slow, and on a Friday night there’s usually some goon with an acoustic guitar banging out renditions of everyone’s favourites, other than my own. But on a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon it’s not a bad place to drink, especially when they get the music right, as they had in this instance.

By the end of the month the weather was showing signs of recovery. Just as well, as I had a bank holiday date over in Wapping with my Cornish friend and the former cohabitant from Brighton. We were to repeat the previous year's pub crawl, but with minor alterations; The Prospect of Whitby and the Captain Kidd in Wapping, The Mayflower and The Angel in Rotherhithe, the Old Justice and Anchor Tap in Bermondsey, and one for the road in The Shipwright Arms, London Bridge.

The following evening I was in the St. Margarets Tavern’s, enjoying what I feared might be the last of the warm weather, when something caught my ear: ‘Forgiven/Forgotten’ by Angel Olsen. I had no way of telling who it was – the staff there wouldn’t have had a clue – and so I had to remember what words of it I could and then search online when I got home. It turned out to be the lead single off of Angel’s second album: 2014’s Burn Your Fire for No Witness, which sounds like a collaboration between Roy Orbison, Patti Smith and Leonard Cohen, in the best possible way. At first I was going to put ‘High & Wild’ on here but went with ‘Stars’ because I thought it would work better with those I’d be placing either side of it, and Olsen’s vocal really stands out.

The next two tracks were added in July. Cinema Red and Blue is a musical collaboration centered around David Christian from Comet Gain, and it’s a lot of fun. ‘Ballad of a Vision Pure’ is a hard and fast number and kind of operates as the compilation’s climax – or in conjunction with ‘Stars’ it does. I was lucky enough to find a near-mint copy on eBay for £10.99, with free delivery, which considering how few were pressed is an absolute steal.

I’d found out about The Clean a month or so earlier but couldn't decide what song of theirs to include: ‘Billy Two’, ‘Anything Could Happen’ or ‘Point That Thing Somewhere Else’, all taken from the Boodle Boodle Boodle EP, released in 1981. In the end I went with ‘Point That Thing Somewhere Else’, despite it being less representative of the group’s output; a bit Velvet Underground, whereas their other stuff is more Modern Lovers. In any case, The Clean were pioneers of what’s been termed the ‘Dunedin Sound’: Dunedin being the second-largest city on New Zealand’s South Island, the sound being a rough conglomeration of post-punk and psychedelic pop. [Incidentally, The Clean’s co-founder and drummer, Hamish Kilgour, contributes spoken-word vocals to the Cinema Red and Blue album track 'Jesse Lee Kincaid'. Sadly, Hamish passed away in 2022.]

Wapping

In mid-September, following a spell of unusually hot weather that just about made up for the tripe we were served up in July and August, I got myself to Banquet Records to purchase the last remaining copy of Keeper Is The Heart. The new record by Slowdive was playing – Everything Is Alive. I presumed my playlist to be complete at this point but decided I may as well stick ‘Chained to a Cloud’ on the end of it. Unfortunately, it has been brought to my attention that Slowdive have not been performing this song on their recent tour, which may influence whether or not I go and see them.

Before making a decision about that, I had a couple of gigs lined up for the last week of October. Sweeping Promises were on at Studio 9294 in Hackney Wick, overlooking the River Lee Navigation, surrounded by dilapidated warehouses, newbuild flats, artisan workshops and bars selling ‘craft’ beer. Whether by design or by accident, Studio 9294 has great acoustics. Or maybe the sound guy was good at his job, or Sweeping Promises know their way around their instruments and sound equipment. Either way, the gig was one of the best I’ve ever been to, and more than made up for their absence at the Wide Awake festival.

A couple of days later and I was in Plymouth, with my partner, my Cornish friend and a few local associates, to watch Holiday Ghosts at the Underground on Mutley Plain. I can only think Holiday Ghosts were playing there due to their Falmouth connections, because bands like theirs don’t normally play in Plymouth, a city lacking in decent small-to-medium sized music venues. Another brilliant show, although I wouldn’t have got to hear ‘Lose the Game’ if I hadn’t uncharacteristically called out for it towards the end of their set: ‘This is for Plymouth Docks,’ the singer/guitarist said. (I was wearing a T-shirt, purchased from The Modernist, with the logo for the British Transport Docks Board and the words 'Plymouth Docks' emblazoned across the front.)

When we left the venue it was raining heavily, as it had done throughout much of the time we were there, and would continue to do on our return to London. And the leaves started to fall off the trees in their droves.

[Listen to here.]

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: S.S.C. NAPOLI, 1988-90 [NR/ENNERRE]

Napoli’s colours are tenuously informed by those of their ancestors: Naples Foot-Ball Club and Unione Sportiva Internazionale Napoli. The former wore sky and navy blue striped shirts with black shorts and socks; the latter, darker blue shirts and socks with white shorts.

US Internazionale Napoli were in fact the result of a schism within Naples FBC itself. In 1911, wishing to engage teams from the north and perhaps feeling that the existing organisation wasn’t ambitious enough, the foreign (mostly English) members of Naples Foot-Ball Club decided to go it alone. The split imposed a financial burden on both parties and so in 1922 they re-amalgamated, taking on the name Foot-Ball Club Internazionale-Naples. As a sort of compromise, they would wear white-trimmed sky blue jerseys and socks paired with white shorts, the same that would become the colours of Associazione Calcio Napoli.

Yet the arrangement seemed to be skewed in the expatriates' favour. The appointed president, Emilio Reale, had also been president of Internazionale, and their chosen ground in Agnano was the one they used to play on. Even the sports’ press appeared to be in on it, habitually referring to the team as 'Internazionale' in their match reports.

The years that followed were relatively uneventful until the signing of the Charter of Viareggio in 1926, which granted the team entry into the newly formed Divisione Nazionale. The charter was essentially a Fascist initiative, and so under duress the company’s shareholders elected to take on the name Associazione Calcio Napoli, which had a more nationalist ring to it (one of the provisions of the charter was a ban on foreign players). It is this incarnation of the club that is officially recognised as being the first.

Napoli struggled and would have been relegated (twice) if the FIGC hadn’t intervened, on the basis that for the National Division to succeed it needed teams in it from the south. Just as well, because 1928-29 would effectively be a qualifying tournament for the leagues that were to proceed it: Series A and B

Again, Napoli got lucky. The original idea was to create two groups of 16 with the best eight in each being rewarded with a place in Serie A, while the remaining 16 teams would be allocated places in Serie B. Napoli finished eighth in their group, tied on points with Società Sportiva Lazio. A play-off ensued, which ended in a draw. A replay was on the cards until the club’s chairman, Giorgio Ascarelli, was able to convince the head of the FICG to expand Serie A to accommodate 18 teams, allowing both Napoli and Lazio to qualify. (Triestina were the beneficiary in the other group.)

Giorgio Ascarelli may have realised that this was a defining moment in the club’s history, for he prepared accordingly. William Garbutt, the English coach who had revolutionised Italian football during his 15 year stint with Genoa, was poached from southern rivals AS Roma. Attacking midfielders Antonio Vojak and Marcello Mihalich were signed from Juventus and Fiumana respectively, providing striker Attila Sallustro with support (although he’d done all right without them, scoring 22 goals the previous season). Finally, work began on a new purpose-built ground: Stadio Partenopeo – also known as Stadio Vesuvio, and soon to become Stadio Giorgio Ascarelli after the man who financed it died suddenly in February 1930, just a couple of weeks after its inauguration. The club finished the season in fifth place.

Napoli breezed through the 1930s but were then relegated in 1942. In 1944 they moved to a stadium in Vomero on a hill on the northwestern edge of the city, before events caught up with them and they were forced to suspend all activities.

In the aftermath of the Second World War Napoli were obliged to take part in the Serie A/B Centro-Sud Championship, a temporary solution designed to overcome the impracticality of travelling long distances in a country ravaged by conflict. Because most Serie A teams were from the north, they constituted one division, while the central and southern Serie A and B teams were put together in another. Given that Napoli were effectively a Serie B outfit they weren’t fancied, but won their group regardless. Not only did this put them through to the final, national round, but it ensured promotion to Serie A for the subsequent year.

After a brief spell in Serie B from 1948-50 Napoli then managed eleven consecutive seasons in Italy’s top flight, whilst also constructing and moving into the Stadio San Paolo. On being relegated in 1961 they made it back into Serie A at the first attempt, winning the Coppa Italia in the process. The next year, after reaching the quarter finals of the Cup Winner’s Cup, where they lost to OFK Beograd on away goals, Napoli were again relegated. Burdened with debt, local businessman Roberto Fiore bought into the club in 1964, making it a joint-stock company. Now known as Società Sportiva Calcio Napoli, they won promotion the following year wearing for the most part their away strip: all white with a sbarra (sash or 'bar') tracing a diagonal line from the right shoulder of the shirt down to the left. [When running in the opposite direction, it is instead referred to as a banda.]

Former president Achille Lauro was still a 40% stakeholder and so invested in the team, bringing in Omar Sívori from Juventus and José Altafini from Milan. It paid dividends. SSC Napoli finished the championship in third place and were also victorious in the Coppa delle Alpi. They achieved this wearing a darker shade of blue, introduced in 1960. For 1966-67, which was also relatively successful, they would revert to the lighter blue more commonly associated with the club.

It would be another ten years before Napoli won another trophy – the Coppa Italia in 1976 – which is not to say they did badly in between. The club regularly finished in the higher echelons of Serie A and made the semi-finals of the Italian Cup on three occasions, wearing sky blue white-trimmed jerseys. The next significant change, both in the team’s fortunes and its livery, occurred in the mid-1980s.

When Diego Armando Maradona signed for Napoli in 1984 their kit supplier was a manufacturer called Linea Time, more commonly associated with cycling. Despite doing a decent job, Ennerre/NR took over in 1985. Their acrylic jersey, sponsored by Buitoni, did away with the white trim and added a collar. [Ennerre also supplied a trimmed polyester version with faint pinstripes, possibly intended for warmer conditions.] The same strip was used for a consecutive season whereupon Napoli won their first Scudetto and third Coppa Italia.

In 1987, as testament to their recent achievements, Napoli’s shirt was adorned with both the scudetto and the coccarda – a shield and a roundel respectively, incorporating the colours of the Italian flag. To make room for the scudetto, the club's badge was moved to the left shoulder. The coccarda, meanwhile, was positioned directly beneath Ennerre's logo, just above the 'B' in Buitoni. It looked a mess. The club did, however, purchase the Brazilian striker Careca.

After winning nothing in 1987-88 the shirt could have potentially reverted to its previous configuration. Instead, the confectioners Mars took over sponsorship from food producer Buitoni. 'Mars' was initially printed in white, but was switched to black about halfway through the season, presumably to enhance its definition. Moreover, NR issued the shirt in two different materials: polyester and lanetta, which is basically acrylic. New signings included the Brazilian Alemão from Atlético Madrid, Luca Fusi from Sampdoria, and Massimo Crippa from Torino. Napoli finished runners-up to Inter in the championship, lost to Sampdoria in the final of the Coppa Italia, but beat Stuggart over two legs to win the UEFA Cup. This unadorned jersey remained unchanged for following season, as Maradona led Napoli to victory in Serie A. They won more games, scored more goals, amassed more points than during their previous title-winning campaign, but the winning margin was less: two points more than AC Milan, compared to three ahead of Juventus. Maradona was top scorer with 16 league goals, Careca second with 10.

Maradona’s final season with Napoli would also be Ennerre’s (before Umbro stepped into the fold, ruining everything). NR didn’t see fit to change what wasn’t broken, although there were a few twists. Again, two shirts were made, both in polyester: a plain, almost silky iteration as before, and a matt version micro-patterned with the NR insignia. (AS Roma were presented with the same dilemma.) If that wasn’t enough, an alternative ‘Cup Shirt’ was produced. Blue with an undulating white band across the front, it was worn in the 5-1 drubbing of Juventus in the 1990 Supercoppa Italiana, against Cosenza in the Coppa Italia, Spartak Moscow in the second round of the European Cup (whereupon Napoli were beaten on penalties), and in a number of league games early on in the season. The template was also used for a red, third shirt, while the away kit was white with pale blue rhomboids running horizontally across the chest. Napoli ended the season in a disappointing eighth place.

Cup Shirt - 1990-91

Considering how few changes Ennerre actually made, it is amazing to think how many different jerseys they produced during their six year tenure. The 1986-7 edition seems to be the most popular, in which Napoli won their first scudetto. You might equally fancy the first Mars shirt; it might simply come down to whether you like your fonts with or without serifs. Or maybe you prefer the contrast in colour the scudetto and the coccarda bring, even if the overall effect is a bit busy. Whichever version you favour, they’re all representative of a specific moment in time: Maradona in his pomp, and the fairy tale he bestowed upon the city of Naples and its people.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: A.S. ROMA, 1990-91 [NR/ENNERRE]

It used to be compulsory for cyclists riding the Tour de France to wear black shorts and white socks. As far as I can tell there was no practical reason for this, but the surfeit of colour that plagues the modern peloton suggests that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the regulation was reinstated. Where clothing is concerned, chromatic colour – as distinct from achromatic colour, which has no hue – is something to be used sparingly; human beings are various enough without throwing a riot of iridescence into the mix.

There are exceptions, although not many. The all-red garb Bill Shankly conjured up for Liverpool is one of them. When they favour it, Roma’s strip is another.

A.S. Roma’s history may not be as illustrious as those of Juventus, Milan or Inter, but they’ve not done badly. Some statistics: Roma, alongside Juventus, have competed for every Scudetto bar one (only Inter have a better record, having played every season in Serie A since its inception in 1929). They have triumphed thrice and finished as runners up on 14 occasions. Nine Coppa Italia victories have been recorded, second only to Juventus. I Giallorossi – ‘the yellow and reds’ – have also played their fair share of European football, although they failed to win either of the two finals they contested.

All things considered, being a Roma supporter has been worth the bother, and especially so during the 1980s. They kicked off the decade with two consecutive Coppa Italia victories – both won on penalties against the same opposition, Torino. Concurrently, Roma’s league form gradually improved. They ended the season in sixth place in 1979-80, came second in ‘80-81, third in ‘81-82, before finally securing their second ever Serie A title in 1982-83, wearing gear manufactured by Belgian sportswear company Patrick.

Despite failing to defend their scudetto, Roma made a good go of it in 1983-84: they came second in the league, bagged their fifth Coppa Italia, and were runners up against Liverpool in the 1984 European Cup final (Liverpool decked out in red, A.S. Roma in white). By now the team's shirts were supplied by Kappa, an association that would last three years, culminating in yet another Coppa Italia triumph in 1986, beating Sampdoria over two legs. Thereafter, Roma formed an alliance with NR (Ennerre) that would run until 1991, whereupon they switched to Adidas.

Mutatis mutandis, the Ennerre kit was neither very different to the Kappa strip that preceded it nor the Adidas version that came after: coloured Tyrian purple, which inclines towards red, with shorts and socks to match. The most significant disparity between the Kappa shirt and the Ennerre iteration was the tone of the trim – orange in the first instance, a golden yellow in the next. The difference between the Ennerre and Adidas shirt was even slighter, the only discernible change being the addition of Adidas’s iconic stripes upon the shoulder. All three shirts even brandished the same sponsor – pasta producer Barilla.

Ennerre hooked up with Roma during what was supposed to be Sven-Göran Eriksson’s third season in charge – 1986-87. Made from acrylic (or lanetta), the corresponding jersey bore the coccarda but failed to inspire anything higher than a seventh place finish in the league and a second-round exit in the Coppa Italia (courtesy of Bologna). Eriksson was shown the door in May, Angelo Sormani took temporary charge before Nils Liedholm – the man who had guided A.S. Roma to their title win in 1983 – re-joined the club, intent on resurrecting past glories.

Notwithstanding the loss of Carlo Ancelotti to AC Milan – from where Leidholm had just came – Roma looked a decent proposition ahead of ‘87-88. Club legends Giuseppe Giannini and Bruno Conti were still present and correct, Polish midfielder Zbigniew Boniek had another season left in him, and the new coach was able to lure promising defender Gianluca Signorini from Parma (who would leave after one season for Genoa) and the highly coveted German striker Rudi Völler from Werder Bremen. And so it proved to be. Völler took time to settle but Giannini rose to the occasion scoring 11 times from his position in midfield, helping Roma to secure third place behind Napoli and AC Milan, thus qualifying for the UEFA Cup.

1988-89’s campaign failed to meet expectations. Roma were knocked out in the third round of the UEFA Cup by East German minnows Dynamo Dresden, only made it as far as the second round of the Coppa Italia, and finished a disappointing seventh in Serie A. Nils Liedholm was sent packing, as were the under-performing Brazilian pairing of Andrade and Renato. On a brighter note, Rudi Völler appeared to be finding his feet, having scored 15 goals in all competitions.

Perhaps conscious that A.S. Roma’s form had begun to stagnate, Ennerre switched the configuration of the club’s crest – the Piero Gratton ‘wolf’s head’ emblem introduced in 1977, abandoned 1997 – with their company logo; the badge was transposed to the right, the NR insignia to the left. It seemed to have the desired effect. Roma finished the season in sixth place and made it to the semi-finals of the Coppa Italia, losing narrowly to eventual winners Juventus. The slight improvement in the club’s fortunes may more realistically be attributed to the appointment of Luigi Radice as coach.

At any rate, club president Dino Viola had already decided he wanted Ottavio Bianchi to assume coaching responsibilities, and would have employed him a year earlier if Bianchi’s contract with Napoli had allowed for it. (Radice had not been made aware of this and it left a sour taste in his mouth when it became clear that he’d merely been hired as temporary cover while Roma waited for Bianchi to become available.) Ottavio Bianchi, when he finally arrived in the summer of 1990, enlisted the services of his ex-Napoli employee Andrea Carnevale, who was very quickly caught out on a doping violation (along with goalkeeper Angelo Peruzzi) and banned from competing for the next 12 months. Brazilian defender Aldair signed from Benfica, shoring up a defence that already included the German centre-back Thomas Berthold.

Meanwhile, Ennerre decided to ditch the acrylic and embrace polyester. In every other respect the shirt was pretty much the same, save for two strands of yellow piping running diagonally from the neck down to under the arm. Moreover, as at Napoli, Ennerre supplied two versions of the same shirt: one in unembellished polyester and the other micro-patterned with NR’s magnificent logo. They also provided a second away jersey, in the same style as Napoli's so-called 'cup shirt'. White with a red and yellow convoluted stripe reaching from one arm to the other, the top was used sparingly but has since become something a cult classic.

Roma’s league form was subsequently erratic and they could only manage ninth place. However, in the UEFA Cup they ran riot and lost only narrowly over a two-legged final to Italian rivals Inter (Rudi Völler was the competition’s leading scorer with 10 goals). Then, less than a month later, Roma sealed an empathetic 4-2 aggregate victory over Serie A winners Sampdoria in the Coppa Italia.

The Curva Sud faithful would have to wait another ten years before their team lifted another trophy – A.S. Roma’s third scudetto – by which time they’d reverted to wearing white shorts and black socks. Actually, Roma’s kit has fared better over the years than many of their rivals’, but it's never quite hit the heights that Ennerre bestowed upon them during the latter half of the 1980s and early '90s.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: ATALANTA, 1989-91 [NR/ENNERRE]

Atalanta began life as the Bergamo Society of Gymnastics and Athletic Sports Atalanta in 1907, named in honour of the mythological Greek of the same name: huntress, slayer of centaurs, injurer of boars, the object of the Argonaut Meleager’s affections, and runner. The club was set up by a group of students who attended the prestigious Liceo Classico Paolo Sarpi, and who had in turn been members of the ‘The Young Orobia’ – Orobia being the name of the territory that formerly constituted north-eastern Lombardy.

At that time, Bergamo already had a football team, called Foot-Ball Club Bergamo. Established in 1904 by a Swiss textile-industrialist named Matteo Legler, they played in Italy’s Seconda Categoria, but it doesn’t seem they took it too seriously, forfeiting a game against Unione Sportiva Milanese so they could play in friendly against Chiasso in Switzerland. In the 1911, the club folded.

Meanwhile, the Bergamo Society of Gymnastics and Fencing – or Bergamasca for short – were looking to expand their interests. Sensing an opportunity, they offered Matteo Legler the job of setting up a football club, which he duly did, bringing with him financial clout and any of his mates who were still interested in kicking a ball about. Before long, football was the association’s main concern.

Atalanta’s fortunes were also on the up. After playing nothing more than friendlies on improvised terrain, the club gained access to a field large enough to meet the regulations laid out by the Federazione Italiana Giuoco Calcio (FIGC) and received official recognition from the governing body in 1914. The Great War intervened, and then in 1919 a problem arose. The FIGC would only permit one team from Bergamo to compete in what was then known as the Prima Categoria. The Italian championship was oversubscribed, meaning that teams had to win regional pre-season qualifiers to gain admittance into the group stage of the championship, with the aim of qualifying for the national semi-finals, which were also group-based. There was nothing for it but to play-off against each other. Bergmasca were favourites but Atalanta prevailed, two goals to nil.

Atalanta finished third in Lombardy Group B, which wasn't enough to get them into the semi-finals. In February 1920 it was decided that the best course of action would be to join forces to create Atalanta e Bergamasca di Ginnastica e Scherma, abbreviated soon after to Atalanta Bergamasca Calcio.

Whereas Atalanta had worn black and white vertical striped shirts, Bergmasca wore blue and white, which suggested a combination of the two. Initially, the newly formed club opted for blue and black halved jerseys with black shorts and socks, before settling for the blue and black vertically striped format worn to this day. The club crest incorporated horizontal black and white stripes occupying one of half of a shield with a field of solid blue in the other as a nod to both teams' history.

The Italian Championship was by now approaching its critical mass. Rather than reduce the number of competing teams, the competition was enlarged to accommodate more of them. It made no difference. Atalanta finished bottom of their Lombardian qualifying group – one of the six required to whittle down the numbers – and faced relegation. Following the schism that resulted in the formation of the rival Confederazione Calcistica Italiana (CCI), however, Atalanta kept their place in the Prima Categoria. Following the Columbo Compromise of 1922, they were then demoted to a newly formed Seconda Divisione.

In 1925, the Seconda Divisione became the Prima Divisione to allow for the creation of the Divisione Nazionale, into which Atalanta were promoted in 1928 – the same year they moved into their current stadium (known then as Stadio Mario Brumana). 1928-29 was to be last edition of the Divisione Nazionale before the move to a single-group format. As such, the top eight teams in each of the two groups that constituted the National Division would be granted entry into Serie A, the teams placed ninth to fourteenth place relegated to Serie B, and the bottom two teams demoted to the old First Division. Atalanta finished Group A in fourteenth place.

The club continued to play in Serie B up until they were promoted to Serie A in 1937, making it to the third round of the Coppa Italia in the process. In 1938, Atalanta were relegated, although they did make it as far as the quarter finals of the Italian Cup. In 1940 they were back in Serie A, where they would remain until 1958 (excepting the brief alteration to the format that came about after the Second World War). In 1959, Atalanta won Serie B for a second time, and in 1963 they were victorious in the Coppa Italia for the first.

Perhaps to celebrate, they decided now would be a good time to redesign their badge, reconfiguring the shield to include an image of their Greek namesake on the right, blue and black vertical stripes to the left, and the club's name above. Atalanta's fortunes thereafter were mixed, although never disastrous, flitting between Series A and B with mild regularity, a pattern that would persist for the rest of the decade and well into the next

The 1980s can be seen as something as a turning point, not just on the pitch but off it. In 1984, Atalanta came top of Serie B for the third time in their history and decided to give their badge a modernist revamp. Atalanta’s head was depicted in profile, her hair blowing behind her, suggesting movement, set against a blue background circled within a thin band of yellow – no text. Moreover, it appeared be made of leather. If you didn’t know better you’d think graphic designer Piero Gratton had a hand in it. The kit itself, which was nothing to write home about, was sponsored by Sit-In, manufactured by Ennerre.

Then in 1989, after having been relegated in 1987, the same year they reached the final of the Coppa Italia, Atalanta were back in Serie A with the same badge but a new sponsor, the energy provider TAMOIL. The bold, italic, uppercase font was hardly spectacular, but it was set in red against a white, rectangular background. The material was a silky polyester, and it had a collar. Then there was Ennerre’s delightfully minimal insignia, the letters ‘n’ and ‘r’ embroidered in green thread. Driven on by goals of Claudio Caniggia and Armando Madonna, Atalanta finished seventh, which was good enough to gain entry into the UEFA Cup. (They had actually qualified for the same competition the previous year, only to be then eliminated by Spartak Moscow in the first round.)

For the next season, TAMOIL was printed in white, doing away with the white backdrop, but apart from that the strip remained the same. Atalanta fared better in the UEFA Cup this time around, knocking out Dinamo Zagreb, Fenerbahçe and Cologne, before losing to eventual winners Internazionale in the quarter finals. They finished Serie A in tenth place with Evair and Caniggia as joint-top scorers, contributing 10 apiece.

1990-91

In 1991 Atalanta joined up with Lotto, and anybody who reads my stuff will know that I don't care much for shirts made by Lotto. In 1993 they tinkered with the badge, superimposing an oval to make room for the club’s name and the date of 1907. The distinctive profile of Atalanta was unaltered, and remains as it is to this very day. Thank God for small mercies.