Two Princes was one of the songs that got me back into pop music. Like most teenagers music had been my salvation in the 1970s. But after three years running the college mobile disco I graduated in 1981 and began to build a career as a theatre technician and designer. Music, especially pop music, receded from my life. This was partly a matter of peer pressure from music snobs: an actress once told me that the trouble with me was that I liked everything. I had always thought that was a good thing, but now I withdrew from my guilty pop pleasures.
In 1993 I was beginning to feel that my theatre career had run its course, and that may have been responsible for a renewed interest in what was happening in popular music. I had missed the late 1980s and early 1990s but now I began to buy compilation tapes – yes, cassettes – to keep me company on tour. There was an alt country one I’d love to find again which introduced me the likes of kd lang and Lyle Lovatt; a dad-rock drive-time effort from Dino Records where I discovered the joys of Ten Sharp’s You and Wilson Phillips’ Hold On; and a glorious indy set from EMI in 1994 called Unlaced (a mash-up of MTV’s Unplugged strand and Doc Marten footwear which was pictured on the cover).
Unlaced was a delight, full of modern music which I’d never heard and which I could actually like instead of tolerate. I’m tempted just to list its contents, each one a discovery and a reminder of the importance that music had once represented in my life. Blur, Pulp, James, Radiohead, The Levellers, EMF, The Charlatans, Suede, no Oasis: music was back. I was back, back in my own skin again.
Two Princes is a simple love song in which a penniless suitor begs the object of his affection to choose him over a wealthier rival. “You marry him, your father will condone you, How 'bout that now? You marry me, your father will disown you, he'll eat his hat, now.” It’s the oldest story.
The Spin Doctors were marketed as indy rockers to broaden their appeal, but in truth they are just a damn good pop-rock band in the fine tradition of The Sweet. Two Princes wasn’t an articulation of any liberal socialist agenda but a fairy tale inspired by the romantic tradition of English literature. Lead vocalist and lyricist Chris Barron was an admirer of the tales of King Arthur, the works of JRR Tolkien and the plays of William Shakespeare. There’s more than a touch of the forbidden love of Romeo and Juliet between the protagonists of the song.
It may be a simple love song, but musically it’s all-rockin’. It has a lot in common with The Sweet’s Ballroom Blitz: the snare-drum call to arms which introduces it, and the rhythm-heavy guitar which answers the call. In both songs sections are sung to a drums-only backing as a prelude to rebuilding the rhythm to a climax. And both songs fade out with the insistent guitar ringing in your ears.
The constant refrain in Two Princes is the line “Just go ahead now.” Its inspiration was Mickett Wilder, the older brother of the band’s bass player, to whom they all looked for a lead in style and fashion. When Chris Barron asked Mickett’s advice about a girl he fancied, Mickett told him to follow his heart. “Just go ahead with that now; just go ahead now.” With that ringing in my ears, two years later I quit theatre for good and went back to college to study applied art. Rejuvenated, I turned forty in the company of twenty year olds, graduated in 1998 and boldly set out on a new phase of my life as a craft potter in rural Cumbria.
It was a complete disaster; but I can’t blame The Spin Doctors for that.
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