There they go again

IT HAS been 15 years since The La's released their self-titled debut album. Twelve gems of surreal rockabilly pop that almost sank without a trace on its release at the tail end of 1990. Since then the album has become something of a cult classic, and the band that pre-dated Madchester, Oasis and The Verve are widely recognised for drawing the blueprint that allowed a resurgence in British guitar music after the cold, synthetic synthesiser sound of the 1980s.

Most of the songs had been written in the mid-1980s as The La's developed a formidable live sound and staunch following in Liverpool, which soon broadened throughout the UK. For three years they tried to capture that live sound in the studio but after numerous attempts seemed to give up. By the beginning of the 1990s it didn't look like the record would ever see the light of day until producer Steve Lillywhite pieced together some of the rejected recordings. It was rumoured that the band's chief songwriter and frontman, Lee Mavers, made sure the best versions were destroyed.

He then claimed to have nothing to do with the finished record right down to the artwork and persistently rubbished the record on its release, resulting in poor sales, despite blanket praise in the music press. Regardless of Mavers' opinion, the album soon became a cult classic, with melodies and lyrics from the singer's active imagination in the form of folk tales and sea shanties.

At the time he simply refused to endorse anything that didn't match up to his idea of how the record should sound, claiming: "I'd rather be skint and doing what I want."

The major problem was Mavers' steadfast determination to get the sound in his head down in the studio. Unfortunately, 1980s technology was not designed for artists influenced by the 1960s acid rock of Captain Beefheart, the 1950s rhythm and blues of Bo Diddley and the organic harmonies of early Beatles.

He would conduct marathon rehearsals that would go on for up to 12 hours with members of the band, sometimes continually playing a riff or single note repeatedly. There seemed to be a revolving door policy when it came to recruiting the guitarist and drummer. Mavers' only constant throughout was bass player John Power, who later formed the band Cast. While Cast eclipsed The La's in terms of commercial success, they lacked the credibility and flawed brilliance of Mavers. With The La's, Power and Mavers would spend hours perfecting vocal harmonies and had a certain chemistry on stage: Mavers the shuffling, sneering rockabilly punk to Power's curly-haired, bopping scally.

Apart from a few ramshackle gigs in the mid-1990s Power's departure spelled the end of The La's in 1991. The rot set in when Mavers became obviously uncomfortable with Power's songwriting contributions. The La's were essentially Mavers' vision. His self-confidence and talent were flagrant, but without Power The La's were missing an essential element: like Paul Simon without Art Garfunkel. What the band should have accomplished is frightening. Noel Gallagher once claimed he set out to finish what The La's started.

Mavers' disappearance allowed others to reap the benefits, but he undoubtedly enjoys the mystique that continues to surround him. As their stature has grown along with perpetual myth and rumour, he has remained silent, living from the royalties of his perfect pop moment, 'There She Goes'. When he was once asked if he would release any of his demos, Mavers offered a typical response: "They're for my Ma's ears and my Ma's ears only." In truth, he did survive a spell on heroin and got married, sired four children and has since divorced.

So now, 15 years later The La's are back playing a string of summer festivals including T in the Park. Their three British dates have met a wall of silence from the band and no new promotional pictures. In the Manchester Ritz last week, chattering voices wondered if the group were even going to turn up after news appeared on their website of Mavers sacking his new drummer Nick Miniski during gigs in Ireland.

There was a sense of relief when the band eventually strolled on stage. Mavers has retained his 1960s mop top and thin frame. The face may be a little ravaged but that aside the show becomes a glorious time-warp.

Jasper the drummer, who stands up for the entire gig while getting the rhythm from Mavers, adds to the loose feel of the songs as they rattle through the entire album. There's no doubt the songs have aged well. There's a timeless quality about them like ancient folk songs or infectious nursery rhymes. They have a simple rawness that has eluded most songwriters of Mavers' generation and beyond. A smile even escapes Mavers' sullen face as he bursts into what was their first single 'Way Out'.

Prior to the gig I had arranged to meet Mavers in Liverpool. When I got there he said he was too busy with rehearsals to meet face-to-face but he did take time to chat over the phone.

"I like to keep a bit of mystery about The La's and I don't really want to talk about them," he says. "We are recording demos just now, which are sounding boss."

While he is keen to talk up the new material, he also wants to address his past. "We are recording some new songs but the plan is to re-record the first album," he says. "Some of the new songs are the best I've done. There are just so many mixes of 'There She Goes' that were nothing to do with me. Those versions of that song became someone else's vision - it wasn't mine. I still think that album is shit. There are demos and bootlegs that are better than the stuff on there. It wasn't what we were about."

Mavers' last official interview was with Matthew Macefield, a lawyer who, over four years, researched the band for his book In Search of The La's: A Secret Liverpool, which was published in 2003. Mavers, who appeared co-operative at first, abruptly ended the contact with Macefield after two meetings. The author says: "Now that time has gone by I can reflect more easily on it all. I feel genuinely reassured and inspired because it's nice to know that there is somebody like Mavers out there. He won't compromise and will do things as exactly as he thinks they should be done. If he can't get that he won't do it.

"It's easy to admire people who are that uncompromising. You have to identify the direction your life is going in and you have to stay true to it the best you can. He has an internal compass that tells him where to go; nothing can touch that, there's purity in it."

Although the band were on the fringes of the Madchester baggy movement, they played a large role in shaping what followed in the 1990s alongside The Stone Roses. "I don't mean to sound like a big head, la, but I don't think much of any of those bands," Mavers says. "I mean, The Stone Roses... we called them The Stoned Poses. And The Coral are just a Vernon Kay type of La's."

It's hard to pull any influence out of Mavers; it's like talking to someone who's been frozen in time, although he does appear friendly and passionate while living up to his reputation for talking Scouse psychobabble.

There are all the usual references from Beefheart to The Beatles, but the key to The La's sound probably lies in Liverpool's cultural melting pot. "I've got a bit of everything in me, la. Mavers is actually a German name; my Mother's name is Aitken which is Scottish. I was brought up Catholic so there's some Irish in there. I've got God on one shoulder and the Devil on the other."

The La's play T in the Park, Saturday, July 9