June 26, 2025 • 44 mins
“Fond affections are never said, they’re only sung in song.” (Michael Allen, Rema Rema)
—
Born in 1957 in County Durham, northeast England, British designer Vaughan Oliver stepped out of a world steeped in tradition and into the nonconformist realm of the music industry.
Growing up in an environment devoid of culture, it was through Surrealism and Pop Art that he discovered modern art, its power to open up his imagination, and provide a doorway to new adventures rich with possibilities.
Inspired by the work of record cover designer Roger Dean, he eventually found his calling at independent record label 4AD, where he worked with many of post-punk’s early pioneers: Cocteau Twins, Modern English, Colourbox, Lush, and of course This Mortal Coil.
In 1982, with school friend and photographer Nigel Grierson, he founded the design studio 23 Envelope, which quickly became a center for creative innovation and revolution.
In 1988, after Oliver and Grierson decided to part ways, Oliver went on to establish V23, fostering creative relationships with a new band of like-minded revolutionaries such as Chris Bigg and Simon Larbalestier, whose collaboration on the Pixies' Minotaur box set would earn them all a Grammy in 2010.
The studio’s work also expanded into TV and film, but Oliver was always at his most content sitting down with a group of students, talking about ideas and football.
He was a generous man, a loving father, a dedicated teacher, and an inspiration for generations of designers and musicians.
After he died in 2019 at age 62, his legacy continued through his wife, Lee, who helped establish the Vaughan Oliver Graphic Design Scholarship program with Northumbria University and 4AD in 2021.
Vaughan Oliver was a man of vast cerebral intellect with an impeccable sense of comedic timing.
His life’s work was a poetic journey through sight and sound, and his impact on art and culture is still being felt today.
This isn’t a biography. It’s a collage. Of images, of memory, of fond affections. The kind you can’t always say out loud—but you never forget.
Featuring interviews with: Simon Raymonde, musician, founder Bella Union records; Paul West, artist and designer, founder Form; Tim O’Donnell, designer; Tom Murray, filmmaker and musician, founder Tulipomania; Adrian Shaughnessy, author, designer, publisher; Miki Berenyi, songwriter and musician, founder Lush and MB3; Graham Wood, art director and designer, founder Tomato; Jonathan Barnbrook, designer; Chris Bigg, designer. Archival audio: Vaughan Oliver, designer; Nigel Grierson, photographer; Ivo Watts-Russell, founder 4AD Records. Additional contributions from: Malcolm Garrett, designer, founder Assorted iMages; Neville Brody, designer, founder Brody Associates. And with generous support from Lee Widdows, art director, trend consultant, School Academic Lead UCA, Epsom, and keeper of the light.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:02):
Bourne would always say you can design a fantastic rattle cover,
but if it doesn't relate to the sound and the content then it's
a waste of time. It just looked the ugly side of
things, all the beautiful side of things, as a sort of
counterpoint to whatever the music was like.
The way he could weave his very offbeat, very visceral, very
(00:26):
dark references is wonderful. Vaughan was a visual poet.
The British graphic designer Vaughan Oliver was a towering
genius, brutally honest and deeply passionate.
He was passionate about football, Samuel Beckett, art
and film, and he was passionate about his family too.
(00:49):
He was also passionate about thecountless artists and musicians
he helped to personify. Vaughan was completely key to
4AD and Ivo has talked at great length about how the records,
they were artifacts and the artwork was very much a part of
that. And to many a Messiah. 4
(01:10):
occupied its own planet, and to any three envelope was a cult.
Just one of the most powerful influences we've ever had.
Above all, he was a singular visionary whose ideas and
philosophical approach to art and design have not been matched
since. He possessed the cerebral,
intellect averse Victoria and Bob Stanley Unwin like dark
(01:34):
sense of humor as well as a reverence for the beauty found
in blemishes and sublime visual poetry.
He was someone who, for Chris Big, that could be both charming
and almost impenetrable all at the same time.
Really shy but really outgoing. Very complicated.
Possibly the funniest person I've ever known.
(01:54):
He was hilarious. Tragically, in December 2019,
Vaughan Oliver died at the age of 62.
Author and designer Adrian Shaughnessy, who was one of
Vaughan's closest confidants, paints a portrait of someone who
lived life to the full. He lived a pretty rock'n'roll
life actually for quite a long time and he met Lee and I think
(02:18):
Lee saved him and it's just so tragic that he then died so
suddenly at his funeral. In his eulogy, designer Graham
Wood spoke of the exact moment he saw Vaughn's work for the
first time, a moment that would sear an indelible imprint on his
brain forever. He'd seen the Cocteau Twins
perform on TV and was enamoured by Elizabeth Fraser's
(02:40):
mesmerizing voice and presence. I've seen them perform on the
BBCI, can't remember the show and it had to have been a Sunday
night because I remember going to live in to school the next
morning then leaving school and going to a record shop and
seeing this cover is almost likenot being able to see something
(03:01):
you know? So I was seeing don't understand
this. It's making my mind buzz.
For a moment, he stood staring at the sleeve of the band's
song, Pearly Dew Drops Drops, a drifting melody layered in
acoustic ambiguity. The Graham Wood something
ignited in him that day. That sense of looking at things,
(03:23):
that slipping, glimpsing thing, that textual thing, you know,
just looking for the so weird inthe everyday or looking for the
texture on the pavement, lookingfor the mystery and the magic.
The record cover was rich in texture, multi layered and
visual poetry. It was a lush distillation of a
song that filled your imagination with both joy and
fantasy. Trembling with excitement, he
(03:45):
walked out and raced home to replay what he saw in his head
over and over again. In reciting from Vaughan's
eulogy, Graham Wood describes how this experience was almost
mythical. I felt I'd had an intimation of
the alchemical means to be able to make something from nothing
beyond inspiration. The visceral exchange had taken
(04:06):
place, a change of state, solid to liquid into air.
It was a moment of pure inspiration, a moment of
cerebral reconfiguration. It was a moment that also
inspired Word to forge a path tohimself when he formed his own
agency, Tomato, straight out of College in 1991, residing again
(04:28):
from his eulogy. Vaughan is the main reason I do
what I do. The first time I came across
Vaughan's work, it felt like my vision was slipping.
A peripheral glimpse of shimmering light, something oily
and decaying, transcendent. I didn't know what I was seeing
or how to see it. This was a deeply profound
experience. For Wood and scores of Vaughan's
(04:50):
disciples, moments like these were deeply profound.
Like for designer Jonathan Barnbrook.
I remember seeing a poster on the way to college for Fever by
X Man Deutschland. I remember seeing that and just
always wanted to kneel down and worship it.
From such a perfect relationshipimage and text and expression of
the music, they were otherworldly experiences, a
(05:14):
slipping glimpse as would recalled Vaughan liked to say.
Graham Woods poignant eulogy painted a portrait of someone
determined to see the world his way.
A man born from the working class grit of Newcastle who
tumbled head first into a world of Sonic outsiders and non
(05:35):
conformist dreamers. A world that eventually allowed
him to have the creative freedomhe always yeared for.
In 1982, he stumbled through thedoor at record label 4AD and
never looked back. In archival audio from a
documentary filmed in 1984, Oliver explains why his time
(05:55):
AT4AD was so important. I couldn't work for another
record sleeve design company, I couldn't work for another record
company. I couldn't be an art director in
a company other than this. I'd buy Cocktail Twins records,
colour box records. I like the idea of having them
in my house against the wall with my rendition, my visual
(06:20):
rendition of that music inside of them.
It is as personal as that. But throughout his life,
Oliver's work was never just about design.
It was also about immersing yourself in an abstract world
filled with intricate arcane delights.
He liked to say it was all aboutexpressing the mystery and the
ambiguity, painting a picture ofsomething invisible, something
(06:43):
that could only be felt in your heart and your mind.
Before AD founder Ivo Watts Russell, it was simpler.
I like the idea of the sleeve seducing you into its world, he
once said in an interview. Hey there, sorry for the
interruption, but if you're enjoying the show, please
support us on Patreon or follow us on Instagram at Destroypoint
(07:05):
Podcast. Now back to the show.
This episode of Destroy is the story of Vaughn Oliver, a soft
spoken creative revolutionary who one day made his way from
County Durham in northern England to the gritty suburbs of
southwest London and redefined the visual landscape of music
(07:27):
forever. It's a story about a prolific
designer who never chased financial prosperity or the
traditional path to success. He simply chased his
imagination, the burning desire to turn record sleeves into
semiotic symbols of myth, steeped in joy and exuberance,
to create powerful, enigmatic and emotional visual languages
(07:47):
for bands and artists that have not been matched in music's
history since. It's a story about someone who,
over 4 decades, helped shape thepersonas of bands like Pixies,
Cocteau, Twins, XML, Deutschland, This Mortal Coil,
and countless more. Someone whose sleeves weren't
just a piece of packaging. They were portals like Beckett.
(08:09):
They were riddles, invitations to explore your mind.
Perhaps my best years are. Gone.
When there was a chance of happening.
But I wouldn't want them back, not with the fire.
(08:31):
In me. Now no, I wouldn't want them
back and. When Oliver died on December
29th, 2019, the sense of loss echoed not just among his
family, but throughout the entire creative community.
Among those gathered at his funeral were former students,
(08:53):
long time collaborators and artist who loved him.
People whose lives had been transformed by his work, touched
by his presence. One of them, artist and designer
Paul W, upon reflection, summarized it all.
Going to his funeral was such anincredible thing.
(09:14):
That. All the old faces there, the
people that you'd seen along theway, managers, bands.
And the wonderful thing about football, of course, was it was
the man, the myth, the designer,but it was also the caring
husband, the father who was at his son's every single football
match and his best friend from school giving him eulogy in, in
(09:37):
in tears. And and that's when you see the
measure of the man. You just realized how many
facets Vaughan had to him. He was just such a caring dosing
individual. And that never, ever went away.
And that's how I remember him. He was just very nurturing in.
This special episode of Destroy we hear from many more of the
people who work beside Vaughan Oliver, were taught by him, were
(09:58):
challenged by him and were also moved by him.
We hear from many of those who loved him, who felt indebted to
his passion, lush vocalist Mickey Barenni, Cocteau Twins
bass player Simon Raymond and designer Jonathan Bombruck, as
well as his long time creative partner Chris Big.
In archival audio we also hear the voices of Nigel Grierson,
(10:20):
Ivor Watts, Russell and Oliver Two.
We return to the beginning to understand how one man redefined
the way music could look and feel.
We unravel Oliver's last tape and rewind.
My name is Richard Smith and I'myour host.
I too was a fan of Vaughan Oliver and his work at 4AD, and
(10:41):
I too received the benefit of his generosity when I still was
at college trying to navigate the art of design.
This special episode is a testament to Vaughan Oliver's
creativity, his influence, and his legacy.
Welcome to Destroy. Rockers.
Raw. Outrageous and crude.
(11:02):
The new craze, they tell them. More into.
Chaos than anything else. People.
Really. Don't understand what kids want?
Worthless. Nasty.
Now hero you. Have to destroy in order to
create. Destroy is produced by B Right
Back Studios. Visit
brightbackstudios.com/destroy tolearn more.
(11:22):
If you're enjoying the show, visit our website
destroypunkpodcast.com to learn more about every episode,
including interview transcripts,show notes, music videos,
curated playlists, and more. Thank you for listening.
Are you sitting Captain Bowl to square on your body?
(11:45):
Then we'll begin. The comedic actor Stanley Unwin
loved word games, often creatingoral concoctions of banal
idiosyncrasies. Idiosyncrasies that often played
games with your brain. They made you wonder.
And much like the work of Vaughan Oliver, they made you
think, and sometimes think twice.
(12:09):
Born on September 12th 1957, Vaughan Oliver grew up in Newton
Aycliffe, County Durham, a new town built by the British
government in the wake of the Second World War.
It was an experiment to rehouse working families in tidy red
brick blocks. It was a way to compartmentalize
the masses in neat, controlled order.
(12:29):
It was dull, uniform, linear. The sky was a constant shade of
grey and there were rows and rows of council houses with grim
views of smokestacks billowing out pollution far off in the
distance. It was not a place known for
beauty, let alone revolution or art.
There were no galleries in Newton Aycliffe, no idealist in
(12:51):
the fields of steel and ore, no masters of reinvention.
For Oliver, it was a place devoid of inspiration.
He described it as having no real culture, and that his
parents weren't interested in anything unusual either.
Everything he got was through record sleeves.
For him, he said, it was a way of discovering art.
(13:11):
Yet despite its lack of stimulation, it was a heritage
he was proud of. As author and designer Adrian
Shaughnessy explains, he came from incredibly modest
backgrounds. He lived in a little village
surrounded by the northeast of England.
His father was an electrician and he was very attached to his
(13:33):
location where he grew up. His upbringing might have been
confined by conformity, but it never impacted his imagination.
In an interview reflecting on his childhood, Oliver once said.
I was a working class lad from adull town.
The local record shop was an artgallery for me.
The dishevelled final section athis local Woolworths was a haven
(13:56):
for the youthful Oliver. His cramped interior was stacked
with racks of album sleeves, simple 12 inch squares filled
with possibility clues to something richer, stranger, more
alive for him. They weren't just products on a
shelf. They were guys to a promised
land that would one day set his imagination free.
Weekend after weekend he would tramp down the High Street
(14:19):
through the pelting rain and spent hours flipping through the
stacks of records, poring over sleeves by hypnosis, new
releases from Factory and Rough Trade, as well as albums
designed by his hero, the illustrator Roger Dean.
But he didn't just look, he absorbed.
He engulfed himself in these symbolic messages, the obscure
(14:39):
visual references. A cow, a Man on Fire, a stark
black and white pulsar, exotic multi colored fantasy, a
Tangerine Dream. It was heaven and he was getting
addicted. At Fairy Hill Comprehensive, his
towns Coed secondary school located on Merrington Road, he
(15:02):
met a kindred spirit by the nameof Nigel Grierson.
Grierson, another lanky, scruffyteenage upstart, was also
spellbound by the intoxicating nature of the record sleeve and
dreamt of a way out of the stifling boredom.
Through their surreal pictures and visceral sounds, Grierson
and Oliver inevity became inseparable. 2 obsessive
(15:23):
dreamers. Restless LS Lowry like
matchstick men in cloth hats andworking class boots, both driven
by the same curiosity, the same sense that something important
was happening out there and theywanted in.
Together they found themselves at Newcastle Polytechnic, one
year apart, both under the spellof the enigmatic artist and
(15:44):
illustrator Terry Dowling. Dowling, a design educator who
cared little for Joseph Muller, Brockman's Helvetica inspired
modernism and perfectly aligned grids, was simply there to
awaken their instinct. His mantra was even more
powerful. To suggest this, to create, to
describe, is to destroy the designer and former V23
(16:05):
collaborator Tim O'Donnell. It was a mantra that Oliver
lived by. That's like the perfect
encapsulation of all of it, right?
It's like you don't want to describe it and take away all of
the room for the viewer to bringtheir own experience to it.
So you just give some cues and let them bring their own
thoughts to it. It was also Dowling who
introduced Vaughn to the work ofthe surrealist like Marcel
(16:27):
Duchamp and Salvador Dali, to the grandiose work of the pop
artist Robert Rauschenberg, to the delicate animations by the
Quay Brothers illustration, and to the idea that collage and
chaos could both speak louder than precision and Bauhaus style
uniformity any day. The designer Graham Wood.
It was all about letting your imagination run wild.
(16:50):
It's about about this sort of freedom, that sense of letting
things be what they want to be and take on their own life, and
discovering through the details of art the things that make the
heart open. From that point on, Vaughan came
to realize the language of his art was never going to be in the
(17:10):
rigor of life drawing or the conventions of color theory or
leveraging typical visual tropes.
Downing's mantra sent him on a different path, filled with
abstract textures, multiple layers of type and imagery
filled with questions and so much uncertainty.
But artist and designer Paul W. It spoke to something almost
poetic, musical. I can remember seeing born
(17:34):
story, early scrapbooks, and thetypography is all there.
You know, this is things. I think in like Newcastle, he
would collect ephemera, he wouldcollect all these things.
He fused his typography and his choice of imagery so well that
it could only have come from this lyrical sensibility,
really. Oliver Dowling's philosophy
(17:56):
ignited a profound awakening, opening up his mind to a deep
love for finding the extraordinary in the everyday,
to an intoxicating love of inky veneers, the seductive tingle
you felt in your fingertips whenpulp and fibre and image and
sound all came together in a climatic surprise.
From the very start, as Oliver explains in audio from 1984, he
(18:20):
wanted to make something that couldn't be explained.
His instinct was only ever to evoke.
It's in the form of packaging. Cynically, it's packaging the
product, but I think we've got alot more opportunity in this to
do something that's more sympathetic with the product and
more sympathetic to the music. If he wanted to make something
(18:41):
that couldn't be explained, his instinct was only ever to evoke.
In the next few weeks we will belaunching a brand new season
called Voices of Protest. It's going to be a little
different, but we have a really great line up of really
interesting guests. Follow us on Instagram at
Destroy Punk Podcast for more details.
(19:01):
Now back to the show. Those post punk ricocheted
through England during the early1980s.
London became the gravitational centre for every young artist
chasing a dream. It was the country's throbbing
centre of creativity. St. style and the hedonistic new
music scenes, new wave, synth pop, shoulder pads, big hair.
(19:24):
English society was on an upwardswing and Vaughan Oliver
followed its draft, graduating in 1979.
He headed South, stepping off the train at London's King's
Cross. He arrived in the capital with
hopes and desires of his own. With nothing more than a
portfolio under his arm, he wentin search of a home.
(19:45):
A creative home that would celebrate his passion for
abstract poetry and chaotic, ethereal beauty.
One that would celebrate Dowling's describe suggest
philosophy that he loved so much.
He was excited, hopeful. London was, after all,
celebrating its creative prowess, especially with the
likes of Peter Savile and Malcolm Garrett and his friend
(20:05):
Neville Brody all capitalizing on the city's new found
prosperity and music. His true love was the driver.
Record sleeves were fast becoming the windows into new
music, as Paul West explains. All the way through the whole
punk explosion into new waves. Of course, the sleeves were such
vanguards of the music, but it'sjust not the process of
(20:28):
absorbing the front cover. It's looking at the on bodies
and the labels and just seeing this incredible language.
And Vaughan was ready to capitalize on this new Sonic
explosion. But it wasn't a straight line
getting there. Dewey eyed.
He took a job at the distinguished Michael Peters and
Partners who, according to some,were considered one of the most
(20:48):
reputable and prestigious designfirms in the country.
They were responsible for the groundbreaking packaging for
brands like Heinz and Windsor and Newton, or so he was told.
For any recent graduate, it was a plum job, especially one far
away from home. It was also steady work, very
polished, very tidy, very nice, but very obvious, very corporate
(21:10):
and very, very predictable. His mother and father no doubt
saw it as a success. He hated it.
Creativity at MPP, unlike the work of his heroes like David
Lynch and Werner Herzog, followed 3 simple priorities,
deadlines, clients and rational outcomes.
That was all. But Oliver, It meant nothing.
(21:33):
A far cry from those rain soakeddays spent swooning over, yes,
covers and Roger Dean artwork athis local Woolies.
According to Oliver, it was the disposable nature of the work he
despised most. In audio captured in the early
80s, he explains why. I worked for a mainstream
packaging design group that had a name and would work on
something like a big bean pack for a big bean chain to work on
(21:57):
that for nine months and nobody recognized the difference
between the previous pack. I mean, it's a much more subtle
approach. Imagining a future filled with
baked bean tins, he found the tedium of working on something
over and over again futile. The lack of creativity was
stifling. I don't like the idea of working
on something for nine months andthen people are putting it in
(22:18):
the dustbin. For young and ambitious Oliver,
his work wasn't garbage. His work was to be cherished,
loved. He longed to get work in the
blossoming music industry. He wanted to chase his
imagination, to find somewhere he could design with emotion,
not for commerce or some asininecustomer focus group.
It was about creating something much more personal.
(22:41):
I like the idea people taking a record sleeve home find out a
little bit more inside on the onthe inner sleeve and then on the
label, then on the front and theback.
He wanted a way out of MPP fast.He wanted to keep moving his
creativity forward, discover like minded souls.
(23:01):
Fortuitously, a door opened AT4AD. 4AD was a different kind
of record label that was quietlytaking shape on Alma Rd. in
Wandsworth, neglected part of southwest London, where someone
else was thinking it was also time to get out.
Ivo Watts Russell, a softly spoken former A&R man at
(23:22):
Beggar's Banquet, had grown disillusioned with the business
as usual nature of the bloated record industry.
He dreamed of something more poetic, less product focused,
more driven by feelings and intuition.
Somewhere for artists to experiment and shine, somewhere
that believed as he did in releasing a record for a record
sake. In 1980, he founded 4 ADA label
(23:46):
that would become a sanctuary for the strange, the beautiful
and often times challenging music that provoked the status
quo prevalent in the music charts of the day.
Randomly, Ivo and Vaughn both found themselves at the same
hedonistic party thrown by an aspiring post punk upstart, but
what's Russell and Oliver? It was a collision of hedonism
(24:07):
that would cement a fertile symbiotic relationship.
From that day forth, Oliver, never typically 1 to brag,
described the moment in succinctbrevity.
I was lucky we got him very well.
He valued the importance of record sleeves too.
It was the beginning, the start of it all.
In 1982, born Oliver had joined 4AD as its first full time
(24:31):
employee, and with him came his friend and former classmate
Nigel Greerson. Setting up shop in the corner of
the box strewn offices AT4AD Alma Rd.
Grierson and Oliver created a haven for themselves, a place
where musicians and artists of any stripe could feel welcome to
pop by and collaborate on Oliverand Grierson's ideas in real
(24:52):
time. They called themselves 23
Envelope, a name that meant nothing and everything all at
the same time. It was a cipher, a puzzle, an
invitation to want to know more.It quickly became code for
originality, innovation and cherished individualism.
Paul Wes recalls how 23 envelopes enigmatic identity
(25:14):
filled him with intrigue. All I can.
Remember is just suddenly seeingthis strange 23 E logo alongside
4AD, thinking this is like some incredible pact, what's going
on? And I just had to find more of
it. I just had to get into it.
For Ivo Watts Russell, it was a special place, one where the
(25:35):
packaging and the music were fully intertwined.
Audio from the early 80s. He lays out his vision for
wanting to not be seen as part of the established music scene.
It's important that people who. Have associated 23 envelope with
already. With certain groups.
That they see this continue to this progression.
Going on and that it is still sovastly different from the
(25:56):
mainstream. From the start, the studio
operated unlike anywhere else. Nikki Bareni, whose band Lush
signed to Four ADA few years later, saw it as a privileged
opportunity founded on a creative desire to create
something unique. Ivo was totally empathetic to
Vaughan and totally admired his work.
(26:17):
It was an incredible freedom forVaughan to do whatever he
wanted, and it's quite intellectual.
But you almost don't need the band title, because once Vaughan
comes up with a sleeve is in itself so different to
everything else that it is instantly recognizable.
There were no briefs, no Marxingteams, and Ivo trusted Grierson
(26:37):
and Oliver implicitly. The creative choices they made,
the musical signings they helpedscrutinize, and the elaborate
concepts it all. It wasn't about creating obscure
visual references. It was about something deeper in
archival audio, Nigel Grayson elaborates.
(26:58):
I think there's quite a difference between the words
pretentious and precious. But if you look at the finished
sleeves, to me the preciousness implies some kind of more
analytical, logical series of steps rather than a kind of
intuitive, spontaneous approach.As I've explained in an
(27:18):
interview at the time, their obsessive nature reflected my
fanatical fascination for the music perfectly, and buying a
4AD record became about more than simply wanting to hear the
music. It was about wanting to enter
the universe that everyone, and most importantly, the artist,
had created. Mickey Berenyi.
(27:39):
The symbiotic relationship was monumental.
Vaughan was completely key to 4AD and Ivo has talked at great
length about how the records they were artefacts and the
artwork was very much a part of that.
In an industry filled with countless sycophants and bottom
(27:59):
feeders, the freedom they had was rare, and it allowed Oliver
and Grierson to create ideas built on a typical ideals.
The temptation always is with marketing women in music is to
exploit their attractiveness. But I think for us in
particular, the idea of being on4 ADP with these amazing sleeve,
(28:19):
it's a label that doesn't exploit you in the way that a
major label would. And being able to sidestep that
process, that you don't have to be part of the marketing as it
were, was really liberating. In audio from the early 80s,
Oliver also points to his process as being key to the
label's success. We all start to push things that
(28:40):
something's going to be more true to the product, to the
record, to the music. It's enough to intrigue, to want
to take it home, to find out a little bit more inside on the
inner sleeve and then on the label.
We never approached things from that angle.
We never considered creative ideas pushed to one side for the
sake of the one that would sell.From the outside, 4AD was an
(29:04):
unglamorous, nondescript warehouse like concrete slab.
But the pilgrims were never there for the glamour.
They were there for their hero to learn where his ideas came
from, a glimpse into reality to understand.
Graham Wood, who was an early disciple, was mesmerized.
Because like, when I went to Florida, I was like, that's so
(29:24):
strange. It's not in the solo.
It's not in the middle of everywhere with everyone hanging
out doing stuff. It was a very insular thing, you
know? It was like pointing their own
little guy. For Nigel Grierson, they were
often developing intuitive manifestations of songs which
often had ambiguous, intangible meanings.
I think the most important thingabout our approach to record
(29:45):
cause is that and the most unique thing really is that we
try to achieve an image quality which is at more abstract and
closer to the feeling of the music, to capture the atmosphere
and the more formal aspects of the music.
Brierson and Oliver's images were like poetic puzzles,
(30:08):
composed of fragments of glass, gore, steam rising from a lake,
faces submerged in a blur, half seen, half familiar, half
perceptible, a reverberation of sound, silence and abstract
extremes. It was an approach to design
built on suggestion and seduction, never to describe,
(30:28):
only to enjoy. Each new project was an active
trust of letting go. They welcomed errors, chased
every accident as Cocteau Twins bass player and founder of Bella
Union record Simon Raymond remembers well.
He just looked the ugly side of things or the beautiful side of
things as as a sort of counterpoint to whatever the
(30:48):
music was. Like somebody that just looks at
something and goes looks brilliant.
I'm using it and I think we werevery much like that with music.
Nothing was formally composed. Ideas were always on earth,
attended to with love and care. Stumbled upon in the darkness,
an overexposed print, a reflection bounced off the wall.
(31:10):
For Chris Big, who joined 23 Envelopes straight from college,
the studio environment was invigorating.
We had a big wall in the student.
Not a big wall, but it pinned things up when you'd hear Ivo
would say we've got this band, his name's Alive.
Thinking of doing the album in October, maybe get some ideas
together, listen to the music. So there was always this churn
(31:32):
of demos, bands coming in. That was the beauty of it.
That was the best time because Ifelt like I was involved in
something bigger than just beinga graphic designer.
The studio was also working withPMTS, or photo mechanical
transfer cameras. Building collage is a found
object, distorted slides resulting in long hot tempered
(31:53):
hours in the darkroom under bright lights and the odor of
sulfates. Tim O'Donnell remembers how he
and Vaughn leaned into their technical failings.
A lot of the textural stuff, mostly it was PMT's done wrong
because I didn't know how to operate the things.
But it was a lot of peeling apart the papers before they
were fully exposed. But there'd be something in them
(32:15):
that was really interesting and we would run with it.
Something comes out by mistake doesn't mean that it's wrong.
For Jonathan Bombruk, the technique was revolutionary, the
way he creatively used the darkroom where he used a PMT
camera. I've checked some gang called
Transfer. Camera.
(32:36):
I've never seen that aesthetic. It just was a level above
everybody else. For author and designer Adrian
Shaughnessy, who published a book of Oliver's entire archive
in 2018 titled VO Archive, whichincluded many of his original
PMT images, Shaughnessy found all of his approach to image
making way ahead of its time. You can look.
(32:58):
At half a dozen born sleeves. And he uses the baseboard of the
PMT canvas. He'd used it just like the later
generations came to use Photoshop.
It was a physicality Vaughan held on to, even as the design
world around him started to embrace digital design,
something that for him was an anathema.
(33:20):
Yet many of those who worked with him understood it was not
part of how his ideas took shape, even though eventually he
knew he had to embrace the technology's rapid invasion.
Born Oliver resisted the computer most of his life.
Really. I think he was the last not
(33:41):
music designer, the last designer in London to actually
give over and say OK, we've got to do it.
He steadfastly refused to go that way over the years.
He was said no, that's not how Ican work.
I have to see it on a board and I have to move things around
physically to see how it worked.I understand like it's, it's,
(34:05):
it's at a remove from cutting something on a scalpel and
pasting it down and sizing it just based on what feels right
as opposed to we have to choose a number.
You know, the whole lives of these days dictated by this
screen, and it's not the perspective anymore.
We can't sort of match one thingwith another on an iPhone.
(34:29):
He really struggled with it for a long time.
It was hard for it to make mistakes.
He hated it. He hated it.
He really hated it. It felt far away.
It was like swimming with Wellington boots on.
The Simon Raymond Oliver's more emotional approach also
illustrated why using her computer didn't make sense for
(34:50):
him. He would listen to the music
over and over again and just close his eyes and just imagine
stuff. What can I see here?
What can I imagine? Even if it had nothing to do
with anything in particular, that's how he would come up with
his ideas. And I think that's the beauty of
it. He wasn't inspired by anything
for him other than listening to the music. 4AD was the perfect
(35:12):
home to 23 envelope singular approach driven by instinct and
trust and ability to imagine. In archival audio from 1984,
Oliver and Grayson outlined their distinct approach.
I mean, it's almost like one person coming up with the same
ideas. He'll have ideas about the
design, the typography, I'll have ideas about the
(35:34):
photography. A lot of the things we'd like to
try couldn't actually be explained in a little thumbnail
sketch or in words initially anywhere.
That's why we're lucky here. And the bands do, in fact, rely
heavily on sort of fit. For some bands, the labeled look
(35:56):
seemed to over shadow their own identity, but for bands like
Lush, working with Oliver was a dream come true.
What I remember is going in and and meeting Vaughan being quite
cowed. He wasn't what I expected but I
had no idea how record companieswork.
I just thought they'd probably have this library of amazing
images. So having Vaughan actually
(36:19):
listen to the music and talk about the music and then relate
it to the visuals was a bit mindblowing.
I felt like a total imposter syndrome because it just seemed
ridiculous that this guy whose sleeves I'd had adorning my
bedroom for several years was actually paying attention to our
(36:40):
crappy songs. 23 envelopes. Intuitively driven work also
often lead to very specific ideas.
It was never about choices. You just got a sleeve by the
great Vaughn Oliver, as Simon Raymond remembers clearly when
they worked together years lateron covers for Bella Union.
You might be sat at home thinking, what's he doing?
(37:01):
How long does it take to come upwith something?
But it's not like other designers who do four or five
ideas and put them, put them on an e-mail and just go I've got
this and if you don't like that,I've got this.
He would just do the one idea. But when he presented the one to
you, it was so sophisticated andso in depth as to all the layers
(37:23):
and the explanations of why thisis like that.
And that has to be the flip sideof that.
And that's going to go there. He came with a thesis about why
this idea was absolutely the oneand and I guess that that's the
market of mine. Oliver was not a salesman
either, but his singular vision meant he was very adept at
convincing others to come aroundto his way of thinking, even
(37:45):
when there were seeds of doubt, as Raymond recalls when Oliver
designed the cover for I Brake Horses.
My initial thought was that it was just a bit too literal
because the band was called I Break Horses and he was using
horses and I just like, I don't know, this is a bit easy.
But when I saw what he'd done, Iwas like, oh, OK, that is
(38:07):
absolutely credible. And the artist loved it as well.
And her first, the EP and her first album are really iconic.
They're absolutely magnificent. It was a formula Oliver had
nurtured early on and one key tofour AD success.
By the mid-eighties, 23 Envelopehad become as important to the
label's identity as the musicians.
(38:28):
To his reputation, the R and thesound were inseparable.
You could recognize a 4AD release from across the room.
For designer Jonathan Baumbrook,who had worked with David Bowie,
he saw the label's singular vision as a win, win for all.
It was a trifecta of odds in hismind.
I don't even know what the artists thought about record
(38:49):
couples. Obviously, some of them loved.
Them but. I'm pretty sure it worked as a
thing for selling the album as well.
There was, Following the Boredom, specifically considered
war. Which is a very unique.
Position for a record company, so there's parameters, company
getting freedom and really good designer and are following an
(39:11):
audience which is over and abovejust the music.
He's pretty unique. Consequently, music fans and
design students like myself began turning up at the studio's
door in their droves, hoping to take away something mythical.
They were disciples in search oftheir Messiah, the created
genius, their God, and who usually left in disbelief that
(39:32):
their chosen one had made time for them.
For many of them, like Paul W Graham Wood, Chris Bick and
others, they were on a spiritualjourney in search of their
destiny. So I ended up doing graphic
design almost because I didn't really know anything about it
and everybody started talking about 23 envelope.
(39:55):
By the end of the first year, that's when Vaughan's influence
became a much more of a thing, and it was particularly his
psychography. And I got in contact with him to
write my dissertation about him and Vaughan wrote a lovely
letter saying Very excited that someone is taking us seriously.
(40:15):
Please come to Alma Rd. I remember walking in and just
this great big shaving headed bad in black guy meeting me and
just really gentle giant. So rang Vaughan, he said come
and see me and he took my littlemy first first year portfolio.
(40:37):
He was generally scathing but encouraged me and picked up on
the things, the lights or textures and used to typography
and all that sort of stuff. When I graduated, he then came
down to Brighton to see my degree show, which I was really
chuffed with, and he wrote a lovely little thing in my little
notebook. Please show some more in
Southwest 18. And I took along one of these
tiny little tape recorders there.
(40:58):
And he says, anyway, before you go, you'll be wanting a couple
of these. And he just took me downstairs.
And I couldn't quite believe it.To leave such coward offices
with more vinyl. And you can actually shake the
stick out. It was very nice, very, very
good to me. To be in that environment and to
be walking out with these objects of beauty was absolutely
(41:25):
phenomenal. The design of Vaughan Oliver
lived his whole life in the service of others.
Yet despite his relentless passion and heartfelt
dedication, his rapid rise to fame did not always lead him
down easy roads. In our next episode, Part 2 of
our story about one of England most important artists, we learn
(41:47):
more about his singular vision, how a band from Boston would
catapult him into the stratosphere of alternative
rock, how fans flocked from all over Europe to worship his work,
and we hear more from those who adored him.
We also learned that despite therecognition and the fame the
Grammy Awards exhibitions in Tokyo and Paris, his way forward
(42:08):
is not that simple. You can listen to Part 2 now as
we continue to unravel and rewind Vaughan Oliver's story.
This episode of Destroy was written and produced by Be Right
Back Studios with the generous support of Lee Widows.
A special thanks to everyone whoshared their time, their
memories, and their love for Vaughan.
(42:28):
Music for this episode was composed by Tokyo Iconic.
To see some of the artwork mentioned in this show, as well
as music videos and archival interviews, please visit
destroypunkpodcast.com. You can also support our show
via Patreon or follow us on Instagram at Destroy Punk
Podcast, or simply share this episode with someone who still
(42:49):
believes in the tactile and the oblique.
This has been another episode ofDestroy.
Thank you for listening and thank you, Vaughn, for
everything. My name is Richard Smith and I'm
your host. I'm a filmmaker and art director
and Once Upon a time I was part of the big 80s.
I designed record covers for Depeche Mode.
(43:11):
I danced with Bono, discussed art with Mick Jagger and drank
tea with Susie Sue. I also grew up during those
turbulent times in England in the late 70s and was driven by
the do it Yourself ethos of punk.
I obsessed over bands like Geordie, Vision and New Order
and went on to work for the album cover designer Peter
Savile. I believe that year, that moment
in 1976 when a bunch of foul mouthed jobs cursed and swore on
(43:33):
national television, changed thefuture of culture forever and is
what brought us to where we are today.
So where do we go from here? Will emerging new technologies
be the catalyst that tears down the walls of mediocrity,
throwing culture and society into chaos and revolution again?
We'll have to wait and see. destroyisaberightbackstudiosproductionlearnmore@berightbackstudios.com
(43:57):
And please tune in again for another episode of Destroy the
Influence of Punk podcast wherever you listen or download.
The archival audio used in this episode of Destroy is taken from
a variety of unknown sources. Every effort has been made to
use these clips responsibly concerning their original
creators for the purpose of education, commentary and
(44:19):
tribute. All rights remain with the
original rights holders.
Bourne would always say you can design a fantastic rattle cover,
but if it doesn't relate to the sound and the content then it's
a waste of time. It just looked the ugly side of
things, all the beautiful side of things, as a sort of
counterpoint to whatever the music was like.
The way he could weave his very offbeat, very visceral, very
(00:26):
dark references is wonderful. Vaughan was a visual poet.
The British graphic designer Vaughan Oliver was a towering
genius, brutally honest and deeply passionate.
He was passionate about football, Samuel Beckett, art
and film, and he was passionate about his family too.
(00:49):
He was also passionate about thecountless artists and musicians
he helped to personify. Vaughan was completely key to
4AD and Ivo has talked at great length about how the records,
they were artifacts and the artwork was very much a part of
that. And to many a Messiah. 4
(01:10):
occupied its own planet, and to any three envelope was a cult.
Just one of the most powerful influences we've ever had.
Above all, he was a singular visionary whose ideas and
philosophical approach to art and design have not been matched
since. He possessed the cerebral,
intellect averse Victoria and Bob Stanley Unwin like dark
(01:34):
sense of humor as well as a reverence for the beauty found
in blemishes and sublime visual poetry.
He was someone who, for Chris Big, that could be both charming
and almost impenetrable all at the same time.
Really shy but really outgoing. Very complicated.
Possibly the funniest person I've ever known.
(01:54):
He was hilarious. Tragically, in December 2019,
Vaughan Oliver died at the age of 62.
Author and designer Adrian Shaughnessy, who was one of
Vaughan's closest confidants, paints a portrait of someone who
lived life to the full. He lived a pretty rock'n'roll
life actually for quite a long time and he met Lee and I think
(02:18):
Lee saved him and it's just so tragic that he then died so
suddenly at his funeral. In his eulogy, designer Graham
Wood spoke of the exact moment he saw Vaughn's work for the
first time, a moment that would sear an indelible imprint on his
brain forever. He'd seen the Cocteau Twins
perform on TV and was enamoured by Elizabeth Fraser's
(02:40):
mesmerizing voice and presence. I've seen them perform on the
BBCI, can't remember the show and it had to have been a Sunday
night because I remember going to live in to school the next
morning then leaving school and going to a record shop and
seeing this cover is almost likenot being able to see something
(03:01):
you know? So I was seeing don't understand
this. It's making my mind buzz.
For a moment, he stood staring at the sleeve of the band's
song, Pearly Dew Drops Drops, a drifting melody layered in
acoustic ambiguity. The Graham Wood something
ignited in him that day. That sense of looking at things,
(03:23):
that slipping, glimpsing thing, that textual thing, you know,
just looking for the so weird inthe everyday or looking for the
texture on the pavement, lookingfor the mystery and the magic.
The record cover was rich in texture, multi layered and
visual poetry. It was a lush distillation of a
song that filled your imagination with both joy and
fantasy. Trembling with excitement, he
(03:45):
walked out and raced home to replay what he saw in his head
over and over again. In reciting from Vaughan's
eulogy, Graham Wood describes how this experience was almost
mythical. I felt I'd had an intimation of
the alchemical means to be able to make something from nothing
beyond inspiration. The visceral exchange had taken
(04:06):
place, a change of state, solid to liquid into air.
It was a moment of pure inspiration, a moment of
cerebral reconfiguration. It was a moment that also
inspired Word to forge a path tohimself when he formed his own
agency, Tomato, straight out of College in 1991, residing again
(04:28):
from his eulogy. Vaughan is the main reason I do
what I do. The first time I came across
Vaughan's work, it felt like my vision was slipping.
A peripheral glimpse of shimmering light, something oily
and decaying, transcendent. I didn't know what I was seeing
or how to see it. This was a deeply profound
experience. For Wood and scores of Vaughan's
(04:50):
disciples, moments like these were deeply profound.
Like for designer Jonathan Barnbrook.
I remember seeing a poster on the way to college for Fever by
X Man Deutschland. I remember seeing that and just
always wanted to kneel down and worship it.
From such a perfect relationshipimage and text and expression of
the music, they were otherworldly experiences, a
(05:14):
slipping glimpse as would recalled Vaughan liked to say.
Graham Woods poignant eulogy painted a portrait of someone
determined to see the world his way.
A man born from the working class grit of Newcastle who
tumbled head first into a world of Sonic outsiders and non
(05:35):
conformist dreamers. A world that eventually allowed
him to have the creative freedomhe always yeared for.
In 1982, he stumbled through thedoor at record label 4AD and
never looked back. In archival audio from a
documentary filmed in 1984, Oliver explains why his time
(05:55):
AT4AD was so important. I couldn't work for another
record sleeve design company, I couldn't work for another record
company. I couldn't be an art director in
a company other than this. I'd buy Cocktail Twins records,
colour box records. I like the idea of having them
in my house against the wall with my rendition, my visual
(06:20):
rendition of that music inside of them.
It is as personal as that. But throughout his life,
Oliver's work was never just about design.
It was also about immersing yourself in an abstract world
filled with intricate arcane delights.
He liked to say it was all aboutexpressing the mystery and the
ambiguity, painting a picture ofsomething invisible, something
(06:43):
that could only be felt in your heart and your mind.
Before AD founder Ivo Watts Russell, it was simpler.
I like the idea of the sleeve seducing you into its world, he
once said in an interview. Hey there, sorry for the
interruption, but if you're enjoying the show, please
support us on Patreon or follow us on Instagram at Destroypoint
(07:05):
Podcast. Now back to the show.
This episode of Destroy is the story of Vaughn Oliver, a soft
spoken creative revolutionary who one day made his way from
County Durham in northern England to the gritty suburbs of
southwest London and redefined the visual landscape of music
(07:27):
forever. It's a story about a prolific
designer who never chased financial prosperity or the
traditional path to success. He simply chased his
imagination, the burning desire to turn record sleeves into
semiotic symbols of myth, steeped in joy and exuberance,
to create powerful, enigmatic and emotional visual languages
(07:47):
for bands and artists that have not been matched in music's
history since. It's a story about someone who,
over 4 decades, helped shape thepersonas of bands like Pixies,
Cocteau, Twins, XML, Deutschland, This Mortal Coil,
and countless more. Someone whose sleeves weren't
just a piece of packaging. They were portals like Beckett.
(08:09):
They were riddles, invitations to explore your mind.
Perhaps my best years are. Gone.
When there was a chance of happening.
But I wouldn't want them back, not with the fire.
(08:31):
In me. Now no, I wouldn't want them
back and. When Oliver died on December
29th, 2019, the sense of loss echoed not just among his
family, but throughout the entire creative community.
Among those gathered at his funeral were former students,
(08:53):
long time collaborators and artist who loved him.
People whose lives had been transformed by his work, touched
by his presence. One of them, artist and designer
Paul W, upon reflection, summarized it all.
Going to his funeral was such anincredible thing.
(09:14):
That. All the old faces there, the
people that you'd seen along theway, managers, bands.
And the wonderful thing about football, of course, was it was
the man, the myth, the designer,but it was also the caring
husband, the father who was at his son's every single football
match and his best friend from school giving him eulogy in, in
(09:37):
in tears. And and that's when you see the
measure of the man. You just realized how many
facets Vaughan had to him. He was just such a caring dosing
individual. And that never, ever went away.
And that's how I remember him. He was just very nurturing in.
This special episode of Destroy we hear from many more of the
people who work beside Vaughan Oliver, were taught by him, were
(09:58):
challenged by him and were also moved by him.
We hear from many of those who loved him, who felt indebted to
his passion, lush vocalist Mickey Barenni, Cocteau Twins
bass player Simon Raymond and designer Jonathan Bombruck, as
well as his long time creative partner Chris Big.
In archival audio we also hear the voices of Nigel Grierson,
(10:20):
Ivor Watts, Russell and Oliver Two.
We return to the beginning to understand how one man redefined
the way music could look and feel.
We unravel Oliver's last tape and rewind.
My name is Richard Smith and I'myour host.
I too was a fan of Vaughan Oliver and his work at 4AD, and
(10:41):
I too received the benefit of his generosity when I still was
at college trying to navigate the art of design.
This special episode is a testament to Vaughan Oliver's
creativity, his influence, and his legacy.
Welcome to Destroy. Rockers.
Raw. Outrageous and crude.
(11:02):
The new craze, they tell them. More into.
Chaos than anything else. People.
Really. Don't understand what kids want?
Worthless. Nasty.
Now hero you. Have to destroy in order to
create. Destroy is produced by B Right
Back Studios. Visit
brightbackstudios.com/destroy tolearn more.
(11:22):
If you're enjoying the show, visit our website
destroypunkpodcast.com to learn more about every episode,
including interview transcripts,show notes, music videos,
curated playlists, and more. Thank you for listening.
Are you sitting Captain Bowl to square on your body?
(11:45):
Then we'll begin. The comedic actor Stanley Unwin
loved word games, often creatingoral concoctions of banal
idiosyncrasies. Idiosyncrasies that often played
games with your brain. They made you wonder.
And much like the work of Vaughan Oliver, they made you
think, and sometimes think twice.
(12:09):
Born on September 12th 1957, Vaughan Oliver grew up in Newton
Aycliffe, County Durham, a new town built by the British
government in the wake of the Second World War.
It was an experiment to rehouse working families in tidy red
brick blocks. It was a way to compartmentalize
the masses in neat, controlled order.
(12:29):
It was dull, uniform, linear. The sky was a constant shade of
grey and there were rows and rows of council houses with grim
views of smokestacks billowing out pollution far off in the
distance. It was not a place known for
beauty, let alone revolution or art.
There were no galleries in Newton Aycliffe, no idealist in
(12:51):
the fields of steel and ore, no masters of reinvention.
For Oliver, it was a place devoid of inspiration.
He described it as having no real culture, and that his
parents weren't interested in anything unusual either.
Everything he got was through record sleeves.
For him, he said, it was a way of discovering art.
(13:11):
Yet despite its lack of stimulation, it was a heritage
he was proud of. As author and designer Adrian
Shaughnessy explains, he came from incredibly modest
backgrounds. He lived in a little village
surrounded by the northeast of England.
His father was an electrician and he was very attached to his
(13:33):
location where he grew up. His upbringing might have been
confined by conformity, but it never impacted his imagination.
In an interview reflecting on his childhood, Oliver once said.
I was a working class lad from adull town.
The local record shop was an artgallery for me.
The dishevelled final section athis local Woolworths was a haven
(13:56):
for the youthful Oliver. His cramped interior was stacked
with racks of album sleeves, simple 12 inch squares filled
with possibility clues to something richer, stranger, more
alive for him. They weren't just products on a
shelf. They were guys to a promised
land that would one day set his imagination free.
Weekend after weekend he would tramp down the High Street
(14:19):
through the pelting rain and spent hours flipping through the
stacks of records, poring over sleeves by hypnosis, new
releases from Factory and Rough Trade, as well as albums
designed by his hero, the illustrator Roger Dean.
But he didn't just look, he absorbed.
He engulfed himself in these symbolic messages, the obscure
(14:39):
visual references. A cow, a Man on Fire, a stark
black and white pulsar, exotic multi colored fantasy, a
Tangerine Dream. It was heaven and he was getting
addicted. At Fairy Hill Comprehensive, his
towns Coed secondary school located on Merrington Road, he
(15:02):
met a kindred spirit by the nameof Nigel Grierson.
Grierson, another lanky, scruffyteenage upstart, was also
spellbound by the intoxicating nature of the record sleeve and
dreamt of a way out of the stifling boredom.
Through their surreal pictures and visceral sounds, Grierson
and Oliver inevity became inseparable. 2 obsessive
(15:23):
dreamers. Restless LS Lowry like
matchstick men in cloth hats andworking class boots, both driven
by the same curiosity, the same sense that something important
was happening out there and theywanted in.
Together they found themselves at Newcastle Polytechnic, one
year apart, both under the spellof the enigmatic artist and
(15:44):
illustrator Terry Dowling. Dowling, a design educator who
cared little for Joseph Muller, Brockman's Helvetica inspired
modernism and perfectly aligned grids, was simply there to
awaken their instinct. His mantra was even more
powerful. To suggest this, to create, to
describe, is to destroy the designer and former V23
(16:05):
collaborator Tim O'Donnell. It was a mantra that Oliver
lived by. That's like the perfect
encapsulation of all of it, right?
It's like you don't want to describe it and take away all of
the room for the viewer to bringtheir own experience to it.
So you just give some cues and let them bring their own
thoughts to it. It was also Dowling who
introduced Vaughn to the work ofthe surrealist like Marcel
(16:27):
Duchamp and Salvador Dali, to the grandiose work of the pop
artist Robert Rauschenberg, to the delicate animations by the
Quay Brothers illustration, and to the idea that collage and
chaos could both speak louder than precision and Bauhaus style
uniformity any day. The designer Graham Wood.
It was all about letting your imagination run wild.
(16:50):
It's about about this sort of freedom, that sense of letting
things be what they want to be and take on their own life, and
discovering through the details of art the things that make the
heart open. From that point on, Vaughan came
to realize the language of his art was never going to be in the
(17:10):
rigor of life drawing or the conventions of color theory or
leveraging typical visual tropes.
Downing's mantra sent him on a different path, filled with
abstract textures, multiple layers of type and imagery
filled with questions and so much uncertainty.
But artist and designer Paul W. It spoke to something almost
poetic, musical. I can remember seeing born
(17:34):
story, early scrapbooks, and thetypography is all there.
You know, this is things. I think in like Newcastle, he
would collect ephemera, he wouldcollect all these things.
He fused his typography and his choice of imagery so well that
it could only have come from this lyrical sensibility,
really. Oliver Dowling's philosophy
(17:56):
ignited a profound awakening, opening up his mind to a deep
love for finding the extraordinary in the everyday,
to an intoxicating love of inky veneers, the seductive tingle
you felt in your fingertips whenpulp and fibre and image and
sound all came together in a climatic surprise.
From the very start, as Oliver explains in audio from 1984, he
(18:20):
wanted to make something that couldn't be explained.
His instinct was only ever to evoke.
It's in the form of packaging. Cynically, it's packaging the
product, but I think we've got alot more opportunity in this to
do something that's more sympathetic with the product and
more sympathetic to the music. If he wanted to make something
(18:41):
that couldn't be explained, his instinct was only ever to evoke.
In the next few weeks we will belaunching a brand new season
called Voices of Protest. It's going to be a little
different, but we have a really great line up of really
interesting guests. Follow us on Instagram at
Destroy Punk Podcast for more details.
(19:01):
Now back to the show. Those post punk ricocheted
through England during the early1980s.
London became the gravitational centre for every young artist
chasing a dream. It was the country's throbbing
centre of creativity. St. style and the hedonistic new
music scenes, new wave, synth pop, shoulder pads, big hair.
(19:24):
English society was on an upwardswing and Vaughan Oliver
followed its draft, graduating in 1979.
He headed South, stepping off the train at London's King's
Cross. He arrived in the capital with
hopes and desires of his own. With nothing more than a
portfolio under his arm, he wentin search of a home.
(19:45):
A creative home that would celebrate his passion for
abstract poetry and chaotic, ethereal beauty.
One that would celebrate Dowling's describe suggest
philosophy that he loved so much.
He was excited, hopeful. London was, after all,
celebrating its creative prowess, especially with the
likes of Peter Savile and Malcolm Garrett and his friend
(20:05):
Neville Brody all capitalizing on the city's new found
prosperity and music. His true love was the driver.
Record sleeves were fast becoming the windows into new
music, as Paul West explains. All the way through the whole
punk explosion into new waves. Of course, the sleeves were such
vanguards of the music, but it'sjust not the process of
(20:28):
absorbing the front cover. It's looking at the on bodies
and the labels and just seeing this incredible language.
And Vaughan was ready to capitalize on this new Sonic
explosion. But it wasn't a straight line
getting there. Dewey eyed.
He took a job at the distinguished Michael Peters and
Partners who, according to some,were considered one of the most
(20:48):
reputable and prestigious designfirms in the country.
They were responsible for the groundbreaking packaging for
brands like Heinz and Windsor and Newton, or so he was told.
For any recent graduate, it was a plum job, especially one far
away from home. It was also steady work, very
polished, very tidy, very nice, but very obvious, very corporate
(21:10):
and very, very predictable. His mother and father no doubt
saw it as a success. He hated it.
Creativity at MPP, unlike the work of his heroes like David
Lynch and Werner Herzog, followed 3 simple priorities,
deadlines, clients and rational outcomes.
That was all. But Oliver, It meant nothing.
(21:33):
A far cry from those rain soakeddays spent swooning over, yes,
covers and Roger Dean artwork athis local Woolies.
According to Oliver, it was the disposable nature of the work he
despised most. In audio captured in the early
80s, he explains why. I worked for a mainstream
packaging design group that had a name and would work on
something like a big bean pack for a big bean chain to work on
(21:57):
that for nine months and nobody recognized the difference
between the previous pack. I mean, it's a much more subtle
approach. Imagining a future filled with
baked bean tins, he found the tedium of working on something
over and over again futile. The lack of creativity was
stifling. I don't like the idea of working
on something for nine months andthen people are putting it in
(22:18):
the dustbin. For young and ambitious Oliver,
his work wasn't garbage. His work was to be cherished,
loved. He longed to get work in the
blossoming music industry. He wanted to chase his
imagination, to find somewhere he could design with emotion,
not for commerce or some asininecustomer focus group.
It was about creating something much more personal.
(22:41):
I like the idea people taking a record sleeve home find out a
little bit more inside on the onthe inner sleeve and then on the
label, then on the front and theback.
He wanted a way out of MPP fast.He wanted to keep moving his
creativity forward, discover like minded souls.
(23:01):
Fortuitously, a door opened AT4AD. 4AD was a different kind
of record label that was quietlytaking shape on Alma Rd. in
Wandsworth, neglected part of southwest London, where someone
else was thinking it was also time to get out.
Ivo Watts Russell, a softly spoken former A&R man at
(23:22):
Beggar's Banquet, had grown disillusioned with the business
as usual nature of the bloated record industry.
He dreamed of something more poetic, less product focused,
more driven by feelings and intuition.
Somewhere for artists to experiment and shine, somewhere
that believed as he did in releasing a record for a record
sake. In 1980, he founded 4 ADA label
(23:46):
that would become a sanctuary for the strange, the beautiful
and often times challenging music that provoked the status
quo prevalent in the music charts of the day.
Randomly, Ivo and Vaughn both found themselves at the same
hedonistic party thrown by an aspiring post punk upstart, but
what's Russell and Oliver? It was a collision of hedonism
(24:07):
that would cement a fertile symbiotic relationship.
From that day forth, Oliver, never typically 1 to brag,
described the moment in succinctbrevity.
I was lucky we got him very well.
He valued the importance of record sleeves too.
It was the beginning, the start of it all.
In 1982, born Oliver had joined 4AD as its first full time
(24:31):
employee, and with him came his friend and former classmate
Nigel Greerson. Setting up shop in the corner of
the box strewn offices AT4AD Alma Rd.
Grierson and Oliver created a haven for themselves, a place
where musicians and artists of any stripe could feel welcome to
pop by and collaborate on Oliverand Grierson's ideas in real
(24:52):
time. They called themselves 23
Envelope, a name that meant nothing and everything all at
the same time. It was a cipher, a puzzle, an
invitation to want to know more.It quickly became code for
originality, innovation and cherished individualism.
Paul Wes recalls how 23 envelopes enigmatic identity
(25:14):
filled him with intrigue. All I can.
Remember is just suddenly seeingthis strange 23 E logo alongside
4AD, thinking this is like some incredible pact, what's going
on? And I just had to find more of
it. I just had to get into it.
For Ivo Watts Russell, it was a special place, one where the
(25:35):
packaging and the music were fully intertwined.
Audio from the early 80s. He lays out his vision for
wanting to not be seen as part of the established music scene.
It's important that people who. Have associated 23 envelope with
already. With certain groups.
That they see this continue to this progression.
Going on and that it is still sovastly different from the
(25:56):
mainstream. From the start, the studio
operated unlike anywhere else. Nikki Bareni, whose band Lush
signed to Four ADA few years later, saw it as a privileged
opportunity founded on a creative desire to create
something unique. Ivo was totally empathetic to
Vaughan and totally admired his work.
(26:17):
It was an incredible freedom forVaughan to do whatever he
wanted, and it's quite intellectual.
But you almost don't need the band title, because once Vaughan
comes up with a sleeve is in itself so different to
everything else that it is instantly recognizable.
There were no briefs, no Marxingteams, and Ivo trusted Grierson
(26:37):
and Oliver implicitly. The creative choices they made,
the musical signings they helpedscrutinize, and the elaborate
concepts it all. It wasn't about creating obscure
visual references. It was about something deeper in
archival audio, Nigel Grayson elaborates.
(26:58):
I think there's quite a difference between the words
pretentious and precious. But if you look at the finished
sleeves, to me the preciousness implies some kind of more
analytical, logical series of steps rather than a kind of
intuitive, spontaneous approach.As I've explained in an
(27:18):
interview at the time, their obsessive nature reflected my
fanatical fascination for the music perfectly, and buying a
4AD record became about more than simply wanting to hear the
music. It was about wanting to enter
the universe that everyone, and most importantly, the artist,
had created. Mickey Berenyi.
(27:39):
The symbiotic relationship was monumental.
Vaughan was completely key to 4AD and Ivo has talked at great
length about how the records they were artefacts and the
artwork was very much a part of that.
In an industry filled with countless sycophants and bottom
(27:59):
feeders, the freedom they had was rare, and it allowed Oliver
and Grierson to create ideas built on a typical ideals.
The temptation always is with marketing women in music is to
exploit their attractiveness. But I think for us in
particular, the idea of being on4 ADP with these amazing sleeve,
(28:19):
it's a label that doesn't exploit you in the way that a
major label would. And being able to sidestep that
process, that you don't have to be part of the marketing as it
were, was really liberating. In audio from the early 80s,
Oliver also points to his process as being key to the
label's success. We all start to push things that
(28:40):
something's going to be more true to the product, to the
record, to the music. It's enough to intrigue, to want
to take it home, to find out a little bit more inside on the
inner sleeve and then on the label.
We never approached things from that angle.
We never considered creative ideas pushed to one side for the
sake of the one that would sell.From the outside, 4AD was an
(29:04):
unglamorous, nondescript warehouse like concrete slab.
But the pilgrims were never there for the glamour.
They were there for their hero to learn where his ideas came
from, a glimpse into reality to understand.
Graham Wood, who was an early disciple, was mesmerized.
Because like, when I went to Florida, I was like, that's so
(29:24):
strange. It's not in the solo.
It's not in the middle of everywhere with everyone hanging
out doing stuff. It was a very insular thing, you
know? It was like pointing their own
little guy. For Nigel Grierson, they were
often developing intuitive manifestations of songs which
often had ambiguous, intangible meanings.
I think the most important thingabout our approach to record
(29:45):
cause is that and the most unique thing really is that we
try to achieve an image quality which is at more abstract and
closer to the feeling of the music, to capture the atmosphere
and the more formal aspects of the music.
Brierson and Oliver's images were like poetic puzzles,
(30:08):
composed of fragments of glass, gore, steam rising from a lake,
faces submerged in a blur, half seen, half familiar, half
perceptible, a reverberation of sound, silence and abstract
extremes. It was an approach to design
built on suggestion and seduction, never to describe,
(30:28):
only to enjoy. Each new project was an active
trust of letting go. They welcomed errors, chased
every accident as Cocteau Twins bass player and founder of Bella
Union record Simon Raymond remembers well.
He just looked the ugly side of things or the beautiful side of
things as as a sort of counterpoint to whatever the
(30:48):
music was. Like somebody that just looks at
something and goes looks brilliant.
I'm using it and I think we werevery much like that with music.
Nothing was formally composed. Ideas were always on earth,
attended to with love and care. Stumbled upon in the darkness,
an overexposed print, a reflection bounced off the wall.
(31:10):
For Chris Big, who joined 23 Envelopes straight from college,
the studio environment was invigorating.
We had a big wall in the student.
Not a big wall, but it pinned things up when you'd hear Ivo
would say we've got this band, his name's Alive.
Thinking of doing the album in October, maybe get some ideas
together, listen to the music. So there was always this churn
(31:32):
of demos, bands coming in. That was the beauty of it.
That was the best time because Ifelt like I was involved in
something bigger than just beinga graphic designer.
The studio was also working withPMTS, or photo mechanical
transfer cameras. Building collage is a found
object, distorted slides resulting in long hot tempered
(31:53):
hours in the darkroom under bright lights and the odor of
sulfates. Tim O'Donnell remembers how he
and Vaughn leaned into their technical failings.
A lot of the textural stuff, mostly it was PMT's done wrong
because I didn't know how to operate the things.
But it was a lot of peeling apart the papers before they
were fully exposed. But there'd be something in them
(32:15):
that was really interesting and we would run with it.
Something comes out by mistake doesn't mean that it's wrong.
For Jonathan Bombruk, the technique was revolutionary, the
way he creatively used the darkroom where he used a PMT
camera. I've checked some gang called
Transfer. Camera.
(32:36):
I've never seen that aesthetic. It just was a level above
everybody else. For author and designer Adrian
Shaughnessy, who published a book of Oliver's entire archive
in 2018 titled VO Archive, whichincluded many of his original
PMT images, Shaughnessy found all of his approach to image
making way ahead of its time. You can look.
(32:58):
At half a dozen born sleeves. And he uses the baseboard of the
PMT canvas. He'd used it just like the later
generations came to use Photoshop.
It was a physicality Vaughan held on to, even as the design
world around him started to embrace digital design,
something that for him was an anathema.
(33:20):
Yet many of those who worked with him understood it was not
part of how his ideas took shape, even though eventually he
knew he had to embrace the technology's rapid invasion.
Born Oliver resisted the computer most of his life.
Really. I think he was the last not
(33:41):
music designer, the last designer in London to actually
give over and say OK, we've got to do it.
He steadfastly refused to go that way over the years.
He was said no, that's not how Ican work.
I have to see it on a board and I have to move things around
physically to see how it worked.I understand like it's, it's,
(34:05):
it's at a remove from cutting something on a scalpel and
pasting it down and sizing it just based on what feels right
as opposed to we have to choose a number.
You know, the whole lives of these days dictated by this
screen, and it's not the perspective anymore.
We can't sort of match one thingwith another on an iPhone.
(34:29):
He really struggled with it for a long time.
It was hard for it to make mistakes.
He hated it. He hated it.
He really hated it. It felt far away.
It was like swimming with Wellington boots on.
The Simon Raymond Oliver's more emotional approach also
illustrated why using her computer didn't make sense for
(34:50):
him. He would listen to the music
over and over again and just close his eyes and just imagine
stuff. What can I see here?
What can I imagine? Even if it had nothing to do
with anything in particular, that's how he would come up with
his ideas. And I think that's the beauty of
it. He wasn't inspired by anything
for him other than listening to the music. 4AD was the perfect
(35:12):
home to 23 envelope singular approach driven by instinct and
trust and ability to imagine. In archival audio from 1984,
Oliver and Grayson outlined their distinct approach.
I mean, it's almost like one person coming up with the same
ideas. He'll have ideas about the
design, the typography, I'll have ideas about the
(35:34):
photography. A lot of the things we'd like to
try couldn't actually be explained in a little thumbnail
sketch or in words initially anywhere.
That's why we're lucky here. And the bands do, in fact, rely
heavily on sort of fit. For some bands, the labeled look
(35:56):
seemed to over shadow their own identity, but for bands like
Lush, working with Oliver was a dream come true.
What I remember is going in and and meeting Vaughan being quite
cowed. He wasn't what I expected but I
had no idea how record companieswork.
I just thought they'd probably have this library of amazing
images. So having Vaughan actually
(36:19):
listen to the music and talk about the music and then relate
it to the visuals was a bit mindblowing.
I felt like a total imposter syndrome because it just seemed
ridiculous that this guy whose sleeves I'd had adorning my
bedroom for several years was actually paying attention to our
(36:40):
crappy songs. 23 envelopes. Intuitively driven work also
often lead to very specific ideas.
It was never about choices. You just got a sleeve by the
great Vaughn Oliver, as Simon Raymond remembers clearly when
they worked together years lateron covers for Bella Union.
You might be sat at home thinking, what's he doing?
(37:01):
How long does it take to come upwith something?
But it's not like other designers who do four or five
ideas and put them, put them on an e-mail and just go I've got
this and if you don't like that,I've got this.
He would just do the one idea. But when he presented the one to
you, it was so sophisticated andso in depth as to all the layers
(37:23):
and the explanations of why thisis like that.
And that has to be the flip sideof that.
And that's going to go there. He came with a thesis about why
this idea was absolutely the oneand and I guess that that's the
market of mine. Oliver was not a salesman
either, but his singular vision meant he was very adept at
convincing others to come aroundto his way of thinking, even
(37:45):
when there were seeds of doubt, as Raymond recalls when Oliver
designed the cover for I Brake Horses.
My initial thought was that it was just a bit too literal
because the band was called I Break Horses and he was using
horses and I just like, I don't know, this is a bit easy.
But when I saw what he'd done, Iwas like, oh, OK, that is
(38:07):
absolutely credible. And the artist loved it as well.
And her first, the EP and her first album are really iconic.
They're absolutely magnificent. It was a formula Oliver had
nurtured early on and one key tofour AD success.
By the mid-eighties, 23 Envelopehad become as important to the
label's identity as the musicians.
(38:28):
To his reputation, the R and thesound were inseparable.
You could recognize a 4AD release from across the room.
For designer Jonathan Baumbrook,who had worked with David Bowie,
he saw the label's singular vision as a win, win for all.
It was a trifecta of odds in hismind.
I don't even know what the artists thought about record
(38:49):
couples. Obviously, some of them loved.
Them but. I'm pretty sure it worked as a
thing for selling the album as well.
There was, Following the Boredom, specifically considered
war. Which is a very unique.
Position for a record company, so there's parameters, company
getting freedom and really good designer and are following an
(39:11):
audience which is over and abovejust the music.
He's pretty unique. Consequently, music fans and
design students like myself began turning up at the studio's
door in their droves, hoping to take away something mythical.
They were disciples in search oftheir Messiah, the created
genius, their God, and who usually left in disbelief that
(39:32):
their chosen one had made time for them.
For many of them, like Paul W Graham Wood, Chris Bick and
others, they were on a spiritualjourney in search of their
destiny. So I ended up doing graphic
design almost because I didn't really know anything about it
and everybody started talking about 23 envelope.
(39:55):
By the end of the first year, that's when Vaughan's influence
became a much more of a thing, and it was particularly his
psychography. And I got in contact with him to
write my dissertation about him and Vaughan wrote a lovely
letter saying Very excited that someone is taking us seriously.
(40:15):
Please come to Alma Rd. I remember walking in and just
this great big shaving headed bad in black guy meeting me and
just really gentle giant. So rang Vaughan, he said come
and see me and he took my littlemy first first year portfolio.
(40:37):
He was generally scathing but encouraged me and picked up on
the things, the lights or textures and used to typography
and all that sort of stuff. When I graduated, he then came
down to Brighton to see my degree show, which I was really
chuffed with, and he wrote a lovely little thing in my little
notebook. Please show some more in
Southwest 18. And I took along one of these
tiny little tape recorders there.
(40:58):
And he says, anyway, before you go, you'll be wanting a couple
of these. And he just took me downstairs.
And I couldn't quite believe it.To leave such coward offices
with more vinyl. And you can actually shake the
stick out. It was very nice, very, very
good to me. To be in that environment and to
be walking out with these objects of beauty was absolutely
(41:25):
phenomenal. The design of Vaughan Oliver
lived his whole life in the service of others.
Yet despite his relentless passion and heartfelt
dedication, his rapid rise to fame did not always lead him
down easy roads. In our next episode, Part 2 of
our story about one of England most important artists, we learn
(41:47):
more about his singular vision, how a band from Boston would
catapult him into the stratosphere of alternative
rock, how fans flocked from all over Europe to worship his work,
and we hear more from those who adored him.
We also learned that despite therecognition and the fame the
Grammy Awards exhibitions in Tokyo and Paris, his way forward
(42:08):
is not that simple. You can listen to Part 2 now as
we continue to unravel and rewind Vaughan Oliver's story.
This episode of Destroy was written and produced by Be Right
Back Studios with the generous support of Lee Widows.
A special thanks to everyone whoshared their time, their
memories, and their love for Vaughan.
(42:28):
Music for this episode was composed by Tokyo Iconic.
To see some of the artwork mentioned in this show, as well
as music videos and archival interviews, please visit
destroypunkpodcast.com. You can also support our show
via Patreon or follow us on Instagram at Destroy Punk
Podcast, or simply share this episode with someone who still
(42:49):
believes in the tactile and the oblique.
This has been another episode ofDestroy.
Thank you for listening and thank you, Vaughn, for
everything. My name is Richard Smith and I'm
your host. I'm a filmmaker and art director
and Once Upon a time I was part of the big 80s.
I designed record covers for Depeche Mode.
(43:11):
I danced with Bono, discussed art with Mick Jagger and drank
tea with Susie Sue. I also grew up during those
turbulent times in England in the late 70s and was driven by
the do it Yourself ethos of punk.
I obsessed over bands like Geordie, Vision and New Order
and went on to work for the album cover designer Peter
Savile. I believe that year, that moment
in 1976 when a bunch of foul mouthed jobs cursed and swore on
(43:33):
national television, changed thefuture of culture forever and is
what brought us to where we are today.
So where do we go from here? Will emerging new technologies
be the catalyst that tears down the walls of mediocrity,
throwing culture and society into chaos and revolution again?
We'll have to wait and see. destroyisaberightbackstudiosproductionlearnmore@berightbackstudios.com
(43:57):
And please tune in again for another episode of Destroy the
Influence of Punk podcast wherever you listen or download.
The archival audio used in this episode of Destroy is taken from
a variety of unknown sources. Every effort has been made to
use these clips responsibly concerning their original
creators for the purpose of education, commentary and
(44:19):
tribute. All rights remain with the
original rights holders.
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