A good cover version is all about interpretation. ‘Money’ is a case in point. Having applied a postmodern hatchet to Eddie Cochran’s ‘Summertime Blues’ on their first single, to a sea of shrugs, Flying Lizards’ minimalist, quirky take on Barrett Strong’s relatable urge for lolly felt vitally prescient amid a down-at-heel economy. A perfect symbiosis of musician/producer David Cunningham leftfield urges and Deborah Evans-Stickland’s curiously robotic vocals, the fact it was recorded in a cold meat fridge in Brixton for the princely sum of £6.50 was not lost on its creators. But if ‘Money’ was about the Lizards burrowing beneath the layers of their chosen material in order to satirise it, then they really took a hatchet to it on ‘Money B’. Although it starts with the same instantly recognisable biscuit tin drums as the A-side, it quickly modulates into something much darker and more unsettling, as echoing effects pan around a dread bass figure, achieved by Cunningham placing ashtrays, sheet music and rubber toys over a piano’s strings. It was a fittingly oddball approach on a single that seemed to attract an oddball audience, picking up steam weeks after Virgin’s promotional campaign had ceased, entering the UK top ten at roughly the same time Thatcher entered number 10, and forever conferring one-hit-wonder status on its creators. Cunningham would extend its anything-goes approach to a whole LP of bass-driven meditations, The Secret Dub Life of the Flying Lizards, belatedly issued in 1995.