The bizarre story of Liverpool’s The La’s is without equal. They are a band that formed in 1983 and, theoretically, are still in existence, and yet they have only ever released one studio album. They are also a band with more former members than there are numbers on a dartboard; many of those rarely lasting more than a few months. The reason for such personnel profligacy undoubtedly lies at the door of Lee Mavers, the band’s co-founder and singer-songwriter. Leading up to that eponymous debut, back in 1990, Mavers continually shuffled his deck of bandmates and producers (often having it forced upon him by record label pressure), and made them record and re-record tracks over and over again in an attempt to perfect every note so that each song mirrored the particular emotion he desired so badly. Even after it‘s release, it became clear that still all was not well. With Mavers’ self-doubt now stronger than ever before, and with him rarely appearing in public, producer Steve Lilywhite has tellingly suggested that the reason the band have never made another album is because, according to Mavers, they are yet to complete their first.

Callin’ All goes a long way to documenting the ongoing story of this search for perfection in sound. There are rehearsal out-takes, unreleased, acoustic and radio versions of songs, b-sides, and a multitude of live versions to chew on. It’s a music geek’s wet dream but, with the band’s debut having achieving cult status, this release will undoubtedly pique the curiosity of more than just the fanatics.

Mavers’ songwriting brilliance is here for all to see and remains an inspiration today – without The La’s we’d never have bands like The Kooks, The Arctic Monkeys or The Fratellis. There have been previous La’s compilations that have covered similar ground but you can’t argue with so many rough-and-ready, multi-hued versions of favourites from their debut and accompanying rarities. These are brilliant songs, that just don’t seem to age – tracks like ‘Liberty Ship’ (including the original demo that Mavers so cherished) and ‘Doledrum’, that channel the free spirit of The Beatles, and others like ‘Timeless Melody’ and ‘Son Of A Gun’ (check the balls-out acoustic version) which drip with Northern Soul. Then there are oddities like the marching band soldiering of ‘Clean Prophet’, the 60s rock chic of ‘Knock Me Down’ or ‘I Am The Key’ that simply swaggers along in true Stone Roses style.

For a four-disc compliation, it is a disappointment to find so much of it covered by live material, but with a pristine recording of their show at the Town & Country Club in 1989 included, it’s a fine chance to understand just how well their mere smattering of songs work when performed in a live environment. Often, this is where the most accessible versions of the songs can be found – Mavers seems to bust a gut to ram home the dreamy pitch of ‘There She Goes’, whilst Power’s magnificent riff unfurls it’s way beautifully into the arms of a joyful crowd.

The promise of a sophomore album is both never and ever-present and collectables like this one only serve to fuel our hankering for it. At the end of the day though, 20 years on now from their only studio album, many of us have resigned ourselves to the fact that Mavers will never sign on the dotted line for fear of further imperfection. This release, therefore, serves mainly as an illusory teaser to an impossible dream.