The sound of imperfection

Somewhere in late-’80s Liverpool, Lee Mavers was chasing something no one else could hear. Not just a song or an album—something bigger. A sound. A feeling. The kind of thing that, if captured just right, could change everything.

The problem? He never caught it.

Mavers was the frontman of "The La’s", a band that could have ruled the world but instead left behind only one studio album—an album that Mavers famously hated. And yet, it contained "There She Goes", a song frequently hailed as the "perfect" pop song.

Think about that for a second. The man who spent his career rejecting everything as "not quite right" accidentally wrote something that music critics, fellow artists, and casual listeners all agreed was flawless. That should be a punchline, but in Mavers' case, it’s a tragedy.

The sound in his head vs. the sound on tape

What exactly was wrong? According to Mavers, everything.

He scrapped recording sessions, fired producers, and dismissed entire versions of "The La’s" album (1990) because they didn’t match the sound he heard in his head. John Porter’s production? Too polished. Mike Hedges’ version? Lacked rawness. Even Steve Lillywhite’s final mix, who produced albums for U2, The Rolling Stones, XTC, and Morrissey, was, in his own words, dead before it was even born.

He became obsessed with the idea that modern studios were ruining music. He rejected state-of-the-art equipment, claiming that only “dust-covered” gear from the ‘60s could capture the right energy. There’s even a story that he refused to record until he found a mixing desk with “original dust” on it, as if authenticity could be measured in layers of grime.

The irony? "The La’s" self-titled album is a masterpiece. Raw, immediate, and packed with the kind of energy that most bands would kill for. To everyone but Mavers, it was already great.

The bands that ran with It

But while Mavers was stuck in a loop of dissatisfaction, others took his blueprint and ran with it.

The La’s were, in many ways, the missing link between The Beatles and so called "Britpop". Noel Gallagher has openly admitted that "Definitely Maybe" was him trying to write "There She Goes" over and over again. Oasis took The La’s formula—jangly guitars, no-frills songwriting, a frontman with an attitude—and turned it into a global phenomenon.

Blur’s early work? Heavily indebted to The La’s. Even Cast, the band formed by former La’s bassist John Power, became bigger than The La’s ever were—precisely because Power got tired of waiting for Mavers’ mythical perfect record to materialise.

And it didn’t stop there. The Strokes, Arctic Monkeys, The Libertines and even modern indie bands like Fontaines DC owe a debt to the sound that Mavers was so convinced wasn’t good enough. Meanwhile, he faded into myth, appearing sporadically, always hinting at a second album that never came.

Imperfection is the point

Mavers’ story is a cautionary tale for anyone who creates. Perfectionism can feel like a noble pursuit, but more often than not, it’s a trap. It convinces you that your work is never ready, never worthy of release. But the truth is, the things we cherish most—the music, the ideas, the art—are rarely flawless. They don’t need to be.

Think about the records that move you. It’s the small imperfections—the crack in a singer’s voice, the unintentional distortion in a guitar riff, the messy spontaneity of a live take—that make them real. If The La’s had been given infinite time and money to record the “perfect” version of their album, would it have resonated the same way? Probably not.

And yet, here we are. Over 30 years later, "There She Goes" is still played, still covered, still studied as one of the greatest pop songs ever written. All while its creator insists it was never good enough.

Letting go

Mavers never got to hear his “perfect” album. Maybe that’s tragic, or maybe it’s a reminder that chasing perfection is a losing game. There’s a fine line between striving for greatness and refusing to let something live.

So, the next time you hesitate to launch, publish, or share something because it’s “not quite there,” remember: nothing ever is. And that’s exactly why it’s worth putting out into the world.

Because perfection isn’t what connects us. Imperfection is.

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Credits: - Cover image: Getty Images

- Source: BBC