Early in my high school years I finally ventured beyond Top 40 radio, thanks to a Rolling Stone subscription and some friends whose cassette collections were bigger than mine. Turned on to the more substantive, more “adult” music of The Cure, The Smiths, Sinead O’Connor, and Depeche Mode, the teenage me embraced the sullenness and strange wonderfulness of modern rock.

Thus I began frequenting the far-left of the FM radio dial here in Chicago, stopping at 93.1 WXRT (without straying too far from the ever-present pop of Z95 and B96). On ‘XRT, not only did I hear many of the artists and songs I’d read about, I ultimately discovered “The Big Beat,” a weekly show hosted by Johnny Mars. Every Thursday night, Mars took to the airwaves for two solid hours of indies and imports, presenting some of the most interesting, most original music that would have otherwise gone unplayed. (Because I was rarely awake for the full show, I’d often set my dad’s reel-to-reel recorder, more than capable of capturing the duration, and listen later.)

It’s because of Johnny Mars and “The Big Beat” that I became simpatico with The Stone Roses, hooked by the danceable psychedelica of “Fools Gold” (built upon a loop from James Brown’s “Funky Drummer,” and featuring distant, almost detached vocals from lead singer Ian Brown). The song wasn’t on the Manchester band’s eponymous UK debut, released in March 1989. That November, The Stone Roses issued a non-album single (“What The World Is Waiting For”), slating “Fools Gold” as the B-side. DJs preferred the flip, creating an unintentional hit; the single reached #8 in the UK and remained in the Top 75 for 14 weeks.

Miles away from Manchester, I was listening to WXRT’s “The Big Beat” at home near the shores of Lake Michigan. Mars spun the 12″ version of “Fools Gold” on his show, leaving me mesmerized by the strange, cool sounds coming out of the speaker that night:

This English mix of rock, funk, and rave music became known as Madchester, a term coined by the Happy Mondays, another area band. Also known as “Baggy,” the sound took off, with The Stone Roses as central players. Listening to “The Big Beat” and hearing even more Roses (“I Wanna Be Adored,” for one) and other like-minded music, I never felt so clued-in, so hip to something new. I picked up The Stone Roses as soon as I could (on cassette through Columbia House mail-order).

The Stone Roses were finally getting noticed here in America, but all was not well back in Britain. Signed to the indie Silvertone Records, the band wanted to cash in on their success by moving to a major label. That led to a protracted legal battle with Silvertone, which prevented The Stone Roses from releasing any new music until the expiration of their original five-year contract (watching them sinking, indeed). So that first album was all we had, as good as it was.

Fast forward to 1994, and I’m in college, a DJ on the student-run radio station. Playing Johnny Mars to a much smaller audience, I couldn’t quite believe it when the music director came into the studio holding Second Coming, The Stone Roses’ long-delayed follow-up. I added at least three tracks to my weekly playlist, including the first single, “Love Spreads”:

Now five years is a long time to be away. Folks move on, discover new favorites, find new fascinations. Though “Love Spreads” reached #2 in the UK, Second Coming was viewed as something of a disappointment. The guitars were louder this time around, for sure, and the production heavier, but critics and fans seemed to be expecting another revolution, not the evolution that the sophomore album represented to these ears.

Just a few years earlier, The Stone Roses had set the stage only to be forced to sit on the sidelines while other bands capitalized on what they’d begun. So in ’94, the spotlight should have been rightly theirs. But the British press basically dismissed Second Coming, having found a new musical messiah to praise; Oasis, another Manchester band, had debuted with Definitely Maybe. (Both discs were recorded at the same time, in studios near each other. Oasis’ Noah Gallagher had even borrowed a guitar from the Roses’ John Squire during those sessions.)

The Stone Roses ultimately became their own worst enemy. Suffering band member departures, bad press, and giving less-than-mediocre live performances (when they weren’t cancelling concert plans), the band called it quits in 1996. Though Brown and Squire have launched somewhat successful UK solo careers, they’ve gone mostly unnoticed here in the States.

Band trials and tribulations aside, good tunes always stand the test of time. Early this month, The Stone Roses’ debut was remastered on the occasion of its 20th anniversary and issued in three formats: a single CD, a 2CD/1 DVD Deluxe Edition, and a massive Collector’s Edition box set (3 CDs, 3 LPs, DVD, a 48-page book, reproductions of Squire’s art prints, even a lemon-shaped USB). Guess which one I opted for?

The band’s music is scheduled to be featured in the film adaptation of Irvine Welch’s novel, Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance, coming soon. Maybe a new generation of fans will inspire the Roses to put aside any thorny issues, and treat us to a Madchester reunion.

As for “The Big Beat,” it’s still on ‘XRT (now on Mondays, and hosted by Marty Lennartz). But you don’t need to be near Chicago to hear the show’s current collection of strange, cool sounds. Thanks to the power of the Interwebs, you can listen online wherever you may be—even Manchester!

Purchase The Stone Roses – The Stone Roses (20th Anniversary Edition) via iTunes, Amazon.