Saturday 17 September 2016


Mick Tucker (1947-2002)
What I know about drumming and tuppence probably wouldn't get your hair cut. But I'd like to think I know the difference between a good drummer and, shall we say, a not so good drummer. And, as a breed, they probably have the same set of chromosomes as goalkeepers: slightly unhinged but someone at the back you can depend on.

The Sweet could never have plied their trade in Glam's top flight if Mick Tucker (the man at the back) hadn't made the drum stool his own. Tight as a duck's bottom and never frightened to set-up the entire contents of the nearest percussion factory on stage and take up residence.
Added to which, Tucker was so good at the windmill trick with his sticks, you'd swear there was a motor hidden between his middle and forefinger.

Here's a bit of archive footage I found for the first time the other day on Youtube from a German TV show in late 1974. Brian Connolly has obviously gone to the bar, leaving our aforementioned drummer about to take to the stage with guitarist Andy Scott and bass player Steve Priest - both looking considerably more svelte than they do today.

Even if you don't fancy watching the whole thing (spoiler alert - contains drum solo), please just watch the opening frames while Tucker performs his windmill straight to camera before throwing his sticks in to the crowd. As a period piece this really is vintage Glam. And they're playing totally live.

So, sit back and enjoy the three-piece Sweet as they chuck the kitchen sink at Elmer Bernstein's 'The Man With the Golden Arm' - taken from their long player Desolation Boulevard released earlier that year.

Postscript - it transpires that women can even take their clothes off to this piece of music. Who knew?


  1. Dear old Mick and dear old Brian. What times we had.

  2. Excellent footage, John. The Sweet, and strippers. Glam and glum. Strangest thing I heard about a drummer was when Mick Jagger said, in a TV interview, that Charlie might not look as though he's doing much, but on stage it's like fireworks going off.

  3. In the days before the interwebs made viewing anytime possible, watching Sweet clips was like watching a Hitchcock film - just as the film buff would watch waiting for Hitch's cameo, the music fan would wait watching till Mick twirled his sticks. And he always did just enough to leave you wanting more, without overdoing it to the point of ho-hum.