I wanna tell you a story

I love songs that tell stories; granted they tend to be very linear, but I don't have a problem with that. A story told in three minutes, with a couple of verses and a chorus, is brevity writ large. Ron Sexsmith is a master of the art form. Michael and his Dad from Long Player Late Bloomer is the tale of a father and his son coming to terms with the death of their wife & mother whilst at the same time not having a pot to piss in. I often say this about truly great songwriters (and Sexsmith truly is), but if I could write a song half as good as - fill in the gaps - I would die a happy man.

Ron Sexsmith - Michael and his Dad (2011)

Another beautiful story is recanted here by Neil Sedaka on his early 70s Emergence album. A young boy yearns to fly (don't all young boys yearn to fly?) and then many years later, when tucking in his own kids at bedtime, remembers that feeling. Sedaka released it as a single but, alas, it was a flop. There's probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

Neil Sedaka - Superbird (1971)

Still with us

Every picture tells a story and all that. I love this photograph. It's got everything: Hollywood actor Jack Cassidy with glamorous second wife, and star in her own right, Shirley Jones, and his pop sensation son, David, at a glitzy awards ceremony. Taken back in 1971 when the world was a very different place. Sadly, only Jones is left - she was 90 earlier this year. Crikey.

...

Jack Cassidy (1927-1976)

David Cassidy (1950-2017)

Shirley Jones (1934-)

Smile

I was in Sheffield yesterday. It's only an hour's drive up the M1*, so after a pretty torrid week it was good to slip anchor and catch up with friends over a couple of beers and pull in Ian Prowse's gig at Greystones. The garage building (above) was just up from the road from our digs and, yes, I did smile back. It is contagious after all; just ask John Eric Bartholomew...

Morecambe and Wise (1971)

* I was due to catch the train but Mick and the lads were fighting the good fight.

Just the two of us

If David Bowie was still this side of the grass the chances are he would, at some point, have been persuaded to take his Hunky Dory album out on the road and play it live - back to back (and probably chuck in a greatest hits set at the end). Tho' for that to have even been a possibility would not just have meant bring one rock god back from the grave, but two: Mick Ronson not only defined the sound of Bowie's seminal 1971 album, but was also responsible for helping create the whole Ziggy zeitgeist during that crucial '71 -'73 period. The Man Who Sold the World couldn't have done it on his own; he needed reliable backup. And in Ronson he found not just his perfect foil but someone to keep him grounded. The fact they both packed their bags and buggered off to Mars the following year is neither here nor there...

Here they are, just the two of them - Bowie on vocals and piano, Ronson on guitar...

David Bowie - Eight Line Poem (BBC session 1971)

Mick Ronson (1946-1993); David Bowie (1947-2016)

If not for you

Another day another rock and roll casualty. Olivia Newton John may have been too saccharine for some but, to boys of a certain age growing up in the early 70s, Neutron Bomb was as much a pinup as say Suzi Quatro, Susan Dey or even that model in the Flake commercial; poster girls all. And the fact that she scored her first hit with a George Harrison arrangement of a Bob Dylan tune meant that she could no wrong. I love this song. And you can tell from this clip* she loved singing it. Rest easy, Olivia. 

* P.S. 11.8.22 - Apologies, since posting this, Youtube have taken down all the 1971 live footage of ONJ (incl. the one I originally put up) and the audio only versions. Bastards. So I've swapped it for a later versh. Soz.

Olivia Newton John - If Not For You

Olivia Newton John (1948-2022)

Shag, anyone?

I wonder if anyone's written a thesis on bubblegum? It wouldn't surprise me. Disposable pop music as an art form. Though maybe not that disposable - much of its canon from the 70s has endured to this day and is still, annoyingly, as catchy as ever nearly half a century later. 

Acclaimed music critic Lester Bangs may have been on to something when he described bubblegum as  'the basic sound of rock and roll, minus the rage, fear and violence.' Which is probably why I still get a kick out of hearing songs like this. (BTW - look at the classic chart countdown in the background while the record's playing.)

Shag - Loop-di-Love (1972)

But if Jonathan King is too much for you to stomach, here's the original version sung, a year earlier, by Juan Bastos. Imagine the Pied Piper being followed through the streets of Amsterdam not by rodents but instead by nubiles in calf length boots and hot pants. Well it was 1971.

Juan Bastos - Loop-di-Love (1971)

Boffins

Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs - often referred to as 'the boffins from Saint Etienne' - have, in their time, curated and presided over some of the finest conceptual compilation albums you're ever likely to come across; drawing heavily on material from the very foothills of the 1970s is their stock in trade, and none the worse for that.

English Weather, from 2017, is no exception: when all things psychedelic gradually gave way to the prog movement at the arse end of the 60s a new sound was evoked, creating a rich seam that Stanley and Wiggs have mined for much of this collection. Stretched over four sides of vinyl it's very Autumnal, and, yes, very English. And I particularly like the accompanying artwork. Go on, treat yourself. 

Alan Parker & Alan Hawkshaw - Evening Shade (1971)

Cold Turkey

I'd like to think that the opening words of my first blog of a new year set the tone for the remaining 360 odd days to come. But as last year ended on an all time low (for all sorts of reasons - some obvious, some not so), the bar is currently set pretty low. However, as this blog approaches its 10th anniversary I'm afraid I can't make any promises for 2020. To quote Doris Day, what will be, will be. A Happy New Year to you all.

.........

I spent much of the holidays re-watching Budgie - Keith Waterhouse's finest creation (surpassing even the brilliance of Billy Liar). I've name-checked Waterhouse and Budgie Bird in previous blogs so I'll concentrate, instead, on the theme music. 

Only two series were made by LWT - in 1971 & 1972. The first deployed a haunting instrumental, The Loner, credited to the Milton Hunter Orchestra. Budgie, played by Adam Faith, is seen chasing (always out of reach) pound notes - the programmes's overriding premise encapsulated in just 45 seconds.

For the second series we see the same footage, only this time to the backdrop of a beautiful song written by Ray Davies: Nobody's Fool is - to the untrained ear, the Kinks at the top of their game. Only it isn't. Well, it's Ray Davies singing, that much we do know, but according to the label on the accompanying Pye single, the artist is Cold Turkey. Go figure.

Cold Turkey - Nobody's Fool (1972)

From the bright busy streets off the Charing Cross Road

To the dark little alleys in old Soho

Taylor Made

Made in the Shade was one of the Rolling Stones' first attempts at putting out a Best Of; though in all honesty it was more of a So Far - the Stones in a holding pattern; condensing Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main St., Goats Head Soup and It's Only Rock 'n' Roll, it drew a line under the Mick Taylor era, giving the band time to woo his replacement, Ronnie Wood. Taylor, as I've said here numerous times, was way too good for Mick and Keith. And, anyway, leaving the band probably saved his life: he wasn't as tough as Keef, yet still tried to take as many illegal substances as his indestructible employer.

The origin of the album's artwork has always ben shrouded in mystery. However, the cover of the Laid in the Shade bootleg kinda gives the game away.

The Rolling Stones - Wild Horses (1971)

Hunky Dory

Of all the projects I've set up, and being associated with, in recent years, I think the one currently in the pipeline is the one I'm most excited about. Our new Sunday Vinyl Session we've got kicking off next month - listening to albums in full - is going to be a zinger. And we're starting with an absolute nailed on classic from 1971: David Bowie's Hunky Dory.

We're meeting at the Running Horse, one of the city's most celebrated music boozers. The format, such that it is, runs on rails - a bit of chit-chat at the beginning introducing the platter de jour and putting it in context, and then straight into Side 1. A comfort break, refills at the bar, a bit more chatter about the artist and then Side 2. Closely followed by more beer, and maybe a few associated singles/ B sides, and everyone chipping in with stories and or ideas for next time. And with it being a Sunday afternoon, it'll still be light by the time we're all wrapped up. What's not to like?

The fun begins on Sunday 14th. April. See you there...

With thanks to:

Rich - his idea, I'm just riding shotgun.

James and Janneke - for the beautiful artwork.

Simon - for help and support: he started all this malarkey in Glossop five years ago.

Matt - for the RTs - check out his club Off the Record in Birmingham.

And last, but not least, Rob. Landlord at The Runner. And fellow music nut.

It's Been a Long Time Since I Did The Stroll

It's been a long time

I have to confess that, despite the title of today's piece, I have never done The Stroll1. In fact, until as recently as ten minutes ago I wasn't even aware that it came with its own song. Yes, I'd heard Led Zeppelin's mighty Rock and Roll2 and yes I knew Nick Lowe slipped a reference to it in I Knew the Bride, but I still couldn't have told you, strictly or otherwise, which foot to lead with or, indeed, who takes the initiative. However, looking at this video, I don't think any of that really matters; all you do, seemingly, is, er, stroll. Who knew?

The Stroll - from American Bandstand, February 1958

1. Not knowingly, anyway.
2. I recently played my stripped down version of Rock and Roll at the Running Horse in Nottingham. I introduced it by saying that if there were any Led Zep fans in the room, then now might be a good time to go to the bar.

Led Zeppelin - Rock and Roll (1971)

My Brother Jake

When James rang the other day and said he'd really like us to do another round of recording, it was, quite literally, music to my ears. We've done a few sessions together over the years and he really has helped shape a lot of my songs. I may have provided the playground, but James was the one who put the swings and roundabouts in.

That's not my quote by the way - when Nigel Clark walked out on Dodgy 20 years ago I remember Matt their drummer saying it might be Clark's name on the records, but they all know how the songs really got written and recorded. Ouch.

That said, I know this time around we'll be doing a couple of covers. James and I both love the Eiderdowns' version of From the Beginning by ELP. Bernard, who played fiddle on Pickering Place would certainly be my Number One choice for this along with Nat: Nathaniel plays sax with local shit kickers Slumb Party, but it's his banjo I want to hear on this:

The Eiderdowns - From the Beginning

And another one I'd like to have a crack at is My Brother Jake. Free had a huge hit with it in 1971, but, again, I want to do it more like the Eiderdowns; so chilled we may all end up getting hypothermia. Let me make a few phone calls and see if we can't fix this up for early in the New Year.

The Eiderdowns - My Brother Jake [mp3]

If you should pass by, be sure to drop right in

The first, and the best

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, about this piece of film I don't like. Every moment of its five minutes and 20 seconds warms my heart. Laundromat is taken from Rory Gallagher's eponymous  solo album released in May 1971. And this performance from Beat Club (a sort of German Whistle Test) was recorded shortly thereafter. As with most overseas performances by UK bands in the seventies, we never saw them; it's only recently, all these years later, that we've discovered what our idols were getting up to in Europe and America thanks to YouTube and the like.

Rather than frame a 250 words review of it, here are the headlines:

* Curly guitar leads, *so* 1971

* Rory wears double denim, and gets away with it

* His drummer wears his girlfriend's top, and he too, sort of, gets away with it. Just

* Rory's guitar looks like it's just been pulled from a burning building

* Tarot card backdrop

* Stack of orange amplifiers (though not Orange, but Stramp)

* He never looked better than he did in 1971; he would soon *fill out*

* Laundromat sits at the top table of the Side One, Track One Club

Rory Gallagher would have been 70 last Friday. He never even saw his 50th.

I'd like to dedicate this to Frank Johnson. It was he who pointed me in the direction of this album all those years ago. Cheers Frank!

J is for Herbie

For the sake of today's post title, I was really hoping Hancock clocked in at 30 mins

Another day, another Swedey McSwedeface. It was only a matter of time till the Number One Son wanted in on the action. As he says himself, below, if this was 'My First CD', it would have thrown up something very different.

Dad,

As I recall, this is meant to be the "first LP bought with your own money", and this is that. 

This is 5 years or so into my record buying/acquiring life, but all of those were CDs, and the majority were birthday presents or pocket money purchases. A mix of peer influence and your advice had worked me through the likes of Blink-182, NOFX, Sabbath, and Zeppelin up to then, all on small shiny discs. 

By the time I was 16 I was studying Monday to Friday in the city, and working there at weekends too. As a borderline pretentious literature-reading, arthouse-viewing teen, I bought a turntable and made the most of the jazz exposure I'd received through both you and my piano mentor, Steve, and fully embraced the world of fusion with this epic. Bass clarinet, Fender Rhodes, and a funny time signature or two set me on the road to the kind of musical madness I take for granted to this day. 

James
www.jamesmedd.co.uk

Herbie Hancock - Mwandishi (1971)

You're a swine Lennon

In 1971 there was no love lost between John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Their solo albums from the time were loaded with venomous intertribal references; both eager to piss on the other's chips. Lennon, however, had to have the last word. Early copies of his Imagine album came with a limited edition postcard of him fondling a pig's ears. A direct jibe at Macca's Ram album cover. I told you it was serious.

'You're a swine.'

Octobowie

I've just listened to the latest Word podcast and was enthralled by Paul Morley talking so eloquently about David Bowie: Morley's biography of The Dame, 'The Age Of Bowie', has just been published and it's Morley's very personal take on probably one of the most influential players in the history of popular music.

The Bowie section on my bookshelves is very minimalist. I bought George Tremlett's sketchy paperback, 'The David Bowie Story', whilst still at school and not long out of short trousers. Tremelett's tome was quite literally a snapshot in time, ending as it does with Ziggy's retirement bash at Hammersmith Odeon in '73.

Sitting alongside Tremlett is 'Any Day Now - The London Years: 1947-1974'. And it is just that. Kevin Cann has put together an exhaustive encyclopedia of Bowie documenting what he was doing - and who he was doing it with - every single day between being born in January1947 and the day he left Britain in March 1974.

Whilst Bowie's influences are as far reaching today as they ever were and his stock, since his demise earlier this year, has never been so high, it's the years 1971-1973 when, for me, Bowie was most exciting. Seeing him on Top of the Pops playing Starman with his blue acoustic guitar, hearing Hunky Dory for the first time and getting giddy when Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars took rock and roll into a new theatrical dimension, is a unique sequence of events I feel privileged to have witnessed first hand.

Picking out random October days from these special years you can see the speed at which he was gaining traction. Space Oddity would not become a novelty hit ball and chain he would forever drag around and he was still a million miles away from Berlin. So, with the Beatles now safely in their grave, the stage was set for Bowie's grand entrance.

1971

The Man Who Sold The World is finally released and his song Oh You Pretty Thing is released by Peter Noone. His son Zowie (Duncan Jones) is born and he meets Andy Warhol for the first time in New York. He also plays Glastonbury Fayre - just as the sun is coming up.

Tuesday 19 October. Preview copies of the new album, Hunky Dory, are pressed with a final track listing and mix.

1972

Hunky Dory charts in the US and Ziggy is unveiled for the first time. He gifts All the Young Dudes to Mott The Hoople and produces Lou Reed's Transformer.

Friday 6 October. The Jean Genie (or 'Dream Genie' as its called on the tape box) is recorded in RCA's Studio D.

1973

A year bookended by Aladdin Sane and Pin Ups with Drive in Saturday and the death of Ziggy somewhere in the middle. By now he's huge - both over here and, all importantly, over there. Over there being America and Japan and most of the English speaking world.


Thursday 18 October. Filming of the The 1980 Floor Show, a Bowie live extravaganza, begins at London's Marquee Club - to be broadcast the following month in the US on NBC's Midnight Special.

You've got a friend

Tapestry (with cat)

Tapestry (without cat)

Reading David Hepworth's riveting 1971 on the train to the Harrogate Literary Festival yeterday (to see David Hepworth and Mark Ellen speaking together), I was struck in an early chapter by just how pivotal Carole King's Tapestry album was to the history of rock music. Prior to 1971 precious few albums recorded by women had ever gone to the # 1 slot on Billboard - Janis Joplin and Bobbie Gentry being the notable exceptions, muscling their way in to what was a very testosterone fuelled environment. At its peak Tapestry was selling an eye watering 150,000 copies a week: every week for pretty much most of that year (it's now sold north of 25 million). And it soon became the bedrock of many a playlist on America's fledgling FM radio stations, where it hit the sweet spot - for men and women alike. It really did, and still does, sound like she was singing her intimate songs to you and to you alone. Especially 'You've Got a Friend'.

Often covered but never bettered - even when she gave the song to her good friend James Taylor who recorded it within days of King and with many of the same musicians.

1971

1971: that was the year that was

Next month the esteemed writer and broadcaster David Hepworth publishes his new book 1971. According to David, ’71 was rock music's golden year. And as comprehensive and as well researched as I know the tome will be, I’m guessing there are a few things about 1971 you won't find between its covers.

1971 It was the first year I’d been on a package holiday: the Medds went loco in sunny Spain
1971 I was preparing to sit my 11-plus and say goodbye to St. Mary’s
1971 My dad took delivery of a brand new Hillman Minx: RTL 707 J
1971 I took out a subscription to Charles Buchan’s Football Monthly
1971 I heard Co-Co drifting from a barbers window and so began my love affair with The Sweet
1971 My mother said I was too young for Clackers, Oxford Bags and a feather-cut
1971 I think I fancied Clodagh Rodgers
1971 I was ten years old when my friend Adele was born in 1971

Adele: she really is a sweetie

Taxing times

   When George Harrison quoted the Taxman: 'there's one for you, nineteen for me' he kiddeth not. In 1966 the top rate of income tax was 83% on earned income and an eye watering 98% on unearned income.
   Five years later and Mick Jagger and Keith Richards could stand it no more: in 1971, and facing a massive bill from what we now know as HMRC, they buggered off to France and became rock and roll's first tax exiles. But not before playing a short UK tour; comprising mostly small halls and colleges it was their first proper tour in years. Jagger had yet to become a parody of himself and in Mick Taylor they'd got the best guitarist the band had ever hired.
   The penultimate date of the tour, March 13, was Leeds University. It was recorded by the BBC for posterity. And the band had never sounded better.
   Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones.

To Remind Me

I know I can be outspoken when I've got the bit between my teeth; but even I am invariably on the losing end of any argument that sees me trying to defend Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep as a credible pop single, a worthy Number One and, not, in any way, the template for Agadoo.

Sally Carr's clarion call, all the better for its discernible Lanarkshire lilt, enthralled me then and enthralls me still. Her yellow crochet hot pants may or may not have played a part also.

And although Middle of the Road were seen by many as a one trick pony, you'd be hard pushed to find any current recording artist out there who has shifted a combined 7 million copies of their first three singles.

I rediscovered this well woven little number yesterday while trying in vain to introduce some semblance of order into a record collection which, let me assure you, has never been described as middle of the road.

Middle of the Road - To Remind Me