I've told The Swede before, on numerous occasions, if he doesn't nail his ideas down, I'll nick 'em; I'm dodgy; I'm a geezer. And so on Monday he flagged up what would have been Brian Connolly's 80th birthday and at the same timetelling everyone how fab Healer by the Sweet was. I also recall Ernie saying in the comments section that someone in TS's catchment area has probably got at least 40 versions of this mid-70s solid slab of Sweetness. Not sure about that, but I have got a rather tasty nine minute version which I hope the TS digs as much as I do. I shan't map out my Sweet credentials here, though feel free to take a gleg at both the band and BC on my sidebar.
I've just re-read Block Buster! by Dave Thompson. As the title would indicate, it's the definitive biography of glam rockers the Sweet; nothing to do with the chain of video shops. Their rise to teenybopper stardom - and Top of the Pops ubiquity - followed later by (begrudging, often) critical acclaim was far from overnight; yet their demise was comparable with the speed with which Laurel and Hardy's piano came hurtling down those steps in the film 'Music Box'. Though, as you can imagine, not half as funny. And the reason why they fell from grace with such indecent haste? Two words: Brian Connolly. Sorry, make that three words: Brian Connolly's drinking. In 1974 after releasing Sweet Fanny Adams and being invited by Pete Townshend to support the Who at Charlton Athletic football ground and play in front of 60,000 fans, Connolly went on a bender. A proper bender. Not for the first time he then got into a fight and was badly beaten up, suffering critical bruising to his throat (they really did kick his head in). As a result the tour to support the album (the album that should have been flying off the shelves) was pulled, as was their chance to play in front of the biggest crowd of their career supporting their heroes. The rest of the band weren't happy; to say the least. They seriously considered playing Charlton as a three piece; they even considered getting a replacement for Connolly. But they gave their friend another chance.
Fast forward a couple of years and, after an 18 month lay off from touring, the band sought solace at the Château recording studio on the outskirts of Paris. Armed with a shedload of new songs they recorded their most coherent album to date: In early 1978 Level Headed was promoted massively in the States where they were embarking on a massive tour with hopes of finally 'cracking America'. With the album's lead single Love is Like Oxygen picking up airplay it was all set fair. However, Connolly's love of the bottle scuppered the band yet again. By now bloated and out of shape (physically and vocally) he was turning up pissed at most of the shows and the tour soon descended into farce. The record company pulled the plug on the remaining dates and the band were flown home in disgrace. Connolly was kicked out of the band the following year. And with him went any last vestiges of future aspirations the band may have had. The remaining trio of Andy Scott, Steve Priest and Mick Tucker limped on with three wheels on their wagon till the Cherokees finally caught up with them in 1981. Game over.
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When Andy Scott wrote Love is Like Oxygen it was no secret that he was a huge fan of Hall & Oates. Steve Priest alleges that Scott ripped off their 1975 track Grounds for Separation when writing his lyrics three years later. Scott will no doubt tell you different. The bridge Andy Scott may or may not have liberated comes in at 1:20. I'll let you decide.
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.
Over on S6 Radio tonight, Piley and Mondo will be bringing you another Sesame slice of peerless platters brought to you by the letter B. From what I can gather, Baby You're A Rich Man (originally) by The Beatles is getting an airing.
The original didn't get much of a look in back in the day; that's because it was a B-side. The A-side being All You Need Is Love (you may have heard of it).
So, let's hear it for B-sides. The tunes that don't get on the radio. The songs that bands often think aren't strong enough to stand on their own two feet and, by inference, don't make the cut when the album comes out; though Oasis did buck the trend in the mid 90s. How else could Queen's Roger 'I'm just the drummer' Taylor have amassed such a personal fortune if he hadn't persuaded the suits at EMI to put his, rather lame, I'm In Love With My Car on the B-side of multi-million selling BoRhap?
However, one of my favourite bands took B-sides very seriously. The Sweet's only shop window to show the world that they were serious musos and not just a bubblegum boy band (there's three more Bs!), was the B-side - it's where they put all their 'heavy stuff.' The darker side, if you will, to the manufactured Chinnichap choons (Need A Lot Of Lovin', Burning, Someone Else Will to name but three). So here's one of my all time favourites. And besides, any excuse to shoehorn The Sweet into my blog can only be a good thing. Can't it?
Here we go then, Burn (1) On The Flame by The Sweet fronted by Brian (2) Connolly, the B-side (3) of The Six Teens.
