It was the arse end of 1976. Disco was big. Arguably, funk was even bigger. The Sweet - best known then (and now, not a lot changes) for earlier glam anthems like Block Buster!, Ballroom Blitz and Hellraiser - were in the wilderness and looking for a new direction. Aren't we all.
Inevitably, the new direction was no more than a wrong turn down a dead end street. They soon did a u-ey, came back and stuck to what they were good at. But not before they recorded something of a cult classic. Shortly after its release it was being played in hip New York clubs. Not rock clubs; clubs with red velvet ropes, mirror balls and everything.
Amsterdam. Everyone's got an Amsterdam story; I'm no exception. However, this is, in all honesty, probably neither the time or the place to share it. Suffice it to say I lost two days of my life the last time I was in the Dutch capital. It was Scary Mary! In my defence, I was just a boy. Giving it all away.
But that was then. This is, well, now. And I'm currently booking a return visit. 'Is that sensible?' I hear you cry. "Can you be trusted?" Good questions both. To which I'd come back at you with "Of course it is" and "Hell, yeah." Well I would say that, wouldn't I? Let's hope my travelling companion thinks so too. More details to follow, I'm sure.
David Bowie - Amsterdam (1973 B-Side)
* Same as the old flag? Not quite - this is what it looked like pre-1975
I love unsung heroes. Especially in the music biz. Those foot soldiers who are quite prepared to sit in the wings while others, more worthy or (often) not, receive the plaudits. One such hero is Phil Wainman.
Without Phil Wainman there would be no Sweet. He's like a poor man's George Martin: he believed in the band from the time they played at his wedding in 1969 - back when they were a struggling little bubblegum band traipsing up and down the country in a beat up Commer van.
He took them under his wing, introduced them to (the go-to songwriters of the seventies) Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman, secured them a recording contract deal with RCA and ended up producing *all* of their Top Ten singles.
In the film below he talks about his charges very touchingly ('the boys') in a wide ranging interview that spans all aspects of his illustrious career - Wainman was also at the helm of all the Bay City Rollers' anthems, twiddled the knobs on Next by Alex Harvey and even produced Generation X's debut album.
But his tour-de-force has got to be The Ballroom Blitz (fast forward to 37:48). Not surprisingly, as a drummer, for him it was all about the tub-thumping pagan skins. It was a song built around Mick Tucker's relentless syncopation; I know that, and you know that.
However, the way Andy Scott (the Sweet's axe man) tells it, it's all about the guitar. Drums, what drums? The rest of the band appear to have been airbrushed out of the story altogether. Guitarists, eh?
Name checks abound - Sandy Nelson, Chuck Berry, The Beatles - but, interestingly, neither he nor Wainman reveal the true identity of the inspiration behind their 1973 monster smash (#2 in this country, #5 in the US where it was released a couple of years later).
So where did Ballroom Blitz really come from? Take a listen to this. A Saturday night record, if ever I heard one.
My love of the green and white RCA single paper sleeve is well documented in this blog. That I would love to wallpaper the house (or certain rooms, anyway) in the RCA livery is no secret.
You can even buy replicas of them these days (above); though I must have enough original Sweet and Bowie 45s alone to do at least a couple of walls.
My friend Tony did some lovely miniature canvases of classic RCA sleeves for me recently. But, as you can see, I had to have a go myself.
Depending on your age, and your musical compass, the RCA Victor label will either mean Elvis, Perry Como and Clodagh Rogers, or, most likely, The Sweet, Bowie and Lou Reed.
Regular readers know that my love affair with their classic green and white paper sleeve goes back to a time when men wore hats, women wore hairnets and children played in the street dodging Ford Cortinas and white dog poo.
And then through the seventies RCA did the whole rebrand thing and before you could say Eight Track Cartridge we were surrounded by rainbows and flowers. But, alas, labels and sleeves have gone the same way as 4 Star petrol and phone boxes. However, these miniature canvasses, painted by my friend Tony and now hanging in my music room, will serve as a memory to a time when the pound in your pocket could buy you two singles (sometimes three) and Steve Priest could still get into a pair of 30 inch waist trousers.
Not for the first time a rock and roll band have jumped aboard the real ale bandwagon and put their name on a pump clip or a shiny bottle label. Last month the Quo launched Piledriver - a 4.3 % ABV no nonsense amber ale named after their no nonsense 1972 album of the same name. It follows on the heels of Iron Maiden's Trooper and Elbow's Build a Rocket Boys; fine beers both.
Little Willy (# 4 June 1972) RCA 2225
Wig Wam Bam (# 4 September 1972) RCA 2260
Hell Raiser (# 2 May 1973) RCA 2357
Fox On The Run (# 2 March 1975) RCA 2524
But spare a thought for The Sweet, a band who are no strangers to this blog. Seemingly, and without their knowledge, their back catalogue is being plundered in the name of beer. And if you don't believe me, check out, in order of release (that's the single, not the beer) Little Willy, Wig Wam Bam, Hell Raiser and Fox On The Run.
They've just had Wig Wam Bam on in my local. I don't know anything about the other three, though two of them at least look like US imports. It can only be a matter of time until Block Buster! and The Ballroom Blitz make their way in to a hostelry near you. Speaking of Ballroom Blitz...
Remember Land of the Giants, that mysterious planet where everything was 12 times larger than its counterpart on earth? Morgan Howell's paintings may not be quite that big but his jaw-dropping 3-D reproductions of classic singles, c/w their often creased and torn paper sleeves, measure 27" x 27" - thus living up to their tag of SuperSizeArt. His work is much in demand and is frequently commissioned by the great and good who all want one of Howell's incredible creations hanging on their wall.
I managed to tear Morgan away from his paintbrushes long enough for a mild interrogation:
What was the first single you bought?
I wish I could say it was Bowie, or Lou Reed. But it was Alvin Stardust and Tell Me Why from 1974. I used to draw him with his sideburns,
black outfit and gloved hand holding the mic at a seemingly impossible angle.
What makes you want to paint a particular record – is it the record itself, the writing on the label or the sleeve?
I have a list that I’m working through, though occasionally I do get interrupted by a commission, or a request for a show piece. This has
happened recently with Agnetha from Abba and The Eagles.
Looking at some of the stuff you've painted, it's the 'distressed' sleeves with rips and tears that really capture a record; they're the ones that were taken to parties and had beer spilt on them. Did you look after your vinyl as a kid?
Big audio
I wouldn’t have given much thought with the 45s, as long as they played. I was more careful with albums and eventually got record
boxes so I could take stuff to parties. Now of course I love the wear and tear. The objects themselves have gotten old and worn like us and more interesting for it.
Ever been tempted to work through a label's entire back catalogue (turkeys and all) – say Stiff Records for instance? (starting with
BUY-1 The Damned's New Rose).
No, though many people have asked if I’d paint New Rose. So you’re a
Damned fan eh?
I see you do boys annuals now. Where else do you see Supersize going? Classic paperbacks? Postage stamps? Dollar bills?
I might paint a giant Curly Wurly. (Personally, I'd love to see Morgan have a stab at some of these) How long do they take to paint? Longer than it takes the band to write and record the record you're recreating?
They usually take a couple of weeks depending on the complexity. The Beatles 'Apple' 45s took longer as I had to paint the cracked
black lacquered sleeves and it took a while to get that right. Dancing Queen needed to be ready for Agnetha in under a week.
I've always liked the RCA bags, have you got a favourite design? I love the orange and green one.
My current favourite is 'You Never Can Tell' on Pye International. A fabulously evocative design with the stamped R&B motif in the
right hand corner of the bag. And one of Chuck Berry’s finest to boot.
Beatles or Stones?Beatles
Stereo or mono?Stereo
Jukebox or iPod?
Juke
Fade out or proper ending?Proper ending. The ballad of John and Yoko and Teenage Kicks being two great examples.
And, finally, which one of your paintings are you most proud of?
Probably most proud of Hey Jude/Revolution on Apple as I gave them to Cancer
Research and they were auctioned at Abbey Road by Al Murray and made a fortune. I was stunned and a career was born.
Morgan's website: www.supersizeart.com
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.
It was the arse end of 1976. Disco was big. Arguably, funk was even bigger. The Sweet - best known then (and now, not a lot changes) for earlier glam anthems like Block Buster!, Ballroom Blitz and Hellraiser - were in the wilderness and looking for a new direction. Aren't we all.
