Legay - No-one/ The Fantastic Story of the Steam Driven Banana

Label: Fontana

Year of Release: 1968

Of all the psychedelic obscurities to enjoy an unofficial seven-inch reissue, Legay's "No-one" is perhaps one of the least expected but most deserved. Unlike a lot of "psych monsters", "No-one" was surprisingly overlooked by the big-hitter compilation series of the eighties and nineties, rejected (or perhaps undiscovered) by "Rubble", ignored by "A Perfumed Garden", snubbed by "Chocolate Soup"… and as for an appearance on the "Nuggets II" box set, forget it, obviously.

This is an absurd state of affairs, because while most of those compilations tended to dub any pop song with flowery lyrics and a tiny bit of phasing on the drums during the bridge as "psychedelic", "No-one" is full-on sitar chaos. Thrashing exotically away, it's like a bubblegum "Tomorrow Never Knows" or, perhaps, like an American garage band filled with Eastern Promise. Filled with excellent driving beats, it makes an immediate and positive impression.

Of equal interest is the B-side "The Fantastic Story of the Steam Driven Banana", which surely wins the much-coveted prize for "The Most Popsike Song Title In The World Ever". Poppy, breezy and riddled with chiming keyboard hooks, it rivals The Blossom Toes for both absurdity and beautifully insistent melody. As for why a steam driven banana would be owned by a farmer, I'm not the person to ask.

Legay were apparently a very big deal in their native Leicester where their live set partly consisted of convincing and hard-hitting soul and Motown covers, meaning that this single only scratches the surface of their abilities. Consisting of John Knapp on guitar, keyboards and vocals, Dave McCarthy on Bass, Robin Pizer on guitar and vocals (and clearly songwriting duties), Rod Read on guitar and vocals and the oddly named Moth Smith on drums, they later evolved into the seventies outfit Gypsy.

Circle Records are planning a seven inch EP of previously unreleased Legay tracks for the beginning of June.

(Someone has correctly pointed out to me that "Steam Driven Banana" is commercially available on various websites, so I've deleted it from the box below. However, the curious can still hear it over on YouTube). 

The "You Know Who" Group - Roses Are Red My Love/ Playboy

Label: London

Year of Release: 1965

Groups or performers refusing all interviews and veiling their true identities is, by modern day standards, unusual behaviour but not especially original. The reasons behind it have varied enormously, but tend to be for either artistic or practical reasons. The Art of Noise spent their early career hiding behind masks to encourage a greater focus on their music, whereas TISM masked themselves up purely because the edgy, satirical Australian pop group had a few schoolteachers in their ranks who might have lost their day jobs had their identities been revealed.

Back in the sixties, the motives tended to be a lot more cynical. The Guess Who shot to success in Canada in the USA by presenting themselves as a British band hiding under a new identity. The Moles and The Score tried to create some kind of enigma around themselves in the expectation that someone would think they were Beatles, Stones or Kinks in exile, but failed to hit home. Then there was the less catchily named "You Know Who" Group…

"Roses Are Red My Love" was released in the USA a full two months before The Guess Who's gambit, and is a piece of remarkable craftiness. Imitating the British beat sound and even getting the lead singer to vocalise with an English accent (with inevitable Dick Van Dyke styled consequences) it desperately wants to dupe the public into thinking this is a famous band moonlighting for reasons known only to themselves. And one can only speculate - what could those reasons have possibly been? Spare cash on the side behind the record company's back? Running away from their manager who had gangland connections? Shits and giggles? Clearly people were a lot more credulous about cynical marketing ploys in 1965 than they are these days. 

Unbelievably though, one rumour suggests that the members of The "You Know Who" Group were far closer to The Beatles than one might suppose. Merseybeat group The Undertakers (featuring future Apple signing Jackie Lomax) are alleged to be behind the backing tracks here, and all were mates with The Beatles on the live circuit. The group decamped to the USA at the end of 1964 following the termination of their contract with Pye, hard-up and desperate for work, and found some luck through the producer Bob Gallo who also happened to be responsible for this record. However, there is absolutely no concrete evidence to suggest that this is them, and they've never gone on record to confirm it - and those vocals sure as hell don't sound like Lomax. But whoever else was responsible, they've been very shy about coming forward, remaining as masked as they ever were. 

"Roses Are Red My Love" was enough of a minor hit in the USA to ensure that it still crops up on one hit wonder compilations, putting it outside the remit of this blog. It's available on YouTube, though, and you can hear for yourself that it's a cute period piece, all rasping harmonicas and teenage angst. The flip  "Playboy" (below) is a bit more raw and minimal.  

I'm hedging my bets wildly here and almost asking for trouble, but if you had any associations with this group and would like to take this opportunity to come forward, please do so. I have absolutely no idea what evidence you would need to provide to convince me that you're being genuine, but this is worth a try. 

The Pickwicks - Little By Little/ I Took My Baby Home

Label: Warner Bros

Year of Release: 1965

Consisting of Alan Gee on guitar, Malcolm Jenkins on drums, Tony Martin on bass and Johnny Miles on lead guitar and vocals, Coventry's The Pickwicks were one of many sixties beat groups who utilised costumes on stage to strike an eccentric presence. Donning top hats, period costumes and pulling pompous faces, their inventive use of clobber got them noticed, but ultimately didn't score them a hit. Two Decca singles, "Apple Blossom Time" and "You're Old Enough To Be In Love" didn't chart, and this, their final hurrah on Warner Brothers, was equally luckless.

The A-side "Little by Little" is an incredibly minimal, almost garagey effort which isn't so spiky as to be uncommercial, but certainly isn't populist enough to break through. Nonetheless, its insistent keyboard riff and simmering attitude is enticing.

Of far more interest to most readers, I suspect, will be the flip, the Ray Davies composition "I Took My Baby Home". Clattering and crashing into the tune with aplomb, it's a lovely and uplifting two minutes. 

Rumours abounded for many years that Jimmy Page played on both sides of this single, but there's now some dispute over whether that was actually the case. Whatever, it's an innocent and joyous slice of vinyl, and isn't really talked about as much as it deserves to be. 

Reupload - Patrick D Martin - I Like Lectric Motors/ Time

Label: Deram
Year of Release: 1979

I've blogged at some length before about how much revisionism has occurred on the topic of eighties (or in this case, cusp seventies/ eighties) electronic music. This isn't necessarily surprising in itself - history is generally written by the winners, and why would the Great Book of Rock and Pop waste its time devoting entry space to Karel Fialka, The Techno Twins, Tik and Tok and other such robo-jerking comrades when the battle was conclusively won by people who attempted to give machines a soul, who realised that focussing all their artistic and lyrical efforts on the novelty of modern electronic devices would eventually be regarded as nothing more than a novelty itself?

Indisputable though this may be, "Left and to the Back" has never been about analysing victories in pop, and "I Like Lectric Motors" by Patrick D Martin is yet another electronic obscurity which, instead of utilising electronics gracefully a la Soft Cell, New Order and The Human League, judders all over the show like a giant angry mutant wasp zig-zagging its way towards the party food. Focussing its lyrical efforts on the benefits of non-combustion engines, and being a damn sight better at predicting the future than most music of this era in the process, "I Like Lectric Motors" manages to avoid sounding hackneyed by actually being damn good. A simple idea based upon stomping, jerky repetition, it's brief, to the point, and a welcome splash of cold water to the face. A popular DJ spin choice at the "Blitz Club" at the turn of the eighties, it's been surprisingly overlooked by revivalists since, turning up for mere buttons in record stores and on internet auction sites.

As for who Patrick D Martin was and what else he did, good question. Another strangely prophetic song entitled "Computer Dating" came forth from his pen (whoever he was, he was certainly good at this malarky, perhaps he should have become a Science Fiction writer) and he appeared to get minor press reviews in, amongst other places, "Billboard" magazine, but beyond that there's very little to go on. Please do comment if you know more.

And remember - Electric motors have no fears.

(This blog entry was originally written in August 2011. Reinhard Steinbrecher dropped by to comment:


"Patrick D. Martin from London lived in Erlangen near Nuremberg Franconia Bavaria Germany since the Seventies.

He sold London Avantgarde Jeans and Jackets in his Boutique in Erlangen near Disco Marco Polo.His songs were recorded in Moehrendorfstudios near Erlangen with A.Buehler (from Erlangens CULT_BAND WIND, legendary Stefan Fischer and on bass: John Davis - Fuerth later famous as the real voice of Milli Vanilli.")

David and David - In The City/ Good Morning Morning

Label: Columbia

Year of Release: 1970

While this piece of popsike hasn't quite slipped through the net - it did end up on the "Curiosity Shop" compilation last year - it has, it's safe to say, been rather largely ignored since its release despite the Gus Dudgeon production credit. Shunned even by the mighty Bible of all things sixties and esoteric, the "Tapesty of Delights" encyclopaedia, it's inexplicable that this one has been left to gather dust for so long.

There's an unquestionable Moody Blues air about the proceedings on "In The City", with a great deal of melodramatic vocalisations and despairing orchestrations about the angst of urban life, but the song has enough of a pop edge to succeed by the time the chorus rolls around. It's naive, charming, slightly silly and sweet and also somehow a tad epic with it, qualities that rarely occur in the same song at the same time. If Elton John actually had got around to covering Nick Drake, it might have ended up sounding a bit like this.

David and David were clearly a duo (and spare me the jokes about David Steel and David Owen of the Liberal/ SDP alliance, please). The identity of one of these Davids is unclear, but the other is clearly David Mindel, who would later go on to join the widely compiled Esprit de Corps whose "If (Would It Turn Out Wrong)" has been a mainstay of sixties rarity LPs. I think this is a slightly better single than that, though - not as woozy or psychedelic sounding, despite its earlier release date, but certainly a much more convincing and strident piece of work.

Besides working with the DJ Mike Read in the aforementioned Esprit de Corps, Mindel went on to become a respected soundtrack man and TV themes writer, whose biggest money spinner must surely be the British National Lottery theme. Don't feel too sorry for him, readers, I'm sure he copes.