The Music Asylum - I Need Someone (The Painter)/ Yesterday's Children

Leka and Pinz penned pop for future proggers

Label: Ascot

Year of Release: 1968

Paul Leka and Shelley Pinz's biggest songwriting hit is probably "Green Tambourine" by the Lemon Pipers. While that particular song was regarded by some as being the "first bubblegum record", it was a stranger beast than that lazy tag might suggest - overloaded with psychedelic effects, sitar sounds and the strangest comedown of finishes (you would have thought the magic of the green tambourine would have amounted to more than some thumping and banging noises, but that's life, and I suppose the song was inspired by a beggar) it's hardly "Sugar Sugar". It instead sits neatly on the crossroads where psychedelia and pop often met, in common with a lot of singles of that era.

Besides "Green Tambourine", Leka also worked on multiple other records, some familiar ("Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye", "Falling Sugar") and inevitably, some which never quite broke out of the lower leagues of regional American popularity. "I Need Someone (The Painter)" is an example of a Leka flop, and it has the same rich, ambitious production and arrangement you'd expect, with that zinging sitar meeting bright keyboard lines before suddenly and quite unexpectedly dropping into a blissful, frail dreamboat of a chorus when you least expect it. It's deliberately flowery and fey, which makes me suspect the band behind it would possibly rather it were forgotten.

The Music Asylum consisted of Leonard Argese, Leonard Conforti, Louis Argesi and Louis Luzzi and re-emerged again in 1970 with a heavier, eclectic prog LP entitled "Commit Thyself" on the United Artists label, which bore only a few hints of their earlier 45's jaunt in the midnight garden. This wasn't uncommon practice at the time - the UK in particular is littered with 60s popsike obscurities from future 70s prog giants - but the about turn certainly seems rapid by current day standards of musical progression. They also shared aspirations with the Lemon Pipers who were also desperate to show their progressive side across their long players. 

Reupload - Dora Hall - Pretty Boy/ Time To Say Goodbye

Vanity single about equally vain man wins Northern Soul appreciation

Label: Rainbeau
Year of Release: 1965

At this present stage in history, you could argue that home-made entertainment probably outweighs "proper" funded entertainment by a small margin. You can click on YouTube and watch endless videos of members of the public trying to be funny, singing mediocre cover versions on their acoustic guitars and Comet purchased electronic keyboards, pointing their cameras at their dogs attempting to dance the cha-cha, or their superstar babies puking, burping or crying that Charlie bit their finger. If it's a popular video, chances are you'll also be forced to watch an advert beforehand, thereby diverting cash into the coffers of the amateur film-makers in question.

Pre-Internet, before Hampton the Hampster was even a small, hairless pink suckling thing, matters were rather different, and avenues for exposure naturally rather limited. There were very few short-cuts to fame available, and you simply had to slog your way around the unforgiving gig circuit in the hope the hard work would slowly pay off. Or... alternatively, you could marry a multi-millionaire at the head of an enormous business empire and ask him to promote your work. 

It's the stuff of lottery-win dreams, but this is actually what Dora Hall did. Leo Hulseman, founder of the Solo Cup plastic drink cup dispenser and picnic accessory company, turned his attention to the plastic known as vinyl and decided to give his wife's entertainment career a bit of a boost. That Dora was already middle-aged by the time the opportunity arose presented no obstacle to his master plan, and in fact he would continue in his loyal duty towards her even during her twilight years as a grandmother in her seventies.

If you're American, then, it's completely possible that you will not only have stumbled across Dora Hall vinyl in a junk store, but watched a syndicated television special of her singing with Frank Sinatra Junior amongst other guest stars. So relentless was Leo's pushing of Hall's career that he gave her records away free with plastic drinking receptacles, both long-playing and seven-inch, funded television programmes with her in the starring role, and generally considered no expenditure too much for his other half and star in waiting. What the Executive Board members of Solo Cup made of all this is anyone's guess, especially as the constant manufacture of free records must have put a sizable hit in the company's profits.

There appear to be two popular views on Hall's output. The first is that the woman was dire, couldn't sing or perform very well, and wasted her life pursuing a ridiculous fantasy. The second is that actually some of her output is pretty good with superb production values and some of the best session musicians available (The Wrecking Crew were known to be involved with some Dora Hall sessions). I freely confess I haven't heard enough of Hall's material to sensibly comment on her output overall, but I have heard the supposedly good tracks, and they are indeed of a far higher quality than the scoffers and sneerers would lead you to believe.

Sgt. Smiley Raggs - Smoke, Smoke/ Hey Na I Think I Love You

Songwriter Kenny Young producing Autumnal popsike under a psuedonym

Label: Decca

Year of Release: 1970

Where do you even begin with a songwriter like Kenny Young? So wide and diverse was his output, from soul to psychedelia to bubblegum to art rock and synth-pop and back again, that he makes being a writer seem like a positively sensible move. After all, while the Rolling Stones can never stray more than a step away from their formula without fans losing interest, someone like Young could leap and jump wherever he so pleased and place his work with whomever he chose, reaching new audiences at the drop of a hat.

Far and away his most known song is "Under the Boardwalk", but there's a mountain of tunes beneath that as well, from Status Quo's "Gentleman Joe's Sidewalk Cafe", The Seekers' "When Will The Good Apples Fall" and Reparata and The Delrons' "Captain Of Your Ship". 

Rather like Jonathan King - with whom I suspect he otherwise had little in common - Young also had a habit of either fronting bogus groups. He was a pivotal founding member of Fox who were a "proper" group, but besides them were acts like San Francisco Earthquake (in the sixties) and Yellow Dog (in the seventies) and this peculiarly cheerful military type Smiley Raggs who was simply Young in uniform.

 He managed two singles under this guise, "King's Row" in June 1970 and this follow-up on 6th November of the same year. It's a gentle, misty Autumnal ballad whose release date was presumably trying to capitalise on the hitherto untapped Guy Fawkes Night single-buying market, but it failed miserably and has long been cast aside as one of Young's less notable works. Let's not be too dismissive here, though - despite its seventies release date, this is unquestionably popsike and could easily have come out three years earlier, potentially to more success. Certainly, the habit of singers dressing in military garb was more of a "thing" then as well (see also Jimi Hendrix and, erm, Whistling Jack Smith). 

The Coachmen - The News Is Out/ Girl In The Wind

Two sides of dreamy melancholic garage

Label: Target

Year of Release: 1969

Well here's a tricky conundrum. There have been an absolute ton of sixties acts called The Coachmen, which has naturally resulted in enormous confusion. In typical Spinal Tap-esque fashion, some of these Coachmen became aware of identically named acts and changed their names accordingly, but others seemingly didn't. Nobody had the Internet then and tiny garage acts from different parts of the USA often operated in blissful ignorance of each other.

So (*takes deep breath*) there was The Coachmen from Nebraska, The Coachmen from Memphis, The Coachmen from Milwaukee who changed their name to the Mourning Dayze after finding out there were some other Coachmen in the same area, and The other Coachmen from Milwaukee who didn't change their names at all, plus The Five Coachmen from Texas and The Royal Coachmen from Michigan. There may be even be others, and indeed the seventies saw yet more Coachmen emerging besides the ones I've just mentioned. It's confusing. 

Luckily, it's very easy to establish that this lot are the original Milwaukee Coachmen (who didn't change their names) and if that turns out to be incorrect information, I'll happily get on an overnight coach myself from London to Glasgow as punishment. This group consisted of Jim Kaminski on lead guitar, Ray Johnson on vocals, Leon Kleckowski on drums, Rick Pries on organ and Jeff Greenthal on bass. 

They managed two singles on the local Target Records in 1969 of which this was the first. Both sides here are a subtle delight, filled with dreamy vocal harmonies, droning organ sounds and lo-fi but nonetheless blissful and intricate arrangements. By the close of the decade there's no doubt that this kind of thing probably felt dated and more in tune with the boho scene of '66, but from a 2022 perspective its one to stick on your compilation of Autumnal heartbroken sixties garage sounds. 

Terry Webster - Keep Violence Down/ Someone's Following Me Around

 

Paranoid, agitated glam pop for the working man

Label: Pye

Year of Release: 1974

Terry Webster is no stranger to this blog. He was the singer and bass player in Wes Minster Five whose solitary single we've discussed on here already, and I've also only just realised that he was behind the seventies novelty track "It's The Fonz" by Tom Catz which we featured way back in 2012. 

From this you would probably fairly deduce that Mr Webster has been a very busy man with a long recording history (and also that this blog has been going for long enough that we're going to bump into the same characters again occasionally). His professional career began to bloom in 1959 when he was the backing vocalist and rhythm guitarist in his sister Patti Brook's backing group The Diamonds. Having won the Soho Fair Vocal Group contest they were promptly given a management deal and signed to Pye, though none of the records were hits despite prestigious tour support slots with The Shadows and Emile Ford and The Checkmates.

By 1962 he had moved on to become the bass player and vocalist in Jet Black's group The Jetblacks, then after Black moved to the USA and that gig ended, he moved on to Wes Minster Five for a number of London gigs and one very obscure, regional release on the Carnival label. 

Arguably one of his most sought-after singles is "Meanie Genie", released under the name Tony Brook and released on Columbia in 1964. An early example of the kind of disc eBayers may now describe as a "pounding mod stormer", copies have become unbelievably hard to obtain. 

Webster's career then turned into a dizzying array of light entertainment, jumping all over the place from comedic cabaret performances to stints in the Rockin' Berries then finally, perhaps almost inevitably, to an attempt at a straightforward pop career in the seventies. As just about every accomplished performer from the sixties from David Bowie to Bernard Jewry (Alvin Stardust) and Kiki Dee began to find the tide turning in their favour in the following decade, accomplished performers with age and experience on their side became in demand in ways they perhaps haven't always been since.

Reupload - The Grapevine - Things Aren't What They Used To Be Anymore/ Ace In The Hole

Melancholy sixties melodies from the sci-fi film "Popdown"

Label: Liberty

Year of Release: 1968

This track was apparently lifted from the soundtrack of the 1968 sci-fi/mod crossover film "Popdown". This unlikely flick apparently consisted of the adventures of two space aliens as they ambled through Swinging London encountering men with Hank Marvin glasses and women in mini-skirts. Despite this enticing mix of ideas, and the fact that cult psychedelic stars Dantalian's Chariot "appear as themselves", it was recently dismissed by Time Out magazine as "embarrassingly dated and tedious".  Well, that's not going to put me off tracking down a copy, readers.

It's not clear who The Grapevine were, although the involvement of Harold Winn and Joseph Hooven in the producer's chairs would suggest they were from the Los Angeles area (unless they were just session musos drafted in to do a bit of soundtracking work). The A-side is a bouncy piece of elaborately arranged and soulful pop of a faintly psychedelic hue. Filled with strings and an aching nostalgia, it's over before you've really had enough of it and - I so very rarely say this - could easily have stretched its playing time out a little bit more. 

The flip is a bird of a different feather, being some rather moody hippified pop, and almost sounds like the work of a different band entirely. 

Rupert - Magic Spaceship/ Dance With Rupert

 

The Syn's Steve Nardelli masquerading as a cartoon bear

Label: Warner Bros
Year of Release: 1976

Just before Christmas, Left and to the Back reader Dave Whiting got in touch with me to ask if I knew anything about a "psychedelic" Rupert The Bear single written and performed by The Syn's Steve Nardelli? I responded with regret to say that I'd never heard it nor heard of it, but while we've never met, Dave obviously knows my weak spots well - the marginal crossover between seventies Childrens TV music and popsike is a topic I could bore for Britain about.

The faultlines between what should be two fairly distinct genres for very different audiences became pretty obvious when Bam Caruso put out the first volume of "Circus Days", a compilation designed to showcase obscure and unknown (and mildly psychedelic) recording studio acetates they'd found. Kid Rock's "Ice Cream Man" found its way on to that LP - incorrectly credited to Clover - presumably without the compilers realising that the target market for that track (and the group's other featured ditty "Auntie Annie's Place") were wee folk who had yet to leave Infant School, and not Pink Floyd and Blossom Toes fans. It was an accident that worked freakishly well, though, as it's subsequently gone on to become one of the most referenced tracks to feature on the series, loved by more people with beards to maintain than their children who have yet to shave. I also wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that another "mystery track" from the series "Father Good's Space Flight" is actually an out-take from "Doctor Snuggles" or something. 

There are other interesting cases besides. Patrick Campbell-Lyons of Nirvana [UK] dabbled in children's soundtrack work in 1978, writing the theme tune for the stop motion animation series "Cloppa Castle" which frankly shared many similarities with the twee end of popsike from ten years before (and I still frequently get that song and "Happy Castle" by Crocheted Doughnut Ring mixed up). Then, of course, Ed Stewart saw fit to cover Jeff Lynne's slightly disturbing "I Like My Toys" for children who presumably couldn't pick up on the "mental health difficulties" subtext of the song. 

The simple fact is that a lot of British psychedelia looked out into the world with the kind of pie-eyed and wary fascination children could relate to - that's why it's easier to believe Lennon's reasoning behind the origins of "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" than anyone's accusations that the song title was special code for LSD. It shouldn't in theory be difficult to pen a psych track which also appeals to the junior set.

And that's where we come in with this one. Besides having his adventures published in The Daily Express, Rupert The Bear seems to have had two distinct stabs at a recording career, once under the guidance of producer Barry Ainsworth in 1973, and then again in 1976 with Nardelli writing (or co-writing) the tracks. The 1976 singles appear to have been released to coincide with the launch of a Rupert TV series, with Warner Brothers presumably hoping that a halo effect from the television show would result in airplay and presumably sales. 

Electrotunes - If This Ain't Love/ Bodywork

Ex-Principal Edwards types collaborate with Tony Hannaford

Label: Cobra

Year of Release: 1980

As the eighties dawned, refugees from previous decades frequently tried their hardest to adapt to the dominant new trends of the day. Nirvana's attempt at going New Wave is one of my favourite examples of how well seasoned musicians and songwriters often adapted to what (on the surface) felt like some very radical changes to the musical landscape.

In truth, things were seldom as clear-cut as that. Frequently these were the very musicians who set up the younger innovators who followed, whether anyone was prepared to acknowledge that or otherwise. In 1974, for example, the white reggae group GT Moore And The Reggae Guitars signed to Charisma and combined reggae rhythms with the slick pop sounds of the day far ahead of the likes of UB40. While their sound was never especially deep or heavy, they picked up admiration from authentic reggae fans while supporting the likes of Jimmy Cliff on tour. 

More crucially still, understanding the essential principles of the genre put vocalist and drummer Tony Hannaford in an incredibly good position to act as a key part of any aspiring ska or reggae inspired New Wave act in 1980. So it proved with this act, Electrotunes, but let's not kid ourselves that the rest of the group were naive young street urchins either - both Geoff Nicholls and Nick Pallett were previously members of the hippy performance art and rock collective Principal Edwards who John Peel signed to his Dandelion label at the height of prog. 

While all this probably made Electrotunes seem somewhat long in the tooth to anyone in the audience wearing Prince Charles check trousers, their sound is solid and convincing; clearly influenced by The Police rather than The Specials, but skanking confidently and pushing the pop chorus hard thanks to Hannaford's songwriting experience. "If This Ain't Love" could easily have been a moderately placed chart hit, but sadly didn't make the grade and no follow-up releases were forthcoming.

The Boston Crabs - You Didn't Have To Be So Nice/ Gin House

Geoff Motto, ex-bandmate of Syd Barrett, beating Syd & co to an EMI deal

Label: Columbia

Year of Release: 1966

Oh, what might have been. Geoff Mott and The Mottoes were a bunch of rock and rollers from Cambridge who consisted of Mott on vocals, Clive Welham on drums, Syd Barrett on guitar and Roger Waters on bass (according to some reports, although Waters' involvement is by no means universally agreed). They managed one gig, a CND benefit in the town, where they enthusiastically raced their way through some rock n roll covers which were well received. The group excitedly talked about arranging other live shows before completely failing to take matters further. 

Were it not for the involvement of the two key members of Pink Floyd, this would have been an utterly unremarkable event, another non-story about some aspiring teenagers who couldn't get their shit together enough to capitalise on their energy and enthusiasm. Given the apparent involvement of those two luminaries, however, it will forever feel like a huge missed opportunity (on the part of Welham and Motto at least).

All was not completely lost, however. Eventually Geoff Motto's talents were placed at the forefront of this local band, The Boston Crabs (named after the wrestling move rather than the city itself or indeed the nipping seaside crustacean). In the great pop race, they certainly managed to usurp Waters and Barrett initially, becoming the first ever Cambridge group to sign to a label. The debut 45 "Down In Mexico" was a Lieber/Stoller composition given a solid if somewhat polite beat performance, while the follow-up "As Long As I Have You" manages to get a bit more hot under the collar. 

Crucially though, neither single charted, and the group opted (or were perhaps enticed) to cover The Lovin' Spoonful's "You Didn't Have To Be So Nice" for their third effort in 1966. It's a sympathetic, rounded and jaunty cover, with Mott's vocals managing to drift into polite, English dreaminess, while the moody cover of "Gin House Blues" on the flip picked up so much interest from collectors that it made its way on to an EMI rarities compilation "My Generation" in 1976. Certainly, the B-side is a lot more interesting than the plug side in this case, and shows off the group's abilities as competent blues players - sadly, my copy is not in top condition, but a cleaner version can be found on YouTube.