STAR - Children Of The Sun/ Your Time Will Come

Label: Bradleys

Year of Release: 1973

A strange one, this. Bradleys were the recorded music arm of Associated Television (ATV), but unlike BBC Records and Tapes didn't solely specialise in output related to their programmes. The formation of this sister company was largely due to the creation of ATV Music, which began as a publishing house for TV themes but quickly wriggled its tentacles into all kinds of profitable directions, including buying up The Beatles Northern Songs catalogue. 

Bradleys should have been a serious contender in the record charts with such financial muscle behind them, but the vast majority of their output consisted of pop flops - bright, shiny 45s which clearly had their eyes on success but could never quite make it over the line. As a result, the label came and went within three-and-a-half years leaving very little impression on popular culture at all, unlike its parent television company which gave the world The Muppet Show, Family Fortunes, The Golden Shot, and Pipkins. 

The unfortunately named Star were among their many hopefuls, but this was their only recorded effort, and in common with most of their label mates, it achieved nish. Both sides have a pretty and harmonious bright seventies pop feel to them - the early part of the decade was utterly riddled with warm, hopeful songs offering optimistic viewpoints. "Children Of The Sun" opens with slide guitar and a bluesy message, before moving towards a giant hug of a chorus for all the kids everywhere. At the time, serious critics would probably have dismissed this as mere froth, but it's got a richness and bouyancy a lot of the cast-off rock records of the same era frankly didn't have. Why live off cold second-hand blues riffs when you can also let the sunshine in through the curtains occasionally? 

 

Reupload - Tiger Tim - Merry Christmas, Mr. Christmas/ Moving On

 

Label: President

Year of Release: 1975

Given that singles released by radio DJs are normally either super-whacky novelty items or embarrassing attempts by fading names to gain a future on the cabaret circuit, I expected the worst here. Shockingly though, "Merry Christmas Mr. Christmas" is a bit of a festive corker released in a decade that wasn't short of them. 

Pleasingly arranged with an unobtrusive and not at all sickly orchestra, an incredibly sticky chorus and subtle melodic changes, it sounds full of warmth and goodwill, and very much like a hit. If the Bay City Rollers had put it out, you can guarantee it would have been enormous, but in the hands of a local radio star who had little presence outside Scotland, it disappeared from view. 

"Tiger" Tim Stevens began working as a radio DJ in the West of Scotland in 1973, spending most of his career on Radio Clyde where he remained until 2010. 1975 saw him going off-air to attempt a career in music, of which this single and "Stargirl" on the GTO label were the only results. Despite the fact that "Stargirl" used a slightly more voguish glam sound, it also failed to generate sales.

Cleveland People - Looky Looky/ Sands Of Time

 

Label: Philips

Year of Release: 1971

Giorgio Moroder's "Looky Looky" was a million-seller in Europe in 1969, an unashamedly bubblegum smash overloaded with Beach Boys-esque harmonies and that unusual braying and mooing the stripy topped surfing lads loved to do. For whatever reason, British audiences really didn't take to it, though, and it remains largely unplayed and unloved on UK airwaves.

Understandably, some individuals obviously saw an opening a couple of years later. This record seems to be a somewhat cynical, calculated answer to the riddle "What if 'Looky Looky' could have been a hit in the UK, but MCA just screwed up the plugging and marketing?" The Easybeats manager Mike Vaughan stepped up to answer the riddle with his best shot, assembled what I'm 99% sure was a session group in the form of The Cleveland People, and sat back and waited for Philips to do a better job of things.

We all know what happened, of course - it flopped all over again and everyone was presumably forced to conclude that the Brits possibly just weren't into something so intensely sugary after all. Nonetheless, it's a well-produced version, though perhaps would have performed better with a few scuffs around the edges and bigger, bolder driving rhythms.

Of more interest to most readers will probably be "Sands Of Time" on the flip, penned by Carolin Gunston and Peter James Wilson (aka Dove). Soulful, faintly progressive and whiffing of mods trying to find a new direction in the new decade, it may fade far too early, but it's got a mellow maturity which is utterly at odds with the A-side. 

Glory - Anabella/ It's The Way That You Feel It

 

Label: Bumble

Year of Release: 1972

Bumble was a short-lived and rather strange label in the seventies, issuing all manner of styles and genres, from bubblegum to middle-of-the-road pop to - most bafflingly - a live album by the Flying Burrito Brothers. Its incoherent identity was pronounced enough that it was even gently criticised in the trade press, and may have been one small reason the label limped to its death after an uneventful and hitless few years.

A lot of the artists who recorded for it released one record and were never heard from again, and Glory in this case are no exception. Who are they? Sorry, I can't help you there, chief. 

What I can tell you for a fact is that the song "Annabella" is perhaps best known as the B-side of Cliff Richard's "Silvery Rain". Given that "Silvery Rain" climbed to number 27 in 1971, a distinctly underpowered performance by Cliff's usual standards, that's not really saying a great deal - but it's all I've got.

The song itself is a gentle, chiming ballad with lyrics which tilt towards the twee end of the songsmith's spectrum. Once the almost Christmassy intro slips to one side, the song reveals itself to be an attempt at yet another powerful but wistful ballad with an anthemic chorus. "Annabella, um-ber-rella!/ Standing on the corner when the rain comes down/ that's the way I'll always think of you... Annabella/ umbrella CHILD!" they sing, perhaps taking a few cues from The Hollies' "Bus Stop". 

The public were clearly not impressed by this attempt to fetishise rain and umbrellas in such a strident fashion - the songwriters might have got further with PVC raincoats, perhaps - and this single barely sold at all, proving to be one of the harder to trace aspects of the Bumble back catalogue. My copy has obviously been very well  loved as it suffers from some needle-wear, but it's the best you're going to get for now.

The Victors - Take This Old Hammer/ The Answer Is No

 

Label: Oriole

Year of Release: 1965

While other labels splashed slogans like "Where The Stars Are!" or "The Place The Hits Happen!" across their company sleeves, Oriole were arguably an early example of a label taking the outsider indie approach, opting instead for "Young - New - Exciting". With no exclamation marks, a daring surfeit of hyphens, and a simple statement of fact, Oriole's company bags were bright yellow, used modernist typography and pushed a hipper approach. "We're where it's at", they seemed to say, "whereas EMI, Decca and all those old showhorses are way back where it used to be".

It's a fascinating label, featuring material which was sometimes way ahead of the marketplace, albeit often licensed (they were the first UK label to press up records by Stevie Wonder, for example, thanks to an early deal with Motown) and quaint, clodhopping attempts to capture that fast-moving youth market, through Joe Meek produced novelty singles to under-produced beat based fare.

They actually scored a number of hits during the fifties and at the turn of the following decade, but by the mid-sixties were beginning to look neither young, new or exciting, but rather middle-aged, weary and distracted. Besides the main label itself, their Embassy subsidiary (providing Woolworth department stores with cheap, knock-off cover versions of the day's hits) was a good cash cow, and their pressing plant was often hired out to the likes of EMI for pressing over-runs of Beatles records and other major singles where their plant in Hayes was struggling to keep up with demand. With all this going on, it's perhaps inevitable that marketing of the main label began to seem half-hearted by comparison. 

Oriole's approach to master tapes was also unbelievably cavalier, with label bosses believing that they should be continually be wiped and reused, even for hit recordings, rather than waste money keeping a library of tracks to reissue or license to others. It's enough to make a pop music historian's ears bleed with shock.

So then, nestling somewhere in the "missing believed wiped" file is this 1964 beat single from the mysterious Victors. The A-side is a cover of the blues standard "Take This Old Hammer", which in the manner of a lot of Brit Blues of the period is drenched in harmonica and nasally lead vocals. It probably didn't put the fear of God into the Rolling Stones, but it's as good as many of the UK beat-blues efforts of the period.

Reupload - Ebenezer Moog - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/ Silent Night

 

Label: Rocket

Year of Release: 1975

Well, here's a bizarre old release. Consisting entirely of Moog and Theremin twiddling versions of two Christmas carol classics, it's hard to understand how anyone thought it would be in-demand. Analogue synths were deeply exciting and increasingly commercial news in the mid-seventies, but the leading proponents tended to be German groups such as Neu! and Kraftwerk, or the more ambitious art and prog rockers.

Alongside the hairier and more thoughtful synth wizards were, of course, lots of electronic stylings of Bach and Mozart and traditional songs on vinyl, and this little 45 seems to fall somewhere between the two stools. The A-side is cheap jollity - you can probably imagine how it sounds before you even press 'play' - but the B-side is very interesting, and if we flex our collective imaginative muscles, it slightly sounds like a precursor to the Ambient House records of the early nineties (and in fact, if I had to pick one example in particular, Jimmy Cauty out of the KLF's "Space" would be the most obvious). Filled with radio samples of astronauts, eerie rumblings and a simple, sweet warbling electronic take on "Silent Night", it's high on atmosphere. True, you get the vague sense that it might have taken all of half an hour to record, but it's one of the better festive Moog covers I've heard.

M.U.5 - Rain-Dance/ Mrs. Watson

 

Label: Crystal

Year of Release: 1972

It's extremely rare to find an old record which is still accompanied by its original press release. While record company hype often means that they should be treated with a grain of salt as accurate sources - back in my old days of student journalism, I got tired of indie bands falsely claiming they'd "even managed to get in the Argentinian/Moroccan/Lebanese/Cypriot top ten with this one!!!" - they're usually at least reliable when it comes to band line-ups.

In this case, though, it's a big old slab of nothing we're offered. "M.U.5 give out with some real hypnotic sounds," the press sheet begins, "Heavy drumbeats, neat guitar chords, and chanting voices that conjure up a spooky atmosphere... Just right for you to get up and do your own thing to!

Look out discos - you could well have a new dance craze on your hands with 'Rain-Dance'".

And that's it. No band history, no line-up, nothing that's of any use to me here. All this leads me to conclude that M.U.5 were some kind of session group who were pulled together to create a possible hit.

Perhaps more interestingly, though, "Rain-Dance" is a bit of a bore it's difficult to imagine anyone dancing to. The flip-side "Mrs. Watson", on the other hand, hits that sweet spot between late sixties popsike and Northern Soul, and would surely have made for a better bet if only it had been released at least four years earlier. The anonymous lead singer rambles on about a haughty next-door neighbour who just won't give him the time of day while strings soar, rhythms pound and frustration seeps out of every rotation of this disc.

Ted Rogers - I Can't Stop Thinking Of You/ All I Need's The Baby

 

Label: Piccadilly
Year of Release: 1965

Only truly lucky famous people get to choose what they're famous for. Talent doesn't always help - even the very talented usually only have one breakthrough moment which resonates with the public and defines them forevermore.

Ted Rogers was a man of many light entertainment skills, performing on the Billy Cotton Band Show, hosting Sunday Night At The London Palladium, and touring and singing alongside Bing Crosby. To most British people, however, he's probably best known as the host of the mind-bendingly complicated quiz show "3-2-1", a programme filled with riddles so obtuse they even caused my father, a keen crossword solver, to throw his newspaper to the floor with exasperation. 

Was Ted then the host of one of the few intellectual quiz shows of the seventies and eighties, or the captain of a crooked ship with fixed prizes? Answering that question would involve an analysis of multiple episodes of "3-2-1", and if you've got the time to do that, be my guest and submit your dissertation to the usual email address by 5th January 2024. All essays which are more than 2,500 words long will not be accepted.

Naturally, Ted's days with Dusty Bin also overshadowed his talents as a singer which, to be blunt, were serviceable but never exceptional. He released three singles in the sixties, of which this was the first. It's exactly as you'd expect, except with a deep depressive streak - Ted closes his eyes and croons away to his ex, telling her that he's essentially obsessed with her and will cry to infinity and continue to keep "hurting himself". Put the razor blades away, Ted, she's bound to come back to you when you have your own hit show on Yorkshire TV.

The Paupers - Southdown Road/ Numbers

 

Label: Verve Forecast

Year of Release: 1969

The Paupers were not exactly a blessed Canadian band. Formed in Toronto in 1964, they prided themselves on a (possibly exaggerated) work ethic and heavily hyped "live tightness", offering audiences in the area a dependable experience for the price of their gig tickets. 

What they sadly lacked was a steady line-up. Between their debut single "Never Send You Flowers" emerging in 1965 and this final effort in 1969, they lost two key original players - vocalist and rhythm guitarist Dan Marion and bass player Denny Gerrard - and were sent on long American tours which didn't result in significant success across the border.

Despite internal HR struggles, their musical journey was surprisingly fast. The debut 45 is without question a naive, slightly ramshackle, spindly fawn of a record which sounds as if it may fall over at any moment. The follow-up "If I Told My Baby" is punchier but still clearly a product of the beat era. 

By 1967's "Simple Deed", however, the group were hairy, laidback and were finally settling into a much more progressive sound, which resulted in a number 21 Canadian hit.  The chart success didn't last, though, and the following album and accompanying single "Magic People" didn't create a huge impression despite a lot of record label backing and hype, managing only to climb to number 178 on the US charts. 

By the time "Southdown Road" emerged the band were on their last legs, skint and in a state of disarray, but it doesn't show in these grooves. While the A-side isn't as memorable as it might be, the flipside "Numbers" is mean, heavy slice of hippy rock which provides no hints to the band's imminent demise. 

Reupload - Mike Wade - On The Make

 

Label: [acetate]
Year of Release: [n/a]

Acetates, particularly ones of unreleased songs, spark huge excitement in me. It doesn't necessarily matter if the song isn't a lost gem - I've been getting my knees dirty digging in plastic crates for long enough now to know that's a very rare occurrence - it's just interesting to get hold of a polished recording which never made it past the private studio pressing stage. If a record that only sold fifty copies is scarce, then an acetate which was only shared among a handful of people is always going to feel a bit like a "precious thing" to a record collector.

The trouble is, acetates usually aren't very cheap either, and if I'm being honest, they tend not to overly enthuse "Left and to the Back" readers, who perhaps sense that if it wasn't good enough to make it into record shops, it's probably not worth clicking to investigate further. If I'm being fair, that's not usually an unreasonable assumption. "So what have we here?" you may well ask while stroking your chins, and let me tell you...

Mike Wade was one of many theatrical, big-voiced male solo singers in the sixties, who issued one 45 on Beacon ("Lovers", backed with the danceable "Two Three Four") and two on Polydor ("Happiness" and "Lovin' You Lovin' Me"). With a singing style which does seem rather reminiscent of Scott Walker at times, he nonetheless failed to take the kind of creative risks our dearly departed friend did - there were to be no songs about death or Stalin, nor meat punched for its percussive qualities round at Mike's house.

As Scott became ever more introspective and experimental, perhaps record label bosses saw Mike Wade as being somebody who could be wheeled into his place. That really wasn't to be, though - all his singles sold poorly, and it's very tricky to track down any of them now. Scott's, on the other hand, have been reissued time and time over.

Val and the V's - I Like The Way/ With This Theme

Label: CBS

Year of Release: 1967

It's astonishing that so few family groups emerged in the sixties. Parents were still popping out sprogs in the fifties at a rate where there often wasn't much of an age gap between them, the beat boom tempted any kid with the means into a group, and say what you want about your family (and I know you will) but... well, they're just there, aren't they? You've lived with them for long enough to already have a firm impression about their talent and reliability, and living in the same house makes organising rehearsals a doddle.

Val Melfi and her Vs (Vinnie Melfi on guitar and Viv Melfi on drums) firmly kept things in the family way, though, and were circuit veterans by the time they inked a deal with CBS, having played working man's clubs and cabaret clubs across the land, even gaining a residency at the Piccadilly Club in London. Their material wasn't purely middle of the road and had enough verve and swing to keep the kids happy.

The CBS debut "Do It Again A Little Bit Slower" was perhaps a little too rigid and understated, but this follow-up makes up for it. "I Like The Way" is a cover of the Tommy James and The Shondells song, and Val's tones are seductive here, snaking their way around a superb Keith Mansfield arrangement and a strident groove. By the time the organ break seeps in, you too will be wiggling your hips around the living room. This is pure Radio London stuff, and on a lucky week may actually have become a hit.

The Nocturnes - Why (Am I Treated So Bad)/ Save The Last Dance For Me

 

Label: Columbia

Year of Release: 1967

Birmingham's The Nocturnes have featured on numerous psychedelic compilations, but you could be forgiven for wondering why. They could probably be more realistically and fairly defined as a harmony pop group with occasional tinges of Jimmy Webb's influence around the edges; indeed, their sprightly version of his track "Carpet Man" was compiled on the EMI CD "Psychedelia at Abbey Road" where it felt only slightly out of place.

"Why (Am I Treated So Bad)" was their second single after their debut release "I Wish You Would Show Me Your Mind", and is another interesting interpretation. "Why..." was originally written by Roebuck Staples of The Staples Singers in response to an incident at the Little Rock Central High School in Arkansas. Nine black students attempted to enrol at the school in 1957 and were met with protests and blocked by the National Guard - the song is a response to this incident and in its original incarnation is a gutsy, bluesy, gospel-tinged protest.

The Nocturnes, however, obviously heard some of the gospel elements, noticed a discernible eeriness to them and decided to amp up these aspects. This version opens with a droning organ then introduces vocals which sound as if they've escaped from the mouths of the spectres on "Johnny Remember Me". Thudding, echoing beats occasionally introduce themselves like funeral drums, and the end effect may not be quite what The Staple Singers had in mind - in fact, there's a whole debate to be had here about whether a white Brummie group deviating from Roebuck Staples' intentions is appropriate - but it is startling. It's not exactly the precursor to The Specials "Ghost Town", but it does nonetheless take a politically charged topic and cut it through with a desolate, windblown feel. 

The B-side, on the other hand, is a fairly hollow pedestrian jog through The Drifters classic which sounds as if it may have been recorded in one take. You can't have everything.

Sunny Goodge Street - If My Name Was Oscar/ Just Ain't Right

 

Label: Fraternity

Year of Release: 1974

It's been said so often that I'm reluctant to repeat it, but the idea that "toytown" psychedelic pop evaporated out of existence on New Years Eve in 1969 is fanciful. Unfashionable styles and genres never disappear from music completely; they just become gradually less commonly sighted in any given week's new release pile. Why, you could argue that some of They Might Be Giants' work is essentially toytown psychedelia or popsike and I might not completely disagree with you. 

The stylistic origins of bouncy, merry-happy sixties tunes about cobblers, market stall owners, watch makers and eccentric tramps were obviously in The Beatles and The Kinks more music-hall orientated work, and the former group had such a colossal influence on pop music that simply stamping it out was going to be impossible.

Certainly, the Dayton, Ohio group Sunny Goodge Street - named after the superb Donovan song - seemed in thrall to that side of the Fabs, as the A-side to this single proves. It's rude and lazy to describe the work of others by referring to their obvious influences, but in this case I almost have no choice. "If My Name Was Oscar" is almost exactly what you'd get if "When I'm 64" and "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" bred and had a baby song of their own. It's a jaunty, japey minute and forty seconds of music hall styled self-doubt, only delivered with an American accent. "If I had a beard/ would you think that I was weird/ would you tell me I had to shave?" they ask. Yes we would. Get busy with the blades and foam, hairies. 

Somewhat more oddly, they also sing "If my name was Oscar/ would you love me just the same/ would I have to change my name/ who would be to blame?" which doesn't make an awful lot of sense to me - was the name Oscar spectacularly unhip and undesirable by 1974, to the extent that men were adopting pseudonyms to avoid romantic embarrassment? It all seems a bit much to me.

Side B of this single is an entirely different proposition, though, as Sunny Goodge Street rock out in a much more seventies-friendly fashion, sounding almost like a completely different band. People who feel uncomfortable around twee sixties styled pop may therefore find more to enjoy away from the plug side.

Mojo Hannah - Six Days On The Road (LP)

Label: Kingdom
Year of Release: 1973

Mojo Hannah first came to my attention when a few years back, somebody wised me up to their hypnotic and delightful 1973 single "St. Jeremy". Sounding for all the world like a probable hit, "St. Jeremy" contains earthy early seventies rock grit in its fingernails but also the flamboyant sounds of a Cockney Rebel-esque fiddle and a pounding, repetitive and very vaguely artrock structure. It sounds like something you'd expect from some glam rockers with Bachelor of Arts degrees.

Hold that thought for a second, because Mojo Hannah were actually formed by ex-Sweet boy Mick Stewart, who was with that group for a mere year between 1969-70. On the other hand, don't don a pair of silver platform boots and put away all the breakables just yet - far from being a stomping record filled with rockers about teenage rebellion and ballrooms being somehow "blitzed", or even a stylistic follow-on from The Sweet's earliest bubblegum days, the Hannahs largely produce a solid approximation of Southern country-rock across both sides of this LP.

"Six Days On The Road" is largely straight-ahead bar-room country rock, with plenty of squeaking cattle gut and songs about living one's life as a somewhat raucous individual. For fans of that genre, especially those who like it raw, unpolished and untroubled by slick production, there's lots to love here - the group sound as if they're on stage in front of you pounding their way through a series of songs which will probably mention Louisiana or the Mississippi Delta any second.

For my tastes, they're at their most interesting when they get into a stoned, hypnotic groove, and "St. Jeremy" is the absolute ace in the pack from that point of view - I was originally going to buy the single, until realising that I could obtain a copy of the whole album cheaper - and "Cajun Girl" isn't half bad either, with a gorgeous electric piano line combining with a repetitive beat and some beautiful close vocal harmonies from the boys. Excerpts from both tracks can be found behind the link, but don't necessarily treat them as entirely representative of the rest of the album.

The Pineapple Chunks - Drive My Car/ Dream About You

 

Label: Mercury

Year of Release: 1966

Maybe it's a generational thing, but when I hear "beep beep, beep beep, yeah!" the first thing I think about isn't The Beatles "Drive My Car" - as it damn well should be - but Radio One's traffic news jingle from the eighties. You know, the one which cheerily went "Traffic neee-eews, on Radio Wuh-hu-hun!" while various motorists probably seethed in frustration out there in the real world (it's on YouTube if you really want to relive those bygone days).

This is stupid of me, because while it was never a Beatles single, "Drive My Car" was a well-known and highly appreciated number, included on many of their compilations, including the cheapo MFP release "Rock and Roll Music" I owned myself on cassette. It just wasn't such an ever-present feature as Radio One's persistent jingles. 

The BBC obviously weren't the only people to realise the track's potency, though, and the mysterious Pineapple Chunks took the long-favoured sixties route of recording a careful cover of a Beatles album track in the hope chart success would follow. With a tailwind behind it and the right production, the song of course could have become a smash - this probably isn't quite what the doctor ordered, though. The Chunks deliver it smoothly, gleefully and competently, but the driving, clopping rhythm and the occasional bursts of wildness on the Fabs original are obliterated here, replaced by something calmer and less edgy. It's not a bad performance, but the rhythm section in particular undersell the song; say what you want about Ringo Starr, but this is evidence that the man really did know what to do with Beatle tunes. 

The flipside "Dream About You" is more interesting, having an almost garage rock feel to it, with a droning organ riff sitting beneath the band's vocal harmonies and a twitchy, hyperactive but steady beat. 

The Collectors - I Must Have Been Blind/ The Beginning

 

Label: London

Year of Release: 1970

While this was their first and only UK release, The Collectors had a long and complicated history in Canada prior to landing here. They initially formed as The C-Fun Classics in 1961, then eventually changed their name to the Canadian Classics, and were the house band of the British Colombia station CFUN-AM. While I haven't been able to track down all the records they released in this guise, the few sips I've tasted are more-or-less what you'd anticipate given the band's purpose - slick, professional and sweet but not anything to telephone your friends about. 

As the years moved on, however, a slightly rougher edge began to work it's way into their sound. 1965's "I Don't Know" has sulky vocals and snappy fuzz guitar lines, and may have been a hint of things to come. By 1966 they had experienced a reshuffling of their line-up which prompted a name change to The Collectors, with the line-up of this act consisting of Howie Vickers on lead vocals, Bill Henderson on guitar, vocals and keyboards, Claire Lawrence on Saxophone, Flute, Keyboards, Harmonica & Vocals, Glenn Miller (no, not THAT one, you dolts) on bass and vocals, and Ross Turney on drums.

They became the house band at Torch Cabaret in Vancouver, grooving their way through the dancefloor hits of the period, but gradually began to introduce original material of their own. Most of this output deviated from the old style of The Classics and had folk rock and psychedelic arrangements cut through the centre. Some bona fide hits subsequently arrived in the form of "Looking At A Baby" (number 23 in the Canadian charts) and "Fisherwoman" (number 18) but perhaps the most fascinating artefact of all is the album "Grass and Wild Strawberries", written as the soundtrack to a theatre play by George Ryga. Considered by some to be a lost progressive work of some worthiness, the contents were also played live by the band throughout the play's entire run.

The Gallants - Man From U.N.C.L.E/ The Vagabond

David Axelrod and HB Barnum with a groovy instro take on the classic theme

Label: Capitol

Year of Release: 1965

While digging around in my record boxes a couple of weeks ago, I found this one dozing forgotten and unloved in front of the Elmer Gantry's Velvet Opera 45s. I bought it in a job-lot auction 15 years ago and had just allowed it to fester there in the meantime, never entertaining the idea of either DJ'ing with it or uploading it here.

This is proof that I'm not always the most organised cookie when it comes to these things, and the obvious gems in job lot auctions sometimes blind me to the charms of the other candidates in the batch. Both sides of this are worth a spin - the A-side is not the actual "Man From U.N.C.L.E." theme, but a more guitar-heavy approximation of it pulled together by the legendary arranger HB Barnum. The spindly guitar riffs intertwine with a driving beat and sinister organ lines to create a slightly menacing, clippy affair. 

For dancefloor movers, though, the B-side "The Vagabond" is where the action is. This is a Barnum composition which shakes with verve and sassiness. It's apparently found its way on to a number of mod night playlists over the years, although I have to confess I never did hear it blasting its way across the floor at any night I attended in London. 

Barnum probably needs little introduction, but began his career in doo-wop groups before gradually shifting over to arrangement and songwriting work, which saw him collaborate with Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, The Supremes, Chubby Checker and numerous other legends besides. As a songwriter, his most credible outing is probably Judy Street's "What". 

Nestling uncredited on this label (but firmly credited on the US pressing) is also another production king David Axelrod, for whom The Gallants appeared to be a commercial "themes" project rather than anything more artistically significant. Their other US singles included The Batman Theme and The Theme From Laurel and Hardy, proving that Axelrod was just trying to produce popular hits from familiar themes, and little more - but it's proof that even when given such a factory line task, he could infuse it with a certain spark. 

Reupload - The Look - Drumming Up Love/ Testing Times

Final 80s single from under-rated foursome

Label: Towerbell
Year of Release: 1983

The Look have been treated somewhat shabbily over the years. Their name tends to prompt the reflex response of "Eighties one-hit wonders!", and among the most discerning - or perhaps I should say snobbish - punters there's also a tendency to regard them as plastic mod revivalists.

First things first. "I Am The Beat" may have been their only significant hit ("Feeding Time" nudged number 50), but what a hit. Powered by that stomach punch of a drumbeat and one of the sharpest, simplest and catchiest organ riffs of the era, it's far stronger than the efforts of many of the New Wave groups and sixties revivalists they were occasionally compared to. As unashamed crowd pleasers go, it's up there with "Mony Mony" and "Brown Sugar" to my ears, only I tend to actually want to hear "I Am The Beat" more often.

Formerly known as The Kreed, The Ely group were initially signed to MCA in 1980 on a dubious "suck it and see" deal where the label pushed out a single or two to see how they fared, before deciding whether they were prepared to make a longer-term commitment. This wasn't uncommon practice at the time, and usually didn't bode well for a group - if the label lacked enough faith to commit to even one album, it was usually a sign that the band in question were not held in particularly strong esteem in the A&R department, and could find themselves pushed to one side in favour of other acts with bigger money and longer term plans behind them.

So it seemed for The Look at the time. Radio One fairly quickly picked up on the single, but MCA didn't begin to push the record hard until Simon Bates directly named the Managing Director live on air and told him to "get your finger out and promote this record - we're playing it up here and you've got a hit on your hands" (who would have thought Batesy could be so masterly and forceful about the fate of a new band?). It finally entered the Top 40 in the harsh January of 1981, and had risen to the number 6 spot by the end of the month, causing the group to begin to make regular appearances on the likes of "Top of the Pops", "Cheggars Plays Pop" and "Tiswas", lead singer Jonny Whetstone's mulleted, pleased-as-punch face peering through television screens the length and breadth of the land.

Further singles from the group resulted in greatly diminishing returns, however. Descriptions of the period would seem to suggest that MCA mishandled the act, resulting in some rush-recorded but actually rather under-rated singles and an "over-produced" LP ("The Look") which was released long after the momentum of "I Am The Beat" had passed. By 1982, a mere year after scoring a top ten hit, they had been dropped by the label and - despite being a popular draw on the UK gig circuit -struggled to get any interest from the other majors.

Enter the PRT affiliated independent label Towerbell in 1983, home to hit-makers Joe Fagin, Natasha (of "Iko Iko" fame), Nils Lofgren and Shirley Bassey - possibly not the most credible outfit to be associated with, but a reasonable port in a storm. "Drumming Up Love" was the only single to be released from that relationship, and it's a sturdy offering in itself. Filled with the group's usual barnstorming riffs and hooks, it even displays a rawness and energy somewhat lacking in a few of their MCA releases, almost as if the lower budget did them all good.

Sadly, the record sold disappointingly, and the group were offered no further opportunities from the label. The band have claimed that they went to the offices for a meeting only to find the premises "boarded up", which is interesting as while Towerbell definitely did cease trading in 1986, that's some time after this single's failure and presumably long after The Look originally split. We can only assume that Towerbell moved premises and failed to pick up the option to release any more of the band's work in the process, leaving the bemused group "waiting in reception" as they say in the music biz, only in a most chilly, unusual and undignified way.

Orange Colored Sky - Help/ Press A Rose

Borderline Northern Soul single from Californian club stalwarts

Label: People

Year of Release: 1970

We've already covered Orange Colored Sky on this blog, so there's going to be a limit to the volume of fresh information I can provide on this entry. Suffice to say, the group (consisting of Larry Younger, Walter Slivinski, Vinny Younger and Tony Barry) had at various points acted as the house band at New York's Peppermint Lounge and also served as Burt Bacharach's opening live act. 

While their recording career seems to have ended by 1973, they remained an on-off presence on the South West USA gig circuit until the mid-00s, retiring, re-emerging and then retiring again. You can't keep a tight, professional vocal harmony group down forever, especially one who also happens to know their collective way around their instruments too.

"Help" was a one-off 45 on People Records after they had seemingly been dropped by Uni, penned and produced by occasional Motown songwriter William Stevenson. For this reason, it has a much more soulful swing than some of their other records, blending their harmony vocals with upbeat, pie-eyed rhythms and melodies. The song sticks to the common soul theme of being so in love you can barely walk to the kitchen in a straight line (or not exactly that, but you know what I mean) and so fulfils the "dancing with tears in your eyes" requirements of the Northern Soul movement that I can't help but wonder if the track got any airings on the circuit.

Max Headroom and the Car "Parks" - Don't Panic/ Rhythm & Blue Beat

One-off EMI 45 from Ska revivalists

Label: Parlophone

Year of Release: 1980

This record acts as a good consumer trap if you think a record seller is lying when they claim their discs are "play tested". If they list it as an "early 45 from everyone's favourite computerised TV host!" then you know there's no damn way they've listened to more than three seconds of the thing (and also, zero points for their music trivia knowledge. Max Headroom the host was born in 1984. This record was released in 1980).

The only real comparison you could draw between the two is the bad joke that surrounds them - Max Headroom is, after all, what used to be written on all car park signs with a height afterwards to denote who would or wouldn't be able to get away with parking their vehicle there. Sometimes two people coincidentally make the same joke in public at around the same time and the fame of one eclipses the other. 

So this record offers no glitchy computerised showbiz irony, but is in fact a piece of surprisingly raw ska. The A-side has been compiled elsewhere and remains available to buy on various mp3 sales sites, but the B-side "Rhythm & Blue Beat" is arguably better and remains under-exposed, consisting of hard hitting rhythms and sweet, simple melodies. It takes no liberties with the tight ska revival template and there's no particular reason the group should have been given another release on EMI after this one flopped - but there are worse examples out there from groups who went on to become ever-present fixtures on the scene.

Crocheted Doughnut Ring - Maxine's Parlour/ Get Out Your Rock And Roll Shoes

 

Southend freaks give the Teds something to think about

Label: Deram
Year of Release: 1968

The Crocheted Doughnut Ring were not quite as freakish as their absurd moniker made them sound. While the group arguably had their roots in the London psychedelic underground - several of their members originated from The Fingers, a group who once heckled Pink Floyd for "selling out" - in reality they were about as far from AMM as you could get. Music business producer Peter Eden managed them and gave them their name (after a Peter Blake collage) and most of their singles are sugary McCartney-esque pop with the lightest of feathery touches on the cosmic trigger.

Their career is notable for having accidentally birthed a genuinely freaky classic, though. "Two Little Ladies (Azalea And Rhododendron)" emerged on Polydor in 1967 and was a gentle piece of whimsical popsike, but was backed by a piece of Eden-led mania in "Nice" which was essentially the A-side remixed and retooled to become an ambient masterpiece. The Orb and The KLF might have "invented" the Ambient House genre, but all "Nice" lacks is a series of car engines and train horns before it becomes the future of the chill out room. A number of forward-thinking Pirate Radio DJs opted to play it over the more conventional A-side.

The group might have used that opportunity to fly their psychedelic banner higher, but in reality their other singles on Deram are much more conventional, with 1967's "Havana Anna" sounding like a bubblegum track being shoved rudely and ignobly on to a bouncy castle and 1968's "Dance Around Julie" being yet more clappy paisley party tweeness.

Nestling between those two singles was this one, however, which restores the balance somewhat. The A-side "Maxine's Parlour" was written by the legendary Bill Fay and is muscled up into a towering epic; mellotrons meeting a huge moody (blue) chorus and Eleanor Rigby styled loneliness. It's not really commercial enough to be a hit single, and indeed it wasn't - but it's a fine reminder of other potential avenues the band might have explored. The track is available for download on iTunes and elsewhere.

The flip, however, has fallen out of circulation and is the brittle underside to the disc, being a full-blown rock rave-up referencing Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley and the whole damn quiffed up gang. While there's no doubt it was largely formulated by a studio jam, it's still a blistering and forceful listen, showing that the rock and roll spirit was alive and well even in such long-haired bodies.

Reupload - Giant Jellybean Copout - Awake In A Dream

 

Bizarrely named studio bunch worshipping at the feet of Brian Wilson

Label: Poppy

Year of Release: 1968

While Brian Wilson's talent caused jaws to drop globally when "Pet Sounds" was closely followed by "Good Vibrations", it left the groups who admired him somewhat snookered. Those who loved The Beatles could put their own spin on the moptop sound without seeming like total clones (though admittedly The Knickerbockers seemed happy to ape their style with very few embellishments). The Beach Boys, though? How can you sound like a 'psychedelic barbershop quartet', as Hendrix put it, in your own way? Wilson not only developed but essentially owned that template.

This is exactly where the ridiculously named Giant Jellybean Copout came unstuck. "Awake In A Dream" is essentially The Beach Boys during their "Good Vibrations"/ "Smile" phase on a much lower budget. It's a very astute imitation, to be fair, and the tremendously psychedelic "lucid dreaming" lyrics and perfect close harmony vocals combine with a meandering structure to create something that must have been a satisfying listen for Wilson fans hungry for the delayed "Smile" LP.

As the group's name might suggest, there's more than a bit of sickly sweet bubblegum running through the core of this record too, but it's syrupy pop with a rather confusing and conflicting aftertaste. 

The main man behind this group was Jim Ryan of The Critters, who is probably best known in the UK for his minor hit "Younger Girl". It's a thing of pure sunshine loveliness which probably doesn't get played much these days due to the fact the lyrics seem slightly paedo-friendly if you're the cynical type. If you hear it as what I suspect it's supposed to be, though - a dreamy song for teenagers about the girl two forms below - it's a thing of beauty. 

Ryan eventually went on to become Carly Simon's touring guitarist, before becoming a studio based session musician. 

The Sceptres - Something's Coming Along/ What's The Matter With Juliet

Strident beat pop from the Montreal wonders

Label: Spark

Year of Release: 1968

While there were certainly exceptions to the general rule (particularly in the folk scene) Canadian musicians often got overshadowed by the work of their American cousins in the sixties. A quick scout around any Canadian record shop or eBay sales listing will reveal an assortment of surprising garage groups and pop outfits who never seemed to get far south of Niagara Falls, from Eastern groups who struck a careful compromise between French pop and American rock to Western bands making a fierce homespun racket. 

The Sceptres were a predominantly English language group from Montreal who released a brace of singles from 1965-1969, from the debut "Boy Like Me" on the Fi-Sound label through to their final release on Polydor "Good Morning New Day". The group made a huge name for themselves on the Canadian gig circuit due to their professional vocal harmony sounds, sufficiently getting enough acclaim to enable them to also tour the Eastern strip of the USA as well. Sadly though, no US record labels appear to have ever approached them with contracts, so no Billboard chart appearances resulted.

"Something's Coming Along", however, did sneak out on to Spark Records in the UK despite the group's largely unknown status in this country. There are two possible reasons for this outcome - firstly, the band had recently experienced a huge French language hit in Quebec with a cover of "I Never Had A Love Like That", and secondly both sides were co-written by John Carter, an individual who had a close working relationship with both the Spark label and particularly their parent company Southern Music. While the tracks were recorded in Canada by legendary producer Martin Martin rather than at Spark's studios in London, this association combined with the exotic North American connection must have made licensing the UK release too tempting to resist.

These are two solid sides as well. "Something's Coming Along" tip-toes between commercial beat pop and swinging mod rock successfully and could have been a potential UK hit. The flip side "What's The Matter With Juliet" is also a bold, brassy arrangement which highlights the group's vocal strengths. Some might call this popsike, but I'd draw short of describing it as that.