The Peepers - Ayeo/ A Heavy Drinking Ego Shrinking Doctor

Glam glee from act who were known as Express Delivery a mere year before

Label: Bumble

Year of Release: 1972

Sometimes while rooting around record stores and eBay, I stumble upon singles which clearly had serious backing and familiar names attached. And that's exactly what we've got here - a Carter, Lewis and Alquist songwriting credit and a Barry Blue production (aka Barry Green) all of which should add up to a sizeable hit.

That wasn't to be, though, and while in fairness "Ayeo" doesn't sound like 1972's definite monster single, it's groovy, neat and nagging enough that you can only suspect that it might have crept through under other circumstances. The fact it was issued as the tiny independent Bumble label's second single probably won't have helped, leaving its fate to a new, inexperienced outfit who had yet to firmly establish themselves (and as it turned out, never really did).

The flip side, the oddly titled "A Heavy Drinking Ego Shrinking Doctor" is a Rolling Stones-esque groove which isn't quite as freaky as its title would suggest.

The Airchords - Piccolo Man/ Walking On New Grass

Irish Showband legends with a Carter-Lewis-Alquist penned bit of 'popsike'

Label: Pye

Year of Release: 1968

The Irish Showband circuit was an unusual, occasionally makeshift phenomenon where rock, pop, soul and sentimental balladry co-existed in a prefab cabaret world. The excellent BBC documentary "How Ireland Learned to Party" gave context to the chaos, telling tales of bands hauling themselves up and down Ireland's A roads to makeshift rural venues and concert halls alike.

The showband circuit seldom harboured rebellious acts, but The Airchords probably still seemed like the least rock and roll of the lot, initially consisting entirely of members of the Irish Air Corps, and undertaking their initial rehearsals in a military dining block room. Forget about Elvis Presley bring forced into military service - The Airchords were the military, finely drilled, clean-cut and obedient, and barely a trace of long hair in sight.

Despite this - or perhaps partly because of it - they were briefly top pop stars in Eire, having large hits  with "The Leaving Of Liverpool" and "The Irish Soldier", and a 1967 number one with "Treat Me Daughter Kindly". "Piccolo Man", on the other hand, peaked at a slightly more tentative number 16 on the Irish Charts, seeming not to grab the public's imagination as much as their previous bursts of sentimental bravado. 

At the bare minimum, though, the song managed better in Ireland than elsewhere. The track, partly penned by in-demand songwriters John Carter and Ken Lewis, never really took off in the UK or mainland Europe despite its populist "Puppet On A String" styled oompah bounce. The Airchords clearly tackle it with straight-ahead efficiency and vigour - even if the intro does at one point sound like the old TV ident to Scottish Television - but it possibly didn't give the Irish public enough to chew on. 

The B-side is arguably better here, being a downright swingin' take on "Walking On New Grass". You can just picture audiences being driven wild by the uptempo devil-may-care tale of musicians on the road.