JohnTem82387976
Showing posts with label ken howard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ken howard. Show all posts

25 April 2021

Marjorine - I Live/ Loving Shrine


 
Likeable Howard and Blaikley pop track washed up on to a reggae label 

Label: Pyramid
Year of Release: 1969

Most record collectors in the UK will recognise the Pyramid label as a source of some of the best sixties reggae 45s, issuing records by respected names such as Desmond Dekker and The Maytals. The sight of its logo in a charity shop box is enough to get the average ageing rude boy's heart racing, and usually for fair reasons.

There were, however, a couple of moments when the label threw everyone a serious curveball while trying to diversify their product. Once was when they issued the psychedelic stomp of Staveley Makepeace's "I Wanna Love You Like A Mad Dog", which had about as much to with reggae as this blog has to do with embroidery. The other moment was when this Howard and Blaikley penned ballad slid out by the group Marjorine.

The group apparently came from Jersey and there's a black and white photo of them over on the Discogs site, but all other details about them seem to have evaporated into thin air in the following decades. The A-side here is a smooth and well-arranged Hollies-esque ballad with majestic brass backing and confident vocal harmonies, but isn't quite strong enough to sound like a probable hit. In typical Howard/Blaikley fashion, though, the melodies twist around your head beautifully and enable Marjorine to sound a lot more confident than your average bunch of plucky unknowns on a small independent label.

31 March 2021

Reupload - Bryan Evans - Dont'cha Like Boys/ I Cry For Me


 
Camp glam classic given a straighter approach

Label: Pye
Year of Release: 1978

Keen "Left and to the Back" readers will know that some months ago, I uploaded Starbuck's "Do You Like Boys?" for everyone's delight and delectation. There's much more about the flop disc here (beneath the blurb about the equally fascinating Prowler single) but in a nutshell, it was a gay glam rock record which failed to pick up much radio airplay. "Do you go for a mean, aggressive bear?" Starbuck asked their listeners forcefully.

The plot gets much thicker, because a full five years after that single flopped, Bryan Evans decided to have another bash at making it a hit, albeit with Howard and Blaikley's original lyrics dramatically altered to obscure the original reading. Gone are the references to homosexual attraction, and instead the song could be interpreted as Bryan selling himself as something of a ladies man, seemingly questioning whether the woman of his desires is either asexual or a lesbian. "Dont'cha Like Boys?" he asks, while squealing analogue synths go off around him like personal attack alarms. Of course, if you've heard the Starbuck original first, it's hard to hear the question in quite such a way, and it still manages to seem flamboyant and camp. The directness is lost, and it's become an object of ambiguity instead.

It's a baffling addition to the Howard and Blaikley canon, but you can't blame them for trying to turn a brilliant single into a proper hit. By 1978, though, the analogue keyboard sounds and stomping glam beats really were yesterday's news, and it stood not a hope in hell. A shame, as this is a spirited and different approach which at another point might have lead to success.

16 December 2020

Reupload - Petr & Pavel - Laska/ Wencelas Square




  Hopeful 1968 Christmas protest single from Czech defectors

Label: Page One
Year of Release: 1968

It's interesting how often the late sixties are regarded as a period of "love and peace" and frequently represented by film footage of hippies idling around in fields clutching flowers. The period was, in reality, anything but. Ignoring even the obvious spectre of the Vietnam War hovering over everything, the USSR was also mobilising itself to the detriment of many lives.

Concerned about the increasing liberalisation of Czechoslovakia, where censorship and "secret police" interventions into daily lives were about to be lifted, the Warsaw Pact - consisting of USSR and its Eastern European allies - invaded the country to assert control, killing 108 Czechs and Slovaks in the process, and wounding 500 more. It was a heavy-handed display of appalling brute force which sent a flashing warning message out to all other Communist bloc countries - express yourselves freely and pay the price.

Petr and Pavel are slightly elusive, mysterious characters now, but at the time the story went that they were Czech entertainers who escaped by "stowing away on a jet plane" out of the country to Britain where they remained as defectors. There's no easily obtainable information about how they managed this feat, or what they did in Czechoslovakia before (the country had a booming beat scene, as we've already explored on this blog) just some Page One orientated propaganda about their escape and subsequent signing to a British record label. It's all very shady to say the least.

Top pop songwriters Alan Blaikley and Ken Howard got their mitts on them, and wrote this single which got issued the same year just in time for the Christmas sales rush. "Laska" was the only effort of theirs to get a release here, and seriously ramps up its Eastern European feel for the British market, combining the strident folk rhythms and "heys!" with an actually quite touching lyrical message. Throughout, the pair sing about being cut adrift from their homeland, alone in a strange land, but begin to speak in Czech at one point. This segment translates roughly as "My dear friend, we must learn to live in the New World - memories are good and bad - and look forward to peace and love". It's pure novelty pop, of course, but a quick search online reveals many people who were deeply moved by the record during those uncertain times. It was a heart-warming early winter tonic to many, an emotional cocktail of both defiance and loneliness beneath the blaring production.

26 July 2020

Reupload - Prowler - Pale Green (Hmmmm)/ Vauxhall Driving Man/ Starbuck - Do You Like Boys



None-more-seventies stranger danger 45 and camp glam rock about "mean aggressive bears"

Label: Parlophone
Year of Release: 1972

Mandrake Paddle Steamer's "Strange Walking Man" is one of the more widely compiled psychedelic singles of the sixties, and something of a collector's dream. Operating in a similar sonic space as the most woozy and uncertain sounding post-Barrett Pink Floyd tunes of the period, its exposure perhaps suffered due to it being released in 1969, long after the sun set on LSD-tinged pop.

Mandrake remained skint and struggling around the London gig circuit for some time after the single flopped. Their principle songwriters, Martin Briley and Brian Engel, do not remember the period fondly - somewhat ignobly for an underground circuit figure, Martin Briley remained living at home with his parents. When it became apparent that the group didn't have a viable future, Brian packed his bags first, and Briley followed a year later. 

Martin Briley quickly managed to land a job as a songwriter at George Martin's newly created Air Studios empire, and finding working by himself less successful than the collaborative work he had attempted with Engel before, he got on the blower to his old Mandrake mucker and the pair reunited again.

Scores of songs resulted from this, many of which have been compiled on the RPM Records CD "Between The Sea and The Sky". This, however, was the only single. "Pale Green Vauxhall Driving Man" is arguably one of the more deliberately oily, creepy pieces of work to slip out during the seventies, an era which contained plenty of competition. A slinking, swaggering guitar riff backs the story of a middle-aged pervert attempting to pick up very youthful women (how young? We're not told) in his Vauxhall vehicle, where he then attempts to drug them with "sticky brandy balls". 

To the credit of both Briley and Engel, the track doesn't attempt to remark upon the man in an approving way, stating quite clearly "I'm that nasty, shifty kind/ That greasy nineteen-fifties kind", making it closer to a piece of Lou Reed observational work than a Rolling Stones piece of glorification on the virtues of sleaziness. However, it's a distinctly unconventional subject matter backed with some absolutely killer songwriting - that winding guitar riff and the anthemic chorus are truly brilliant pieces of work.
Sadly, the pair ran into issues with the track almost immediately with the BBC, apparently not due to the subject matter so much as the "commercial placement" in the track, by mentioning the Vauxhall make of cars. The track was hastily redubbed to include a Moog humming noise over the offending "Vauxhall" line, rendering the lyrics a bit mangled, and also somewhat strangely ignoring the fact that "Vauxhall" is still clearly audible outside of the chorus. The title was also changed to the baffling "Pale Green (Hmmmm) Driving Man". What a peculiar situation. Suffice to say, the BBC still wouldn't play the track, and it flopped.

Both the A and the B side are compiled on the aforementioned "Between The Sea and The Sky" album, and I'd recommend you head off to your nearest online audio store to buy "Pale Green..." at least. The flip, "Jaywick Cowboy", is somewhat messy and less deserving of your attention. I've included sound samples below, but the A-side is readily available in full on YouTube.

For the next part of the Engel/ Briley story, please scroll past the soundfiles.





Label: Bradleys
Year of Release: 1973

Despite recording swathes of material for Air, only "Pale Green..." managed to get granted a release. The pair were on the Spark label for one LP under the name Liverpool Echo, and the pair's next dose of fortune would come courtesy of those Tin Pan Alley stalwarts Ken Howard and Alan Blaikley, who needed musicians to get involved in a glam rock project they had on the go.

Rumours have circulated the internet for some time that Starbuck (not to be confused with the identially named USA band) were a studio-based creation, but in fact both Briley and Engel toured with a full group, and they were a "functioning unit" on the British circuit. Three singles were issued by the band, "Wouldn't You Like It?" (on RCA), followed by "Do You Like Boys" and "Heart Throb" on Bradleys. Absolutely all of these are worth tracking down as supremely underrated pieces of glam, but "Do You Like Boys" is truly the jewel in their crown. 

Taking a camp and distinctly Bowie arrangement, the title of the song pulls no punches and the lyrics inevitably do exactly what you'd expect. Subtle references to homosexuality were common enough during this period, with androgynous looking aliens putting their arms around Mick Ronson on "Top of the Pops" being just about acceptable, but "Boys" is a total hammer blow. "Oh, do you LIKE boys?" Starbuck sing pleadingly, like Brett Anderson out of Suede pouting on the back of a pantomime horse, later going on to be more specific - "Do you really long to touch their hair?/ do you go for a mean, aggressive Bear?"

Howard and Blaikley really pushed their luck to the max here, and did so in a popular culture which apparently (according to gay singer-songwriter John Howard, who claims the BBC blacklisted him) was deeply uncomfortable with overt, unquestionable, non-comedic references to homosexuality. Starbuck, however, got utterly behind the material live, despite apparently being straight. They were once booked to play at a skinhead club at Chatham in possibly one of the more baffling decisions a promoter has ever made, and took the stage with full make-up, performing with the campery pushed up to the max. Amazingly, no violent incidents were recorded.

30 January 2019

Peter Anathan - No More Love/ Georgia On My Mind



"Northern! Mod Dancer!" the vinyl sellers say. "If you say so", I say.

Label: Fontana
Year of Release: 1966

Once every so often I'm forced to observe collectors enthusing about a single online which I think is just a bit of vaguely enjoyable, serviceable pop and little more. This, I hate to confess, is one of those moments, but rather than ignore it completely I thought it would make sense to upload this single so you could all judge for yourselves.

The A-side "No More Love" is the one causing all the fuss here. Yet another Howard Blaikley composition - did the pair ever stop writing songs, I ask you? - it seemed to have appeared at almost exactly the same time another version emerged on Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick and Tich's debut LP. Whereas their version is a slightly quirky but otherwise recognisably DDDBMT-ish affair, Peter Anathan here appears to be trying to make it a dancefloor hit. This has got the same springy, pounding, jiggy swing to it you'd expect of a lot of 66's bigger hits, the trouble is it's hampered by a slightly stiff, formal arrangement. It should fly, but it never quite makes it.

5 March 2017

Bryan Evans - Dont'cha Like Boys/ I Cry For Me





Label: Pye
Year of Release: 1978

Keen "Left and to the Back" readers will know that in July of last year, I uploaded Starbuck's "Do You Like Boys?" for everyone's delight and delectation. There's much more about the flop disc here (beneath the blurb about the equally fascinating Prowler single) but in a nutshell, it was a gay glam rock record which failed to pick up much radio airplay. "Do you go for a mean, aggressive bear?" Starbuck asked their listeners forcefully.

The plot gets much thicker, because a full five years after that single flopped, Bryan Evans decided to have another bash at making it a hit, albeit with Howard and Blaikley's original lyrics dramatically altered to obscure the original reading. Gone are the references to homosexual attraction, and instead the song could be interpreted as Bryan selling himself as something of a ladies man, seemingly questioning whether the woman of his desires is either asexual or a lesbian. "Dont'cha Like Boys?" he asks, while squealing analogue synths go off around him like personal attack alarms. Of course, if you've heard the Starbuck original first, it's hard to hear the question in quite such a way, and it still manages to seem flamboyant and camp. The directness is lost, and it's become an object of ambiguity instead.

It's a baffling addition to the Howard and Blaikley canon, but you can't blame them for trying to turn a brilliant single into a proper hit. By 1978, though, the analogue keyboard sounds and stomping glam beats really were yesterday's news, and it stood not a hope in hell. A shame, as this is a spirited and different approach which at another point might have lead to success.

As for who Bryan Evans is or was, he had a string of 45s out in the seventies on a variety of labels from CBS to EMI, including a much-fancied (by collectors) version of Cream's "We're Going Wrong" - but beyond the fact that he briefly worked with Giorgio Moroder, I've struggled to identify him. If you have any clues, please leave me a comment below.



27 July 2016

Prowler - Pale Green (Hmmmm)/ Vauxhall Driving Man/ Starbuck - Do You Like Boys



Label: Parlophone
Year of Release: 1972

Mandrake Paddle Steamer's "Strange Walking Man" is one of the more widely compiled psychedelic singles of the sixties, and something of a collector's dream. Operating in a similar sonic space as the most woozy and uncertain sounding post-Barrett Pink Floyd tunes of the period, its exposure perhaps suffered due to it being released in 1969, long after the sun set on LSD-tinged pop.

Mandrake remained skint and struggling around the London gig circuit for some time after the single flopped. Their principle songwriters, Martin Briley and Brian Engel, do not remember the period fondly - somewhat ignobly for an underground circuit figure, Martin Briley remained living at home with his parents. When it became apparent that the group didn't have a viable future, Brian packed his bags first, and Briley followed a year later. 

Martin Briley quickly managed to land a job as a songwriter at George Martin's newly created Air Studios empire, and finding working by himself less successful than the collaborative work he had attempted with Engel before, he got on the blower to his old Mandrake mucker and the pair reunited again.

Scores of songs resulted from this, many of which have been compiled on the RPM Records CD "Between The Sea and The Sky". This, however, was the only single. "Pale Green Vauxhall Driving Man" is arguably one of the more deliberately oily, creepy pieces of work to slip out during the seventies, an era which contained plenty of competition. A slinking, swaggering guitar riff backs the story of a middle-aged pervert attempting to pick up very youthful women (how young? We're not told) in his Vauxhall vehicle, where he then attempts to drug them with "sticky brandy balls". 

To the credit of both Briley and Engel, the track doesn't attempt to remark upon the man in an approving way, stating quite clearly "I'm that nasty, shifty kind/ That greasy nineteen-fifties kind", making it closer to a piece of Lou Reed observational work than a Rolling Stones piece of glorification on the virtues of sleaziness. However, it's a distinctly unconventional subject matter backed with some absolutely killer songwriting - that winding guitar riff and the anthemic chorus are truly brilliant pieces of work.

Sadly, the pair ran into issues with the track almost immediately with the BBC, apparently not due to the subject matter so much as the "commercial placement" in the track, by mentioning the Vauxhall make of cars. The track was hastily redubbed to include a Moog humming noise over the offending "Vauxhall" line, rendering the lyrics a bit mangled, and also somewhat strangely ignoring the fact that "Vauxhall" is still clearly audible outside of the chorus. The title was also changed to the baffling "Pale Green (Hmmmm) Driving Man". What a peculiar situation. Suffice to say, the BBC still wouldn't play the track, and it flopped.

Both the A and the B side are compiled on the aforementioned "Between The Sea and The Sky" album, and I'd recommend you head off to your nearest online audio store to buy "Pale Green..." at least. The flip, "Jaywick Cowboy", is somewhat messy and less deserving of your attention. I've included sound samples below, but the A-side is readily available in full on YouTube.

For the next part of the Engel/ Briley story, please scroll past the soundfiles.





Label: Bradleys
Year of Release: 1973

Despite recording swathes of material for Air, only "Pale Green..." managed to get granted a release. The pair were on the Spark label for one LP under the name Liverpool Echo, and the pair's next dose of fortune would come courtesy of those Tin Pan Alley stalwarts Ken Howard and Alan Blaikley, who needed musicians to get involved in a glam rock project they had on the go.

Rumours have circulated the internet for some time that Starbuck (not to be confused with the identially named USA band) were a studio-based creation, but in fact both Briley and Engel toured with a full group, and they were a "functioning unit" on the British circuit. Three singles were issued by the band, "Wouldn't You Like It?" (on RCA), followed by "Do You Like Boys" and "Heart Throb" on Bradleys. Absolutely all of these are worth tracking down as supremely underrated pieces of glam, but "Do You Like Boys" is truly the jewel in their crown. 

Taking a camp and distinctly Bowie arrangement, the title of the song pulls no punches and the lyrics inevitably do exactly what you'd expect. Subtle references to homosexuality were common enough during this period, with androgynous looking aliens putting their arms around Mick Ronson on "Top of the Pops" being just about acceptable, but "Boys" is a total hammer blow. "Oh, do you LIKE boys?" Starbuck sing pleadingly, like Brett Anderson out of Suede pouting on the back of a pantomime horse, later going on to be more specific - "Do you really long to touch their hair?/ do you go for a mean, aggressive Bear?"

Howard and Blaikley really pushed their luck to the max here, and did so in a popular culture which apparently (according to gay singer-songwriter John Howard, who claims the BBC blacklisted him) was deeply uncomfortable with overt, unquestionable, non-comedic references to homosexuality. Starbuck, however, got utterly behind the material live, despite apparently being straight. They were once booked to play at a skinhead club at Chatham in possibly one of the more baffling decisions a promoter has ever made, and took the stage with full make-up, performing with the campery pushed up to the max. Amazingly, no violent incidents were recorded.

Not long after their third single flopped, Martin Briley went on to become a top session musician (including Meat Loaf, Jimmy Webb and Donna Summer on his CV) and Brian Engel joined the New Seekers. All's well that ends well, perhaps, but in an alternate universe somewhere, Starbuck went nova and upset and outraged an entire generation with this single. It really is one of glam rock's most undeservedly overlooked tracks.

Thanks to the ever-excellent PurePop blog for bringing the duo's work to my attention many moons ago.



14 December 2014

Petr & Pavel - Laska/ Wenceslas Square



Label: Page One
Year of Release: 1968

It's interesting how often the late sixties are regarded as a period of "love and peace" and frequently represented by film footage of hippies idling around in fields clutching flowers. The period was, in reality, anything but. Ignoring even the obvious spectre of the Vietnam War hovering over everything, the USSR was also mobilising itself to the detriment of many lives.

Concerned about the increasing liberalisation of Czechoslovakia, where censorship and "secret police" interventions into daily lives were about to be lifted, the Warsaw Pact - consisting of USSR and its Eastern European allies - invaded the country to assert control, killing 108 Czechs and Slovaks in the process, and wounding 500 more. It was a heavy-handed display of appalling brute force which sent a flashing warning message out to all other Communist bloc countries - express yourselves freely and pay the price.

Petr and Pavel are slightly elusive, mysterious characters now, but at the time the story went that they were Czech entertainers who escaped by "stowing away on a jet plane" out of the country to Britain where they remained as defectors. There's no easily obtainable information about how they managed this feat, or what they did in Czechoslovakia before (the country had a booming beat scene, as we've already explored on this blog) just some Page One orientated propaganda about their escape and subsequent signing to a British record label. It's all very shady to say the least.

Top pop songwriters Alan Blaikley and Ken Howard got their mitts on them, and wrote this single which got issued the same year just in time for the Christmas sales rush. "Laska" was the only effort of theirs to get a release here, and seriously ramps up its Eastern European feel for the British market, combining the strident folk rhythms and "heys!" with an actually quite touching lyrical message. Throughout, the pair sing about being cut adrift from their homeland, alone in a strange land, but begin to speak in Czech at one point. This segment translates roughly as "My dear friend, we must learn to live in the New World - memories are good and bad - and look forward to peace and love". It's pure novelty pop, of course, but a quick search online reveals many people who were deeply moved by the record during those uncertain times. It was a heart-warming early winter tonic to many, an emotional cocktail of both defiance and loneliness beneath the blaring production.

Whatever anyone thought, Petr and Pavel clearly didn't release anything else here, and faded from view not long afterwards. I'd appreciate further information, and I certainly hope that everything worked out well for them in the end despite their lack of a hit single. This was, however, a festive release of which I can just about approve - it's both sentimental and hearty, and if I ever find out that the story about Petr and Pavel stowing away on a jet together is a record company lie… well, Larry Page had better watch out, that's all.

26 February 2014

Reupload - Windmill - Big Bertha























Label: MCA
Year of Release: 1969

Ken Howard and Alan Blaikley were major players in the British sixties scene, producing hits primarily for Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich, but also sneaking out top-selling discs by a wide variety of other smiling sixties scoundrels too. Arguably their most famous composition amongst the cool kids in the beat collector cult is The Honeycombs Meek-produced "Have I The Right?" Besides that, they also worked with The Herd, Lulu, and even Elvis Presley.

Suffice to say, a band launched as a Howard-Blaikley project were normally assured big-time success, and Windmill, their first post-DDDBMT act, had high hopes attached to them. With press releases being rushed out assuring the public that Windmill would 'inject some dynamics into a dull scene', "Big Bertha" was the debut single. With it's strangely Higsons-esque (in retrospect) yells of "Hoo ha!", puffing flutes (hey! Dig that concession to the fast approaching prog rock movement!) and a driving chorus, only a fool would have betted on this single's failure at the time.

Nonetheless, it was a flop, and forty years down the line we're only left with the option of dissecting precisely why. Developing trends in music can't have helped - Dave Dee and his ridiculously-named pals were already rather passe by 1969, so introducing a new band producing similar cheery, upbeat pop with the same team behind them probably wasn't the wisest idea. On top of that, there's something very by-numbers about the sound of "Big Bertha". In a similar manner to the way that the lowest-ranking Stock Aitken and Waterman hits always sounded like cast-offs, "Big Bertha" feels similar, almost as if the chaps behind it offered it to a big-name act first, then threw it in the direction of their new boys when no other takers stepped forward. This is very probably wrong, but the track is memorable without being thrilling, catchy without having substance. The band give it plenty of welly and attempt to generate some excitement with their buzzing guitar noises and chirpy vocals, but something, somewhere, sounds rather flat. That's not to say that the single isn't worthy of a spin, and is certainly enjoyable enough for a few listens, but that's as good as it gets.

Windmill released a number of other singles - including the apparently psychedelic "Wilbur's Thing" - but none attracted the public's attention, and the band's career was cut tragically short when lead singer Dick Scott died in a car accident. The other members subsequently went on to form Prog Rock outfit Tonton Macroute, of whom I must confess I know nothing. But hey, there's a video of "Big Bertha" on Youtube here, which I surely can't be alone in finding incredibly surprising.

(This blog entry was originally uploaded in November 2009.  Since then, I've managed to locate the other two Windmill singles, which can be found here and here.  So technically, readers of this blog now have access to everything they ever recorded - or released, at least

And is it me, or do parts of this sound slightly - though admittedly not much - like Elton John's "I'm Still Standing"?)



12 March 2012

The Potatoes - The Bend


Label: Fontana
Year of Release: 1966


Now here's something of a mystery. In 1966, Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich (hereafter known as DDDBMT) released the British number two hit "Bend It". Penned by Ken Howard and Alan Blaikley, it featured traditional Greek-influenced melodies, a strong bouzouki sound (apparently achieved via an electrified mandolin) and eventually became the audio backdrop for one of Gilbert and George's pieces of art. Never DDDBMT's strongest moment, it nonetheless captured the imagination of the British and European public and stormed the charts, even getting to Number One in Germany.

However, it seems as if a similar single was penned by Howard and Blaikley and released a mere few weeks before DDDBMT's version. "The Bend" is lyrically and musically very similar, and whilst you can't easily accuse people of self-plagiarism in a court of law, there was something very odd afoot here. According to the available timelines I have, "The Bend" was issued in the dying weeks of August 1966, with "Bend It" following rapidly on its heels in early September. It's entirely possible that Dave Dee and his merry band had enough space in their busy schedules to rush into a studio and record a similar track as soon as it became apparent that nobody was interested in this disc, but it doesn't seem too likely. So why on earth did Howard and Blaikley and Fontana Records issue two very similar sounding records involving presumably identical dances at exactly the same time? Was the thinking that they could actually create a bizarre Greek-flavoured scene, or bombard the charts with a certain noise?

A few rumours have flown around Internet-land about this record for awhile, and one theory is that this is actually DDDBMT larking around. However, I think the most likely explanation is that The Potatoes were a studio based creation, and for whatever reason Fontana decided not to get behind them and gave this record a half-hearted release later than originally planned. The concept was floated again with DDDBMT, an act with a strong chart history behind them, and once that record took off the whole matter was forgotten. As nobody concerned has ever come forward to clarify matters, that's probably the only answer we're going to get.

As for the record? Well, it is what it is. A foot-stomping novelty disc which pings and zings along, steadily getting increasingly frantic. It's not hard to imagine it having been a hit - certainly DDDBMT proved that could be done - but it does seem rather as if the whole thing had been suffocated at birth.

29 January 2011

Windmill - Wilbur's Thing

Windmill - Wilbur's Thing

Label: MCA
Year of Release: 1970

Readers, when I promise you something, have you ever known me to let you down?  I declared some time ago that I'd upload the third (and final) Windmill single for your collective attention, and here you go.  It's done and dusted.  Technically speaking, you could if you wished now click on the "Windmill" tag at the bottom of this entry and create a mini-album of all their available work.

Of all their releases, "Wilbur's Thing" is talked about in the most hushed tones as being their "definitive piece of popsike", but to be honest it's not as satisfying as "I Can Fly".  Rather, it's a curious, strident cross between "Puppet on a String" and a "Sergeant Pepper" reject track, all circus horns and Europop chorus.  Like most of Windmill's output, it sounds astonishingly dated for 1970, like something which would have slotted well on to the "Circus Days" series of compilation albums.  And true enough, plenty of the content of those discs did stem from the seventies, but there's not a guitar solo or gutsy vocal in earshot here, just pure and simple toytown glee.

After this, the band's career regrettably came sliding to a halt after the lead singer Dick Scott tragically died in a car accident.   The other members went on to form Tonton Macoute who took things in a much more prog orientated direction.

12 January 2011

Music Soothes The Savage Breast

Music Soothes The Savage Breast

Update: I'm afraid I've had to remove the download link to this one, though feel free to read about the contents below if that's what grabs you. 

Whilst I’m not in the habit of making New Year’s resolutions, it did occur to me that it’s been an absolute age since the last “Left and to the Back” sixties compilation.  At various points in 2010 I did sit down and try to pull one together, but suffered the same problem that’s plagued many a compiler or DJ – once you’ve pulled several hours worth of old material together, it’s hard to know where to go from there without scraping the bottom of the barrel.

The break has obviously been beneficial, as in that time I’ve stumbled upon all sorts of goodies, and I think what I’ve pulled together is one of the best homebrew compilations there’s been on this blog.  It is rather more chirpy and popsike than the others, so if there’s a theme at all then that’s probably it; but as ever, the main intention is just to put together (or ‘curate’ if you’re feeling rather precious) a lot of music which hangs well in the same space for reasons which can’t always be easily defined without using the defensive phrase “Look, it just works, all right?”

As always, the cover “art” (above) is truly rubbish, being some “soothing” moisturizing cream which you wouldn’t necessarily realize was moisturizing cream unless I told you first.  If anyone wants to come up with a better sleeve, let me know, and if you submit a better example with the same title I’ll be indebted to you, and easily guilt-tripped into return favours.

Note - sorry. This is no longer available for downloading. 

Tracklisting

1.              Peter Thorogood: Haunted (Pye – 1968)

Given the dominance of Blaikley and Howard on this blog at present, it would be tempting to claim that the compilation kicks off with a project of theirs entirely deliberately – but the main reason is simply that this has become a serious psychedelic collectible over the last ten years, and it’s not difficult to hear why.  Whilst the identity of the one single wonder Thorogood remains shrouded in mystery, “Haunted” is a wobbly, wistful thing of wonder, with an astounding violin-driven hook.  Truly the kind of British sixties record you would have thought would have been dug out long before its present revival.

2.              O’Hara’s Playboys – The Ballad of the Soon Departed (Fontana – 1967)

This Glasgow based outfit were led by saxophonist John O’Hara, and whilst some of their tracks allowed him to root and toot to his heart’s content, this is a rather more straightforward beat offering, and none the worse for it.  Veering into mod territory, this is a great single whose hook may have been too subtle to make an immediate impact at the time.

3.              Sun Dragon – Five White Horses (MGM – 1968)

Following the break-up of a band who were known variously as Sands (of “Listen to the Sky” infamy), The Army or The Others, their rhythm guitarist Robert Freeman and bass guitarist Ian McLintock became the duo Sun Dragon.  A quickie cover of “Green Tambourine” was released by the pair in an attempt to take the wind out of the sails of the Lemon Pipers’ original in the UK, but only managed to climb to number 50 in the charts before being almost entirely forgotten about.  “Five White Horses” was their final single, and is an effects-laden piece of slightly haunting pop about the sinking of an over-laden Chinese ship. 
Jon Laden, Ian Paice and Ritchie Blackmore were present on the eponymous album they released, but it’s not clear whether all three are present on this effort.

4.              Robbie Burns – Exit Stage Right (Spin – 1967)

The three lions of pop The Gibb Brothers took a break from writing hit singles of their own and dining on the fresh carcasses of wildebeest in 1967 to pen this effort for fellow Australian Robbie Burns.  An insistent, nagging Beatlesy riff stamps its way right through this track, and it’s good enough to make you wonder why they didn’t bother to keep it for themselves. 

5.              Bamboo Shoot – The Fox Has Gone To Ground (Columbia – 1968)

The late sixties saw “popular music” as the public knew it begin to split and fragment into two distinct camps – the mainstream and the underground.  Whilst there’s no conclusive record of this, it’s tempting to think of The Bamboo Shoot as one of the first acts to become simultaneously blessed and cursed with the “John Peel band” tag.  He seemed to be the only DJ who was interested in their work, playing this track eight times on his show.  Eventually, the BBC simply banned it outright, believing it to be filled with drug references, and even his support was forced to cease.
The band never released another single, and continue to insist that there are no references to illegal substances in the record.  As I’ve never heard any myself, it’s hard to understand quite what Auntie Beeb were getting so tetchy about.  “We don’t understand what they’re on about, so we’d better ban it” seemed to be the sole reasoning behind their act.

6.              Sunchariot – Firewater (Decca – 1973)

Cheekily stolen from the “Purepop” blog for the benefit of this compilation – where I think it fits in rather well – “Firewater” is a rather condescending (some would say offensive) overview of Native American life, but is nonetheless backed with pounding rhythms, disorientating echoing effects and high level silliness.  The identity of the band remains unknown.

7.              New York Public Library – Got To Get Away (MCA – 1968)

An absolutely brilliant track from this Leeds outfit, which focuses on the topic of backwater town ennui and entrapment long before it became the bog-standard theme of many an indie fop.  The frustration sounds genuine enough (did they hate Leeds that much, or was it a piece of fiction?) and the vocal harmonies and the hooks in the chorus create something which sounds like it should have been a proper hit.  Clearly it was not to be.

8.              Darwin’s Theory – Daytime (Major Minor – 1968)

Please see here for a full explanation of this track.

9.              The Spectrum – Music Soothes The Savage Breast (RCA – 1968)

The flipside of their opportunistic cover of “Ob La Di Ob La Da”, “Savage Breast” is rather more satisfying, being a pleasurable piece of light orchestral whimsy.  Keith Forsey was a member of this act, who later wrote “Don’t You Forget About Me” for Simple Minds, and the theme to “Flashdance”.  This is a far cry from both.

10.          The Silver Eagle – Theodore (MGM – 1967)

I have absolutely zero information regarding the background of this particular single, which is an absurd satirical view of a hotel suicide attempt witnessed by a gathering pavement crowd.  “The chestnut man is marching down to make a sale or two/ followed by the ice cream vendor” the band inform us cheerily.  This is toytown psych with a very bitter pill in its belly.

      11.          Peter and Gordon – Uncle Hartington (Capitol – 1968)

By the time Peter and Gordon issued their final album “Hot Cold and Custard” in 1968, nobody was really listening anymore.  Perhaps that’s why that particular album is their most eccentric issue, taking in obsessions which usually only troubled the minds of the most disturbed folk singers.  “Uncle Hartington” is about a tobacco stinking elderly relative the duo inform us is a royal pain in the rear, although he sounds pleasant enough to me.

12.          Nick Garrie – Wheel of Fortune (DiscAZ – 1969)

Nick Garrie’s career has recently returned from the wilderness and he has recorded tracks with Norman Blake out of Teenage Fanclub for his album “49 Arlington Gardens”.  However, it was this track which seemed to set the ball rolling for him again when it appeared on the “Circus Days” compilation.  An exploration of one man’s death at a Great Yarmouth funfair, it’s a lovely piece of pop from a man who would later go on to support Leonard Cohen on tour.

13.          Tidal Wave – Spider Spider (RCA – 1970)

Tidal Wave were a South African band, and “Spider Spider” managed to climb into their native country’s top 20 in 1970, whilst seemingly being largely ignored elsewhere.  It’s a screeching piece of powerful orchestral psychedelia which deserved to find more pairs of ears abroad.

14.          KG Young – Spider (CBS – 1969)

Kenny Young has had a long and varied career as a songwriter, most famously penning “Under The Boardwalk” and eventually producing and writing hits for Fox in the seventies.  “Spider” was one of his occasional solo ventures, and when it failed as a single, he quietly gave it to Clodagh Rogers to put on a B-side – which you can hear here (if you haven’t already).

15.          Dave Clark Five – Concentration Baby (Columbia – 1967)

On the B-side of the frankly dreary ballad “Everybody Knows” lies this little garage styled stormer, which finds the Tottenham quintet sounding rather more like The Monks than they ever would at any other phase in their career.  Admittedly, this isn’t the same thing as saying they sound exactly like The Monks, but surely even vague parallels are entertainingly unlikely?

16.          St Giles System – Swedish Tears (Philips – 1968)

St Giles System hailed from the Netherlands, but beyond that I have very little information on them.  “Swedish Tears” is a bit of a psychedelic stormer, though, alternating between compelling and aggressive R&B riffage and demonic, swirling organ based mayhem. 

17.          Rita – Erotica (Major Minor – 1968)

For the limited information I have available to me on this track, please read here.  I still don't think it's Rita from "Coronation Street", by the way.

18.          The Poets – Fun Buggy (Strike Cola – 1971)

Scottish cult act The Poets were roped into doing a promotional single for the long-forgotten Barr manufactured cola drink “Strike” in 1971.  This was long past the point where I would have thought their efforts made a positive difference to supermarket brands, but as I’d wager more people have heard of The Poets these days than have heard of Strike, perhaps we shouldn’t worry too much.  “Fun Buggy” is an advert in all but name, but it grooves along in such a neat way that it’s found itself sampled in all sorts of places since. 

19.          Peter and Gordon – I Feel Like Going Out (Capitol – 1968)

When they were at their most strident, Peter and Gordon could sound scarily close to an irate Mulligan and O’Hare.  When they defiantly sang “I’m going to get my name in the papers”, one could only tremble slightly and wonder what for.  Still, this song swings along so confidently and purposefully that it’s impossible not to be swept along with its intentions.

20.          Tuesday’s Children – Mr. Kipling (Pye – 1968)

Tuesday’s Children were Barry Younghusband’s band before he went off to get involved in the marginally more successful Warm Sounds.  “Mr. Kipling” seems to accuse everybody’s favourite corporate cake expert of being something of a man about town.  Keep the slogan to yourselves, please.

21.          Sons and Lovers – From Now The Sun Shines (Beacon – 1968)

For more information on this track, please read here.

22.          Windmill – I Can Fly (MCA – 1970).

Please read the previous Windmill entries here and here for more information.  I’ve finally managed to find a copy of their elusive third single “Wilbur’s Thing”, which means I need to find the stamina and inspiration to write a third blog entry for them in 2011. 

23.          Just William – Cherrywood Green (Spark – 1968)

Just William are the Midlands band Herbie’s People moonlighting under another name.   “Cherrywood Green” is a jaunty piece of psych-pop which rested on the flip of their single “I Don’t Care”.

24.          Blonde on Blonde – Country Life (Pye – 1968)

Welsh proggers Blonde on Blonde were always the bridesmaids, never the brides, playing the Isle of Wight festival and apparently being well received but never truly capitalizing on their presence at the event with a hit album or single.  Whilst their album “Contrasts” is only really worth a dip if you’re more interested in the prog end of the musical spectrum, “Country Life” (the B-side to their sole Pye single “All Day and All Night”) is the kind of wistful, quintessentially English number many of their poppier peers could have dished out, but few would have done it so well.

25.          The Gibsons – City Life (Major Minor – 1967)

Songs tartly dismissing London life seem to be more common than tracks actually praising it – the harshness and expense of the environment seems to have wounded many an aspiring musician.  As I know nothing at all about The Gibsons it’s tempting to assume that “City Life” is an Alan Partridge styled rant about the place, but we’ll let them off because the rush of the lyrical content does sum up the mood of the capital very well.

26.          Cyan – My Little Ship Louise (RCA – 1971)

The B-side of their Euro-hit “Misaluba”, Cyan’s “My Little Ship Louise” is a delicate McCartney styled ballad which I always knew I’d end up making the final track on a blog compilation one day.  The whimsical nature of the song may alienate some, but I personally think it’s a perfect closedown tune.
Italian poppers Cyan were stars for a period of time across much of Europe, but never quite saw the same degree of success in the UK, where they remain relatively unknown.

1 January 2011

Angels One-Five - Toody

Angels One-Five - Toody

Label: Pye
Year of Release: 1973

Hurrah, it's another Howard and Blaikley flop, and guess what - I know absolutely nothing about the band in question performing this work.  All online sources suggest that this was their only single, which either means they were a session group created in the studio by the prolific hit-makers, or they were given a cautious water-testing one-single only deal by Pye.  The latter option would have been unlikely for an act with high-profile industry figures behind them (albeit industry figures whose success rate was rapidly waning) so the former seems very likely.

There's no real reason why "Toody" couldn't have been a hit.  It's another slightly bubblegum flavoured kick towards the Northern Soul circuit, far too modern, plastic and false to have been taken seriously by various Wigan disco floor dancers, but still having that influence clearly trickling through its radio friendly grooves.  There's even a gravelly declaration of "What am I gunna do?" backed by a synthesised noise after the chorus which appears to have been influenced by the glam scene, making this for its time a modern, aware pop disc plucking the best bits from the seventies scene.  During a good week it's likely this would have fared well in the chart rundown, and in no way is it a Howard/ Blaikley sixties throwback.

Despite its failure, I've come across quite a few copies of this in second hand stores in my time, which would suggest that it sold a reasonable amount in the London area at least.  It's certainly no rarity, which makes me wonder if Pye over-estimated demand and pressed too many copies, or if it was one of those pesky records which bubbled under the charts for a very long period of time.  You know where to send your answers to, should you have any.

15 November 2009

Windmill - Big Bertha

windmill - big bertha

Label: MCA
Year of Release: 1969


Ken Howard and Alan Blaikley were major players in the British sixties scene, producing hits primarily for Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich, but also sneaking out top-selling discs by a wide variety of other smiling sixties scoundrels too. Arguably their most famous composition amongst the cool kids in the beat collector cult is The Honeycombs Meek-produced "Have I The Right?" Besides that, they also worked with The Herd, Lulu, and even Elvis Presley.

Suffice to say, a band launched as a Howard-Blaikley project were normally assured big-time success, and Windmill, their first post-DDDBMT act, had high hopes attached to them. With press releases being rushed out assuring the public that Windmill would 'inject some dynamics into a dull scene', "Big Bertha" was the debut single. With it's strangely Higsons-esque (in retrospect) yells of "Hoo ha!", puffing flutes (hey! Dig that concession to the fast approaching prog rock movement!) and a driving chorus, only a fool would have betted on this single's failure at the time.

Nonetheless, it was a flop, and forty years down the line we're only left with the option of dissecting precisely why. Developing trends in music can't have helped - Dave Dee and his ridiculously-named pals were already rather passe by 1969, so introducing a new band producing similar cheery, upbeat pop with the same team behind them probably wasn't the wisest idea. On top of that, there's something very by-numbers about the sound of "Big Bertha". In a similar manner to the way that the lowest-ranking Stock Aitken and Waterman hits always sounded like cast-offs, "Big Bertha" feels similar, almost as if the chaps behind it offered it to a big-name act first, then threw it in the direction of their new boys when no other takers stepped forward. This is very probably wrong, but the track is memorable without being thrilling, catchy without having substance. The band give it plenty of welly and attempt to generate some excitement with their buzzing guitar noises and chirpy vocals, but something, somewhere, sounds rather flat. That's not to say that the single isn't worthy of a spin, and is certainly enjoyable enough for a few listens, but that's as good as it gets.

Windmill released a number of other singles - including the apparently psychedelic "Wilbur's Thing" - but none attracted the public's attention, and the band's career was cut tragically short when lead singer Dick Scott died in a car accident. The other members subsequently went on to form Prog Rock outfit Tonton Macroute, of whom I must confess I know nothing. But hey, there's a video of "Big Bertha" on Youtube here, which I surely can't be alone in finding incredibly surprising.