Monday, 31 August 2020

Mott The Hoople




"If you make a revolution, make it for fun, don't make it in ghastly seriousness, don't do it in deadly earnest, do it for fun" - D.H. Lawrence

Mott The Hoople were my favourite band as a teenager in the mid seventies. It began for me with the "All The Young Dudes" single in 1972 and I stuck with them for the remaining just over two years of their rollercoaster career. These were their "glam" years", the years of "the suits and the platform boots" as referenced in their valedictory final single, "Saturday Gigs". At the time I had no knowledge of their earlier Dylanesque rock period from 1969 to 1972 under the producership of the madcap genius that was Guy Stevens, before David Bowie gave them the legendary shot in the arm. I have come to those challenging, but interesting albums over subsequent years.


So, like many groups who had a "glam phase" there are two incarnations of Mott The Hoople. Those early albums have a real appeal to them, but the three glam years saw the very best of the group as they became momentarily famous something that never really sat quite right with them. Mott The Hoople were an honest, hard-working, uncompromising and often shambolic band. They were never quite as good as they might have been, or maybe they were just what they were - a good time rock band who never let us down, despite what they said in "The Ballad Of Mott The Hoople". I finally got to see them live on the final night of their farewell tour in 2009 at the Hammersmith Odeon where they had played all those years before. I had been just a bit too young to see them in 1972-74.

For more information on their history at my local music club when growing up, Friars, Aylesbury, check out the excellent https://www.aylesburyfriars.co.uk.

   

I read an interview with Queen's Brian May (Queen opened for Mott in 1973) and he said "Mott The Hoople - God bless 'em....". Indeed. He speaks for everyone there.


REVIEWS - I have divided their work into two sections - click on the image to read the reviews from that period:-

1969-1971
1972-1974

Check out subsequent work from Mott the Hoople members:-

Ian Hunter
Mott

45 RPM Gems - Kevin Johnson - Rock And Roll (I Gave You The Best Years Of My Life) (1975)

 

This is a great, great one-hit wonder single from Australian folk/rock artists Kevin Johnson. It was also covered by US singer Mac Davis, who had a US hit with it in 1974, Dutch group The Cats and (one I remember), Terry "Seasons In The Sun" Jacks. Researching the song, it appears to have been covered by many more than just those artists too, so Johnson must have made a fair whack via the royalties.

It has a popularly-visited theme for lyricists - that of a singer who has spent his life gigging in endless small venues and never despite years of effort, making it apart from a brief, now-forgotten minor success.

Johnson's version (which was the one I bought in the UK in 1975) captures this pathos perfectly with some moving lyrics, well sung in his gruff, bar-room voice and enhanced by an outstanding killer of a  guitar solo at the end by a guy called Rory O' Donoghue.

The Cats' version is the "best of the rest". Mac Davis's version is much more laid-back and country. Admittedly the story suits a maudlin country delivery but, although I like it a lot, it quite doesn't do it for me in the same way that Johnson's definitive version does. Also, he names the girlfriend character in the song as Sarah-Jane, not Suzanne as Johnson does. I have long loved the bit about the character in the song meeting Suzanne and she followed him through London, through a hundred hotel rooms, then when he finally sold his old guitar until she finally helped him understand that he would never be a star - and then that great, soaring guitar solo explodes all over the song. I really love that verse and the subsequent solo. Oh, my wife's name is Suzanne, so there you go. The song also has the line "I bought all the Beatle records - sounded just like Paul..". My name is Paul, so it is, I am sure, the only song to mention both our names in it. That's a bit of trivia that is completely uninteresting to anyone but us!

The 'b' side was the gruffly-delivered but laid-back country folk of Life Is What You Make It.

Kevin Johnson joins the group of artists that had that one wonderful classic song in them - Ralph McTell, Peter Sarstedt and the like. He has no doubt been expected to sing it at every gig he has played since 1975. Here's to you Kevin - cheers.




Sunday, 30 August 2020

45 RPM Gems - The First Class - Beach Baby (1974)

 

First Class were a short-lived group that included John Carter and the astonishingly well-travelled Tony Burrows (White Plains, The Ivy League, The Flower Pot Men, The Pipkins, Edison Lighthouse and The Brotherhood Of Man) and several session men. He must hold the record for having the most hits with the most different groups (I am sure he does).

Their one big hit came in the summer of 1974, released on Jonathan King's UK label, with Beach Baby - a song which is, for me, one of the greatest summer pop singles of all time, end of story.

It is a five minute plus Beach Boys surf era-influenced piece of summer majesty, from its opening US radio sample to its pounding, crashing drum intro through its many, glorious changes of pace and superb vocal harmony. It is being young, in love, happy, carefree and sweltering hot all in the one song. I simply LOVE it. If that is corny and cheesy - so be it.

Apparently the melody was influenced by a composition by Sibelius (the Sibelius estate sued and, it looks like they won, taking over half the song's profits) and also the Flower Pot Men's Let's Go To San Francisco. There was lesser chance of legal hot water there, however, as John Carter had written it. You can sort of tell with the Sibelius thing as the tune has a dramatic, classical grandiosity to it.

I just adore every last second of it, though, and that is about as much more as can be said. There is not too much additional trivia that can be added, no drug-addled recording sessions, other than Jonathan King listened to a demo of the song by candlelight in the power-cut 'winter of discontent' of late 1973 and realised he had a huge hit on his hands for the next summer. He was right.

The group had one other very minor hit called Bobby Dazzler, a very typically seventies song about a singer never making it with an "ooh sha-la-la" chorus that I have always remembered, before moving on to other things and in Burrows' case, no doubt, another group and another hit.


Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel

"Cockney Rebel started as a non-guitar band, and here we are offering up lashings of electric mayhem!" - Steve Harley

The Human Menagerie (1973)


Hideaway/What Ruthy Said/Loretta's Tale/Crazy Raver/Sebastian/Mirror Freak/My Only Vice/Muriel The Actor/Chameleon/Death Trip 

"We were young and full of dangerous ideas and adventure - ready to experiment without consideration for the consequences or cost" - Steve Harley
                                                    
In 1973, we were only just getting used to David Bowie and then Roxy Music, then out of nowhere came Cockney Rebel. Led by the irritatingly cocksure and often pretentious Steve Harley, they evoked “Cabaret”-era Berlin and dressed accordingly. Harley's lyrics were full of bizarre imagery and he had a penchant for making somewhat preposterous pronouncements on the music industry, politics and life in general. Basically, Harley was a pain in the posterior, but wow - what a debut album he and his band mates came up with.

Harley's vision for his music had the use of a huge orchestra, on the overblown tracks like Sebastian and Death Trip. Here he recalls how it all came about -


"....In the backyard of a Chelsea bistro, under a blue sky, late summer seventy-three, Neil Harrison and I were sharing a pot of coffee when he told me he would like to record an orchestra and choir onto "Sebastian" and "Death Trip". The album was being recorded at Air Studios. We were about three-parts through, I should say, so Neil, my producer, must have known his announcement that afternoon would bowl the young Steve over. And it did. But seeing them in there, fifty-plus classical musicians, mostly old enough to be my dad, was a real shocker. We were young and full of dangerous ideas and adventure; ready to experiment without consideration for the consequences or cost. And Joop Wisser, EMI's head of A & R and the man who discovered us, was a consistently kind ally to Neil and myself; otherwise there would have been no orchestra or choir!..."

That first line from Harley's quote, "in the backyard of a Chelsea bistro" sounds like it could have been an opening line of one of his songs, doesn't it? The album, by the way, was engineered by legendary Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick. He certainly did a good job, because Harley and his band were certainly pushing a few boundaries, sonically. What was for sure was that this was no ordinary rock (or glam rock) band. 

  

Cockney Rebel's sound saw acoustic guitars married with a wailing electric violin (played by Jean-Paul Crocker), melodic piano and a punchy glam rock drum sound. Heady stuff indeed. As examples, check out upbeat tracks like the acoustically-driven art rock of Hideaway, the jaunty and irresistibly catchy "la-la-la" of Muriel The Actor and the frenetically bonkers Spectoresque rock 'n' roll of Crazy Raver.

Then there are the two melodramatically-overblown “biggies”. The mysterious, moody, magnificent Death Trip with its operatic Russian “Volga Boatmen” backing vocals and perplexing lyrics. Could it get any better? You bet it could. Sebastian. Seven minutes of glam rock’s first true opus. Tinkling piano, Harley’s plaintive opening vocal, the intoxicating lyrics, the monumental chorus. Way, way ahead of its time. "Your Persian eyes sparkle, your lips - ruby blue..." was always my favourite line. 

Mirror Freak was, apparently, written about Marc Bolan. Harley thought he was vain. Takes one to know one, Steve. Regarding the music, it is a slow pace, mysterious bass and electric violin backed number, packed full of atmosphere. It's violin actually reminds me of the sound folk rockers Steeleye Span were using in the seventies. Harley introduces the lyric "shuffle on your Mae West hips" that would be used again on the next album's Cavaliers as "shuffle around on your Sabrina hips". It is, in its understated way, one of the album's best cuts.

What Ruthy Said indirectly quotes Bob Dylan's Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again and the quirky My Only Vicedriven along by a lively electric violin, also has a lot of Dylan's influence in it (this time Blonde On Blonde) with hints of David Bowie's early seventies work in its its Queen Bitch-esque acoustic guitar intro too. Harley was in full on bemusing lyrical form on this one - "My only vice is the fantastic prices I charge for being eaten alive" is a most intriguing lyric.

Chameleon is a track that ends after less than a minute before it gets going, which was a shame, but Loretta's Tale was another enthralling Dylan goes baroque offering.

** The non-album single, Judy Teen, was our first introduction to this remarkable, creative band. Hearing it and seeing Harley camping it up on Top Of The Pops caught everyone’s attention. The song was actually re-recorded by the band after Sebastian, perhaps unsurprisingly, had failed to crack the charts. Judy had initially been rejected by Harley and left off the album. It was a good job he changed his mind, as it became a big hit.
 
Other non-album tracks from the album's sessions were the lively rock'n'roll-influenced Rock And Roll Parade and Spaced Out, the former was an early prototype of the sound Cockney Rebel would use in the 1973-1974 period. Despite a fine, rollicking piano bit in the middle, I can't really put my finger on why, but it doesn't quite come together for me. The latter ploughs the same furrow with an even faster pace and some manic electric violin. It sounds a lot like an early version of Psychomodo (the track) in places. Once more it features some great piano (introduced by Harley with a mannered "piaaanoh"). Harley probably quite wisely left these two off the album in favour of less rocking but more interesting songs. 

The Psychomodo (1974)


Sweet Dreams/Psychomodo/Mr. Soft/Singular Band/Ritz/Cavaliers/Bed In The Corner/Sling It!/Tumbling Down  

"They came from a young man's dream, where the blending of musical literature and mad, formless imaginings, could hang out together at the same folk club and present him with an entire raison d'être" - Steve Harley

After 1973’s often oddball, innovative debut, The Human Menagerie, that took so many by surprise, Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel continued in the same vein in 1974 with an even better piece of avant-garde pop/rock songs. Full of Dylanesque/Shakespearean lyrics that alternate between sixth form poetry and sheer genius and a sound dominated by electric violin and keyboards, there was some truly unique stuff on here. Harley’s strained, melodramatic voice and drawn-out vowels was somewhat unusual too. Musically, only Roxy Music and Sparks were as adventurous and different at the time, and that includes David Bowie (I did say musically).

Harley was guilty of a huge amount of vaingloriousness, particularly in his dealings with the music media, with whom he seemed to have almost weekly run-ins and also of going totally over-the-top with the bizarre imagery and literary/artistic references. They must have worked, though, because I recall at the time thinking how clever this guy must be - why, he references Shakespeare characters all the time. While it was a shimmering bombardment of quasi-intellectual stylings it definitely added a certain élan to his compositions that put him in the somewhat clichéd art rock genre.

Harley reflected on the album on the liner notes for the Cavaliers box set, which contains this album, amongst others -

"...The Psychomodo, too, was a record whose time we laughed through. Alan Parsons came in as co-producer/engineer, and his own willingness to accept many offbeat ideas made life easy enough. More strings and horns, and again we had Andrew Powell, with his brilliant classical-rock thinking, to orchestrate. I do remember where the songs came from. They came from a young man's dream, where the blending of musical literature and mad, formless imaginings, could hang out together at the same folk club and present him with an entire raison d'etre..."

The last sentence of that quote from Harley gives in insight in to the man's marvellous, expressive, but sometimes irritating pretentiousness. Take a look at the album's somewhat faux arty cover too. Despite this, I couldn't help but love him. He had something about him that put him up there with other great seventies frontmen - Bowie, Mercury, Ferry, Stewart, Elton, Hunter, Mael et al.

  

On to the songs, then. The magnificent double header upbeat openers, Sweet Dreams and Psychomodo grab you by the ears with their energy and waterfall-like lyrical overflow, setting the tone for the whole album before we get the jaunty single Mr. Soft with its theatrical “Cabaret” nuances. It is in a bit of a similar vein to the previous vaudevillian single, Judy Teen.


Cavaliers is an eight minute slow burning opus, full of bizarre and memorable imagery that appears to mean so much but actually means nothing. It is my favourite Harley track of all time, however. Just take a look at these lines - nonsense, but my, what truly wonderful nonsense:-

"Long-tailed coat, a silly joke
They drink like men
Then see them choke on Coca-Cola
Your morgue-like lips and waitress tips
And you shuffle around on your Sabrina hips..."

The David Bowie/Quicksand-influenced Ritz is similar, but more somnolent, sombre and not quite as intoxicating but the mysterious-sounding, haunting electric violin on it is quite superb, and, of course, it is still jam-packed full of those Shakespearean references and other literary/artistic ones -

"It's ok to laugh in harmony
See the white-faced Auguste's army
Come To Pablo Fanque's in indigo
We'll show you pastel shades of rhyme
Take a letter Ophelia, write
'Sorry Desdemona', bright
Peeling through the nimbus covers
We see the twisted tale of man.."

Hmmm, make out of that what you will. There are many more verses like that in the song. Gratuitous and indulgent it may be, but it was quite unique, it really was. Harley took Dylan and Bowie influences to the nth degree.

The quirky, catchy, keyboard-driven Bed In The Corner, the intoxicatingly staccato Singular Band and the frantic Sling It! are shorter, more melodic and maybe slightly less imposing, but all is returned to wonderful melodramatic majesty with the closing track, Tumbling Down, Cockney Rebel’s unforgettable concert-closing anthem. The atmosphere when the crowd joined in, football crowd-style, on the memorable denouement of the song was unforgettable.

Who knows what “oh dear, look what they’ve done to the blues” meant but if you have ever been at the final few minutes of a Cockney Rebel gig, you simply won’t care. I have never forgotten it. For more information on Harley's performances at my local music club when growing up, Friars, Aylesbury, check out https://www.aylesburyfriars.co.uk.

  

** The period's non-album tracks were the manic, staccato insanity of Such A Dream, which had shades of Death Trip from the previous album and was a track that explored the whole "asylum" thing that would be continued on the next album's Back To The Farm and the altogether more accessible strains of Big Big Deal, which could have easily fitted on the album. It is a mid-pace song with lots of typical 1974 Harley in its ambience and overall sound.



The Best Years Of Our Lives (1975)


Introducing "The Best Years/Mad, Mad Moonlight/Mr. Raffles/It Wasn't Me/Panorama/Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)/Back To The Farm/49th Parallel/The Best Years Of Our Lives 

"The people at my record label, EMI, were right behind me" - Steve Harley      

1975 saw The Best Years Of Our Lives be the album that briefly saw the (now named) Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel crack the commercial mainstream with a number one single in the catchy Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me) and a mid chart hit in the enigmatic groove of Mr. Raffles.

I have to admit that, though, even from way back then, I have never been a particularly huge fan of Come Up And See Me. Its effect on me is one of nostalgic pleasure more than anything. Maybe I have just heard it too much, but I recall not being too overwhelmed by it at the time and was most surprised when it got to number one, despite my pleasure at one of my favourite groups hitting the top spot.

The album was a good one, though, on the whole. The electric violin that so dominated the first two albums had gone, as had half the original band (see lower down). A new band in place saw a slightly more polished, pop sensitive sound with those two singles and tracks like the beguiling Mad, Mad Moonlight and the upbeat Panorama. I always really liked the line "Teddy boys in armour - threatening my whole panorama...", for some unaccountable reason. It has stuck in my head for over forty years.

The old Harley poetic weirdness was there, however, in the slightly disturbing Back To The Farm and the similarly unsettling It Wasn't Me, with its incomprehensible lyrics and imagery. 

Then there was a rival for Tumbling Down as a Cockney Rebel singalong live anthem in the glorious strains of The Best Years Of Our Lives.

Regarding the album's personnel, Harley had an acrimonious fall-out with the previous members Cockney Rebel - he sacked/or they quit, depending on who you believed, Milton Reame-JamesJean-Paul Crocker and Paul Jeffreys leaving only drummer Stuart Elliott with Harley. He had insisted on sole songwriting control, something the others didn't agree with, wanting to contribute their own songs. In a typically arrogant move, he announced to the music press that he was going to return with "the greatest rock band in the world". It wasn't quite that, but ex-Family guitarist Jim CreganCurved Air's keyboardist Francis Monkman and bassist George Ford were pretty solid. Monkman didn't last long and was replaced by Duncan Mackay. Harley said later of the situation -

"....The people at my record label, EMI, were right behind me. They believed I could find new band members without too much of a problem and continue on to a new level of success. They believed it wasn't a major stumbling block...."


  
               
The album has been remastered perfectly. It will never sounded better than this. There was a lot of hype around it, though. Record Mirror said it was "completely fulfilling. A monster unleashed..". It was good, but not quite that good, however. Tracks like Back to The Farm and It Wasn't Me certainly didn't fall into the "monster" category. 

** The live cuts from April 1975 at Hammersmith Odeon are not perfect, sonically, certainly not a patch on 1977’s live Face To Face, (Harley makes The Best Years into a drug-addled mess) but neither are they bad and they provide a welcome slice of previously unavailable live material from the brief era of "Rebelmania". 

The 14 minute "medley" of Bed In The Corner-Sweet Dreams-Psychomodo-Sling It!-Instrumental doodling sees Harley at his preposterous vocal delivery/twisted vowels best. Great stuff. Harley seems pretty wired throughout, high on his own success and God knows what, a feeling confirmed with the DVD live clips that are, of their time, shall we say. Quite amusing are the brief interviews with fans at the gig. "He's better than Bowie", said one. Well, maybe for that one evening in April 1975 he just was.

** The non-album track from the era was the quite appealing Another Journey which was more accessible than both Back To The Farm and (to a lesser extent) the quirky clavinet-driven funk of 49th Parallel. It also includes the relatively rarity in a Harley song of a harmonica solo, used, no doubt, to replicate the much-missed electric violin sound from the first two albums. Actually, I've re-assessed 49th Parallel, it is the better track, quite considerably. It has flown under the radar for me for years and I am finally discovering its quality. Oh, and just digitally program to play Another Journey along with the rest of the tracks - much easier. 

Timeless Flight (1976)


Red Is A Mean, Mean Colour/White White Dove/Understand/All Men Are Hungry/Black Or White/Everything Changes/Nothing Is Sacred/Don't Go, Don't Cry  

 "It's my precious boy, my favourite child" - Steve Harley       

Apparently recorded under swelteringly hot conditions, Steve Harley has stated that the general torpor of the heatwave had led to a certain tiredness and lack of energy from the band, hence the album’s slightly laid-back ambience. However, they were slower-paced, acoustic led songs in the first place, so the weather is only really a small percentage of the story.

For many, it is Harley's greatest album despite its slipping under the radar, hidden by the previous three offerings. This is what Harley has said about it in retrospect -


"Well, years ago I would have said Timeless Flight because it got the worst reviews. It's my precious boy, my favourite child. It was such a change for me and the critics weren't ready. It's like I heard Mick Jagger say about one of the Stones albums, it was his favourite because it was nobody else's! I never realised it was the favourite album of so many people. Nothing is Sacred is on there and when I started to play that live I sensed it was something they really wanted to hear. Now it's a real blinder and it meant a lot to a lot of people to hear it. And Red is a Mean Mean Colour is a really personal song for me. There's a lot of personal stuff in there. All Men Are Hungry is another I like to sing. It's a song people can relate to."

  
                       
For me too, this is Harley’s last worthwhile album, and yes, it is possibly his best, in many respects. It is a collection of eight non-commercial, “serious”, often poetic, imagery-full and reflective songs. There is no Come Up And See Me, the great commercial success of the previous album, or even a Mr Raffles, that album’s lesser hit.

Harley’s perceived (and often real) arrogance had the music media queueing up too knock him down at the first signs of commercial and artistic failure. The decision to release the sprawling attempt to write a Tumbling Down-style anthem in
 Black Or White as a single was commercial suicide. It failed to make the UK top 50, this after a huge number one only a year previously in Come Up And See Me. The follow-up, the jerky, staccato, horn-driven and funky White White Dove failed to make the top 50 either. The vultures were circling. “Rebelmania” was well and truly over. As it happens, though, I like both those tracks so who cares whether they charted or not. Certainly not me.


This was all a shame. The album actually did acceptably on the charts and contained, as I said earlier, some good material. Black Or White was a “build-up”, verse and dramatic chorus, with cascading piano that I, personally have always liked. Typical affected Harley vocals on it too. White White Dove was upbeat and attractive, with some good jazzy bits and a killer chorus.

The lovely
Understand is a lyrical, sensitive song with some intriguing lines like “consider me lost in aspic I’d give in but that’s not my shtick..” and Red Is A Mean, Mean Colour is an addictive number, with a great hook, although its political imagery is all rather confusing. It was supposed to be a critique of communism, but apart from the chorus, I could never quite see it. 

All Men Are Hungry has a delicious melody, lovely guitar and alluring lyrics about sitting in a Stockholm cafe talking about “Papa” Hemingway. A most evocative song. With that sort of thing in mind, the beautiful Nothing Is Sacred has even more beguiling lyrics. Just get a load of this lot:-

"We heard Phaedre speak of the Philistines of Paris
But she talked to herself like a parasite
So we both struggled free
I said 'Zizi Jeanmaire wouldn't take this
and neither will we
If they call me Napoleon again
I'll be forced to let the lion free'..."

OK Steve - if you say so.

It also has an addictive “ooh la la la..” chorus. It is a great song, despite its lyrical pretentiousness. So much of this album is so damn good that any minor quibbles about the floweriness of the lyrics go out of the window. Anyway, within the lyrics lie a lot of Harley's intriguing appeal. 

Everything Changes has a choppy, almost waltz-like but semi-funky rhythm and an extremely exaggerated vocal from Harley, something he was regularly guilty of, I have to say. 

Don't Go, Don't Cry has a jaunty, even funkier, clavinet riff and is upbeat end to a much underrated album and one I have always rated. It was a shame that Harley's star fell to earth with the release of debatably his finest offering to date.

** The non-album track from this album's sessions was the slow burning, semi-jazzy, rhythmic torch song vibe of Throw Your Soul Down Here, an entrancing track that would have benefitted the album and should really have been included.

Maybe the last word should on the album go to Harley, appropriately  -


"...There were magic moments on Timeless Flight that I'd never experienced before. It wasn't the most commercial album ever following up the very commercial "Best Years of Our Lives". I understand that. But there you are....".

Love's A Prima Donna (1976)



Seeking A Love/G. I. Valentine/Finally A Card Came/Too Much Tenderness/(Love) Compared With You/(I Believe) Love's A Prima Donna/Sidetrack II/Seeking A Love, Part II/(If This Is Love) Give Me More/Carry Me Again/Here Comes The Sun/Innocence and Guilt/Is It True What They Say?


This late 1976 album was a sad postscript to the short but extremely innovative career of Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel. Three years and five albums ended with this unfortunate, at times unlistenable, mish-mash. I struggle to understand what Harley, albeit ever the innovator, was trying to achieve with some of the material on here. After the sublime Timeless Flight from earlier in the same year, this one seriously paled in comparison.


The short, bombastic and orchestral intro, Seeking A Love, ends before it has got going, and morphs into another short one. This time it is an organ-powered thrash in G.I. Valentine that subsequently segues into the slightly longer but irritating rock 'n' roll pastiche of Finally A Card Came. It is basically experimental, indulgent drivel and it is safe to say that this Abbey Road-style introduction to the album was a rampant failure.


The album's first "proper" track is the funky, staccato groove of Too Much Tenderness. It is nothing particularly outstanding, but, coming after the previous nonsense, it serves as a blessed relief. The same can be said for two of the album's three genuinely decent numbers that are up next. (Love) Compared With You is a lovely, tender Harley ballad - he did this sort of thing very well. It has long been a favourite of mine, especially the "I'm in love with you" bit at the end when razor sharp acoustic guitar, piano and Harley's voice merge perfectly. 


I have to say, too, that the catchy (I Believe) Love's A Prima Donna made a great single and stands as Harley's last great original moment. As a big fan in the seventies, I remember when we got to this track on the album I thought "phew - he hasn't complete lost it". It was typical Harley and I loved it then and I still do today. It stands out as so good when so much of the rest of the album was truly dreadful. Jim Cregan also provides a great acoustic guitar solo. Harley knew how to use an acoustic guitar as an enhancement to a rock song. Cregan supplied a similar solo on Rod Stewart's I Was Only Joking.


The old "side two" begins with some more orchestral chamber-style bombast on Sidetrack II, before the vocal refrain of Seeking A Love II is reprised. (If This Is Love) Give Me More is another rock 'n' roll-influenced one, featuring some nice riffage. It is just about ok here, but is awful on the 1977 live album, Face To Face. The track has always annoyed me, unfortunately. Harley's vocal shrieking at the end is execrable.


The bassy and vaguely funky feel of the oedipal Carry Me Again redeems things a bit, although once more Harley is suffering, vocally. Harley's cover of George Harrison's Here Comes The Sun was a big hit, though, and it is the album's other quality track. He does the track justice with a fine, vibrant  interpretation.


Talking of The Beatles, Innocence And Guilt was surely Harley's Revolution 9. Any acceptable material on the album ends with this unlistenable mélange of farmyard noises, children's exclamations, nursery-style keyboards and distorted Tubular Bells-style vocals. I am loth to condemn anything as utter rubbish, but I am afraid to say that this is exactly that. Is It True What They Say? is equally unworthy of any real comment.


What a sad way to end what was a brief but uplifting and vivacious career. This album plumbs the depths in places. It has been critically acclaimed by many as a brave, adventurous piece of work and although some of the tracks grow on me after several listens - the longer, funky ones - I still can't accept that on the last two tracks we saw anything other than an artist desperately running short of creativity. Harley, always the converse arguer, would no doubt vehemently disagree. Indeed, I have read interviews where he really rates the album as containing some of his best work, so what do I know...
















Face To Face (1977)


Here Comes The Sun/Love's A Prima Donna/Mad, Mad Moonlight/Red Is A Mean, Mean Colour/Sweet Dreams/Finally A Card Came/Psychomodo/(If This Is Love) Give Me More/The Best Years Of Our Lives/(Love) Compared With You/Mr. Soft/Sebastian/Seeking A Love/Tumbling Down/Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)

"You got it, you got it - you don't need Cockney Rebel - you got it"

For a a long time, this live album, released in 1977, was the only live material available from the charismatic live act that was Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel. In many ways, it did not quite catch the band at their best, the performances dating as they did from 1976, by which time their glory days were behind them. They were "on fire" live, so to speak, in the 1973-mid 1975 period and this has subsequently been covered by and 1975 concert available on the 'deluxe edition" of The Best Years Of Our Lives album and some 1973-74 BBC sessions stuff on the Cavaliers box set.

This album was all there was at the time, though, and while it goes some way towards replicating the euphoric atmosphere of a Rebel gig, exemplified superbly on the opening to Here Comes The Sun with its palpable crowd enthusiasm and the spine-tingling finale of Seeking A Love/Tumbling Down/Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me) which had Harley at his crowd-controlling best, in many ways it is let down by some indulgent performances.

These can be found in "Experimental" interpretations of songs like an over funky Mad, Mad Moonlight, a completely messy, unnecessarily funked-up Sweet Dreams-Psychomodo (criminally interspersed with the execrable Finally A Card Came) and a Mr. Soft which lacks the appeal of the original. Indeed, all these versions are infinitely inferior to the studio originals.

Worst of all, however, is the truly abysmal rendition of (If This Is Love) Give Me More, an extended piece of utterly unlistenable indulgence. Maybe you had to be there, if I'm being kind.

It is an album that veers from the sublime to the ridiculous within one or two songs and a more positive impression can be gained from impressive versions of (I Believe) Love's A Prima Donna, Red Is A Mean Colour, (Love) Compared To You, the dramatic majesty of Sebastian and the audience singalong of The Best Years Of Our Lives. Maybe that dichotomy summed up the enigmatic character of Harley. I think it probably did. In the meantime I'll deliver the dawn to the Moulin Rouge on the horizon....



Saturday, 29 August 2020

45 RPMS - Golden Earring - Radar Love (1973)

 

Wow. What a great seventies rock song this was, hitting the UK charts in the autumn/winter of 1973. It was a quite lengthy, Deep Purple-influenced grinding rocker featuring several changes of ambience that don't interrupt the whole flow of the song. I remember really loving it at the time, knocked out by its rock power and simultaneous subtlety - those bits where the whole thing drops down a gear are infectious.

All I know about Golden Earring is that they were a Dutch band, which was a bit unusual at the time (only Focus had charted before, I think, apart from Eurovision acts). Their lead singer had the English-sounding name of Barry Hay and looked a bit like Russell Mael from Sparks. The song is one of those perfect, turn-it-up-loud driving rockers from the very first moment the song shifts from the briefly grandiose rock intro into a shuffling drum and bass rock groove. Then Hay arrives with his stand out vocal - "I've been driving all night, my hands wet on the wheel...". At regular intervals the song switches to the metronomic, understated driving drum and bass rhythm before crashing back into heavy rock action. It is a fine vocal performance from Hay - alternating from low parts to high pitched bits with ease, in total control of the song.

The best way to hear the song is in its six-minute album version, which features a lengthy, Purple-esque drum, bass, guitar, horns and organ break in the middle and that excellent mini-drum solo before we get back on the main bit of the road again as Hay tells us that Brenda Lee is coming on strong and the radio plays that forgotten song. Great stuff.

The 'b' side is a robust bluesy piece of rock called Just Like Vince Taylor, name checking the tragic, troubled rocker who never quite made it that inspired The Clash to cover his song Brand New Cadillac.

The song was one of those great one-off hits from a group who never had another sniff of the charts. What a one hit to have, though.




45 RPM Gems - Middle Of The Road - Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep (1971)

 

DISCLAIMER: If this is your first view of my site - don't despair, there is plenty about The Clash, David Bowie, Bob Dylan and The Sex Pistols elsewhere.

Yes, this huge chart-topping smash was puerile, inane - whatever. Yes, kids sung it ad nauseam in playgrounds up and down the country but I have always, surprisingly, loved it. I am an old nostalgic and it just brings to mind the summer of 1971 perfectly. I was only twelve back then, remember.

The Middle Of The Road single was, I have only just found out, a cover version of a song written by someone called Lally Stott. I have not been able to source that version, but I have heard the original single, by Mac And Katie Kissoon, that actually reached number 41 at the same time as Middle Of The Road took it to number one. Theirs is slightly more funky in its backing and, somehow, slightly lacks the get up and sing catchiness of the Scottish band's now (questionably) iconic version.

Now, this may seem ludicrous, but I love the rumbling bass line on the song from the moment it kicks in after that drum intro and we also have the main reason I loved the song back then - my schoolboy crush on the gloriously hot-panted blonde singer, Sally Carr. The image of her on Top Of The Pops will always be with me, although there is a better one when she displays her magnificent rear end in a turquoise-ish catsuit on (I think) German TV.

 

What was the song about, though? Also, the lyrics always quoted one bit as being "little baby don". "Don??". Anyway, I'll finish before I get all Dylanogist over Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep.


** The 'b' side was a slow rock ballad - with another fine, deep bass, incidentally - entitled Rainin' And Painin'. It's ok, far more credible, obviously, than its 'a' side, but far less irresistible.

Finally, apart from Sally, the other members of the band, in their frilly seventies shirts, long hair and moustaches look positively dreadful. They look like Scottish footballers from the era made to wear suits. Sally, though......oh Lordy.

I wanna hear you all singin' now.....