Call Out The Instigators! I Was A Teenage Record Thief

by Stuart Penney

Part One: Polydor and Thunderclap Newman

Here’s something you don’t hear every day.  For a couple of years between 1969-71 my mate Charlie single-handedly ran the UK branch of the James Brown fan club.  It sounds unlikely, but it’s absolutely true. Thanks to A&R woman Janice White, Charlie was allocated office space one day a month at Polydor Records’ London HQ to mail out newsletters and 8 x 10 glossy photos of Soul Brother No.1 to subscription-paying members. This was not only pre-computers, of course, but also before the widespread implementation of photocopiers. Charlie would crank out the letters by hand on a noisy Gestetner duplicating machine. It was a tiresome, labour-intensive process, taking up most of an afternoon.  To speed things up he sometimes invited me along to help stuff the envelopes and generally assist with admin. This is the story of one such visit we made in September 1970. 

Lifetime single - One Word

I wasn’t really a soul / funk music fan at that time, I must confess, much preferring the heavy blues of Cream, Hendrix and Zeppelin. But I thoroughly enjoyed these trips, mainly because we always came away with plenty of free vinyl.  Like many of my generation, I lived for records and almost every waking minute was devoted to the acquisition of albums. But as a poverty-stricken teenager on minimum wage, my obsession far exceeded any available cash. So, whenever there was the slightest chance of getting records cheap, or better still, for free, I was there like a shot.  

Derek & the Dominos withdrawn single - Tell The Truth

At that time the Polydor offices occupied several floors of Swan House on Stratford Place, an elegant Georgian cul-de-sac just off Oxford Street.

Although almost directly opposite Bond Street tube station and a stone’s throw from the original HMV shop, Stratford Place is something of a backwater, isolated from the incessant noise of West End traffic.  Like the other major labels, Polydor was booming at the time and in every office and alcove, desks were piled high with promotional records, DJ mail-outs, posters, shop displays and the general clutter of music related paraphernalia. There was stuff everywhere. It was like an Aladdin's cave. We always timed our visits close to midday when we knew most of the staff would be out at lunch and the place was quiet, giving us free run of the building for an hour or two.  

Alongside records by current Polydor chart acts such as the Bee Gees and the New Seekers (in which I had little interest) there were all manner of rare and obscure items guaranteed to make the pulse race.  Here were a dozen copies of Rory Gallagher's “Sinner Boy”, a promo-only three-track single from his forthcoming debut solo album. Over there was a box of “One Word”, an unfeasibly scarce 45 by Tony Williams' Lifetime, featuring Jack Bruce and John McLaughlin.  On the floor under a desk I almost tripped over a carton of Eric Clapton’s Derek and the Dominos single “Tell The Truth”, the Phil Spector-produced fast version which was immediately withdrawn after release and would soon rocket in value. I held up a copy of the Dominos’ 45 to attract Charlie’s attention. “Help yourself!” he mouthed over the clank and wheeze of the Gestetner before returning to the task in hand.  Might as well take the whole box, in that case, I reasoned.

I’d known Charlie for a few years since we worked together at a Soho music publisher and although we were very different in background and temperament, it was impossible to dislike him.  A Londoner born and bred, from Walthamstow via Chingford to be exact, he was a lovable rogue with an eye for the main chance. With his barrow boy mentality, he never missed an opportunity to earn a few quid even if it meant sailing close to the wind, legally speaking.  He once sold me a car on which he still owed money to the finance company, causing all kinds of grief when I came to resell it. "Oh, yeah. Perhaps I should have mentioned that" was his only defence when challenged.

James Brown - Get Up I Feel Like Being A Sex Machine (Pt1)

In the mid-70s Charlie ran a record stall in Brick Lane market where his cockney bravado and gift of the gab helped him out of more than a few sticky situations, especially when he was caught selling bootlegs and other unauthorised gear, some of it fresh off the back of a lorry, I shouldn’t wonder.

But we didn’t think of this as stealing.  Goodness me, no. As unofficial (albeit temporary) Polydor workers we naturally assumed we had tacit approval to take a few records home with us and early 70s record company largesse meant it was just a perk of the job as far as we were concerned.  Anyway, most of the records we liberated were promos, which would soon be given away free to radio stations and music papers. That’s what we told ourselves, anyway.

Rory Gallagher - It's You / Just The Smile / Sinner Boy - Promo

The fan club work continued apace as we helped ourselves to whatever records we fancied during breaks.  I remember finding a US single of “Love Like A Man” by Ten Years After with a different B-side to the UK pressing. There was a brief, golden period in the early 70s when so-called underground bands such as Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Atomic Rooster and Jethro Tull regularly troubled the British singles charts and the Ten Years After 45 had been a surprise top ten hit only a few weeks previously. "Love Like A Man" was on the Deram label, so who knows what it was doing at Polydor, but we nabbed it anyway. Then I saw it: a white label LP in a plain cover.  Written on the sleeve in pencil it said, simply, “Thunderclap Newman – Hollywood Dream”.  “This is the band who did “Something In The Air”, isn’t it?” I said, referring to the big hit of June 1969 which had deposed the Beatles’ “The Ballad of John and Yoko” at the top of the charts.  It was seemingly a test pressing of their forthcoming LP, of which I knew nothing. “Stick it in the bag!” repeated Charlie, without even looking up from his work. Finally, our task was complete and, in between filling hundreds of envelopes and cranking the Gestetner, I could see we had amassed a decent pile of vinyl.  It had been a productive afternoon’s work.  We deposited the James Brown fan club letters in the Polydor mailroom and with Charlie bidding a cheery (not to say cheeky) farewell to the uniformed doorman (who didn’t check our bags, thankfully), we left Swan House weighed down but pleased with our monthly haul of illicit records.

Over the following weeks the Thunderclap Newman LP bothered me, however.  The white sleeve contained absolutely no recording details or even a track listing and in those pre-internet days it was near-impossible to get such information ahead of release. It seemed unfinished and I resolved to secure a proper cover.  As luck would have it I worked in Old Compton Street at the time, just a stone's throw from the Soho offices of the band’s label, Track Records. 

Track was formed in late 1966 by the Who’s managers Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp. The label's two biggest money-spinners by far were Jimi Hendrix and the Who, but they also had several smaller, yet no less interesting, names on the roster such as John’s Children (featuring Marc Bolan), The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, Marsha Hunt and recent Pete Townshend protégés Thunderclap Newman. In fact, it was Arthur Brown who gave Track their first number one hit in August 1968 with his single "Fire", while Thunderclap Newman provided the label's second chart topper with "Something In The Air". Their hip credentials received a boost when, in late 1968, Track agreed to distribute John & Yoko's Two Virgins Apple LP, after EMI had flatly refused to handle the nude sleeve photo. All Track releases were, in turn, wholly distributed by Polydor, however, which explains why I'd found the white label LP there. So, one lunchtime a few days later, I breezed into the Track reception at 58 Old Compton Street as bold as you like and asked if they had any spare sleeves for Hollywood Dream (you could do that kind of thing in those days).  “Hang on a minute” said the bored receptionist, as she flipped a switch and said something I didn’t catch into the intercom.  A few minutes later a young man came bounding down the stairs two at a time. Fashionably dressed in a flowery shirt, corduroy jeans and longish hair, he looked every inch the young record company executive. “I hear you've got a copy of the Thunderclap Newman LP” he said, eyeing me quizzically.  “Yeah, that’s right” I answered cheerily, “But the thing is, I don't have a sleeve, see?” “Well, that’s strange”, he fired back. “The record is not actually released until next Friday [October 2, 1970 to be exact], so perhaps you can explain how you have a copy already?”

Melody Maker May 1969

This was awkward. I clearly hadn't thought my plan through.  “Ah, well, I have a mate who, er, works at Polydor, you see, and he gave me his copy” I blustered, thinking on my feet.  I figured it was close enough to the truth to be plausible. After a long pause followed by a few more probing questions, he bought the story, saying “OK, come back next week and we’ll give you a cover”.  Then he turned and ran back up the stairs.

I later discovered I'd been speaking with none other than Vernon Brewer, the famous Track Records promotions manager. Sure enough, Vernon was true to his word and a week later, a complimentary gatefold sleeve, packed with photos, recording information and that all-important track listing, was waiting for me in reception.  Finally, the package was complete and what a great, unassuming record it was. Every track was a joy. From the ten-minute version of “Accidents” (possibly the only pop song in history to warn of the dangers of train spotting) to the unreleased Bob Dylan number “Open the Door, Homer”, via every strange piano interlude, guitar instrumental and quirky pop/psych gem along the way. I loved it all.  And underpinning everything was “Something In The Air” the gently euphoric worldwide number one hit single, soon to become a timeless and indestructible staple of 1960s classic rock radio.  

Originally titled "Revolution", it was renamed "Something In The Air" to avoid confusion with the Beatles' track of the same name. The song’s unashamed call for civil insurrection, including the line “Hand out the arms and ammo”, was completely at odds with its lilting melody, soothing two chord progression (E major to F♯ minor, just like Fleetwood Mac’s “Albatross”) subtle key changes and mellow string arrangement.  Deceptively simple in structure, “Something In The Air” was far greater than the sum of its parts.

 Sheet music

Thunderclap Newman was assembled in late 1968 to showcase the piano playing of Andy Newman and the song writing talent of Speedy Keen.  Pete Townshend had been an admirer of Newman’s unusual piano style since they were at art school together (see below). Speedy was Townshend’s driver and erstwhile flatmate who wrote “Armenia City in the Sky”, the opening track on the album The Who Sell Out. His quirky songs and reedy falsetto vocals suited the Thunderclap Newman sound perfectly.  

Guitar prodigy Jimmy McCulloch was only 14 or 15 when he joined the band but already played like a veteran, contributing some unexpectedly tough blues lead guitar to the album.  He and Andy Newman met for the first time on the day “Something In The Air” was demoed in early 1969. After Thunderclap Newman folded. Jimmy worked with around a dozen bands, including John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and fellow Scots Stone the Crows.  Most notably he played lead guitar in Paul McCartney’s Wings between 1974-77 before his untimely death at age 26 in 1979.

Reinforcing it all was the piano work of Andy “Thunderclap” Newman himself.  A former GPO telephone engineer, Newman played an incongruous mix of honky-tonk and Bix Beiderbecke style boogie-woogie and his jazzy solos were shoehorned into almost every song.  This became the band’s trademark, whereby each tune would change key / tempo and veer off at a tangent to allow the piano interlude to happen. It was a strange and wondrous thing to behold, although I’m sure it put off as many casual listeners as it attracted.

Thunderclap Newman with Pete Townshend

Pete Townshend produced the album, arranged the strings and played bass under the name “Bijou Drains”.  Speedy Keen is credited with drums on the LP, while Jimmy McCulloch’s brother Jack (co-writer of the Hollywood Dream instrumental title track) occupied the kit for live performances.  Jim Pitman-Avery was also brought in on bass for stage work. Even within the band, recollections vary regarding the amount of concerts they actually played. Some say it was a mere handful of live dates, while others claim they completed a full tour.

Record Mirror May 1969

After just the one album and four singles, Thunderclap Newman broke up in April 1971. Hollywood Dream was a sales flop in Britain and the band narrowly escaped the dreaded one-hit wonder tag when a short version of “Accidents”, the follow-up to “Something In The Air”, scraped into the UK top 50 in June 1970, peaking at #46.

Meanwhile, “Something In The Air” took on a life of its own.  The song has appeared in countless movies, television programmes and adverts, usually whenever a 60s mood is required.  It has been covered by many artists including Labelle, Herbie Mann, Eurythmics, Fish (ex-Marillion), The Lightning Seeds, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and The Dukes of September (featuring Donald Fagen, Boz Scaggs and Michael McDonald).  Today, turn on any classic rock radio station anywhere in the world and the chances are you’ll hear “Something In The Air” within the hour.

1973 US reissue of Hollywood Dream used a different sleeve

I treasured the album for decades until the CD era dawned and Hollywood Dream became available with pristine sound and bonus tracks (albeit with a different running order to the original LP).  Without a moment’s hesitation or regret I sold the white label copy for around £50 on eBay.  I’d already traded most of the Derek and the Dominos withdrawn singles years earlier for a pound each at the record stall in Kensington Market and after both tracks became available on Eric Clapton’s Crossroads box set, the rest went to eBay as well.  The rare Dominos’ single now sells for around 50 times the amount I got for them but, hey, you win some and you lose some.  But Hollywood Dream remains a favourite album and occasionally gets pulled out for a spin to this day.  So, thank you Polydor and thank you to Vernon Brewer at Track Records. But most of all, thank you Charlie, wherever you are today.

Pete Townshend speaking about Andy "Thunderclap" Newman in a 1970 promo interview for the Hollywood Dream album

“The first time I met Andy Newman I was at art school.  Everywhere I went in the college one day, there were posters saying ‘Thunderclap Newman plays today’.  So, we all thought Thunderclap Newman must be an obsolete jazz star. So, we collect in the theatre and waited.  And out of the corner of my eye I see this peculiar guy with… the first image I got was his shape, which was a bit like a turnip. And he gets on the piano and starts to play, and as his fingers starts to tinkle, you know, I mean the magic mood that just sifted through.  After the theatre appearance he disappeared, and then friends and I used to get hold of tapes of his and listen to them, and completely worship him from afar.

I remember the second time I met him we saw him in the street, my mate and me, we saw him walking in the street, looking in the gutter at things, and stopping and taking off his glasses and looking at something here and something there, and stroking his beard, and walking on a bit.  And we were following him going ‘Blimey! It’s him! It’s Thunderclap Newman!’ Like a couple of teeny boppers. And just as we were about to scream and ask for his autograph, he got on a bus and disappeared. Andy is a complete farce, he’s a walking farce. Just the sight of him makes me laugh sometimes. Although I’m getting used to him now. His music though, I never laugh at that. I mean if I do laugh, it’s laughter of someone who is hysterically happy.  His music is just completely… I feel that it’s partly mine. And I think a lot of people get that feeling.” 

One of the many Basement Tapes acetates. "Open The Door, Homer" often
erroneously appeared as "Open The Door, Richard"

Part Two: The Basement Tapes Connection

Quite how Thunderclap Newman, a little-known band with only one hit single under their belts came to be awarded that most valuable of pop music prizes, an unreleased Bob Dylan song, is part of a much bigger story and deserves further explanation here.  

Considering Dylan was semi-retired following his motorcycle accident and out of the public eye for much of 1967, his songs were everywhere.  A collection of over 100 tracks recorded informally on borrowed equipment with the Hawks (soon to become The Band) between March and September of 1967 at Big Pink, the house they shared in Woodstock, were copyrighted by Dylan’s US publisher Dwarf Music. These lo-fi amateur recordings became known as the Basement Tapes.

In late 1967, a 14-track acetate disc of the strongest songs, compiled by Hawks’ keyboardist Garth Hudson, was circulated among publishers in London and New York with a view to finding artists who might want to record them.  

Dylan himself wasn’t especially precious about the material, admitting to Rolling Stone editor Kurt Loder in 1984 “They were just songs we had done for the publishing company for other artists to record those songs.  I wouldn’t have put them out.”

Bob may not have wanted the songs released, but other people had very different ideas, none of which involved copyright royalties or other legal niceties.  Around 50 tracks were swiftly bootlegged, appearing on famous titles such as Great White Wonder from June 1969 and regarded as the first notable rock bootleg album.  A flood of similar unauthorised releases followed until, in June 1975, CBS/Columbia felt duty-bound to officially issue The Basement Tapes album containing 24 of the original 1967 tracks.

The songs on Hudson’s 14-track acetate were: "Million Dollar Bash", "Yea! Heavy and a Bottle of Bread", "Please, Mrs. Henry", "Down in the Flood", "Lo and Behold", "Tiny Montgomery", "This Wheel's on Fire", "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere", "I Shall Be Released", "Tears of Rage", "Too Much of Nothing", "The Mighty Quinn", "Open the Door, Homer" and "Nothing Was Delivered”.

Bob Dylan's Great White Wonder - The first rock bootleg?

Here is a brief account of what happened to some of those songs. 

Peter, Paul and Mary, managed by Dylan’s then-manager Albert Grossman, had the first hit with a Basement Tapes song when their cover of “Too Much of Nothing” reached number 35 on the Billboard chart in November 1967.  PP&M also recorded “I Shall Be Released” around the same time and both songs were included on their 1968 album Late Again.

In January 1968, Manfred Mann (a serial Dylan covers band) reached number one on the UK charts with a version of “The Mighty Quinn”, while in April “This Wheel’s on Fire”, recorded by Julie Driscoll, Brian Auger and the Trinity, hit #5 in Britain.  At the last count “This Wheel’s on Fire” had been covered around 30 times by artists as diverse as Mountain and Kylie Minogue.

Also in April 1968 “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” was a minor UK/US hit for the Byrds.  Along with “Nothing Was Delivered” it appeared on their August 1968 watershed country rock album Sweetheart of the Rodeo.  UK beat merchants Unit 4 + 2 also released “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” as a single during 1968. 

In May 1968 Boz Burrell, later of King Crimson and Bad Company, recorded “I Shall Be Released” and “Down In The Flood” as both sides of a single under the name “Boz”.  The backing musicians on the record included Ritchie Blackmore, Nick Simper and Jon Lord of the newly formed Deep Purple, plus bassist Chas Hodges, later with Chas and Dave. The B-side appeared incorrectly spelled as “Dove In The Flood”.  

UK psych/prog outfit Spooky Tooth included “Too Much Of Nothing” on their June 1968 Island debut It’s All About.  Two years later another Island band Fotheringay, fronted by Sandy Denny, recorded the song for their 1970 self-titled debut album.  

Ian & Sylvia, another of Albert Grossman’s folk acts, recorded “Tears of Rage”, “The Mighty Quinn” and “This Wheel’s On Fire” on two 1968 albums Nashville and Full Circle.

Still in 1968, bluegrass pickers Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs recorded “Down In The Flood” on their album Changin’ Times.

The Hawks, by now re-named renamed The Band, tackled “This Wheel’s on Fire”, “I Shall Be Released” and “Tears of Rage” for their debut album, Music from Big Pink, released in July 1968.  Joan Baez also covered “Tears Of Rage” and “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” on her 1968 LP of Dylan songs Any Day Now.

Little-known LA band Stone Country covered “Million Dollar Bash” in 1968, while Fairport Convention recorded it on their 1969 Island album Unhalfbricking.  Disgraced producer/singer/entrepreneur Jonathan King also released the song as a Decca single in 1970.  

In October 1970, ace guitarist Chris Spedding recorded the first known cover version of “Please, Mrs Henry” on his Harvest album Backwood Progression.

Along with Thunderclap Newman, several other artists covered “Open The Door, Homer”, including John Walker of the Walker Brothers who recorded it as the B-side of his 1968 solo single “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight”, a Dylan song from the John Wesley Harding album.  

Trials and Tribulations covered "Please, Mrs Henry" and "Open the Door, Homer" on their 1970 self-titled Vanguard LP. They also recorded an early Robbie Robertson song "Stones That I Throw."

Within three years, 11 of the 14 tracks on Garth Hudson’s acetate had been covered by dozens of different artists.  Not a bad average for a bunch of orphan songs Dylan originally had little interest in. Since then, the total number of individual Basement Tapes covers has reached at least 300, with the anthemic “I Shall Be Released” leading the pack by a long way with over 150 English language versions alone, including recordings by Joe Cocker, the Box Tops, the Hollies and the Tremeloes.

The complete Basement Tapes box set was finally released in 2014

So, how did Thunderclap Newman come to record “Open The Door, Homer”?  Their connection to Pete Townshend may have had something to do with it.  It’s known that several big rock names. including George Harrison, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix and Neil Young, had copies of the basement tapes material in 1968, long before they were widely bootlegged.  So maybe Pete also had access to them and earmarked the song for his new band. Alternatively, the songs were freely circulating among Denmark Street publishers at the time, seemingly up for grabs by anyone with the right credentials and/or with a savvy agent/manager behind them. 

In memory of Thunderclap Newman:

James "Jimmy" McCulloch - 4 June 1953 – 27 September 1979

John "Speedy" Keen - 29 March 1945 – 12 March 2002

Andy "Thunderclap" Newman - 21 November 1942 - 29 March 2016

Budgie - Not Your Ordinary Inflight Entertainment

By Mikey G

Even as a kid I loved power trios. Jimi Hendrix, ZZ Top, Cream, Grand Funk and The Robin Trower Band, to name a few, are all great outfits. I’ve tried to work out what it is that makes them appeal to my ears more than other band configurations, and I think it just boils down to the fact that for obvious reasons, the rhythm section and particularly the bass player, has to work that little bit harder to keep the songs driving along during the solos and when any progressive changes are explored.

However, above all those I’ve credited here, there is one, for me at any rate, who took it to a very different level indeed. This was Budgie, a three piece from the southern valleys of Wales. They formed in 1967, not as many would imagine as a result of having witnessed Hendrix or Cream, but as the band's vocalist, bassist and frontman Burke Shelley explained, it was a result of seeing another local Welsh trio Love Sculpture, featuring legendary guitarist Dave Edmunds. Love Sculpture played in and around the Cardiff area, doling out heavy treatments to blues standards as was often the case as some bands tried to break out of the strict 12-Bar blues form, so popular at the time. “They were the best band you have ever seen in your life and they were only a three- piece” Burke told a biographer writing about the many rock acts who had worked in the now legendary Rockfield studios, where Budgie ended up recording a lot of their best work.

Their self-titled first album, released in 1971 and produced by Rodger Bain, who also produced the earliest albums by Black Sabbath & Judas Priest, is not as dynamic as say Led Zeppelin's debut or as dark as Black Sabbath's first offering but it definitely has its very own heaviness going on. A Rodger Bain interview on the sleeve notes to a vinyl best of Budgie compilation Suicidal Homicidal back in 1985, best describes the scene.  “I first saw Budgie when Kingsley Ward, the mastermind behind Rockfield Studios, arranged for Burke and the lads to audition in his studio. I had just completed some heavy recording sessions with 'The Earth Blues Band' who were later to change their name to Black Sabbath, and Kingsley thought I would be interested in hearing the Welsh answer to 'The Birmingham Bashers'. Kingsley was quite right, I was. Apparently, the band had never met a "Record Producer" before, and expected me to arrive in a white Rolls Royce, smoking a foot long cigar and wearing a nine carat gold knuckle duster! When they were told that their roadies had to meet me off the train at Gloucester station, they were quite relieved. I knew straight away I wanted to work with this band, and we agreed there and then to record the first album, despite the fact that it was now the middle of winter and the snow lay two feet deep around the Welsh studio. Every playback was preceded by a fight for the best place in front of the parrafin stove, in fact Burke wore woolen gloves for most of the takes (so that is the secret of his heavy bass sound!)”

*Rodger Bain - minus Rolls Royce

The album itself kicks off with the very chunky riffed “Guts”. In fact those left wanting more after Black Sabbath, would have been blown away by this tune, it almost feels like a precursor to the Sabs' almighty “Sweet Leaf”. I have to add at this point, the album as a whole is nothing like anything by Sabbath. There’s much more bass and guitar interplay, which gives some songs a progressive feel and there’s a humorous element throughout, that comes to the fore in the amazingly entitled “Nude Disintegrating Parachutist Woman” , check out the manic guitar and vocal harmonies in there. Then there’s the brutal “Homicidal Suicidal”, picked up 30 years later by Soundgarden. It’s almost like a prototype grunge tune. Who would’ve known? The projected influences all over this album are hard to deny. The use of a couple of lighter acoustic numbers between the bigger power tracks is used to this day by the mainstream metal acts. In America the original LP also featured another song meekly titled “Crash Course In Brain Surgery”, it was a single in the UK but disappeared without trace until a few years later when it turned up on the bands 4th album In For The Kill.  For a long time Lars Ulrich, drummer for America's biggest metal band, Metallica, had enthused about the virtues of Budgie, which resulted with the song eventually ending up on the bands highly regarded and collectable $5.98 Garage Days Revisited vinyl EP in 1987. Which was upgraded 11 years later to a full length album where they also covered the Budgie classic “Breadfan” from Never Turn Your Back On A Friend.

It’s probably fair to say that this spirited opening didn’t set the charts alight but by all accounts it sold steadily, and through intensive gigging with the likes of Mott The Hoople, Thin Lizzy and Deep Purple offshoot Warhorse, they started to pick up a loyal following. With their second album Squawk, released in 1972, they consolidated the approach of mixing lightweight melodies in amongst some blistering riff work by wonder guitarist Tony Bourge. The stand out being the aptly titled “Hot As A Dockers Armpit”. Wrapped, almost amusingly, in a Roger Dean cover, depicting a skeletal bird of prey morphed into a jet fighter, Squawk certainly looked like the band were going places. Each track showed an enriched approach to song structure and studio technique but the overall sound of the album was dragged down by a very thin sound mix, particularly the drumming. Drummer Ray Phillips always bemoaned the fact that even after a quick remix of the album, where a slight improvement was made, time and money factors pushed them back out onto the road. It may have hindered some of their sales momentum but it was certified Gold for over half a million copies sold in the US alone the following year.

*The Original Line Up - Ray, Tony & Burke

After more work out on the road across Europe, often doubling up with the similarly hard working Judas Priest, Budgie hatched their third album in June 1973 Never Turn Your Back On A Friend, which contained probably their finest and best known barnstormer “Breadfan”. Self produced, the album showed a real maturity, both in sound and song craft, switching from solid grooved riffs to driving acoustic sections, and even dabbling with a dramatic ballad of sorts on the atmospheric “Parents”. It also has its fair share of zany titles "You're the Biggest Thing Since Powdered Milk” and the often amusingly recounted by devotees and press alike, "In the Grip of a Tyrefitter's Hand". Both of these tracks, and the aforementioned “Breadfan”, became fan favourites and were included in live setlists throughout the band's 40 year career.

* Never Turn Your Back On A Friend - the lavish Rodger Dean cover.

I have spent many an earnest hour or two with friends and fans debating why Budgie never really hit the commercial heights of their contemporaries Sabbath and Priest. I even asked Burke Shelley after a very sweaty set played in a tiny bar in Milton Keynes, back in May 2002. His answer was simply that MCA, their record label at a critical time in their development, never really knew how to take the band to the next level. A couple of ads in the music press per album, doesn’t make for a glittering launch to any album, not even in the early seventies. I personally feel that the band name didn’t help, it belittled the content of some of the heaviest albums ever made and wasn’t cool enough for the hipsters to carry around school, as we were apt to do in those days. I made many judgements and friends based on the record sleeves I could see around the playground. There were even a few folks who pegged them as a "Welsh Rush" when those Canucks came to prominence in the mid seventies. I couldn't really get the similarity myself but there's no denying Burke Shelley and Geddy Lee play great bass and both sing in the upper ranges of metal's vocal spectrum.

*Budgie 1974 - Burke & Tony with long serving drummer Steve Williams

Budgie carried on producing some great albums throughout the seventies and eighties, In For The Kill  in 1974 and the excellent Bandolier in 1975 followed, with powerful and original tunes all over them. They even had a really good crack at America while touring behind 1978’s slick Impeckable offering, having augmented their sound to two guitarists for the previous album, the patchy but innovative If I Were Brittania I'd Waive the Rules. Both albums were released on their new label, A&M records. The lack of funds and support proved too much for guitarist and founder Tony Bourge, who called it a day at that point. Burke Shelley pushed on undeterred, going through some commendable guitarists before the band finally found solid writing and riff work from “Big” John Thomas who’d previously plied his trade with the George Hatcher Band. They made a stunning album in 1980, Power Supply, its timely arrival saw them in the mix, unbelievably, to benefit from the “New Wave of British Heavy Metal” movement, a complete career resurgence complemented with, as the metal press called it at the time, "heroes’ return" performances at the 1980 and 1982 Reading Rock Festival, where they also played tracks from 1981’s popular Nightflight album. The live broadcasts recorded at these shows were played on Tommy Vance's Friday Rock Show and finally highlights of both shows found their way onto a licensed live double CD package called We Came, We Saw.. released in 1998.
The early 80s activity even saw the band guest on Ozzy Osbourne's Blizzard of Ozz tour. 

One more major label release on RCA in 1982, Deliver Us From Evil even featured a keyboard player but its attempted step on to the more commercial radio friendly rock platform, popular at the time, was not a fan favourite, although it kept the band gigging and even finding themselves with a huge following in Eastern Europe. They gigged fairly solidly right up to 1988 with the same line-up, before a 12 year hiatus and an eventual reunion in the 2000’s using a variety of guitarists. I caught them many times and was never less than inspired by the band. Burke was always full on, ensuring everything was as tight as it could be.

From 2004 until the end of the decade most of the albums I mention here underwent a thorough and valid CD reissue programme. With all tracks remastered and overseen by band members, who also contributed new sleeve notes etc. If you like early Sabbath or Priest but never really explored the Budgie albums of the time, I promise you won’t be disappointed. 

*That long lost 7" single

  

  

Paul McCartney: The Biography by Philip Norman - Book Review

reviewed by Stuart Penney

Soufflé-speak.  I don’t know if Philip Norman coined that expression himself, but it crops up countless times in his latest book.  It refers to Paul McCartney’s ability to charm his way through an interview with seemingly frank and friendly answers, while remaining unfailingly diplomatic and giving away very little of value.  Thankfully, Norman digs much deeper than Paul’s soufflé-speak to come up with one of the most searching and readable McCartney biographies in a long time.  

Philip Norman has been here before of course, authoring acclaimed books about the Beatles, Stones, Jagger, Lennon and others.  But it was his most famous work, the 1981 million-seller Shout which very nearly scuppered this entire project.  Written during the nostalgic tsunami following the death of John Lennon, it painted an overgenerous view of the man who, Norman claimed, represented “three quarters of The Beatles”.  Shout presented a clichéd picture of John the acerbic rocker vs Paul the ballad-writing family man.  Some snarky “granny music” quotes from Yoko didn’t help matters, either.  Understandably, this didn’t go down at all well at McCartney HQ. It took some doing, but Norman eventually received tacit approval to write this book, (“tacit” meaning that he received assistance with sources and information, but there was no direct involvement).  

I don’t know about you, but I never get tired of re-visiting what is, to scholars of popular culture, at least, the Greatest Story Ever Told.  Since 1963 it seems like I’ve read a thousand books about the Beatles, but, like all the best addictions there will always be an excuse for just one more.  Skilfully written and highly readable, the story treads familiar ground until the 1970 break-up, when it shifts up a gear as we enter the solo years and Norman no longer must juggle four equally weighty life stories.  

The immediate post-split legal shenanigans were comprehensively detailed in Peter Doggett’s excellent book You Never Give Me Your Money, but Norman’s lighter touch is more entertaining and the narrative builds nicely as each new character enters the picture, culminating with the arrival of manager Allen Klein as the archetype pantomime villain.  

This story is so familiar, we can predict almost every word of what’s coming next, so it’s refreshing when Norman presents new information, as he does from time to time.  We learn that Paul no longer owns his famous Scottish farms on the Mull of Kintyre, for example. The inspiration for so many McCartney songs over the years, the properties were recently sold and the two farm managers with 55 years’ service between them were dismissed, with one caretaker given just three months’ notice to vacate his grace and favour house.

Paul’s first wife Linda is portrayed as a saintly figure throughout and the couple clearly had a strong, loving relationship.  When she is offered a ghost-written book deal of her own, however, Macca, we are told, nixes it, snapping, “There's only one fucking star in this family.”  Likewise, the news that, in 2006, Paul’s brother Mike was charged with (and subsequently acquitted of) sexual assault provides an interesting diversion, as does the coverage of Paul’s recent heart scare and subsequent hospital treatment. 

It’s not all plain sailing, however.  Paul’s 1984 movie disaster Give My Regards To Broad Street receives full, no holds-barred coverage, as does the 9 days he spent in a Tokyo jail cell on a drug smuggling charge.  But it’s the Heather Mills chapters we’ve been waiting for and Norman doesn’t hold back. “Salacious” doesn’t begin to cover it as we are given an 80 page blow-by-blow account of the doomed marriage and subsequent £20 million divorce settlement, described by one lawyer as “legal Armageddon”.  It’s unseemly, often embarrassing and casts a dark cloud over much that has gone before.  Yet, like a car crash, we simply can’t look away. Not for the first time, the question arises: “what on earth was Paul thinking?”.  In a Q magazine interview not long after the annulment McCartney was asked if the marriage to Heather was the biggest mistake of his life.  With the soufflé-speak dialled up to eleven he replied “It would have to be up there”.  

It’s worth noting that I experienced this biography on two platforms.  After reading the physical hardback book, I went back to the beginning and listened to the 30-hour audiobook version during my daily commute.  Narrator Jonathan Keeble brings the audiobook to life with a range of accents, including all four Beatles, Linda, Yoko and even a delightfully cartoon-like Heather Mills, complete with her trademark Geordie glottal stop.

I’m a stickler for mistakes in rock biographies and while this one is generally well researched, the pedants among us will bristle at a few of the more contentious claims.  Wings were certainly not a glam rock band, as Norman declares; the Sex Pistols single “God Save the Queen” can hardly be described as “a shrieking parody of the (British) national anthem” and Kate Bush’s vocal on “Wuthering Heights” mercifully bears little similarity to Yoko’s infamous wailing, as the book states.  But otherwise I’m pleased to say I found only a solitary factual error throughout the entire book. Denny Laine’s post-Moody Blues/pre-Wings outfit the Electric String Band is referred to, unforgivably, as the Incredible String Band, the Scottish acid folk outfit.  This howler is found in the audiobook version only, however, and not in the physical book. 

(published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson 2016)

Zappa Gear: Book Review

The Unique Guitars, Amplifiers, Effects Units, Keyboards and Studio Equipment of Frank Zappa

by Mick Ekers Published by Backbeat Books 2019 Hardcover, 233 pages

reviewed by Stuart Penney

First there was Beatles Gear, followed by Rolling Stones Gear and The Black Strat, the story of David Gilmour’s famous Fender. Now we have Zappa Gear. Do we see a trend developing here? In truth the market has been crying out for books of this nature and it’s good to see it finally developing into a legitimate genre. Although unconnected, all these titles share a common theme. Packed with insane amounts of forensic detail, they are a gearhead’s wet dream, yet should also appeal to fans of a less technical inclination who just like to look at beautiful pictures of famous and instantly recognisable guitars.

Zappa Gear (the lack of a possessive apostrophe “s” is deliberate, a last-minute suggestion by Ahmet Zappa) has endured a long and, at times, painful gestation. The foreword by Dweezil Zappa is dated July 2013 and the idea was first conceived way back in 2010. Ekers met with many delays and obstacles along the way, not least finding himself in the middle of a family feud when matriarch Gail Zappa and son Dweezil had a major falling-out, resulting in the family being split down the middle for some years. Both sides became firmly entrenched and the book, although almost finished, was put on hold after Gail became ill and sadly died in 2015. Finally, the siblings sorted out their differences to some degree and Mick emerged triumphant as the book finally appeared at the end of 2019.

Ekers’ trump card was gaining access to the equipment and instruments themselves. He was twice invited to the Zappa house in the Hollywood Hills (since sold to Lady Gaga) and allowed to ask questions, take notes, handle and photograph the precious items contained within Frank’s studio, the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen (UMRK). Importantly, the project was also given the Zappa Family Trust (ZFT) seal of approval by Gail herself. 

The main appeal of this book is, of course, Frank’s guitars, but that only takes up 80 of the 230+ pages. Also covered in precise and painstaking detail are the various amplifiers, effects, keyboards and drums Zappa used to make his music. Where possible Ekers has included a footnote detailing which album or song each instrument or piece of equipment was used on. A nice touch and a very useful addition to the text.

Pride of place on the cover goes to two of Frank’s most famous guitars: The Baby Snakes Gibson SG and cherry sunburst Gibson Les Paul. Both instruments have a fascinating backstory, especially the highly modified SG which was built/restored by a fan and sold to Frank at a concert in Phoenix, Arizona. The Les Paul is instantly recognisable from the Shut Up ‘n Play Yer Guitar box set and it was FZ's main guitar in the early 80s. Unlike the bespoke SG it was bought new, off the shelf from a Los Angeles guitar chain store, but like so many of Frank’s instruments it underwent serious modification.

When it came to his guitars, Zappa cared little for originality or collectability. Despite numerous pick-up changes and electronic modifications, the Les Paul survived relatively unscathed cosmetically. But earlier, more valuable, instruments were hacked, carved, routed and mutilated to give FZ the sounds he was looking for. I’m thinking specifically here of Frank’s 1960 Gibson ES-5 Switchmaster, an extremely rare and valuable instrument which was used on Freak Out and the other early Mothers’ Verve albums. But you’ll have to read the book to find out what fate befell that particular guitar.

The guitar chapters will undoubtedly be the most eagerly read part of the book, but I enjoyed it all. From Frank’s impressive collection of vintage Marshall amplifiers, to his infamous and (at the time) controversial Synclavier, via a Hammond B3, Moogs, Minimoogs, Fender Rhodes electric piano and even a kazoo(!) (the latter was heard on The Lost Episodes album, in case you were wondering), it’s all grist to the Zappa mill. Mick Ekers has done a sterling job pulling all this information together and the presentation is excellent throughout, featuring over 180 unique photographs taken by the author at the UMRK. Also included are interviews and quotes from pivotal Zappa band musicians such as Arthur Barrow, Tommy Mars and Ruth Underwood.

Unsurprisingly, Zappa Gear won’t sell nearly as many copies as Beatles Gear or Rolling Stones Gear, (pretty much like Frank’s records, in fact) but it is essential reading for even the most casual Zappa aficionado and deserves a place on every rock fan’s bookshelf.