Fortuitously #10

 

1979 was the year I got into buying and studying fanzines. That had a lot to do with Maximum Speed, the main mod publication, which that year was particularly high-profile and prolific. I recall a time when I should have been studying for my Mock O Levels but was sat reading Issue No. 9 of Maximum Speed instead. My copy is long-gone but one thing that stayed with me from that fanzine was a piece about a new group whose reference points were the Velvets and Television. For all sorts of reasons, I got to the stage where I figured I’d imagined it.

But no, I finally got round to researching this, thanks to the British Library, and sure enough there is mention (in what was the final issue) of The Afenders, supporting The Chords at Eric’s in Liverpool, who were “young, smart” and “surprisingly good.” The visiting Maximum Speed editors added: “It’s pretty obvious that their influences come from the Velvet Underground and they use guitar lines that could have been lifted off Television’s great Marquee Moon LP.” So, there you go. There’s hope for me yet.

I think one of the reasons this stayed filed away at the back of my mind was that, apart from challenging preconceptions, before another year had passed very similar words would be used about Josef K and Postcard records. Many years later the Marina label released a beautiful Josef K CD compilation called Endless Soul, and in Allan Campbell’s excellent liner notes my guitar hero Malcolm Ross is quoted as saying: “I was quite interested in the original Mod movement and that was one of the influences in wearing suits. We were forward looking.” That pleased me enormously and made perfect sense.

As well as the mention of The Afenders in an account of The Chords’ visit to Liverpool, elsewhere in the fanzine there is a paragraph giving more information on the group and expanding on how impressed the Maximum Speed editors were. Details of the line-up (and their ridiculously young ages, though it is easy to forget how young The Chords’ front three were!) are included, allowing one to follow clues and find out more. It seems, and forgive me if I get this horribly wrong, the group evolved into being The Last Chant, or maybe they always were, whose name seemed familiar for some reason. Apparently, at an early live show in Liverpool, they supported Another Pretty Face, and Mike Scott was so impressed he asked them to do a single for his Chicken Jazz label. This came out in the Autumn of 1981 with ‘Run of the Dove’ on the A-side.

It is an exceptional single, an epic one too in all senses, and I have no idea why I have not come across this 45 before now. Oh well, only 45 years late. I think it is fair to say it is not fully realised, and yet its rawness works in its favour. The guitar sound is incredible, very much my sort of thing, with suggestions of Subway Sect clang, early Velvets drone (enhanced by Cale-like violin) and a real Byrds / ‘And Your Bird Can Sing’ raga thing going on amid a fear it might all fall apart. It is wonderfully intense, and I can imagine those in the know speaking about it in reverent tones down all the days.

On the flipside ‘Tradition’ shows the group gloriously assimilating Fela-style Afrobeat influences with added wordless vocals. Mike Scott has since spoken about them having “a front line of three killer singers. When they sang together a crack opened in the sky.” That trio included guitarists Dave Dickie, who would shortly join Colin Vearncombe in Black, and Andrew Hussey who became an academic and historian specialising in all things French and whose books include biographies of Guy Debord and Isidore Isou.

If you look on YouTube Joe McKechnie has posted a live version of ‘Run of the Dove’ from early 1981 which is illustrated with old photos, some taken on the night in September 1979 when they supported The Chords at Eric’s. Again, I could be wrong. What did they look like in 1981? I have no idea. I do know Pete Wylie was a big fan of The Last Chant and on occasions invited them to support Wah!, including a date in July 1981 at Heaven underneath the arches near Charing Cross when the wonderful Send No Flowers were also on the bill: The Sound of Young Liverpool back then. And, yes, if you follow the clues you can hear all that early Last Chant live set which Joe has shared.

Incidentally, Paul Du Noyer favourably reviewed the Last Chant’s single in the NME: “A solemn mystery-enshrouded sound comes drifting down from the north. Last Chant’s music is powerfully imposing, without being pretentious. And I’d earnestly recommend you to seek it out.” I didn’t. But then I don’t recall seeing the review at the time. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with that.

Coincidentally or not, Paul’s name recently popped-up in another Liverpool-related context when he appeared in Violette Records’ Science & Magic newsletter. Responding to a question about what song he associates with a major world event or news story, he chose to talk about Bobby Goldsboro’s ‘Honey’ and how he was on a school trip and passing through Cork when news of Robert Kennedy’s assassination came through:

“On the mournful evening of that day we went to a cafe, where 'Honey' came on the juke box. It's a maudlin country song about a dead sweetheart, with sobbing strings, a heavenly choir and one gratuitous mention of a puppy. But guess what? All around me were silent grown-ups, having a deep moment. I will always respect Noel Coward's line about the potency of cheap music.”

Paul was talking about when the song was first a huge hit in the UK in 1968. For some reason, it also got to No. 2 in the UK charts in 1975. It’s a song I don’t have any strong opinions about. Plenty of people do. I quite like it, actually, but the problem I have with story songs is that after the first hearing there are very few surprises left in store. There was a time, though, when that sort of sentimental ballad was very popular. Characteristically I’m thinking of Pearl in Shena Mackay’s wonderful Redhill Rococo, erstwhile secretary of the Redhill chapter of the Andy Fairweather Low Fan Club, whose all-time top ten included ‘Old Shep’, ‘Honey’, and ‘Seasons in the Sun’.

A few things spring to mind when I think of Bobby Goldsboro. One is the improbability of a couple of Bobby’s recordings becoming Northern Soul favourites. I am sure there were purists who had a problem with the ‘Honey’ monster infiltrating their scene with his light, bright uptempo pop, but Bobby’s ‘Too Many People’ and ‘It’s Too Late’ are superb, smart soulful songs that get me moving my feet and nodding along approvingly.

Those in the know will tell you that you need to hear the right version of ‘Too Many People’ which is considerably more manic than the more often heard LP recording. And there’s a cracking cover of it by New Zealand’s Dinah Lee. Incidentally, am I the only one that conflates Bobby’s ‘Too Many People’ with the Strangeloves’ ‘Night Time’? Yeah, probably.

Another thing that springs to mind thinking of Bobby is my favourite pop writer Dave McCullough reviewing the singles for Sounds in early 1981 and characteristically enthusing about Aztec Camera’s ‘Just Like Gold’ and 23 Skidoo’s ‘Ethics’ and writing about being haunted by a new wave of teenage Bobby Goldsboros. I have never checked I am remembering this rightly. I do get things wrong. Such as? Such as that group with the Velvets and Television references in Maximum Speed: well, somehow over the years I convinced myself they were from Newcastle and I think I nurtured hopes their ranks featured a youthful Hughes or Handyside. Hey ho.

The other thing I associate with Bobby Goldsboro is Summertime. This is not surprising. In the Summer of 1973, he had a Top Ten hit in the UK with his song ‘Summer (The First Time)’ which, while being very familiar now, oddly I don’t remember at all from that time. I guess its ‘loss of innocence subject matter’, very much on the theme of the recent film Summer of ’42, wouldn’t have meant too much to me back then. I don’t know. I do know Millie Jackson redid the song spectacularly from a female perspective (like Margaret Lewis with ‘Honey’!) and that is quite something. Coincidentally or not, Bobby would later record a funky little number called ‘Me and Millie’ about kids on a date “stompin' grapes and gettin' silly drinking wine.” 

Then, oh yes, in the Summer of 1974 Bobby had another UK hit with ‘Hello Summertime’ which I recall vividly. I think it was that year I really started taking my pop music seriously. Ten is a good age for that. Things from that year have stayed with me. For example, I’ve carried a very clear memory of being on school holidays, a lovely sunny day, playing with friends down near a local river, a lost domain. I say river but it was little more than a stream.

I remember cycling home at lunchtime on my Raleigh Chopper and listening to the Johnny Walker show on Radio 1 and catching the chart rundown (normally I would be at school when this was on so would wait for Sunday evening and Tom Browne running down the Top 20 then). That week among the new entries in the Top 20 were ‘Judy Teen’ by Cockney Rebel and ‘Hey Rock and Roll’ by Showaddywaddy, and hearing them that lunchtime for the first time is something I will never forget. New names. New sounds. I felt dizzy with excitement and confusion, a potent blend. And I was worried years later that this was a false memory.

But, again, actually no, it was all real, and the charts right at the start of June 1974 bear this out, so I assume this would have been what we used to call the Whitsun Half Term break. Anyway, also in the chart that week were The Rubettes’ ‘Sugar Baby Love’, Sparks’ ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough For The Both Of Us’, Paper Lace’s ‘The Night Chicago Died’, the Bay City Rollers’ ‘Shang-A-Lang’, all songs I loved madly. Still do, I guess. And R. Dean Taylor’s ‘There’s A Ghost In My House’ was near the top too. Did I even realise it was an old song? Probably not. And probably didn’t care.

Then later that summer I have a memory of a big event at the cinema when the new Coca-Cola advert was to be aired. This was the ‘Hello Summertime’ one, sung by Bobby Goldsboro and created by the team of Roger Cook and Roger Greenaway. On the big screen it seemed so special. And, in its full-length glory, the song was a pretty big hit in the UK and I absolutely loved it. I still think it’s one of the great Summer songs, along with ones by Jonathan Richman and Mungo Jerry. Oddly, many years later, finally seeing the promo film for the Pale Fountains’ ‘Thank You’ (I mean, who was going to show that at the time, despite being No. 48 with a bullet?), I was very definitely reminded of that old Coke advert.

The Bobby Goldsboro one was not the only occasion the Cook & Greenaway team composed a classic jingle for Coke. I am pretty sure their most famous work was the one for the 1971 advertising campaign with kids from all around the world united (which sounds suspiciously like a Sham 69 song!) on an Italian hilltop singing about wanting to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. It is one of the most beautiful minutes in the history of broadcasting and should be shown daily to all the dumb-dumb patriots who only see their way and insist on having their say.

Oddly I have absolutely no recollection of seeing the commercial at the time. I do, however, fondly remember the New Seekers’ hit version topping the UK charts at the start of 1972. This may sound silly but I think this recording (and a couple of other hits by the group, ‘Beg, Steal or Borrow’ and ‘You Won’t Find Another Fool Like Me’) transcends taste and is so much a part of the make-up of those who grew up in the 1970s, at least in the UK. I feel the group captures something of that time: lots of lovely hair and smiles, the girls in Laura Ashley frocks and velvet chokers, the guys with huge-collared floral shirts and alarmingly tight trousers, and generally an air of genuinely nice people having fun, and we could do with more of that.

Ever since stumbling across the stunning promo film for the New Seekers singing their ‘Pinball Wizard / See Me Feel Me’ medley (hints of the 5^th Dimension there, I bet) earlier this year, I have been curious about the group. I am not about to start suggesting the New Seekers' catalogue contains a sizeable horde of buried treasure, but there are certainly some gems there and plenty of performances to surprise, such as excellent covers of the Fairports’ ‘No Man’s Land’, The Move’s ‘Blackberry Way’, Todd Rundgren’s ‘I Saw The Light’, Nilsson’s ‘One, Carole King’s ‘Child of Mine’, Neil Young’s ‘Dance Dance Dance’, and Harry Chapin’s ‘Circle’.

My particular favourite is ‘Come On World’ which is a Mike Hugg (of Manfred Mann and Likely Lads fame) composition not a million miles from Bacharach & David’s ‘What The World Needs Now’. And my goodness, the New Seekers really sing from the heart on this one. It is also a fascinating example of how the group’s sound evolved, from the early incarnation with their Mamas & Papas / 5^th Dimension roots to the classic line-up (Eve, Lyn, Peter, Paul & Marty) with something that’s hard to pin down but which seems to embrace a sort of lineage that takes in The Beatles’ ‘All You Need Is Love’, Hair, ‘Oh Happy Day’ and all those infernally infectious songs of praise, spirituals or hymns kids had to sing in morning assemblies or if they were sent to Sunday School.

I am thinking of things that have remained with some of us, unbidden, such as ‘Lord of the Dance’, ‘Morning Has Broken’, ‘Go Tell It On The Mountain’, ‘Kumbaya, My Lord’, ‘He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands’, ‘Fishers of Men’, ‘Joshua Fought The Battle of Jericho’, ‘Put Your Hand in the Hand’, ‘Give Me Oil In My Lamp’. And, oh the joy of finding The Byrds recorded the last one there, and Otis sang a little of ‘This Little Light of Mine’ didn’t he in his ‘Amen’?  Somehow sometimes the New Seekers tapped, consciously or not, into the ‘peace, love and understanding’ spirit of all that. Just have a listen to what they did with ‘Day By Day’ from Godspell. It’s enough to make a believer out of the hardest cynic.

Anyway, as a kid I thought Eve Graham was incredibly beautiful. I still do when I see old clips and pics. But strangely I had until recently never considered what she or her colleagues might have done before joining the New Seekers. It turns out Eve in the second half of the 1960s had been in a Manchester-based outfit called The Nocturnes whose name rang a vague bell amid the impossible clutter of my mind. Apparently the band was put together by drummer Ross Mitchell for the Mecca Leisure Organisation and became the resident group at the Tiffany’s nightclub in Manchester catering for the more upmarket pop fans of the day. Along the way Eve’s initial singing partner Sandra Stevens (later of Brotherhood of Man) was replaced by a teenage Lyn Paul, so that’s where the wonderful chemistry between the two began.

The group recorded a series of singles for Columbia, including a gorgeous spectral choral take on the Staples’ ‘Why (Am I Treated So Bad)’ and a couple of numbers from the Jimmy Webb songbook, ‘Carpet Man’ and ‘Montage’. An LP followed which showcases the group deep in close harmony, paisley pop territory, with a strong Mamas & Papas, 5th Dimension, Simon & Garfunkel flavour. They do, however, manage to sneak in a cover of Doris Troy’s ‘What’ Cha Gonna Do About It’.

A live LP followed which gives a greater sense of why they were so highly praised for their nightclub performances. The sweet, melodic, easy listening numbers are offset by some more raw and raucous soul and rhythm & blues covers with bass player Nicky Walker showing off his gritty, gruff soulful rasp on great versions of ‘Mr Pitiful’ and ‘What’d I Say’. He and Eve perform a showstopping punk rock Otis and Carla-style ‘Knock On Wood’, and Eve takes the lead on an extraordinarily stormy ‘River Deep Mountain High’ which may have had the clientele choking on their champagne and offers a taste of what kids were dancing to across town at the Twisted Wheel.

Indeed, there is a shadow history of The Nocturnes, a tale of what might have been, offered by unreleased recordings that presumably the record company executives baulked at, which have appeared on Acid Jazz’s Rare Mod series, namely the excellent trio of ‘Hay, That’s What Horses Eat’, ‘Night Owl’ (no, not that one!) and ‘Sunflower’. Ah the chances missed in life.

Meanwhile, over in Australia, several years before he was recruited for the New Seekers, Peter Doyle was a member of The Virgil Brothers, and there is a remarkable piece of film of the vocal trio in 1968 performing their first single, ‘Temptation’s ’Bout To Get Me’, looking suspiciously as though they’d recently been to see Joseph Losey’s Modesty Blaise. And yes, that is the Knight Brothers’ number, the original of which is for me one of the greatest recordings ever, and which with ‘I’m Never Gonna Live it Down’ and ‘Tried So Hard To Please Her’ forms a remarkable holy trinity of Deep Soul Treasures, as Dave Godin rightly recognised.

Fellow addicts of connectivity will appreciate that the Knight Brothers’ original of ‘Temptation’ was produced for Checker by Billy Davis who later left the Chess organisation to work in advertising where among the many things he will have done was adapt the jingles for ‘I’d Like To Teach The World To Sing’ and ‘Hello Summertime’ into full-blown pop songs. Meanwhile, the Virgil Brothers’ version of ‘Temptation’ was produced by David Mackay (not the Spurs and Derby hard man) who would become the New Seekers in-house producer in their heyday. Actually, that is one of the interesting things about the group: they might have been manufactured but they didn’t have a recognised production or songwriting team behind them, unlike many of the big names in the 1970s.

Watching that Virgil Brothers clip it’s hard not to be mesmerised by the lead singer Malcolm McGee. It seems that a little later on the group was offered a deal in the UK but Malcolm bailed out. He was replaced but the magic had gone. From what I can tell he did very little with his extraordinary voice from that point on. I hope someone will tell me I’m wrong about that. Tracing things back, though, before the Virgil Brothers he was for a time the lead singer in Python Lee Jackson. Now that completely threw me, as I only knew that name from the ‘In A Broken Dream’ single with Rod Stewart on lead vocals. I had no idea they had been a very highly thought of group back in Australia.

There are a few wonderful clips of a ridiculously cool Malcolm singing with Python Lee Jackson, including footage of them and a very hip audience in a Sydney nightclub. They didn’t record too much at that time, but what is out there is extraordinarily good, including a cover of Chuck Jackson’s ‘I Keep Forgettin’’. If I remember rightly that’s a song I first came across on the 1984 Kent Stop Dancing compilation which features a mad mix including the Kingsmen, Moving Sidewalks, Maxine Brown, Esquires, and Barbara Acklin. I loved that LP and may have once alluded to it in a fanzine around that time. I can’t remember. I wonder who among that audience at The Chords show at Eric’s in September 1979 went on to buy a copy?

Speaking of which, there is on YouTube footage of a pre-New Seekers Marty Kristian in 1966 ripping through a wild version of Bob’s ‘One Too Many Mornings’ on an Australian pop show, looking like he is going for the Billy Hassett look (like many of us at the time) and trying out a few dance moves ahead of heading to Eric’s to see The Chords and local lads The Afenders. And I wonder what the 15-year-old me, reading about that show, would think nearly half-a-century down the line when someone mentions it in association with the soulful side of Bobby Goldsboro and the mod roots of the New Seekers. I like to think he would approve enormously, but who knows?