(1974 Albums) Various Artists – The House That Track Built

I believe I bought this Track Records budget compilation from Woolworths’ music department in Eastleigh.

In terms of a budget compilation it certainly had a LOT going for it. Here’s the track listing….
• The Who – Magic Bus
• Jimi Hendrix Experience – All along the Watchtower
• The Sandpebbles – Love Power
• The Who – Young Man Blues
• The Precisions – If this is Love
• Thunderclap Newman – Wilhemina
• John’s Children – Desdemona
• The Crazy World of Arthur Brown – Fire
• Jimi Hendrix Experience – Purple Haze
• The Parliaments – (I Wanna) Testify
• Fairport Convention – If I had a Ribbon Bow
• The Crazy World of Arthur Brown – Devil’s Grip
• The Who – A Quick One While He’s Away

Track Records was a label set up by The Who’s managers, Chris Stamp &  Kit Lambert, so it’s no wonder that their boys get the lion’s share of cuts, and “Magic Bus” has always been one of my favourite Townshend & Co cuts (outside of the “Quadrophenia” album… more about that in a later post).

For the unaware, John’s Children was an early incarnation of T.Rex’s Marc Bolan. The cut here, “Desdemona“, was actually banned by the BBC when it came out, the lyric “Lift up your skirt and fly” evidently corrupting the youth of Britain. There’s really no doubting Bolan’s distinctive warble in the background is there?

“Fire” is, as this blog has mentioned before, a psychedelic prog rock classic of the very highest order. We tip our (probably flaming) hat to Arthur Brown for that one!

The Sandpebbles “Love Power” was their one and only R&B hit (at least, in the USA), whilst The Precisions – another R&B offering by Track – were probably the only Motown-sounding band from Detroit who weren’t actually signed to Motown!

Let’s face it, Fairport Convention are never worth talking about. 

The Parliaments - that's George Clinton on the right!

However, The Parliaments are hugely notable for being the precursor to Funkadelic & Parliament, all featuring the one and only P-funkmeister; Mr George Clinton. (Many of The Parliaments songs were later re-recorded by both bands after a label dispute was settled in the early 70’s)

Thunderclap Newman had one hit single during their brief career, the sublime “Something in the Air“. Newman himself was a Dixieland jazz pianist, whilst the band featured not only an uncredited Pete Townshend on guitar, but a 15-year-old axe virtuoso, Jimmy McCullogh, who later went on to play in Stone the Crows, Paul McCartney’s Wings and an ill-advised 1977 reformation of The Small Faces. (McCullogh died of a heroin overdose in 1979, aged just 26)

You do have to say though that for the Hendrix and Who tracks alone this album was worth every penny of its entrance fee. Surprisingly, it wasn’t an album I held on to… which in retrospect is one hell of a shame as original UK copies regularly fetch three figure sums on the likes of eBay. (Mainly because it’s the only album where that studio version of The Who’s “Young Man Blues” appears)

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Just to let you know, EFA70sTRO posts will continue to appear a little sporadically for a week or so. This is due to the necessary ‘catch up’ following my battle with the flu. Once again, apologies to all the regular readers out there.

A Brief Haitus

Sorry readers – a (hopefully) brief illness is currently preventing me from updating this blog with the same regularity as you’ve become accustomed to since its launch.

Regular service should resume shortly. Please continue to check back. It’s not my boredom with the project as a result of scant diary entires…. honest!

April 19th until May 25th 1974

Sorry – nothing

Another extended period of sod all being written in my diary pages.

Once again I can only apologise for this hiccup in the blog’s proceedings and can only hope it is something that is not repeated in 1975 and beyond, otherwise the entire project may crawl pathetically to a premature end.

(1974 Albums) Bill Haley & the Comets – Rock Around the Clock

The first song to be considered a “rock & roll” hit (reaching #15 on the Billboard charts) was Bill Haley’s 1953 single “Crazy Man, Crazy“

That same year a song was written specifically for Haley called “Rock Around the Clock“. He recorded and released it a year later to be met with disappointing sales; it stayed in the charts for just one measly week.

Haley then scored a massive worldwide hit with a cover of Big Joe Turner’s “Shake, Rattle & Roll“, credited as the first ever rock & roll single to enter the UK charts.

1955 saw the release of the landmark film “Blackboard Jungle“. The opening credits were soundtracked by “Rock Around the Clock” which was promptly regenerated sales-wise, eventually reaching the top of the Billboard charts and staying there for a quite incredible (for the 1950’s) eight weeks.

In the UK its success was stretched out over an amazing 19 months. It reached #7 in January 1955, then enjoyed further sales in November when it went to the top of the charts for a week. Then, incredibly, it returned to #1 in January 1956  and continued to sell the rest of year, rising as high as #5 in September.

In 1974 – the year of this diary entry – “Rock Around the Clock” achieved further sales success, rising again to #12 on the UK singles chart. This was due to the song being included in the film “American Graffiti“, director George Lucas’ fabulous homage to the rock & roll era.

This would have been when I became aware of Haley’s legacy and influence on the other music I was listening to and wanted to hear it. But, cheap bugger that I was, instead of forking out for the single I instead snagged the LP on Hallmark’s budget record label.

It would be many years before I fully realised that this album was not completely ‘kosher’. It was actually a collection of Haley’s hits re-recorded in 1970 for a Swedish label. Hallmark merely licensed it for the UK – to cash in on the success of the single – where it proved to be one of their biggest sellers.

(1974 Album) Eric Clapton – Rainbow Concert

Eric Clapton is considered by many people as one of the best guitarists in the world.

I am not one of those people.

Instead I think he is personally responsible for the pretentious habit most other guitarists have for ‘grimacing intently’ when squeezing out a high note, almost as if they are simultaneously squeezing out something particularly spiky from between their arse cheeks.

This album is a hybrid recording of the two “all-star” shows performed at London’s Rainbow Theatre in January 1973. Shows put together by The Who’s Pete Townshend to help out Clapton who was allegedly in the midst of his big heroin addiction.

Townshend persuaded Clapton ex-bandmates (Steve Winwood & Rick Grech from Blind Faith) and other rock luminaries of the time (Ronnie Wood from The Faces, Jimmy Karstein from J.J. Cale’s band plus Jim Capaldi and Rebop from Winwood’s band Traffic) to perform.

They played a set list which included old blues numbers, stuff from Clapton’s work with Cream and Blind Faith, JJ Cale’s “After Midnight”  and, of course, the ubiquitous ”Layla“.

The pedigree is therefore good.

But, as far as I am concerned, it’s all mutt.

Yet another album which, given hindsight, I have NO idea why I owned. None at all.

Trivia note: These concerts are said to have reignited Clapton’s interest in music, which in turn led to “461 Ocean Boulevard“, “Slowhand“, “August” and a whole slew of other distinctively average recordings. Not to mention “Tears in Heaven” and “Wonderful Tonight“. Pete Townshend’s certainly got a lot to answer for.

(1974 Album) Jethro Tull – A Passion Play

Huh?

This concept album reached #13 on the UK charts and claimed the top spot on the Billboard charts in the US.

However…. it’s rubbish.

I have absolutely no idea why I added it to my collection.

Unless it was to make that Uriah Heep Live album seem better?

(1974 Album) Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band – Dropout Boogie

“Dropout Boogie” started life as Captain Beefheart’s debut album “Safe as Milk” in 1967.

After a couple of failed singles for A&M Records in 1966, the label dropped the band. They were picked up by music impresario Bob Krasnow and signed to an offshoot of the then-succesful Karma Sutra label, namely Buddah Records.

The album was released in the UK on Pye International, later reissued on Pye’s budget Marble Arch label. It was re-issued again in 1970 – strangely retitled “Dropout Boogie” - on a second budget label, Buddah’s ‘99′ series… which, if I am right, signified that it sold for a mere 99 pence.

This may be the best 99 pence I ever spent on a piece of music. It started a lifelong appreciation of and fascination about Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band.

Captain Beefheart is essentially singer/songwriter Don Van Vliet (born Don Vliet), whilst “The Magic Band” are whatever musicians he could co-opt to work with him. Not the easiest task as Van Vliet always had a notoriously dictatorial approach to music making. What made matters worse was that the Captain couldn’t write music and often forced others to translate his strange ideas – often via the medium of whistling the tunes or banging ’guitar breaks’ out on the kitchen table.

Whilst putting together ”Safe as Milk/Dropout Boogie”, Van Vliet temporarily agreed that this approach was not ideal and employed the not-inconsiderable resources of a 20 year-old virtuoso guitarist, Ry Cooder, to help him out. A working relationship which ended as soon as recording was over, Cooder deeming Beefheart’s acerbic attitude impossible to deal with.

The album itself represents a massive hint of what was to come (“Trout Mask Replica” etc) from the Captain. Experimentation is a word that is bandied about by many artists, but Beefheart always seemed to take it that one step further. He took the Delta blues and fused it with surreal lyrics, off-kilter time signatures and repetitive guitar work, overlaying the mixture with his own distinctive vocal growl.

The opener “Sure ‘Nuff Yes I Do” captivated me from the opening chords and is a great primer for anyone who knows nothing about Beefheart as exists. The disjointed drumwork, the sparkly slide guitar rhythms and Van Vliet’s messed up lyrics – including the classic “I went around all day with the moon sticking in my eye” – all combine wonderfully.

Then we get “Zig Zag Wanderer“, as good a bit of 60’s psychedelic garage rock as you’re ever likely to hear, that tambourine as relentless as hell and the bass riff distorted almost beyond recognition.

“Call on Me” sounds like Beefheart channeling the Beatles and the Stones both at the same time, replicating the former’s guitar rhythms whilst doing his best Jagger impersonation over the top. He even finds time to sneak a Phil Spector riff in towards the end.

I have often described “Dropout Boogie” as a song that sounds as if it is being pushed down four flights of stairs, pausing briefly on every landing. It’s marvellous and malevolent all in one breath, with Vliet screaming epithets that I’ve never managed to understand from 1974 to now.

“I’m Glad“ is, quite simply, a lovely R&B ballad. It’s difficult to know if the Captain is trying to sing this ’straight’ or if it’s meant as a parody of sixties ‘moon in june’ love songs, but I have always had a soft spot for it. I can’t help thinking that if someone with a voice such as Marvin Gaye’s or Curtis Mayfield’s had recorded “I’m Glad” it could have ended up as a massive hit. It’s certainly a “close your eyes and listen & sway” song for me.

I’ve lost count of the number of mix tapes and compilations I have added “Electricity” to. It is magnificently screwy in almost every way. It sounds like nothing else in recorded music. The drums are off beat, hi-hats to the fore, there’s a zither fading in and out (is it a zither or a theremin?) whilst the Captain – after a strung out “eeeee-lec—triiiiiciiiiteeeeeeee” to kick things off – shouts things like “midnight cowboy stained in black reads dark roads without a map” over the top. It ends with some electronic note stretching which could have given Brian Eno an idea for his entire career. If I had to be on a desert island with just five Beefheart songs for company this cut would most certainly be amongst them.

Whilst the studio version is tremendously worthy, this live version recorded on a Californian beach in 1969 is also worth a listen. (A rare chance to see the Captain in action too!)

A spoken word intro … “the following tone is a reference tone, recorded at our operating level” leads into Side 2’s opener, “Yellow Brick Road”, a fairly straight (by Beefheart standards) skiffle-ish blues number, albeit one with the pre-requisite Van Vliet oblique lyrics.

“Abba Zaba” is named after a chocolate bar that Van Vliet loved as a kid and was the first choice for the title of the album. What exactly “two shadows at noon, babette baboon” has to do with a confectionary is anybody’s guess however.

“Plastic Factory” is a harmonic-led blues number. Beefheart’s great line “factory’s no place for me, boss man let me be” presumably representing some kind of cry for working freedom?

(I think it’s difficult to imagine Van Vliet working for ANYbody, although – as legend has it – he was once a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. The tale has it that he knocked on the door of science-fiction writer Aldous Huxley whom Van Vliet instantly recognised. He looked slowly down at the vacuum, then up at Huxley before stating “Sir, this sucks“)

“Where There’s Woman” is another descent into drug-fuelled psychedelia. I like to think that the Edgar Broughton Band started their entire musical career from hearing this short song, as their sound and ‘feel’ is so very reminiscent of it. (Trivia fact: E.B.B. actually covered “Dropout Boogie” on their 1970 debut)

“Grown So Ugly” is a marvellously disjointed affair that, again, screams “garage rock”. It’s the only song on the album which is not written by Van Vliet, instead penned by Louisiana blues musician Robert Pete Williams. (The Black Keys did a particularly Beefheart-esque rendition of the song on “Rubber Factory” in 2004)

“Autumn’s Child” closes the album. It’s another slice of psychedelic overload with Van Vliet’s lyrics going off on as many tangents as there are bum notes…
Autumn’s child, I met her at a balloon bust picnic
She caught me with the beauty queen
With jade-green eyes buttons and bows and fancy ties
The feet of dust under trees of rust
Make them sandals gambol under knees of trust

It’s a surreal and fitting end to, what is for me, a terrific album.

“Safe as Milk”/”Dropout Boogie” is rarely mentioned as Beefheart’s best album, but it’s my favourite by a mile. Maybe because it was the first of his I heard? Maybe because of what it represented as I got older?

I have always realised that Captain Beefheart’s music is not for everybody. His is a very difficult sound to get into. To many ears it is little more than a “noisy racket” and I can respect that point of view. Particularly because, unlike most music critics, I’m someone who fails to fawn over what is supposed to be his finest moment, namely “Trout Mask Replica“.

I can say that as a result of listening to Beefheart I nurtured a mild appreciation for traditional Blues, Delta Blues in particular. More influentially though, he also got me ‘into’ what is now generally referred to as “freak beat”, a kind of hybrid of psychedelic sounds, garage rock and sixties culture in general (highlighted by such terrific box sets as “Nuggets” or “Son of Nuggets”). My love for the classic ‘freakbeat’ sound has really gone into overdrive in recent years and it – along with classic 60’s pop – is the music I find myself predominantly listening to as I lurch towards my mid-50’s.

More than that though, it is the ‘legend’ of Captain Beefheart I admire. I love how he fits into ‘musical history’, being both a vanguard and a villain. The fact that Frank Zappa found him “weird and extreme” pretty much tells you everything you need to know about him. For all his success and acclaim, Van Vliet has remained something of a media ’enigma’ too, offering up just the merest handful of interviews over the years. The last any of us know about him is that he now lives as a wheelchair-bound recluse – having enjoyed a second career as an acclaimed abstract painter – somewhere in the Northern Californian desert.

Whilst Beefheart influenced me with regards to listening to differing sounds, his influence in the world of music has been much greater. Bands as diverse as The Clash, The White Stripes, Placebo, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Joan Osborne, Magazine, XTC and Franz Ferdinand all claim they owe part of their success to Van Vliet’s ”noise”. Tom Waits took it one step further… he actually changed his entire sound as a result of listening to Captain Beefheart. He stopped his previous ‘crooner’ stylings and swapped them for a much weirder set of offerings, the ”Swordfishtrombones” album onwards.

It could be said that more music fans are listening to Captain Beefheart without even realising it?!

April 18th 1974

“Bought new cartridge. Ronette SM500/7″

Ooooooh, a bona fide EFA70’sTRO diary entry!

Not the most riveting thing though is it?

Basically I am telling my diary that I bought a new ‘needle’ for my Garrard record deck, presumably because I had a read a review of it somewhere and it promised auditory gains next time I listened to Fat Mattress?

I will use this entry to correct a previous error too. 

I was always under the impression that the first amp I bought for myself was that posh keyboard-style Alba amp I have spoken of  in glowing terms before.

NOT the case at all. The back of this 1974 diary tells me a different story and a quick google image search rendered my comments a lie. Instead of the Alba (was it my second amp?) my first was the below apparently ‘off-brand’ Albany House model. Is it now any wonder I ended up with a crappy one which my Dad had to take back?

Sorry, now back to album reviews….

(1974 Album) Fat Mattress – Fat Mattress

Fat what now?

I do believe this is another album purchased “on sale” at one of Eastleigh’s record emporiums. If I was a betting man I’d guess Woolworth’s clearance bins.

In terms of pedigree, Fat Mattress’ is quite the intriguing mish-mash.

The band was formed by Jimi Hendrix’s bassist Noel Redding on the precept that it would allow him more freedom than he was able to enjoy as a member of the Experience.

Redding added Neil Landon, an ex-vocalist with The Ivy League (who had enjoyed a few 60’s hits including “Funny How Love Can Be“) who was also the singer on The Flowerpot Men’s wonderful beach Boys pastiche “Let’s Go To San Francisco” in 1967.

Landon and Redding were joined by guitarist Jim Leverton and drummer Mike Dillon, the latter of whom was snagged – I kid you not – from… Englebert Humperdinck’s backing band!

Given the Hendrix connection Fat Mattress were quickly signed to the Polydor label in 1969. The same year saw the release of this eponymous debut album, a hit single in Holland, an appearance at the Isle of Wight Festival and a tour of America supporting… let’s see now… oh yes, the Jimi Hendrix Experience! Redding would actually play in BOTH bands every night.

The band released a second album in 1970 (entitled “Fat Mattress 2” – *sigh*) and then… promptly split up.

I know nothing more about this album, could not even tell you the title of one track, let alone hum it. I seem to vaguely recall eventually trading it with one of the guys I worked with at Lancaster & Crook, but for what I can’t remember.

I was obviously still buying albums based on price and ‘on a whim’

(1974 Album) Pink Floyd – A Nice Pair

Once naive little record collector that I was, it actually took me a few years to realise that “A Nice Pair” was actually a repackaging of Floyd’s first two albums, “Piper at the Gates of Dawn” and “A Saucerful of Secrets“

I think I bought this album cheaply from Martin’s newsagent in Eastleigh’s Market Street. For some reason this newsagent had a record section where it would sell shrinkwrapped albums off relatively inexpensively, probably as an early form of ‘loss leader’, later perfected by the supermarket chains following the advent of CD.

I’ll be honest and say I can’t remember playing it very much. True, “Piper…” contained the magnificent “Astronomy Domine” and “Interstellar Overdrive” but I favoured the MUCH quirkier Syd Barrett composition “Bike” which closed the album.

“Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun” aside, “A Saucerful…” never sat very easily with me even after I started to get older and wiser and appreciate the band a lot more.

Truth be told I may have just bought it for the naked boobs on the front cover?!

(1974 Albums) Atomic Rooster – Made in England

Oops!

Apparently, in 1974, I ponied up for an Atomic Rooster album?!

Doutbless swayed by the prior Carl Palmer (of ELP) connection I can only assume I either discovered this album languishing in a bargain bin somewhere OR it was some kind of balancing karma for me having successfully palmed off that awful Uriah Heep live album a few weeks ago.

Whichever it was, I think its VERY safe to say that the peculiar heavy jazz-rock meanderings of Mr Vincent Crane - which are said to linger on this particular album – did not remain with me for my entire life. Indeed, they probably didn’t stay with me for more than one or two listens…  but naturally my diary does not go into such intricate detail.

Trivia freaks may wish to know that vocals on this album are handled by Chris Farlowe. Yes, that Chris Farlowe, hitmaker behind the magnificent Jagger/Richards-written No.1 single “Out of Time” in 1966. Shall we have a spin of it to take the awful taste of Atomic Rooster out of our collective mouths?

(1974 Album) Hard Stuff – Bolex Dementia

Yet another album that I had to research before I could ‘remember’ anything.

Except, even after researching, I still couldn’t recall a damned thing about this… not even the sleeve.

All I can tell you is that it was released on Deep Purple’s own “Purple” label and that Hard Stuff were a heavy rock band and were considered something of a supergroup at the time.

A “supergroup” I hear you mumble? Yes, two members of Hard Stuff came from the recently broken up Atomic Rooster whilst the third came from… erm… Quartermass

No, I don’t know why I had this album. But if I still did I could sell it for upwards of $130 on eBay these days, original pressings (which mine most certainly would have been) regarded very much as ‘collectors items’

Atomic Rooster? Blimey, would ANYone want anything related to them?… apart from maybe their magnificent hit singles?

1974 School Reports

Following on from my 1973 reports (for which I received several sarcastic comments offline) I bring you my February 1974 school reports… which appear to show little or no improvement…. indeed a worrying lack of concentration. Bear in mind these reports followed up my mock O-Level examinations, the real ones (in July) representing the kick-start I would require for the rest of my working life and career. (In theory)

“Patchy” eh? “Doubts” regarding my “willingness to work hard” eh? I guess I made up for it all when I left school and college.

So, my mock O-Levels yielded scores below 50% and Mr Middleton asks me for ’steady effort’. I think we all know where this is headed, don’t we?

It’s that ‘persistence’ that might let me down!

“Some evidence”…. “but only with a considerable effort”. Dr Erasmus was no fool was he?

Looks like Mr Bulmer has given up on me as much as I have given up on myself? … “he has now left himself far too much to do”. Nothing like a bit of encouragement is there?

Oooooh….. someone got a typewriter for Christmas didn’t they?

Remember how Physics was my best subject? Bugger.

“So, this pound note, a shekel and a rouble go into a bar…….”

 
“Worked hard”….. but “is still below standard”. Story of my life really!

(1974 Albums) Mott the Hoople – The Hoople

1974 was quite the year for Mott the Hoople.

Flush from the band’s single success in 1972 with the Bowie-penned “All the Young Dudes“, Mott had already enjoyed follow-up hits with songs like “Honaloochie Boogie” and “All the Way from Memphis“.

(Not before Mott had turned down another offered song from Bowie though… a certain little ditty entitled “Drive-In Saturday“)

Late 1973 saw the band having to live up to a “glam” moniker that they were never really happy to embrace. They were always lumped in with the likes of Slade, T.Rex and the plethora of bubblegum glam bands who filled the charts in the early 70’s and this only served undermine the stronger songs the band put out. (If Mott were considered “glam” I’ve always questioned why Deep Purple were never tarred with the same brush?… big hair, satin trousers, slightly androgynous appearance etc)

Tensions in the group began to surface, various members leaving and joining well into 1974,  the most notable of which was when Bowie’s guitarist Mick Ronson replaced Ariel Bender.

Despite all this, and at the start of 1974, Mott issued what was (and is) for me their finest album… even if other fans disagree with me, often citing it as uneven and “too much Hunter, no Mick Ralphs”. (Ralphs had left the band following the release of the previous album, “Mott”, leaving Hunter as the prime songwriter)

The Hoople kicks off with a spoken word intro into ”The Golden Age of Rock & Roll” a celebration to the band’s craft which goes out of its way to suggest Hunter was giving more than just a cursory nod to the style their famous benefactor had offered them with “All the Young Dudes”. Other than the gregarious boogie-woogie piano, the song structure with its brass elements and guitar riffs could most certainly have come from Bowie’s pen.

Mick Ralphs, later of Bad Company

“Marionette” remains one of my very favourite non-single Mott songs. It’s an ambitious dig at rock & roll management and how they always try and manipulate artists to do what they want rather than what the artist wants to do themselves. Lyrically it’s admittedly a bit suspect, but the song itself thunders across your eardrums from the get-go, going off on several rhythmic (almost operatic) twists and turns on the way. The manic laughter halfway through never fails to slightly un-nerve me.

Those pair of adrenaline-infused numbers then morph into “Alice” a pretty standard ‘rock song’ about a New York hooker which is saved from obscurity ( at least for me) by the lyrically-wonderful chorus of
“Alice you remind me of Manhattan,
the seedy and the snaz,
the shoe boys and the satin“

The listener is quickly revived by “Crash Street Kidds” a fierce guitar-riff led rocker, albeit one with a silly and somewhat unnecessary ‘false ending’ after just a few minutes and the questionable ‘dalek-voice’ ending

“Born Late ‘58” is the only song on The Hoople not written by Ian Hunter. Pete ‘Overend’ Watts’ tale of escaping a one-night stand with an underage teen “jailbaiter” is infused with a guitar riff to die for, some fabulous boogie-woogie piano (a Mott trademark) and just rocks and rocks

“Trudi’s Song” is Hunter’s soppy little tribute to his wife, replete with a Bowie-esque “woah-oh” opening and a song structure that somehow reminds you of many other ballads, not least of which is Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe“. It seems heartfelt enough though.

“Pearl’n'Roy (England)” has apparently become something of  Mott “classic” over the years. Personally I’m a little at odds with this. It’s a good little rocker packed with good moments and I think it fits into The Hoople’s line-up of songs wonderfully, but if I were to hear it out of context I would consider it average.

For me, the worst song on the album is “Through the Looking Glass“. It feels like Hunter channeling Bowie again.. and failing miserably. It’s certainly not helped by its weak symphonic structure, electronic string section and Ian’s peculiar vocal phrasing.

Clutching victory from potential defeat however is the album’s closer, the utterly magnificent “Roll Away the Stone“. The album version is different from the single release which had already been a hit in 1973, Mick Ralphs guitar contribution having been replaced by Ariel Bender’s. Admittedly there’s not much to pick between the two, however trivia freaks may care to know that the vocal bridge on the album version (the “well I got my invite” lyric) is spoken by none other than waif-like 70’s folk-pop singer/songwriter Lynsey De Paul

So, The Hoople starts well, ends well and only has couple of dodgy tracks along the way. As I said I know many people prefer the previous year’s “Mott” album, but for me “The Hoople” triumphs.

The album went to #11 on the UK chart and #28 on the American chart.

A live Mott the Hoople album was also released in 1974. Ironically, its release coincided with the announcement that the band had broken up. Mick Ronson collaborated with Hunter on his follow-up solo projects and the pair continued to work together on and off right up until Ronson’s untimely death in 1993.

Here in 2009, and Ian Hunter already having celebrated his 70th birthday (yes, really), the band reformed – for the first time in all these years – to play three sold out “40th Anniversary” concerts at London’s Hammersmith  pre=”Hammersmith “>Odeon (I refuse to call it the “HMV Hammersmith Apollo” unless I can do so derogatively).

I will settle for having seen the band play at the Southampton Guildhall in 1974. As if to horrify myself however – and my readers – I recall that I was actually more impressed with the support band Sailor than I was with Mott and… left the gig early. (Yes, I may need shooting)

(1974 Album) Byzantium – Byzantium

Confession time…. I remembered NOTHING – not a jot – about Byzantium until I started researching them earlier today.

Even the album sleeve – seen right – is little more than the vaguest memory. I think I bought this album as a ‘cut out’, a deleted release signified by having a hole punched in the upper right hand corner, or in some cases having the entire corner cut away.

Cut-outs were always sold cheaply by shops – so it seems as if I was again drawn in by ‘price’ rather than knowing anything about the album. D’oh!

My online research conjured up a surprise “MySpace” page by the band, which includes some song snippets and short biography.

None of the info rang any bells at all – apparently the band started off as an acoustic duo and later dabbled on the pub rock circuit… really? – but I was blown away when I spotted the name of one of its members.

Chaz Jankel.

The same  Chaz Jankel who later  soared to stardom as the funkmaster general for Ian Dury’s Blockheads, providing the rhythms for albums like “New Boots & Panties” and hit singles such as “Sex & Drugs & Rock’n'Roll “

January 28th until April 17th 1974

Sorry – nothing

Whoooooooooooosh!

There goes almost three months of the year in one foul swoop.

I do not know why my diary became a barren venue for my thoughts for all this time, but it does seem to have been a trend in 1974, for whatever reason.

I only have my memory to fall back on …. and – as regular readers will now have become accustomed – that cannot be counted on at all.

Was I still seeing “Angela”? I can’t honestly say we were an ‘item’ – as current punditry would have it – but I suspect we hooked up from time to time at (probably) the cinema for a movie or two for some back row Fanta and grubby fumblings in the dark. I don’t think I ever considered her ‘my girlfriend’, but maybe she was ‘my bit on the side’ from my true love of music?

It’s somewhat depressing to realise there’s this massive ‘hole’ in my teenage recollections. Especially when this was quite an important time of life, leading up – as it does – to my GCSE O-Levels in the summer.

As I have already done, I will continue to ‘pad out’ this blog with reviews and comments about the albums I bought, together with other “1974 items” that may – or may not – be of interest to you.

Once again, I can only ap0logise for the ‘break in transmission’

(1974 Album) Man – Golden Hour of Man

The Golden Hour record label was a budget offshoot of the Pye label, and – at least as I remember it – tended to concentrate on novelty compilations by has-been singers or TV actors trying to be crooners.

Man had been signed to the Dawn record label – also a subsidiary of Pye – in 1968 to what now seems like a ludicrously unfair deal where the band would receive a mere 0.75% royalty rate on the sales of their recordings.

Needless to say, this probably didn’t constructively persuade the band to conjure up their ‘best’ material.

“Golden Hour of Man” is no more than a shoddy repackaging of the group’s first two albums; the whole of “Revelation” plus all but three cuts from ”2 oz of Plastic with a Hole in the Middle”

As if to highlight just how little Pye Records thought of – or knew about- Man, the label actually managed to miss off the strongest cut from “2 oz…” the badly named but impressive “Spunk Box“

There’s little on this album for me to recommend otherwise. Man’s glory years were certainly from 1970 onwards, when they were signed to United Artists. Once again, I probably bought this album based entirely on the price, misguidedly believing that it would provide me with the same listening pleasure as the band’s other releases which I was enjoying.

I wonder how long it would take me before I cottoned on to the fact that, most times, it’s on a budget label for a reason?!

(1974 Albums) Classical Albums

Can you see what Emerson, Lake & Palmer did to me?

Yes, courtesy of budget labels MFP (Music for Pleasure) and (I think it was) Hallmark, I stuck my proverbial toe in the murky waters of classical music, snapping up Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition“, Dvorak’s “New World Symphony” and Tchaikovsky’s magnificent “1812 Overture“

It would be years later before I expanded my ‘classical tastes’ further – courtesy of, strangely, my accountant who listened to no other genre – but for a 16-year-old with a musical sense for ‘all things” I don’t think I did too badly for starters did I?

The Mussorgsky purchase was most certainly based on my love for ELP and their interpretation of “Pictures…”. I guess I needed to hear the source of Mr Emerson’s inspiration?

I think the New World Symphony came about because it was featured in “Soylent Green“, a film I had seen the previous summer. Specifically the scene where old-timer Sol (a stupendous acting performance by Edward G Robinson) – in what has otherwise become a desolate world – offers himself up for euthanasia and before ‘departing’ is treated to great food, pretty visuals and a soundtrack of his choosing.

As for the 1812, I have no idea why it may have fallen across my radar in 1974. Maybe it was played at a TIBS meeting? Whatever the reason it remains a stunningly broody piece of music, culminating as it does with those booming canons.

(1974 Album) Various Artists – Bradley’s Roadshow Live

I’ll openly admit I had to look this up, not knowing what the hell my entry referred to.

“Bradley”? “Live”?

A google search eventually managed to jog my memory as what album I bought. I remembered the sleeve when I saw it…. but absolutely nothing else whatsoever.

Further research informed me that Bradley’s Roadshow was a concert album showcasing some of the peculiarly diverse acts on the short-lived Bradley Record label, which was an offsoot of the more famous ATV music publishing group.

Apparently, the acts on this album were Paul Brett (a guitarist), Hunter Muskett (a folk-rocker) and Kala (a prog-rock act). No I haven’t heard of any of them either.

I have no doubt in my mind that I bought this album based on the retail price of just 95p – indeed, I may have even bought it cheaper from the clearance bins near the front door of Jack Hobbs’ record shop in Eastleigh.

If Jack Hobbs were still in business I suspect there would STILL be copies of this album gathering dust somewhere on the premises.

(1974 Album) Focus – At the Rainbow

Once again I fell for Holland’s finest prog rock export.

Focus at the Rainbow was, as the name suggests, a recording of a live performance by the band at the Rainbow Theatre in London’s Finsbury Park.

The sleeve was another of those die-cut affairs that were all the rage at the time, cardboard flaps opening left and right to eventually reveal…..um, actually I can’t remember!

It may have been the first live album I ever bought.

If it was, then it kicked off a lifelong disinterest in live recordings. Unlike many other music fans, I have never really embraced the notion of “in concert’ albums and in all my years of buying records or CD’s I have amassed just the merest (one) handful of them to listen to.

This may be surprising to some of my readers. I just reckon live versions of songs are never anywhere near as good as studio originals, no matter how much ‘energy’ is exhibited. Plus there’s that whole “audience joining in” rubbish which has never struck me as listenable.

I know I’m in a minority with this point of view. On the upside however I have never, ever had to invest in dodgy bootleg recordings of my favourite artists – something which a lot of my ‘musical’ friends feel is necessary to their collections.

So, in 1974 I bought “At the Rainbow” and I’ll bet it wasn’t played more than a half a dozen times before I got rid of it.