Fifty years ago this week, Slade were deep into their ‘Thanks for the Memory’ tour, on the back of the release of Slade in Flame, the cult movie about to get the remaster treatment five decades later, back on the big screen in the UK and Ireland before a BFI Blu-ray/DVD release. In the latest feature celebrating that much anticipated new release, I bring you the first of two further Flame-related features on these pages in the next few days – providing another tempting taster of Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade, my 2023 publication for Spenwood Books, which is still very much available to purchase from the publisher and the author (with relevant links at the foot of this feature).

Here, I’m including seven pieces lifted from the book regarding five key dates on that tour, my chosen contributors celebrating the band’s final English shows on that latest British trek, providing their own heartfelt testimonies regarding key dates in London (recorded for posterity), Wolverhampton, Manchester, Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Liverpool.

By mid-June, Slade would already be two dates into an all-consuming North American sojourn, and they wouldn’t properly be back on the road in the UK for two more years. Things were about to change, big time. But for many, that final 1975 tour on home soil was either something of a game changer or further proof of the band’s live power, the group they’d grown up with still proving essential, even if their dominant rule of the UK charts was coming to an end.

New Victoria Theatre, London

26 April 1975

Simon Harvey

When Slade first hit the charts in June 1971 with ‘Get Down and Get With It’, I didn’t realise as an 11-year-old lad what an impact the band would have on my life. The band were just starting out on their chart career, their self-belief sending them on a journey to international fame. Hit single after hit single followed in rapid succession, with no less than six UK No.1s following. Thursday evenings were spent watching Top of the Pops in hope of Slade being on with their new record, and Tuesday lunchtimes listening to BBC Radio 1 on the 247 MW frequency as Johnnie Walker announced the new chart countdown to hear what position Slade’s new record had entered.

Then there were Friday evenings listening to Rosko’s Roundtable, the self-styled Emperor playing new releases, judged by an ‘expert’ panel as to the possibility of chart success. He loved Slade, having a cameo appearance in their 1975 cinematic film outing, Slade in Flame. There were also evenings spent listening to Radio Luxembourg 208 MW on a transistor radio with an earpiece under the bed covers after lights out at 9pm (I had to be up early to do my paper round before school).

In the words of 1976 Slade hit ‘Let’s Call It Quits’, I was ‘trapped hook, line and sinker’ and desperate to see Slade live. Having saved my wages from my paper round, I was able to afford to make my dream come true at London’s New Victoria Theatre, travelling in from Slough with school friend Kim Bryant on public transport. We arrived at the venue mid-afternoon to be greeted by the sight of hundreds of chanting Slade fans outside the theatre, the assembled throng demanding ‘we want Slade!’ to the amusement of the attending police, security staff and passers-by.

Fans were dressed in Noddy Holder mirrored top hats, glitter-encrusted outfits, Slade t-shirts and silver-studded stack-heeled boots. It was like walking on to the set of an apocalyptic film, with life’s most weird and wonderful people all gathered in one place.

Eventually access was allowed into the theatre, where I was in awe of the beautiful Victorian splendour. The largest entertainment establishment I had been inside prior to the New Vic being our local village hall. After watching support act Bunny and what then seemed like an eternity, Slade hit the stage to a barrage of amplified sound and lights, tearing into ‘Them Kinda Monkeys Can’t Swing’ with a ferocity that was incredible to behold – Holder in full, unstoppable flow.

I was mesmerised at being in the same room, seeing Slade in the flesh as opposed to on TV – a mind-blowing experience that changed the course of my life. The set that night consisted of some of Slade’s big-hitting tunes, including ‘Far Far Away’, ‘Gudbuy T’ Jane’, ‘Everyday’, ‘Thanks For The Memory’, ‘Mama Weer All Crazee Now’ and a stripped-back, haunting keyboard and guitar-led rendition of ‘How Does It Feel?’, spine-tinglingly beautiful.

The gig and tour were recorded by BBC Radio 1 and remain available to listen to online via the Six Days on the Road documentary, with commentary by Stuart Grundy. That day started my Slade live journey in style, the first of 98 such sightings between 1975 and 1983 up to their final gig together at the Royal Court Theatre, Liverpool, promoting No.2 chart hit ‘My Oh My’.

I saw Slade play to full concert halls, thousands at festivals, and near empty clubs, but that gig at the New Victoria Theatre will always hold a special place in my heart as the day I got SLAYED.

Civic Hall, Wolverhampton

27 April 1975

Ian Petko-Bunney

I discovered them around 1973, the time of ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’ and ‘Skweeze Me, Pleeze Me’, going on to buy ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’, ‘The Bangin’ Man’, and Old New Borrowed And Blue. Then I bought Sladest and Slade Alive! – as good a live album capturing a show as anything. They weren’t touring in the UK then. They made Slade in Flame, and they’d been touring a lot in the US. But to promote Flame they did a tour. I lived in mid-Wales and persuaded my dad to drive me and a buddy from school to Wolverhampton. That was something I’d never experienced.

I didn’t see them again until I was at Cardiff University in ’78, on a much smaller stage. It was all standing and we were all moshing. That was knockout. They hadn’t really had hits for the longest time. Then came Reading, and the revival. I’m pretty sure I saw them twice in one week in ’79. I went with a couple of buddies, notably including Russell Pierce, who I still talk to and who runs part of a radio station in Lyme Bay, Dorset. We hung around for the soundcheck but got kicked out pretty quickly.

After that, I saw them at Monsters of Rock at Donington and, on before Blue Öyster Cult, Slade killed it. I remember Noddy talking about AC/DC’s Back in Black and how they had the big bell on stage, complaining as the rain dripped down from the bell. It was just a sea of people and that was a great, great show.

King’s Hall, Belle Vue, Manchester

29 April 1975

Ian Edmundson

Slade’s Flame tour show at Belle Vue in Manchester was a very special gig for me. They were my idols. I bought their records on release from either Derek Guest or Javelin Records in Bolton. They rolled into town amidst some fanfare. There was quite a lot of radio station promotion in advance. Maybe that was a sign that they were beginning their downward slide and needed to shift some tickets, but we’d all have laughed out loud at that idea back then. As far as we knew they were still by far the country’s top band, though you have to remember that ‘How Does It Feel?’ hadn’t reached the top 10, a bit of a blip for them. The press leapt on that and sharpened their knives.

I travelled in from Bolton, and on reaching the King’s Hall I dived into the merch stall and came away with a Flame poster (I saw the film a couple of times on release), the tour programme, and a ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’ badge which some swine mugged me for on a train near Bristol a year or so later. I went and took up a place on a stairway off to the right side of the room, out of the crush with a really good view, where I could put my swag down without losing it. All the hall stewards were too busy in the carnage down at the front to be bothered with where we were standing.

The support act were Bunny, who I enjoyed. They were close to being booed off by the crowd. After what seemed like an age, Slade took to the stage. In fact, they didn’t just take to that stage, they seemed to explode onto it. I reckon it was the crowd that was exploding. The welcome was deafening. Then it was Slade’s turn to be deafening. In about 50 shows that I saw, they never showed much restraint as far as decibels went.

The sound at Belle Vue was always an utter mire. The hall was huge and cavernous, and the sound just echoed around and around. I’d also suffered through Roxy Music struggling with the acoustics there. But I shrugged off the terrible sound of the room and got on with enjoying the show. They started off with ‘Them Kinda Monkeys Can’t Swing’ from Flame – a great opener, high energy, just right.

Nod was wearing a white suit with dark spots, and the biggest tie you’ve ever seen. Dave was wearing a dark glittery suit with studs all over it. When I married fellow Slade fan Julie years later, she showed me one of the studs that she had managed to pull off it. I still have it somewhere. That suit must have just been in tatters by the end of the tour. Jim and Don dressed more conservatively, in white and white striped outfits.

While the stewards fought in vain to control the masses, Slade played ‘The Bangin’ Man’ and ‘Gudbuy T’ Jane’, familiar tunes that were greeted like heroes, then another from the film, ‘Far Far Away’. Nod told us that he and Jim hadn’t really fallen out like they had in the film. A lot of dim people seem to have thought the film was a documentary. Jim took to the Fender Rhodes piano, and they played the new single, ‘Thanks For The Memory’. That song was just too long and wrong for a single for me, but we all still loved it. Jim stayed on the piano for ‘How Does It Feel?’ and the mirror ball over the stage did its work as the crew put a spotlight on it.

Everyone reverted to their own instruments for ‘Just A Little Bit’. Slade showed everything that they knew about dynamics on this song. It went from quiet to deafening and back again several times. A singalong with ‘Everyday’ gave everyone a welcome breather, before two newer songs, ‘OK Yesterday Was Yesterday’ and ‘Raining In My Champagne’, baffled a lot of people who didn’t know them. The show closed with ‘Let the Good Times Roll’/‘Feel So Fine’ with that bass intro. Years later, I heard the Amen Corner version and was shocked to see where Slade had lifted it from. Not that it matters.

There isn’t a better show-closer than ‘Mama Weer All Crazee Now’, so that was a no-brainer. Slade hammered their last tune home and when the lights came up, the crowd began to slowly drift out of the hall. As the room cleared, we saw the seats, where we should have been, were wrecked – we had done the right thing in keeping out of the way. My ears rang for a few days after and the Slade gig was all we talked about for the next couple of days at school. We could just about hear each other.

The gig left quite a big impression on me. I was drifting towards taking up bass guitar, and Jim Lea was an obvious role model. When I later fronted bands, chatting to crowds – like Noddy Holder did – came in very useful. One of those nights that you just don’t forget.

Diane Rutter

Me and my best friend Angela spent weeks making Slade jackets for this Tuesday night gig. I still have mine, a bit worn for wear these days, and it definitely doesn’t fit me anymore. Tickets were £1.60, including a booking fee, and coloured blue.

Angela was lucky as her parents let her go to two previous gigs, in November 1972 at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall and February 1973 at The Hardrock in Stretford, the day ‘Cum On Feel The Noize’ went straight to No.1. But this was my first gig.

After obligatory boiled eggs and soldiers for tea, we started getting ready. At the time I had a Dave Hill-style haircut (a Slade in Flame look) and both of us were absolutely covered in silver glitter – faces and hair – and wearing our homemade Slade jackets and platform boots which we’d sprayed silver, and carrying our Slade scarves. At last, we were ready to go, with Angela’s dad taking us in their car. We arrived at Belle Vue and there was a huge queue of Slade fans. We joined the queue until the gates were opened, and everybody ran like mad to get in.

The King’s Hall was also used for the circus, so the auditorium was circular in shape. We had tickets very near the front, Row D. Support band, Bunny, came on stage, but all you could hear was, ‘We want Slade! We want Slade!’, chanted non-stop.

At last, Bunny departed and the roadies came on, sorting out bits of equipment and twiddling knobs on the amps. Then the moment arrived, the lights dimmed, shadowy figures could be seen, making their way onto the stage. And suddenly, in a flash of bright light, there they were… SLADE!

With the aid of gig info online, I can tell you the setlist was, ‘Them Kinda Monkeys Can’t Swing’, ‘The Bangin’ Man’, ‘Gudbuy T’ Jane’, ‘Far Far Away’, ‘Thanks For The Memory’, ‘How Does It Feel?’, ‘Just Want A Little Bit’, ‘Everyday’, ‘OK Yesterday Was Yesterday’, ‘It’s Raining In My Champagne’, ‘Let The Good Times Roll’ and ‘Mama Weer All Crazee Now’.

It didn’t matter in those days what seat number your ticket said, because everybody swarmed to the front. I was stood very near to the stage – about two or three rows back – and started the gig on Dave’s side, but by ‘Thanks For The Memory’, I’d managed to get over to Jim’s side. Gazing up at our heroes was fantastic for 15-year-old (me) and 16-year-old (Angie) schoolgirls. We sang along with every song. I’m also fairly certain Nod did a rendition of ‘The Banana Boat Song’ (‘Day-O’), years before Freddie Mercury, who nicked a lot of his stage ideas from Nod. At one point, all the stage lights were switched off. Then, in complete darkness, a strobe light flashed. It was like watching a silent movie, except it most certainly wasn’t silent!

All too soon, the show came to an end and everybody made their way to the exits. We were absolutely buzzing. What a brilliant night. A famous photo of the band appeared in the Manchester Evening News the next day, showing all the broken seats in the concert hall. I remember when the lights came up, I looked round the hall and about the first half-dozen to maybe ten rows of seats had been completely trashed. They looked more like piles of firewood than seats. It wasn’t done out of violence or wanton destruction though, just screaming excited fans (mainly teenage girls) dancing and having a good night.

There was also a photo in the next day’s Oldham Evening Chronicle, showing a lot of the audience, including me and Angie. BBC Radio 1 recorded a show, compiled from most of the gigs on this tour, called 6 Days on the Road, which was broadcast a few weeks later. It was two years until I saw them again, but the memories I have of that very first time will stay with me forever.

City Hall, Newcastle-upon-Tyne

30 April 1975

John Craven

I only saw them once, with my mate Paul. It being my first ever gig, I thought all concerts were going to be like that. But they weren’t, not even Bowie or Iggy or the Ramones. My first and my best, and I’ve seen everyone I want. Shame it all came to a messy end with Dave and Don. A bit like Flame really. I even met Noddy at a book shop, and he shook my hand. Nice bloke.

Peter Smith

In April 1975 I finally relented, saw sense, put ‘cool’ aside, and went along to see Slade again. This was my one and only experience of Slade and their audience during their glam rock, mega-pop, teen sensation period. When sold out, as it was for Slade that night, the City Hall holds 2,400 people; I swear there were 2,200 screaming girls, and me and 199 other guys. The guys were either with their girlfriends, feeling very out of place (like me) and looking around sheepishly (also like me), skinheads who had followed the band from the start, or full-on Slade fans (who stood out as they were the guys dressed as Nod or Dave). I swear every single girl was wearing a Slade scarf, tartan trousers or top (or both) or Slade badges. Or, even better, a Slade rosette, often home-made, with pictures of Noddy cut out of Jackie or Fab208. Of the 2,200 girls, I reckon 1,500 of them were wearing top hats or bowlers with mirrors stuck on them.

I was seated upstairs on a side balcony, looking down on the stage. Not the best position in the house, and it only added to me not feeling fully part of the event. I felt so out of place and self-conscious, but what the hell; I was at a Slade concert again, and I knew how hard these guys could rock on a good night.

‘WE WANT SLADE!’ When they stepped on stage the place went completely crazy. The truth is Slade’s popularity was starting to decline and their last single, ‘How Does It Feel?’, had only made No.15 in the UK charts. But as a live act, and in Newcastle that night, Slade remained massive.

Noddy was on top form. No one could work a crowd like him. And some of his banter with the crowd was pretty filthy in those days. ‘Hands up all those girls with red knickers on… Hands up all those girls with blue knickers on… Hands up all those girls with NO knickers on!’ Today, this feels dated (probably bordering on illegal), but back then the crowd screamed and screamed and screamed with excitement. They waved their scarves in the air, and everyone sang ‘Everyday’. I stood watching, taking it all in. Sometimes I felt I was part of it, but mostly it was as if I was outside looking in. I couldn’t quite relate to the madness and craziness of it all.

The set had changed completely from the early days. Slade no longer started with ‘Hear Me Calling’ or finished with ‘Born To Be Wild’. However, elements of the old Slade came through now and then; those old rockers hidden behind the glam pop teen swagger. After all, deep down I knew Nod was still the cheeky raucous rock singer, Dave was still the big kid who wanted to show off, Jim had always been a real musician, and Don remained unphased by it all, the solid rock rhythm holding it all together at the back. But I left with a strange feeling; it was as if I’d been to a kid’s party where I didn’t know anyone, no-one spoke to me, and the party went on in full swing, completely ignoring me.

This was Slade the pop band at their height. Happy days.

Empire Theatre, Liverpool

5 May 1975

Denise Southworth

I’ve always loved the radio, and my passion was always music and buying records. Growing up I shared a bedroom with my sister, a year older than me. It was the glam rock era and we’d listen to T.Rex – Electric Warrior, Tanx, all that – and Gary Glitter, Slade, Sweet, Mud and Alvin Stardust. My sister liked Sweet, but I liked Slade because the music was loud and rocky. I love a good beat, and I love the drumbeat in ‘Take Me Bak ’Ome’ and ‘Gudbuy T’ Jane’. I started following them in about 1973 and my first gig was at Belle Vue, Manchester. It was back in the days when you had to go and queue for tickets, and if T.Rex or Sweet were playing, all the kids from school would go and queue up to try and get tickets. When The Osmonds came, the school was half empty!

I remember being on the balcony at St George’s Hall in Blackburn. I just happened to wave to Dave Hill and he waved back. That made my day. Afterwards, all the fans were waiting outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band, and it was mayhem. My mum and stepdad had driven me and my sister up to Blackburn and were waiting outside for us. My sister wanted to wait behind as my stepdad’s car pulled out and he was saying, ‘Get in the car quickly!’. He was worried about the car getting crushed under the weight of these hysterical girls. I wagged off school on the day after their Manchester gig. They were stopping at the PostHouse Hotel, Manchester (now the Britannia Airport Hotel). That was the first time I met them. I got their autographs.

At the Liverpool Empire, right outside the train station, I was hanging about outside before the show. One of the roadies, possibly Swinn, gave me a pound to go across the road to WH Smiths in the train station and buy him some Sellotape or something. I brought him back the Sellotape and the change. It was only afterwards that I thought, ‘I could have run off with that pound.’

For a hardback copy of Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade, click on this link to the publisher, Spenwood Books, or get in touch with the author.

A further celebration of Slade in Flame, in light of the forthcoming BFI remastering project, will follow on these pages in the coming days. In the meantime, to revisit my previous feature celebrating the film’s golden anniversary through the pages of Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade, from February 2025, head here.

This feature is dedicated with much love to Lancashire-based Slade super-fan Diane Rutter, who is among the above contributors, and her husband, Stu, another who features heavily in the book, not least in light of Diane’s on-going health battles. Here’s wishing the both of them our very best.