Wham! Bam! Thank You, Slade!

Posted on April 30, 2025 by writewyattuk

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

Jacket Hangs: Diane Rutter’s jacket from that Belle Vue King’s Hall show, all these years on

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.

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David Lance Callahan / Kezia Warwood – The Acorn Theatre, Penzance

Posted on April 5, 2025 by writewyattuk
Intimate setting: The Acorn Theatre, Penzance, on the night in question (Photo: Malcolm Wyatt)

‘As your soul tumbles through its darkest night

As the lost ones fade in blinding light

As the road bends hard round to the right

I’ll be singing right outside’

Five months into my dream move to Cornwall, yet this was my first proper live music show in the vicinity, in an impressive intimate setting deep into Penwith, catching an artist I first saw take to a stage 39 years ago (yep, count them).

That first sighting of David Lance Callahan was on Valentine’s Night ’86 at the Clarendon in Hammersmith, West London, fronting NME C86 outfit The Wolfhounds. Yet, if I’m honest, that third on the bill appearance (preceding The Mighty Lemon Drops and headliners That Petrol Emotion) only served to put them on my radar. It was through John Peel’s championing, the following Unseen Ripples From A Pebble LP and the subsequent Wolfies’ shows I caught that I truly grew to admire a Romford collective that soon proved they had real staying power.

Within five years that ever-evolving, cultured outfit (always too important to be written off as ‘indie noise pop’) had gone, David moving on to new territory – ‘post-rock groove’, Simon Reynolds reckoned – with Margaret Fiedler in Moonshake. But by 2006 The Wolfhounds were back, part of a bill engineered by St Etienne’s Bob Stanley at the ICA in London, alongside Aztec Camera supremo Roddy Frame and June Brides frontman Phil Wilson, the latter (their bands initially paired on the short-lived Pink Label with the aforementioned Petrols, McCarthy and Carter USM forerunners Jamie Wednesday) just so happening to be in Penzance on Thursday night to check out David at the Acorn, his first date since a Flying Nun promo visit in Auckland, New Zealand.

Essex Troubadour: David Lance Callahan, live in Penzance. Photo: Andy ‘Wibble’ Whitehead

It’s now been five years since the last accomplished Wolfhounds LP, Electric Music, David ploughing his music writing, performing and recording energies into an acclaimed solo outing, proving himself once again with three mighty long players sporting his name. And at the Acorn we saw several of those songs somewhat stripped to the bone – just him, a couple of guitars and a clutch of quality songs underlining his craft.

As is his wont, he remains keen to help lend a leg up to emerging artists on the circuit, and introduced a fair few of us on the night to Kezia Warwood, similarly armed just with a guitar and her own wiles, a short but always engaging set showcasing a fine voice and sound songwriting acumen, your scribe hearing shades of Joni Mitchell and maybe Suzanne Vega (check out early single ’Sweet Freeloader’ for a taste of that), this Sinead O’Connor fan also voicing a love of Lankum, her stirring take on The Incredible String Band anti-war ballad, ‘The Cold Days of February’, just one of the night’s highlights.

Kezia’s own numbers impress, not least ‘Coronation Street’, dedicated to ‘the gays out there’, while her penultimate number, ’17 Again’, got me thinking of Billy Bragg’s appropriation and recalibration of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘The Leaves That Are Green’… then lo and behold led straight into her closing cover of ‘A New England’, pitched somewhere between Billy and Kirsty Maccoll and worthy of both.

Supporting Chance: Kezia Warwood, coming to a venue near you soon, no doubt. Photo: Andy ‘Wibble’ Whitehead

David came to the Far West on his tod, ex-Fall drummer and regular co-conspirator Daren Garratt back home, the bulk of the set taken from most recent release, Down to the Marshes, his ‘more worldly standalone album’ after ‘the Romulan twins of English Primitive I and II… birthed via Caesarean section  from their vixen mother,’ and while the LP itself – one his label, Tiny Global, reckon ‘will haunt your days and nights’ – carries the added joy of horns (step up, Terry Edwards, for one) and strings, the essence was here, David’s eclectic array of influences – from post-punk to folk, blues, Asian and West African – coming through loud and clear.

In a mighty advert for an album that ‘makes its own genres and rules’, David chose poetically pleasing closing number ‘Island State’ as his set opener, that followed by the LP’s own starting point, ‘The Spirit World’, as its ‘characters cribbed from Hilary Mantel walk around a Stepford park landscape, comfortable in their sparkling clean apathy’. More to the point for this listener, I have to wonder where he’s been hiding those rich vocals, David unleashing his inner Scott Walker meets Neil Hannon tonality.

Along the way we were treated to his (ahem) co-write with W.H. Auden, ‘Refugee Blues’, new song ‘Place Holder’ and ‘Down to the Marshes’ itself, his ‘walk through the lifetime of a couple measuring the stages of their relationship and family through the seasons on an imaginary suburban marsh, a Lea Valley of the mind’. And then there was ‘The Montgomery’, his haunting tale of a grounded US warship ‘lodged in a sandbank on the Thames estuary, and constantly threatening to explode with each rising and falling tide’. And if that ain’t a metaphor for our times, what is?

Time was always against us, with no time unfortunately for ‘Kiss Chase’ or ‘Father Thames and Mother London’ from the new platter, while there was just one Wolfhounds selection… even if in my case mean the latest LP title conjured up 1988’s ‘Son of Nothing’ opening line ‘Down where the river used to wind…’, which proved something of an earworm on my way to ’Zance. And while I couldn’t really picture old faves like ‘Cruelty’ or ‘Middle Aged Freak’ without bent-double guitar hero Andy Golding at his side, the more intimate setting suggested scope for a wander through the pensive ‘Lost But Happy’ and ‘Another Day on the Lazy A’, perhaps. That said, there are only so many quality songs you can fit in a set, and what was served up far from disappointed. And the oldest song he played? A slightly less wonky, raw take on Electric Music’s ‘Pointless Killing’, arguably akin to Kezia’s first choice of cover.

Other highlights included winning choices from his 2022 debut solo LP, ‘She’s the King of My Life’ and ‘Born of the Welfare State Was I’, the latter including its salutary nick from Bo Diddley’s ‘Pills’. And who knows, maybe next time he returns to the South-West, Kezia could accompany him on that.

And then came the wondrous ‘Robin Reliant’, its final verse quoted at the top, that fine song – ‘like William Blake brought up to date’ – certainly echoing down the street, remaining with me as I headed home, this seemingly rare bout of optimism from our neuvo-folk storyteller, its hero singing ‘above our trials and misfortunes’ and one that ‘will keep singing long after we’re gone,’ those sentiments amplified on a night when my wander back to the car coincided with a joyous glimpse of a clear night sky out West.

‘Seasons come and seasons go

Spring’s explosion and autumn’s glow

Summer blooms and winter blows

You can hear me singing’

For the latest from David Lance Callahan, including forthcoming dates (his next show is back on old ground at What’s Cookin’, Walthamstow, East London, on April 16th, with support from acclaimed Kentish singer-songwriter-pianist Marlody, and ticket details here) and release info, check out his Bandcamp, Facebook and Instagram pages.

And for more about Kezia Warwood, check out her website, Facebook and Instagram links.

https://www.keziawarwood.co.uk/

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Shouting to the top and from the roof – remembering Rick Buckler, while celebrating The Jam’s legacy

Posted on February 26, 2025 by writewyattuk
Sound Affection: The author at home in West Cornwall, in Dream Time (Photo: Lottie Wyatt)

I wanted to shout to the top and from the rooftops about all this last week… but then came Tuesday’s devastating breaking news about Rick Buckler, and everything (quite rightly) went on hold.

That all remains very much on my mind, as is the case with Jam fans everywhere. However, some things are worth celebrating, and I like to think – as confirmed by some of the lovely feedback already received – that the newly-published Solid Bond In Your Heart: A People’s History of The Jam (the premise of which was first introduced on these pages a little over a year ago, in January 2024, that feature copied here, and then again in late November 2024, with that linked here) does Rick proud, as it does his former bandmates, Bruce Foxton and Paul Weller.

Within the book there are many lovely tributes to all three members of that classic line-up, and more than one friend has already told me they revisited their own words on seeing the book after Rick’s departure with trepidation, but then realised their contributions stood up in the circumstances. In fact, what we find about Rick on those pages shows not only the love and respect so many of us had for his musicianship and creativity, but also shines light on his humour and personality. And there’s a few great stories within that spring to mind that made me roll up, with him in mind.

I was lucky enough to interview Rick a few times (with a link to our most recent feature-interview, from January 2023, here, with further links to two more at the end) and will always treasure in particular an in-depth chat we had backstage at Preston’s 53 Degrees not long after From The Jam came together in 2007. I always found him approachable and open, and nothing seemed to be off limits in our conversations. A thoroughly decent fella, and it was such a thrill to get to speak to him – this star-struck fan properly getting to channel his inner teen. Such a masterful drummer, part of a wondrous rhythm section with Bruce Foxton, and Paul Weller has said many times he was the right choice for The Jam, who were always a group in essence. Above all he always seemed a great bloke, down to earth, a proper family man, nothing like we assume a rock star to be. And yet he had such style.

Highly Respected: Rick Buckler at a signing session for The Jam – 1982 (Omnibus Press, 2022)

I’m sad that he never got to see the finished book, my last email still sat in Rick’s in-box, this scribe one of many who didn’t realise how understated that announcement from his promoter about postponed personal appearances was. But maybe that was the mark of the fella – no ego, just a lovely bloke who had time for so many of us. That’s certainly what I found in my own dealings with Rick, and my heart goes out to his family and close friends as they continue to get their heads around his departure.

Anyway, the night before that sad news broke, I received word via my publisher, fellow author Richard Houghton, that Paul Weller, who very kindly provided a foreword to the book – had now seen the finished product… and loved it. And his words?

‘Tell Malcolm I really love it! It’s a great, different perspective on it all. For me that says more than any biog bollox. Love it, thank you!’

So there I was, glowing. When Richard at Spenwood Books entrusted me – on the back of my Slade book (still available via this link) – with putting together this book for his People’s History series, I was hopeful of some sort of endorsement from those involved with the band, not least because of past dealings with Bruce and Rick, among others, But I really didn’t expect us to get a foreword from Paul, and I certainly couldn’t have dreamed of that winning review.

Precious Love: The author with Solid Bond In Your Heart, digging the new read (Photo: Lottie Wyatt)

Paul’s Mod sensibilities suggested to me that anything nostalgia-based in book form about his breakthrough band could be written off as well meaning but somewhat pointless wallowing in the past. But I was keen to somehow navigate those treacherous channels and steer my way between out-and-out nostalgia and something more forward-looking that properly celebrated The Jam’s wonderful legacy… and I like to think Paul’s review suggests we got that about right.

I reckon I now need to have serious words with that Boy About Village who recalls hearing Nicky Horne play ‘The Modern World’ on Capital Radio just after his 10th birthday, and also that 15-year-old trying to get his head around Paul’s thinking in that conversation with a Nationwide reporter in blustery Brighton in late ’82; see what they make of it all.

There is a tie-in part two publication coming, this one taking a slightly different path, with hints of that already dropped by myself (with more details to follow). But right now I’ll say I’m really proud of Solid Bond In Your Heart, and Paul’s words and those of all of you who have already kindly been in touch about the finished book are music to my ears. So thanks, Paul, and thanks to everyone else who’s got on board with the book. More to the point, perhaps, a big thank you to Rick, Bruce and Paul for all they gave us in their time together as The Jam. To paraphrase a certain classic hit, what they gave us ‘will always remain’.

Spenwood Books’ Richard Houghton has been a busy lad this past couple of weeks, posting copies to all those who pre-ordered (the staff at his sub-post office in Chorlton, Manchester, must see him coming and try and lock the door as he struggles up the path), and a lot more were on their way this week. If you haven’t yet ordered, now would be a great time, with the Spenwood Books page link here. Cheers for your support, one and all.

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Set the house ablaze – celebrating 50 years of Slade in Flame

Posted on February 21, 2025 by writewyattuk

In honour of the British Film Institute (BFI) marking 50 years of Slade in Flame with its return – newly remastered – to the big screen in the UK and Ireland, then a BFI Blu-ray/DVD release, WriteWyattUK presents the first of two features celebrating the golden anniversary of an acclaimed cinematic statement from the Black Country’s finest.

This week in 1975, Slade in Flame was playing to audiences all over London, part of a staged roll-out around the UK and Ireland, and what the Black Country’s finest saw as the next step in their bid for world super-stardom.

A week earlier, on February 13th 1975, Noddy Holder, Jim Lea, Dave Hill and Don Powell had arrived in a blaze of glory on a vintage fire engine ahead of the London premiere of the film at the Metropole Cinema, Victoria, handy for the nearby New Victoria Theatre, where they would put on two dates 10 weeks later on a tie-in UK tour, that set of dates the last before they quit the home circuit in an ultimately unsuccessful bid to crack America.

That London premiere came a month after the film was first rolled out at the Pavilion Theatre and Cinema in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, with a number of UK public appearances following, such as that on March 10th in Glasgow where Noddy turned up in a horse-drawn hearse (the rest of the band in a Rolls Royce behind, as per John Milne’s story below), a nod (ahem) to their frontman’s character, Stoker, who gravitates to the film’s star turn, Flame, after a spell with the funereal Roy Priest and the Undertakers.

And while the overall public reception to the Richard Loncraine-directed Slade in Flame was initially somewhat mixed – for an outfit riding the waves of success barely a year earlier – the film is now rightly recognised as something of a classic, and it’s set to return to the big screen on May 2nd courtesy of BFI Distribution, a tie-in BFI Blu-ray/DVD release 17 days later, including new extra features.

I won’t go into too much detail as to the premise of the film, but in a nutshell it charted the rise and fall of fictional pop group Flame in the late Sixties, from raw beginnings on the club circuit to superstardom, its darkly realistic take on that world veering someway from the pop movie expected, a ‘warts-and-all portrait of a band in freefall amidst the music-industry suits who want a piece of the pie’. 

The common consensus is that it was the band’s manager, Chas Chandler (the Tyneside-raised Animals bass player who previously discovered and managed Jimi Hendrix), who decided a film should be Slade’s next step after a couple of years of huge chart success. That and finding fame in America. And despite the public image of the band during the glam era, Slade as a unit largely agreed that they didn’t want to do a ‘running and jumping around’ film in the fashion of The Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night (much as they loved that, instead commissioning a script based on the real life adventures of many of their contemporaries and peers on that Sixties scene, The Animals among them.

The result was something closer to Nicolas Roeg’s Performance perhaps, and the previous year’s David Essex cinematic hit, That’ll Be the Day, Richard Loncraine (working on his first feature film) and screenwriter Andrew Birkin (sister of Jane) joining Slade on the road in America in a bid to soak up their experiences and hear their stories and those of other acts they worked with.

If you’ve yet to discover the film, or if it’s been a while since you caught it on the big or small screen, you’re in for a treat. Film critic Mark Kermode, a major fan, labelled it the Citizen Kane of British pop movies, one largely put together on location in London, Sheffield and Nottingham, the Black Country quartet – none of whom had properly acted before – supported by a cast including Tom Conti (the Oppenheimer actor’s first main film role) as manager Robert Seymour, Alan Lake as singer Jack Daniels (at one point fired from the set for disorderly behaviour, only reinstated thanks to his wife Diana Dors’ persuasion), Johnny Shannon (Performance) as manager Ron Harding, and DJs Emperor Rosko and Tommy Vance.

The tie-in soundtrack album, released in late November ’74, six weeks before the film premiered in Chas Chandler and fellow Animal turned co-manager John Steel’s home city, reached No.6 in the UK LP chart, preceded by lead single ‘Far Far Away’, which got to No.2 (kept off the top by Ken Boothe’s ‘Everything I Own’). As for the sublime ‘How Does It Feel?’, the second single, that stalled at No.15 in early March. No accounting for taste, but it seemed that Slade’s stellar chart reign was as good as done. And yet here we are, half a century later, that single (and the opening sequence of Slade in Flame in which it features) remaining among the finest ever moments in the history of pop and rock for this scribe, the tie-in long player one I still have to put on and savour every now and again.

The newly touched-up film – remastered by the BFI from the best available 35mm materials for its cinema release and its first ever release on Blu-ray – premieres at BFI Southbank on Thursday 1st May, and that’s as good an excuse as any to reproduce below five excerpts from Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade (still available to order from Spenwood Books via this link) in relation to the original release, the first from a certain James Robert Morrison, better known as Jim Bob, formerly of Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine fame, who caught the film at his local South London fleapit on release in mid-February 1975.

ODEON CINEMA, STREATHAM, SOUTH LONDON

JIM BOB

Reaching Out: Jim Bob wanted to be Jim MacLaine, Jim Lea and Ray Stiles… rolled into one

It feels like Slade have always been there. One of my life’s constants. On all those Top of the Popses I watched as a kid and soundtracking my Christmases since forever. When I went to Streatham Odeon in 1975 to see Slade in Flame it was the time in my life I’d decided I was definitely going to be in a band. I was going to be the bass player. Like David Essex’s character in ‘Stardust’, Jim MacLaine, and like Ray Stiles from Mud, who lived on the same road as my old primary school. And Jim Lea in Slade. The bass players seemed like the coolest band members. Years later, in 2020, Jim Lea had seen the video for my song ‘Kidstrike!’, was getting a video made and wanted to know who made it. He’d apparently said he liked the song too. I don’t know if that’s true, but I still boast about it whenever the subject of Slade comes up. 

In 1999, if it wasn’t for Slade, my band Jim’s Super Stereoworld’s second single ‘Could U B The 1 I Waited 4’ would have been called ‘Could You Be The One I Waited For’. Boring. Also, there’s a song on my new album {Thanks For Reaching Out, 2023} called ‘Bernadette (Hasn’t Found Anyone Yet)’. When we were recording it, it reminded me a bit of ‘Coz I Luv You’, so we added a military type snare drum and a violin to make it more like it. We even talked about putting a microphone in the dance studio upstairs to record the kids’ dance class stamping along with the bass drum. Yes, all those years after seeing Slade in Flame at the pictures, I still want to be in Slade. 

ABC CINEMA, ENFIELD, NORTH LONDON

KEVIN ACOTT

Lang Way: Kevin Acott, en route to his Bay City Rollers audition, ‘displaying my usual sartorial flair’

This is your music.

You’re 13. The furthest, furthest away you’ve been is Lowestoft. You’ve (sort of) loved one girl in your life. And the only red light you’ve ever seen is the one upstairs in that boozer in Edmonton, the one with bullet holes in the front, the one they’ll knock down soon, right after punk. 

Music has been there though, kissing and embracing you, every day of those 13 years. Your mum and your dad love music. They both sing, sometimes. Not often enough, but when they do, it’s a sign they’re happy.

They love their music. Though not your music: they say they don’t really like your music. They don’t like His hair, of course. Or His cockiness. Or His hat. Or The Other One’s teeth. Or Their trousers. They don’t like the way these so-called musicians talk. Northern. Rough. You realise right then, as mum tuts, that you want to be Jim. Or Don. And that it’s never going to happen.

They did quite like that Christmas song though, mum once said. But you don’t care what they think: this… this is your music. Yours. You don’t know how. Or why. But you go to watch Slade in Flame at the ABC on Southbury Road, Enfield, full of thrill and fear, and you sneak in – it’s a double A – and soon you don’t know what you’ve just seen but all the adult world’s sex and darkness and violence and harsh scrambling-for-joy starts to enter you, engulf you. And so does its sadness and its regret, its sweetness and laughter and melody and harmony, its sillinesses and seriousnesses, its out-of-timeness. Changed.

Ha! How does it feel? HOW DOES IT FEEL?! I don’t know, Noddy mate, I don’t know. I didn’t know then and I don’t really know now. But: when I listen to you these days, I miss my parents and I smile and I understand at least a little more than I did. And I realise the Flame you helped light in so many of us still burns. And that makes me feel good.

This was our music. And it’s still our music.

OK. Yesterday was yesterday. But this was our music. And it’s still our music.

STUDIO 1 CINEMA, SUNDERLAND

PETER SMITH

I began to lose faith in Slade during 1973 and 1974. I thought they’d become too much of a teen pop band and didn’t feel it was ‘cool’ to go and see them live. I felt I’d lost that fine loud raucous rock band to the teenage girls who would scream at Noddy and Dave and go to the concerts sporting top hats with silver circles stuck to them, Slade scarves and tartan baggies. So, while all the girls at school were going to see them at the City Hall, Newcastle, telling me how great they were, I resisted the urge to go along. I didn’t fancy standing in a hall full of screaming girls. And anyway, I told myself, I’ve seen them before they ‘sold out’ to celebrity status, when they were a proper rock band. Looking back, that was a mistake; it’s funny how important it was to appear ‘cool’ at the time. And all along I secretly wanted to go and see them again. Still, I consoled myself by spending my time going to see Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, The Groundhogs, Uriah Heep and lots of other ‘proper’ rock and ‘underground’ bands.

The next time I (sort of) saw Slade was when they made a personal appearance at a local cinema to promote Slade in Flame (February). I went with a group of mates to see Slade introduce the film. We were cutting it fine, timewise, and as we arrived at the cinema, we saw a big silver Rolls Royce pull up outside. Noddy, Dave, Jim and Don jumped out, ran straight past us, and made their way into the cinema. We quickly paid our money to the cashier (probably £1 or so) and followed them in, just in time to hear them say a few words to introduce the film, then run out just as quickly as they came in. I think they told us they were off to another cinema in the region to do the same thing. Strangely, given the band were making a personal appearance, the cinema was nowhere near full. Or maybe their popularity was already starting to wane.

I finally relented from my Slade abstinence and went to see them in concert again (City Hall, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, April 30th).

APOLLO THEATRE / ALBANY HOTEL, GLASGOW

JOHN MILNE

Two Nods: John and Jessie Milne and son Noddy with his namesake, back at Glasgow Apollo, 1982

Me and my friends were Slade fans from when ‘Get Down And Get With It’ came out. When Play It Loud came out, they were dressed as skinheads and we dressed the same; that’s the way we were. My mum and dad used to get me Slade singles, and when I was 21, they bought me the American version of Play It Loud because I didn’t have a copy. Me and my pals would go to concerts together, and in 1974 I met Jessie, who I married later that year, and we started going to concerts together.

I missed seeing Slade perform ‘How Does It Feel?’ on Top of the Pops the first time because I had to go to hospital to see my wife and our new baby, Neville John Holder Milne. The next month (March 10th) Slade came to Glasgow to promote Flame. DJ Richard Parks was on top of a horse-drawn hearse with Noddy, who was dressed as an undertaker. The rest of them followed in a big black Rolls-Royce.

They started going down Bath Street, from where they were staying at the Albany Hotel, towards the Apollo, where the film was going to be shown. All the fans were running down the road with the hearse, including me. I had on white skinners and a Slade in Flame t-shirt and had a wee tartan gonk. As the hearse slowed down at the traffic lights I managed to jump up and I gave Noddy the gonk. My white denims got covered in oil because I was jumping up the wheels.

There’s a photo of me in the local paper running after the hearse. Me and Jessie kept running and running and running until we got to the Apollo. We decided to go home and get changed, then go to their hotel. We got there and the place was swarming with fans. We walked up to the main door and could see them walking about inside, so just walked in. We went to the lift, it opened, and Don Powell got out. We got a picture of him. He looked at us as if he got a fright. We said, ‘Where’s the rest of the band, Don?’ He said, ‘They’re in there getting something to eat.’ So we went to their table and who should be sitting there but Noddy, Jimmy and Dave Hill. I’ve got a picture of me sitting with Noddy, with Dave standing behind us. Fans were hitting the windows. They were so jealous.

When I showed Noddy my son’s birth certificate, he said, ‘Has your son got fair hair and blue eyes and long sideburns like me?’

CAPITOL THEATRE, CARDIFF

CHRIS HARRIS

Chain Male: Chris Harris in Paris, aged 16 in 1973, presumably already on the chain gang

Slade in Flame was out on general release in February 1975, and I was fortunate enough to attend the Welsh premiere, held at the Capitol Theatre, Queen Street, Cardiff, in April, a short distance from where I first saw the band live in June ’73.

This was thanks to my dad, a photographer for the Western Mail and South Wales Echo. How lucky was I? All four members of Slade were there in person. I managed to meet them briefly and have the album signed by each one of them. What a day that was, meeting the band, watching their film and tucking into a buffet! To my shame, I no longer have the signed album.

I also went to see Slade in concert at that same (a week later). Sadly, that fine building closed in January 1978 and was demolished in February 1983. What an absolute waste of an historic building. It was eventually turned into a faceless, half-empty indoor shopping centre. Shocking.

I remember fans en masse trying to pick up small pieces of Dave Hill’s discarded colourful face glitter that littered the stage and floor. All no doubt eager to take home a small souvenir of a fantastic evening.

I got to see Slade again in October 1979 at Cardiff Uni’s Students’ Union, then in December 1981 at Sophia Gardens, an indoor venue situated near Bute Park, a stone’s throw from Cardiff Castle.

Keep On Rocking back to this website and you’ll soon discover part two of my Slade in Flame special. And for a copy of the hardback of Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade and more details about the book, head here.

And to pre-order a copy of the BFI-remastered Blu-ray/DVD release of Slade in Flame, head here.

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Shining crazy diamond light on mighty sound systems

Posted on February 15, 2025 by writewyattuk

Chris Hewitt clearly remains on a mission… his calling to continue enlightening us with an in-depth working knowledge of what went on behind the scenes in the World of Rock back in the day. And I’m not talking encounters with Colombian marching powder or lurid recollections of Dances With Groupies. Chris’ areas of expertise involve sonic enlightenment, his serialisation of the Development of Large Rock Sound Systems now up to four volumes… and counting.

In Volume 4, Chris – last popping up on this website in May 2023, with a link here – shines further crazy diamond light on Pink Floyd’s sonic experimentations, this time concentrating on their Allen and Heath systems and telling the story of the innovative company behind all that. But he also returns to the winning subject of David Bowie, the onus on his 1973 sound system, in a 150-plus page paperback also taking in the IES (International Entertainers Services) story and looking at The Grateful Dead’s Wall of Sound, while featuring a wealth of cracking images across the (circuit) board, including those from a few less celebrated ’70s festivals.

Published under the Dandelion Records name (the link to that label and founder John Peel – dating back to Chris’ Tractor days – explained in my first chat with Chris seven years ago, and copied here), it’s another large format book, the fact that there have been so many volumes something of a surprise to the Cheshire-based ‘musical archaeologist’ (BBC Radio 6 Music) behind CH Vintage Audio.

As Chris puts it, ‘Back in 2020 when I started writing and compiling Volume 1, I never thought the interest from all of the world would lead to the creation of further volumes, as people’s memories and photographs came out of the woodwork.’ And they certainly have, much new info, insight and many an anecdote leading to another splendid read.  

Palace Presence: From the crowd at Crystal Palace Bowl. Photo courtesy of Chris Hewitt

The section on Pink Floyd ‘s Allen and Heath system was put together with help from innovative electronic designer Andy Bereza, the Floyd first bringing in Allen and Heath at Pompeii in late ’71, with Andy there from the outset. He recalls, ‘The chief Pink Floyd roadie at the time of building the Pompeii mixer was a crazy guy called Peter Watts, who later died of a drugs overdose. I remember when he first came up with proposals for a mixer. He came to me with a huge A1 sheet of paper covered in fluorescent markers, with different coloured knobs for every manageable area of the mixer and the idea of coloured luminated push buttons in a variety of colours for routing on the desk.

‘Peter, like a lot of late ‘60s, early ‘70s people, was into psychedelics, and also wanted to see the mixing desk feature lots of bright coloured lights. I think we did what we could in satisfying his needs for visual stimulation, but in the end, he changed all the knobs constantly, all by himself.’

Much more is revealed about Floyd’s Allen and Heath partnership, the band’s drummer, Nick Mason initially revealing vague details about that hook-up while promoting the Atom Heart Mother LP in April 1971, work by then already underway on follow-up, Meddle. And in Volume 4, we’re soon in Dark Side of the Moon territory, with revelatory insider quotes and interviews – past and present – from the likes of aforementioned Peter Watts, Chris Michie, Mick Kluczynski, Alan Parsons, and Robbie Williams.

The Pink Floyd section spans much of the band’s’ 70s live shows – flying pigs and all – while the IES section sheds light elsewhere via some lovely stories about many more large scale outdoor productions, such as May 1970’s Hollywood Music Festival – not long before Jimi Hendrix, Free, The Who and co. stole the headlines on the Isle of Wight – at Ted Askey’s Pig Farm in Leycett, rural Staffordshire, with The Grateful Dead making their UK debut and John Peel compering ‘from DJ decks on the ground below the front of the very tightly-packed stage.’ And that festival certainly boasted a stellar lineup, also including Traffic, Family, Ginger Baker’s Air Force, Jose Feliciano, Black Sabbath, Free, Colosseum, Mungo Jerry, and Screaming Lord Sutch. Not bad for 50 shillings over that Whitsun Bank Holiday weekend.

Sound Systems: IES’ set-up across the water at Crystal Palace Bowl. Photo courtesy of Chris Hewitt

We also hear about IES’ involvement at three outdoor shows in July 1974: at Knebworth Park, featuring among others the Allman Brothers Band, the Van Morrison Show, The Doobie Brothers, the Mahavishnu Orchestra, The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, and Tim Buckley; the Crystal Palace Bowl Garden Party show, Rick Wakeman performing his  Journey to the Centre of the Earth on a bill also featuring Leo Sayer, Procol Harum, and Gryphon; and Buxton Festival, starring The Faces, Humble Pie, Captain Beefheart, Mott the Hoople, Lindisfarne, and Man. Talk about spoiled for choice. We also hear of IES’ involvement in that era with Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel, and with The Beach Boys and The Eagles at Wembley Stadium.

Regarding Bowie’s Sound Secrets, 1973, ‘from the men who built and operated his sound system,’ as Chris puts it, ‘Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders usually sounded and were incredible. At one of the last concerts, attended by Elton John, the latter was heard to say that the piano sound – never an easy instrument to amplify – was the best he’d ever heard. Bowie’s sound secrets were many, and although much of the quality was due to the fact that there were large financial resources available for equipment, the design and construction of the PA system and the way it was used, were what made the Spiders’ sound so good.’

That PA system was built by Mike Turner, of Turner Electronic Industries, a relatively small outfit when they first approached Bowie, the initial demonstration taking place at Beckenham Rugby Club, South-East London, not far from where the Brixton-born, Bromley-raised icon had a flat. There’s insight too from Robin Mayhew, the sound engineer and road manager who was the instigator of that original demo and remains behind the Bowie and Tony Defries-sanctioned Ground Control, Robin having supervised the positioning and wiring back in the day while running the show from a mixer console.

Sound Control: Mick Ronson and David Bowie’s sound statement. Photo courtesy of Chris Hewitt

Some of the detail of Chris’ nuts and bolts take on his subject, as I’ve pointed out in previous appreciations, is perhaps lost on those of us who rather take their inspiration from the sheer energy of live music in all its guises without knowing too much about the technical what-the-fuckery of it all… but he always pulls it off, the stories included across these four volumes often very entertaining. And who better to guide you through such a process than someone who’s been there, staged it and splashed out on much of the gear he and his friends feverishly talk about on these pages.

My move late last year from just up the road from Chris’ Cheshire base to deepest Cornwall meant a delay in putting together this piece, but better late than never… although word has it that he’s already well and truly ensconced in Volume 5 while courting further contributions, as he continues to go about his bold sonic quest. In fact, at the time of going to press, he told me, he has ‘tons of material but a few side distractions,’ those including a project with Abbey Road Studios, who have asked him to take all his Abbey Road and Beatles gear back into Studio 2 for a photo shoot, adding that ‘some of it’s not been in there since 1967.’ Meanwhile, this year sees Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon 1973 quad system being used for live shows by a Floyd tribute act. So here’s to the next part of the story, and the author himself. Shine on, Chris.

The CH Vintage Audio collection and Chris Hewitt Museum of Rock – ‘the country’s best collection of rock ‘n’ roll sound equipment’ – is just half an hour from Manchester and available for viewing by personal appointment.  And for more details on the four volumes (so far) of the Development of Large Rock Sound Systems series, Chris Hewitt’s 2022 50th anniversary book celebrating the Bickershaw Festival (as featured in this appreciation), and various other CH projects, check out his https://chvintageaudio.com/ website. You can also contact him via email at enquiries@chvintageaudio.co.uk, call 07970 219701, or order online via www.deeplyvale.com/wem-pa-book.

While you’re here, talking of Pink Floyd, those good people at Spenwood Books (OK, full disclosure, they have published my most recent books on Slade and The Jam… but I’m writing this merely because it contains another quality product from the same publisher) are currently offering at a bargain £10 plus p&p Richard Houghton’s wonderful large format, epic, fully illustrated 450-page appreciation of the band, published in late 2023, originally retailing at £35.

It’s a must for Floyd fans, written by those that were there. Richard Houghton writes, ‘Wish You Were Here – A People’s History of Pink Floyd takes the reader on a trip back in time (without the aid of acid) to the psychedelic Sixties, when London was tuning in, turning on and dropping out and when Pink Floyd were at the heart of what was happening in the music capital of the world. With concert memories going back to the earliest Floyd shows, in 1966, through to the last appearance of the band at Live 8 in London’s Hyde Park in 2005, this is the Pink Floyd story in the words of over 500 fans, with eyewitness accounts from around the globe of seeing in concert one of the most legendary bands of all time.

‘It’s the story of Syd Barrett’s founding of the band and of his genius and burnout; of the move by the band from the singles charts and into recording and performing the multi-million selling albums The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here and The Wall; of the gruelling world tours and increasing tension between band members Roger Waters and David Gilmour that fuelled the creative genius of the band and which continues to spark to this day, nearly 20 years since the band last played live together.

‘More than 300 different gigs are recalled by fans who remember the music, the light show and the aural adventure of a Pink Floyd concert along with the wine, the magic mushrooms and the window pane acid.

‘Floyd concerts were not captured on smartphones. Concert memories were an aural and visual experience made in the mind’s eye. Now these stories, previously shared only with family and friends, are told anew.’

To order, visit https://spenwoodbooks.com/product/wish-you-were-here-a-peoples-history-of-pink-floyd/

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Celebrating a dream worth holding dear – Solid Bond In Your Heart: A People’s History of The Jam

Posted on November 26, 2024 by writewyattuk

It’s been a pretty frantic time, a family move from Lancashire to a new base in deepest Cornwall this time last month compounded by further edits and late-door shenanigans regarding my latest publication, Solid Bond In Your Heart: A People’s History of The Jam.

A labour of love for much of this year, and the follow-up to my Slade tome for the same publisher, Spenwood Books, it’s finally come together… to a point where – victims of our success – a large chunk of material is being held back for a second volume I’m already working on, a more personalised and in-depth take on the story of Woking’s finest, of which I’ll let on more nearer the time.

In the meantime, the book I was initially commissioned to compile and edit alongside publisher and fellow author, Richard Houghton, is almost ready to roll off the presses, and includes – I can now proudly reveal – a foreword from a certain Paul Weller and an afterword from much-loved broadcaster, presenter and Jam fan Gary Crowley. That, plus more than 500 Jam fan memories, lots of great fan photos, and added words from notable insiders, including select quotes from Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler plus the likes of Steve Brookes, Mick Talbot and Nicky Weller, all from my past feature-interviews. Fans and friends, musical peers, those they met on the road and joined the tours… they’re all in there.

If you’ve already pre-ordered Solid Bond in Your Heart, thank you. Your support is much appreciated. If you haven’t, you have until this Saturday, 30th November to place an order for the book if you want your name (or that of someone else) printed within as a sponsor. For more details, click on this link.

In short, it’s fair to say the finished product provides a gripping portrait of ‘the best f*cking band in the world’, as John Weller put it, concentrating on not only the music, but also the clothes, the legacy, the vibe and sheer(water) drama of those halcyon days, from the band’s pub and working men’s club days on the South-East scene to that elevation to London then national and international stardom, following the story up to the end of 1982 when this vital Surrey three-piece parted ways, going out at the very top of their game.

The book goes to print in early December, with publication set for mid-May, but those who pre-order should receive their copies by mid-February. This past couple of weeks I’ve scoured the current pdf version and can confirm it’s a winner. So many great tales and lots of wonderful added colour. I’m really excited about this book, and hope you’ll love it too.

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The Undertones / Ruts DC, Liverpool, Hangar 34

Posted on October 15, 2024 by writewyattuk
Thrill Me: The Undertones in live action at Hangar 34, Liverpool. Photo: Steve Watson

It’s always so good to catch The Undertones live, with last Thursday night no exception… exceptional as they always are. What’s more, this marked my official North-West big show farewell before an impending move to Cornwall. And coming on the back of Carter, Cook, Jones and Matlock a fortnight earlier in Manchester (reviewed here), it seemed particularly poignant for this long-term fan to catch Derry’s finest again for my 501st live encounter since 1980.

It all unfolded at a new venue to me, involving a stroll up from the Albert Dock, along Jamaica Street towards the city’s Baltic Triangle, taking a more circuitous route than necessary up and down Greenland Street before spotting the spacious but somehow intimate Hangar 34. But while this was my 19th Undertones outing since 1981 and 15th live sighting of the Mk.II line-up since 2000, I’d somehow missed out until now on special guests and fellow punk survivors Ruts DC, the openers for this English leg of the tour and the following dates in Sunderland and Sheffield.

Formed in 1977 as The Ruts, they enjoyed a fair bit of post-punk limelight, revered debut LP The Crack spending its sole week in the UK top 20 this week 45 years ago, on the back of summer of ’79 top-10 classic 45, ‘Babylon’s Burning’. Sadly, a year later we lost frontman Malcolm Owen to heroin, the band having amassed two more hit singles by then, posthumous compilation Grin and Bear It following shortly after.

They soon returned, reconvening as Ruts DC, and while the post-Owen line-up disbanded after two more LPs, originals John ‘Segs’ Jennings (bass) and Dave Ruffy (drums) were back by 2011 and continue to impress, skilfully blending a potent mix of punk, dub, rock and reggae, ‘defying the norm for decades’ as they put it.

Overcoming Anxiety: Ruts DC live at Hangar 34, Liverpool. Photo: Steve Watson

The appetite was clearly there, an earlier show in 2007 seeing Henry Rollins in Malcolm’s place at a benefit for fellow founder member Paul Fox, following his diagnosis of lung cancer (he died later that year, aged 56), an event also involving Tom Robinson, The Damned, Misty in Roots, UK Subs, Max Splodge, and John Otway.

These days Leigh Heggarty provides guitar duties for a formidable three-piece that went down well with this Merseyside audience. Personally, I see them as something of a cousin to The Members, that mix of influences inspiring the original punk movement key to their sound, not least a love of reggae. And as with JC Carroll and co., their new material fits well, not least 2016’s ‘Kill the Pain’ and 2022’s ‘Faces in the Sky’, the opener of that year’s Counter Culture? (the title track also aired at Hangar 34, along with fellow winner ‘Born Innocent’) and this evening’s entertaining set.

Ruts tracks ‘Something That I Said’ (first time I’d heard that new wave blast for a while), ‘S.U.S.’ and ‘Jah War’ also impressed in a dozen-song offering, and their skank-happy ‘Mighty Soldier’ positively smouldered. I prefer not to listen to bands before gigs these days, making their set choices more of a revelation, not trying to second-guess what’s coming. And it worked a treat here, ‘Staring at the Rude Boy’ certainly taking me back, while ‘West One (Shine on Me)’ – the last single with Malcolm – suggested where they were headed, and glorious debut 45 ‘In A Rut’ sounded as vital now and prompted a crowd singalong. All in all, I got a lot of it (out of it, out of it, out of it…).

And while I expected ‘Babylon’s Burning’ to signal their departure, there was time for a storming ‘Psychic Attack’, the opener of Music Must Destroy fusing the spirit of Damned classic ‘New Rose’ encased in Sixties sci-fi guitar on a number I could see The Rezillos – the next special guests on this tour (starting in Lincoln’s Engine Shed on Thursday 17th – take to live. Storming set, fellas. Here’s to many more.

Backstage Shenanigans: The Undertones (sans Michael) and Ruts DC backstage

There’s not much I can write about the Undertones that I haven’t scribbled down before, but seeing them is always a joyous affair, and this adventure on Greenland Street was rather epic. It’s never enough in a live review to list a set then sit back… but I was tempted to. They started with ‘Jimmy Jimmy’ and ‘Girls That Don’t Talk’ and we barely drew breath from there.

Much as I love the first two long players, I’m pleased to see them give further gravitas to the latter-day fare too (from the first and second incarnations of the band), ‘The Love Parade’ there to savour in its purest form before modern ‘Tones classic ‘Thrill Me’ set us off again. ‘Nine Times out of Ten’ and ‘Tearproof’ then had us hurtling back to Hypnotised before exclamation mark punk classic ‘Male Model’ and one of the finest singles by any band, ‘You Got My Number (Why Don’t You Use It!) stopped us in our tracks, the latter released 45 years and one day ago, yet still flooring me.

Then there was Billy Doherty’s wondrous ‘Wrong Way’ and Positive Touch two-piece, ‘It’s Going to Happen’ and ’Crisis of Mine’. I’m always caught out by a couple of songs I don’t expect to pull at my heart-strings so much, and that was the first tonight. Sublime. Speaking of which, we then got the whole of the Teenage Kicks EP, the iconic title track followed by ‘True Confessions’, ‘Smarter Than You’ and ‘Emergency Cases’. At that point, I reckon I needed a lie-down, let alone Paul McLoone and his somehow no longer 21-year-old bandmates. But a rather bizarre intro to ‘Wednesday Week’ after confusion on Billy’s part (not as if Mickey Bradley mentioned it… much) led eventually to that and (as I understand it) fellow wonder ‘You’re Welcome’ being dropped. Ah, well, there’s always next time… not as if I take any of this for granted.

Accordingly, the handbrake was back off for John O’Neill‘s ‘Here Comes the Rain’, which somehow gets better with every airing, then – on a night when the temperature dropped and all the talk was of Northern Lights, ‘Here Comes the Summer’. We were revving up for a big finish by now, lost in the moment on ‘I Gotta Getta’ from the first LP and ‘Dig Yourself Deep’ from the most recent, ‘Family Entertainment’ (deeper in the set than I’d envisaged) and further eponymous elpee delight ‘(She’s a) Runaround’, then ‘When Saturday Comes’, the O’Neill brothers on top form with those searing guitar lines, Billy keeping up on drums and sometimes powering ahead, Mickey’s bass lines continuing to leave me sent, and the ever-theatrical Paul in his element among it all, his banter with Mickey always a bonus. Besides, as Damian O’Neill once put it so succinctly, ‘It’s never too late to enjoy dumb entertainment’.

Digging Deep: The Undertones live at Hangar 34, Liverpool. Photo: Steve Watson

‘Oh Please’ is another example of how Mickey can also still come up with classy songs, and from there we were firing towards a big finish, ‘Girls That Don’t Talk’, ‘Hypnotised’ and ‘I Know a Girl’ as great as ever, ‘Listening In’ another somehow nailing the experience for me, then ’Get Over You’ bringing us to our latest climax with the North of Ireland’s foremost Humming, Leaping and Minging fraternity.

Back they came, ‘Mars Bars’, ‘More Songs About Chocolate and Girls’, ‘Jump Boys’ and ‘’My Perfect Cousin’ a total joy. And okay, that ended up sounding like the list I suggested I wasn’t going to scribble down, but if you’ve read this far anyway, you’ll know you missed out if you weren’t there, and it might reflect what you saw if you were. Furthermore, it might inspire you – if you need that push – to book tickets for any of the remaining dates (see details on the poster below), with either The Rezillos or the Mighty Wah-nderful Pete Wylie in tow.

So, thank you, one and all, and adios for now, Liverpool. I’ll be back, I‘m pretty sure of it, but what a way to go out, three decades after moving to Lancashire. I’m still in a spot. Their spell isn’t broken.

For the latest from The Undertones, links for tickets and details of the band’s live LP, available exclusively at their remaining dates, head here. and for details of the next Ruts DC shows, try their Facebook link.

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Frank Carter, Paul Cook, Steve Jones and Glen Matlock – Manchester Academy

Posted on September 25, 2024 by writewyattuk
Pistol Packing: Frank Carter leads from the front at Manchester Academy. Photo: Prentice James

The spirit of ’76, ‘77 and all that written large on a stage in M13. I give you Manchester Academy, 24th September 2024, where punk met heritage rock ’n’ roll, with added panto and theatrical moments, all before an adoring crowd of mostly old ’uns but a few spellbound young faces too.

Two nights after a Glasgow Academy appearance, this was part four of a five-date sell-out tour on the back of a two-evening fundraiser in Shepherd’s Bush in mid-August, and a proper night to remember, and what a way to bring up my 500th gig (no doubt give or take a few I’ve failed to scribble down since 1980) – a three-quarter reunion of the Sex Pistols taking place just off Oxford Road, marking a rather special personal North West farewell outing for a punter who celebrated his 10th birthday the day before Never Mind the Bollocks first hit the shops.

I’ve been lucky enough to interview Paul Cook and John Lydon in recent years, and both were great company and came over so well. But I’d never managed to catch them live. On the afternoon of this epic show though, moving a stack of Mojo magazines as part of my dreaded downsize reorganisation, I lifted the top of a pile and startlingly had Lydon, Cook, Jones and Matlock staring back at me (some more menacingly than others) from 2008’s reunion. As if asking, ‘You coming, or what?’ It was meant to be.

Bass Instinct: Glen Matlock and Frank Carter at Manchester Academy. Photo: Prentice James

And while Johnny has his own thing going on right now, deputy Frank Carter does the job superbly. More to the point for me, thankfully I’ve a good mate still savvy enough (and quick and patient enough) to have somehow snared tickets during that sell-out morning rush a few weeks back. Credit due to Prentice James, who was taking in key punk bands at the Electric Circus in 1977 at the age of 14, but missed out on the Pistols… so here was his chance to triumphantly make up for that, albeit 47 years later.

In my case, my first live gig was in the Summer of 1980, aged 12, at a village hall in deepest rural Surrey. I already knew my way around the new wave jungle at that point, thanks to an older brother and his mates, and the band I saw that night – Blank Expression, schoolboys themselves but crucially two years older – exuded punk rock for me, pitched somewhere between the Pistols, Buzzcocks, The Damned, and The Stranglers. They sadly lost their lead singer, my old friend Chris Try, last year, at far too young an age, but back in the day he carried that trademark Lydon sneer to a tee, and Frank Carter too has that quality, adding the energy required here. Mind you, let’s face it, how wrong can you go backed by a band featuring legendary trio Cook, Jones and Matlock?

We headed for stage right front not long before showtime, so were in a prime spot to catch Glen, effortlessly cool as you like, in full flow, even if the initial soupy nowt but bass and drums sound belied the fact that Steve Jones was just the other side of that speaker stack, giving it his six-string all. But from LP and gig opener ‘Holidays in the Sun’ and ‘Seventeen’ onwards there were miles of smiles, frequent audience sing-a-longs, and it was nostalgia central without added schmalz… even if we were inevitably dragged into the dewy-eyed sentimentality of just being there to drink it all in.

Stood in the lobby of the Students’ Union building next door, earlier, looking out for Pren, that line ‘Now I’ve got as reason, and I’m still waiting’ sprang to mind. And any doubts I might have had about the prospect of this line-up were soon put to bed, our pre-show anticipation truly matched by the performance.

Jonesy stepped forward enough through the show to see plenty of him, and eventually the sound improved where we were stood. The Lonely Boy from Shepherd’s Bush and Battersea and his bandmates adored by 2,500 like-minded souls. Meanwhile, as if perched above a gap in the PA’s twin towers, I occasionally caught sight of a super-animated Cook, that craggy visage every bit as recognisable as the glorious trademark pounding beats he supplied. And then there was Frank, seemingly not at all over-awed at any responsibility on his far younger shoulders (okay, he’s 40, but his bandmates are now in their late 60s), adding a full-on live presence and enough youth to make this work. All of that would count for little without a voice, of course, but he pulls that off too, doing his own thing without having to resort to any Stars in Their Eyes take on Lydon. Just the way it had to be – there’s only one Johnny Rotten and only one John Lydon. What’s more, Hemel Hampstead Frank’s antics allow his more illustrious bandmates to just get on with their own thing, heads up and occasionally down no nonsense, mindless boogie (hats off there to Manchester’s late great CP Lee, of Alberto Y Lost Trios Paranoias fame)… and what a glorious racket they all still make.

I can’t recall when Frank first lunched himself into the crowd. Glen didn’t look too worried. Was it at the start of ‘Pretty Vacant’? That was certainly one of many glorious moments, as of course was fellow crowd pleaser ‘God Save the Queen’. Soon, Frank was surfing on a sea of upturned hands, and then he disappeared… but the strong vocals remained. He eventually returned though, and the second time around he helped form a rather chaotic circle out there in the melee (I knew he was there, but all I could really see was a punter with a Rebellion-like punk cockerel cut going round and round, like a demented shark closing in) on ‘Holidays in the Sun’ flip-side ‘Satellite’. Jonesy, peering into the crowd at the end of that number, enquired if ‘Frankie Baby’ was staying put for the next ‘un, ‘No Feelings’. He decided he was , and I’m not even sure if he was back in time for the start of ‘No Fun’. They were certainly having fun though, all four of them I reckon.

The full set? Well, it comprised all of Never Mind The Bollocks, a couple of B-sides and The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle’s stand-out ‘Silly Thing’ plus first encore ‘My Way’ (Frank owning the vocal like Sid never truly did, his outfield bandmates sat down until the climax). And from the aforementioned opener right through to rousing show-stopper and LP closer ‘EMI’, before a brief exit (I could see Jonesy between stage and dressing room, and he seemed a little stiff, shall we say, the workout clearly punishing, but certainly looked fresher and fitter than a decade or so ago), it was a blast, the set inevitably ending with ’Anarchy in the UK’, still so fresh 48 years give or take a few weeks since it was first nailed in the studio at Wessex Sound. What a great night. Cheers, lads. You’ve been missed. Those with tickets for the remaining show tomorrow night at Kentish Town Forum (Thursday 26 September) are in for a treat.

Four Most: Paul Cook, Glen Matlock, Frank Carter, Steve Jones take a bow. Photo: Prentice James
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Slady – Vinyl Tap, Preston

Posted on August 26, 2024 by writewyattuk
Tapping On: Slady in live action at Vinyl Tap, Preston. Photo: Alan Doyle

Can it really be a staggering 44 years this weekend since Slade’s Reading Festival rebirth? Apparently so, the Black Country’s finest spectacularly seeing off the critics in what proved to be the inspiration for an 11th-hour career resurrection, acceptance from a hard-nosed hard rock crowd paving a way for what turned out to be three final years of live shows for Nod, Jim, Dave and Don, that appearance the launchpad for a bolted-on couple of phases of the band, with more hits and more unforgettable live shows.

At the age of 15 I was lucky enough to see one of those shows, the band in full pomp at Hammersmith Odeon in December 1982, the classic line-up only touring once more in the UK from there. That marked my lucky seventh live outing since the summer of 1980, while Friday night was, (give or take a few I’ve failed to record) No.499, and it was somewhat poignant that it involved all-female four-piece Slady, a band that for my eyes and ears carry the true spirit of Slade all these years on, and of whom I heartily recommend a night or two in the company of.

It was great to see Noddy back on stage after his recent health problems last summer in Salford with Tom Seals and his big band. I’ve also had the pleasure of long chats in recent years with Dave, Don and Jim, and it’s lovely to see them all still working on various projects. But when it comes to full-on live spectacles that take you back to the beating heart of Slade, look no further than a cracking act with roots in South Wales, Southend-on-Sea, East Sussex and West Norfolk, on this occasion pointing towards the Magnetic North (a trip to a gig on the Fylde coast at St Annes Music Festival following) at a launch night for their latest single.

In my case that only involved a 15-mile round-trip from my Lancashire base, at a watering hole new to me in the heart of Preston’s university quarter, the Vinyl Tap on Adelphi Street not far off equidistant from three more venues that have played an important part in my gigging years around the city – The Ferret (‘saved’ last year from closure by a heart-warming Music Venue Trust-backed community campaign), The Adelphi, and currently dormant ex-uni hub 53 Degrees. And the Tap is another winner on this evidence, the kind of pub outlet sorely needed by emerging and established acts and punters alike.

Platform Roots: Slady get down and get with it at Vinyl Tap in Preston. Photo: Prentice James

True, in this case, the clientele was largely older, but there was enough youth in the headliners’ line-up to fool most of us that we were back in Slade’s early Seventies pomp, an impressive turnout welcomed on board a veritable time machine on a night when the girls’ infectious treatment of such classic songs brought miles of smiles, their love of performing, meticulous appreciation for the finer points of a grand back catalogue, and a storming live show plain for all to see, hear and taste.

Must I paint you a picture, as Billy Bragg asked? Well, here we have four consummate professionals who not only look the part but also nail the sound and (yep, that word again) spirit of the originals, bringing out the best of that wonderful Holder/Lea repertoire (the occasional Powell classic also featured) and live electricity of the band themselves in those halcyon days.

I’ll start with self-dubbed Gobby Holder, aka Danie, who really rules the roost (admit it, you said that in a Neville Holder style, right?) and was on fine form, that amazing voice (a Welsh thing, right?) leaving first-timers and regulars alike open-mouthed, the lady towering over us in killer platform boots, Nod’s trademark red shirt, braces, check trousers and mirrored top hat get-up (and get-with-it) wonderfully conveyed. At times, I worry for that vocal treatment (for instance, she seemed to have nowhere to go on ‘Born To Be Wild’, having opened on such a high note that the glass ceiling needed gaffer-taping back together within a minute), but she saw the night out in style.

Then there’s Jem Lea (Wendy), to her right and our left, ever dependable, laying down such stonking basslines that make you realise – not as if many of us needed reminding – how beautifully constructed Jim’s songs are. And as well as those cracking harmonies and backing vocals, she also steps up to the mic for the undervalued ‘When the Lights Are Out’, the Slade single that got away.

New Noize: The latest addition to the catalogue, courtesy of Sladydor Records

It’s something of a cliché to talk about engine rooms in bands, but Jem’s underpinning task is made far fluent through Slady’s stand-in Donna Powell (Kēra), the youngest of the quartet (I’d venture) in her element back there in Don-esque waistcoat, the smiles on band faces somewhat infectious, even catching out the more jaded live show veterans and miserable gits among us. And then there’s Davina Hill (Dawn), again playing a part to perfection – visually and sonically, bringing new life to H’s guitar parts and injecting plenty of her own innate stage presence into the mix. Much more than just a six-string denizen in eye-catching silver catsuit. Sparkling, to be sure.

As for that set-list, I never wrote a word all night, so bear with me, but with their musical prowess and stage allure where could they go wrong? ‘Take Me Bak ‘Ome’ set us on the right track, and from there, hearts regularly skipped random beats, with many highlights. ‘Coz I Luv You’, ‘Look Wot You Dun’, ‘Mama Weer All Crazee Now’, ‘Bangin’ Man’, ‘Skweeze Me, Pleeze Me’… the latter’s tweaked lyrics placing us firmly into a brave new century, Gobby letting it be known, ‘When a girl’s meaning ‘Yes’, she says, ‘Yes’ (not ‘No’)!’

On we went, the magic of Slade Alive brought to life on ‘Hear Me Calling’, ‘Know Who You Are’ and the afore-mentioned Steppenwolf cover. Hell, they even made ‘We’ll Bring the House Down’ and ‘Run Run Away’ sound cool. Some feat, that. I’ve a feeling, scribbling this now, there was ‘Move Over’ and ‘Just a Little Bit’ too, but maybe I dreamt that. The power of Guinness Zero, perhaps. And of course, B-sides were always important for Slade, so we got an outing for self-penned ‘Dig Me’, from their take on ‘Cum on Feel the Noize’, much of the calibre of those classic original flipsides. And somewhat as a tribute to Reading ’80 there were teases about ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’ being played on an August Bank Holiday weekend, before the band instead launched into its B-side, ‘Don’t Blame Me’.

Another personal highlight was ‘Gudbuy t’Jane’, their sign-off before a nailed-on encore featuring the new single and ‘Get Down and Get With It’. And while I might have got some of that out of order, that’s not important. Long may they continue to rock it, roll it, and reign over us. Nod bless our Slady.  

Slady’s Gobby Holder and Jem Lea, aka Danie and Wendy, feature in this scribe’s Wild! Wild! Wild! A People’s History of Slade. You probably knew that, but wait… you’ve not yet got a copy? Well, now’s the time to remedy that, messaging me or ordering direct via the publisher’s link.

You can also order Slady’s new single here, following them online via Facebook, Instagram, and their own website, seeing where they’re at next (next up, I understand, is The Betsey Trotwood in London EC1 on Sunday 8th September, Gobby and Davina rocking out live acoustic Slade tunes in the company of fellow Slade author Daryl Easlea. And you can catch the promo video for the new single, shot at The Marquis in Covent Garden, here.

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Echoes of The Bunnymen – Preston, The Continental

Posted on August 11, 2024 by writewyattuk
Distant Echoes: Echoes of The Bunnymen at the Conti. Photo: Lottie Wyatt

I was nervous enough ahead of this live show, let alone the band. Four fellas with deserved acclaim for their own adventures in music tackle a tribute set to a much-loved Liverpool outfit with such a revered back catalogue… and then word gets out just before stage time that the legendary guitarist behind that iconic group has showed up to see just what’s in store.

As I caught up with a couple of mates in the corridor on the approach to the Boatyard venue at the rear of The Conti, there was Scott Carey, bass player of some repute (latterly of West on Colfax and prior to that Paris Angels) balancing a couple of pints on his way past.

‘Ah, didn’t expect to see you here,’ I remarked, with a little of that poorly executed dry humour that is often my downfall.

‘And I didn’t expect Will Sergeant to be here,’ he responded, a little of that thousand yard stare associated with Viet vets in his eyes.

A few minutes later, queuing to go through, there’s past WriteWyattUK interviewee Will in front. What must he have been thinking… and what must the band have been wondering? Too late to pull out now. And yet, any fears on ours or their part were soon proved unfounded, this very public unveiling of Echoes of the Bunnymen – comprising WriteWyattUK favourites The Amber List with the aforementioned guest bass player – something of a triumph, and hopefully to be repeated again soon.

They didn’t go about this as any ‘run of the mill’ tribute act might. l was going to start this post with, ‘I don’t usually do covers bands, but…’ I’m sure I’ve already done that though. And in this case, we’re talking a four-piece of considerable merit and pedigree with a proper respect for the original group and the songs covered, their set spread across four vital LPs between 1980 and 1984 that paved the way and influenced so much more great post-punk indie magic beyond.

I guess as I knew he was there, I was listening – in my head – with Will’s ears and eyes, wondering just what he might make of it all. Yet if he or us were just expecting hits, we’d have been pleasantly mistaken. ‘Going Up’ and ‘Show of Strength’ saw us away, followed by my first real highlight, ‘Heads Will Roll’, all the proof needed that we were in for a storming gig, ‘Turquoise Days’ then leading to the wondrous ‘Silver’ before ‘Stars Are Stars’ and ‘Crocodiles’ brought us to the sublime ‘Ocean Rain’.

As is often the case at such social events, softer touches lead to incessant talking closer to the bar, but that was neatly shut down – with more polite humour than most of us could manage – by frontman Mick ‘Mac’ Shepherd, that latter fourth LP title track reminding me I’m long overdue in playing that wonderful album in full again, to dive back into its many depths.

Honourable mentions for the afore-mentioned Scott Carey and drummer Simon Dewhurst. Les Pattinson and Pete De Freitas’ shoes, and all that. As for Mick, his voice lends itself well to the experience, and not at one point did I feel this was beyond any of them. Turns out Tony Cornwell, on lead guitar, didn’t know Will was there until after. Probably a good thing on his part, confidence wise. He certainly cracked it though, and word has it the guest of honour loved it, fully endorsing the project and by all accounts happy to bask in the glory of those songs from a distance (not least a few they don’t tend to play these days). He was certainly swapping notes by the bar later.

There were plenty of A-list hits, ‘Killing Moon’ and ‘Seven Seas’ lovingly rolled out before ‘Villiers Terrace’ led to ‘The Puppet’ and ‘Do It Clean’, then ‘The Cutter’. ‘Rescue’ was in there somewhere too. Wonderful. ‘Is this the blues I’m singing?’ asked Mick. Certainly was, and in some style.

They’d hardly walked a few yards from the stage before they were back to close out, ‘Pictures on My Wall’ leading to a lap of honour on ‘Bring on the Dancing Horses’. Hopefully we’ll see them back again soon, and a fair few of us will be there again. ‘Wherever they may roam,’ you could say.  

Special Guest: Will Sergeant after the show with Tony Cornwell. Photo: Scott Carey

For more about Echoes of the Bunnymen and forthcoming shows, head here.

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