THE JAM: ABOUT THE YOUNG IDEA. LAUNCH PARTY at SOMERSET HOUSE

Paul Weller and Martin Freeman

The Jam: About The Young Idea is a new comprehensive exhibition dedicated to one of Britain’s best loved bands. Or, in the words of Paul Weller’s father which greet entrants painted in huge letters, “The best fucking band in the world.” 

Whichever way you slice it, during their five-year and six-album recording career, The Jam achieved that rare balance of attaining huge commercial success whilst maintaining their integrity. Much has been written and said about Weller’s decision to split the band in 1982 but to have continued without his heart in it would have made a mockery of the band’s honesty and openness. It was the right thing to do and in keeping with their/his ethical code.

That doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have a little reminisce now and again this exhibition provides the perfect opportunity to reflect on those days. It also offers a look at what young Britain was like for many during the 1970s and early 80s. With the entire band and the Weller family opening their archive plus items from collector Den Davis, and curated by Nicky Weller, Tory Turk and Russell Reader it’s packed with memories.

The launch party was last night and thanks to Mrs Monkey’s contacts and the kindness of photographer Martyn Goddard and his wife Bev, we were in for an early view and to hobnob with an array of obvious and less-obvious guests. After passing Bar Italia Scooter Club’s line-up at the gates we wandered into the courtyard of Somerset House and a quick scan revealed, among others: Mick Talbot, Martin Freeman, Paul Cook, Glen Matlock, the Strypes, Gem Archer, Mark Powell, Jeremy Vine, Steve Craddock, Paul Whitehouse, Mark Lamaar, Matt Berry, the grey haired bloke out of Phoneshop, some Mods, the occasional female and, wait for it, Trevor & Simon.

Yet the very first person we spotted was Bruce Foxton and naturally we nabbed him for a photo and asked what he thought of the exhibition. He still hadn’t been in to see it. Bruce, probably wary he was going to get accosted all night, wasn’t very chatty and appeared slightly disorientated so we left him alone before I could ask him to explain that “Freak” single. As a kid I always thought he was quite tall but he’s not, he just jumped high.

After a few glasses of champagne it was time to mooch around the exhibition. It had everything you’d expect: items of clothing (boating blazers, Union Jack jackets, suits, bowling shoes, “Eton Rifles” jacket, boxing boots etc); instruments (row of Rickenbackers including the Wham!, the red one with “I Am Nobody” scratched into the body, the black one, Bruce Foxton’s white bass from “Town Called Malice”, Rick Buckler's drum kit etc); posters, fanzines and music press front covers; photos, badges etc.

All well and good but the real treasure came in the early rooms (think there were six in total) which had gone through Paul Weller’s teenage drawers and uncovered his early dreams and schemes. Like many (guilty) he’d drawn himself in cartoon format (“The Adventures of Paul The Mod”); designed early ideas for imaginary single and album covers (guilty); sketched a row of Black Power fists (“Right On Brothers”); and made attempts at poetry and songs. These were circa 1972-3, when Weller was about fourteen. He had it all worked out but unlike most of us dreamers had the steely determination to see it through. The family photos and pictures of a kipper-tied Jam attempting to entertain working men's clubs are a treat too.  

Martyn Goddard was a photographer for Polydor (starting with Queen in 1973, luckily he moved onto better things...) and worked with The Jam all the way from In The City to Sound Affects and chatted us through some of his work: the picture of Bond Street tube station at midnight, the In The City wall, strolling down Carnaby Street, his own jukebox on the sleeve of Sound Affects which he still has and uses. Martyn said he knew right from the start the band were special as they had something about them and everything came directly from them. They weren’t controlled by managers or external forces, it was simply them and they knew what they wanted. Although Martyn saw them progress from new band with a debut record to a having records enter the charts at number one he didn’t really see a change in them as people. It was noticeable in Martyn’s images that although Weller was the creative driving force the photographs were always of the three of them. They – Paul, Bruce, Rick – were a band. Martyn suggested Paul felt strongly tied to the fact they were a band and that was a contributing factor in splitting to allow him greater freedom, unencumbered (my word, not Martyn’s) by the other two. I don't think there's any argument in that. More of his work can be seen in a separate exhibition, Golden Faces: Photographs of The Jam 1977-80 by Martyn Goddard at Snap Galleries and in a new book, Growing Up With The Jam.

I wouldn’t have put much money on Paul Weller attending the launch do but he was there. There were scores of Wellers in fact. Getting access to him was nigh on impossible though as he was scuttled in and then out by security. He did grab a few folk for a hug, a couple of photos, a photo opportunity with Martin Freeman - who rather than prepare for his forthcoming role as Steve Marriott had come as Max Headroom - and then off to a secret hideaway away from pestering acolytes desperate to touch the hem of his garment. Not sure about the blue lensed shades but he looked fit and well. I cannot answer Mrs Monkey’s query as to whether he uses a spray tan with any great authority.

Back outside and on to the free beer we had a good chat with Paul Cook about the Sex Pistols and their contribution to Britain’s history; working with Edywn Collins; and getting the Professionals back together (Cook and Steve Jones, not Bodie and Doyle). Author and man-about-town Mark Baxter and I chewed on the idea of an equivalent Style Council retrospective, something I put to Mick Talbot shortly afterwards (I can work fast sometimes).

Mick didn’t really think there would be much call for a Style Council exhibition in this country but Italy or Japan might be more accommodating. Ever the Internationalists the Style Council. Like Paul Cook, Mick wasn’t a hoarder of stuff but did have a few pieces knocking around. “Haven’t you got a pair of your old espadrilles in the bottom of a wardrobe?” Mick couldn’t confirm that. I should say this was the third time I’ve spoken with Mick and he’s always been interesting and good fun. He also spoke about playing on The Jam’s version of “Heatwave” (I love that version) and memories of joining the band at the Lyceum to do it live. He sounded like a Jam fan, just like the rest of us.

The Jam: About The Young Idea is at Somerset House, London. Open daily until 31 August 2015, admission £9.50.

Golden Faces: Photographs of The Jam 1977-80 by Martyn Goddard at Snap Galleries, 12 Piccadilly Arcade, SW1 from 1 July to 8 August 2015 (Tuesday to Saturday), admission free.

Details of Growing Up With… The Jam can be found here.   

From The Jam. Bruce Foxton's attempt at reforming the band aren't going to plan...

LAMBERT & STAMP (2015)

The Who’s early managers, who guided them from cult Mod status to all-conquering rock superstars, were an unlikely pairing. Yet Kit Lambert, upper class son of classical composer and conductor Constant Lambert, and Chris Stamp, working class son of a stoker on the boats from Plaistow, made a complimentary and formidable team.  

Working in the lower reaches of the film industry they shared a passion to make their own movie and settled upon finding a new pop group to centre their idea. When Lambert passed a row of scooters outside the Railway Tavern, popped his head in and witnessed both the High Numbers and their audience, he’d found what they were after. As Chris Stamp explains in James D. Cooper’s directorial debut documentary, Lambert and Stamp, they didn’t know what they wanted, more what they didn’t want, and misfits Townshend, Daltrey, Moon and Entwistle defied the accepted conventions of the time in their look, sound and attitude. It began as a perfect marriage.

They made a terrific partnership with the band, now reverting back to their previous Who moniker, willing to join in with any excitable plan their new backers concocted, even if their original film idea gently faded into the background as they became managers instead. Kit Lambert's encouraging and influencing helped bolster Pete Townshend's creative song writing in a way his bandmates couldn't and was fundamental to The Who's development. The story is told through interviews with Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, Richard Barnes, Heather Daltrey, Terence Stamp, Robert Fearnley-Whittingstall, Irish Jack etc, archive footage and, best of all, Chris Stamp, whose good looks, enthusiasm, cocky charm and charisma shine through; he could've sold anything to anyone.  

What also is evident is how exciting and fearless they all were in the 60s. If they had an idea they’d go for it. Fancy making a film; managing a pop group; signing Jimi Hendrix to a record label they’d only just thought of; making a rock opera? Yeah, come on, let’s go. Money was no object, insofar as they didn’t have any and racked up huge debts with little regard to any future consequences. Everything was lived for in the moment. The turning point came five years into their relationship and the enormous success of Tommy and then finally having more money than even they could spend.

Things fell apart in the 70s and relationships broke down, exacerbated by Kit’s drinking and drug habit; the appearance of Bill Curbishley managing affairs in a more money oriented manner; and the band giving Tommy to Ken Russell rather than allowing Lambert and Stamp to finally make the film they’d always dreamed of. Keith Moon in this period comes out with a lot of credit as he refused to sign any papers to terminate the band’s relationship with Kit and Chris, mindful of what they'd achieved together. Days after Keith died the job was done with brutal efficiency.

One quibble in the film is the failure to mention Peter Meaden and his influence shaping the Who. When Lambert clapped eyes on them, peering through the darkness of a Harrow and Wealdstone pub packed with Mods on a Tuesday evenning, it was in part due to Meaden creating the band in his own image and deserves acknowledgement for gifting the raw product to Lambert and Stamp who nurtured it into something far wider reaching. Also, the circumstances of Lambert's death in 1981 are brushed over. Chris Stamp died from cancer in 2012. Those things aside, it’s a wonderful film for fans of The Who, the 60s, and dreamers and schemers everywhere.  

Lambert & Stamp is released in UK cinemas on 15 May 2015.

THE WHO HITS 50 at the O2 ARENA, LONDON

The buzz of riding a Lambretta is one of life’s great pleasures. It doesn’t matter where it is but I always get an extra kick when cruising through the streets of Shepherd’s Bush and specifically along the Goldhawk Road. In my little semi-fantasy world it is still the mid-1960s, this is the heart of Mod territory, and local band The Who are playing later for the umpteenth time at the Goldhawk Social Club. Although The Who are known as a Shepherd’s Bush band, Roger Daltrey was the only one who genuinely lived there. In The Who documentary, Amazing Journey, Pete Townshend called him “the king of the neighbourhood”.

This scruffy stretch of the capital has, as far as I can tell, remained- until now - largely unchanged. Cooke’s Pie and Mash Shop – the one in Quadrophenia - has clung on since 1934; the interior of Zippy Café a couple of doors down is every inch an abandoned Wimpy bar; Goldhawk Road tube station remains little more than a rickety shack; and, best of all, the Goldhawk Social Club has only tweaked its name slightly to the Shepherd’s Bush Club and now displays a blue Heritage Foundation plaque honouring The Who. With the likes of Cooke’s now sold to developers of Shepherd’s Bush market these are the last knockings of the area as it currently stands.

I rode past the Goldhawk again this weekend, exactly fifty years from when The Who walked through the hanging plastic drapes in the club to play a gig on Saturday 20^th March 1965 after hot-footing it from attending the opening show of the Tamla Motown Revue at the Finsbury Park Astoria. I know, what a night, lucky bleeders. I wasn’t there rabbiting amongst the West London Mods from the Bush, Acton, Notting Hill, West Drayton, Paddington and so on but I did, honestly, see The Who yesterday.

The O2 Arena in Greenwich is less than fifteen miles from the Goldhawk but they could be on different planets and as gig experiences go they couldn’t be much more different. No chance of bumping into Pete Townshend having a piss here in this soulless corporate "village". The O2 is a 20,000 capacity venue and not one of those people, as far as I could tell, was blocked on amphetamines.  Prescription drugs, now that’s different. When folk scuffled to the loo, they rattled. Unlike Keith Moon and John Entwistle, not everyone died before they got old I’m pleased to say.

Of course, I wouldn’t usually dream of attending one of these huge cavernous monstrosities, but then again I can probably only count on my thumbs the bands I like who’d be able to fill somewhere like this, The Who being one. This was part of their The Who Hits 50 tour; supposedly their last extended jaunt around the globe. They’ve said this before so I won’t hold them to it. Half a century gone and it’s still too early to say farewell.

For over two hours straight Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend and some other blokes put on hugely enjoyable show. Roger and Pete were in a relaxed mood; jovial and offered plenty of expletive-ridden between-song banter creating an almost intimate atmosphere despite the grand scale. Roger played the affable, one-of-the-lads role and Pete switched from serious artist to money-accumulating rock star. When Roger thanked everyone for coming, “It woulda been really boring without ya”, Pete quips back “And we’d be a lot poorer”. He also said we’d paid three thousand pound a ticket, which wasn’t too far off.

They earned their dough though, playing a mostly predictable set with a few surprises chucked in. Pete mentions it’s supposed to be a hits show. “All four of them,” he says, “plus the three from CSI, and two rock operas”. That “I Can See For Miles” wasn’t a huge hit - “it’s a great song” - obviously still rankles and it’s plain to hear way. Some of the other earlier singles like “I Can’t Explain” and “Substitute”, as much as they made brilliant records, sounded slightly plodding in comparison the more complex later material.

“Love Reign O’er Me” was emotional; the mini-Tommy brilliant, still to my mind The Who’s pinnacle; the double whammy of “Baba O’Riley” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” is as good as big venue music gets. “Slip Kid” was unexpected; as was “So Sad About Us”; and “A Quick One, Whilst He’s Away” a welcome knee-trembler.

They’ve got to pace themselves these days so Roger’s microphone twirling was kept to minimum and Pete’s feet didn’t leave the floor although there was plenty of windmill action. Roger, bless him, couldn’t always hit the notes (it’s an unforgiving occupation being a lead singer in a shouty rock band; no one’s gonna notice a few bum chords or missed timings elsewhere) and he mentions the set list is a challenge emotionally as well as having to remember all Townshend’s lyrics. “Why couldn’t you write some easier songs?” he asks Pete. “Because I’m an intellectual,” came the reply, “you fucking cunt.”

The staging behind the band was superb. I always roll my eyes when people start talking about what a band’s backdrop and graphics and lighting was like – so bloody what? – but in this environment draping a union jack over a Marshall stack ain’t really gonna cut it, so hat’s off: these were a stylish and imaginative series of animations that complimented the songs. Some were very fancy and expensive looking yet the funniest was the simplest.  After Townshend gave his account of writing “Pictures of Lily” about wanking to old Lily Langtry postcards, the song is performed in front of a giant Keith Moon dressed in a wig and black bra. Should also say Zak Starkey’s “vision of ginger” behind the drums didn’t go unnoticed either. A nice touch.

After a closing “Magic Bus”, Roger apologised for a few gremlins throughout the show. For all the high-tech nature he appeared a touch put out he’d been given a B harmonica instead of a B Flat for “Baba O’Riley” and then suffered unwanted feedback with his harp during the last song. “But who gives a shit?” He’s fooling no-one this time. Roger Daltrey loves The Who and is fiercely proud of them. I love them too; they’re the kings of any neighbourhood. 

205 Goldhawk Road, Shepherd's Bush

MODERNISTS: A DECADE OF RHYTHM & SOUL DEDICATION (2015)

The 1965 cover image on Kent Records' new 24-track Modernists compilation features a quintet of young mods hanging around a coffee bar near Manchester's Twisted Wheel club which pounded to the happening new sound of soul and rhythm and blues. But as Ady Croasdell and Dean Rudland observe in their liner notes, the majority of records spun for mods throughout the country in the mid-60s came only via tracks given a UK release on labels such as London-American, Stateside, Sue and Pye International's R&B Series; imports from the US were few and far between. Modernists imagines which other singles might've made club playlists had they been more readily available.   

The two opening tracks, from 1967, set the tone. "Soul Jerk It, Baby" by Jeb Stuart and Lewis Clark's "Dog (Ain't A Man's Best Friend)" both could break into a burst of "Land Of A 1000 Dances" at the snap of a well executed soul clap. Although Kent reference their collection as "rhythm and soul", it's more what is usually known these days as "club soul", and I think there's subtle difference: "club soul" being the traditional Atlantic/Stax-a-like soul that has fallen out of favour for new breed modernists who are even less keen to shingaling, jerk or pony than their ancestors, preferring the shuffle of heavier blues-based or popcorn numbers (age and stamina of the club goer might have something to do with that...). Therefore those who, like me, purchase CDs with an ear on finding potential new 45s for their DJ sets might come away with slim pickings to energise a current dancefloor (although the tracks by at least Clifford Curry, Lil Bob and Gene Burks have already done so) but there's still plenty to enjoy in an imaginary 60s haunt of wide-eyed chatterboxes.

Robert Moore's "Harlem Shuffle" is a corking alterative version which would get the shoes scuffed in any dark basement and Bessie Banks' "(You Should Have Been A) Doctor" fits exactly the rhythm and soul description with it's uptempo beat and soulful vocals. Songwriters back then didn't fear lawsuits against copyright infringement - as they damn well now in light of the Thicke/William vs Gaye case - so many tunes, if not the songs themselves, are familiar. Clifford Curry's "Good Humour Man" bears more than a passing resemblance to Jimmy Hughes's "Neighbor, Neighbor"; Oliver Morgan's "Hold Your Dog" is a barely concealed thief of Rufus Thomas's "Walking The Dog"; Little Eva attempts to go all "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag" on "Dynamite"; and Timmy Wilson's previously unreleased "Long Ways To Go" offers the chance to do the Block a la "Long Tall Shorty".

Lil Bob's "I Got Loaded" is something I spun out regularly ten years ago and with its jumpy Louisianan rhythm is a perfect record when crossing over from soul and R&B into Jamaican 45s or, as it does here into more 50s swing territory with John Fred and the Playboys' "Shirley". Also, although recorded in circa '65, Clarence Daniels & Obie Jessie's "Got A Good Thing Going On" which - although I'm a big fan of Young Jessie -  would've sounded very dated had it been aired at the Twisted Wheel.  

The Pac-Keys "Stone Fox" is at the classier end of the scale with the ostracised Packy Axton showing his ma and uncle at Stax he could still cut a cool mod jazz R&B instrumentals without their help; and "Cat Dance" by The In Crowd similarly offers a cut that could nicely curl up at home on Kent's sister Mod Jazz series; as would Paul & Rick's organ blues "After Hours". In addition to the aforementioned foxes and cats, there's a veritable soul-zoo of animal magic here: three dogs, a cat, a crow and two monkeys. Chickens notable by their absence.

The standout track though is "Tingling" by Eddie Giles from 1968: slower, brooding, and more in keeping with the atmospheric club feel of today it sounds a little out of place on Modernists, which demonstrates that although there's a core mod club sound it's one which, over fifty years on, is still gently evolving.

Modernists: A Decade of Rhythm & Soul Dedication is released on CD by Kent Records. Out now. 

SUBBA CULTURE - ISSUE THREE

Born from the website of the same name, the latest issue of Subba Culture has hit the streets and it's the best one yet.

Whilst the internet version focuses predominately on pictorial evidence of the evolution of youth subcultures, Mark Hynds's fanzine contains well written and thoughtful articles on the same. There's an emphasis this time on how those movements spread from away from the main cities into other areas and the impact they had. The opening piece perceptively links the artwork of Jamie Reid (specifically his "two coaches" graphic) to the Medway music scene featured in the recent The Kids Are All Square book; John South discusses skinhead and suedehead styles after moving from London to Norfolk in 1972; Edward Ian Armchair describes the late-70s punk scene seen from the eyes of a resident of Tamworth in the West Midlands; and Peter Jachimiak provides a fascinating look at "Minets" - considered the early 60s French version of Mods. Not to exclude London, Rob Lee - the cover star of the (in)famous Mods Mayday '79 album - gives his recollections of that era. There's more besides, from desert boots to borstals.

Limited to 200 copies which are already flying out so get on this quick-smart. Click on Subbaculture for full details.   

BLOOD AND CARPET (2015)

Annie Burkin as Ruby in Blood and Carpet

Set in a mostly unswinging East London, Blood and Carpet is a new black and white kitchen-sink 60s B-movie Mod horror film. What's not to like, eh?

Written and directed by Graham Fletcher-Cook, it was made for a mere £3000 (you'd be hard pressed to buy a decent Lambretta for that) and shot over just ten days. Yet despite its minuscule budget it's still a gripping tale which opens with Ruby (played by Annie Burkin) and Lyle (Billy Wright) attempting to clean blood off their living room carpet and discussing how to dispose of the body plonked in the bathtub upstairs. That's about as much as I'm prepared to give away.

The film is shot in mix of stark light and dark shadows which adds to the sinister atmosphere as the story unfolds with the mystery of the body deepening. The two lead characters are well acted with some great lines (and period words and phrases which made me chuckle) and the introduction of Lyle's slimy brother Melvin (Frank Boyce) adds a creepy weirdness to proceedings. His voice alone is enough to want to give him a bloody good slap.

Although set in '67 no one would mistake this for being made then but that's not an issue here unless you're a complete anorak, the carefully constructed story itself is the main draw. The music though is provided by bands familiar to the various parts of the mod/60s scenes: especially nice to hear The Magnetic Mind play over the end credits; whilst The Petty Hoodlums, who appear in a pub scene, add a bit of cheek claiming the Haunted's garage punk classic "1-2-5" as their own. 

For such a modestly produced film Blood and Carpet far exceeded my expectations. It's out on Blu-Ray and available to stream online for the price of a bowl of jellied eels from 16th February 2015. To preorder and for more details check the  Blood and Carpet page. Here's the trailer.

THE SCENE UNSEEN - THE 100 CLUB, THURSDAY 7 NOVEMBER 1985

Andy Welsh, The Scene, 100 Club, 7 Nov '85

As 1.9 billion people turned on their television set on a sweltering Saturday afternoon on 13 July 1985 to watch Status Quo followed by the Style Council kick off Live Aid at Wembley Stadium, two hundred Mod kids were filtering their way into an upstairs room above a north London pub, grandly called the Savoy Ballroom, to watch - in a parallel universe, pointedly oblivious to what else was going on in the world - four of their bands. In order: The Wayout, The Moment, The Combine, and headliners and main attraction, The Scene.

Seeing how well the recent piece about The Rage and the mid-80s Mod scene was received, and in anticipation for this Friday's gig at the 100 Club, today we'll cast our minds back to remember The Scene.

Proud East Londoners with an adopted northerner (that's proper North: Hull) they cut a three singles - "Looking For Love", "Something That You Said" and a cover of "Good Lovin'". The finest 45 - and one of the best of the era - being the harmony driven pop-art splash "Something That You Said" backed with "Stop-Go", their paean to amphetamines, "Now I've got such a taste for... speed".

In an era when groups were cagey about being too closely associated with the dreaded "M" word, The Scene proudly proclaimed to the national music press, "We are the only Mod band". Which was one sure fire way of sacrificing any chance of greater success but endearing them greatly to their fellow brethren.

I saw them many times and loved their gigs; somehow they tied a jangle, that shook rather than jingled, to big Who powerchords and smashed guitars. You knew the guitar destruction was coming when Gary Wood put down his red Rickenbacker and picked up something less precious to bash through a set closer. The song which has stuck in my head most firmly all these years has been "Is She In Love (With Love)" which rather bizarrely and untypically sounds a bit like The Smiths. Me and my mates would come back from gigs singing that one on the tube journey home even though it took about 25 years to hear a recorded version, finally turning up on an album of Scene tracks and those of their previous incarnation, OO7, entitled Landscapes. 

These photos were taken at the 100 Club on 7 November '85. As you can read from my teenage scrawl below (you think I'm a bit anal about documenting things now, you should've seen me as a kid) it wasn't the most well attended gig and the next month Sounds announced the band would spilt after two years of "urgency, excitement, smashed guitars and a mountain of unpaid debts" which sounded very rock and roll.

Their farewell gig was another Saturday afternoon slot back in Tufnell Park on 22 February 1986. This one was packed, a great show, and saw excited kids invading the stage. With The Scene disappearing, the rest of the scene wasn't too far behind.

Reformed in 2010 with the full line-up intact, the band have a new EP due later this year and perform with The Rage at the 100 Club, Oxford Street, London this Friday 23rd January 2015. 

Gary Wood, The Scene, 7 Nov '85

Russell Wood, The Scene, 7 Nov '85

Andy Orr, The Scene, 7 Nov '85

Monkey Picks 1985 style

THE RAGE - THE MOD SUPERGROUP OF 1985 (AKA MY MOD STORY '84-'86)

Derwent, The Rage, 100 Club, 8 January 1985

Steve Moran, The Rage, 100 Club, 8 January 1985

As 1984 gave way to 1985 a "Mod supergroup" appeared on the scene and looked destined to lead the charge of the latest generation of Mod bands (or, to be more accurate, bands liked by Mods) springing up. The Rage featured Derwent Jaconelli (ex-Long Tall Shorty) who'd swapped his drumsticks for a microphone, Jeff Shadbolt (ex-Purple Hearts) on bass, Buddy Ascot (ex-The Chords) on drums and Steve Moran (ex-Long Tall Shorty) on guitar. On Friday 23rd January 2015 the band will celebrate with a 30th anniversary reunion gig - their first UK date in 25 years - at the 100 Club on Oxford Street.

Their first gig took place at the 100 Club on 18 December 1984 supporting a reformed Purple Hearts. Myself and school friends Clive and Jamie went along even though none of us were massive fans of the Purple Hearts (we had one of their records between us) but we'd recently started to go to gigs and this felt like a big deal in Mod circles so we were duty bound to go. Thank goodness we did. From the opening chords of The Rage's set the crowd went bananas. It's almost unbelievable now when I think of it. Here was a band nobody had heard before, playing songs nobody knew (apart from a few covers), and yet the atmosphere was akin to celebrating a last minute winner in a London derby. The energy from the band - and from Derwent in particular; like a bull in a china shop - translated to the crowd instantly and we leapt around and bundled into each other throughout every big ballsy song. It was love at first sight. So much so, one girl jumped on stage and whipped off her top and bra.

Us three kids sat crashed at the back of the club, on the floor, leaning against the wall; Cavern sta-press, Fred Perry jumpers, flight jackets drenched in sweat as we scrabbled together enough money for a drink to cool down. The Purple Hearts did their thing and we enjoyed them but they were from a different era and we felt a little separate from them. All we could talk about after was The Rage.

A few weeks later, 8 January 1985, The Rage were back at the 100 Club for a gig with Makin' Time. I didn't take my camera out very often as it was too bulky to fit in my pocket but made an exception occasionally and this was one of those times as you can see for the rubbishy photos above. Makin' Time, with their instantly snappy rhythm and soul, were good and throughout 1985 got better and better, culminating in their debut album and some incredible gigs during the summer. How "Here Is My Number" didn't make the charts to see them kicking balloons on Top Of The Pops is one of the great mysteries of the hit parade. Anyway, back to The Rage and they followed on where they left off in December, only this time TWO girls paraded their goods as the band knocked seven shades of shit out of "Shout". I was fifteen years old, in a famous rock and roll venue in the West End, watching a loud band nobody outside our little clique knew about, and stood open-mouthed as two half-naked girls shook their tuppennies in my direction. School was becoming less interesting by the day.

What made all this extra exciting was this was a brand new band and we were there from the beginning. Rather than being reliant on fans from their previous bands, The Rage supporters by and large were coming to them for who they were now rather than who'd they'd been. There was a keenness to follow them and see them play whenever possible, which was regularly. The 100 Club put them on almost monthly, including a support slot to Spencer Davis and Brian Auger which was an odd evening of generation clashes. The music press (especially Sounds which was supportive of the Mod scene at the time) were giving coverage and their own songs "Looking For You", "Temptation Into Temptation", "The Face", "Come On Now", "Our Soul" soon became familiar anthems. They hadn't released any records but it surely, we thought, wouldn't be long before we had something to play at home. We were half right.

One Saturday afternoon during a trip up to Carnaby Street I was in The Merc looking at the latest records and modzines. When I say "looking at", I mean this literally. Jimmy in The Merc had tantalising goods (The Action, Creation and Artwoods Edsel LPs for a start) on a display rack but erected a chrome crash barrier in front of them, leaving everything out of reach from prying hands. Young Mods would stand in front of the barrier and sheepishly ask this old geezer, "Please Jimmy, can I look at issue twelve of In The Crowd?" Jimmy didn't speak much English but understood money, would grin, nod, and gently pass it to you, under the tacit understanding that once touched, you were obliged to buy. I ended up with a stack of scruffily produced modzines as a result. On this particular day the music playing in the shop was a tape of the Rage at the 100 Club. I recognised it straight away. Jimmy said he'd be selling copies next week. Fantastic news. The following week they weren't ready. "Come back next week". I went back. Not ready. "Next week, sorry". Went back again. And again. After about six weeks Jimmy finally had the tapes. It was expensive and sounded like it was recorded from the back of the room inside a sports bag hidden under a pile of parkas then put onto the cheapest, poorest quality cassette money could buy. I doubt the band knew about it but it did the job for a while until the inevitable happened and the tape broke, all twisted and tangled inside the player, unable to be repaired. 

Despite our support, The Rage, wisely, were keen to avoid the "Mod supergroup" term, knowing the prejudices held against being associated with such an unlovable species. It was a balancing act for many that year: keeping the mod scene on side without alienating them or, probably more importantly, the rest of the world thus reducing the band's potential audience and income. As Jeff Shadbolt told Garry Bushell in Sounds: "We could say 'yeah, we're a Mod supergroup' and take the Mods' money. But that's not what we want - we want everyone's money!" Thirty years on I doubt they mind the tag.

For most of '85 everything looked rosy but they lost their impetuous with their failure to release any records. They were rightly ambitious and out for a suitable deal. Ascot and Shadbolt already knew some pitfalls of the music industry from their previous experiences and the band were taken under the wing of John Weller who wouldn't have held back with an opinion. The newly formed Countdown Records signed The Untouchables and Makin' Time, and to likes of me, ignorant to the Machiavellian workings of the music business, that would've made a suitable home for The Rage. It's interesting now to reflect on Derwent's words from July '85 when I wrote to him about the possibility: "The deal was shit, bad organisation of the whole label. We have no faith in the long term future of the label." In September it was revealed The Prisoners did sign to Countdown, and we all now know the ramifications of those inky signatures.

By November, weekly Mod newspaper The Phoenix List reported the latest Rage 100 Club gig attracted only 83 people, a far cry from the beginning of the year. I didn't go. Those later gigs weren't helped by no longer appeared with bands Mods wanted to see, so it became a less attractive proposal, especially for a band, as I've said, with no records to give them a boost. It's also worth adding The Rage weren't the only band experiencing a drop off in attendances at the 100 Club; the venue had milked the better bands dry, spread them too thin, and things were moving on fast anyway. 

That elusive record, a single, finally surfaced in well into 1986 on the tiny independent, Diamond, who'd hoovered up many Mod and 60s style bands during the past couple of years. As well as being too little, too late, and feeling after all that promise something of a defeat to sign to Diamond when they could've done that a year previously, it in no way represented the thump, the power, the rebel rousing stomp of The Rage as a live band. "Looking For You", their sole release, had a limp and weedy sound. Even now I can't understand why it sounds more like The Style Council rehearsing "Headstart For Happiness" than The Clash assaulting "Tommy Gun". It doesn't do them justice. But by then, even I wasn't listening. 

The last gig Rage gig I saw was on 9th August '86 at the Hammersmith Clarendon, again with Makin' Time. Clive and Jamie had long since bailed out of the Mod scene so I went with Sue, who was the only "Modette" (it was acceptable to use the term then) within miles of where I lived. I can't recall much other than wearing a red Harrington and red socks, and that I definitely didn't see any boobs that night. 

Things changed dramatically for the Mod scene throughout 1986. People dropped off the scene like flies and found new interests; all the best bands split and that chapter was over, but in 1985 - when we'd go out every week to see either Makin' Time, The Scene, The Prisoners, The Untouchables, The Moment, Direct Hits etc - for that glorious year, The Rage were indeed, for a while at least, all the rage.  

The Rage and The Scene appear at the 100 Club on Friday 23rd January 2015. Tickets available here. Both bands - and all the Mod bands mentioned in this article - also feature on the new 4-CD box set Millions Like Us - The Story of the Mod Revival 1977-1989, released by Cherry Red Records. 

Fay Hallam, Makin' Time, 100 Club, 8th January 1985

THE JAM in SMASH HITS

Rummaging in the back of a wardrobe in my childhood bedroom I came across a long forgotten collection of Jam posters. Some were so thoroughly forgotten seeing them now only brought back the tiniest flicker of remembrance. These four here though, pulled from the pages of Smash Hits between October 1981 and December 1982, are clear as day. They represent precisely the period of the band's career I was aware of and experienced first hand, albeit from a distance - I never saw them live.

The Jam meant the world to me then and stuck with Blu-Tac to my walls and cupboard doors these "song words", as Smash Hits called them , were quickly committed to memory, where they've remained ever since. The phrase "Repeat chorus and ad lib to fade" entering common parlance to folk of a certain age whose reading matter was still confined to the pages of Britain's glossiest pop mag.

I recall being very annoyed with Smash Hits for their treatment of "Beat Surrender". Here was the Jam's swansong and they gave it the laziest piece of non-design artwork in the history of the mag. Look at it, shocking.

IN MEMORY OF IAN McLAGAN

You will have heard by now about the passing of Ian McLagan yesterday. My Facebook timeline is packed today with heartfelt, and in many cases genuinely tearful, tributes to a man none of us really knew although a significant amount had briefly met. There's photo after photo of Mac grinning away and sharing a drink and a laugh with a complete stranger. 

Mrs Monkey and I met him a couple of times and he was as lovely a geezer as you could wish to find. The first was a brief encounter with Kenney Jones at a signing session in HMV and the second was down the pub when Mrs M got him in the headlock she only usually employs on her best mates (see above). He might have been a famous rock and roll star but Ian McLagan felt like one of us rather than one of them.

And where did we all fall in love with the sound of a Hammond B3? It wasn't from Jimmy Smith or even Booker T. Jones but from Ian McLagan and the Small Faces, especially on those instrumental a go-go numbers "Grow Your Own" and "Almost Grown". Now it's up the wooden hills to join Stevie and Plonk. Thanks Mac. 

ABOUT THE YOUNG IDEA: THE JAM - SETTING SONS (SUPER DELUXE EDITION) and LIVE AT THE BRIGHTON CENTRE (1979)

It’s 15 December 1979 and The Jam are in Brighton seeing out their most successful year to date with a gig promoting their fourth album, Setting Sons. Thirty seconds into the penultimate song of the night and “Heatwave” begins to collapse around them as fans clamber on stage. There’s a cry of “wanker” in the background before Paul Weller spits into the mic, “You can get the kids off stage but don’t fucking smash ‘em about, all right.” These kids are his people and loyalty works both ways. With his bitterness rising there’s more frustrated swearing and then “Fuck ‘Heatwave’, fuck the lot of it”. Knuckles tighten. The tension rises. Some more shits and fucks and a seething Weller slashes his guitar strings through an incendiary “’A’ Bomb in Wardour Street” that ends a show that for over 70 minutes bristled with fire and intensity.

There are many reasons to be thankful The Jam have never reformed and hearing how passionately driven they were during this 21-song gig included in the new 4-disc Setting Sons: The Super Deluxe Edition is a particularly compelling one. In three years’ time the band spilt when Weller’s heart wasn’t in it and there’s been no going back. One can’t recreate the past (okay, I’m talking about the band at the centre of a mod revival here but bear with me) and one definitely can’t recapture that special youthful idealism and arrogance as Weller, then only 21, was already perceptive enough to realise. The themes of age and aging and change peppered his lyrics throughout The Jam’s lifetime, right from their first single, but were especially prevalent during ’79 both with Setting Sons and the stand-alone single “When You’re Young” which warned the band’s young following their dreams and optimism of being grown up would soon be smashed when they realised the world was their oyster but their future a clam. Thanks Paul.  

It’s a toss-up between Setting Sons and The Gift as to my favourite Jam album but I don’t often listen to either often – there’s too much new stuff to discover than to spend time raking over old coals - yet being immersed in this set for the last week has been hugely rewarding to rediscover how good The Jam were, especially during this period. It’s easy to forget, to take them for granted. Weller’s lyrics on “Private Hell”, “Burning Sky”, “Wasteland” etc are among the best of his career and The Jam solidified their sound.

Much of the album, the best parts, was a semi-materialised concept about three reunited friends looking at how their lives had changed from the days when they thought they’d stick together for all time; before faces that were once so beautiful became barely recognisable and the men got bald and fat. All that felt an impossibly long way into the future for the kids at the Brighton Centre but young Weller saw it coming.

Disc 1 of this Super Deluxe Edition is the standard Setting Sons album plus eight non-album period singles and B-sides – “Strange Town”, “When You’re Young”, “The Eton Rifles” (slightly different to album version; basically shorter) and “Going Underground” which, with “Dreams of Children,” really belongs with Sound Affects. In Tony Fletcher’s memoir Boy About Town he recalls his classmates celebrating “Going Underground” hitting number one as if their team had won the cup. It was a scene replicated across schools in the UK. They – band and audience – had done it. It was a band for the kids but not a kids’ band. 

Disc 2 features 18 demos and alternate versions – 14 previously unreleased – and a John Peel session. Fourteen unreleased tracks sounds tempting but don’t expect too many surprises. For the most part they are rough and ready run-throughs; Weller the focus with perfunctory bass and drums. Not much changes other than extra oomph by the final versions, although one take of “Strange Town” has an almost ska rhythm which fortunately disappeared before it made the shops. There are two unfamiliar titles - “Simon” and “Along The Grove” - which unless I’ve missed something will be new to most. “Simon” is a sedately paced song about a shy schoolboy due to start work. There’s a kernel of a decent song there but some of the lyrics are a bit clunky and even if it had been finished would’ve struggled to find space on Setting Sons. “Along The Grove” is far superior. Packed with poetic lines it tells of a lonely, alienated man returning from war considering suicide; it’s haunting, affecting and would’ve sat perfectly on the album. The demo here isn’t complete and Weller growls in frustration as it falls away. Tantalising.    

The Brighton Centre gig is disc 3 and is also available in its own right as a stand-alone 2-LP vinyl edition. For me it’s central to the package and well worth getting hold of. I never had the pleasure of seeing The Jam (it still rankles me that others at school, far less deserving, did so) but there a moments which gave me a shiver in the same way Dig The New Breed did in ’83 when I spent hours listening to it whilst perfecting those illustrations on the sleeve of Paul, Bruce and Rick to adore school books and every available blank space.

Disc 4 is a DVD of the promo videos, six Top of the Pops performances and two clips from Something Else. The box also includes a hardback 70-page book with cuttings, new interviews and rare photos; four prints; a replica 1979 tour programme; a replica 1979 fan club magazine; a teas maid; set of oven gloves; a fondue set and a cuddly toy. I’ve only had access to the music so can’t comment on how worthwhile this stuff is but if you’re a middle aged man in need of a black and white photo of Rick Buckler than I’d start worrying. The Jam were always conscious about giving value for money, not filling their albums with singles, so to have sets packed with useless paraphernalia like this to increase the sale price, when all that really matters is the music, does stick in the craw a bit.     

The Jam drew a clear distinction between us and them; between young and old; rich and poor; the classes; even length of hair or whether people were in employment. Weller in Brighton snidely introduces “Smithers-Jones” as being “for anyone with long hair and who works”, which was harsh on Bruce Foxton. The irony now of course is age has meant a switch of sides for many but for The Jam, forever stuck in 1977-82, aged 18-23, they’ve kept their passion, their soul, their fire. Whatever the softening in some of Paul Weller’s attitudes and integrity over the years – even he’s not immune to compromise and the shifting priorities of age - he’s resolutely stuck to his guns and kept The Jam untarnished by age. More than any other band I think of, The Jam were, and will always, be about the young idea.  

Setting Sons: The Super Deluxe Edition, The Deluxe Edition and Live At The Brighton Centre by The Jam are released on Monday 17^th November 2014 by Polydor/Universal.
Top photo: Paul Weller meets Paul Crud, 1979.

GRAHAM DAY & THE FOREFATHERS - GOOD THINGS (2014)

There’s a moment after the lute solo in “Sucking Out My Insides”, and just before the orchestra and choir come in, when for the first time in his career Graham Days breaks into a beautiful falsetto to deliver the song’s heart-wrenching final verse.

Yeah, right. No, what the listener finds on the first album by Graham Day & The Forefathers are a dozen new versions of songs from Day’s back catalogue (six Solar Flares, three Prisoners, two Gaolers, one Prime Movers) delivered in a reassuringly familiar manner. In fact, they aren’t really what one would call new versions – there’s nothing like Bob Dylan playing Name That Tune with his audience or even Howlin’ Wolf psychedelicizing his blues – Day’s simply got songs out of storage and blasted the dust off with a crate load of Medway TNT. These are brash and boisterous songs performed with super-charged, pent-up energy. It’s like Graham Day of old, only more so. His vocals and wah-wah guitar assaults are the stuff of legend and with Allan Crockford and Wolf Howard’s formidable rhythm section striking everything with extra gusto it’s a heavyweight collection.

If accepted wisdom tells us Dave Davies’s crunching power-chords gave birth to heavy metal then it doesn’t take a DNA test on the Jeremy Kyle Show to show Good Things as one of its errant offspring. It’s such a hard rocking album one can’t help wonder how much of Day’s audience continues to be populated by Mods whose traditional musical preferences lie elsewhere. There is, it seems, space for at least one guitar hero and rock god in everyone’s life. The only time I take my air-guitar off its stand is to play along to Graham Day and I snapped a few strings giving it a workout to Good Things.

Much of Day’s audience though has dipped in and out over the years so some song choices here will be more familiar than others but Good Things is a great leveller. Covering four bands and about twenty five years of song writing it would take an incredibly perceptive ear to distinguish the origins of each track; such is Day’s singular vision to no-nonsense tunes.  

It’s fleetingly tempting to listen to these tracks back-to-back with the originals versions to play better/worse but that’s not the point. Good Things is best enjoyed without drawing direct comparisons with the originals; I’ve pointedly not listened to the versions back-to-back but my hunch is some are slightly improved. Day’s music has never been something to over-analyse, so think of this as a live-in-the-studioBest Of Graham Day album. Stick it on your record player, whack it up as loud as your neighbours will allow, and enjoyGood Things. 

Good Things by Graham Day & The Forefathers is released on Own Up Records at the band’s gig at the 229 Club in London on Friday 31^st October.

CONFESSIONS OF A 14 YEAR OLD MOD'S RECORD COLLECTION (1984)

It is 1984 and a fourteen year old me is already habitually recording, cataloguing or listing my interests. I’ve earlier examples (for another day perhaps) and Monkey Picks is simply the latest method of documenting events.

For whatever reason, thirty years ago I decided to keep note of every record I bought. Not only that, but to include where I bought it and how much it cost, and to keep monthly and cumulative expenditure totals (although, typically, I didn’t quite finish it off by calculating the final total in December). Quite why I did all this, I’ve no idea, and I only did so for a year before moving on to a different project in 1985. Maybe I knew I’d be stuck for a blog post in 2014.

As you can see almost everything was Mod or 60s related (interchangeable terms in my young mind) with only a few notable exceptions: The Alarm, The Smiths and even Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s “Two Tribes” which was such a massive record that summer and cut across the youth cult divide.

Also of interest (to me at least), the list pinpoints the precise moment I developed an interest in northern soul with my first purchase of a Kent Records’ collection in April, On The Soul Side, followed by Shoes two weeks later. Those albums – that entire Kent series - were game changers for kids like me who didn’t know about, or much care for, historic tales of the Wigan Casino but discovered the likes of The Impressions, Bobby Bland, Maxine Brown and Patrice Holloway from these mind-blowing LPs that could easily be bought on suburban high streets.

As for Roland Rat’s “Love Me Tender”, I wonder if my little brother still has it.

 

The lists can be viewed easier by clicking on them.

SCOOT THE THAMES - SATURDAY 26th JULY 2014

Today was Scoot The Thames, an annual London ride out for vintage scooters. It began by Aldgate and criss-crossed Old Father Thames across his bridges - Tower Bridge, London Bridge, Southwark Bridge, Blackfriars Bridge, Westminster Bridge – before ending over Waterloo Bridge on Lower Marsh Street for tea and biscuits.

With the sun blazing there must’ve been a couple of hundred Lambrettas and Vespas stopping traffic and causing a spectacle for the general public. As always it’s difficult to take snaps that capture the scale of the event or even the sights. Unfortunately it's not easy to flip the camera out the pocket as zipping over Tower Bridge on an SX150 (although I did try) but here’s a little collection to give a small snapshot of the day.

Many thanks to the organisers, marshals and everybody who took part. See you next year.   

THE DIRECT HITS - HERE, THERE OR ANYWHERE (2014)

The Direct Hits appeared in the first half of the 80s as part of the next generation of mod related bands after the ’79 revival. Whether they were a “mod band” or not is a moot point but as this latest compilation, gathering 23 tracks from their five years attests, they had far more about them, and little in common with, the macho, sloganeering, Rickenbacker-bothering, punks-in-parkas often associated with the original revival period.

What makes the Direct Hits almost unique now is, when compared against their mid-80s peers, how good they still sound. I recently attempted to listen to bands from that period, including a few I liked at the time, and recoiled in horror at most of them. What separates the Direct Hits, and at their very heart, is the special song writing partnership of Colin Swan and Geno Buckmaster; above all else they lovingly crafted quality pop songs. It didn’t seem to be about being in a band or joining a scene, it was about writing and producing timeless songs. Comparisons were frequently and obviously drawn with Lennon and McCartney – think Rubber Soul and Revolver era – but in their story-telling South London compatriots Difford and Tilbrook also spring to mind. Swan and Buckmaster were fantastic at characterisation. Their songs unfolded like mini-dramas populated with people factual and fictional: Aleister Crowley, Marc Deans, Miranda Berkley, Henry The Unhappy Inventor, Christina, Modesty Blaise, Christopher Cooper.

My introduction to them came via the music paper Sounds during July ’84. A two-page spread entitled Mod ’84, gave the lowdown on this underground world of groups and fanzines loosely gathered under the mod umbrella. It had a profound effect on a fourteen year me, who’d already tied his flag to the mod mast but felt no association with any bands from ’79 (bar The Jam, if they count, and that’s a whole other conversation). To my young mind that era was ancient history (although I thought nothing of adopting the Small Faces and the Kinks). These two inky pages were filled with possibilities; they were for now, this was a new thing, this was ours. We had The Style Council and The Truth but everyone knew them, these were under the radar and therefore more exciting. I can’t recall what the article said about the Direct Hits but I soon splashed my pocket money going to see them, only the second band I’d ever seen live, at the Hammersmith Clarendon third on a bill behind Long Tall Shorty (who made no lasting impression) and Geno Washington (some bald old geezer in cowboy boots doing "In The Midnight Hour"). When next hanging out in Carnaby Street, I bought the recently-released album Blow Up from The Merc.

The Direct Hits were soon emblazoned in silver ink on my school pencil case next to The Scene, The Jetset, The Rage and others, but my enthusiasm for this new found universe was treated with suspicion by more cynical classmates who accused me of making up these bands to appear cool to the girls. Nonsense, I protested, I’ll bring in proof. Exhibit A was my I’m A Direct Hits Fan badge, which only attracted widespread ridicule due to the amateurish nature of said item. “You’ve made that yourself, you moron”. I’d done nothing of the sort but the Direct Hits did inhabit a homespun semi-fantasy world where they created their own cottage industry with a tape label to record their overflow of songs on other artists, and thanks to the incredible efforts of superfan Diane Kenwill appeared in their very own Direct Hits Monthly (modelled on the Beatles and Monkees magazines but with a budget that only stretched to a few felt-tips and the use of a photocopier) which ran for a miraculous 30 months straight.  

Geno Buckmaster (I still don’t know if that’s his real name, it’s a cool one either way) may’ve owned the largest collection of Mellandi button-down shirts since Paul Weller, and the band may’ve forced drummer Brian Glover to invest in a boating blazer, but musically the Direct Hits were more 60s revivalists than mod ones, and had one foot gently placed in the neighbouring paisley park, allowing them access to both audiences, although it did mean they could be either too mod or not mod enough for some. Dan Treacy signed them to his Whaam! Records and they occupied a similar space to the Television Personalties and the Times - somewhere to the left of where the main action was.

Their recordings were cheap and cheerful, something that now adds to their charm. Little touches of backward guitar and fairground sounds cropped up here and there (“She’s Not Herself Today”, “I’ve Got Eyes”) ; occasional forays into Motown territory (“Miles Away”, “Just Like An Abacus”); tracks with a darker edge (“What Killed Aleister Crowley?”, “This Was Marc Deans”); the smattering of feedback on “Girl In The Picture” would’ve been as much as lesser bands could’ve managed in channelling The Who but not so the Direct Hits who audaciously – and successfully – created their own seven and a half minute A Quick One style mini-opera, “Henry The Unhappy Inventor”. This isn’t to say there aren’t any mod revivalist elements at work but think more of The Jam in their experimental and sensitive modes on All Mod Cons.

A previous Direct Hits compilation, The Magic Attic, was issued by Tangerine Records in 1994, so for a band that only made released two albums and a couple of singles (“Modesty Blaise” and “She Really Didn’t Care”) there is naturally a lot of overlap on this new CD. But Here, There Or Anywhere is an overdue reminder of the band and although it unfathomably omits “Ever Ready Plaything” long-time fans are rewarded a smattering of unreleased demos and live tracks (the knockabout “Theme From The Munsters” is at odds with much of the rest).   

The band’s second album, House Of Secrets, was released in 1986 by which time the mod scene, in such rude health two years earlier, was disintegrating and the band, now without much of an audience, folded shortly afterwards. Much is made of the band’s mod connections in the CD packaging and I’m sure Cherry Red knows how to market their product far better than I but if, like me, you usually cringe and steer well clear of such things then be careful not to miss out due to tight pigeonholing. I was sniffy about the mod revival as a teenager and now I’m positively allergic to it; it brings me out in a nasty rash, but Here, There Or Anywhere is an engaging and enduring collection of charming 60s style pop, gentle psychedelia and quaint independent English pop music with modish leanings, and that's something always worth reviving.

Here, There Or Anywhere by The Direct Hits is released by Cherry Red Records, out now.