HERO OF THE HAMMOND: THE JAMES TAYLOR INTERIVEW

James Taylor, modern day hero of the Hammond organ, began recording in 1982 with Kent go-go punk ground breakers The Prisoners. After four albums they spilt in 1986 and Taylor formed the James Taylor Quartet, initially playing Booker T-in-the-garage versions of TV and film soundtracks. With a frequently changing line-up the JTQ have swung to soul, jazz, funk, rock and more through a career which continues to this day.

I recently caught up with James to talk through his career. An edited version of this interview first appeared in Nutsmag but below is the full chat.

What was it like growing up in Medway? What did your parents do?

I was interested in the musical tastes of my older brothers and my uncle. I got a close up view of the sixties musical boom through their eyes and despite the fact that I was born in 1964 and so missed most of that period and kind of surfaced musically in the early 70s. I had a piano and I was very interested in trying to work out tunes that I had heard on the radio and TV, so no change there really. Apart from music, Medway was fun because we all played out on the streets, football, cricket etc. The usual stuff. Looking back it feels like a bit of a golden age, I’m guessing in reality it was completely normal and slightly if not ever so dull. My dad worked in an office and my mum was a housewife. It was all baby boomer classic stuff really.

When did you first start taking an interest in music?

As early as I can recall, I remember seeing the Beatles on Top of the Pops in 1968 playing ‘Hey Jude’. I was into all sorts of music from an early age; eclecticism was always my thing and still is now.

Were there any musicians in your family?

My mother and grandmother were piano players and they gave me my earliest musical education. I had my first piano lesson when I was four years old. My uncle had his own band playing sixties soul. My brothers and I formed a band playing Stevie Wonder covers. We have recordings of this done onto a ¼ inch reel-to-reel.

Around the time of recording the first Prisoners LP Better In Black you briefly went to university in Newcastle. What were you going to study?

Mining engineering. I left after a few days when I realised there was no way I could take the whole thing seriously. I wanted to play with the Prisoners.

What route do you think your musical path would’ve taken if you’d not made that decision?

Hard to say, I was not interested in engineering, I had been for a while previously, and I am again now curiously, but I was bored of education. If I had tried to see it through despite not being engaged by it I guess my musical thing would have remained a hobby as it had been until that point. It was a scary decision to say to my professor “I want to be a musician” and to turn my back on serious education but I felt gigging was the most exciting thing in my life, so there was not much of a choice really. I still feel the same way.

Am I right in thinking on those first Prisoners records you were playing a Casio keyboard?

On the first two [Better In Black and Thewisermiserdemelza], yes.

You still got a great sound out of it.

Thank you. I found the Casio in a keyboard shop and noticed it had a setting called “electric organ”. I played along with my 7” vinyl of ‘Green Onions’ and I was able to get a sound not too dissimilar to Booker T. Jones so that’s how I whiled away the evenings. As a sixteen year old before joining a band, I was hooked on all things Hammond-ish.

Where/when did you get your Hammond?

My first one was an M100 bought from a lady in Rochester. We got that in 1983 I think. I moved to a C3 in 1988.

What was the Hammond like to play after piano and the Casio?

A real Hammond was big game changer. It’s possible to make a stronger impact with this huge dynamic sound. The digital equivalent is non-starter in comparison. I am still very into piano though.

A big part of The Prisoners sound and The Last Fourfathers in particular were the instrumentals and a dominant use of organ. What things were influencing you at that time?

The Nice, Small Faces, Deep Purple, early Pink Floyd, the usual stuff really.

After the Prisoners, how did the James Taylor Quartet take shape and what was your original ambition for the band?

I was pissed off when the Prisoners spilt up because I just wanted to gig, so I put my own band together and just carried on really. You know when things fall apart sometimes it forces you into a new position or way or operating that was unforeseen but that in some way brings you forward unexpectedly. It was fortuitous that Eddie Piller liked our sound and started putting out our records.

That period doing theme tunes and spoof spy film soundtrack sounds, even now, a lot of fun and the JTQ took off quickly. Did that initial success take you by surprise?

I was very surprised that other people liked our stuff; I thought I was the only Hammond nut around, turned out there were others.

Wait A Minute was a highpoint of the original JTQ line-up and included “Theme From Starsky and Hutch” which is still what many people best know you for. What are your recollections of recording that LP and of Pee Wee Ellis and Fred Wesley from the JB’s who played on it?

We were at a rather posh studio with a very expensive producer. We had a great laugh actually, didn’t want to come home. Pee Wee and Fred were really amazing. They complimented our sound and it felt odd to hear your heroes playing on your own record. I knew “Starsky” would be popular but I didn’t think it would still be doing the rounds now, it’s aged well.

With Get Organized came changes to the quartet line-up and included a who’s who of young British jazz players – Steve Williamson, Steve White, Cleveland Watkiss, Guy Barker etc. After working with the same musicians you’d known from your home, how was it suddenly working with new musicians known in their own right?

Yes, that was a period where I felt a lot of pressure from Polydor to be at the centre of this new emerging musical scene, but at the same time I really enjoyed working with all these great new players. I found a way to use the Hammond alongside all sorts; it was a kind of stretching experience.

Was it daunting at all?

I guess so, I felt that the early line-up had sort of extinguished itself and I had to decide how best to go forward so really I was checking out a lot of players to see who  could do good gigs with.

Was that liberating?

Of course, very liberating but when you separate from the people who share and understand your musical development closely it’s a shock to discover other people don’t see things quite the same, I had to be flexible. So it was a steep learning curve, it took a while until I found my feet again after the first band finished.

The James Taylor Quartet, from the beginning, became the focal point for the acid jazz scene; almost the catalyst for it. How did your interest in jazz begin and develop?

Listening to Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, Jimmy Smith. I loved the Julian Cannonball Adderley Something Else album. We were listening to that album a lot when we wrote The Money Spyder.

That period from the late 80s to early 90s encompassed rare groove, jazz, and hip-hop/modern soul. It moved very fast and the JTQ were right in amongst all that; making albums at a rapid rate. That was an exciting time, with people open to different styles but it’s a period not given much coverage these days. How do you view those times?

We gigged and recorded flat out so it was tiring but yes, very exciting. I could have taken more time out to examine things a bit I guess, but when you’re moving so fast you kind of don’t want to stop. We make hay while the sun shines. The band was regularly selling out large venues like the Brixton Academy and Barrowlands in Glasgow, and all around the world. We were considered a very bankable act by the UK music scene and promoters, so we just lived on a bus basically, marriages fell apart, people got stressed out a bit, but it was a non-stop party for the first eight to ten years at least!

You had/have a strong reputation as a live act but was there pressure from record companies – when the acid jazz period was at its height - to have bigger chart success?

Yes.

Was that something you were personally striving for?

Everyone in the business wanted us to be a vocal act, I was okay with this but instrumentals were always my passion, so it was good to make soul records as long as we could gig Hammond instrumentals as well. We had hits with a label called Big Life, a lot of commercial success was fun for a while but I soon felt the need to rebalance things and get back into our more core sound.

You’ve made sporadically made albums as New Jersey Kings. What gives those albums their own identity? Why the separation from the JTQ?

Just to be able to function free from big labels for a while, incognito as it were.

Outside of your own music you’ve become the go-to person in the industry the Hammond. What’s that like?  

All big stars are very interesting to see working in the studio. They’re usually popular for a reason, they’re usually very talented, not always though. I thought Tom Jones was the most astonishing recording artist I’ve ever worked with. I thought U2 were very painstaking in the studio and moved so slowly that it felt slightly uncreative. However in retrospect I feel that a high level of attention to detail in the studio is a good thing. I’ve just got a short attention span, I get easily bored and so I want to record records quickly.

The Template celebrated 25 years of the JTQ in 2011. It’s a great album but you operate more under-the-radar these days. Soul-Jazz isn’t an easy sell I guess.

Thanks, but I wonder why you feel that to be the case? We still work flat out. In the last three months we’ve played a week of sold out shows at Ronnie Scott’s, we sold out the Queen Elizabeth Hall a few days again, and Hall One at the Sage in Newcastle. These are big gigs, as well as entertaining the world economic forum up in Davos, headlining Liverpool Jazz Festival ad selling out the Band On The Wall in Manchester. We’ve been played on all the national BBC radio stations. That’s all in the last few months, as well as this we’ve recorded an album for TV/film and advertising for Audio Network, another live album for Ronnie’s, and I’ve written and am about to record a huge choral/Hammond piece for Cherry Red Records. I think you maybe feel we are under the radar because you’re not personally aware of these things. In fact we are still one of the biggest jazz acts in the country and we are permanently in demand worldwide, the problem is I’m running out of energy, I’m fifty now! Also I’m inclined to say that whilst we love playing jazz clubs and festivals, we also headline rock festivals, classical music festivals as well as playing your mod/soul gigs like the New Untouchables Margate one and the one down in Gijon [Ye-Ye Weekend]. I feel that the reality is that all music is one. As I say, I was always into eclectic things and enjoy the variety.

People might be surprised to discover you have a separate career as a psychotherapist. I’m always interested in successful musicians who juggle dual careers. Is this something you’d always wanted to do or did you feel a need to find something away from the music industry?

Absolutely, I need to create a bit of space that wasn’t about music. I wanted to study a bit. It’s been a very enjoyable diversion. It allows me to re-approach music from a fresh perspective.

Your most recent album, Closer To The Moon, contains elements of classical music. For many people “classical music” still seems like something impenetrable and intimating, as well as outside their own taste. What’s your interest in it?

Closer isn’t a classical record though, it’s just got some of those sounds on it. I’m interested in music which connects directly with me, this could be Stevie Wonder or J S Bach, I don’t really make a distinction. The Hammond works well in a variety of musical genres so I’ll make a record with Billy Childish or with a cathedral choir of with Nitin Sawnhey or with Tina Turner, it’s all good. I recognise that classical music is a turn off to loads of people but what can I do? I’m just into it just like I’m into the Small Faces, so I’m excited to represent myself using aspects of the classical idiom. Have you heard those string arrangements of Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake? Classical music.

The JTQ have been in existence for nearly 30 years. How do you keep motivated?

Right now I’m massively into the piano, I play eight hours a day, I write lots of piano stuff and I’m also into choral stuff, combining it with the JTQ sound is the latest challenge. I written a 45 minute long choral mass which will be recorded soon up at Air Studios. Can’t wait to see what people make of that.

If you had to pick three of your records to best provide an overall of the JTQ what would they be and why?

“South To Perpignan”, “Tough Chicken”, “Blow Up”. Could be any but these have got a fair cross section of filmic, moody, excitement and danceability.

What period of your career so far do you look back on most fondly and why?

I don’t really see things in that way. I like things as they are now because I have complete freedom musically, so I guess now is the best period for me, it still feels very exciting to play the Hammond on stage, just as it did my first gig with the Prisoners. Being a musician is a privilege and it’s not a thing that I take for granted or shy away from.  I’ve enjoyed my career in music and I’m very grateful for your scene for being so supportive to us for so long. The mod scene got us started really and it’s always great to see mods in the crowd showing the others how to dance and dress. I’ve really enjoyed answering your questions, it’s given me a chance to reflect on many things.

Prisoners fans my also be interested in The Graham Day Interview and The Allan Crockford Interview.

JULY PLAYLIST

1.  Big John Greer – “I’m The Fat Man” (1952)

He may be big but he can thrill you through and through. So claims Mr. Greer in a song about his rocking meat.

2.  Charlie Mingus – “Dizzy Moods” (1957)

Recorded in 1957 but not released until 1962, Mingus is quoted on the sleeve of Tijuana Moods as saying “This is the best record I ever made”. It’s difficult to put these things in any order and difficult to understand why such a fantastic LP waited in the wings for five years, although this was an incredibly prolific period with four other albums recorded and issued in 1957 alone.
[Comment from Monkey Snr: It was not issued by RCA for five years because Celia Mingus (his wife) sued RCA, and settled for $1200. I think it was about Debut (Mingus and Max Roach's label) issuing an LP by Thad Jones; RCA nicked the idea].

3.  Jack Harris and the Arabians – “Dog Wild” (1962)

Honkin’ and hustlin’ dirty R&B out of Chicago on the very cool Witch label.

4.  Prince Love and his Royal Knights – “Don’t Want No War” (1962)

“Mr Castro, I’m talking to you”. Gotta hand it to young Sly Stone for cutting a dance record about the Cuban missile crisis.

5.  Carolyn Franklin- “Right On!” (1970)

Big and brassy from Sister Carolyn.

6.  The Staple Singers – “This Is A Perfect World” (1971)

For the first time Al Bell and Stax took the Staples to Muscle Shoals to record, and their The Staple Swingers LP opens with the sound of machinegun fire, “God Save The Queen” played on a harmonium, and Roebuck Staples declaring “This is a perfect world, so let’s stop trying to make it what it’s not”. Powerful and rousing stuff even before Mavis takes up the baton.

7.  The Brand New Heavies – “Sphynx” (1990)

Although I saw the Brand New Heavies a fair few times in their early days – they were a great live band tapped into a strong funk, jazz and soul movement – I was pretty nonplussed by their debut LP when it eventually came out, playing it only a couple of times. This was probably due to preferring to listen to the JBs, the Meters, Charles Earland etc than a new band doing a copy. Twenty five later those considerations don’t apply and taken on its own merits The Brand New Heavies makes a strong summertime soundtrack.

8.  The Stairs – “Right In The Back Of Your Mind” (1992)

Smokin’ scouse big beat vowel mangling combo The Stairs are back! Or rather they will be when they play the Kazimier in Liverpool on 26 November. Details are sketchy at the moment and no other dates announced so get yer skins together and catch the 147. Hope they do this epic Stooges/Chocolate Watchband mash-up. 

9.  The Nervous Rex – “(I Love Your) Psychedelic Curtains” (2009)

Zyd Hockey played this on his Fusion wireless show the other week and my toe was already merrily tapping away when my ears picked out the line “Your LP records by The Action and the Electric Prunes” guaranteeing its place in this month’s playlist.  

10.  James Taylor Quartet – “Why Can’t We Get Along” (2011)

From The Template, the JTQ follow the one used by the Style Council trying to sound like the Isleys. Infectious little number this one.

FALSE MEMORY LANE: THE ALLAN CROCKFORD INTERVIEW

Bass players - stood on the side of the stage, doing their job, rarely seeking attention, allowing the limelight to shine on others to take the plaudits. That’s the natural order of things but on occasions, for one reason or another, the bassist forgets their place and decides they want a bit more attention. They want to write songs, they want to sing, they want to be the focal point. The results, should anyone bother to listen, are seldom welcome: Bill Wyman’s “Je Suis Un Rock Star”; Bruce Foxton’s “Freak”; John Entwistle’s “Too Late The Hero”; anything to do with Peter Hook; you get the idea. All of which makes Allan Crockford’s successful switch from bedrock of multiple Medway beat combos including the Prisoners, the James Taylor Quartet, the Prime Movers and the Solarflares, to become the mastermind behind the Galileo 7 all the more of a welcome surprise.

Following Are We Having Fun Yet? (2010) and Staring At The Sound (2012) the new Galileo 7 album, False Memory Lane is their best yet. Crockford on vocals and guitar - with Viv Bonsels (organ), Mole (bass) and Russ Baxter (drums) - hasn’t been content to stay on familiar ground and regurgitate versions of his previous bands; instead he offers a fresh perspective on his talent. There’s little of the crash-bang-wallop Medway punk ethos in evidence; replaced with a more considered and thoughtful approach to both the writing and recording. The default position, such as there is one – as shown on previous Galileo outings – is of a bouncy English pop-psych band. There’s a strong 60s feel but on this new album in particular there’s an ear for at least the following three decades to stop it sounding like a pastiche or overly contrived. “Tide’s Rising”, “Don’t Follow Me”, “My Cover Is Blown” and “Don’t Want To Know” are business-as-usual, mixing fuzz guitars and organ, and whilst not truly psychedelic there are spacey sci-fi touches with brightness and colour throughout. But where False Memory Lane excels is when it deviates from the template, and it does so with admirable frequency.

The healthy scope of styles indicates Crockford’s willingness to experiment and a growing confidence in his writing. The title track is the most obvious example with Allan’s vocal backed only by a mellotron, handclaps and a finger-picking acoustic guitar reminiscent of Pete Townshend. Even better is the superb “Fools” which transports Strawberry Fields to Rochester High Street. “Don’t Know What I’m Waiting For” is sung by Viv and sounds like a new wave band mercifully cropping up to save an edition of Top Of The Pops in the late 70s and then covered by The Primitives (“Viv wanted a Primitives type song to sing, so I wrote one,” says Allan). “You’re Not Dreaming” has a spiralling melody and is more sinister sounding yet “Nobody Told You” manages to joyfully mix a clippity-clop Syd Barrett rhythm with a bubble gum ba-ba-ba-ba-ba chorus, vocal harmonies and a hint of the Left Banke. No mean feat. “Little By Little” is the heaviest psych-trip on show and had this been on young whippersnappers Temples’ album it’d be on hipper radio stations’ playlists quicker than you could say Their Satanic Majesties Request. Personal favourite is “I’m Still Here” which ties sepia-tinged lyrics to a magnificent melody and almost Big Star guitars in a way I’ve not heard done as well since Bronco Bullfrog’s albums of the late 90s. “I’m still here,” Allan sings, “saying the things that you don’t want to hear.” Au contraire Mr. Crockford, au contraire, on this evidence I want to hear much more. A terrific album by anyone’s standards.

With that in mind, Monkey Picks collared Allan to quiz him about the Galileo 7; revisiting his back catalogue with Graham Day & The Forefathers; and, of course, gently bend his ear about a couple of his old bands.

Give us a little background to the Galileo 7.

It started as me making demos at home and putting them on-line for whoever stumbled on them. I didn’t want to put them under my own name so I invented a band name. The Galileo Seven is an episode from the original Star Trek series and I always thought it sounded like a band. There was another episode called The Cloudminders that I liked as well. Sometimes I wish I’d chosen that one, because ‘Galileo’ is a bit difficult for some people to say. Having said that, Galileo was a good man for many reasons so he got the vote.

What's the fascination with Star Trek?

I liked it when I was a nipper, and any TV or music you grow up with stays with you pretty much forever. It's the power of emotional nostalgia, not necessarily a reflection of the quality of the thing you're remembering. There was a good few years when it wasn't shown on British TV and its reputation grew during the time we couldn't see it. The power of absence. I'm a big fan of Laurel and Hardy as well, and there was also a time when we couldn't see them on British TV for copyright reasons, so all we had was memories of how great these programmes were. And of course they get better the longer you go without seeing them. Like a good footballer who has a long term injury whose reputation grows in his absence while the team struggles. It's the old excitement of digging out records that you've only heard about, or heard fleetingly on the radio a long time ago. It's not an experience that people younger than us really have any more, because everything is so easy to find nowadays. I like the fact that I can now get hold of any piece of music, TV programme, film or whatever instantly, but I also miss that surge of excitement we used to get when we'd come across something long lost, buried, forgotten or unknown. I'm glad that I had that experience. As you can tell, I'm quite interested in the truth or otherwise of memory.

That’s all right then. With your band’s name and The Prisoners appearing on Channel 4 in Star Trek outfits I was worried you were a Trekkie…

No, I'm not a Trekkie! The uniforms on The Tube weren't my idea. I hate dressing up. But there's no doubt at all that it was a good idea, because everyone remembers us, and it did look good. The shirts were hand made by, I think, Johnny Symon's girlfriend and finished off in the van going up to the recording by someone else's girlfriend. I don't go to conventions or speak Klingon.

After all the bands you’ve been in, the Galileo 7 is the first time you’ve taken centre-stage. Was writing something you’d always wanted to do?

I wanted to try it because I’d started writing songs relatively late in my musical life. I’d been playing in bands for twenty years or more before I wrote my first song. I had no idea whether I could do it. I started writing during my time in The Stabilisers but it was more to do with mucking about making home demos than thinking I was ‘writing’. I didn’t really have any inclination before that at all. I thought it was a dark art and that I hadn’t been blessed. That’s why I was always the one in the bands who did all the practical stuff. I thought I had to make up for being uncreative.

Was there ever any frustration in always playing other peoples’ songs – predominately those of Graham Day?

I never felt frustration as such. Why should I feel frustrated playing Graham’s songs? They were mostly great, and he is one of the best singers of the last 30 years, and even up there with some of the recognised ‘superstars’.

Were you nervous about singing?

Not nervous as such but very aware of my limitations. Maybe too aware and self-critical. I’m not the best singer in the world – I’m not even the best singer in the band - and I’ve been in bands with some great singers so I was always on a loser if anyone compared me to them. But I believe in the songs and I had no alternative at that point. And I wanted the challenge. Being out of one’s comfort zone is good for the soul, although sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, especially when my throat is gone after five songs. I’ve got no technique!

Did you have to find a vocal style you were comfortable with?

I haven’t got a style, I’m just trying to remember the words and sing roughly in tune. It’s a kind of artless style if anything. Maybe kind of close to Syd Barrett. Not as good as him but kind of deadpan and underplayed. There’s no point in trying to develop a style at my age. It would be me doing a poor impersonation of someone else. You can do that when you’re young and still developing because most people end up sounding like something different and unique by mistake. At my age I’d rather just get better by doing it more.

What’s it been like trying to get your own band heard? I guess the recent formation of Graham Day & the Forefathers has helped raise the profile of the Galileo 7?

Well it hasn’t hurt. I’ve never been under any illusions about the amount of people who might be interested in our stuff just because I was in the Prisoners and all the other bands. Musically it’s not a million miles away, but I’m trying to do something a little different. A lot of Prisoners fans are very, very focused on just that band and Graham, and are really not that interested about what I’m doing. I accept that and I’d be the same if the bass player in a band I liked starting his own band playing guitar. It’s always the singer and songwriter that keeps the fans, and rightly so. But the Forefathers starting playing has maybe reminded a few people that I’m doing my own stuff and the more open minded ones have given us a listen.

Did Graham Day & the Forefathers come as a surprise or had you felt Graham itching to get out there again?

I don’t think Graham was particularly itching to start playing again, but it sounded like a bit of laugh when we discussed it down the pub. After the first few gigs it was obvious that we were still good, and more importantly, it was fun, especially picking and choosing whatever songs from whatever band we’ve been in together. It’s a big catalogue of songs and playing the Prisoners stuff was bound to get people interested. But it’s also good to remind people of how well the Solarflares stuff stands up next to it and good for me to play some of the Gaolers songs. They’re all new to me and it brings a bit of freshness to the set.

How does it feel trying to push new material with the Galileo 7 and then seeing peoples’ enthusiasm about Graham Day & the Forefathers playing old material?

Completely understandable, as I said before. I know how much those songs mean to people: they mean a lot to me as well. It’s the acceptable face of nostalgia, as long we deliver them with some attitude and aggression then it works. And it’s nice to feel that we’re stirring emotions in people.

Graham Day & the Forefathers: Day, Wolf Howard, Allan Crockford

Talking of nostalgia, the title track on False Memory Lane contains the line “nostalgia’s not what it was” and talks about rewriting old events. Have you seen this with regard to your career? I’m thinking predominately about the Prisoners who in some ways have taken on a life of their own.

Well, the song is about the way we fool ourselves about our motives and actions when we look back, and sometimes adjust the recollection to suit what has happened since, or build a narrative arc onto our lives as if we weren’t just bumbling along making it up at the time. I don’t know if it applies to the Prisoners, although I’ve told the story of the band so many times that it does seem to have a plot line now, and I can no longer be sure what anyone’s motives were for what we did and didn’t do during that time. I usually now say that we did things because we were young, stupid, lazy or drunk rather than through any master plan or rugged independence of thought. I may be downplaying our intelligence at the time but I think that’s more honest from this distance.

We always read how the Prisoners were such an influence on bands like the Charlatans, Inspiral Carpets, Kula Shaker etc. How does that make you feel? Proud? Guilty? Cheated?

It’s hard sometimes not to feel that we missed out a little bit on some substantial success somehow, but on the other hand that means very little now. The fact that we slipped under the radar many times adds a bit of romance to the band. I’m happy with what we did and glad that we didn’t get sucked into the industry too much.

You got sucked in a bit. The end of the Prisoners came with the acrimonious relationship with Countdown records and all the trouble (fan base, outside producer etc) that brought. After the experiences with Big Beat making Thewisermiserdemelza with an outside producer why did you make what appeared to be similar mistakes again?

Our relationship with Big Beat wasn’t acrimonious at all so I don’t think we imagined that we were repeating any mistakes by signing to Countdown. With Big Beat we felt that we’d tried the record company thing and just fancied doing the next record ourselves. We never fell out with them. Countdown was another matter. We sort of knew what we were letting ourselves in for but it was a last roll of the dice to take the band a bit further. We were warned by various ex-Stiff artistes that it wouldn’t be straight forward and that we would have to relinquish control of many aspects of our sound. But I remember that we had the contract looked over by a solicitor and he said it wasn’t great, but if we were going to sign it we had to throw ourselves into it to make it work. We never did and battle lines were drawn pretty early in the relationship. It was a little bit glamorous at first, with Stiff being a proper famous label, in a posh building with Island Records, but it quickly soured when we were saddled with a producer who hadn’t even seen the band.

If you’d carried on putting out your own records would the Prisoners have lasted longer?

If we’d carried on making our own records we might have made one more, but I think we were all a bit knackered by the end. We didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm for the whole thing. We needed a rest and we took one.

You've put your new album out yourself, is that a method you'd recommend for young bands starting out, to keep as much control as possible?

It's born out of necessity. If someone actually offered to release our album as we recorded it and promised to work hard selling it, then I'd take that option. It's really hard work. I used to be the person who didn't write songs but did all the boring stuff like promoting and selling and essentially managing the band. Nowadays I still do that, but I've added writing all the songs, singing them, recording and producing the music as well. And managing all the processes of actually getting the product available; I think I've gone wrong somewhere. But it is my thing and somehow I have more time and energy to take on the responsibility than the others in the band. As it happens a label has offered to licence the next album and press it up and do all the boring but necessary stuff. If the offer still stands when we've actually recorded some new material next year, I might well take them up on it. As for young bands starting out, it's always a good idea to do a self-release if they're prepared to work really hard to get people to buy it. Making the music is the easy and fun part. The bit that makes it possible to carry on doing it is actually selling a few copies. But make sure everyone in the band does their share if possible.

After the Prisoners came the James Taylor Quartet. I’ve been playing those first few records again recently and they still sound fresh and exciting. Would I be right in thinking that was probably the time you were in the most commercially successful band?

I like the early JTQ stuff. It was an exciting time because it happened quite quickly. I think the early JTQ gigs picked up a lot of the Prisoners fans as it wasn’t that long after the split. Gigs were pretty packed almost immediately and stayed that way. I suppose it seemed like success in comparison to what went before but it wasn’t commercial success. We were making the records we wanted to make and they were selling okay. That’s about as good as it gets at our level of the business.

For a band central to the appearance of “Acid Jazz” you weren’t especially jazzy.

It’s got an innocence about it and it’s got nothing to do with jazz. Just some Medway herberts having a go at being Booker T and the MGs and coming up with some sort of garage version. As soon as funk reared its head I knew I wouldn’t last long in the band. I’m not that kind of bass player and our efforts didn’t sound too convincing or funky. I don’t really like a lot of what the band has done since. It’s just not my sort of music, although I occasionally hear the odd song that sounds like a throwback to what we were doing in my time in the band.

With all your bands - Prisoners, JTQ, Prime Movers, Solarflares, Goodchilde, Phaze, Stabilisers, Galileo 7, Forefathers - you’ve made a lot of records. Do you keep count? Have you kept copies of everything? Kept a scrapbook?

I haven’t counted recently but it must be around 35 albums or so. I’ve got copies of most of them, but I’m not really anal about keeping or collecting memorabilia. Sometimes I wish I had kept stuff, especially when people keep putting stuff up on Facebook that I’ve forgotten about. But I’m always more interested in moving on to the next thing.

What is the next thing? What have you got planned for the Galileo 7 and Graham Day & the Forefathers?

Plans don’t really exist, we just do what we fancy if circumstances allow. If we sell enough copies of the new Galileo 7 album then we’ll do another one. It’s not cheap to put out a physical product and difficult to sell them. But we’ve had an offer from a label to license our next album so maybe we’ll do that next year. The Forefathers will put out a live-ish album in a few months; recordings of songs we do in the set, done power trio style with no frills, in our rehearsal room. And both bands would like to play more gigs, but we’re up against the realities of life, family, work and middle age.

What are your interests away from music?
I'm not really sure. I like reading when I get a chance, but the opportunity for the kind of concentrated, head in a book for hours on end type of reading I like only happens for a couple of weeks a year on holiday. I always feel my brain waking up again after a couple of days of concentrated reading; taking in other people's words, ideas, philosophies, science. I usually get a few ideas for songs on holiday. Keeping fit-ish takes a bit of time but mostly my head is full of music or thoughts revolving around selling our album, wondering about making another one. I really should get a hobby unconnected with music. I'm kind of into history, philosophy and science but it only goes as far as reading lots of popular books on those subjects and watching lots of documentaries. Time to go back to school...

Huge thanks to Allan for his time and his music. For further info, to listen, and to buy from the Galileo 7 shop, visit the Galileo 7 website. 

AUGUST PLAYLIST

A day late but here's a selection of tunes popular in Monkey Mansions over the previous month.

1.  The Hammond Brothers – “Thirty Miles of Railroad Track” (1962)

Burt Bacharach was on a hot streak in 1962 (“Any Day Now”, “Don’t Make Me Over”, “Make It Easy On Yourself”, “Only Love Can Break A Heart” etc) yet this chugging cut written with Bob Hilliard for the Hammond Brothers on Abner Records slipped through the net. Makes a great club 45 now.

2.  The Mamas and Papas – “Straight Shooter” (1966)

America didn’t mind (or notice) John Phillips’ ode to dope smoking but it did get upset If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears featured a toilet on the sleeve, declaring it obscene and forcing a hasty withdrawal from record stores.

3.  Wade Flemons – “Two of a Kind” (1967)

The follow-up to the thumping northern monster “Jeanette” and there’s no denying a touch of showbizzy pizazz but I can’t help like it despite imagining Tarby, Brucie or Leslie Crowther performing it as a game show theme tune. This was the last of Wade’s solo 45s before joining the embryonic Earth, Wind and Fire: the Salty Peppers.

4.  Nina Simone – “House Of The Rising Sun” (1967)

Squillions of version of this – Nina herself cut a slow one five years previously – but the pulsating, thigh-slapping take on Nina Simone Sings The Blues is the one to slap your thighs to.

5.  The Gaylets – “That Lonely Feeling” (1968)

Outstanding Jamaican soul music making loneliness sound like the most joyous feeling in the world.  

6.  Dion – “Purple Haze” (1969)

I stumbled across this on a site I can’t now find but they flagged it up as an example of one of the worst records ever made. How very, very wrong! I love it. Almost unrecognisable from the original, Dion gives it a breezy, flute backed, Fred Neil/Tim Hardinesque folk treatment. Genius. The whole Dion album is like this and suitably wonderful. 

7.  Paul Williams – “Someday Man” (1970)

Williams is better known for his songs written for others; from teh sublime (Kermit the Frog) to the ridiculous (David Bowie). “We’ve Only Just Begun” was in the charts for the Carpenters the year Williams put out his version of “Someday Man”, already recorded and released by The Monkees.

8.  The James Taylor Quartet – “Car Chase” (1989)

From the soundtrack to their imaginary film The Money Spyder. Listening to it again now it’s easy to hear how they kick started the whole Acid Jazz movement and a frenzy of Hammond organ LP purchases; few – if any – were as good as this album.

9.  Kings Go Forth – “Now We’re Gone” (2010)

Fatback funky soul from this Milwaukee ten-piece outfit’s The Outsiders Are Back led by the smashingly named Black Wolf.

10.  Paul Orwell – “Little Reason” (2013)

The sunny psychedelic summer squeezes out one more groovy tune before the nights draw in. Not officially released anywhere yet but can be heard on soundcloud.

FROM THE ARCHIVES: THE PRISONERS at the SUBTERANIA, LADBROKE GROVE, THURSDAY 16th DECEMBER 1993

Jamie Taylor, The Prisoners farewell gig, 100 Club, London, 18th September 1986

This was written at the time for Something Has Hit Me issue 4 but has been stuck in a drawer ever since. Probably the best place for it but posted here as a reminder of a great night and to welcome back Graham Day and Allan Crockford (with Wolf Howard) now trading as Graham Day and The Forefathers. 

My, doesn’t time fly? It’s over seven years since The Prisoners whiskey fuelled farewell gig at the 100 Club in September 1986, when I remember Graham Day saying something like “That’s the last song you’ll ever hear us play”. Yet, for allegedly one night only, they are back to receive some rather late appreciation.

In the intervening years, Graham Day and Allan Crockford more or less stuck to their guns and produced some almost Prisoners Mark II material as the Prime Movers but for whatever unfathomable reason, no one in the UK gave a shit so they spent most of the time playing to more welcoming audiences in the rest of Europe. Jamie Taylor started calling himself James, formed the world’s largest quartet, almost single handedly created the Acid Jazz scene, only to influence a host of artists that became more commercially successful (certainly chartwise) than himself; which is precisely what happened to The Prisoners. They spilt and a couple of years later every tin pot indie band was slapping chunks of Hammond on their records and having hits, The Charlatans and Inspiral Carpets being the two most obvious. Johnny Symons dropped out of view, only to be spied at a Booker T. & The MGs gig where he denied ever being in the band.

Bearing in mind towards the end of their original days The Prisoners were struggling to get 100 people to the 100 Club, tonight’s huge sold out over-capacity crowd took me by surprise. Long before show time the place was packed solid.

Their biggest hit that never was, the brick-in-the-face impact of “Hurricane”, opened proceedings swiftly followed by “Reaching My Head”. Naturally enough everyone lapped it up but to my ears they lacked that special spark. Mind you, a bit of stage rust was only to be expected and I was struggling to find a decent vantage point to witness this historic event which didn’t help my mood.

Crockford, always one for the sarcastic quip, announced “Welcome to the golden hour,” and that’s what it turned out to be. From “Thinking Of You (Broken Pieces)” onwards things really started to hot up. I’d nearly forgotten how good songs like that were. Day was loosening up, flopping his long hair about whilst trying to keep hold of his guitar as it took on a wriggling electrifying life of its own. “Deceiving Eye” was a major highlight, delivered with real passion and brought back memories of the Fulham Greyhound and that ridiculous dance routine everyone did to the chorus - “You’ve been running, you’ve been hiding, you’ve been sleeping all over this town…” . I couldn’t spot anyone doing the actions (you can guess them) but they must’ve been somewhere.

The further into the set, the better the heady mix of Medway garage punk, late 60s rock and Small Faces instrumental rip-offs got. Not surprisingly perhaps, Jamie appeared to relish the chance to play the wonderful old go-go tunes again rather than have some rapper prance around in front of him. As far as I can remember, also included in the set were (I think), “Revenge of the Cybermen”, “Be On Your Way”, “There’s A Place”, “Better In Black”, “Explosion on Uranus” and perhaps “I Am The Fisherman” but it all whizzed by so fast it’s hard to recall properly and there’s no way I was going to take notes. “Happiness For Once” was never one of their greatest songs but the sod-you attitude was fully understandable. Then, all too soon, they were gone.

The encore featured an explosive version “Melanie” and Deep Purple’s (yeah, okay, Joe South’s) “Hush”. A touch of self-indulgence crept in here with long jamming sections stretching the song out for ages. Neither the band or the sweaty mass of punters wanted this to end.

Reunion gigs aren’t usually a good idea as they can tarnish a band’s good reputation but somehow The Prisoners were different. There was a definite point to prove and prove it they did. Nobody, but nobody, sounds like The Prisoners the way The Prisoners do.  

The Prisoners first reunion gig, Subterania, London, 16th December 1993. Filmed by Steve Duffield of support band Mild Mannered Janitors.