IT'S TIME FOR... FIVE THIRTY. THE TARA MILTON INTERVIEW (2018)

“Five Thirty are a blissed out, centrifuged guitar pop trio. Every song, and they’ve got more than they know what to do with, rushes at you with hot, sweaty, power.” Sounds, 1990

In Brett Anderson’s recent memoir, Coal Black Mornings, he writes how a fledging Suede attended gigs at the University of London Union to watch “now forgotten, marginal bands like Five Thirty” and “drench ourselves in the giddy world of dry ice and the squeal of feedback, the press of bodies and the thrill of noise”.  One can debate the contradiction of recalling something now forgotten, bristle at Brett’s use of marginal, but his description of Five Thirty as they exploded onto the live music scene in 1990 is on the money.

Placing them at the ULU is significant too as it was there during a Friday afternoon showcase organised by their friend Jon Leslie-Smith, a member of the student union, the band lit the fuse for a record company bidding war. Gary Crowley, then doing A&R for Island, recently said he thought all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once due to the band “sounding like a cross between The Jam and The Stones Roses”.

Island eventually lost out to East-West and during the following 18 months Tara Milton (vocals/bass), Paul Bassett (vocals/guitar) and Phil Hopper (drums/vocals) released five singles (most consider them EPs as the three or four tracks on every 12 inch were essential), an album and played a continuous string of electrifying live shows. A formidable and versatile act, blessed with two gifted songwriters in Tara and Paul, they then shot themselves in the foot by carelessly losing drummer Phil, then hobbled along for the best part of a stuttering and mostly silent year before being quietly to put to sleep. It was a strange end; a band whose star burned so brightly, fading away, almost unnoticed.

Five years before ‘Abstain’, then as The 5:30!, they were a second-tier Mod band. Young and inexperienced they played on a few Mod bills, most notably Clacton Mod Rally and the Mod-Aid Alldayer in Walthamstow and released their ‘Catcher In The Rye’ EP. Few would have predicted of all the Mod bands knocking around in ’85 it would be they who’d subsequently achieve a degree of commercial success and create a collection of recordings that still hold up today. No band has made an album I’ve listened to as often as Bed.

Only Tara Milton remained from that early Mod incarnation but it’s important to note here Tara’s schoolfriend Chris Drew, who tirelessly championed his mates from the start, sending off introductory articles to the network of often unforgiving Modzines and ran the grandly named 5:30 Information Service. Chris remained a constant in the band for the rest of his life: designing record sleeves, logos, backdrops, painting guitars and being a creative confidant.

Fast forward to 2018 and Tara Milton – baker boy cap jauntily placed, vintage Adidas, old Jam badge on his lapel – is sat opposite me in a pub down the road from the Small Faces’ former home in Pimlico talking about releasing his debut solo album, Serpentine Waltz, on Steve Marriott’s birthday. It’s a wonderful record that is quite rightly receiving across-the-board rave reviews. Cinematic, literate, disconcerting; a series of vignettes from the darkest corners of city life. After discussing the record (see piece in Shindig magazine) we turned our attention to Five Thirty.

What follows is an in-depth look at the band; grab a cuppa and a biscuit, make time for it. Enormous thanks to Tara for his patience at my probing – I can’t lie, I was borderline obsessed with Five Thirty, traipsing around the country nearly 25 times, cutting out every mention I’d find the music press – and his thoughtfulness and candidness in his replies. It sometimes felt these were memories that had lay dormant until I came poking around but it’s a story that hasn’t been told before. 

Read the interview at Modculture.

Serpentine Waltz is out now and available from taramilton.co.uk

WELCOME TO THE NEW BEAT GENERATION: JASON DISLEY INTERVIEW

Jason Disley is a poet and writer heavily influenced by the Beat Generation writers of the late 50s and early 60s; an influence he wears proudly on his immaculately tailored sleeve. Although stylistically and spiritually schooled in the old coffee houses and cold water apartments of San Francisco and New York, Disley is planted in the modernist here and now of the UK. His latest collection – Beat, Blues and the Rhythm of Fools – depicts jazz, blues and the escape music provides from the humdrum and horrors of everyday life, switching rhythms and thoughts, experiencing fulfilment and bewilderment. Hitting that middle ground between beatnik and modernist, Disley is a man after my own heart so thought it only right to crack open the Benzedrine inhalers to see if, like Jack Kerouac, he was “mad to talk”. He was.

Hello Jason, how are you? You’ve been described as a beat poet. Beat poets and beatniks have always been subject to ridicule yet you’ve embraced the term. What’s the appeal?

Hi Mark, yes I'm well thank you. The Beats have been a constant source of inspiration since my teens. I read Jack Kerouac's On The Road, and like many a young person trying to find themselves and their own identity, I was taken by this drive and passion for both experience, knowledge and some form of enlightenment. I likened the whole Beat thing with my own generation. Who were disillusioned with Thatcher's Britain and were searching for kicks and escapism. I was reading everything I could find about the Beats; not just the principles - Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs - but their associates, muses and writers that were like minded. Writers such as John Clellon Holmes, Amiri Baraka, Herbert Huncke, Gregory Corso and Gary Snyder. The appeal was that these people were identifiable, and real. Their stories, and poetry may have been full of surreal moments but were somehow grounded, gritty and pulled no punches. Yet at the same time could reveal romantic tapestries that could've been created by Byron and Shelley. Plus there was an almost effortless cool. The lives they lived although hard and tormented at times, experienced the coolness of being at great performances by jazz musicians. They didn't believe in segregation, both racially and sexually. They believed in both experience as well as personal growth. Things that I still admire today.

Tell me about Beat, Blues and the Rhythm of Fools: its themes, the writing process, timescale, publishing etc.

Beat, Blues and the Rhythm of Fools came about from a creative flurry after my Jazz Poetry book came out.  It was also at that period when the nation was leading up to Brexit, and the immediate aftermath. My initial plan, as with the Jazz book was to write a collection associated with Blues music, and also the subject matter of great blues songs. The idea for The Rhythm of Fools was also about the mistakes we both as individuals and collectively make. Again could easily be made into blues songs themselves. The book came together in a matter of weeks. A story in the news, or a song would inspire me and I'd just write.  I think the whole process took about three months, maybe a bit less.  As for publishing. My poetry I publish through Lulu.com a print on demand publisher. It allows me to get my work out there without huge overheads, and is a satisfactory way to self-publish if you haven't got a lot of money. I should think Jack Kerouac and co would've taken full advantage of such a publisher if they had been around in the digital age. I like the whole punk/mod ethos of getting off your backside and doing it yourself.

It’s quite a different collection to your previous Jazz Poetry – Improvisations In Language which felt like series of love letters to jazz yet there’s a far greater feeling of unrest and bewilderment now. In the introduction and afterword you worry about the degree of maudlin. They didn’t come across to me like that.

I suppose I mention the maudlin aspect because for me at a personal level - things I see around me are somewhat disturbing and sad. Society doesn't seem to have learned a lot from the past. Racism is still rife - innocents are being killed in seemingly pointless wars - there is a return to the whole east versus west with people becoming wary of their neighbours due to what is being spoon fed by the media. Real talent is being pushed underground again - which is in some ways isn't a bad thing as when they are discovered they seem more relevant - but at the same time there isn't enough of a voice from the current generation making itself heard. The period of style and music tribes which I grew up with is becoming less noticeable. I suppose another reason why I like the Beats is because they were considered anti- establishment. For me being anti- establishment you have more freedom of expression, and can be more artistic.

Many pieces in the latest book, to me, sounded quite loud, if that’s makes sense. I instantly imagined them being read/performed out loud in public. Is that how you envisaged them?

Not initially. I have always written in a more natural conversational way - so can see why other people have come to that way of thinking. I initially wrote them just to be read but have often read them out loud in the comfort of my own home. It wasn't until November 5th 2016 that the whole idea of performance and reading out loud to an audience came about. The Vinyl Avengers – Ian and Jade - a pair of local Mod DJ's put on an event called the Big Bang. French Boutik were headlining and it was an event that I was happy to attend as it was raising money for the Teenage Cancer Trust. Ian and Jade invited me on to their online radio show to talk about my books a few days before the event and I was invited to bring my books to the event to sell on the night. It was then on the night that the very lovely and elegant Gabriela Giacoman - the female lead of French Boutik approached me and asked if I would join the band on stage and read one of my poems. Naturally I was both honoured and a little nervous at this opportunity - but took my chance and did as she asked. Taking to the stage a little while later, with Serge Hoffman on guitar, and Zelda Aquil lightly brushing the skins using their tune ‘Hitch A Ride’ I read my poem ‘Fabric’ to an audience of around 150 or so Mods. Gabriela stood to one side nodding her head and clicking her fingers in time on the stage. It was a wonderful personal moment that really made me feel that indeed my poetry is worthy of being performed. From this moment new opportunities are arising, and like some of the original Beats - performance is becoming part of what I do.

Jason Disley with French Boutik, November 2016 (Photo by Kev Walsh)

Some sections felt – particularly some of the rhymes –  they’d been written quickly using Kerouac’s spontaneous prose technique. Kerouac wrote about “first thought, best thought”, would you subscribe to that viewpoint?

Totally!  The spontaneous approach is what I am all about. I do very little in the way of editing when I write. I want it to be raw and real. I don't do much in the way of planning, apart from obviously reading other writers and listening to music - when I sit down to write I just let it come naturally. When I re-read I may swap a stanza round or change a word here and there but on the whole my writing is pretty much as I wrote it the first time. Hence sometimes rhythmically my writing may stutter in flow and go on a tangent like when a jazz musician improvises and takes a tune in a different direction.

Poetry is a hard sell. How should people approach it? What do you look for in poetry and how does is differ from standard prose?

For me poetry has to resonate personally on some level. Once you have written something it becomes its own creature. Like all art its subjective. What it means to you can be something else to someone else. It never ceases to amaze me when someone who has read what you have written and perceives something different from what you thought you intended. It opens your eyes to the way people think, but also as to how you also see things. As for how to approach it? Don't be afraid to have a go. Just do it.  Try not to be held to a particular style. Rhyming poetry can be fun but is often forced. I may use the odd rhyming couplet for rhythm's sake but will often leave that style as my train of thought takes me elsewhere. I will make an observation or statement that takes me away from the obvious. It’s about the thought process and emotions I feel at the time. I often return to themes that mean a lot to me - such as escape, and the feelings that both music and dance convey.

What about songs? It’s apparent how important music is to you. Do you see any of your work as drafts for songs? Have you been in bands, made music?

I've not been in any bands, my singing voice isn't the most tuneful. Although I've flirted with trumpet, guitar and keyboards - I am far from being an accomplished musician.  A friend of mine once "borrowed" a poem called ‘The Party is Over’ which is the last poem in my book The New Beat Generation and Other Spontaneous Verse. Unbeknownst to me I went to a local bar to see him and his band play. He suddenly introduced halfway through his set a song that was a new song written by a close friend, and then went into a tune that had my lyrics! I was flattered and found it a little bit surreal having my own words being sung to me. As for making music - I will leave that to musicians - lyrics on the other hand - I don't mind having a go - or being approached with regards to some of my poems being turned into songs.

Tell me about ‘The Misfortune of a Buddhist Mod’. That dichotomy between the Buddhist philosophy of craving contributing to suffering (or unhappiness) and the materialistic nature of Mod is something I’ve thought about often so was good to see you try to tackle the question.

I wouldn't say I am particularly religious, but Buddhism - I find very interesting. It’s that whole personal thing of finding yourself and becoming enlightened that fascinates me. Being both a Mod and Buddhist seems a contradiction because of the materialistic nature of being a Mod. Having been interested in the whole Mod thing since my early teens at the same time as reading the Beats - I have often had conflicted emotions. I can be selfish at times, and can feel guilty - then at other times, helpful and selfless. It’s just human nature -  ‘The Misfortune of a Buddhist Mod’ is again a look at my own life and being able to come to terms with the way I am. So although not really a Buddhist, I recognize that my own personal spirituality lends its way to that train of thought. I have my own ying and yang to contend with and will always try to find that harmony that brings about happiness.

Another poem I liked was ‘Cut Up Blues’ where you’d borrowed William Burroughs’s cut-up technique. Tell me about this one. How random was it, as to my mind it’s the most beautiful poem in the book?

Thank you. It’s funny how turning to someone else's words and rearranging them can be satisfying. I love this poem too - just because how random it was. I took lines from various books and in no particular order put them together. My one mistake is that I didn't list the various books I took the lines from. I know there is some Shakespeare, and Shelley juxtaposed with Dashiell Hammett in there. For some reason it works. It tells a story of unrequited love and loss - or at least that is how I see it.

What have you got planned for 2017?

Well 2017 is set to be a very exciting twelve months.  At the end of February I hope to self-publish a new collection called Runaway Soul that initially was going to be related to soul music. But as I have written it - it has become more about escapism and searching for pleasure. Society is again brought into it, and how we live our lives in these seemingly manufactured times. Then in March, on the 24th to be precise - I will be at Blow Up! at the St Moritz Club in London. I will be reading some poetry again with both bands that night: French Boutik and Dr Bird. Then it’s a quick return to Devon to once again grace the stage at Torbay's March of the Mods on the 25th which is being hosted by The Vinyl Avengers at Murphy's in Paignton. In between all this I am also in the process of getting together a spoken word album with someone who used to work for Acid Jazz records. At this point I won't name him until things are a little more concrete. But let's just say this project is very exciting as original music is being written to go with selected poems. Once the music has been written and the final track list is decided - I will be making my debut in a recording studio to record the vocals. So watch this space as that develops. Then the other thing I want to shout from the rooftops is the publication of a novel I have written called Seven Day Fool. It’s a pulp/noir set in Manchester during 1965. This will be published by Jason Brummell's recent venture, Suave Collective Publishing. His publishing company has recently published the fantastic Ready Steady Girls book compiled by Mark Baxter, Ian Snowball and himself. Plus his own novels, which I am a big fan of - All About My Girl and All Or Nothing.  Prior to RSG he also published a book by Pete McKenna - Maradona good, Pele better, George Best. Another very interesting read. So to be associated with these writers is a great honour indeed. Having my first novel published is a dream come true.  So 2017 is going to busy, eventful and will give rise to other amazing opportunities I am sure. For now I am keeping on like I have for the last couple of years. Doing what I love most which is writing.

Jason's books are available from huge online retailers or, better still, get in touch directly by looking him up on Facebook or Twitter (@disleyrascal)

"COMPULSION SONGS IS GOING TO BE A CLASSIC WITH PEOPLE IN TIME". THE LUCID DREAM INTERVIEW

The Lucid Dream, The Lexington, London, September 2016

Formed in Carlisle, Cumbria in 2008, The Lucid Dream have just released their third album, the magnificent Compulsion Songs. Monkey Picks caught them at the Lexington in London the day before release and is still slightly in awe with what it witnessed. It’s been a pleasure to watch them develop and progress over the years from being initially attracted by their (then) Mary Chain sound to the unstoppable dubby, psych rock, Krautrock juggernaut they’ve become. One of the most innovative bands around at the moment their live shows are phenomenal; managing to harness raw power, imagination and hypnotic grooves to move the body and the mind.

The Lucid Dream are Mark Emmerson (vocals, guitars, synths, melodica), Wayne Jefferson (guitars, synths), Mike Denton (bass) and Luke Anderson (drums, percussion). Mark kindly spared some time to chat about the album, being a genuinely independent band from Carlisle, psychedelia and the albums that influenced Compulsion Songs.

Let’s start with the new album, Compulsion Songs. Did you have an idea in mind, leading off the previous album, or was it ‘let’s just see what comes out’?

I think it's a natural progression from the second album, The Lucid Dream. I look back at our debut, Songs of Lies and Deceit, which took four long years to complete and think it is a band finding their identity whilst borrowing heavily; let’s be honest, the Spacemen 3 debut was very like that. These last two albums I think have put us in a class of our own, and it is no secret many share that opinion. No band are covering the genres in one release that we are. Compulsion Songs is going to be a classic with people in time, I can sense it.

Was it pieced together over an extended period or done during one concentrated period of recording?

Surprisingly this album was very simple and constructed from a recording/mixing view. After recording 'Bad Texan' for a single in November 2015 we knew we should strike while the iron was hot, and recorded the album over February-June 2016. We spent five days recording it at Whitewood Studios, Liverpool, with Rob Whiteley and the way of working was that I had all the songs ready, we literally spent a day rehearsing each - the joys of being in a band who are shit-hot and know each other perfectly - and then off to the studio to record it a few days later.

What's your recording process like?

Everything was very structured really, and we laid the guide takes down second or third attempt. 'I'm A Star In My Own Right' - the morning I showed the guys the song, we then played it a couple of times in the room, and literally were grinning at each other thinking 'that's it!'. Fourth time we ever played that song together was the album take. Only 'Epitaph' required a lot of work in the rehearsal room, which is no surprise given it's 11 minutes long. We recorded '21st Century' and most of 'Nadir' on a Friday afternoon, 12 hours later we were in Barcelona to play. A productive weekend to say the least. Also, I knew with family commitments, I became a father for the first time last October, that we couldn't afford in time terms to ponder on mixes endlessly. I also knew from obsessively mixing the last album that you soon lose perspective and love for the album for a short while too.

All your releases have been via your own Holy Are You Recordings. What are the advantages and disadvantages of working this way?

Self-releasing for us has been amazing. The advantage is that we take full ownership/proceeds from the sales. A huge shout-out has to go to Guy Sirman at Southern Record Distribution. Without him/them we would not be able to put the albums out. We are now in a position where we can put a record out without having to pay upfront for it, and then see it distributed in the best possible manner. The downside is that we can only have a certain reach whilst being DIY. We employ our own PR in UK but we deserve to be getting full releases throughout the world with thorough PR campaigns.

How does it affect sales?

We are punching way above our weight self-releasing. This album has been one of the top sellers at the independents, and I have been told that had we have went through the corporate route that we would probably be charting top 50 this week, and very likely top 10 on the vinyl chart. No word of a lie, when we put an album up for pre-order our inbox is flooded. We had 100 direct copies of this new album and they sold out in a couple of hours. The figures at the likes of Piccadilly and Norman have been abnormally high.

Music, like the majority of work in the creative arts, appears to have become marginalized these days. Is being in a band like yours financially difficult to sustain, particularly with touring?

We do well in that respect, which I guess stems from self-releasing. We pay for absolutely everything - recording, mastering, PR, art etc. The only thing we don't directly pay for are the manufacturing costs. We always do well out of albums though as they sell very well for our level and touring does well for us too. We aren't a band to be careless in the studio so studio costs really are minimal. We can get a song-a-day recorded, easy.

Do you think some have an issue with you bringing out your releases? Certainly if you self-publish books people’s attitude is often it must be a bit crap if no ‘real’ publisher will touch it.

I think the people mainly to be culprits of that are the bigger label/agent arseholes and pretentious websites. Let's be honest, a self-released band from Carlisle isn't marketable but the proof is out there to see that we have a very intelligent, non-judgemental, comparatively large fanbase. We aren't a band to suffer fools gladly, and the message to all those judging us without listening is 'fuck you'.

The reviews for Compulsion Songs have been uniformly positive but I remember Shindig! magazine giving you a bit of a hard time in the early days. How do you react to criticism?

Shindig! were pretty critical a few years back. The first time was when 'Heartbreak Girl' was released in 2011, and the writer in question accused us of jumping on the psych bandwagon. The irony of that statement was that we had been this for four years at that point and 'Heartbreak Girl' isn't remotely psychedelic, or claims to be. The other time was when we played Liverpool Psych Fest in 2013. We drew one of the biggest, most receptive crowds of the weekend. The writer claimed the crowd were bored or something like that. My simple reply to that - how did our crowds go the following two years? A rhetorical question.

What about your geography? I think you’ve said if you weren’t from Carlisle and was from a “trendier” big city you’d receive more coverage. With communication easier these days via social media and whatnot does where you’re from make any difference?

The problem is that people can't take you seriously in certain areas if you're from a northern 'uncool' city like Carlisle. It is ridiculous and unfortunately is an issue that will never go away. There’s a kind of geographical discrimination that happens in the industry. Also, coming from Carlisle means that you need to work extra hard to get recognition. There's no 'scene' here, people aren't going to be passing your disc around to promoters, writers etc. Once we started in 2008 we went out and played shows in the northern cities, lost a lot of money in the process but made an impact. Every show somebody would be saying 'we've not seen a band as good as you in years' and word-of-mouth developed. If you're from Leeds, you're half-good and play a gig at the local pub you've got the NME and shite like that on speed-dial. Thankfully, in Carlisle that's not a possibility and you've got to work extra hard to get out there; the nearest city is an hour away. We can genuinely say we've never had any 'label interest' ever, not that we care. When we recorded our last album in Liverpool majors were sending scouts up on a weekly basis to look at signing bands who had played a handful of gigs. Says it all.

Mark Emmerson, The Lucid Dream

Let's talk about labels, ‘psych’ in particular. Handy shorthand for journalists or restrictive pigeonhole for musicians?

In fairness, we are a band that's hard to pin down. We're dabbling in psych, dub, garage rock, krautrock. I guess all have 'psychedelic' elements so appreciate we have to accept that as a pigeonhole. To me bands like The Flaming Lips at present, a band who are genuinely weird, do the unexpected and are unhinged are psychedelic, but psychedelic to most appears to be 'has flanger/delay/reverb pedal, haircut and leathers.' To us it means experimental, challenging music. And fuck the leathers and get the shit hats off, get some Adidas, Lacoste, Fred Perry and Paul and Shark on you posers!

How would you describe your music?

Experimental but also in touch with classic pop music. The thing that makes us stand out is that musically we are on fire, but we also know what a great song entails.

What do you want to achieve with the Lucid Dream that you’ve not done so far?

We often have this conversation, and we've achieved more than we ever expected. Initial ambitions were to get a release on vinyl, play outside of Carlisle – honestly! - and have a top time. We've done all those, but also had a lot of records out, played 20 countries and done a few 6 Music sessions, to name a few. The present to-do list for me would be topped by a Maida Vale session and a couple of USA/Americas shows.

What would be a measure of ‘success’?

Has somebody said you have changed their life? If so, that's all. We have been lucky enough to have that acclaim several times. Even things like a fan having 'You & I' as their first dance at their wedding, it doesn't get much better than that.

Further listening. The Lucid Dream’s guide to the five main records to help shape Compulsion Songs:

Neu! – ‘75 (Brain, 1975)

"This is the album that got the ball rolling with this album. Tracks like 'Nadir' and 'Epitaph' are based around that whole motorik beat. You could play those patterns for days and not get bored of it. Love this album. Changed everything. "

Jah Wobble - The Legend Lives On… Jah Wobble In ‘Betrayal’ (Virgin, 1980)

"One of the main components for the dub influences on this album. Jah Wobble is a perfect example of an Englishman who took on board the genius music from Jamaica and inspired it as his own. Something we are tapping into. Check out 'Tales from Outer Space.'"

Singers and Players - War of Words (99 Records, 1981)

"Adrian Sherwood produced dub/and more. Amazing album, all very sparse but proves less is more. Some excellent 'toasting' on this album. We were going to have somebody toast on this album but shelved the idea. Maybe next time!"

Joy Division – Closer (Factory, 1980)

"One of the greatest albums ever. Ian Curtis lyrically on this album was such an inspiration. Dark, dark music, but the impact is second to none. Ian was an example of what you could do with a limited range. One of the all-time heroes. The synths and drum/bass patterns on this album were imperative for forming 'Epitaph' and 'Bad Texan'. 'A Means To An End' has that dance element that 'Bad Texan' does."

Primal Scream – XTRMNTR (Creation, 2000)

Aggressive, confrontational, experimental rock 'n' roll. Everything The Lucid Dream are about live is "in that sentence, and without this album we wouldn't be. See '21st Century' or the last section of 'Epitaph' for reference."

 Follow The Lucid Dream on Twitter or Facebook. Get Compulsion Songs from Holy Are You. 

"I THINK YOU NEED THE STAIRS IN YOUR LIFE". THE STAIRS INTERVIEW (2016)

The Stairs (Ged, Edgar, Paul). Photo by Mark McNulty

After a 20 year absence, The Stairs surprised many last November by reforming for a hometown gig at Liverpool’s Kazimier Club. The night saw a triumphant return to the stage for cryogenically frozen Edgar Summertyme, Ged Lynn and Paul Maguire who blew away the assembled masses with a set of their frazzled beat classics and a couple of new additions as if it were yesteryear. Such was the success of that night they’ve been inspired to play a few more shows, starting next Thursday 24 March when they headline the first night of Le Beat Bespoke festival in London. Also appearing that night will be the added attraction of Graham Day & the Forefathers, so it promises to be a great night.

Le Beat Bespoke organisers, The New Untouchables, asked me to attempt to interview the band for their Nutsmag. Despite being told singer/bassist Edgar was “harder to pin down than Giant Haystacks” both he and drummer Paul Maguire kindly took the time answer a few questions.

The Stairs first came to most people’s notice after you signed to Go! Discs and released ‘Weed Bus’ in 1991. Can you tell us a bit about the formation of the band and your history up to that point?

Paul: Me and Edgar met on a youth music scheme around ‘89, we had a similar music interest of ‘60s garage punk. Ed had a few tunes he had written including ‘Weed Bus’, which we jammed and me and him started there. Ed knew Ged who was on the same music scheme so we roped him in. We skinned up and we got it together. We had our own night every Friday in the Cosmos club where we played a set of covers, then we’d DJ, then we would play our numbers.

Edgar: We were just psychedelically attached friends having a laugh really in bedrooms and bedsits with acoustic guitars banging ashtrays etc. Eventually we were borrowing the only spare time in my bro’s pracky room with a friend Pete Baker (the sleeping Mexican on LP sleeve) on bass and me on guitar. Pete didn’t really take to the bass so things were slow. We gradually gained some momentum when I joined in Ian McCulloch’s group on bass (mid ‘89) and took over the bass duties in the group. It wasn’t till we played and handful of our songs at a ridiculously rammed New Year’s Eve party (1990) at Mike Mooney’s house that we realised that we were capable of pleasing anyone other than ourselves. Marc Riley was often in attendance at the Cosmos club and Alan Duffy from Imaginary records came to check us and plans were formulated to record our first EP (later sold on to Go! Discs) with them.

The first couple of EP sleeves and the shows around that time featured a fourth member, Jason. What was his role and what happened to him?

Edgar: Jason was a friend whose role was originally, in his words, as ‘personal manager’ but eventually we managed to coax him on-stage to play percussion, gob iron and keys as required. I don’t think he really took to the role as he would come and go frequently from the group. The comparisons to Bez and Eric Idle didn’t really help I suppose.

Paul: Jason was meant to be our manager in the beginning, but he wasn’t any good at that stuff. So we gave him a harmonica and maracas which he played. Haven’t seen him for years.  

Go! Discs seemed to understand where the Stairs were at: recording in mono, strong 60s artwork etc. How was your relationship with them and why did it come to an end? What was their expectation of the band you signed?

Edgar: Thanks to being well-managed at the time by Pam Young we went to them with a strong vision of how we wanted things to look and I think they had fun what with it being a little different from their norm at the time. Our A&R man initially was Carl Smyth (Chas Smash from Madness). We were his first signing and he was very accommodating and enthusiastic. Unfortunately Madness reformed shortly a few months after our LP came out. With no key man clause in contract that was where our troubles began.

Paul: Carl really loved our band. He got us the deal, liked all the artwork and the mono deal. He understood our band and was good dealing with us. When Carl left there was no one there who understood the band. They thought we were a bit of a joke and didn’t know what to do with us.

Mexican R’n’B is, quite rightly, regarded is a classic LP. How did you feel about it when it came out and how do you view it now?

Edgar: Why thank you sir! How I felt at the time is a complex affair I’d need Sigmund Freud and couch and a few hours to get to the bottom of that. I’m definitely happier now as it seems to have stood the test of time. We definitely created a little slice of the 60’s in the early 90’s there.

Paul: I loved that album then and I still love it now. I’m very proud to have been involved and made Mexican. We were still all learning our instruments and grooves and singing when we recorded it. I thought at the time and I still think it now that Edgar is a genius. His songs and playing were so fucking cool. We were recording this at a time most of the world was getting into acid house. We wanted to give the general public something else to listen to. Get them on the ‘Weed Bus’ so to speak.

Talking of which, people often refer to your marijuana singles – ‘Weed Bus’, ‘Mary Joanna’ – but I’ve always noticed the preoccupation with rain on Mexican R’n’B, at least three songs mention it. Any correlation?

Paul: Well you’d have to ask Edgar that. Personally I like rain, except when it gets me spliff wet at the bus stop.

Edgar: I was probably because I was spending too much time in Manchester as their retrogressive shopping experience has always been far superior to ours despite the constant rain!

After being released from Go! Discs you were still gigging, recording and exploring different styles. How was the band developing at that time and why didn’t a second album materialise?

Edgar: Looking back I think we were too eager to move on from the Mexican R’n’B sound, we should have made another three of those really, and with having no one at Go! to recognise this - not that we’d have listened- and with the copious amounts of weed being smoked I think we just wanted our music to be more mad really both structurally and sonically. The fact that I was just starting wholeheartedly to discover soul music too just confused matters. We we’re constantly demoing but Go! weren’t prepared to let us start a new LP as such. This went on for about two years and then we left the label.

Paul: We started to sound a bit heavier, and we got better at playing. We loved touring always a good laugh. But it was hard to get any backing; we weren’t being taken seriously by any record company or music papers. We spent all our money recording the second album, so at the end no one wanted to release it.

Viper Records eventually released Who Is This Is. What are your thoughts on that? Is that how you’d envisaged the second album?

Edgar: After leaving Go! we thought it a good idea to record the LP ourselves. A long-winded complicated affair with members coming and going. By the time it was done we’d about run out of speed hence it not seeing the light of day till Viper’s release.

Paul: I’m glad we did it, for me it has some great moments. But looking back it also sounds confused, which I suppose we were also at the time.

How did you feel about the reaction from your reunion gig in Liverpool? Had you kept in touch? Is it something you’d thought about over the years?

Edgar: Absolutely smashing! We’d all kept in touch but our paths only ever brought us together sporadically but usually only two of us in same room at same time. The first rehearsal was great when we kicked into ‘Mary Jo’ it was more like we’d had two weeks off rather than 20+ years. It was great to see the two tiers in our fan base that night: those who were older and were coming back to see us again and the young uns who were there to witness the legend that got created by word of mouth in the past 20 years. The crowd reaction was fantastic; I don’t think either tier felt let down.

Paul: The reunion gig was magik, the reaction was just overwhelming for all of us I think. Incredible, old fans, new fans. They knew all the words, ha ha. I’ve always bumped into Ed round town when I’m there as I live in Reykjavik. I hadn’t seen Ged for years. We all moved in slightly different circles. I’d been hoping we could do at least one gig for a few years. And when Mike from the Wicked Whispers called me up, it felt exactly right. With the amount of toss that goes by the name of music nowadays, I think you need the Stairs in your life.

The Stairs, Kazimier, November 2015

What are the plans for the band now? Will you be recording new material?

Paul: We’re not sure just yet. Anything can happen in the next half hour.

There’s a new Stairs collection, The Great Lemonade Machine In The Sky, out now. Tell us about what’s on that.

Edgar: I’d recently found a suitcase full of cassettes in the loft at my mum’s that I thought had been thrown out when I’d left home way back. The previous Viper comp had come from the collections of friends and colleagues with my own thought lost at the time. So the idea was to create a second volume of Right In The Back Of Your Mind [2007 odds and sods compilation]. I spent a fair bit of time trawling through them (lots were mix tapes etc.) and mixing down the 4-tracks where available and it was a real nice touch that it all came together in time for the reforming of the group.

‘Shit Town’ is a pretty mad single taken from it and might come as a bit of surprise to people who only know Mexican R’n’B. What was the story behind it and is it about anywhere in particular?

Paul: You’d have to ask Ged. It’s obviously about Liverpool. The city was a lot different from it is now. On the other hand…

Edgar: It’s primarily about Liverpool if I’m right, Ged? It was definitely one of the finest finds of the suitcase trawling. It was recorded during second LP sessions. What you’re listening to is a remastered monitor mix. It was mixed with the others as Ged had left the group by that point.

Which are your favourite three Stairs songs and why?

Edgar: ‘Weed Bus’ will always be big in my heart as it was my first song written in the Stairs style as such. Although it’s not our song I’ve always been proud of our arrangement of [Bo Diddley's]‘You Don’t Love Me’. I guess to pick a third from the rest it’d be ‘Right In The Back Of Your Mind’ as it’s pretty kick ass and stress free to play out live, well for me anyhow.

Paul: ‘Woman Gone and Say Goodbye’. It’s just the best of us: growly, beaty, big and bouncy. ‘Mundane Monday’ I think it’s such cool little groove, and we sing about rain. ‘Skin Up’. I love playing this live, but it’s a bit tricky to skin up and play the drums at the same time. I used to do it back in the days.

Follow The Stairs on Twitter and Facebook. See the original unedited version of the above interview at Nutsmag. Full Le Beat Bespoke details, including a Saturday night gig by another Monkey Picks favourite Jim Jones & The Righteous Mind, here. For archive 1994 Monkey Picks/Something Has Hit Me interview with The Stairs see here. 

GET YER SKINS TOGETHER, THE STAIRS ARE BACK ON THE BUS!

The Stairs, Isle of Wight, August 1993: Ged Lynn, Paul Maguire, Edgar Jones

The Stairs are back. On 26 November, over twenty years since their last performance, Edgar Jones (then Summertyme), Ged Lynn and Paul Maguire play a hometown reunion gig at the Kazimier in Liverpool. For a brief moment in the early 90s it appeared their big boss beat might crossover into the mainstream and whilst debut single ‘Weed Bus’ became something of a classic and their LP Mexican R’n’B sounds as good today as it did then, they fizzled out of the public eye after label Go Discs short-sightedly released them.

In early 1994 I interviewed Edgar for issue three of my fanzine, Something Has Hit Me, and it caught them at an experimental and ambitious time, excited by the possibilities of where their music could take them and what they could achieve. Unfortunately, they didn’t release another record during their lifetime and folded not long after. A second album Who Is This Is, which featured much of the material Edgar mentioned and was part of their live set at that time, quietly sneaked out on Viper many years after their demise. The same label this month releases a new odds and sods compilation, The Great Lemonade Machine In The Sky, including demos, live songs and alternative versions. Also, a limited edition 45, the Beefheartesque bonkers 'Shit Town' is pulled from the album. 

With drummer Paul now based in Iceland don’t expect The Stairs to return full time so any chance you get to see them, grab it. In the meantime, let’s go back to ’94, that fanzine article and enjoy a few previously unseen photos…

Something Has Hit Me: In 1991/1992, The Stairs released four great EPs and an outstanding LP, Mexican R’n’B. Everything they did was geared to being as authentically 60s sounding as possible, right down to having Go Discs release their records in mono only. Their sound was an accurate blend of Pretty Things, Chocolate Watchband and early Stones, anything modern was frowned upon Hand in hand with this was their well-documented love and use of dope, with two of their singles, ‘Weed Bus’ and ‘Mary Joanna’, being less than subtle in sentiment. Even their t-shirts bore the legend “Superstars of Smoking”.

The last eighteen or so months have seen an almost complete silence from the band, only popping up occasionally for the odd low key gig. Now in 1994, they’ve started to gig more regularly again. Something Has Hit Me talked to singer and chief songwriter, Edgar Summertyme.

You did a live session for GLR (Greater London Radio) this morning. How was it?

It was sound. Boss like. A good buzz getting up early in the morning and going down and playing. It was a good room to play in, as it was the first time I’ve heard everyone in the band properly for ages. We did two new songs that went out live, ‘Skin Up For Me Baby’ and ‘It Was Alright’. We’re trying out a few different bags at the moment. Like the way we’re playing and getting into different things. One of those songs is quite heavy and the other is more Tamla. We’re just trying to see what fits best, cos since we’ve left Go Discs we’ve become a different band really.

So you’ve left Go Discs then? Is that why you’ve been so quiet?

Yeah, that’s right. The fella that signed us left the company and then we had a big patch with no money coming in and that.

Have you gone anywhere and signed with someone else?

We’re not gone anywhere, we’ve looking at the moment. Tonight’s our first sort of showcase (at the Bass Clef in Hoxton). We’ve still got the publishing deal with Warner Chappell though, that’s important. They even had ‘Russian Spy and I’. They actually own that song but had to phone Holland and go through all their old records to check they owned it.

I thought the promotion you got from Go Discs was quite good.

Yeah it was quite reasonable like. They put us about a bit and all that. But the head man there now just isn’t into our bag. He’s just into pop records. We were getting harder and heavier and generally better and better at playing, but he isn’t a man that listens to the rhythm section or a record, he just listens for the twee lead singer. He likes twee lead singers and I could never sing like that.

You said about getting into different things, I saw you’re at the Isle of Wight last August (1993) and your sound was quite different, heavier in places and it seemed some was improvised.

Yeah, it was the San Franciscan thing really, that we got into. We’re trying to take that sound and modernize it. The thing is today, there’s a lot of good bands around but they’re not playing with real good taste. But I think that you can do something with modern music and make it tasty. I mean, there’s the occasional moments of Lenny Kravitz that are alright, you know what I mean, but he hasn’t the je ne sais quoi to quite pull it off. People will just have to wait for us. We just want to see a British band that’s as good as say the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and things like that. They’re quite good but they’ve got such a shit singer.

So it’s not just a case of recreating that 60s sounds anymore?

No, we want to take it further now. Because as musicians we’d just die, we’d be cabaret and that’s not a good place to be. I’ve got all the respect in the world for bands like The Aardvarks and that, who are carrying on doing that, bit I just don’t think it’s for us to carry on in that vein forever. Although, having said that, I’m looking back a bit further as well as looking forward. Listening to Sun Ra, Ornette Coleman, there’s more of that to be learnt. Captain Beefheart-isms. There’s a lot of ways to go. You don’t have to be Led Zep to take your music into the future. Things like Little Richard. There’s a lot to Little Richard than you realise because of all those 70s bands doing versions of his songs. But if you listen they sound like a lot of those early Stax records from the late 50s, if you listen closely.

Do you listen to a lot of soul music?

Yeah, you can learn a lot from that. The way the bands played together. The way they make room for someone to do something. I’ve learnt so much from that. I’ve always liked Motown and stuff but recently I’ve been playing Willie Mitchell, Garland Green, Jimmy McGriff and early James Brown instrumentals, things like that.

Have you recorded any new material?

We’re recorded a few demos and that but we’re looking to record some more when we get the money. We’ve got so much material to get through. We’re about a year behind my writing now, so we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

Will those songs just get left behind?

Yeah a lot of it will but songs go through rebirths. Sometime they go through very big changes. If I decide I don’t like the arrangement or something I’ll do a “tribute” arrangement. Like on ‘No One Knows’, I hated the arrangement so we did a bit of an Easybeats tribute, 1966 style. So, you’ve always got all that to choose from. Having said what I did earlier, we’ll always bring up things from the past, but we’ll try to present them with the modern person in mind, because we want to reach as vast an audience as possible. If anything, we’d like to teach them and then give them weirdness. Get ‘em into that. Plus it would be good for the other bands as well because no one is reaching across that barrier at the moment. We want to break down that barrier.

You recorded an album of cover versions that didn’t come out, how come?

The label, Imaginary, folded. So we were unable to release it. One of the tracks that might have ended up on it was featured on a compilation. We did ‘Moonchild’ by Beefheart. It was a pretty spot on copy. It’s on 1965 Through The Looking Glass but I haven’t got a copy of it myself yet.

What about putting something out yourself?

Yeah, we’re thinking of doing a single ourselves. We’re trying out a few new ways of recording. I can’t really go into it cos someone might rob the idea but basically it’s a way of getting a modern sound that sounds like an old sound that sounds like a modern sound. Also, there’s a lot more range to this band that you don’t know about. Left Banke kinda stuff that you’ll never hear live, but they will eventually come out on albums. I love that big production stuff.

Brian Wilson?

Yeah, I was a big Smile freak for about two years. When I was 19-20 I wrote a load of soft songs. We can’t play any of them live. We were going to do an album under a different name and call it Wet Sounds but had to abandon the idea cos Go Discs weren’t into us going under a different name. We loved those songs, all nice lightweight 1966 pop songs. I was great to write those.

(There was a load of general chat here about bands having loads of great unreleased material and conversation turned back to the Easybeats).

I met George Young of the Easybeats a couple of years ago because we wanted him to produce us. But he came to tell me he didn’t produce anymore. He sat me down and gave me a two hour talk on how to look after myself in the music business, which was amazing. Because basically he’d fucked up badly. There was unreleased material of theirs left, right and centre. Albums cancelled and stuff. He just told me how to compose myself and to smoke a lot less of that stuff. Cos he used to be on it all the time and now he’s the most together man in the world. He’s just into looking after his family, which is really nice. He just told me to never forget my family.

So there you have it. A definite mellowing in The Stairs camp. Don’t worry about talk about getting modern sounding, as having heard some of the new songs live a few times I can tell you there are some real crackers there. ‘It Was Alright’ is as good a track as they’ve done previously and would have easily on Mexican R’n’B. As for some of their more experimental stuff, well, it’s simply brilliant. It may take some time before any of it sees a proper release, so make sure you go and see them live, they’ll knock yer socks off! 

The Stairs at the Bass Clef, Hoxton, 1994

Something Has Hit Me, Issue 3, April 1994

FIRST STEPS OF THE FACES: THE KENNEY JONES INTERVIEW

The new issue of Shindig! has landed so, in case you missed the previous one, here's my cover story and interview with Kenney Jones about the early days of The Faces. Grab yourself a long drink and pull up a stool...

“The Faces were really boozy, yeah, shit. Brandy and cokes, brandy and ginger, brandy and anything. It had to be Rémy Martin though. We were the Rémy band. Simultaneously we all came up with the idea to put a bar on stage. We’d dress up our roadie in a black suit, white shirt, and he’d be our barman. So when we wanted a drink he’d put it on a tray, towel over his arm, and bring it over. If anyone wanted a sit down during a gig they could go over to the bar and sit there. God knows how we got through a show. We went on slightly merry and came off absolutely fucking rat-arsed.”

Today Kenney Jones, owner of the finest drumstool CV in Britain, is sober but looking forward to a quiet pint later. “I like being straight, I like the idea of being straight, but when the Faces came along, forget it. It got to a point where I enjoyed a day off drinking. I was like wow, I’m straight, what a buzz this is.” Immaculately dressed in a blue three-piece suit with velvet collar and Italian shoes, I suggest his old Modness is still in evidence. “It never leaves you,” he says. As Kenney finishes signing posters for a new CD boxset of Small Faces Decca material he is, with his easy going Cockney charm, quietly excited about getting together with his Faces pals Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood for a charity fundraiser at his polo club. With a Faces 5-disc boxset, You Can Make Me Dance, Sing Or Anything hitting the shops I'm here to quiz him about the transition from the swinging Small Faces to the swaying Faces.    

By mid-1968 the Small Faces had long broken from the strict stuffiness of Decca and were settled into the more liberating environment of Immediate Records and provided the label with their masterpiece, Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake. Released in May, the album spent six weeks at number one, although not, as the band had hoped, as a result of shedding their young audience and finding a more fulfilling acceptance of their musical advancement but due, in part, to the success of their knockabout knees-up novelty ‘Lazy Sunday’.

“We were desperate to lose our teenybopper image, desperate,” remembers Kenney. “We only did ‘Lazy Sunday’ for a laugh; the last thing we wanted was for Andrew Oldham and Immediate to release that as a single. It was really commercial, not at all us. So there it was; another nail in our coffin. It drove Steve Marriott nuts - it drove all of us nuts - but he just couldn’t take it anymore and he was off.”

With tensions increasingly fraught with Marriott on one side and Ronnie Lane, Ian McLagan and Kenney Jones on the other, Marriott, desperate to play with Herd guitarist/singer Peter Frampton in whatever band possible, chucked down his guitar during a New Year’s Eve show at the Alexandra Palace and announced he was leaving. The Small Faces soldiered on, fulfilling contractual obligations to the gigs they had lined up, until they bowed out in inglorious circumstances at the Springfield Theatre in Jersey on March 8, 1969. ‘Tin Solder’ ended the set before Marriott jumped straight back into the fire by signing his Humble Pie, officially unveiled weeks later, straight to the label from which he’d seen little previous money. For the remaining Small Faces, the future was uncertain.

“After Marriott walked out we – me, Mac and Ronnie – were like lost. It was like losing a member of the family. So we just got together once a week in the Rolling Stones rehearsal space in Bermondsey Street, just to have a jam and so we could be together. Not knowing what we were going to do, where we were going to go, but we enjoyed doing it.”

On hearing of the spilt Ronnie Wood, then on bass duty in the Jeff Beck Group, phoned Lane to express his shock about Marriott’s actions. The Small Faces, he said, were his and fellow Beck employee Rod Stewart’s favourite group. Wood was invited to jam and was quickly integrated into the loose Bermondsey set up.

Their paths had only briefly crossed previously but Wood first made an impression on Jones and Lane after the pair had left school and were working in Selmer’s music shop in Holborn testing amplifiers. “One day the Birds, with Ronnie, came up there; we were exactly the same age. I remember looking at him like that [mimes big hair and wide-eyed disbelief]. We didn’t say boo to a goose to each other.”

The Birds, out to the west of London were a popular live attraction with their soulful yet ballsy R&B attack and strong Mod image. Their debut single, written by Wood, ‘You’re On My Mind’ came out in November 1964 and with a television appearance already under their belt were seen by the fledgling Small Faces as kindred spirits. Mention of the Birds has Kenney follow up with memories of another band cut from the same Prince of Wales cloth.  

“One of the bands I really loved from that time were the Action. I thought they were fucking excellent. They should have been the biggest thing since sliced bread. I kick myself every day and question why they weren’t. Because they were so good, their music was good enough, they were better than most people and they had a great name.”  

By 1969, the Action were in a similar situation to the Small Faces. Singer Reggie King had left and the remaining members forged on without him. With Reggie then without a band or recording deal it’s interesting to speculate how he might have filled the slot vacated by Marriott. I idly suggest Kenney could’ve asked King to join. “Humph, yeah, that’s right, we could have done,” he replies without conviction, humouring my flight of fancy.

But of course Rod Stewart proved to be the perfect choice. “After a couple of weeks Ronnie Wood bought down his mate, which was Rod Stewart. Rod sat there on the amps watching for a few weeks. He loved it.”  Like Wood, Rod had paid his dues around the live circuit, and had the Mod pedigree after stints with Steampacket, Shotgun Express, Jeff Beck Group and even deputising on occasion for an absent King in the Action. Woody knew this when inviting his buddy along but the pair played it cool with Rod watching Lane, McLagan and Wood’s half-hearted attempts at singing.

“One thing that was apparent was Steve’s powerful voice was not there. We were playing good enough music but the vocals were very polite. I kept thinking there’s a fucking great singer sat over there so I took the bull by the horns. We’d have a break in the evening and go over to the pub, drank loads and loads of brandy and cokes, shit like that, quite pissed, so I took Rod to one side and said ‘Do you fancy joining the band?’ He said ‘Yeah, do you think everyone would let me?’ He really did jump at it.”

Rod didn’t put himself forward? “No, Rod’s very careful in the way he approaches things. Rod and Woody’s wages in the Jeff Beck Group was sixty pound each, which was a lot of money in those days, but this was an opportunity to get away from them. That evening Alvin Lee of Ten Years After was having drinks round at his mews house, so I said to everybody there ‘Look, I’ve just asked Rod to join the band’ and all I got was ‘Oh no, we don’t want another prima donna, someone that’s gonna walk out on us’. But they were totally different personalities. Steve was like a little bigmouth, the Artful Dodger who turned us all into little Artful Dodgers, but Rod was Rod The Mod, he had a great personality, he was a right pisstaker and he taught us all how to be even more pisstaking.”

With the new band starting to take shape a couple of extra ingredients found themselves dipping into the mix. Woody’s brother Art, previously of the Artwoods, and Kim Gardner, formerly of Pop-Art hopefuls the Creation begin a short-lived association which saw them join forces to stagger out of the Stones’ basement and on to the stage.

“We were in there for weeks and Art said ‘Look we’ve got to get some gigs’. He got us these gigs but we never had a name because we never for once considered we’d call ourselves the Small Faces, or the Faces, or anything like that. To us it was a completely new entity and that’s what we wanted it to be, so a name would come much later. So Art went out and booked us under the name Quiet Melon. A stupid name, but we were stupid anyway. He got the name out of the air. I think he looked at a melon and said ‘That melon’s quiet’. Typical.”

A couple of tracks from this period were finally released in 1994. Kenney doesn’t recall the songs. “I don’t even remember doing it”. They offer a snapshot to those rehearsals and sound like what they are, the formative Faces – easily identifiable – but with Art Wood taking lead vocals with Rod providing backup. Unfortunately for Art, as it was through him the tracks got recorded, it’s his harsh vocal which distracts from any potential contained in ‘Diamond Joe’ and ‘Engine 4444’. With no takers for the material and after a few low-key gigs Art and Gardner’s involvement ended which left the others looking to get started in earnest.

“When it came to doing something more formal, one day we were down the Speakeasy and I bumped into Billy Gaff, who was working for Robert Stigwood at the time. We all still thought we were signed to Immediate Records. So I told Billy and he said ‘I can get you out of that, no problem’ and sure enough he did. That’s how Billy became our manager; we thought the sun shone out of his arse for that. But what we didn’t know was we were already out of it.”

What Billy Gaff failed to mention was the Small Faces contract with Immediate had already expired in June 1968, but with nothing more than a gentlemen’s handshake he set about securing a record deal. “Ian Ralfini was taking over as head of Warner’s UK. He wanted to sign us so we said great. It was only when it came to signing the contracts we went ‘Hold on a minute, it says Small Faces, we’re not the Small Faces’. They said if we didn’t have a name like Small Faces nobody knew us, so they’re signing the Small Faces. We went ‘Nah, no way’. So we had a big hoo-ha. Eventually they said they’d sign us but we wouldn’t get the money, which was to be a thirty grand advance. So between us we came to a decision that we’d sign the first album as the Small Faces – so we’d get the bloody money – and thereafter we’d be known as the Faces, as there was nothing small about us anymore. It couldn’t have been better in a sense. It saved us the bother of trying to find a name anyway and I was so pleased to get away from being called Quiet Melon”.

Preceded by the single ‘Flying’ (“A fucking great track,” says Kenney) and recorded in De Lane Lea Studios in Queensway between August ’69 and January ’70, First Step was released in March 1970, its title downplaying expectations. They needn’t have worried as the ten tracks laid the blueprint which only required fine tuning for the rest of their days: rocking and rolling, bluesy boogieing, folksy reflections and soulful instrumental grooves. The LP closed with a number inspired by the Soul Brothers Six minor 1967 hit for Atlantic, ‘Some Kind of Wonderful’, and crystalized the Faces signature sound of a rumbustious rhythm and booze house party. 

“There’s some nice songs on there,” thinks Kenney. “It’s a very honest album. What you hear on the album is what we had at the time. ‘Devotion’, that’s lovely; ‘Around The Plnyth” was one we used to play a lot on stage; ‘Stone’ was typical Ronnie Lane – ‘Once I was a stone…’ but it’s a fucking great song. With the release of the album it felt like we had a new lease of life, a breath of fresh air and we realised it wasn’t all over and we had a future. We didn’t really think about any expectations. We knew we had to make an album but we didn’t know what direction we were going in. We were finding ourselves because it was that early. We just were what we were and that’s what people loved about us. Slightly dishevelled but each one of us were fucking great competent musicians.”

First Step, which spent only one week on the UK chart (number 45 with a mullet), included two instrumentals in a Booker T & the MGs vein which ramped up the soul quota, such a strong influence running through all the Faces. “That’s right and there was in the Small Faces but we could never play it on stage because everyone wanted our hits. But when we played together in the studio we were jamming all that stuff. Loved it but then we had to go and do the dinky-dinky-dink. ‘Looking Out The Window’ was really just an instrumental jam but ‘Pineapple and the Monkey’ was more based on a Booker T kind of influence with a bit of ‘Cissy Strut’ by the Meters in there. I loved the Meters.” Kenney proceeds to play some mean funky air-drums and human beat box which this writer sadly cannot adequately do justice with the written word. 

It was the rich blend of soul and blues and the Faces approximation of it – with Rod’s sandpaper rasp, the locked-in rhythm section, the warm organ, and Woody’s country picking and bottleneck slide – which marked them out from the straight blues, heavy rock, or more progressive bands of the era. They swung. Or, as Kenney puts it, they had feel.

“The Small Faces had real telepathy. No one told me what to play and I didn’t tell them what to play. We just knew. It was almost a similar thing in the Faces but in a more ragged way. Why it worked with the Faces was because of the feel. Just feel. You played with your emotions. That’s what a musician is, that’s why we’re all sensitive people, you know. You can really upset us easily. You play you, you play what you feel. It’s no good if you feel lousy. People say to me it must be great being a drummer, you can take out all your aggression on your drums. Now, if I’m angry I don’t go anywhere near my drum kit. I play my drum kit and I respect my drum kit, I don’t take it out on my drum kit.”

As for the band name, the album was credited to Small Faces in America and, more accurately, Faces in the UK. Not that the identity crisis - which saw them billed throughout 1970 as variously Small Faces, Faces, Small Faces with Rod Stewart, Faces featuring Rod Stewart and, in a forecast of what was to come, Rod Stewart and Small Faces -  caused much confusion with few expecting to hear Rod sing ‘Tin Soldier’ or ‘Rollin’ Over’. “The Small Faces didn’t hit it off in America so the Small Faces to them were this [the Faces]. I can’t remember there being any confusion about it over here. People knew straight away it was a new band.”

 The album cover, shot by Martin Cook at designer and Ronnie Lane’s fellow Meher Baba devotee Michael McInnerney’s flat in Richmond, graphically displayed the changing times. The days of high-end Carnaby Street fashions, of dressing to adorn posters for teen mags, were behind them as they embraced the prevalent mood and strove to be judged only on the music and not an image. From today’s vantage point the Faces, in that photograph, look magnificent in an understated way. Sat on the sofa, drunk on homemade punch, their fabulous exaggerated Mod hair and couldn’t-care-less attitude is still used as a template by bands today albeit with a calculated knowingness rather than a genuine off-the-cuff stance. The honesty of the Faces music matched here by their garb.  

“I remember the picture being taken because none of us knew what to wear because we didn’t have an image. The Small Faces became very much about the image. In the Faces image didn’t come into it, it was take it or leave it. We just wore what we wanted. We didn’t even care about it that much. So we tried to look respectable and Rod was sort of Rod, because in those days he had holes in his shoes, stuff like that. He had cardboard in his shoes in this picture. And Ronnie Wood being the arty person had the book. We didn’t know what the album was going to be called. It was only after Ronnie picked up this First Step, how-to-play-guitar book, that we called it that.”

Whether the state of Rod’s dilapidated footwear was symptomatic of the band still waiting to cash their thirty grand advance or of his notorious stinginess, Kenney doesn’t say. In fact, Rod was doing okay for himself as he’d already signed a solo deal with Mercury Records prior to penning the Faces contract. “We didn’t know Rod had signed to Mercury for a solo album,” claims Kenney, “he didn’t tell us. He only signed it because they gave him an advance and there was enough to buy a Marcos sports car but then he had to do albums.”

Rod’s An Old Raincoat Won’t Ever Let You Down – complete with grubby tramp in a dirty mac chasing small children across a field as the choice of cover photograph – beat First Step to the shops in the UK and the US (where it was retitled The Rod Stewart Album and had with the dubious artwork replaced) and was followed later in 1970 by Gasoline Alley, both featuring contributions from his band mates, as Rod sought to ride two interlocking careers in tandem. In time this proved unmanageable as his solo success went stratospheric but initially it worked fine.

“Joe Moss at Warner’s and the head of Mercury Records were close friends, that’s how we worked out a deal to maintain it,” explains Kenney. “Rod should’ve been with the Faces but found he had to deliver an album, so he did. So they worked out, Mercury were sly bastards, that they released Rod’s records at the same time so we were promoting his album as much as ours. They were pushing him big time. In the end I thought it was quite a good thing, the way it worked. We both benefitted.”

The band’s schedule now increased as they gigged to promote their record, and Rod’s, especially in America. “It was amazing to tour America because we never went there with the Small Faces. We did all these clubs. The first time one we played was in Detroit with the MC5. Everyone loved us and by the time we got to Boston, or the next place, the word of mouth had gotten out, that’s how it travelled then. In those days, we’d do a gig, right from day dot, and invite the audience back to the hotel to have a party. And they came. That stayed with us all the time. That’s why we became this fun loving party band. The audience got pissed with us and we got pissed with them. And then we played music with each other, like one big family.”

That accessibility endeared them all the more to their fans. They were a proper people’s band, all sharing the same good times.  As their success escalated, so the Faces partying increased as boozing, groupies and rearranging hotels became outlets to relieve on tour boredom, proudly earning a ban from every Holiday Inn in America. “We had more fun really in the Faces than we did in the Small Faces. We could be more rebellious.” The more innocent japes would begin on the Atlantic crossing. “You wouldn’t want to fall asleep with the Faces on board. You could smoke on the plane in those days, so anyone who fell asleep would have cigarettes on them, butter, custard, anything. Butter was a great one. You’d put it on their head and it would slowly melt and go down their face and then you’d put ash in their hair.”

Even during performances nobody was safe. “You never knew what was going to happen with the Faces on stage. I think it was at Kilburn, behind the stage door was a pub, right on the corner. So, I started the drum solo off to ‘(I Know) I’m Losing You’ and I soon realised something was different, I couldn’t see them watching me anymore. All of a sudden there was no one there. I played away a bit longer. Where the fuck are they? After about twenty minutes they came back in. They’d been in the pub. I don’t even like drum solos.”

The Faces spent their days and nights in a near permanent sloshed state in a way which differed from the Small Faces. “I didn’t really drink back then and the Small Faces were more into the drugs, except me, which was why I couldn’t live with them in Westmoreland Terrace in Pimlico. All on speed, and LSD, you fucking name it. I could never do that. The most I’d have would be some uppers maybe, some blues. Moonie got me into those a bit. He’d just pick up handfuls, and I’d go ‘I’ll just take one’. I was like a bag of nerves. I could never do cocaine although I tried it. I’d be playing away like this [mimes huge rush of energy] and then all of a sudden you’d go whoop [deflating noise], it would just leave you, that buzz would just go. And then it’d come back again out of nowhere. Forget it.”

After the package tours, screaming fans and 20 minute sets the Small Faces endured only a few years earlier, playing to audiences who wanted to listen, and being in a band able to extend themselves came as blessed relief to the Faces.

“The Small Faces always wanted to be known for our musicianship as we were getting better and we wanted to lose the teenybopper image, so with the Faces it was very different, I felt like I was finally being appreciated as a drummer. I think everyone felt a little like that in the band. We were playing more meaningful stuff. We could play lovely blues, stuff like that, and not ‘Lazy Sunday’. That’s what we wanted to be and why Marriott and Humble Pie got the head start on us, got to American before us, but we overtook them and it happened really quickly.”

It certainly did. 1971 was an incredible year for the Faces, far outstripping any expectations. The band released two more albums, Long Player and A Nod’s As Good As A Wink… To A Blind Horse, plus Rod’s Every Picture Tells A Story went to number one simultaneously on both sides of the Atlantic with the single ‘Maggie May’ inescapable. They were now major league box office and until they spilt in 1975 enjoyed all the trappings that brought. “For a while we were more successful than the Stones, believe it or not,” says Kenney.

I ask Kenney if he wishes to sum up his days with the Faces but it’s clear he has no intention of ringing last orders just yet. “No, not really. I’m still having a good time.” Raise your glasses, to the Faces.

This article first appeared in the 50th Birthday Issue of Shindig!, published 11 September 2015