GEORGIE FAME - MOD CLASSICS: 1964-1966

A fabulous new Georgie Fame collection, Mod Classics: 1964-1966, was released on Monday and Monkey Mansions has swung to little else all week. To read my gushing review, see over at Modculture. Rather than repeat it here, let’s instead watch the man at the NME Poll Winners Party, Wembley in 1965. You’ll have to grit your teeth to get past Jimmy Saville but it’ll be worth it.

Georgie Fame – Mod Classics: 1964-1966 is released by BGP.

JANUARY PLAYLIST

What a long month that was. These have kept the spirits up.

1. Hank Mobley – “Three Way Spilt” (1963)
A Blue Note LP No Room For Squares – with Hank donning the shades and balancing an inch of ash off the end of his fag – is always going to look the business casually (yet oh-so-deliberately) positioned on view in any sophisticated hipster abode. Sounds alright an’ all.

2. Georgie Fame and The Blue Flames – “Monkeying Around” (1965)
Fame’s new Mod Classics collection contains not one but two monkey related songs. Would have been a stewards enquiry if he’d failed to make this month’s picks.

3. Dusty Springfield – “I’ve Been Wrong Before” (1965)
If we ignore the ugly blemish of “La Bamba”, Ev’rything’s Coming Up Dusty is a beautiful album. Difficult to pick one track but this gets the nod for its Scott Walkeresque arrangement and production.

4. The Chocolate Watchband – “Don’t Need Your Lovin’” (1967)
The Watchband out stone the Stones with this snarling one-fingered garage salute. I met Dave Aguilar, singer and writer of this once. He was backstage after a gig and I asked him all sheepishly if he wouldn’t mind signing a record. “Yeah man, just give me a minute will ya?” He was a bit off. He was stood in his underpants.

5. Lou Donaldson – “Snake Bone” (1968)
After using the ultra-modish Peggy Moffitt for his cover star on previous albums, Lou played the Black Power card next and stuck a couple of right-on sisters on the front of Say It Loud. Not one of his most inspired LPs but the title track and “Snake Bones” cut an acceptable soul-jazz rug.

6. Keith Jarrett – “Mortgage For My Soul (Wah Wah)” (1972)
This is what we want: freaky duelling horns and what sounds like Rolf Harris’s wobble board played through a wah wah pedal.

7. Primal Scream – “Silent Spring” (1987)
The Scream’s Sonic Flower Groove always strikes me as the younger sugar spun sister of the first Stone Roses album. Of the two, I’d date Bobby’s mob.

8. Sonic Youth – “Mary-Christ” (1990)
Back in my Indie DJ days of the early 90s I never played this. I hereby apologise to the regulars at Freak Scene, Sticky Wicket and Club Skinny for such an appalling oversight. Would’ve sounded the business next to The Pixies’ “Debaser”.

9. Suede – “She’s In Fashion” (1999)
Time to borrow your sister’s blouse once more, Suede are back. Bernard won’t be there swishing his mane but plenty of Brett’s clunky couplets (“She’s employed where the sun don’t set/ She’s the shape of a cigarette”) will be, as will I. Note to Suede: Please do “To The Birds”. I thank you.

10. The Jim Jones Revue – “Elemental” (2009)
The Jim Jones Revue don’t simply raise the rock ‘n’ roll bar but incinerate it.

J. D. SALINGER - HE DEAD

Writer, piss drinker and recluse, J. D. Salinger, died yesterday aged 91.

I've read The Catcher In The Rye so many times the pages practically turn themselves. That's my copy above. No way was that Penguin going on the fire.

For a proper obituary, check the New York Times

NAT FINKELSTEIN: FROM ONE EXTREME TO THE ANOTHER

Ten years ago I co-ran a psychedelic club - Orange Sunshine - in Shoreditch and we received an email from Nat Finkelstein. He said he was coming to London, staying at such-and-such hotel, and wouldn’t it be good to meet up. I already had his book Andy Warhol: The Factory Years 1964-1967, so knew of his time photographing the collected freaks from there, but fearing one of those so-what-do-we-talk-about-now-I’m-trapped-with-no-where-to-go-looking-at-my-watch-and-feet moments, I made up some excuse.

Looking again at his pictures, this time at the Idea Generation Gallery, five minutes from my old club, I’m having one of those you-stupid-plonker-what-an-opportunity-wasted moments. This – as we see - was a man who clicked away as Warhol met Dylan, who took pictures of the Velvet Underground, of Nico, of Edie Sedgwick, of Marcel Duchamp even. Who was a political activist closely associated with the Black Panthers, a drug addict wanted by the authorities, who fled the country in fear for his life. And I was worried we’d have nothing to talk about.

There are some later works but the bulk here are his grainy black and white images from the Factory era. Nat studied photography under the art director at Harper’s Bazaar, so knew his onions, but with subjects like these it was hard for him to go wrong, at least as far as the pictures were concerned. In his book he pulled no punches and there wasn’t much love lost between him and some of Andy's Superstars by the time his stint ended there. He wrote:

“They thought they were special; that was their delusion. They thought they were unique; that was their conceit. They thought they were indistinguishable; that was their downfall. Like creatures from a horror flick they emerged from the swamps of middle America crying the infectious cry of the mutant, “I need creatures who resemble me.””

Finkelstein died last October, aged 76. The mutants are on display until 14th February.

Nat Finkelstein: From One Extreme To The Other is at the Idea Generation Gallery, 11 Chance Street, London E2 until 14th February 2010. Admission free.

BILLY CHILDISH - PENGUIN BOOK BURNING

The movers and shakers from the underground writing scene were out in force on Thursday for Billy Childish’s reading and book burning (see last Sunday’s post). Was good to meet the likes of Joseph Ridgwell, Jenni Fagan and Vic Templar, and reassuring they all appeared to have wandered straight from the pages of their books.

Billy was in charismatically jovial mood, wondering between poems what 19 year old Paul Weller would think of a 52 year old Paul Weller, what 19 year old Billy Childish would think of Billy Childish now, whether Charles Bukowski was a softie for moaning about working at the post office, and tales of fake moustaches and being the only punk in shorts.

Micheal from L-13 had chosen the pieces from Selected Poems for Billy to read, which meant a few different ones to those Billy usually picks. I’d had a few beers but I think he read: your golden hair, a sad donky and a fat man smiling, where the tiger prowls stripped and unseen, monkys in space, only poets piss in sinks, a mad noise like birds, fat nature, the snow, the bitter cup, hear i stand, the billy childish.

Then came the burning. L-13 did a fantastic job in making Selected Poems look totally like an authentic Penguin classic (managed to rescue one) so was sad to see them wasted. Penguin should have been proud to be associated with Billy’s work. But then, where’s the fun in that?

IN HONOUR OF MIKE EVANS of THE ACTION

It’s no secret the Action are my favourite band, the one that mean more to me than any other. A giant framed photograph of them hangs over my bed and is my most treasured possession. So it’s with genuine regret to report bass player Michael Evans died last week, aged 64.

There was something magical about discovering the band through the Ultimate Action compilation in the early 80s. Paul Weller wrote the sleevenotes - which was the royal seal of approval for a new mod generation – beyond that, I and other instant devotees knew very little beyond the handful of photographs on the inner sleeve. They looked immaculate and sounded magnificent. American soul covers by British pop groups usually ends in disaster, but with producer George Martin they took the essence of the originals and rearranged them with a crisp freshness their contemporaries couldn’t manage. Just play “I’ll Keep On Holding On”, “In My Lonely Room” or the sublime “Since I Lost My Baby”. For the past twenty-five years I’ve not gone more than a few weeks without listening in awe to their records.

Their relative obscurity back then added to the mysterious air that surrounded them. Stories circulated that singer Reggie King had died falling down some stairs. He hadn’t. As the years went by, their story gradually unfolded. Each new photograph or the uncovering of a mention in a faded copy of Record Mirror would be akin to finding the golden ticket. In time, we’d even get to see a few minutes of film (although their Ready, Steady, Go appearance is seemingly lost forever) and hear some unreleased material. Even today there are few things I’ll get more excited about than a new snippet of Action related memorabilia.

By the 90s I’d started my fanzine and simply had to name it after an Action track. With Shadows and Reflections already taken, Something Has Hit Me was born. I started by interviewing guitarist Pete Watson who’d not seen any of the band since 1967. A few years later I interviewed Reggie for Shindig! and he’d not seen anyone either, and later I’d interview Mick Evans (unpublished). When called by a promoter looking to reform the band I wasn’t keen. I didn’t want their sacred status tarnished by embarrassing old-bloke performances. Those gigs started in 1998 and ended in 2004. I saw all the London shows and we partied together in Spain. They weren’t brilliant but there was something special about seeing all five original members back together, playing and enjoying themselves. It stopped me being too precious about these things and saw what was more important. Talking to them they realised how lucky they were to be doing it and renewing old friendships. It wasn’t for financial reward; it was for the love of it. That love went from band to audience and audience to band. Michael was the one that with little fuss held it together. In my eyes, they kept their reputation intact.

Evans’s playing and performing throughout his career was never showy or flash but he’d anchor bands with his fluid groove and leave space for others to take the limelight, especially when the Action morphed into psych-folk luminaries Mighty Baby and their incredible musicianship came to the fore. It was, Mike told me, the Mighty Baby period that he looked back on most fondly.

I only knew Mike on a vague personal level but he struck me as quiet soul and had an aura of soothing calmness around him. The joy those Action records bring are today tinged with sadness. My heartfelt condolences go to all his family and friends.

SINCE I LOST MY BABY by THE ACTION (1966)

This is for Mick Evans (on the right).