JULY 1976

 

 

On Saturday 3 July, one day before my father’s 45^th birthday and the Bicentennial, we flew to New York and stayed there for four weeks. This means that everything I wrote about the British hits of that period was written on Monday 2 August, while recovering from the side-effects of jet lag and still needing to pick up a backlog of ordered singles from Woolworths in Hamiltion. It was hot but you don’t need me to tell you that, nor to furnish you with a hopelessly and haplessly clichéd parade of touristy observations. We saw everything one would expect to see and the impact it made on me cannot be adequately expressed in writing, like dreams which are fascinating to the dreamer but resist and instantly wither at the thought of expressing them.

 

We visited many bookshops and record shops which had many marvellous things that one could never hope to find in Glasgow – not that that stopped me from spending the next five years trying. I remember Disc-O-Rama in Manhattan (W 8^th Street, if I correctly recall) and The Corner Bookstore on Madison and 93^rd in particular, but there were considerably more.

 

New York in the summer of 1976 was probably one of the most dangerous places on the planet but it didn’t deter us from going there and we never got any bother. Quite the reverse – my father bore a definite and indelible aura of “DON’T TRY IT” about him, and so nobody did. Central Park was lovely and we never needed to run or duck for cover. People would cross the street to avoid encountering us. This included the Lower East Side which to my inexperienced eyes was indistinguishable from the Gorbals (I also marvelled at how many of the city’s broad, gridded avenues resembled the main streets of Glasgow, Renfield and St Vincent in particular, albeit with much taller buildings, as though you’d just been turned into an ant trapped at the bottom of a beer glass).

 

The Lower East Side was where all the lofts were located, those huge, largely furniture-free spaces whose inhabitants could at the time still afford to do anything and be arty in them. Studio Rivbea, a grimy garage space in Lower Manhattan (on Bond Street, which was nothing like the one in Mayfair) owned and run by Sam Rivers and his wife, was but the most infamous example. I was far too young, and my parents far too uninclined, to visit CBGB’s or any of those other clubs where thirteen million people, many of whose parents had yet to graduate, let alone meet, in 1976, witnessed Patti Smith picking up Debbie Harry by the scruff of her neck and throwing her out while Tom Verlaine and Joey Ramone looked on. Nothing like that, especially as the Ramones were actually in Camden Town on 4 July playing a gig at Dingwall’s.

 

But we did get to see many fine free jazz performances in those lofts from a multiplicity of New York’s then-leading improvisers. Much of this was documented on the five-LP set Wildflowers: The New York Loft Jazz Sessions, although those performances had mostly been recorded two or three months earlier. Still, it was an overall pleasing and even thrilling experience. Roscoe Mitchell recognised my father and remembered him from when we’d checked in at Orly Airport in Paris in July 1969; we were on holiday to France, then Italy, while the Art Ensemble of Chicago were long-term French residents at that time and had just recorded their best and deepest record, People In Sorrow. Anthony Braxton, by now a well-funded Arista Records recording artiste, had long since not needed to play chess for money in Washington Square Park but my father challenged him to a game anyway. Braxton won – he really knew his stuff – but he and my father got on splendidly and even stayed in touch with each other by mail for a few years afterwards. My father thought it very refreshing that an alto saxophonist could cite Paul Desmond as a primary influence, not that any of that was or has remained evident in Braxton’s playing.

 

We flew back a week too late to catch Mike Osborne and Stan Tracey performing at the Bracknell Jazz Festival but it was recorded for the magnificent Tandem album and we did manage to catch up with the duo, and Stan’s Octet (which at that time had Peter King rather than Osborne on alto), later on in the year. You may therefore discern a certain level of bubbling impatience with the month’s pop hits on my part; I’d seen the outside world – or a bit of it, anyway – and this is all you have in response? Actually there was a lot more response going on musically, even if (or, more likely, because) it happened a fairly long way away from “the charts.”

 

Note on Text

 

I’m not going to erase or rewrite history. When he wasn’t being a silly old fool – which is how I tend to regard him, as opposed to Glitter levels of sordid creepiness – Mr King was a pretty astute fly in the system of the British music industry. He stirred shit, sometimes tacky and at other times almost apologetically arty. When Seymour Stein contacted him later in the year about the possibility of signing the Sex Pistols to Sire Records in the USA, King had to inform him that it was Malcolm McLaren, not he, who managed the band’s affairs (although it’s very likely that McLaren received some expert advice from King in terms of how to push the Pistols forward).

 

Anyway, when he wasn’t doing Euroslop covers for short-term bucks, King was in his time responsible for some fairly remarkable pop records, as artist and/or songwriter and/or producer. I loved his version of “It Only Takes A Minute,” thought its arrangement ingenious – and it was this arrangement, not the Tavares original (as immense and powerful as it is - of COURSE it's the "better" version), that directly inspired Take That to cover the song sixteen years later. Obviously I now hear traces of Al Stewart and anticipation of Neil Tennant in King’s vocal, and even wonder every now and again…if Nick Drake had lived to make a disco record? But of course I wasn’t remotely thinking about Nick Drake in 1976, and anybody else who claimed they were is lying. That wouldn’t happen until 1985 when a budget-priced Island compilation entitled Heaven In A Wild Flower came out and attracted the interest of sensitive students. But yes, “It Only Takes A Minute” in my view remains a great, great pop record. For modern ears, it mixes well into "Love Letters" by Metronomy, and Hot Chip could have done it. Dodgy people are capable of creating lasting art and unless you plan never to listen to any music ever again you’re going to have to come to terms with that.

 

 

3 July

 

BROTHERHOOD OF MAN: My Sweet Rosalie/Sugar Honey Love (Pye 7N 45602)

 

 

 

It is somewhat underwhelming to return home, having witnessed such an explosively vivid music scene elsewhere in the world, and discover that Britain has not changed a jot. This is a carbon copy of their previous one, except this time it’s about a dog rather than a three-year-old, and also lacks a discernible tune. Pye will regret wasting so much money on this sleeve.

 

 

 

HOT CHOCOLATE: Man To Man/Eyes Of A Growing Child (RAK 238)

 

 

 

Strange record, like “You Sexy Thing” at half-speed, most of which is taken up with a spoken conversation between a husband who’s being cheated on and his wife’s fancy man. Doesn’t really go anywhere and Errol Brown’s repeated plea to consider the children does not begin to cover how utterly grown-up and square this record sounds to children, of whom I am one.

 

 

 

DON WILLIAMS: I Recall A Gypsy Woman/She’s In Love With A Rodeo Man (ABC 4098)

 

 

 

Puffing harmonica-driven baritone-sung slow country trot that fits the slightly stifling patience that this weather seems to be imposing on people.

 

 

 

ONE HUNDRED TON AND A FEATHER: It Only Takes A Minute/Last June, This June (UK Records UK 135)

 

 

 

Jonathan King under yet another pseudonym with an oddly compelling violin/Moog bass shrinkage of the Tavares original. This is different enough to stand out and a real cut above the “Una Paloma Blanca” package holiday candyfloss.

 

 

 

QUEEN: You’re My Best Friend/’39 (EMI 2494)

 

 

 

This isn’t really a follow-up to “Bohemian Rhapsody” – we are apparently getting that later this year – but its lightness of tone and intent nicely balance out the melancholy rage of its predecessor. Everybody should have A Night At The Opera already but this will still do reasonably OK.

 

 

 

LIVERPOOL EXPRESS: You Are My Love/Never Be The Same Boy (Warner Bros K 16743)

 

 

 

Ten years ago they were the Merseys and having a hit with the original (and better) version of Bowie’s “Sorrow” but now they come back and have obviously listened to “I’m Not In Love.” Floats along nicely enough for days as hot and airless as these and it always remains just intangible, both sonically and emotionally. I’m quite taken by it but many will dismiss the record as Woolworths 10cc.

 

 

 

DOROTHY MOORE: Misty Blue/Here It Is (Contempo CS 2087)

 

 

 

A really old-fashioned sixties-style soul ballad, very nicely and sorrowfully sung. Will resonate with boys at school discos who didn’t manage to attract the girl they fancied and mope off home with their pals instead.

 

 

 

DR HOOK: A Little Bit More (Edited Version)/A Couple More Years (Edited Version) (Capitol CL 15871)

 

 

 

Their first hit of any kind since “Sylvia’s Mother” four years ago, and now minus the Medicine Show, with Shel Silverstein’s songwriting relegated to the B-side and without the slightest trace of humour, this is draggy, dreary MoR with a rather threatening lyric (it’s about having sex; just SAY it) which undiscerning housewives are likely to take to number two, just like the last one, or possibly even one place higher if this listless weather fails to relent.

 

 

 

 

 

10 July

 

WAR: Me And Baby Brother/In Your Eyes (Island WIP 6303)

 

 

The band’s most danceable record yet; irresistibly groovy and should wake up everybody induced into hypnosis by Dr Hook.

 

 

 

ELTON JOHN & KIKI DEE: Don’t Go Breaking My Heart/Snow Queen (The Rocket Record Company ROKN 512)

 

 

 

Looks like Dr Hook are going to have to settle for second place again because this is an absolute pop monster which is going to go to number one and remain there for ages. Finally off DJM Records, Elton sounds liberated, newly-relaxed and genuinely happy, taking the “Philadelphia Freedom” vibe and reapplying it to the bubblegum world expertly – James Newton Howard did the string arrangement, and Gus Dudgeon is back as producer. Most importantly we get to witness Kiki Dee FINALLY achieving a MAJOR hit. The chemistry between the two singers is obvious, natural and sound. Elton has managed just about everything except a number one single in his home country – “Rocket Man,” number two in ’72, came closest – but that situation is about to change. Makes me want to go out into Uddingston Main Street and celebrate life.

 

 

 

 

17 July

 

THE BEATLES: Back In The U.S.S.R./Twist And Shout (Parlophone/Apple “The Singles Collection 1962-1970” R 6016)

 

 

 

Disingenuously labelled because this was never a single during the Beatles’ lifespan. This instead seems to be publicising a “new” compilation of their work entitled Rock ‘n’ Roll Music. I can’t imagine who’d be excited by this in 1976 apart from some disappointed middle-aged people. “Twist & Shout” sounds as though it’s coming from another century.

 

 

 

BILLY OCEAN: L.O.D. (Love On Delivery)/Mr Business Man (GTO GT 62)

 

 

 

In the same mood as “Love Really Hurts Without You,” but the hook isn’t anywhere near as catchy. Top twenty on the follow-up rebound but not top ten.

 

 

 

ISLEY BROTHERS: Harvest For The World/Let Me Down Easy (Epic EPC 4369)

 

 

 

Their first hit in over two years – mainly because Radio 1 wouldn’t dare touch last year’s “Fight The Power” – and a wonderful, bounding soul-pop protest song which imagines how things could be rather than knocking everything down to get there.

 

 

 

TAVARES: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel (Pt. 1)/Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel (Pt. 2) (Capitol Soul CL 15876)

 

 

 

After One Hundred Ton And A Feather, it was inevitable that Tavares were going to get a hit of their own and this energetic hustler will do plenty of business.

 

 

 

 

24 July

 

WALTER MURPHY & THE BIG APPLE BAND: A Fifth Of Beethoven/California Strut (Private Stock PVT 59)

 

 

 

We heard this coming out of cabs in New York – Ludwig goes disco! Ridiculously catchy but probably not that big a hit because Ruby Flipper will make a mess out of it on Top Of The Pops.

 

 

 

BILLY CONNOLLY: No Chance (No Charge)/It’s No Gotta Name (Polydor 2058 748)

 

 

 

The inevitable Glaswegian send-up of J. J. Barrie, and a very funny one too.

 

 

 

STATUS QUO: Mystery Song/Drifting Away (Vertigo 6059 146)

 

 

 

The Quo in their speed-boogie mood, and appropriately enigmatic and undecided.

 

 

 

DAVID DUNDAS: Jeans On/Sleepy Serena (Air CHS 2094)

 

 

 

The Brutus commercial, extended into something of a loop in which the song could go on forever. Slightly Gilbert O’Sullivan in tone but you can always tell the singer’s trying to sell something to you. Otherwise, harmless, bouncy summer pop fluff – and there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

 

 

JIMMY JAMES AND THE VAGABONDS: Now Is The Time/Want You So Much (Pye 7N 45606)

 

 

 

Hilariously dismal “protest” record – in inverted commas because it doesn’t actually want you to do any protesting – with lyrics that could have come out of the nineteenth century (“Now is the time to SET THINGS RIGHT”). Also, “revolution is no solution” – tell that to America, two hundred years to the month on – and rhyming “future” with “nuclear” are hardly going to inspire anybody. Perhaps the most depressing factor about this record is how big a hit it’s going to be.

 

 

 

THE BEACH BOYS: Good Vibrations/Wouldn’t It Be Nice (Capitol CL 15875)

 

 

 

Reissued to promote the TV-advertised 20 Golden Greats compilation which seems to be doing very well at the moment. But how does it stand up as a single in itself? I’ve known this record for most of my life – I usually take it for granted and haven’t really given the song a second thought; at least, not until now. Then I listened to it again, and I hadn’t quite realised just how unconventional it was, in structure, arrangement and production. The song doesn’t go where you might expect it to go, and doesn’t readily fit in with what anyone might call “pop” – in a lot of ways, “Good Vibrations” politely demands that pop fit in with it. So many changes of mood, such ambition, those unexpected sounds and tones. It’s as though the song’s suggesting to us: look what pop music COULD be, and we’re to blame for not wanting or being able to keep up with it or take its implications forward. It is still amazing – and you can’t really say that about the Beatles in 1976.

 

 

 

 

 

31 July

 

JOHNNY WAKELIN: In Zaire/You Got The Bug (Pye 7N 45595)

 

 

 

Much sharper than “Black Superman” but about the same person (Muhammad Ali), with a hard Burundi beat and a saxophone bordering on free jazz; the catchiest thing of its kind since John Kongos and, I reckon, as big a hit.

 

 

 

KC AND THE SUNSHINE BAND: (Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty/I’m A Pushover (Jay Boy BOY 110)

 

 

 

Howie Casey may have his formula but knows how to exploit it. As daftly danceable and terrific as all of his previous ones, even if the Miami Sound seems to have dried up a tad.

 

 

 

5000 VOLTS: Doctor Kiss – Kiss/Thunderfire (Philips 6006 533)

 

 

 

This time with the actual Luan Peters on (co-)lead vocals, and a fairly creepy lyrical premise. Its midtempo stride is enough to give them a second big hit but that doesn’t make the record any good. Ms Peters sounds like a frustrated rock singer who isn’t being permitted to rock.