“I’m anti-contemplative, anti-nuance, anti-getting away from the tyranny of the rectangle, anti-movement and light, anti-mystery, anti-paint quality, anti-Zen and anti-all of those brilliant ideas of preceding movements that everyone understands so thoroughly.” Roy Lichtenstein – pop artist (1923 – 1997)
Lichtenstein at the Tate Modern Until 27 May 2013 - £14, concessions available
If you visited the original Tate Gallery at the fag end of the 60s, when Bankside Power Station was still smoking, you could have stood and marvelled at the vibrant, colourful and contemporary art of the Popfather himself, 44 year old American jazz-fanatic, Roy Lichtenstein.
An exhibition of the American artist’s work (to date) was showing at the gallery, now Tate Britain, and art students, hippies and hep cats from across the capital and the provinces were gaping in awe at the scale of the man’s ambition. To take a frame in a comic book and blow it up to gigantic proportions, what arrogance, confidence and self-belief. Could this really be the future of art?
Today, 45 years on and 15 years after his death, the striking work is part of the history of art and includes some classic mod iconography. This latest Lichtenstein retrospective at Tate Modern on the South Bank is this spring’s must see London event for anyone with an ounce of style visiting: and Londoners themselves must make the effort to go.
Most of you will know Lichtenstein, even if you don’t. Weller’s guitar graphics featuring the artist’s ‘Whaam’ painting, a frenetic dogfight between two cold war fighter jets, is iconic. I spent most of 4th year art trying to reproduce it, but his comic book canvasses are just part of the story of a genuinely ‘great’ artist who helped to define pop art as well as creating part of the backdrop to the 1960s.
There can be no argument that Lichtenstein was mod; modern, as an adjective. He was a mod-artist in the way that Quant, Sassoon, Stamp et al were mod designer, hairstylist, actor, respectively. He was part of the creative big bang that took the consumerism, conflict, poverty and narcissism of the era and reflected it back onto itself as thought provoking art, film, fashion, etc. More importantly, the famously smartly dressed American, a regular at the Harlem Apollo, painted f**king great big sexy pictures that scream ‘COOL’ at you from half a mile away.
The great quote from him at the top of this article is for me the embodiment of 60s mod philosophy, mirroring the Creation’s assertion that their music is, ‘Red with purple flashes’. His art defines the clean, uncluttered philosophy prevailing in architecture, fashion and music during the fantastic decade from 1957 to 1967; the mod years.
Lichtenstein died in 1997, but his work is a snap shot of the counter-culture, captured forever ‘cool’ applied to canvass, and just as relevant as it was in 1968 when it first showed at The Tate.
Since the local youth club in the early-eighties Martin’s been Djing with records of one sort or another. Spots at the CCI National Mod Rallies across Britain in the 80s were followed in 1990 by the first in a line of successful northern soul and mod clubs in Glasgow. With four others he started Goodfoot in 91, with Acid Jazz-influenced playlists of Blow Up in London, and Brighton Beach in Leeds. Goodfoot arguably paved the way for a new generation of mod-influenced clubs in Glasgow over the past 20 years. Living in London in the late 90s Martin DJ’d at neuvo-modernist clubs including Where’s Jude and Lordy Lord, as well as regularly spinning at Duffer of St. George parties and other happenings. A career highlight was supporting legendary organist, Jimmy Smith, as well as pulling off 10 consecutive club nights during the 1995 Glasgow Jazz Festival. By 2001, back in Glasgow, Caledoniasoul launched. A definitive milestone in the Scottish soul scene, the club ran for six years and brought Butch, Mick Smith, Mick H, Arthur Fenn, Mike Ritson, Dave Rimmer and Ady Croasdell to Scotland for the first time to experience the sweaty, full-on atmosphere for themselves. As a journalist Martin has always written about music. In 2004 he tracked down singer and organist, Bill Bush, whose soulful, jazzy rarity, I’m Waiting on Ronn, was hitting on the northern soul scene. After visiting Bill in the USA and interviewing him for Manifesto he brought the band over to perform in the UK, complete with Hammond B3, and has helped Bill profit for the first time from the 1968 b-side. Martin is married to Caroline, has two children, lives in the London suburbs. Still collecting after 30 years!
‘Betty Beat Continues. Betty Beat is an extra terrestrial 18 year old girl who comes from Planet Kromos. The action is set in the 1967-1968 period, with loads of ‘Swingin’’ London imagery.
There will be many funny characters coming along as Betty lives her adventures on planet Earth!’ I hope you enjoy getting to know Betty Beat.
Max Galli was born in Rome in 1969, the son of a photographer and a housewife. Illustrator, graphic designer and writer, he embraced the culture and the aesthetics of the Sixties more than two decades ago. Max published three novels, an anthology of short stories and four comic books, and contributed to several magazines ( "Storie", "Vintage", "Blue", "Misty Lane" and “EyePlug”). During the years he realized loads of illustrations, pin ups, record and cd covers and posters for Italian and European clubs and bands. He lived in London from 1998 to 2003, joining in the London Mod scene, from which he took inspiration for his work. His comic books “The Beatnix” and “The Adventures of Molly Jones” reached international success, especially in United Kingdom and USA.
This entry is part 4 of 4 in the series Sexy Sixties
Sexy Sixties - Part 4, Chapter 1C - The ‘Dolce Vita’ Effect
Yes, that film. That actor cat. What’s his name? Marcello Mastroianni. Hmm. A bit ruthless, in the film. A bad-guy character, indeed. But – God – he’s smart as hell. Went to the movies three months ago and woke up the morning after with a strange feeling. A feeling that I had to dress, walk, behave and act like Mr. Mastroianni. Sure enough, he’s got that somewhat I was always looking for.
1960. “La Dolce Vita”, the new film of Federico Fellini, divides critics and public from day one, but is about to become both a classic and one of the most influential films ever. The film is formed by various episodes, all connected with the late 50s high-life in Rome.
Marcello Rubini is a journalist, writing gossip features but dreaming his immediate future as a proper writer. Life in the mid-late 50s Rome is made of chances and he’s always there to get them. He’s got to aim high, so he embarks in all those adventures that can shorten the distance between himself and his career. Hiring his photographer friend Paparazzo, to take pics of this blooming jet set, no place in and around Rome is too far for his ambitions.
Despite the producer De Laurentiis’ scepticism – he and Fellini argued about the choice of the main actor – La Dolce Vita earned a lot of money in the first two weeks of screening in Italian cinemas, and the sharp characters Marcello and Paparazzo (the latter eventually becoming a common name for any kind of gossip ruthless photographer) set the ethos and the aesthetics of a brand new young and modern man-about-town.
So, here we go. Marcello. Trying one of them well-tailored Italian suits. I have three of ‘em. Got the first one from a Soho spot, that man in his forties, how’s he called? Mario, I think. I popped there one day and told him “I’d like to look like Mastroianni. Can you make a good suit for me? I mean, the works”. And he went, with his very typical Southern Italy accent: “eh, I do wottya like, young man, but you gotta wait a week, so fulla bizinéss to do, diz days…”
And then, the following week I went there again for fittings. He took him sort of one month, which is not that quick, but – oh boy! What a result. I know my name ain’t Marcello, nor I am a fashionable Italian actor, but this is exactly the way I want to look like.
Can you imagine? Very few films have been so influential to early 60s Mod culture as La Dolce Vita. The very expression “Dolce Vita” became synonymous with “high life” and “jet set” , and eventually went to represent a new style for wool jumpers in Italy – dolcevita = turtleneck.
Max Galli was born in Rome in 1969, the son of a photographer and a housewife. Illustrator, graphic designer and writer, he embraced the culture and the aesthetics of the Sixties more than two decades ago. Max published three novels, an anthology of short stories and four comic books, and contributed to several magazines ( "Storie", "Vintage", "Blue", "Misty Lane" and “EyePlug”). During the years he realized loads of illustrations, pin ups, record and cd covers and posters for Italian and European clubs and bands. He lived in London from 1998 to 2003, joining in the London Mod scene, from which he took inspiration for his work. His comic books “The Beatnix” and “The Adventures of Molly Jones” reached international success, especially in United Kingdom and USA.
This year, the New Untouchables team had decided to move the date of the Timebox weekender to the first bank holiday in May. This meant that the Buckingham Palace Rideout was now on the 5th as opposed to later in the month. This, in hindsight, was nothing but a good thing as any other date over the two bank holidays would have meant massive road closures throughout the route. Can you imagine 200 scooters attempting to cross Central London during the Jubilee weekend? Or during a London wide marathon? In a torrential downpour???
After 6 years of running the Bar Italia Scooter Club, it’s fair to say i’ve cut my teeth on organising these sort of things. Armed with a spring in my step after the amazingly successful Kickstart Ride in March and my little black book of contacts, it was easy peasy to notify ‘Babylon’ of our intentions this time around.
I was also fully prepared with my cagoule and waterproof shoes on the day. This was pretty handy as, en route from our cheeky coffee at the ‘clubhouse’ (Bar Italia to the un-initiated) to Carnaby Street, the Big Man upstairs decided he would let us have a sprinkling just to remind us of who’s boss.
So, after a rather soggy arrival it was time for the meet and greet with the usual faces (and some new ones) and the polite reminder enforced that it’s a 2pm SHARP departure. Of course 2pm arrives…and as usual, im gassbagging about the latest accessories/clobber/tunes. Oops! After a prompt from the missus, it’s on the other faithful to lead the charge of 200 odd scooters and we’re off on another jolly boys (and girls) outing through Central London. Along to Piccadilly for some tourist snaps, then down to Trafalgar square where we successfully navigated some rather large lorries unloading Olympic regalia, and on through to the Mall. Here it’s the pause and regroup for the obligatory photo opportunity (I am still waiting to see the one of me saluting the Palace), then off to Westminster Square and over to Embankment to cruise along the Thames river with stunning vistas of South London. A quick zig into Clerkenwell, and zag over Old Street into Curtain Road for the finish line at the Strongroom Bar to partake in some authentic tunes, BBQ munchies from the kitchen (always impressed with the food) and sample some brews from the ever expanding beer menu. Rather easy all told! I will, however, admit that somewhere near Clerkenwell, the LI decided it was too hot to handle and decided to pack in on me. Running rich was the diagnosis. Thanks to the gang who helped me at the side of the road as I grumbled incessantly at my ‘infernal contraption’.
Scooter competition time quickly arrvived and it seemed that, as some clubs had decided to leave after a short tenure on site, it was a tad difficult to judge in good time and then collar the potential winner to convince them to hang around to claim their prize! A thanks here goes to Andrea from the Smart Drivers Scooter Club for assisting with the chin stroking and decision making. Between us and fellow Bar Italia SC members, we finally narrowed it down to:
Best Vespa- GS160- V00 600
Best Lambretta- LI150 S1- 738 HUA
Best Mod Scooter- Lambretta TV175 s2- Reg number lost! Sorry! Great two tone blue with hints of lilac
Massive thanks to co-organisers Rob Bailey and the New Untouchables, all clubs and individuals who attended and of course the marshals we had who managed to keep the ride together.
Nicky Bubbles was bitten by the bug as a young lad in Australia. With the sounds of Otis, Diana and Marvin in the background of his youth, it was a deep seeded passion for Tamla that helped propel him towards the Mod scene in his mid twenties. The love of scooters was also apparent from a relative obsessed with Vespas. This led to Nicky joining and subsequently taking over the reigns at Central London’s only dedicated geared scooter club as ‘El Presidente’- Bar Italia SC.
Based in Soho, the spiritual home of the Mod/ern/ist, the club meet on sundays at the iconic all night coffee bar, drink some of London’s best ground blend, and plan/ride through Central London throughout the year, as well as collaborate with fellow clubs in the South East region. The club, now approaching it’s tenth year anniversary as an official club, has a heavy influence by the scene and represents the more sussed part of the scootering fraternity. All other clubs are welcome, as well as any solo riders, Mod or otherwise.
This entry is part 3 of 4 in the series Sexy Sixties
Sexy Sixties – Chapter 1 Part B
Those hedonistic Modernists (1959-1961)
The suit is a blue pinstripe model, made by that Italian tailor cat somewhere just behind Charing Cross Road. It looks good. Well, it looks damn right. It has three front pockets, plus one for the hanky, two eight inch side vents and it’s cut like a piece of art. It’s just perfect. Jean Paul Belmondo and Marcello Mastroianni couldn’t have desired anything better than that.
The owner of that suit – and many others – is a seventeen years old boy from Stepney Green. He works, of course, and his job is all about metal sheets to be folded and shaped. Not that it can be called “the best job in the world”, but it’s enough money to make him afford some very good clothes and fuel for his Lambretta Li 150. And some pills, too. “’Cause life’s gotta be brilliant. You have to be brilliant, mate”, he usually answers when someone asks him questions.
Meanwhile, he also invests his wages into the latest jazz imports from the US, exploring all those many microscopic Soho music shops. He spends a lot of his spare time looking at his image in the mirror, and – hey!, he likes a lot what he sees. He meets somewhere in the West End with a few other cats very much into the same music and lifestyle, but he doesn’t consider himself as part of a group. In fact, he’s an individual. He’s a Modernist.
Music and cinema started it all, in the 50s or maybe earlier. American GIs living in UK wanted jazz musicians to play for them. A bunch of sixteen years old boys, bored to death with the too understated, post war-ish national imagery, found themselves tasting a bit of that ‘modern jazz’ thing being imported. And they liked it. In the same time, French and Italian films added new ingredients to the cinema as a form of art, making British films look plain and unexciting, to say the least.
If we add to these two fundamental things a third, no less important one, the mass motorization, with the introduction of brilliantly designed Italian scooters, you should have a complete frame about our boy with the pinstripe suit, or about his attitude and lifestyle. “Being brilliant” as the opposite of “being plain”, “being dull”, “being a post-war number dressed in a boxy, badly cut jacket”. Or, in one word, “being square”.
All of a sudden these hedonistic teenagers didn’t want to be the average English boys anymore, they wanted to be American, French or Italian. And for the first time ever, they had enough money in their pockets to look smart, to buy imported records and to drive a very good looking scooter – a wheeled piece of the most desirable Italian design.
And the boy with the pinstripe suit irons the crease of his trousers to a sharp, razor-like finishing. A light-blue, tab collar shirt is waiting on a hanger, as the ice-white mac, ready to be worn.
“Just stick a good John Coltrane or Wayne Shorter on the record player, before I go. That will give me a kick”. It’s nine o’clock pm, and the night is there, just behind your flat’s door.
The night is yours and it’s full of new sensations.The gathering of a new kind of knights – the Modernists – will take place at the club, all night long.
You only need to read a book, to learn what’s the story. And this book can only be Colin McInnes’ “Absolute Beginners”. It’s all there.
Max Galli was born in Rome in 1969, the son of a photographer and a housewife. Illustrator, graphic designer and writer, he embraced the culture and the aesthetics of the Sixties more than two decades ago. Max published three novels, an anthology of short stories and four comic books, and contributed to several magazines ( "Storie", "Vintage", "Blue", "Misty Lane" and “EyePlug”). During the years he realized loads of illustrations, pin ups, record and cd covers and posters for Italian and European clubs and bands. He lived in London from 1998 to 2003, joining in the London Mod scene, from which he took inspiration for his work. His comic books “The Beatnix” and “The Adventures of Molly Jones” reached international success, especially in United Kingdom and USA.
‘Betty Beat Continues. Betty Beat is an extra terrestrial 18 year old girl who comes from Planet Kromos. The action is set in the 1967-1968 period, with loads of ‘Swingin’’ London imagery.
There will be many funny characters coming along as Betty lives her adventures on planet Earth!’ I hope you enjoy getting to know Betty Beat.
Max Galli was born in Rome in 1969, the son of a photographer and a housewife. Illustrator, graphic designer and writer, he embraced the culture and the aesthetics of the Sixties more than two decades ago. Max published three novels, an anthology of short stories and four comic books, and contributed to several magazines ( "Storie", "Vintage", "Blue", "Misty Lane" and “EyePlug”). During the years he realized loads of illustrations, pin ups, record and cd covers and posters for Italian and European clubs and bands. He lived in London from 1998 to 2003, joining in the London Mod scene, from which he took inspiration for his work. His comic books “The Beatnix” and “The Adventures of Molly Jones” reached international success, especially in United Kingdom and USA.
This entry is part 2 of 4 in the series Sexy Sixties
Sexy Sixties – Chapter 1 Part A
The Age of Charm and Restlessness (1959-1961) Girls of the ‘Nouvelle Vague’
The young man leaves the cinema with an expression of deep satisfaction printed on his face. The film he watched had very little to do with anything he had ever watched before. It was a French movie and it had that continental charm that wasn’t very common in British films. And that girl, the actress Jean Seberg… the girl with the very short hair. What a girl! And how cool she was!
He is aware that there’s gonna be something new in the very way he’ll perceive these new films. Because they ‘are’ new, aren’t they?
These French films talk about the present, about real problems, tormented and contemporary love stories. They’re not just ‘movies’. They are the changing.
Walking under the thick rain of a greyish London, the young man knows that things will never be the same again. He thinks he’s falling in love with Jean Seberg. Or maybe with some other actress he’d watched in some other French film? Was she Jeanne Moreau? Brigitte Bardot? Bernadette Lafont? Anna Karina? God! They all look so modern, so different… Their world is made of groundbreaking frames, striking whites and deep, very deep blacks.
They don’t just ‘play’ the part. They are the part, they mean, resume, represent, symbolise the part. They produce real emotions and create from nothing a brand new way of being sexy. Hands up who wouldn’t date Jean Seberg, the young man thinks, his post-War shoes completely soaked with water, sinking in a landscape made of brown puddles.
And who are these new directors? Truffaut, Malle, Godard, Chabrol… Their names sound rather exotic. Where are they from? Are they all French? And – above all – why are their films all so incredibly sharp?
The young man is going home. Probably he’d find his mum screaming at his dad: “where ‘ave ya been? You’ve ‘ad a couple, you did. Didn’t ya?” and probably his dad would answer “Well, leave me alone now, I’m dead tired!”.
Yeah, probably.
But one thing is for sure: he’s not going to have something like that planned for his life. He doesn’t want that. He wants Jean Seberg.
The young man is continuing to walk, his home now behind his shoulders. He can’t see what his mum and dad are saying. Are they arguing or something? His girlfriend’s house is a few yards away, a two-storey Victorian semi-detached. He thinks he’s going there.
Knock knock.
His girlfriend opens the door. She’s nothing special really. And she does look a bit too old fashioned, with those curly things coming down off her head. “Too bloody Shirley Templish!”, the young man thinks.
“Hi”, he says.
“Hi” she says.
“Know what?”, he says, “Get a new haircut, girl, time for a change!”.
Max Galli was born in Rome in 1969, the son of a photographer and a housewife. Illustrator, graphic designer and writer, he embraced the culture and the aesthetics of the Sixties more than two decades ago. Max published three novels, an anthology of short stories and four comic books, and contributed to several magazines ( "Storie", "Vintage", "Blue", "Misty Lane" and “EyePlug”). During the years he realized loads of illustrations, pin ups, record and cd covers and posters for Italian and European clubs and bands. He lived in London from 1998 to 2003, joining in the London Mod scene, from which he took inspiration for his work. His comic books “The Beatnix” and “The Adventures of Molly Jones” reached international success, especially in United Kingdom and USA.
It falls on my shoulders as ‘El Presidente’ of the Bar Italia Scooter Club to write about the 2012 Kickstart Rideout. To tell the truth it’s that this year I can’t help but feel a little smug about.
This ride marks the ‘start’ of the scootering season and is usually slightly earlier in the year. However, due to the previous two years’ miserable weather, I decided to push it back to the end of March. Also, the decision was made to move it from a Sunday to a Saturday thanks to various charity sporting events taking place in the capital (this means even more roadworks and diversions) as well as the Ace Cafe running their Scooter Day on Sunday. Controversial as a few people pointed out, but nonetheless, it had the desired effect.
As this is the tenth year that the Bar Italia Scooter Club has ‘officially’ been running (although Mods and like-minded types have used it as a hang out since the 50’s), I thought it might be an opportunity to celebrate this and up the ante a little. After the last couple of years riding to Epping Forest, perhaps a change of venue might help? The issue with organising a rideout, in case you hadn’t guessed already, is logistics. Where can you have hundreds of scooters and riders park and catch up with mates comfortably after a safe run and acceptable length of time on the road? Particularly when you start from a Central London location? Thanks to a fantastic stroke of luck, I happen to know someone at the Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich. As they showed an interest, after some gentle ‘persuasion’ final terms were agreed to use this iconic London heritage site as the final destination. The first time classic scooters have ever used the space. You’re very welcome.
So, with a route and final destination in place, various councils and Police notified, trophies sorted and permission granted from the London Eye security, I thought perhaps a chance to spread the word further afield than the usual social networking sites and Scooter based publications might help. Queue articles appearing in the London/National press (in the Timeout ‘Top 5 Weekend events’) and a very unexpected radio interview with Robert Elms on BBC Radio London. Apparently it was even mentioned on the radio in Venice, Italy!
The end result? 400+ scooters met at the London Eye on a very warm and sunny 24th of March at 11am. Police kindly closed the roads for us to leave at high noon and off we went. Marshals at the front in their yellow vests (thanks to all of those in Bar Italia SC and Mark from the Wasps SC), me of course refusing such a fashion faux pas and opting instead for a canary yellow sailing smock. Off we went in a haze of two stroke, and in no time, despite some heavy traffic, were entering the larger than life gates of the Old Royal Naval College to be greeted with an eager and excited crowd all taking photos and cheering as we parked in the designated area. Thanks here to staff at the venue who were somewhat in awe of double the anticipated turnout, but still managed to find parking for everyone. After parking the trusty ol’ Lambretta, it was time to start judging the scooter competition. Needless to say, with a seemingly endless stream of scooters arriving, this was a long and drawn out task for myself and fellow judges. In the end, however, we found our bikes and announced the winners. A thanks here to Tim at the Raihna Santa Roast Hog company who not only provided some of the nicest pig in a bun I’ve ever had, but also sponsored the trophies. Winners this year were twice as lucky as we had photographer and all round top fella Darren Russell on hand as the official snapper for the day, who was providing each winner with a print of their winning pose.
So, a major coup for a location, great weather and quite an easy ride. I have to chalk that up as a success in my book. No time to rest on my laurels though! The next rideout to organise- Buckingham Palace Ride on the 5th of May. See you at Carnaby Street (Marlborough Street end) for 1.30pm. We’re leaving at 2pm sharp! You have been warned!
Nicky Bubbles was bitten by the bug as a young lad in Australia. With the sounds of Otis, Diana and Marvin in the background of his youth, it was a deep seeded passion for Tamla that helped propel him towards the Mod scene in his mid twenties. The love of scooters was also apparent from a relative obsessed with Vespas. This led to Nicky joining and subsequently taking over the reigns at Central London’s only dedicated geared scooter club as ‘El Presidente’- Bar Italia SC.
Based in Soho, the spiritual home of the Mod/ern/ist, the club meet on sundays at the iconic all night coffee bar, drink some of London’s best ground blend, and plan/ride through Central London throughout the year, as well as collaborate with fellow clubs in the South East region. The club, now approaching it’s tenth year anniversary as an official club, has a heavy influence by the scene and represents the more sussed part of the scootering fraternity. All other clubs are welcome, as well as any solo riders, Mod or otherwise.
If ever an excuse was needed to chat about the life and music of mod’s favourite sons, the Action, the forthcoming biography of the band ‘In The Lap of The Mods’ by Ian Hebditch and Jane Shepherd surely provides it. A decade in the making, the book features contributions from all original band members: Reggie King, Mike Evans, Alan ‘Bam’ King, Pete Watson and Roger Powell; over 200 images including many previously unpublished photographs, flyers, posters and press cuttings; first-hand testimonials from fans and musical contemporaries; a complete guide to their gigs; and an examination of how the band’s mod following at clubs like the Birdcage in Portsmouth and the Marquee in London influenced their decision making as a band. In addition, this year also finally sees the release of an amazing new album on Circle Records of Reggie King’s post-Action demos, ‘Looking For A Dream,’ recorded with his ex-band mates during the late 60s. With these hugely exciting projects nearing completion it was a real honour and privilege to share a coffee and croissant with the Action’s drummer Roger Powell.
MR: - It was a wonderful surprise to recently see on the ‘In The Lap of The Mods’ website footage of The Action outside the Royal Albert Hall performing “I’ll Keep Holding On” for the Dick Clark Show. What do you remember about it?
RP: - Not a lot. It was a bit embarrassing to be honest. There were all these people throwing paper airplanes and generally just being shitty and we were miming and we used to hate miming. You couldn’t hear anything and had to pretend you were really getting in to it. We didn’t really like anything like that; we were pretty anti-social, anti-establishment.
MR: - Do you think that might have been why you didn’t go as far as you could’ve?
RP: - Oh yes. When we played with the Move they were saying you’ve got to do all these outrageous things, tie yourselves to railings and wear outrageous clothes, and we thought that was moving towards show business.
MR: - Did your manager Rikki Farr try to push you into a more commercial market and get a hit?
RP: - Yes, we knew we needed a manager as we needed publicity to get gigs. We’d built up a really good following on the circuit and could’ve carried on just doing that but Marquee Artists and Rikki obviously wanted to make money and get the right record for us because we were on £100 a night and once you had a hit record you’d be on £500 or more and go to gigs in cars, have roadies and stay in nice hotels. But none of the records I felt were anything near a hit record or anything edgy enough people would remember. We never felt comfortable going after a hit even though we went along with it putting records out but they weren’t really doing anything. I think “I’ll Keep Holding On” got to number 39 in the charts.
MR: - Was it disheartening to keep putting records out that didn’t hit?
RP: - It wasn’t disheartening because we were there for the music; we weren’t there for the hit record although all the people around us were getting them: the Kinks, the Small Faces, the Who, Spencer Davis Group, Manfred Mann. It seemed everyone we played with at the Marquee had a hit record except for us.
MR: - Why do you think that was?
RP: - I think because they were doing original stuff and we were doing covers. And we never got an original cover. Something like “Ride Your Pony” would come out in America and someone else would do it in England. At the time we didn’t consider writing our own songs as there was so many cool records to explore we just enjoyed playing them. If we’d had an original cover first we might have had a hit record.
MR: - “Shadows and Reflections” was a very original cover.
RP: - Yes but it didn’t get played, it didn’t get marketed, no machine behind it. It was who you know not what you know. You needed just the right contacts, like the Who had with Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp. They had the key contacts, the money, and were right in with all of the faces of the time, although I think they would’ve hit anyway regardless.
MR: - Having George Martin as your producer must’ve helped.
RP: - Being with George at Abbey Road helped but although “I’ll Keep Holding On” was alright and “Never Ever” was okay, you couldn’t do it without the machine behind you. You really needed the publicity, to know people at the BBC to actually plug it. And a lot of people bought their records in to the charts. They’d get a little sniff into the charts, once it was there, the DJs would play it, you’d get on the telly and you’d be away. So from an initial investment of say ten grand you could make it back.
MR: - Mike Evans said when “I’ll Keep Holding On” got to number 39 that was when you needed to start buying up all the records.
RP: - At that point there was a bit of a woo-hah about it. Early on you had a list of all the special shops they took the chart returns from so you could send boys and girls in to buy a copy of this, two copies of that. There were as many as twenty or thirty record shops in London where they took the charts from, so if you knew the right shops…
MR: - You still managed to get on Ready Steady Go a few times.
RP: - I think we did it three times. We did it with Pete Stringfellow who was brought down from the Mojo Club in Sheffield to compere it and we played a couple of songs live on there. It was the first time anyone played live on Ready Steady Go and it gave us that appeal for the mods on the circuit and we got a really good following from it.
MR: - The book is titled In The Lap of The Mods, is that how it felt?
RP: - Someone said it to me that we were in the lap of the mods and I thought it was great, so we used it as the title. That’s how it felt. They’d meet us on their scooters and we’d meet them in the pub before the gigs. We were like mates; there was no differentiation between us and the audience. We were all regular guys; we didn’t put on any airs and graces. It was all, “You got any leapers? Yeah, great”.
MR: - We refer to the Action nowadays as a Mod band but did you consider yourselves Mods? Did you think in those terms?
RP: - No, I don’t think anybody did. I don’t think people had this idea early on of being this thing called mod. It was just smart blokes. We used to like mohair suits and very smart Italian clothes. We never really had a concept of what it was. I would say we were a sort of soul band.
MR: - The Small Faces had accounts the length of Carnaby Street for their clothes, where did yours come from? Did you buy them yourselves?
RP: - Yeah, John Stephens, Carnaby Street, all those. We bought them ourselves. There’s a picture of us in the book outside Harry Fenton’s, once we’d put the clothes on and had our photograph taken we had to put the clothes back. “The Action supplied by Harry Fenton” but they never gave us anything. It was the same with drums. If I wanted to play Premier drums I had to buy them, you needed a hit record before they’d give you anything. Keith Moon got a contract with Premier.
MR: - Were you mates with Keith Moon and The Who?
RP: - Sort of because we did a lot of gigs with them and used to support them for quite a while so we were sort of friendly but they were always a bunch of piss takers so I didn’t really want to spend too much time around them. I remember at the press release at the Marquee for “Never Ever” Moonie was throwing peanuts at us.
MR: - Your drum kit had a two bass drum set-up which others also used, where did that idea come from?
RP: - A lot of people may tell you otherwise but I was definitely the first person to get two bass drums at the Marquee. Definitely. Then Moonie got two, Ginger Baker got two, Mitch Mitchell got two, and then most of the other drummers got two. So then I took mine away and just had the one. Buddy Rich had two bass drums and I thought it looked really smart, but it was nice with the tambourine as it gave that off-beat. We didn’t have someone playing the tambourine so when I was playing I didn’t use the hi-hat, just used the bass drum for the off-beat with the tambourine, which was important for The Action’s sound. You could do some amazing things with the two.
MR: - It gave you that good Motown sound. Where were you hearing those kinds of records?
RP: - We got them through Mike’s mum who worked for EMI so she used to get us all these obscure records. We weren’t really into the mainstream Tamla, we were into Stax and really obscure stuff. There was also the DJ at the Twisted Wheel in Manchester. We used to go back to his house after the club to hear them and Guy Stephens used to give us stuff. That’s where we got a lot of the info. Then we’d learn them and try to put our own little spin on them.
MR: - When you did the all-nighters how many sets were you playing throughout the night?
RP: - Sometimes we’d do three sets. Three quarters of an hour each and usually you’d be the only band. They’d be records, we’d do a set, more records, then yet another set.
MR: - There must be a lot of songs you played live but didn’t record.
RP: - In the book there is a playlist of every song we ever played. We didn’t repeat songs in a night. We might occasionally do one twice if it was really popular. We wouldn’t repeat “Land of a 1000 Dances” or anything but “Needle in a Haystack” we might do twice or “Heatwave” as people loved that. We had a good lot of songs and we used to rehearse all the time.
MR: - The collector’s edition ‘In The Lap of the Mods’ includes your audition disc of The Temptations’ “Girl (Why Do You Want To Make Me Blue)” you made for Decca. What do you remember about that and Decca turning you down?
RP: - Nothing! I remember going in to this big executive office at their studios. We played three songs but only one was actually taped which was that one. Jane bought it on eBay. Mike knew it was genuine but was saying it wasn’t, so as to put off the other bidders!
MR: - Did you stay for the all-nighters after you’d played them?
RP: - Yes it wasn’t worth going back. They’d finish at six in the morning and we’d stay up and drive back with a little help so we weren’t falling asleep at the wheel.
MR: - Were you taking many drugs?
RP: - We were all on leapers most of the time because we were doing all-nighters and otherwise you just couldn’t keep going. We got busted at the Birdcage for amphetamines. We were all in the dressing room when suddenly all these policemen came in. Everyone was dropping stuff. I think they found some amphetamines in Mike’s pocket and took him away to the police station so we had to go and try getting him bailed out so we could finish the gig.
MR: - How did LSD enter the scene?
RP: - In the early days we were one of the first people to take acid because it had just come over from America and we knew people in Pond Street who had gallons of LSD. These people came over just to turn on London. And when we were staying with Nick Jones in Bognor this guy came down to turn us on and that was our first acid trip. I couldn’t believe it.
MR: - Was the trip arranged beforehand?
RP: - Yes, it was a party and it was about twelve o’clock and this guy was about to arrive. We didn’t want to trip with all these people around so we thought we’d better try and get rid of them so we put on a crazy Albert Ayler LP and everyone said “I gotta go now”. He gave us this stuff, I think it was me and Mike, maybe Bam, but not all the band wanted to take it. I remember sitting there about half an hour later and looked at Mike and he looked at me and we just started laughing and laughing and laughing. It made life so funny and so stupid. We tripped all night and went out to the beach. To be honest it did destroy people, I know a lot of people who didn’t make it. You needed a strong inner core and need to be comfortable with yourself. We tripped actually on Ready Steady Go, me and Mike and then got spiked afterwards. We’d gone back to this guy’s house and were coming down from the trip and he gave us some toast and we started freaking out again wondering what was happening. He’d put more LSD on it. It was only when he told us that we thought thank goodness for that.
MR: - There seemed such a huge shift from the mod days once 1967 arrived.
RP: - By ’67 all the underground stuff started happening in London with the UFO Club in Tottenham Court Road. A lot of the psychedelic bands were self-indulgent nothing. I didn’t like Pink Floyd or any of those bands, I couldn’t get into it. The all-nighters at the Roundhouse people were all over the place. The drugs had changed. With the old amphetamines everyone liked a chat, wanted to be your mate, it was brilliant. When people were taking acid it was totally different. It’s an important thing drugs and culture, they’re a totally interlinked thing. I mean, but even if the mods weren’t taking uppers they were very chatty, friendly people. At the Roundhouse people were isolated in their own heads, doing their own thing. It was like chalk and cheese. Mod gigs and the Roundhouse, unbelievable difference. I didn’t like the Roundhouse, it was too self-indulgent.
MR: - So what was it like when you were then playing one song for 45 minutes?
RP: - I wouldn’t call it psychedelic by any means. It was more jazzy, rock-jazz, but I liked the three minute things. In the space of half an hour you could get loads of brilliant records rather than one long thing. We lost touch with the club scene after a while, at the end of the Action, and got a bit disenchanted with it. The early days of the Action were the most exciting, when we were playing the Birdcage and stuff like that. That was an incredible time in the clubs.
MR: - When The Action got back together in 1998 it was great it was all original members, which is very unusual. How did that feel?
RP: - It had to be. We wouldn’t have done it otherwise. It was exciting and it felt like there was unfinished business, that somehow we hadn’t really closed the circle. We knew it wasn’t going to be the same as we weren’t twenty anymore, so we knew it was going to be different but it was still worth doing as it was nice for people to see us again. It was awesome. I’m really pleased we did it as we got to meet people like Jane and Ian, Rob Bailey, yourself.
MR: - On some of the reunion shows you even included a sax player and some percussion; would you have liked to have had a Hammond player or a sax player back in the day?
RP: - I think so, it would have been great. That’s what I liked about Jimmy James and the Vagabonds; they had a nice big fat sound with an organist and a sax but the vocals were the main thing with the Action.
MR: - Did you help arrange the vocals harmonies?
RP: - Oh no, I wasn’t musical at all. Reg used to say, “Just shut up and bang the bloody drums!” People used to call him Reg, and he’d say “Mister King, to you.”
MR: - Reggie was quite a character.
RP: - Reg was always a bit of wild card. He just started going funny, a bit out of control, towards the end of the Action days. We were playing a gig at the Blue Lagoon and all of a sudden Reg started climbing up this palm tree. The bouncers came up, Reg jumped off the tree, we’re still playing and the bouncers are chasing him around the audience whilst he’s still singing. “You’ll never play here again!” Then he got arrested on the M1 at the Blue Boar services. We’d eaten and had come out and were sitting in the van, ready to go, and it was “Where’s Reg?” We looked around, couldn’t find him and twenty minutes later this policeman comes up and knocks on the window. “Do you know Reg King? He’s just been arrested for threatening someone with a plastic knife.” I don’t know what it was about, something about where he wanted to eat his egg and chips. Eventually we just decided, a sort of mutual thing, to move on. But he got his head together a bit and we worked with him on his album. The trouble was once we started doing stuff like John Coltrane’s “India” what was he going to do while we played that for half an hour? Stand there and go “Elephants… Elephants”?
MR: - Did you think Reg leaving would give the band more freedom or did you think that was going to be the end?
RP: - No, you just go through a transition you don’t think “Oh I’m changing now into something else.” It was very subtle. It’s only when you look back in retrospect you realise you’ve changed from A to B. So it didn’t affect us that much. After Reg, Rod Stewart was going to join the Action at one point. We knew him quite well and when Reg didn’t make a gig at the Twisted Wheel Rod sang a few songs with us. But it didn’t materialise as he then got into the Faces as they’d had some hits and were bigger than we were. We also tried to get the organist Keith Emerson. I went round to his flat to ask him if he’d be interested and he said he would’ve been but was just joining the Nice. We got Ian Whiteman and Martin Stone in and became more of a jazz-funk-jamming band.
MR: - How did that go down with your audience?
RP: - It depended where we played. Some people were bored with it; some people sort of liked it. We got to a point where we didn’t know where we were and the audience didn’t know quite what we were doing. It took us a bit of time to find our direction with Mighty Baby when we started writing our own stuff.
MR: - How long did you keep the Action name after Reg left?
RP: - About six months I think. It was sadly a bit of a mess really. We did want to somehow change. Pete Watson left, even when Reg was still with us people would come up to us at gigs and say “Oi, you’re not the Action!” which was fair enough really because we were doing new stuff we’d written and we were all wearing Granny Takes A Trip suits. It was a transition period. We started getting into West Coast, Captain Beefheart, Love. Things like “Dustbin Full of Rubbish” which Ian Whiteman wrote was still the Action, but it wasn’t the Action. We didn’t have a new name basically until we went with John Hurd at Head Records and we said we had to change the name and he came up with Mighty Baby, which I wasn’t that keen on as it felt a bit silly but in retrospect it was all right and we then did a couple of albums.
MR: - Do you look back at the periods of the Action and Mighty Baby differently or is it one continuous thing?
RP: - No, as different lives, definitely. The Action was very exciting. The whole scene, the music, the atmosphere in the clubs was brilliant. As soon as you walked in those clubs, the Marquee, the Birdcage, you could feel people were really into it. With Mighty Baby you had to create an atmosphere with the music, you really had to win them over, which was more difficult. With Mighty Baby we were searching, it was a time of introspection and because we’d all downed massive amounts of LSD what we thought was real wasn’t real. Once you’d taken acid, tables were like vibrating with energy and flowers were absolutely stunning, you know. You have to rethink totally who you are and what life’s about. We became like travelling philosophers. I was listening to one of the Mighty Baby tracks on the train coming down, “Tasting The Life”, which is all about seeking, searching, holy islands. Whenever we’d do gigs as Mighty Baby if there was a castle we’d go there, Stonehenge we’d stop there, so we were always seeking some meaning in life through our music. In Mighty Baby we were analysing life, who we were. In the Action we weren’t, we were just being the life.
I've spent three-quarters of my life wandering the mod path with detours down its side streets and dark alleys. From an enthusiastic youth to a still-enthusiastic-but-harder-to-tell grizzled old goat, I've dabbled in all parts of the scene from writing fanzines 'Round Midnight and Something Has Hit Me; to promoting bands; attempting to manage bands; singing in the mighty garage combo The Electric Fayre; putting on indie, psych and soul clubs including Freak Scene, Orange Sunshine, and Shake!; writing liner notes for Reg King releases on Circle Records; and, in fitter times, tucking away the odd goal for the New Untouchables. I still DJ from my box of R&B humdingers but more often you’ll find me tapping away on my blog at monkeypicks.co.uk. I like the poetry of Charles Bukowski and dislike the taste of cheese.
‘Scientists from the RAND Corporation have created this model to illustrate how a “home computer” could look in the year 2004. However, the needed technology will not be economically feasible for the average home. Also the scientists readily admit that the computer will require not yet invented technology to actually work, but 50 years from now scientific progress is expected to solve these problems. With teletype interface and the Fortran language, the computer will be easy to use.’ [Popular Mechanics Magazine, 1954]
The year 2004 has come and gone. Where’s my steering wheel?! At least we have nutritional meals down to pocket-size packets if not in pill form, and monorail development is on the rise again.Virgin is on the good foot, grav-boots and all, for commercial space travel some time soon. Sub-stratosphere,Paul Moller and his team keep working on getting their sexy sky cars into your garage. I keep checking my Travel Editor’s inbox for a review from someone who’s had a test drive but I won’t hold my breath.
On the subject of breath, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em because it doesn’t say anywhere in the latest couple rounds of research from our old friends at Randwhat plans, if any, we should all be making for the kind of Jetsons-style get-ups that could allow us a steady supply of oxygen during our daily lives. Would I be able to remove the fishbowl to comb my hair or would nanobots comb it for me? I’m glad I don’t have to worry about it for now.
In our more immediate future, the prospect of discrete wearable computersmay be improved by such recent breakthroughs as those of a lab in Palo Alto called Nanosolar. I used to think the short-lived proliferation of paper suits and skirts the ‘Sixties enjoyed must have been pretty neat. Now I’m imagining changeable neckties and shirt cuffs made of solar paper used to power my mohair entertainment center.
I went and met with the company’s president yesterday and he said the lightweight nature of their major power supply material will be applied to huge rooftops rather than little wristwatches and such. However, he assured me there are other companies working on the so-called ‘embedded’ market of laptop batteries and the like.
I still have my heart set on an invisible desktop-level system one would be free to move about in. We are already seeing signs of solutions to the principal interface design challenges of discrete wearable computing. One wants to see what one is doing while one controls one’s devices. An array of experimental developments move the optical part on top closer to something akin to a pair of Ray-bans, while developments at Apple may be paving the way to a better connection with the hands below. The popularity of the iPod has established our familiarity with a circular controller. I was wondering about the steering wheel and there it is! The latest, though it offers less control — shuffle only — has a controller the size of a jacket button. Do you see where I’m going with this idea? Give that little button the added dimension of command a rotating ring affords and you’ve got your James Bond suit.
Unfortunately, the same factor contributing to the likelihood of a need to wear fishbowls on our heads might interfere with important developments in bespoke CPU’s and that is the increasing scarcity of water. I might worry about electrocution if the circuits in my stitches have to share space with tiny tubes carrying recycled H2O. Fortunately, fashion is a fast-moving game and there may be no interference there at all, depending on how quickly or slowly the powers that be manage to destroy the delicate balance of Nature. Style is what’s important after all, and will probably win that race.
On the subject of water combined with style, the movie to see, if you haven’t already, is The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, if only for the soundtrack. If you have already seen it, see it again, if only for the astounding special effects wizardry provided by animation director Henry Selick. It’ll make you wish you could breathe underwater. Beyond the sea, but still on the silver screen, meanwhile, we have Kevin Spacey’s creative telling of the story of performer Bobby Darrin. Sadly, he is no more believable in the part than is another dedicated actor in another biopic, the new Scorsese picture. Leo DiCaprio hasn’t a pin on Howard Hughes. At least the focus on the all-around amazing pioneer is mainly on his innovations in the field of aviation, but I might have preferred to see two hours of the H-1 Racer in action. One thing we do learn from the film, in any case, is that production on the Hercules was stalled by Hughes’ indecision on the aircraft’s steering wheel so, there, you see, the steering wheel is important.
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