'Adios to the Manchester Cowboy'

I used to love the Monkees television show when I was a kid. Well I think I did - I was about 5 when it started so maybe I remember it more from later repeats? In any case, I loved it. Maybe you did too? Along with the Beatles films 'A Hard Day's Night' and 'Help!' they showed your (young) humble narrator what fantastic fun it was to be in a pop group. Well, they just muck around all day in cool clothes don't they? No arguing, unlimited money and the odd bit of singing - now that would be a job worth having wouldn't it?

Years later I realised that their records were some of the greatest examples of 1960s pop music. Detractors said that they were just manufactured by a television production company and called them 'The Pre-Fab Four' as they were originally intended to be an American rival to The Beatles; they also derided them for not playing on their early records. The same detractors no doubt hail 'Good Vibrations' and 'Pet Sounds' as works of genius - but they also featured session musicians and was recorded while the 'real' Beach Boys were away on tour. The Phil Spector productions of the time also are held up as works of art, yet again they are pure products of the studio rather than being a group performance - but of course Wilson and Spector were to cool to be criticised, while The Monkees were 'just' actors playing the part of a pop group. Well they may have started out as that, but they became one of the most iconic examples of '60's pop culture (you could of course argue that their 'manufactured' status also contributes to that title) and, I say again, made some of the greatest records of the era. Davy Jones's death means the end of The Monkees - I for one are very saddened by that news, and I happen to think that any pop music fan should be sad too.

And Ronnie Montrose has died - hardly a household name to many (although I guess that depends upon your house!) but a great guitarist none the less. I first heard of him when my older cousins Steve and Gary played me 'Bad Motor Scooter' by Montrose way back in the mid-'70s (it was on 'The Warner Bros Music Show' sampler album) which for me remains one of the great American rock recordings of the time. Here is an OGWT clip of the band from 1974 playing said song, featuring a young Sammy Hagar on vocals who of course went on to bigger but not necessarily better things. Great stuff. No really, it is. Ronnie himself went on to play for all sorts of people and remained an excellent and well-regarded musician who was still out gigging until recently. He is a sad loss to the guitar-playing World.

When last we spoke your writer wasn't exactly at the top of his game; fortunately things have improved and I'm more-or-less back to (ahem!) normal. I still haven't worked out if my sickness was caused by something that I ate or one of these bugs that we all hear about - I suppose it doesn't really matter although it would be nice to know if a weird way. Anyway I still felt a bit shaky several days after the incident last Saturday in Ascot so for once it was probably a good thing that I didn't have any gigs over the weekend. I did however see Chicken Legs Weaver at The Load Of Hay on Sunday evening - it was the first gig for Andy with a new band line-up and overall went very well, with excellent versions of 'The Israelites' (slower and heavier than the Desmond Dekker original, with barely a hint of ska) and 'When The Levee Breaks' (similar to the Led Zeppelin version, maybe a bit bluesier) standing out. I'm playing there with The Rikardo Brothers this Sunday, then Kris Dollimore returns on Sunday 25th March. Now that's something to look forward too!

In the meantime I'm off to listen to The Monkees and, er, Montrose. 'Here we come, walking down the street...' 'you get on your bad motor scooter and ride...' Hmm... I wonder how many other people are playing those two songs back-to-back?

Fantasy island

Last night myself and Big Andy journeyed to Southend to see Roger Daltrey perform 'Tommy' at The Cliffs Pavilion. As we neared Southend I saw a motorway sign that made me suddenly ask the big man the immortal question 'have you ever been to Canvey Island?' When he said that he hadn't we both realised that it was time to leave the script (and indeed the A127) for a while...

As we negotiated the magic roundabout that takes you to the road to the island I remembered one of the other times that I'd visited what is an almost mythical place for Dr. Feelgood fans like myself. We were playing a Blues Brothers show at, I think, a 50th birthday party (I can't remember where it was either; it's at moments like this that I'm reminded that one of the reasons why I started writing this blog was so that things like these wouldn't get forgotten!) and Squirrel and myself were outside the venue; as we stood talking a car came around the corner on the opposite (rather wide) pavement. This stuck me as a little odd and I was about to say as much, when another one followed it round. They weren't going slowly. Squirrel (a local lad) looked at me with a slight smile - 'things like that happen on the island'.

As we pulled up in the car park I was babbling on to Andy about the classic photos on the cover of 'Down By The Jetty', and that maybe he could take one of me for use on the Flying Squad website; as we walked up the slope to the sea wall a young man walked across our path. He was wheeling a bicycle and had a slightly scary-looking dog on a lead. He was wearing a vest and shorts, and it was therefore easy to see that he was tattooed pretty much from the top of his shaven head to his sandaled toes. He looked extraordinary, and Big Andy looked astonished. I was tempted to use Squirrel's line, but didn't.

After taking a few photos looking out across the estuary and getting a bit of (very) fresh air we got back into the car and drove around a while. Andy loved it, and so did I. The Monico, The Oyster Fleet, The Pandora's Box Guest House, the sign saying TANK FOR HIRE - Canvey Island really is a one-off. Fantastic, and as good a reason as any to watch 'Oil City Confidential' again. Not that I, or indeed you, really need an excuse...

We made our way back to the mainland (now I am getting a bit over-romantic don't you think?!?) and found The Cliffs Pavilion reasonably easily, although it certainly helped having Squirrel on the end of a phone line. After getting a lucky parking space on the road near the venue we walked along the seafront into town - Andy hadn't been to Southend before and I hadn't been there for what seems like ages so it was good to have a bit of time to look around. Squirrel had reminded me that occasional Chicago Blues Brothers keyboard man Dave Dulake runs a pub in town - once again we needed a bit of moblie phone help but found The Railway Hotel without too much trouble. As we walked in Chuck Berry was blasting out from the record player on the bar (yes, you read that bit correctly) and a young lady with blue hair came over to serve us. I ordered a couple of drinks and then asked if Dave was about; she said he was busy but he'd be out shortly - when he did emerge he looked rather worried, came over for a few minutes then said words to the effect of 'we might not be here much longer'. This would be a shame as it's an extraordinary place. Let's hope it keeps going.

Back at the venue we meet up with Squirrel and his wife Lindsay (and bumped into Rick Dawson, another sometime CBB keyboard player; we really get through them!) before catching a bit of the support act. Accompanying himself on acoustic guitar Paul Freeman played a half hour or so of his own material with a cover of 'Handle With Care' thrown in a couple of songs from the end. He was a bit sweary, very Welsh and shouldn't have played the Traveling Wilburys song as it showed up how relatively ordinary his own songs were in comparison. That said he worked hard and got the audience on his side when he invited a young lady called Kelly up to join him on backing vocals, so I won't be too cruel about him here.

At 8.30 Mr. Daltrey and co. walked on stage to a warm if not over-enthusiastic reception; as the band readied themselves the man himself explained how that after the show at the Royal Albert Hall earlier this year he'd realised that 'there isn't any other music like 'Tommy'' and so he'd decided to carry on singing it. A simple enough sentiment, and one which over the next 70-odd minutes was pretty much proved to be true. The band sounded much more familiar with the songs, the back projections worked well and Daltrey was in fine voice. The audience stayed fairly subdued throughout, politely applauding until the end of 'Listening To You' when they all stood up together and went crazy. Even Daltery seemed a bit taken aback. The next hour-and-a-quarter saw rarely heard gems from the Who back catalogue (an excellent version of 'Going Mobile' with Simon Townshend on lead vocals was a real standout) alongside Daltery solo songs, a Johnny Cash medley and songs from the likes of Taj Mahal. It got a bit chaotic in places - some songs sounded more rehearsed than others, the backing track for 'Baba O'Riley' played too fast and 'The Kids Are Alright' went completely wrong in the middle when the guitarist broke a string - but both Daltery and the band seemed to be really enjoying themselves and that feeling certainly translated across to the audience who gave them a great reception. The show ended with Daltery playing 'Blue Red And Grey' on a ukulele, and somewhere during the show I decided that the afore-mentioned guitarist looked a bit like Mickey Dolenz. I also decided that this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Well, it's not is it?