Hendrix Lives On!

I've been very remiss with postings of late, but with good reason.

September 18th marked the 40th anniversary commemoration of the death in London of Jimi Hendrix. To commemorate this auspicious occasion we organised a weekend of special events. Understandably, Jimi took precedence over blogging.

And what a weekend it was!

One overriding objecive was for us to mount a plaque at the Hyde Park Hotel, in London's Bayswater district. This was Jimi's first 'home' but, incredibly,there was nothing here to mark the fact. I'm proud to be able to say that the hotel now has a suitable recognition of its place in rock history, with the plaque being 'unveiled' by the incomparable Jeff Dexter, a personal friend of Jimi's from his London days.

An allied objective was to mark the occasion fittingly, with a gig in a London club that Jimi himself would have known, and in front of the size of audience he was playing to back in his early days with the Experience. Authenticity was the key as there seem to be so many other commemorations where commercialization was the driving force (and a certain London hotel is especially to be castigated for its attempt to jump on the bandwagon).

With the amazing tribute band 'Are you Experienced' playing at the 120 capacity Troubadour Club, it could not have been more authentic. Even down to my ears still ringing after 3 days...

John Campbell, who 'does' Jimi, is truly fantastic, but he couldn't do it without the support of Kevin Grady, drums /backing vocals and Mark Arnold on bass. Every number of their 2 hours was note perfect.Kevin's rumming on the demanding 'Machine Gun' was superb! You didn't have to close your eyes to 'see' Jimi; he was there in front of you in the persona of John. The place rocked. Our special guests, the Brazilian rock superstars of 'Pitty' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nIvh-6sQiQ&a=GxdCwVVULXfxd3IKue0RWY3lAXkFJLNg&list=ML&playnext=1), claimed it was one of the best evenings they'd had, adding that they had no regrets over missing their MTV award presentation ceremony back in Brazil for this. A compliment indeed.

Complementing the raw energy of 'Are Your Experienced' was a late night set from an incredible new Brazilian duo, 'Sambulus', comprising husband and wife team, Luana and Ceasar Barbosa. These guys have been officially sanctioned by the Hendrix estate and their interpretation of Hendrix numbers, female vocal accompanied by piano and guitar, is memorable. To be quite truthful, with their level of professionalism and playing ability, they would not have been out of place at Ronnie Scott's commemorative night where classic violinist, Nigel Kennedy, performed with special guests (including Eric Burdon). A name to watch out for I suspect.

In my next blog I'll report back on our Friday evening where we were privileged to host four incredible rock'n'roll characters, all of whom had personal memories of Jimi that they unselfishly shared with us.

If you were at any of our events, including the special city tours, then let us know what you felt and what memories of Hendrix they brought back for you.

The Legend that is Stan Webb

Perhaps the greatest of all historic London venues was the famed club on Eel Pie Island in the western, riverside-suburb of Twickenham. The bands that graced its tiny stage though the 60s read like a rock'n'roll hall of fame. The Stones, Who, Yardbirds, Genesis, Pink Floyd, are just a few of the greats who learned their craft at the Eel Pie.

Alas, the original club burned down, amidst the usual rumours that accompany such events. In 2002, a group of fans, headed by Gina Way and Warren Walters, decided that the name was just too iconic to lose; the Eel Pie Club was reborn. It is still in Twickenham,now upstairs in the Cabbage Patch pub, and dedicated to preserving those great musical traditions. It’s a marvellous place to see some half-forgotten legends, and even the odd celebrity slumming it!

Stan Webb, and version 567 of Chicken Shack, graced its stage this week. And one has to say that he, as expected, did not let the history down. I suspect that for many readers this is a name that will simply evoke a response of 'who'? Well, Stan Webb is not only a legend in his own lifetime, but his early recorded output deserves the accolade of 'hidden nuggets'. He's also a true rock'n'roll survivor.

Way back in the mid 60s, when British bands were first discovering the blues and riding the electric rhythm and blues wave, two very similar bands competed in friendly rivalry. Aspiring amongst those to be the top blues band were Fleetwood Mac and Stan Webb's Chicken Shack (version 1, with a certain Christine Perfect on vocals. Ms Perfect was to defect from the latter to the former, and to become Mrs John McVie). Mac, boasting the fabled Peter Green, turned away from the pure R&B sound and produced a number of classic hits like 'Albatross' and 'Man of the World'. As everyone knows, the ensuing soap opera that marked 45 years or so of Mac history included a move to LA, new band members, madness, religious cult conversions, splits, band changes, marriages, divorces, drug abuse and multi-million selling classics.

Meanwhile, on another planet... Stan Webb soldiered on, and on, and on. Mostly with ever-changing line-ups of Chicken Shack, but also having a spell with Savoy Brown. Thought by many to be at least as good a guitarist as Eric Clapton, real success (in terms of record sales) has eluded him. And stadium-sized performances have been few. But Stan’s fans are lucky; catching Webb at a small venue like the Eel Pie Club can be a real pleasure. Small enough to allow you to get up close and personal, I watched his fingers (and thumb!) dance at impossible speeds up and own the fret. He still retains a great voice and sustains high notes from the back of his throat like someone 40 years his junior. Delivering a couple of numbers in Elvis and Johnny Cash toning reminded me of an interview I once did with Stan where he ran through a range of vocal impersonation he could do. He did a great impression of the comedian Kenneth Williams from the ‘Carry on’ films! What’s nice too is the rapport he develops with the audience, helped by his unpretentious manner and dress.

So why didn’t he crack it? The only song he’s really remembered for is ‘I’d rather Go Blind’ which Chicken Shack (with Christine Perfect) took to No. 14 in the 1969 UK charts. Unlike the Fleetwoods, Stan and band didn’t really move on. They were one of the many excellently rocking progressive bands that got overtaken by punk and new wave. Pity really as Stan Webb could have been a contender for top-dog. Still, if you’re into R&B played stunningly well then you’ll go a long way before hearing anyone better.

And if you're in London, or thinking of visiting, you could do worse than get on the Eel Pie Club mail list; you never know who you might catch there.

Hidden Nuggets
Forty Blue Fingers Freshly Packed And Ready To Serve/ Blue Horizon 1969
OK Ken / Blue Horizon 1969

Links:
Chicken Shack’s I’d rather go blind’ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ohx9Ve7-GS0
Eel Pie Club http://www.eelpieclub.com/

Britain-Brazilian Rock Connections

The ABC Trust (patron, one Jimmy Page), a charity existing to support Brazilian street kids, hosted an exclusive gig at the Embassy Club in London this evening. The sublime Bebel Gilberto previewed some of her new CD, delivering an acoustic set to about 90 lucky invited guests.

Not a name that you recognise? No? This Grammy-award nominated lady is the daughter of the famed João Gilberto and singer Miúcha. Her uncle is singer/composer Chico Buarque. Still no glimmer of recognition? Shame on you! But it is hardly surprising, though I'll bet Spanish, French and Italian readers of this blog will know the names. And it goes without saying that the Brazilians will! But we English-speaking Anglo-Saxons are very limited in our appreciation of any music where the lyrics are not sung in our familar tongue. OK, admittedly there's a limited appreciation of bossa nova and salsa but I'll lay short odds right now that Santana and the Buena Vista Social Club are about the only two Latin acts most can immediately call to mind. That we voluntarily cut ourselves off from the richness of other cultures is our loss, believe me.

It hasn't happened the other way though. No such cultural myopia in Brazil where local musicians have long looked to England for inspiration. Trawl through a 'sebo' in Rio (second-hand book and music shops) and you'll find stacks of 1960s and 70s UK vinyl gold as an indication of listening tastes. It's not just the popular chart stuff but real obscurities. Look at the gig list in Sao Paulo today and there are contemporary UK Indie bands filling the clubs. Scan the tracks of Brazilian superstars and wannabees alike are you'll find covers of Lennon & McCartney, Jagger and Richards, and many more recent songwriters.

Two names stands out as being conduits through which rock flowed into Rio; Gilberto Gil and Cateano Veloso. These two' fleeing Brazil's then military government, lived the lives of London-based exiles for three years in the early 70s. While here, they absorbed the musical landscape. Gil played and toured with some of the 70s greats. He in turn influenced British contemporaries. It came as little surprise, just a few years back, to see Eric Clapton in the audience for one of Gil's regular London returns.

Gil and Veloso lived in Chelsea, off the Kings Road, and in Nottinghill Gate. The property became a centre for artistic Brazilian exiles I read somewhere that Gil shared a flat with Terry Reid but inevitably, this being Bob Marley's territory and the 70s his time, it was reggae as well as rock that they took with them back to Brazil.

Look them up on Wiki. Gil became Minister of Culure under the populist President Lula.

Modern Brazilian rock albums show off these multi-cultural influences. Listen to Os Mutantes, the only non-English-language psychadelic album considered a classic by the critics. The influence of UK rock is there but tempered and twisted into a distinctly Brazilian feel with bossa and samba patterns often creeping in. One fine contemporary CD I heard the other day was by Rodrigo Santos. His skillful re-arrangments of standard Beatle numbers really freshen them up.

Anyway, I digress. Bebel Gilberto was wonderful. Two short sets, mostly bossa-based, and if I'm not mistaken with at least one Veloso-penned number. It was great of this international star to give her services free to help the ABC Trust recruit a few new well-heeled supporters. It is to be hoped that at least 90 people went home with a new appreciation of music not sung in English!

British Sea Power to play 'Festinho'

Breaking news!

Just heard that 'British Sea Power' has been signed to play 'Festinho'!

For those who don't know, Festinho (translation from the Brazilian-Portuguese 'little festival') is a cracking festival taking place at Hinwick House, Bedford, over the Bank Holiday weekend, 27th to 29th August.

Forget the queues, the crowds, the rank commercialisation, the over-priced entry ticket, and the officious, crowd controlling 'security'. Festinho is the antidote to the run-of-the-mill festival. And they don't come much cheaper!'Cool' is really, for once, the correct description. Around 2000 people attend this annual 'best-kept-secret' festival, raising money for Brazilian street children.

The guys in charge of booking bands are all 'Big Chill' graduates so quality acts are guaranteed. But securing British Sea Power is a major play! Personally, I can't wait to see a band on their way to being a stadium act, playing in the rather more intimate environment of an English Stately home!

Tickets are available here: http://festinho.com

Get film tickets FREE

The British Film Institute (BFI) has an interesting evening on August 17th, fittingly following up on the London 60s Week. Entitled 'We Love Dusty Springfield', Emma Smart explores the woman behind the legend through a plethora of clips and classic Dusty performances. It's an unusual angle as the talk asks why Dusty became such an icon for gay audiences.

The BFI is also celebrating the career of the ultimate Hollywood maverick, Steve McQueen throughout August. Be it detective or soldier, cowboy or thief McQueen always emerges as the quintessence of cool, the rebel, the loner. Titles range from his '60s classics like The Great Escape and Bullit to McQueen's later character work in Papillon where he delivered a near Oscar winning performance. McQueen's career was cut short by his premature death in 1980 but he will always be regarded as the first, modern movie star. http://www.bfi.org.uk/whatson/bfi_southbank/film_programme/august_seasons/steve_mcqueen

McQueen inspired a few rock lyrics from acts including Sheryl Crow, Prefab Sprout and the Drive by Truckers. Fancy going to see a movie? Well answer this question correctly and we'll send you two free tickets. Which of the above sings the following?

Steve McQueen Steve McQueen
When I was a little boy I wanted to grow up to be
Steve McQueen Steve McQueen
The coolest doggone motherscratcher on the silver screen

The festival runs to the end of August but the sooner you send your answer, the more choice of movies you'll have.

Rock'n'Roll and the fall of communism

I have this theory that in a hundred or so years time, when historians are trying to make sense of the broad sweep of 20th century history, there will be a general recognition that rock music played as important a part in the fall of communism, and lifting of the 'iron curtain', as any other factor.

David Smith is a blog-follower and general supporter of our rock tours, recommending us to his local friends if coming to London. He currently works in Skopje, Macedonia and writes 'We have had Bob Dylan and Billy Idol so far this summer, so not too bad'.

For those who political geography is rusty, this was formally part of communist Yugoslavia. One of my first overseas 'adventures' was hitch-hiking to Sarajevo (also then in Yugoslavia) with the intention of seeing where Gavrillo Princip had fired the fatal shots that provided the spark for the start of the Great War of 1914. I didn't expect to find any rock music; in fact, I'd read that it was virtually banned on the other side of the curtain.

It was quite an adventure crossing the border into the east in those early 70s. Everything was austere. With no advertising there was little colour other than the incredibly bold state propaganda posters. Grey, bleak and superficially unwelcoming. Uniforms everywhere. The atmosphere was made edgier by the fact that at the time there were three or four Brits being held in a Yugoslavian lock-up for taking pictures of planes. 'Be careful' and 'Don't expect people to talk to you; they're all watched by their secret police', were the warnings I got before entering the country.

So there I was, tingling with suppressed excitement and not a little fear, looking for a bar down some back alley in a town on the coast of what is now Croati. Feeling a little like a cold war spy,I romantically imagined I was being followed. Suddenly, to my disbelieving ears I heard the unmistakable strains of a rock riff and kick-drum pattern. It wasn't possible, was it? I stealthily made my way to a half-open door as the beat grow closer and louder. Deep Purple's 'Smoke on the Water' pounded out from a tiny, portable Dansette in the corner of a room filled with kids.

I hesitantly peered in. I was spotted. I felt the urge to turn tail and run but I was rooted to the spot by sheer magnetism of that heart-grabbing riff. They sussed I was a foreigner immediately; probably due to the length of my hair and Levis. You can guess the rest; I was welcomed in, handed a beer, found myself surrounded by pretty young women who wanted to know what life was like in the West. I'm still unclear as to how I got back to the 'pension'where I was staying, much, much later that night.

That's it, I thought. Communism can't last. You can't stop the kids listening to rock; it's an aspirational bridge to the West. Six or so years later, with Brezhnev still in power and the Soviet army invading Afghanistan, Elton John was performing in Moscow, Zappa was an icon of the dissadent Czechs, and Beatle records were being openly sold in East Germany and Hungary (see http://www.beatlemania.hu/hng.htm). We had launched the 'nuclear option' but it was called rock'n'roll not Trident, and 30 years on the idol of the east is a Billy not a Karl or Josef.

There be dinosaurs about!

You don't need to visit London's Natural History Museum to see dinosaurs in London this weekend (24th and 25th July). There is a herd of them in Victoria Park.

Gracing the High Voltage festival stage this weekend are the likes of Uriah Heep, Steve Hacket, Marillion, (the fantastic) Argent, Backman Turner and the wonderful Wishbone Ash. Bands you'd have sworn were extinct but remembered with respect through the dim, distant mists of time. I had to look at the site address twice to make sure it did read Victoria Park and not Jurassic...

Mighty amongst these lumbering giants are the headliners, ZZ Top and ... wait for it ELP! Yes, Emerson, Lake and Palmer.

ELP are celebrating their 40th anniversary with this 'final', farewell gig. Then fossilisation sets in (though there were those in the late '70s punk movement who'd have argued the process actually began then).

They were a fantastic band though. A supergroup if ever there was one. The memory of Emerson plunging knives into his organ (electric, that is!) is unforgettable, though I remember my first ELP concert at the Colston Hall, Bristol, 1970, for entirely different reasons. As we waited expectantly for them to appear I looked in amazement at a girl sitting on the stage. It couldn't be could it? She looked so like an old flame from the grammar (high) school back home in South Wales. In my pre-college years she'd dumped me. 'Rebbecca?', I shouted up from the foot of the stage. She turned to see me. 'What are you doing?', I shouted. 'Oh,' she replied nonchalantly, 'I'm Carl Palmer's girlfriend now.'

I got a gasped 'pardon!?' out as the lights dimmed, and she faded into the side-stage gloom never to be seen again though I looked long and hard after the concert, hoping for introductions, backstage parties or even a souvenir drumstick... And I was so deflated. No wonder she'd have none of me when she could pull a rock god!

I never found out what became of her. Certainly not Mrs CP. Pity in a way. I'd have shot down to Jurassic Park to see her and meet the grand kids, and maybe, finally, Mr Palmer himself.