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Post by Tony Walshaw on Aug 10, 2016 7:40:31 GMT
I can’t say I’ve ever given much thought to Jimmy Young’s radio career, but I looked up some of the bands he had in session on his Radio 1 show during the late Sixties/early Seventies. Many of the names are familiar to me from psych-pop compilations such as the “Rubble” series. They include the Idle Race, the Californians, the Flying Machine, Toby Twirl, Orange Bicycle, Timebox, the Onyx and Dream Police. Many of these bands also appeared on “Discotheque” and “Lift Off” but they seem very obscure now because they didn’t have chart hits. Just as the older generation had stuck with light entertainment in the later 60s, they followed Jimmy Young and Terry Wogan when they became 'Radio Two-only' in 1972-73. When Radio One has anniversaries etc, they don't 'conceal' that Jimmy Young was a DJ on the station (he is there on photos etc). Though they are less likely to mention that he had a prime slot presenting the mid-morning show. They like to portray that only young hip DJs presented such shows. Equally, those looking at it from the artists angle (former band members, rock journalists, avid fans etc) will want to remember their act having BBC sessions, but they would prefer these to be associated with John Peel.
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Post by Tony Walshaw on Aug 10, 2016 8:05:37 GMT
To return to the topic of 'what people did (or didn't) say', I think quotes have worked their way into the collective memory purely because they do survive. One such is the newsreader who said "....and now the news, in English...." in the midst of an early Emperor Rosko show on Radio One. If a recording of this did not survive, this anecdote would not be trotted out frequently at anniversaries etc. It was only when I mentioned the infamous (although not widely remembered) news in English comment, and the fact that I remembered Rosko playing Country Joe and The Fish on the first show that the Ps as Bs were summonsed and the correct show was located. Just shows how an anally retentive memory can have its uses! You're right about the collective memory. The famous 'General Postmasters wife' driving test comment that got Kenny Everett the sack in July 1970 was also believed missing or wiped for many years until it turned up in that excellent Christmas tribute to Everett that went out a few years back. Now of course everyone of a certain age claims they remember hearing it!! It is great that you were able to precisely locate that bit of radio history Rob. The situation of the Rosko programmes indicates how 'it was just another show' for people at the BBC. Also I am glad that the show for which Kenny Everett was sacked has survived. The 'driving test comment' was always trotted out by the media when they looked back at Kenny's career. It was portrayed that he had some kind of 'rant'. In reality it was a single off the cuff remark ("....she probably crammed a fiver in his hand. I know these people....") which listeners probably thought little of when they heard it live. P.S. the term 'bubblegum' was probably invented by a music journalist who noticed a stream of pop music being churned out? And the artists and song titles tended to namecheck sugary foods that children would eat. It was a kind of progression from The Monkees promoting Kellogg's cereals in their TV show credits. It will also have been noticed (as mentioned above) that programme directors were playing such music for the record promoters, or "the people who live in the same apartment building or for the people they meet in places where you don’t run into average people". But the ordinary listener did not know that music was 'manufactured' in this way.
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Post by robchapman on Aug 10, 2016 10:21:55 GMT
"In reality it was a single off the cuff remark ("....she probably crammed a fiver in his hand. I know these people....") which listeners probably thought little of when they heard it live".
That was also my response when I finally heard it all those years later. Just how low key it was. Although I was a habitual Everett listener to all his Radio One shows (the shortlived weekday evening slot, the Sunday morning show and the saturday show when he was undoubtedly at his peak) I never heard the infamous remark at the time as I was on my way to London to see Pink Floyd playing free in Hyde Park. When we all left the park at about 5 o clock I remember seeing an Evening Standard billboard saying something like 'Radio One DJ controversial remark' and guessing straight away that it would be Everett. He really was a radio genius in the late 60s and like Mohammed Ali was stripped of his title at his peak. When he came back I don't think he had the same enthusiasm and as more than one of his ex-producers told me once he realised he could make a hundred times more money in TV for a hundred times less the effort he took the kings shilling. I was never a big fan of his TV stuff and for years held a candle for his radio years. By the 1980s of course you would meet people who didn't even know he had once been a Radio One DJ. I was so glad in later years when his radio reputation as a true pioneer was restored. Now if we could just do the same for Benny Hill please! (For all of you who think he just used to slap a little bald man on the head he used to do Fellini pastiches on the BBC.)
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Post by Richard Marple on Aug 10, 2016 12:41:03 GMT
At least the Benny Hill sketch with the French art house film review gets shown every now & again to show he's more than chasing women half his age around to Yakerty-Sax at double speed.
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Post by Tony Walshaw on Aug 13, 2016 7:40:19 GMT
He really was a radio genius in the late 60s and like Mohammed Ali was stripped of his title at his peak. When he came back I don't think he had the same enthusiasm and as more than one of his ex-producers told me once he realised he could make a hundred times more money in TV for a hundred times less the effort he took the kings shilling. I was never a big fan of his TV stuff and for years held a candle for his radio years. Kenny's late 60s radio shows, if they had all survived, I am sure could be listened to as stand-alone pieces of work. Much like you would listen to a favourite album, or watch a DVD of a show. I think that having the rug pulled from beneath his feet by the BBC will have dented some of his momentum. Simon Dee ended his run at around the same time. The departure of these two I think assisted Noel Edmonds and Dave Lee Travis rise to prominence. More broadcaster than maverick, they fitted the profile of what the BBC wanted. Kenny's shows on Thames (1978-81) were his best TV work. They had the air of irreverence that his radio shows had. The BBC TV shows had many similarities but I think (certainly viewed now) some of the sketches seem crude and smutty. This was typical of the time (early 80s) and perhaps less a reflection of Kenny or e.g. Barry Cryer.
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Post by robchapman on Aug 13, 2016 12:16:35 GMT
Kenny's late 60s radio shows, if they had all survived, I am sure could be listened to as stand-alone pieces of work. Much like you would listen to a favourite album, or watch a DVD of a show.. I agree. I'm amazed at how well a lot of the humour stands up, as well as the great music he played. He wasn't zany in the same way that he was later on TV. I mean he could be zany but it wasn't the same up up up frantic zany that he applied visually. Like the post master general quip a lot of it was low key and delivered in droll asides. I remember he could be particularly wicked about some of the programme trailers he had to play. I'll also never forget a classic show where he was locked out of the studio for the entire show and Crisp and Gran delivered the entire programme while he banged on the door outside. It was worthy of Monty Python. (And can you imagine any of his ego ridden contemporaries carrying out a similar stunt?) People forget how hip he was. This is the man who the Beatles personally trusted to compile their Xmas fan club records. John Peel, at his hippiest, used to end his show with a run down of people you should listen to (Mike Raven, Pete Drummond etc) "and listen to Kenny" he would say "because Kenny knows." And he was right. Kenny did.
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Post by Richard Marple on Aug 13, 2016 19:27:49 GMT
I've had a soft spot for Kenny Everett, with the zanyness sometimes hiding a more insightful style of humour.
The Custard Stops At Hatfield is a fun read, giving a few insights into the early days in radio.
Spoofing the religious broadcasts the pirate station carried to pay the bills is one stand out moment, especially as even in the mid 1960s not many Brits would have taken the real thing seriously.
My Dad didn't like Kenny, & Noel Edmonds after his ego got the better of him, around the time The Late Late Breakfast Show started.
Queen was a group that benefited from Kenny's championing.
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Post by Tony Walshaw on Aug 15, 2016 7:40:50 GMT
I have heard others say that Noel Edmonds was 'up himself' around the time of 'The Late Late Breakfast Show'. In previous times (Radio One, Swap Shop) this was less an evident trait.
Interesting that Noel and Kenny probably did their best work on radio. I think the same can be said of Terry Wogan. They were being themselves with the listeners, rather than 'bigging-up' in front of the viewers.
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Kev Hunter
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The only difference between a rut and a groove is the depth
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Post by Kev Hunter on Aug 15, 2016 8:35:43 GMT
Very true about Noel Edmonds, Tony - I always enjoyed his R1 show on Saturdays then subsequently on Sundays during 1971 - 72 (prior to him getting the Monday to Friday breakfast show slot). I clearly recall him championing bands such as The Strawbs, in particular playing their singles "Benedictus" (late '71) and "Here It Comes", despite neither of them charting, and his show was also where I heard Jefferson Airplane's "Pretty As You Feel" before I'd heard it anywhere else.
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Post by robchapman on Aug 15, 2016 8:42:20 GMT
Retrospective plot spoiler alert. John Peel and John Walters both used to tell the story of how they were invited to Edmonds house and saw no evidence of records or indeed anything to play records on. I thought it was common knowledge that Edmonds radio shows, particularly his famed Sunday morning slot were 'built' by his producers. I suspect that the inclusion of Jefferson Airplane, Strawbs et al were down to a certain Tim Blackmore.
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Kev Hunter
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The only difference between a rut and a groove is the depth
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Post by Kev Hunter on Aug 15, 2016 9:34:59 GMT
You could well be right about Edmonds' producers, Rob - but according to Michael Heatley's book about John Peel (on page 83), the author says that it was Dave Lee Travis' house that had the lack of vinyl or means to play it on. On being asked about this, Travis reportedly said "Anything I really like I've copied onto tape and play in the car".
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Post by robchapman on Aug 15, 2016 10:31:37 GMT
I think of all the books on Peel, Heatley's is the least reliable. The 'DJ without records' story has also been attributed to Terry Wogan in the past, but both DLT and Wogan are incorrect. It's Edmonds. While in gossip mode, a 'reliable source' once told me that years after cds became common dj currency a couple of radio 'legends' still refused to operate cd players. Well to be more precise, one refused and the other would only programme track one. Their producers had to operate them for them. This is mid/late-nineties we're talking about, nearly a decade after they were introduced.
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Post by Richard Marple on Aug 15, 2016 12:31:19 GMT
I first heard of the "DJ with no music collection" story in Harry Enfield's script book, where he mentions the inspiration for Smashy & Nicey.
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Post by robchapman on Aug 15, 2016 14:44:53 GMT
Fascinating and varied as this thread is I thought I’d just try and orientate it back towards the themes that Tony originally raised. So a couple more things to ponder about the way rock/pop history is sold back to us.
1.) A lot of rock/pop docs offer a restrictive view of the past simply because they concentrate entirely on style tribes. So it becomes a history of teds, mods, rockers, hippies, skinheads, glams, punks etc etc. These obviously have their place but the trouble is the majority of people were never any of these things. Oh, sure they might have bought the appropriate trousers or T shirt or got the haircut (cue old joke – what’s the difference between a skinhead and a suedehead? About six weeks!) but most people are rarely die hard tribal in the way that docs portray them. This leads to a very reductive and causal history of music. This was the era of this, followed by the era of that, and then that replaced this, and the XYZ of the late sixties gave way to the XYZ of the early seventies, etc etc. All very convenient for a narrative thread but all the quirks and idiosyncrasies get left out and you end up with a very predictable and repetitive view of pop history. Which leads me more provocatively to –
2.) When did a doc last challenge your point of view? I don’t mean when did it last tell you a fact you didn’t know but when did one last make you go “Oh, I’ve never thought of it like that before” or “that’s an interesting new perspective”. Me and Mrs C were watching that BBC doc about Bohemians a few months ago, presented by Victoria Coren and featuring among others Grayson Perry, Will Self and Stephen Fry (so it was never going to be dull!) At one point Victoria Coren asked Grayson Perry a question, or rather presented him with a certain point of view and he answered rather waspishly ‘are we are talking about Bohemians here or just starvation?” ‘Touche’ I went. “Yeah, but at least they left it in,” said my wife, meaning that in a rock doc you rarely get that kind of dialogue. What happens instead is that if someone says something preposterous or challengeable it’s usually left unchallenged. So let’s say, ooh for instance, Marty Balin of Jefferson Airplane suggest in all seriousness, as he indeed did in a doc a while back, that Jefferson Airplane helped bring about the end of the Vietnam war. Instead of having another editorial voice say well that’s a load of old pony isn’t it and here’s the reason why, they just move on to the next sixties ‘icon’ who says something equally tenuous. Me and the Mrs ended up having a long conversation about the last time we could remember a rock doc featuring that kind of exchange. I cited a Nick Drake doc from a few years back when two of his close Island associates argued over the merits of his lyrics. One argued that they were profound. The other said they were bad sixth form poetry. I happen to really like Nick Drake, but was glad to see that viewpoint put across. I’m a grown up. I can make up my own mind. Similarly in the more recent Kate Bush retrospective it was good to see Brett Anderson of Suede, alone among all the gushers, claiming that her early stuff was all a bit am-dram. Again bang on and well done that producer for leaving it in, but mostly it’s the same old talking heads, the same old clips, and the same old story. How many more times do we need to be told that the sixties was a time of great change? (What decade of the 20th Century wasn’t?) End of rant. Sorry it doesn’t have much to do with lost footage but it does have plenty to do with lost perspectives.
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Kev Hunter
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The only difference between a rut and a groove is the depth
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Post by Kev Hunter on Aug 15, 2016 15:29:49 GMT
Me and the Mrs ended up having a long conversation about the last time we could remember a rock doc featuring that kind of exchange. I cited a Nick Drake doc from a few years back when two of his close Island associates argued over the merits of his lyrics. One argued that they were profound. The other said they were bad sixth form poetry. I happen to really like Nick Drake, but was glad to see that viewpoint put across. I’m a grown up. I can make up my own mind. Similarly in the more recent Kate Bush retrospective it was good to see Brett Anderson of Suede, alone among all the gushers, claiming that her early stuff was all a bit am-dram. Again bang on and well done that producer for leaving it in, but mostly it’s the same old talking heads, the same old clips, and the same old story. This also reminds me of the Bolan documentary "Dandy In The Underworld " (1997) where Eric Hall, showbiz agent and friend of Marc, was asked what he thought of Marc as a lyricist and poet: he replied 'The worst, for me.. he was the worst. I used to say to him "bubbala Marc.. what's all this?" And he'd say "Eric, I've got this wonderful poem I've written..." (Hall then gives a burst of hippy-dippy Bolanesque wordbabble) "I'd say 'Pardon? That's not a poem, you schmuck.. that's a rhyme!"'
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