The turning point in Larry’s life, which ultimately led him from California to London and from the L.A. scene to Soft Machine and the Canterbury Scene, took place in 1965. Remembers Larry :
Mike McClellan had his accident – he was driving back from a gig, fell asleep in a big van he had, rolled in and rattled around in that thing and really scrambled his brains – he was bad ! His motor functions were very much disabled for a long time. We went over to see him at his mother’s house after he’d gotten out of hospital. He was trying to play the fiddle and he was pretty spazzed. It was sad. But he’s fought his way back over the years, he got married and had a kid and stuff. But back then it was a shock to us all – he was one of the guys, and it really took him out of things for several years. Then I lost touch with him, because I went to Pasadena City College for two years, then I went up to UCSB in Santa Barbara and graduated in ’65.
The course of Larry’s life in his early twenties was highly unusual among his generation, according to McClellan :
Many of us were in awe of Larry because he finished his college in 4 years, like one is ‘supposed to’ ! He did two years at Pasadena City College, and went on to the University of Santa Barbara and finished two years later. Then he went to Europe and did many crazy things, which you probably know better than I do ! He wasted his life after he graduated, while Sandy and I and some others did some of that before we graduated college – took me ten years to get a BA because I kept hitch-hiking around North America !
Indeed, in 1965 Nowlin left California, beginning what would turn out to be a decade living in Europe.
I and a bunch of other hippies got on a bus and drove around the country and ended up in New York, then went up to Vermont and kind of hung out between New York City and Vermont for a while. And then one day I got on an Icelandic Airlines plane flying over to Europe – landing in Scotland, actually. It didn’t cost much, I remember. I wasn’t too clear about what I was doing, to tell you the truth. I had a guitar, went over with a guy I’d met in Vermont, and then we bought a motorcycle in Glasgow, and ended up broke in London. Then we went to Paris and froze our asses off in Paris for part of the winter in some “flop house” with a tubercular guy coughing all night next door. Then we went down to Spain, and hung out in Spain for a while, mostly in Ibiza, where I would end up spending a lot of time, as chance would have it.
This is when fate intervened and Larry crossed paths with the Canterbury Scene in exile…
I was over in Majorca, visiting, on some occasion during that period, in early ’66 or somewhere around that, and there I met Daevid Allen [and Kevin Ayers], the guys that ended up being in the Soft Machine, who were there, I think, on holiday. I don’t remember exactly where we met, probably some club. I don’t know why, but for some reason, they said, ‘Oh, why don’t you come and join us ?’ I think we met through Jane Alexander, actually.
Jane Alexander was to be a pivotal character in the events which followed. Aged 23 at the time, Larry had met her in Majorca not long after arriving, and they’d begun a relationship. Beyond this, she was an interesting character in more ways than one. Explains Nowlin :
Jane was the daughter of a British Army general, Henry Alexander. She, I seem to remember, worked for Chris Lord, whom I met a few times. Lord Brothers Tours were cheap flights for working class Brits to go on holiday. They had started in Yugoslavia, on the Dalmatian coast, where Chris had spent some time as a student, and of course Majorca and the Canaries and all these other places that got in the ‘tour package’ map. I think he was an East End rags-to-riches guy – drove across the Sahara desert in a Range Rover with his girlfriend, and his hair turned from grey to brown again after that – or so he said !
I was later able to correspond with Jane Alexander, who set the record straight on a number of Larry’s memories :
I never worked for Chris Lord, he was a personal friend. I was working for Mike Jeffery. I had worked for him previously at the office of Anim, 39, Gerrard Street, as his PA. What happened then was, Mike needed a DJ in Majorca. He’d opened a discotheque, The Toltec, in El Terreno, Palma. I was bored with London life and wanted a change.
I couldn’t resist asking Jane if she knew whether any of the stories around Mike Jeffery (most famous, of course, as Jimi Hendrix’s manager), his ‘unusual’ business dealings and alleged links with the MI-5…
Probably exaggerated. However, Mike had met my father when he was in military intelligence – my father was a general. I do know that Mike was very tough about money, tough with Jimi from the start. “Hey Joe” was n°1, and Jimi was waiting to see Mike in the office… He told me that he’d seen a jacket in a shop that he liked, but he had no money to buy it. I told him to get the money from Mike … he did ! The last time that I saw Jimi, in Majorca – I’m vague about the year -, he told us that Mike owed him a lot of money and that if he didn’t pay up, he didn’t want to do the next US tour.
Had she met either Daevid Allen or Kevin Ayers before Larry met them ?
I met them around the same time. They were living in Deya. Daevid rented a house there with Gilli Smyth and her daughter. Robert Graves was living just outside the village. A lot of people rented houses there, mainly in the summer – artists, painters… A pleasant place to be in those days !
At one point they all went off to London with Wes [Brunson], who was backing them. I was still working as DJ at the Toltec. Wes was as nutty as a fruit cake ! He was very spaced out and flying high, he was very elated and dripping dollars ! He loved the idea of backing a pop group, etc., and living the “scene”.
Kevin and Daevid had recently befriended Larry, so he was a logical candidate for a position in the proposed band :
They already had the house in Kent. I’m not sure why they needed a guitarist, but they said, ‘Hey Larry, won’t you come along ?’
While I was never able to trace Phil Howard’s current whereabouts, I still had minimal documentation of his brief career before and after Soft Machine which I was then able to expand upon. Information about Soft Machine’s original guitarist was much scarcer. As it turned out, I didn’t even have his name right. Often spelled “Nolan”, most notably in Pete Frame’s Soft Machinery family tree, he is actually Larry Nowlin, and not much was said of him outside of being from California and having quickly left the band because, as Daevid Allen later explained, there could only be one lead guitarist in Soft Machine and Allen wanted the position !
I had few clues to trace Larry Nowlin to his current location, although a contributor to What’s Rattlin’?, Fred Hodshon, had mentioned having had dinner with him when he worked for a company named Lightwave Systems – so at least there seemed hope that I could eventually find him. In the meantime, I took advantage of the expansion of the Internet to google Larry’s name and see what came up. I had discovered Nowlin had had some musical association at one point with David Lindley, the leader of psych band Kaleidoscope and later a ubiquitous session musician and solo artist on the California scene. I had made contact with Lindley in 2000, and he was kind enough to reply but couldn’t be of much help regarding Larry’s present-day whereabouts –
He really disappeared about 35 years ago, and I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I know lots of people, and to keep track of all of them would take ten lifetimes, and I only have one !
Fast forward a few years, and thanks to a Google search I came across a page mentioning both Lindley and Larry Nowlin – it was written by one Mike McClellan, who was reminiscing about an unnamed ‘jug band’ he had been in which had been active in the Pasadena, CA, area in the early 60’s, playing at the Cat’s Pajamas club in Arcadia, CA, with a line-up of Marty Cantor (jug, 12-string guitar), Sandy Moseley (banjo, mandolin), Larry Nowlin (guitar) and McClellan himself (clarinet, fiddle, harmonica, 12-string guitar).
I managed to get in touch with McClellan, who had a lot to say on Larry Nowlin, so I’ll just quote at length from our correspondence.
Larry was a student at Pasadena City College when I met and played with him. That was back in 1961. I was a ‘star’ at the Cat’s Pajamas, a no-count coffee house that tended toward the more traditional folk music and jazz instead of the commercial stuff. There was a bunch of us that hung out there. I met David Lindley there, Roger Bush (who went on to record bluegrass with the Kentucky Colonels with Clarence White), and others now famous in their fields. Larry was learning to play acoustic guitar: blues, jug-band, bluegrass, whatever. I was about his age, just slightly ahead of him on the curve of music. Nevertheless, he had a dobro guitar before I did ! We were jamming all the time – music was our life then. I was trying to earn a living with it just out of high school.
David Lindley was a grade behind us, but very quick musically. David was a sideman with me at the Topanga Canyon Banjo & Fiddle Contest in the summer of 1961. I came in first or second on banjo, but didn’t place on fiddle. I don’t remember if or where David placed then, but he came in first for the next several years. When I played the Ash Grove around November ’61, David played with me and a guy named Phil Cleveland on the Friday and Saturday, and I was solo the rest of the week. In the Spring of ’62, I got a concussion and was out of music for a few years, but David went on with it with a fury. Larry did play with David – many of the Cat’s Pajamas crew did. Larry and Sandy Mosely (also in our jug band, and a fine 5-string banjo player who later was actually on some commercial folk albums) came up to see me right after my concussion.
I don’t yet remember the name of our jug band, but I do remember that when I finally got my drivers’ license, Larry, Phil Cleveland and I drove up Big Santa Anita Canyon in the Angeles National Forest. I had a big one-ton Chevy panel truck, we had our instruments (banjo, guitars, fiddle), we got out at the end of the road and walked down by a stream, where we all picked and grinned. Folks were walking by and they enjoyed it, as we did ! That was the Chevy in which a I went to sleep in and got my concussion after coming back from a gig in Santa Barbara.
It was Mike McClellan who eventually got me a contact with Larry Nowlin, and I was finally able to begin an e-mail correspondence with him, followed by a lengthy phone interview. Unfortunately, a plan to meet up when I visited California in 2006 failed to materialise, but our exchanges were in-depth enough to cover the main facts.
I was born on February 14th, Valentine’s Day, ’44. I was a little young in my school group, by a year I think. A lot of us went to high school together. Al Marian and I grew up on the same block, and also another guy named Jim Terrell, who’s a fairly famous visual artist here in the States, doing light sculptures and stuff, he’s been in Time Magazine a few times – before they had Boyz n the Hood we were the boys on the ‘hood ! The Kingston Trio started it for most of us suburban kids. We were all hanging round the Pasadena area, just a bunch of young guys with different skills – or lack of skills ! – and enthusiasms, playing around the same music scene. It was strictly local – the greater Pasadena area. Mike McClellan, Sandy Moseley, Al Merian and I – none of us ever became professional, although Alan played classical guitar for a while. Southern California had a tradition of guitar ‘pyrotechnicians’ like Ry Cooder in those days. I’d say that musically, Soft Machine were about as accomplished as anyone I had played with at that time, although that may not be saying much !
As Mike said, we played at a place called Cat’s Pajamas in Arcadia, then the Ice House in Pasadena and the bigger one, the Ash Grove, somewhere in Hollywood, a lot of good players there, that was a step up – a real night club ! They had a lot of touring folk musicians of various kinds. I remember Reverend Gary Davis, I always liked him, he did street gospel stuff, with a big J-200 guitar, all by himself. Pete Seeger and all those kinds of people would play there in and out. There was a kid named Clarence White [later with the Byrds, etc.] there, and he was killed [in 1973], in a car accident outside a club – he was loading up instruments, and some car ran in the back of his car and squashed him.
And after I came back to the States years later – having lived in Europe from ’65 to ’75 -, I went down and saw Lindley play somewhere down in Santa Monica – McCabe’s, a club there. This was after he’d been playing with Jackson Browne and made some money for years, he was playing a little solo gig, and it was really funny – he was basically playing the same stuff that he was before, a lot better but basically the same stuff, so it was kind of interesting. He got this little band called El Rayo-X, a nice kind of skiffle, dance band – good little band. But when I saw Dave, he didn’t look too good, he looked like a junkie, I don’t know that he was or not, he just looked like it. But I don’t know, I never had anything to do with Jackson Browne or any of that pop stuff, over here, ‘cause I was away, and when I came back, my life kind of took a different route.
The next instalment of our story will look at Larry’s departure from California and eventual arrival in the UK via Majorca.
Arguably the most obscure, though by no means less talented, member of Soft Machine was Phil Howard, the Australian drummer who replaced Robert Wyatt in September 1971 and was in turn replaced by John Marshall who has more or less retained the position ever since. In fact during my research he is the one ex-member I never managed to locate, let alone interview (watch this space for an in-depth interview with original Softs guitarist Larry Nowlin !) In fact I am not even entirely sure he is still alive, although our good friend Leonardo at MoonJune told me he’d heard Phil was indeed still with us and living in his native Australia.
Retracing Howard’s career is, consequently, something of a challenge. To my knowledge, not a single interview of him exists, so we’re left with contemporary press coverage and accounts by his former bandmates to piece the story together.
The best starting point is probably Caparius – especially since that band is itself quite obscure, having left no recorded legacy despite being active for 18 months and boasting at one point a stellar line-up including Howard, Neville Whitehead, Gary Boyle (formerly of Brian Auger’s Trinity and later of Isotope) and Dave MacRae (later of Nucleus, Matching Mole, Mike Gibbs…).
I was able to interview several former members of Caparius, not least the band’s leader and founder, saxophonist Clive Stevens. I had a good starting point in a Melody Maker feature from April 1971, which I will now sum up. Aged 26 at the time, Stevens had grown up in Bristol, leaving to the USA in 1962 to spend a year at the Berklee School of Music (a classmate of his was future piano legend Keith Jarrett), followed by two years as army bandsman. After a period living in San Francisco, he returned to England in 1968. In the summer of 69, he rehearsed for a period with the band Dada led by guitarist Pete Gage, which initially included Neville Whitehead on bass. The pair began holding private improvised sessions on the side. Meanwhile, Stevens joined Manfred Mann’s Chapter III, and around October 1969 formed Caparius with, initially, Whitehead, Howard and Australian guitarist Peter Martin. The band’s name referred to the astrological signs of its members – two Capricorn and two Sagittarius.
Let us first look at Neville Whitehead’s background, which I learned through a long-distance telephone conversation with him. His musical career had begun in his native New Zealand, his first notable engagement being a stint with pianist Mike Walker’s trio, which acted as resident rhythm section for visiting foreign musicians, at Auckland’s leading jazz club at the time, the Montmartre, where he remembers first meeting Dave MacRae. He then moved to Sydney where he joined a jazz big band which backed the likes of Liza Minelli, Tony Bennett and Dusty Springfield. After a brief stay in the United States, he arrived in London around the late Summer of 1969, soon getting his first gig playing with saxophonist Don Rendell. Remembers Whitehead :
I had just arrived in London and was staying with [Nucleus saxophonist] Brian Smith in Gunnersbury Avenue, and Clive rang up one day and said to Brian, ‘Do you know of any bass players ?’, and Brian said, ‘Well, I happen to have one staying here with me !’ So that’s how we met, and we just clicked. He had just come out of Berklee and had brought back a whole pile of music that we played, and from there we started writing our music.
The band at this point was still unnamed and lacked a drummer. Around Christmas 1969, Neville Whitehead received a phone call from Peter Martin, a guitarist he had met when he lived in Sydney. Martin had just spent two years in Madrid studying classical guitar with Regino Sainz de la Maza and had decided to move to London. Remembers Whitehead :
Peter turned up from Spain, called me and I said to him, ‘What are you doing ? Come and have a play !’ Of course, having just spent two years studying with Regino Sainz de la Maza, his technique was just mind-blowing ! Then through Peter we got Phil [Howard]. He always played right on the edge all the time – he never took prisoners ! Sometimes it was magnificent because of that, forced you out there and… you played !
I was able to get in touch with Peter Martin, which was fortunate as he had more information than any of the others on Howard’s own background :
I first met Phil Howard in a country town in Australia called Cooma. I was playing my first out-of-town stint (I grew up in Sydney) in my first ‘real’ band. Phil was studying with Graeme Morgan, who was playing at another club in this town. Graeme Morgan was a well-known session drummer from Melbourne with some astonishing techniques. Phil was a high-energy drummer, with great hands. In much of Phil’s technique, I could hear Graeme’s influence. I later caught up with Phil when I took a short Christmas break in England during my time in Spain. At that time he was gigging at the Latin Quarter in Soho – I think that was the name of the club. He had been in London a few years already, bypassing Australia’s larger cities and heading straight to London for his ‘fame and fortune’.
I had contact numbers for Neville and Phil when I arrived in London and visited them socially – separately. I was looking for accommodation, and Neville said there was a room where he was staying – a house in Uxbridge Road, Shepherd’s Bush, whose owners were supportive of our musical endeavours. Neville married the daughter some years later !
Of course it didn’t take long before we said, ‘Let’s have a play !’ Neville said he knew a good sax player [Clive] and I said I knew a good drummer [Phil]. We rehearsed in the basement flat of the house. The music was pretty much freeform from the start. As we tuned up, some phrases were played and responded to. Soon we were in full flight. A few ‘heads’ were submitted, which we used as starting points, but other times we would begin without a word being said.
Caparius played their first concert on March 8th, 1970 at the Lyceum, sharing a rather eclectic bill with the Spencer Davis Group and Principal Edward’s Magic Theatre. Ted Ward reviewed the concert in Melody Maker, calling Caparius “Britain’s answer to the Gary Burton Quartet” but expressed reservations about Howard’s style :
Howard, an outstanding drummer, is more of a jazz stylist, with plenty of tricky cymbal work but not enough straight-ahead skin-bashing.
Stevens picks up the Caparius story :
We played a concert in Hyde Park where we were spotted by the famous folk singer Rory McEwen. Because there was no music or group around anywhere close to what we were doing – we were arguably the world’s very first jazz-rock/fusion group -, he became enamoured with us and attempted to get us signed to Atlantic Records, being that the head of the label, Ahmet Ertegun, was a close friend of his. However, we met another producer called David Williams, who fell in love with the band and proceeded to sign us to NEMS Enterprises to record an LP for CBS Records. We recorded it at Sound Techniques in Chelsea, London. However, it was never released because the record company said it was too avant-garde and that they did not know how to promote such a new vision in contemporary music. I have cried myself to sleep ever since !
Stevens still has the original track listing, which was as follows :
Side 1 : 1. Stumble – 2. Nova ’72 – 3. The Parameters of Saturn
Side 2 : 1. Sorcery – 2. Romance de Amor – 3. Venutian Rhythm Dance
Some of the titles may not be unfamiliar to some – not only did “Nova ’72” and “The Parameters of Saturn” later turn up on Stevens’ first album as leader, 1972’s Atmospheres, (whose all-star line-up included the Mahavishnu Orchestra rhythm section of Rick Laird and Billy Cobham plus guitarists John Abercrombie, Ralph Towner and Steve Khan), but “Venutian Rhythm Dance” was covered by legendary pianist Bill Evans on his 1976 live album Montreux III, a duo with bassist Eddie Gomez.
Of the ‘lost’ album, Peter Martin reflects :
It wasn’t musically successful, to my mind. I remember the environment of audio separation – listening to each other through headphones – didn’t sit well with our need for, at times, intimate interplay. Like most musicians in the situation we were in, the budget wasn’t there to experiment with production techniques, and we didn’t have sufficient experience as a group in this environment.
None of the musicians seem to have kept a copy of the album in any shape or form, and it seems unlikely it will ever be heard again. Indeed, recalls Whitehead :
The tapes got lost in New York. What happened was, a fire hydrant got broken by a car running into it, and all the water went down off the street into the studio [where the tape was stored] and washed a lot of stuff out.
In spite of this setback, added with the lack of media attention, the members of Caparius began to branch out and play with other bands on the London jazz scene. In particular the Whitehead-Howard rhythm section joined the Keith Tippett Group in the Summer of 1970, both participating in September in the recording of the album Dedicated To You, But You Weren’t Listening, alongside guests like Gary Boyle and Robert Wyatt. Wyatt himself had recently asked Whitehead to play bass on his solo album The End Of An Ear, recorded in August (again at Sound Techniques). The incestuous connections between Caparius and Soft Machine didn’t stop there : with Wyatt intent on leaving the Softs after the band’s appearance at the Proms, Howard was one of the drummers auditioned as a potential replacement in August. Eventually, Wyatt was persuaded to stay. Elton Dean, who had also appeared on Wyatt’s album, took Whitehead and Howard as rhythm section for his own group, which he would later name Just Us.
Peter Martin was by now pessimistic about Caparius’s future prospects, and was the first to throw in the towel in late 1970, soon thereafter returning to Australia :
We did a few concerts and some college gigs… I suppose it fell into the art music category – it was experimental, maybe even innovative – those qualities that normally correspond to little broader public interest, even with jazz aficionados. It would be fair to say that my return to Australia included elements of homesick, but the fact that Caparius was not getting even marginal audience or industry acceptance made me realise I had to move on. I was broke, with little prospect. Although I was confident I would eventually get other gigs, I desperately needed a cash injection. Initially I intended to make some money in Australia and return to the UK. As it turned out, I fell into a successful career as a composer and arranger, and only made it back to UK as a tourist over the years.
Martin was replaced by Gary Boyle, and for a while Caparius continued as a quartet, with Whitehead now playing exclusively electric bass. However it was felt something was missing. Related Stevens in the Melody Maker article :
Every time I mentioned a keyboard player, Neville would go on and on about Dave [MacRae], this amazing pianist he knew from New Zealand. By some strange chance, Dave came over with Buddy Rich and stayed here. As soon as he played with us, we knew that was it.
The reorganised group played its first gig at Hampstead’s Country Club on 31 January 1971. Other gigs followed, in particular one, on 26 March, on the same bill as Come To The Edge (a group led by percussionist Morris Pert, who would later invite Whitehead to join his next band, Sun Treader) and Gilberto Gil (!) at the Northern London Poly, but despite the considerable potential of the new line-up, Caparius ground to a halt not long after. Reflects Whitehead :
Dave was good, but… When a band starts off, the reason they join together is because they have some mental connection together, and through that they create. That’s what makes it all work. And when that’s broken, it may survive, but it won’t have the magic. That’s what happened when Peter left.
Stevens decided to try his luck in the USA, making two albums for Capitol Records including the above-mentioned Atmospheres. MacRae joined Nucleus, the Mike Gibbs Orchestra and Matching Mole. As for Howard and Whitehead, they both appeared on Elton Dean’s eponymous solo album, recorded in May 1971. Howard then replaced Robert Wyatt in Soft Machine, while Whitehead reunited with Wyatt alongside Terje Rypdal and Wolfgang Dauner in the house band for the Berlin Jazztage festival in November 1971.
These were promising beginnings, but for some reason Howard quickly faded from the scene in subsequent years. After his premature exit from Soft Machine in January 1972 (this part, of course, is covered in the book), he did stay in Elton Dean’s Just Us well into 1972, but even in such a free-leaning group, his radical drumming style was more than some could handle, as journalist Steve Lake recalls :
I went to Ronnie Scotts [in July 1972] to see Just Us play opposite Weather Report, and Elton & Co had been fired after the first day ! The audience couldn’t handle the savagery of Phil’s attack, particularly. Just Us had shown up on Day 2 and were not allowed to play.
It is unknown whether Howard’s departure from Just Us later that year, to be replaced by Louis Moholo, was a direct consequence of this setback, but there is no record of him playing anywhere with anyone until a brief surprise reappearance in the Sinclair/Coxhill Band three years later, which performed a largely improvised set at the Reims Jazz Festival. Along with co-leaders Richard Sinclair and Lol Coxhill, the band included Howard’s former Caparius bandmate Dave MacRae and ex-East Of Eden violinist/saxophonist Dave Arbus. Then it’s another long gap until, in 1979, on a reissue of Soft Machine’s Fifth, Howard was reported as “last heard of working on a North Sea oil rig” ! When, in the early 2000s, I asked Dean if he had any idea where Howard might be, he said he vaguely remembered him moving to New York City, but had completely lost contact with him. The mystery remains unsolved…
For many the defining work of both Hatfield and the North and, possibly, the Canterbury Scene as a whole, The Rotters’ Club was, like its predecessor, housed in a memorable cover designed by Pip Pyle’s friend Laurie Lewis, who went on to design quite a few striking album covers for a wide range of artists well outside the Canterbury Scene realm.
The basic premise of the cover was the existence of an actual organisation named “The Rotters’ Club“, which wasn’t quite as fictitious as it may have seemed – begun as an informal partnership between Pyle, Elton Dean, road manager Benji Lefèvre and guitarist Bernie Holland (of Jody Grind, Hummingbird and Jeff Beck’s “Diamond Dust” fame) as a banner for all sorts of extreme practical jokes, it eventually morphed into an occasional gigging band, most memorably for a Christmas gig in 1977 involving Dave Stewart, Gary Windo and assorted members of Patto.
To return to the front cover, the idea was that the Club would receive fan mail, which would be answered by a beautiful young secretary identified (thanks to her signature) as Ruby Crystal, who happened to resemble a famous Hollywood actress. The resemblance was not accidental, as Laurie Lewis explains :
The cover was based on a glossy photo of Joan Crawford. I’d been to see an exhibition of the great Hollywood photographers, and was lucky to shoot (with permission) many of the prints on display, using a black umbrella over the shoulder in order to avoid reflections in the glass. I found an attractive image of her lying on a beach signing autographs over her own portrait. That became the basis of the sleeve. Naturally she was signing her own name, so I substituted the name of a family friend, Ruby Crystal.
Of course, the name “Ruby Crystal” was an in-joke, since Matching Mole’s 1972 album Little Red Record (with a pre-Hatfield Phil Miller on guitar) had vocal contributions by someone using that alias. It was later revealed that she in real life was none other than film actress Julie Christie, a close friend of Robert Wyatt and Alfreda Benge (Ruby Crystal was Alfie’s nickname for Julie, and Gloria Gloom was Julie’s for Alfie).
Instead of photos of herself, Hatfield’s Crawford lookalike was shown signing a photo collage which was fully revealed on the back cover, and is described by Lewis as…
…another, more complex collage of images, using a close up of the actress’s hand signing an unholy line-up of suspects, against another dramatic sky, this time in monochrome with demons from the first album, as a vague nod to continuity, and a nymph on a winged horse seeing them off. At street level, a seaside outing of 1920s workers congregate with the band as children, looking every bit a bunch of Rotters. Someone observed : ‘Sergeant Pepper meets The Bash Street Kids‘ !
Also of interest is a photograph which was used for promotion at the time and later appeared in the CD reissue of the album, showing Hatfield in somewhat luxurious surroundings. Below is an alternate shot from the photo session :
There was an interesting background to this particular shoot, as Lewis remembers :
In 1973 I’d stayed in Manhattan and made a series of pictures of life on the street at night, returned to London and tried selling them to the Sunday Times Magazine. The editor was enthusiastic, but said he couldn’t use them, because “we already did America last year”… However, he was looking for a photographer to shoot a series on the new hotels being built on government grants in London around this time – not particularly exciting, but it was an assignment… Later, when Hatfield were looking for a location for The Rotters’ Club group portrait, we waltzed into one of those hotels, which provided a suitably incongruous backdrop. Not having time for permissions, we breezed in and quietly shot it.
When we discussed details of the sleeve, Pip Pyle insisted on his great memories of this and other photo shoots :
Laurie’s photo shoots were always a lot of fun, because he always had enough cheek to charge in somewhere like a 5-star hotel and just charm someone to let us move into the poshest lounge for a shoot, or the motorway picnic shot with the Hoover and stuff.
I also asked Pip about some cryptically worded credits on the back cover, like a thank you to “the staff at Hatco“. What exactly was Hatco ?
Just a joke name for the all the people, musos, roadies, record company, agency and umbrella for all the projects we did. It never was an official de facto business – similarly “Tedious Enterprises Inc”. However, Dave did get a Hatfield and the North bank account, of which I was co-signatory, for all group business. He even got us registered for V.A.T – a feat in itself since filling in the forms alone was as complicated as nuclear physics ! He certainly was the most organised accountant I’ve ever come across, his tour accounts were so detailed, neat and correct. Even a packet of chewing gum bought on expenses, had a separate entry. Almost an art form !
Another interesting reference was to various band roadies, including “Benj & Tony”. Of course “Benji” is none other than the above-mentioned Rotters’ Club founding member Benji Lefèvre, formerly a roadie with Delivery, Soft Machine, Nucleus and Matching Mole (who named “Brandy As In Benj” after him), who since 1973 had graduated to working for Led Zeppelin. He however still found time to reunite with his old mates. Remembered Pip :
Benj did quite a few gigs with Hatfield, and there are some legendary stories of the mayhem he inspired on the road that would fill several chapters in any book – but I think I’ll keep them for my book of ‘road stories’ which I plan to write when I can’t hold a drum stick anymore ! But he was on the Zeppelin payroll, so it was never a sure thing that he could make it. Besides, it wasn’t fair to Jack [Balchin] and Rick [Biddulph] who were stalwarts of the group, although I always did my best to get Benj along because he was so outrageous and funny. Tony Wiggins was a roadie who worked with the Softs, and he worked with us spasmodically from the start of the group. He was more of a “tour manager” than roadie, and became known for rushing around with a clipboard, bribing custom officials and so on.
Laurie Lewis would of course go on to design the cover of National Health‘s first album and contribute the band photograph for the back cover of the second, Of Queues And Cures, the background to which will be covered in a future blog entry.
I woke up this morning to the sad news that Gilli Smyth, founding member of Gong and space whisperer extraordinaire, had passed away last night. I had seen her countless times with Gong over the past twenty years after she’d rejoined the band, the last occasion in Paris in 2012 – when she and Daevid toured Europe with the line-up which, with the addition of Kavus Torabi, has since taken over the Gong banner – when it seemed obvious it would be her last tour with Gong.
While working on the book I exchanged e-mails with her and she replied at length to my questions on minute details of the Gong saga, evidently keen to set the record straight on facts and ideas that were of prime importance to her as an artist and person. One aspect we touched on that didn’t really find a space in the book was her history and early career prior to Gong, which even her book Politico-Historico-Spirito did not really address. So that was my first question, to which she replied :
My early professional history is quite brief. I did three degrees at London University, then went to France and met Daevid, more or less as I was just out of college. I had always done poetry and acting, and when in a couple of roles I brought the audience to a “pin drop”, I knew early on that was to be my destiny.
I told her I had read that while a student she had edited a university magazine that caused controversy to the point of articles being written about it in mainstream newspapers. I asked if she could elaborate on her early “artistic” and.or militant activities…
I was always intensely “political” and in fact was expelled from a Catholic convent at the age of twelve for refusing to say I was – as a woman – an original sinner and for questioning their beliefs. As editor of Kings News – college newspaper of Kings, London University – I did publish political/feminist stuff which in the early Sixties was “shocking”. There was still the hangover from Simone de Beauvoir being imprisioned for “perverting public morals” with her book The Second Sex. Two horrible tabloid neewspapers, Daily Mirror and the Daily Express, ran articles of the same kind on me, that the government should not waste money – I was on a grant – sending slags like me to college, assuming I was living a wild life, which I wasn’t. These newspapers were sold everywhere and it was one of the worst times in my life, seeing them sold on every newsagent and having no right of reply. People forget how tough it was for us then… The reaction of the dean of women students at college was to call me in for a talking to and suggest I cut my long hair off “because it gave people the wrong impression”. No concept that these were serious political ideas of women.
How, then, did she end up living in Paris, where she eventually met Daevid ?
In fact instead of the wild life, I was extricating myself from an unfortunate student marriage I made, and ran to Paris to avoid legal custody problems. The judge’s attitude at the time was that I must be unstable and immoral to want to leave a firm marriage with a guy with a good job. I hid in Paris with my baby, sometimes homeless, bought an old condemned boat from a gipsy, José, for $20, begged, etc., until I got a job at L’Institut Britannique, affiliated to the Sorbonne. A really contradictory time it was, but I learned to survive on hardly any money – very useful for a life with Gong ! Paris was a haven of tolerance compared to the uptight English, as the black musicians from the U.S. also found.
In the early days of Soft Machine (and later with Daevid’s Banana Moon band), she was only marginally involved and only made sporadic appearances. Where was she at in her own artistic life ?
I was “entourage” in so far as I was not a musical member of the Soft Machine band. It was a different style of music to what I was actually engaged in. So at that time I was mainly a writer. I produced a couple of books : Nightrogen Dreams, Outposts, Mind Book… Lots of single poems in magazines, newspaper articles etc. I did poetry performances, and two or three times with Soft Machine – Roundhouse, a boxing ring in East London, the name of which name I forget [Deptford], etc. I was going to do something with Soft Machine on the famous occasion at the Palais des Sports that turned into a riot [January 1971].
I was also curious to know more about her family background, having seen her described as a “Welsh poetess”.
My passports are English and Australian, but my family is in fact deeply Welsh… We are Morgans and the Morgan family goes way back to ancient times !
My sincere condolences to Gilli’s children, relatives and friends at this sad time. May they be comforted in the knowledge that she lived her life to the full and left an indelible mark on the lives of many who were touched by her art.
Next in our series of classic Canterbury scene covers is the magnificent debut album by National Health. As with both Hatfield and the North covers, once again Laurie Lewis was entrusted with shooting the photos for both the front and back cover.
The album had been recorded in April 1977, shortly about Alan Gowen and Amanda Parsons had left the band, with both agreeing to stay on for the duration of the sessions. National Health however were still without a record deal at this point, and by the time the deal with Charly Records was finally signed the band was down to four members, and only they appeared on the photos, which were taken in December 1977.
The front cover was a rather obvious reference to the band’s name. Dave Stewart in those days wore cheap glasses provided by the British NHS so they bore the mention “National Health”, and the band was named after them.
The cover photo showed the band visiting an unidentified patient. A review suggested – not entirely ironically – that, with such talented musicians taking so long to secure a record deal, said patient was probably the British music industry !
There is a darker undercurrent to the photograph as it was taken (on December 6th) at St. Bartholomew’s hospital in London, which happened to be the same hospital where Alan Gowen would die some three and a half years later.
No such thing was on Pip’s mind however when I asked him to remember the photo shoot.
Laurie set the shot up, he managed to blag some sister at a hospital to let us come into the ward for a shoot. No mean feat when you think about it… ‘Excuse me, do you think I could just bring in this rock’n’roll group and their children into your ward of very ill people and do a photo session for their album ?’ Laurie always had the gift of the gab for anything like that !
Who is supposed to be the patient in the bed ?
Why all the ugly gifts ?
Well, you always bring gifts to hospital, so we bought all this junk instead of grapes and magazines. I wanted to take this much further, with like hoovers, blow-up dollies, golf clubs etc. But perhaps we would have been shown the door before we even got through it !
Why is Dave the doctor ?
Well, he looked like one ! He rolled up with a stethoscope.
Who is the guy with the nurse ?
Pretty sure that was Laurie Lewis’ dad.
And the nurse ?
I think she was a real nurse in the ward. She was working…
Laurie’s dad is talking to a couple…
The lady with the blurred face was probably just a visitor. We all had to keep quite still because Laurie always used a slow lens speed if possible.
The boy sitting behind you looks familiar…
It’s Sam, and I think maybe Alice is concealed behind him.
What about the guy in the red jacket ?
I don’t know, maybe a friend of Laurie’s ?
It appears what became the front cover was initially intended as the back cover, and for the front, the band toyed with the (rather silly) idea of using the picture of an elf (a phonetic play on “National Elf” !). Thankfully they changed their minds, decided the hospital shot would be the front cover, and another shoot was set up, this time at Ronnie Scott’s jazz club, on December 21st.
Remembered Pip :
The “joke” as such, was instead of having the band shot on stage it would be role reversals and we’d be the audience. And the nurses – the National Health ! – would be on stage… Obviously Ronnie’s was a convenient place to shoot in the daytime when no-one was playing. Laurie and I knew Ronnie Scott a bit so we just asked him if we could use it.
Ronnie Scott himself sat at the piano, and the club’s doorman played the drummer. The bass-playing nurse was not an actual nurse this time, but Soose, Dave Stewart’s girlfriend who did the lights for the band on tour.
Pip Pyle, Dave Stewart and Neil Murray are seen sitting at a table applauding and cheering, but the fourth figure with his back to the camera whom one would assume to be Phil Miller isn’t actually him – Phil never showed up so his “part” was played by someone else with long hair, possibly a lady. Coincidentally, a year later a similar situation arose for the Soft Heap cover, when Elton Dean turned up late and a random passer-by was asked to stand in for him, conveniently wearing a hoodied coat !
Rick Chafen, who later organised National Health’s US tour in 1979, had a funny anecdote about the t-shirt Neil Murray is seen wearing on the front cover :
I had a friend who ran a record store when the National Health album finally came out, and he made a shirt pretty much like the one Neil is wearing. I met Neil after [National Health and Steve Hillage’s] Lyceum show, and mentioned that I had a friend who’d made a shirt just like his. “I doubt it,” he replied. “I’m wearing it backwards for the photograph !”
J’étais le 26 juin l’invité de l’émission Rockoscopie animée par David Taugis sur Judaïques FM, qui avait déjà consacré son émission à mes livres sur King Crimson et le Rock Progressif. Cette fois, le thème était évidemment L’Ecole de Canterbury, avec quelques extraits musicaux assez brefs, histoire de donner priorité à la discussion. (Dans la rubrique “réécouter les dernières émissions”, choisir celle du 26 juin.)