Don't you point that thing at me #7 : Sam Frank Wood

Catch that moment... sometimes under exacting circumstances

St Vincent at Birmingham Institute  

There's a pic on facebook about how crazy musicians are to put their five grand instruments into a car worth maybe five hundred, and drive a hundred miles for a fifty quid gig. They're not alone - decent cameras don't come cheap, and yet we often see two or three snappers at gigs, all with seriously costly kit, looking to capture something worthwhile - which they might not even get paid for. At least I can bash this stuff out on a three hundred quid laptop, or do my radio stuff on kit which hardly cost me anything. But musos and snappers? Mostly, they fork out a lot. But they clearly love it all, the same way all the people in a local scene do.

Hold on to those band snaps! In 50 years you could be sitting on a gold mine.

Don't you point that thing at me, pal... Number 6: Jim Simpson

You can cover an awful lot of ground in the music biz if you stick at it. Now probably best known for running Birmingham International Jazz Festival, as a young sixties groover Jim Simpson was eking out a living as a semi-pro trumpet player, a band manager (Locomotive, Black Sabbath, and others)... and, significantly, as a part time snapper, selling photos wherever he could.

All this was long before the advent of digital. Jim worked with a lovely professional twin-lens reflex camera, very similar to the one here. I had a very cheap version of Jim's pro kit back in the day, and I absolutely loved it. Twin lens machines used conventional film, in the now very rare format: 120. This usually means square negatives, 56 millimetres along each edge: vastly larger that the smaller and faster 35 millimetre format. 

The downside? A larger, heavier, much more unwieldy camera, into which you normally squinted downwards, rather than at the subject, to compose and focus. More often that not, you had to work with a degree of formality. These weren't machines that let you grab images on the fly. And as we've already seen with Pogus Caesar, you could only fire off 12 shots before you had to change the film.So you took more care over your precious limited set of images. The upside was super image quality, which then meant terrific enlargements.

Jim shot a lot of stuff, half a century back. Some of his best images are now on show at Havill and Travis, a new gallery in Harborne, South Birmingham. The gallery is a joint venture between Gerv Havill of Moseley Folk fame, and Dave Travis, also a photographer and onetime promoter. 

At the preview, Jim was happily running though old memories.

I had no idea until I knew of the exhibition that you ware also a pro photographer. 

Yes it kept me alive. I went seriously into it at a rather stupid point when I should have been paying more attention to Black Sabbath, who I was managing then. 

You mean you didn't take any shots of the band in their extreme youth? 

Only about six shots in all the years I was with them. A bit of an omission. 

Here's the Move in 1965... fresh-faced boys.

Trevor Burton, Roy Wood, Bev Bevan, Carl Wayne and Ace Kefford. In a field. In the cold. 

I thought Roy Wood's fringe was a hat, actually. A hat made of hair. That was the first publicity session they had. It was very early in the morning, and it was very cold. They're all wearing college scarves. I don't think they went anywhere near a college. Bev (Bevan)used to drive past a college on his way to work. 

Let's move on to the Moodies...

Ah. That was at the Carlton Club in Erdington. It eventually became Mother's, of course. 

Named after the brewery, weren't they? The Mitchells and Butler 5, or the M&B 5, I understand.

Yes. 

This really was the band that became the Moody Blues. This really was the club that became Mothers. 

I was in London then, and the first thing I heard from them was their cover single of Bessie Banks' Go Now...

Well, they were an R&B outfit. This line-up, they all came from major bands in Brum at the time, except for the drummer, who managed them. The guys who owned the Carlton Club got behind them, so they could be put before the Friday night crowds there. They were a major local draw, very early on. The sad thing is that the bass player in the picture, Clint Warwick – that was a stage name – after a couple of years, he thought 'I don't Like This', and he left the band, went back home to Aston and became a carpenter.

So here's a piece of history... the young Spencer Davis Group looking very chipper and cheerful, on the central divider of Smallbrook Queensway.

And the magazine they're holding, Midlands Beat. I used to take photographs for it. And write a news column, for twelve pounds a month. Look at the cars – very vintage. And look how few of them there are in the picture. 

Steve and Muff Winwood, Pete York and Spencer Davis. Just down the road from their Golden Eagle residency

You sat them in the middle of Smallbrook Queensway for a photoshoot?

We weren't exactly taking a risk, were we? Look at the traffic - it was a bit different. Steve (Winwood) was sixteen, I think.

So that's the local boys. Of the rest – shots of Mick Jagger, Nina Simone, Little Richard – what are you proudest of?

Howling Wolf. 

He was a very interesting man. On stage, he could rock a room into bad health without any effort, At the same time, he scared audiences. He was a terrifying presence. Six foot four, 350 pounds. But talk to him, and he was so gentle and mild. He told me a lot about himself and his life. He told me he couldn't read and write until his forties. The he went back to school and college. He was also very proud to tell me that when he first went to Chicago, he was recording – I think – for Sam Phillips in Memphis. Chess called him and he went up, but as he said, all the old blues guys went up to Chicago with the insides of their pockets hanging out. He went up in his own car, with 4000 bucks. In those days, a massive sum. 

Jim, these shots from your twin lens reflex have come up beautifully. Have you had to do any kind of retouching work?

Very little. We tried in most cases to print from the negative. There's a couple we've had to adjust slightly. No much burning in or dodging. I'm digitised now, and I don't really like it. I love the flexibility - 20 or 25 shots without even thinking about it. In those days, with 12 shots a roll, and the fuss of changing the rolls over, you made sure each negative counted. 

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Don't you point that thing at me, pal #5: Wayne Fox

“At the end of a performance, there's probably ten or fifteen seconds, the golden time – that's the best time for a photographer to get their shot in.”

Photo by Bianca Barrett  

A posse of snappers? A clutch of smudges? 

Moseley Folk, Friday afternoon. Wayne Fox comes barrelling down the hill, loaded down with kit, firing off shots of me and Richard Shakespeare having a natter. Between the three of us, there must have been close on a five figure sum's worth of Canon camera goodness. Me, I was packing a three year old Ixus - probably worth 40 quid tops. I know my place.

We have a rich crop of snapper talent in the region. Wayne's been shooting with the best of them for some years now. Running though the costs music snappers have to fork out, and the competition they face, I'm amazed. 

This post isn't about music; it's about musicians and the people who take an interest in them, visually and personally. Snappers deploy different skills, but the challenges and the risks are the same. 

Wayne Fox: I didn't really start intentionally. I was indirectly connected with the music industry, and I'd shot a few sessions, round about 2007 I think. People kept saying nice things, so I made the decision to step up a level. I decided to save up over a year, to see if I could afford a (decent) camera. 

Decent kit is, still, hellishly expensive. You knew exactly what camera, what model...? 

I went for Canon. My father had a range of brands – some of those weird eastern European makes. They smelled great!

I had a Halina...

Yes, that's the general area! But I went for Canon. Lots of buttons! But really, it was about being around music. And a lot of local promoters, like Carlo Solazzo, were very helpful in letting me get started. 

  Free School, 2012

What about your first shoot?

The first one that I felt I had enough skills, that I was pleased with, was the LaRoux gig at the Rainbow warehouse. She was on a crest of a wave at the time. It was quite dark, and I think I went home with about 400 photographs. Loved every minute of it. And obviously I've adjusted the shots since then. 

LaRoux - Wayne's most-copied from Flickr

That's a bit like collecting too much interview audio. You've got to think how much edit time you're letting yourself in for.

I've cut down a lot. Each shot takes me a lot of time, when I get it home and look at it with image editing software.

That's digital for you. And a world away from what Pogus Caesar does with his old-school film cameras. Festivals generally have a very relaxed vibe; lots of room for you guys. Surely it;s not always that way?

No. Etiquette is almost unspoken, though. You don't throw yourself about if you're in the pit; somebody will have word with you if you do. I try and keep as low as I can, in the pit, and that gives me a certain style. Others stand bolt upright. There are things you just learn. Sometimes, people are kind enough to tell you. And in very crowded situations, you don't obstruct the paying customers if at all possible. 

Violet at the Flapper, 2011

Wayne explains: 

This poor guy in Violet had an accident on-stage at The Flapper and Firkin, when his guitarist smashed his guitar neck into the guys face. Ouch!


What do you try to capture? Emotions? A startling composition?

When I started, because I wasn't producing for any form of editorial, it was definitely, definitely from the artistic point of view. I'd make sure there was space, just to make you wonder when you looked at the photograph. Now, I'm filling the frame a bit more. But I like to put the artist in a sea of nothingness. Those are the ones that get talked about. 

First sale?

Ninety percent of the things I've sold have been to parents of the acts! The very first one was to a very nice lady who wanted a photo of her son playing the guitar. She'd bought the guitar – a beautiful blue guitar, it came out very nicely, perfectly lit and exposed, I was lucky – she didn't really care that her son was in the photograph. She really cared about the guitar!

Toy Hearts, 2011  

You do something because you love it, and you're really passionate about it. It's the same as with musicians. Then at some point the possibility of making some money arises. How do you transition to that?

It's difficult. I don't really get involved with sales. It's a time-honoured thing: anybody who's creative struggles with seeing that there's something you can monetise. And it's a reflection of your soul, at the end of the day. You don't rally want to charge for it, but – you have to, you have to. I didn't mean to spend so much money on equipment, but I have. I'd love to give away everything that I've done, but it's not going to be possible.

Crystal Castles, 2011   

The web has produced an economy where people are expected to give everything away for free.

I contribute a lot to a site called Gig Junkies. They used to be very West Midlands-oriented, now they're National. Have done for years. And that's for free. 

But following the music analogy, does the exposure that you get lead to commissions and other paid work?

I guess it does. A lot of people get in touch with me and name-check Gig Junkies.

Is it easy to name a price?

No! Not at all. Trying to strike the balance is really tricky. 

The web puts a downward price pressure on so many freelances and creative people; there's no regulation and there's always someone who'll work cheaper. 

At least I have a massive back catalogue of material now! But yes, in the photography community, you do notice people wandering into gigs, gigs with a very restrictive policy, that there a people with iPhones in the pit. It doesn't really bother me, but if a professional has been excluded – or one of his mates – and there's someone with an iPhone in the pit, it can get awkward. 

Tip and tricks?

At the end of a performance, there's probably ten or fifteen seconds, the golden time – that's the best time for a photographer to get their shot in. Often, they've given of themselves, they're spent. Sometimes they're quite vulnerable, and surprised by the response they get. And that's difficult for me; I love being where I am. It's quite a privilege. I've probably put my camera down, and I'm applauding too!

Boat to Row   

Favourite bands?

I like local bands, who I know: Boat To Row (shown at left), Goodnight Lenin...

Yes. Young, photogenic, very good looking, and talented. I hate them all. But good looking - or interesting looking - must really help from the snapper's point of view.

It does. I really like Free School and Victories at Sea – lovely looking guys, and they generate an amazing sound. I took in their first gig, and they sounded good then. But supporting the Editors – it was like someone had flicked a hundred switches. 

Links
Wayne's flickr stream
Wayne Fox Photography
Gig Junkies

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Don't you point that thing at me, pal #4: Steve Gerrard @ Brumlive

It's not all about spraying and praying... there's detail, there's action, there's a story 

I don't write gig reviews. There are excellent West Midlands sites that do; you'll find links to several down the right of this page.

One of these sites is Brum Live, run by Steve Gerrard the long-established music photographer. Brum Live exists partly to be a platform for new photographers and writers. If that interests you, there's an email address at the bottom of this post.

Steve is a details guy. Just look at this shot. He's done tons of big names, lots of local guys, and he still prefers smaller gigs. It's all about the gig, the musicians, the crowd, the interaction... the action. All shots are reproduced here by kind permission.