Ricky Cool is a music veteran... who adores vintage music. He's a walking encyclopedia of US roots music, and he's no slouch about the UK music scene over the past 50 years. In this episode, l get schooled about harmonica playing, and we get a fascinating look at what it meant to be in bands struggling to get ahead through the 70s, 80s, 90s, and on into this century. Things are - different - now.
The latest incarnation of Ricky's band, Ricky Cool and The In Crowd, is a very slick and entertaining operation, which harks back over 50 years to the mid-60s days of ska and organ groove. Be warned: there's one teeny little bit of louche behaviour described. A swear word. But it's not sweary.
The Lives in Music series celebrates people who have spent a lifetime in music. They may be famous; they may be people who have spent their lives working in the background for the love of it. But they all have stories. The intro and outro music in this series comes from the great bass player Mike Hatton, who you can hear interviewed in series 1, here. 'Everything Changes' is included in his excellent 2019 album 'Bassic Salvation'. Follow the album link for more :-)
Stream Ricky's podcast here
Published in Series 2 (series 1 episodes listed here)
If you subscribeto the podcast on any podcast host, you'll get each new release automatically a few hours before the official release. If you subscribe to the Radio To Go/Lives in Music mailing list below, you'll get email updates each time a blog post or podcast episode is published.
They thought it was all over. It isn't, now. A Birmingham Reggae institution steps it up
Robin Giorno is persistent. He's been cooking up reggae grooves in Brum for nearly twenty years, with his studio and the Friendly
Fire collective. For well over a decade, Monday
nights have played host to a freebie event mostly at the Bull's Head in
Moseley, Birmingham: Jam Jah Mondays.
The Bulls Head has new
owners now. Its days of frenzied music craziness are over. The place has great history –
Sam Redmore and the Leftfoot crew ran nights there; Ben Calvert's
Bohemian Jukebox, Brum Notes' live nights and many
more have all left their mark. It was a small room, with iffy
sightlines but great breakout areas.
So where have they all gone? Well, Sam's breaking through nationally, and not before time. And Ben's taken his Jukebox to the Hare and Hounds every other month. Now, JamJah Sound, after a short
but worrying pause, are stepping it up fifty yardsdown the road, with a different
landlord – now it's Keith, at the Dark Horse.
Two cultures from ten thousand miles apart meet up in Birmingham, which just happens to be EXACTLY midway between. That's grounds for celebration.
Birmingham sits halfway between the centres of two of its most compelling and now deeply engrained cultures. Go five thousand miles one way, and you fetch up in the Caribbean. Go the same distance the other way? You're in Pakistan. Since the Second World War, cultures from both regions and elsewhere have been bumping up against each other, in inner city Birmingham suburbs... for seventy years. And now, beats and grooves are coming together, in a very deliberate, conscious way. This weekend Birmingham sees a Rugby World Cup games, thousands exploring a revamped New Street station and its shopping mall, and Birmingham Weekender, this year's Artsfest replacement. Add in relentless roadworks, and the city will be... challenging. But find your way to Symphony Hall on Sunday 27th, and you're in for a free but very valuable treat: Dub Qalandar. It's the headline show for all of the weekend. Conscious Dub grooves, and sacred Sufi songs coming together in Birmingham. Well, it's what we do. Or, rather, it's what Mukhtar Dar and Simon Duggal do.
Two months back, I compiled a local YouTube chart. It's a labour of love, and I can miss things. Happily, I'm usually swiftly corrected. S-Endz duly pointed out that his band, Swami, had scored very decent views for their new video. So I fixed things, bouncing the bottom entry (sorry, lads) to present a revised 50. And started thinking about Swami. There's lots of Asian bands in the West Midlands. But normally they aim squarely at Asian markets; Swami are different. Malkit Singh may sell millions worldwide to Bhangra fans, but Swami aren't cut from that cloth, not remotely. For a start, they're cross-cultural, in the grand Birmingham tradition. The website is slick and impressive. A swift introduction by Sharnita Athwal at Shaanti, and I'm sitting with Simon and Diamond Duggal, joined later by S-Endz. Swami has been Simon and Diamond's project, since 1999.
The day after this
blog post is published, a clutch of musicians from across Birmingham will
meet up for five days of intensive creation and experimentation, culminating in
an evening of live music on Saturday 28th September, at St Annes Church, Park Hill in Moseley, Birmingham. This is Culture Shock, now in its second year. It’s a free event, supported by a range of
institutions, and powered by the adventurous collaborative spirit of the
participants - a leap of faith in many ways.
Keyboardist Pete Nickless holds this
project together, working from a multi-purpose music studio at the seriously industrial top end of
Digbeth, Birmingham.
It bristles with instruments, including – oh joy – a Hammond organ
complete with Leslie cabinet. And Pete's boundless enthusiasm. It's one hell of a brave project; yet another reason for us to have such fierce pride in our musicians.
Lots of questions to ask about UB40. Where are they after years of turmoil? What's the real story? Brian Travers gets this a lot. He gives some of the answers.
Brian Travers bearing up under the strain
Seems like the only time the papers write up UB40 these days is to report bad news. They’ve had their fair share: bankruptcies, Ali leaving with harsh words about their financial management, the old Dep studios on Fazeley Street now a car park, and dark stories aplenty circulating round town. Recently, The Sun newspaper had a lovely time painting Brian Travers as so hard up that he’s had to play with UB40 cover bands. That little ploy backfired, leading to favourable coverage on 5 Live and WM, and even scoring a mention on Radio 4’s flagship Today programme. Beautifully timed, though. Next month sees the release of Getting Over The Storm, UB40’s new album, their first in years. If you thought the title might refer to the band’s troubles, you could be right. And the content? Well, it’s Country. I think it works.
A chat with Simmer Down co-ordinator / stage manager and all round go-to person Clare Edwards.
On Sunday 14th July, two weeks from today, the fourth Simmer Down party takes place in HandsworthPark, Birmingham. It’s a free festival, and it runs
from morning to mid-evening. The event is preented by the Drum Arts Centre, directed by Mukhtar
Dar and is co-ordinated and stage-managed by the able and
unflappable Clare Edwards. Every town needs a Clare Edwards. She swims in shark-infested musicbiz
waters, negotiates her way through stifling and complacent bureaucracy, charms officialdom, all this spanning a ridiculously wide musical range of
activities, while retaining the respect and affection of her peers. Oh, and
did I mention the choirs she sings in and/or manages? Or the major London Classical music activities? Maybe another time...
Pauline Black talks racism, sexism, 2-Tone, Ska and Reggae, re-forming your band, keeping it punchy, and not wallowing in black and white nostalgia.
I’m not absolutely sure, but I'm probably the first (legal) radio DJ to put The Selecteron air. We used to do sessions at the old BRMB Radio, recording up and
coming West Midlands bands just as they came
to the boil. This included UB40 and the Specials, pretty much all in quick succession, in 1979 . It worked a treat: the station scored great listening figures and got
to look - very unusually for the old BRMB - hip and cutting edge. And the bands got exposure and MU scale cash. Everyone was happy. It worked. Just saying...
So, back in the day, Pauline
Black came in for an interview to tie in with the session. Now, Pauline Black’s on the
phone ahead of a string of midlands dates - you'll find them at the bottom of this post. 34 years on, The Selecteris touring again, and a stroll down 2-Tone lane it ain't. Two new albums, new members to go with founders Gaps Hendrickson and Black, a richer mix - and the same fierce attitude.
This post is about two bands with the same core personnel. They’re absolute killer musicians, by the way. On the one hand they operate as Del Camino, who bang out top notch Salsa; and on the other, they’re reggaemeisters 1EYE. And they’ve got an interesting take on where reggae is going.
1EYE. Excellent moody attitude at the Custard Factory car park, guys
There are those who hold that Reggae is done and dusted. That it was all over and done with by the end of the 80s. But they’re quite wrong. Before we go any further, it’s worth pointing out that Reggae is now global. It's not just made in Jamaica. And Birmingham is, more than ever, a powerhouse for reggae, with a string of fine third and fourth generation bands flying the flag. For example, Xova, who are going from strength to strength. Or the fluid and infinite permutations of Robin Giorno’s Friendly Fire Band. Or brilliant ska groovers such as 360 and Tempting Rosie. And the fine work coming out of Elephant House. There are others too. Now there’s a brand new video from 1EYE, after the jump, which is absolutely delicious… You owe it to yourself to watch.
It's taken two or more generations, but British music is now flowing all ways between communities.
Last month, tickets for the Rolling Stones’ 50th anniversary gigs sold out in record time; you can still get em for upwards of £400 on Seatwave. Hey, bargain! But just head over to Spotify and dig into those 50 year-old Stones’ R and B covers. Time is NOT on their side. 'Little Red Rooster'? Please - let me suggest Howling Wolf. Mick’n’Keef had a sincere go at Chicago blues back in the day, but looking back today, it all sounds a bit wonky and self-conscious. That wasn’t their fault – they certainly weren’t in control in the studio, and for all the good intentions, it was a big jump, geographically and culturally, from 60s Swinging London... to Chicago or Mississippi. But when those 60s English musos dabbled with stuff from way beyond their culture, they really did break new ground. Quite understandably, they didn’t hit the spot to start with. But only six years later, Zeppelin showed up with technique and showbiz chops that left Mick and co in the dust; the ball was rolling. After that, imperfectly, but slowly and surely, things opened up. Which - some time later - brings us to musicians like Khaliq. Nowadays it’s not a one-way flow, the way it was two generations back. In fact, for the latest generation, some of whom I admire enormously, identity and ethnicity really doesn’t matter; it’s simply not relevant. And that’s a fine thing. Khaliq - the name comes from their lead singer and main writer - have just released an album, recorded at Magic Garden. Now, these boys are not spring chickens; they’ve got over thirty years’ listening shining out of their music. I wondered where Khaliq started off….
“When I was a kid? Led Zeppelin. My brother got me the Stairway to Heaven t-shirt. And he played me the album. I’d never heard anything like it. But I listened to everything. Sabbath… massively into Stevie Wonder… Van Morrison. Then, when I heard Bob Dylan, I didn’t listen to Zeppelin for about six months … Springsteen, Weller, Tom Petty. Genres didn’t matter. If it did something to me, that’s how I judged it.
“So when I started writing songs as a kid, I used to think the only songs I can ever put out have got to do the same thing to others as these songs have done to me.
How can you judge your own songs? That’s the hardest thing in the world…
“Not for me. I’ve got a comparison in my head. You know when you go into a studio, and you want to… reference it…to see if it’s got it going on? I’ve got that mad reference in my head. I wish I could get rid of it sometimes.
From listening to what I did, it set a certain standard, a certain level. And I can tell straight away if it’s ‘up’ there. And then we play, it and work it with the band, and see how people react… How do the songs come?
"Whole songs come. The verse, the second verse, the chorus, the last verse, the story from start to finish. It all rhymes, it all makes sense, and it comes out in five minutes. But some of them, I’ll get the first verse at 13, and the second when I’m 27. It just happens.
"First band was ‘As We Are’ – heavily into U2. When I first started I started on an acoustic guitar. My brother helped a lot. He was going to gigs; no other Asian lads were going anywhere, but my brother was allowed to go because he had three A levels and eleven O levels. He was top of the school, so the community couldn’t say anything. The community couldn’t slag him off and say he was wasting time with his hair and that. He was like the impeccable Asian kid, but with hair out there, and singing Phil Lynott songs!
Same old, same old… sounds a lot like my grandparents leaning on my dad to take a respectable career - they were German Jews. So how much pressure did you get from Mum and Dad?
“At first, people weren’t happy. I was supposed to be an accountant or a lawyer. My dad thought it was going to be a phase. After a bit they realised this was everything for me. But there were conflicts. Am I English or am I Asian? Do I go to the mosque, or do I chill out with my mates and have a quick beer? Am I even supposed to have a beer? All this mad stuff going on. But the guitar was the best thing – you can sit in your room on your own, and once you’ve hit the tune – not even a tune a couple of notes… that was it That feeling, it made me like I’ve just done something. And then the words started coming out.
“We’re releasing the album (Astral Projections) on iTunes and all the other online places. But we’re doing a big local release, and a big campaign in March. We’re supporting Reverend and the Makers, maybe a support slot with Simon and Oscar from Ocean Colour Scene; I’m writing with Steve Craddock for an acoustic album. He called me a week ago, before flying out to tour with Paul Weller. I’m a massive fan… and he took the album with him to give to Weller. And we’re doing a living-room tour. …
Khaliq - and the guys in the band are great. Nice guys with passion and interesting perspectives to explore. We could have talked for hours. But as I touched on at the start, what is striking about Khaliq’s situation was how, in two generations, the flow of ideas, and our ability to knowledgeably and respectfully embrace new musics across multiple cultures, and in many cases interpret and re-interpret it with skill and passion, has so completely changed. A while back, I did a documentary - Handsworth Evolution - on the post-war generations of Caribbean musicians who came to the UK and saw their music flow into the creative pool. There’s another gig coming up soon that highlights this very clearly, when two fine sets of musicians, already featured on this blog – The Beat and Xova, second and third generations respectively - play Birmingham Town Hall on December 15th. Hey, a lot cheaper that the Stones, and it's my guess there'll be a lot more heart to the gig as well. It was relatively easy to trace the musical generations for my Handsworth documentary, and slightly harder to try to pinpoint the musical and creative flows out from and back into Asian musicians. I'm pretty sure that this will become clearer in time.
Why does a double MOBO winner, known and respected the world over, come back to work on a day of music activities in a grotty underpass in an unpreposessing part of town, hauling some extremely major names in to play… five years in a row?
The Flyover Show is the most unlikely success story. Birmingham offers several festivals where the music and culture centres around reggae and the music that has grown from reggae – Reggae City, Simmer Down… and The Flyover Show. All of them are open, welcoming and friendly; none of them get the press coverage they deserve; all of them pull typically mixed Birmingham reggae crowds. But The Flyover Show has been going the longest. It’s even travelled abroad to South Africa, with a Flyover Show held this year in Sowetoitself.
Soweto Kinch lives in Hockley, Birmingham. Feet squarely on the ground, informed, self-aware, articulate, open and positive, he sees The Flyover Show’s location in Hockley as an essential part of the whole exercise. And to achieve that end, he gives of himself to an extraordinary degree.
“We get so much bad press. The only time these areas get spoken about is as ‘high centres of unemployment, race riots, knife crime, gun crime… I really want to do a re-branding exercise, not just for the outside world, but for ourselves.”
Last year, at The 2011 Flyover Show, I watched him work HARD, in the middle of the afternoon, operating without a PA, while the generator was repaired. He was compere, cheerleader and animateur, bigging up, encouraging, cajoling and celebrating, right in the thick of it down among the crowd. Then when the stage PA crackled into life, just in time for some of the name acts, he was up, jamming, supporting, gliding though music styles with grace and ease. It was deeply impressive stuff.
This isn’t your regular music get together. It belongs to, and is explicitly part of, Hockley. So it’s a bit more of a community fete, only with added megastars. This year, Maxi Priest, Janet Kay, Julian Joseph, joining with Basil Gabbidon, Soweto himself, Lady Leshurr, Dec14Life, RTKaland more.
There’s, of course, a clear Jamaican flavour to The Flyover Show this year. Monday 6th August marked the 50th anniversary of Jamaican independence, and celebrations are taking place across the country. Given that the West Midlands has the second highest concentration of UK Jamaicans, and that Hockley sits squarely between Aston, Lozells and Handsworth, that’s a further reason to continue to develop and promote the show in its very specific location.
And given the passing of time, it’s now a generational thing. A couple of years ago, I put together an affectionate if slightly rose-tinted radio documentary, Handsworth Evolution, in which I talked with at the generations of Jamaican and Jamaican-inspired musicians who have lived and worked in Birmingham since the end of the war. Taking the late Andy Hamilton as the first generation, Steel Pulse, Ruby Turner and UB40 as the second generation, that places Soweto as part of the 3rd generation. And it’s clear he wants to encourage that same pride and creativity shown by the first three generations in the fourth generation. But of course it’s a long way from Calypso, Rock Steady, Blue Beat and Ska, to the present day, and as always happens, a whole host of other music influences and directions have added to the mix.
A People With No Past From Soweto Kinch's 2011 New Emancipation album So of course things have changed and developed. But do you feel that over the past nearly seventy years, that there has been a dilution in Jamaican music and culture?
“No, I wouldn’t describe it as dilution at all. It’s an evolution. Identity and culture are not static concepts. We’re all dealing with what globalisation means to us; all reassessing what ideas like ‘Britishness’ are like – are they redundant as terms when we’ve got such a heterogeneous population? For me, consistently, Jamaica has provided more than just a place to associate with… but a kind of attitude that’s embodied in the people. As Usain Bolt says (as he beats his chest crossing the finishing line), we’re a small island with a big heart.”
“There are so many islands across the West Indies, but for some reason, Jamaica seems to shout loudest above the rest. That may be criticised by the other islands, but it’s something to be commended in this country, when we’ve had to deal with so much virulent racism. That fighting spirit has left an indelible mark on this country, and certainly on me.”
OK, evolution it is. But where does, say Wordsworth MC– he’s from Brooklyn – place himself?
“It would be impossible for Wordsworth to do what he does with the influence of Jamaica and Jamaican culture. As a Brooklyner, as that kind of MC – it’s completely flavoured with West Indian inflections and Sound system culture. As an MC, growing up in New York, you have to be aware of that tradition. That morphs, wherever you go in the world.”
Pogus Caesar's shot of Soweto Kinch, 2010
“That’s a great thing – it gets you thinking about the tendrils of Jamaican culture. Not just some jerk chicken on the beach. Escaping some of those stereotypes, you realise it’s had a far more profound influence on the way we all think, the way we all approach music now. So it’s a great time for us to consider how that culture has changed, how is it different from, you know, after the Empire Windrush to now.”
Given that huge span of culture and interactions, how easy is it to put a bill together?
“It’s great having these themes to tie things down to. To be able to have jazz alongside hip-hop, alongside spoken word, alongside dance (there’s a specially commissioned dance from Birmingham Royal Ballet), alongside an out and out reggae artist… there is a common thread tying them all together.”
You’re growing all the time. Will you come back to Hockley Flyover next year? There’s only so much space there…
“Yeah. Absolutely. I would love to. I think what’s really symbolic and important about this show is that it has a grass-roots identity. The work and the stories from that community that never get celebrated, that never really earn the same respect – it’s always ‘community arts’, the poor cousin of high art – that work still needs to go on. And if it just gets too big, we’ll build a bigger flyover!”
Links: The Flyover Show site The Flyover Show South Africa site Soweto Kinch's site Hockley Circus Birmingham on Google maps
UPDATE: A revised and expanded version of this post
is included in the new Radio To Go ebook Survivors
It’s year 2 for Reggae City: a festival – an all-night festival, but a festival nonetheless – that explicitly showcases what Reggae means in Birmingham. It means a lot to a lot of people. The long term plan is to mean a lot more, as it grows into a big, yearly, urban festival. But, as always, there are obstacles.
Reggae City showcases music – the core of which is British Reggae – that is both diverse geographically and chronologically. Alongside the cream of new and local 21st century reggae crews, there’s a slot for Ranking Roger’s Beat, and visiting acts from Jamaica, Brazil and Poland, as well as other UK based acts.
The event is managed by Kambe events, who also handle Shambala and some other fine events. John Walsh from Kambe was, as usual, impressively calm and relaxed when I talked to him.
They say Birmingham exports more reggae and sends more bands and sound systems out on tour than Jamaica. That's a hell of a statistic.
True or not, 21st century Birmingham reggae is still huge. It's still at the heart of music making in the city: a continuing hotbed for reggae, dancehall and old-school/new-school mash-ups. Sympathetic promoters and enthusiastic audiences abound. There are (at least) two production houses, both in Balsall Heath, pretty much a stones’ throw apart. There's way more to talk about than one blog post can cover.
If you trace 70s and 80s Birmingham music, the emphasis eventually lands squarely on reggae and cross-cultural mixes. Much of this came from Handsworth and Balsall Heath: tough, inner city areas
with overlapping cultures - always promising
from a musical perspective. Handsworth had the edge, with Steel Pulse, Ruby Turner, Cornerstone, Beshara and Apache Indian, and many
others. But Balsall Heath can lay a powerful claim, being home to most of UB40
for many years.
With Andy Hamilton’s generation as a starting point, all of the above are second generation reggae/soul artists. British
by birth, and from a bewildering range of backgrounds, all of them
happily worked, and mostly still work, across a whole pile of musical genres.
Robin Giorno’s Friendly Fire operation has been up and
running for around ten years. He takes an old-school view, working with a core
set of musicians - Friendly Fire Music - who back up both local artists and
visiting stars from the old country. Most of Robin’s work sees the light of day
on his own label, and he also backs his music and label work up with regular JamJah Sound DJ
sets, setting himself a ferocious schedule. If you check out the PST and Reggae City Festival sites, he's there - with his band or as a DJ.
Friendly Fire HQ is an unconventional but effective studio and production centre, spread across several rooms, and leveraging both old-school techniques and web-powered tools. It can be a one-stop shop, with a production chain marked out by a mic and shield rig and decks at one end, and a CD duplicating machine at the other.
Robin Giorno is French; he came to the UK at 18 to
study electronic engineering. It’s a complicated story.
"Studying in England is different. In England it’s much more along personal
development lines, whereas in France
it’s much more rigorous. If I’d stayed in France
I’d have only met other engineers; in England I got fully involved in….
all sorts of areas."
Including Reggae?
"I started listening to Reggae a couple of years before I
left France; all the old-school guys like Marley, Toots, Gladiators, all the
roots 70s guys."
So were you aware of the second-generation Birmingham reggae tradition?
"I don’t think I was! But I wound up going to Summit Records in the
Bullring… and all these songs I could only hear on the radio, on Friday nights
from 10.30 till 11.30 …they were all there! I could get the whole album! So Winston,
who runs Summit,
he guided me a little bit."
"Now those Indie shops are disappearing, the guys like
Winston who fulfilled that role – the benevolent guy behind the counter who turns
you on to this or that sound – are getting rarer and rarer. We’re going to pay
for that in the end."
Robin's exactly right there. Losing the bricks and mortar stores is a 21st century tragedy. Record shopping online works fine, but there's no soul or passion, and it's driven most old-school stores to the wall..
Robin had already cut his teeth on guitar as a teenager in France, into Kiss and Glam rock, but his first UK band is
still the band he plays in now. It emerged from some looped experimental work, to which local rapper Paradox added a vocal track. That found its way to a local studio
which gave Robin some free time to develop some ideas… and the band came into
being.
Check the Friendly Fire site for more - there's a lot more - as well as the gigs list at the bottom of the post.
Nip down the road from Friendly Fire, take a right at the
crossroads, and then right again up the next alleyway, and you’ll find
yourself at Elephant House, home of Overproof Sound System, who happily overlap with G-Corp and others.
You’ll often find the same musicians working in both Friendly Fire and Elephant House; relationships are cordial
and mutually supportive. Brian Nordhoff and Robert Cimarosti run Elephant
House. If you want to read about their studio setup, there’s
a post here.
Nordhoff has been working in and around Reggae since the
late 70s.
"Cornerstone was one of the seminal Birmingham roots bands.
They were one of the few reggae bands to get a Peel session... I started working with
them, then I worked with a crew called African Star, I ended up producing
because I was unimpressed with the live sound we were getting. One night I was
standing by a desk, moaning, and someone said ‘Well, You do it then!’. So I
jumped on, that led onto studio work, started getting more and more involved."
Nordhoff was jumping back and forth between music areas.
"The Elephant House started because we had a band called Electribe101, which we thought was dubby electronic stuff. But we were hailed as the
forerunners of British House. So we had front pages on the NME and Top Of The
Pops… which gave us enough money to build this place."
After major and repeated record company shenanigans (detailed here, and well worth a read if you're about to sign a record deal) the production team that grew out of Electribe 101 walked away
to work independently, and have stayed independent ever since.
So, like Robin Giorno, The Elephant House team spread
themselves pretty far and wide, touring with Overproof Sound System, issuing
material as G-Corp, and producing or mixing a surprisingly wide range of material - including Sly and Robbie, Dillinger, Big Youth, Luciano, Dubmatix, Adrian Sherwood / Dub
syndicate, and a lot more.
"I do find the way new musicians are using older music
very inspiring. They aren’t restricted – they’re delving into all sorts of
music. I think that’s fantastic. It’s much less tribal. The whole dubstep thing
– somebody popped in earlier who’s connected through Jimmy Brown’s and Earl
Falconer’s label – and we produced their Dub Specimen album. I thought it was
fantastic. But I don’t know if anyone has heard it – it was a labour of love
for them.. But I thought it was well worth the effort. It’s going to become a
rare groove CD… "
When G Corp aren't busy touring Overproof, their studio is home to a wide range of bands (covered on this blog in a previous post).
Here's one of the latest productions, with Xova, who embody yet another facet of Birmingham's 3rd Reggae Generation; their management are currently working on a documentary covering the Birmingham reggae tradition.
Knife Crime City - XOVA (G-Corp Album Edit)
Chatting with Brian about music in general and Birmingham in particular
can take you all over the place. We eventually wound up taking about Country Music in Reggae,
and in Old-school Soul.
"I can reel off so many Country songs that were done in the Reggae format. There was a period in Reggae when it was so linked to Country. I
spent the 70s in Handsworth, and everybody’s mum and dad were listening to Jim
Reeves and all the big Country artists of the time. It’s always had a
black/white connection. Bob Marley and
Black Uhuru was produced by Alex Sadkin, and that and Chris Blackwell crossed him
over to the world."
‘Toots In Memphis’, Muscle Shoals, the Stax and Motown
House bands…
"We went over to the Cayman islands to produce an album, and
what struck me was how all the cultures – Black Chinese, Asian, White - all speak either Jamaican Patois or with a
Bajan or a Cayman accent. And everyone is actually seen as a Jamaican. It’s not
what we see from here! The biggest reggae label in the world, VP, which is now
run from Queens in New York,
is run by the Chin brothers, who are Chinese Jamaicans! I grew up with Stax, Motown and Reggae, and that’s led us to where we are now."
It’s an odd but lovely thing to see the Stax-Volt house band concept being carried on in a highly individual reggae-oriented way by Robin
Giorno, while Brian Nordhoff and Rob Cimarosti happily skate across a whole range of genres, while still centering on reggae, sound systems and dancehall. Just part of the grass roots in this town: the creative foundation from which all sorts of brilliant new work can grow. And while we listen to the current generation, be sure that there's a fourth generation getting ready. Some of them might be trying some moves out at Reggaebaby Lounge.
A transcript of a 1979 show with John Lydon, when BRMB had big audiences and let their DJs do weird stuff on air.
This is a radio story from over thirty years ago. It shows how commercial radio has changed, and it’s funny as hell. Well, I think so, because I’m part of it.
We're at the very end of the punk era. I was doing rock shows on Birmingham’s commercial station, BRMB. I was offered a John Lydon interview. Lydon was on his second band, Public Image Limited, after the dissolution of the Sex Pistols. I approached the interview idea with caution. Punk and post-punk artists famously took pride in being awkward sods on air. I had been exquisitely roasted over a slow fire by the Stranglers a few months earlier, and I wasn’t keen on playing media patsy all over again. But Lydon was too interesting to pass up, so we settled on turning the show's music over to him, as part of an extended interview. The music was great: lots of deep Roots Reggae. But predictably, it was a barbed conversation. Lydon was uncompromising, mildly truculent, and provocative. He also talked a lot of sense. In between the music, the challenges flew. I only lost my temper and swore the once…
The show itself does not survive. BRMB was terrible at archiving its output: see my UB40 post for notes on how and why. But the verbal exchanges and music details have survived, lovingly documented and transcribed by the excellent Fodderstompf, who cover all things PiL. My role here is incidental: the transcript exists because Lydon did a show and Fodderstompf documented it. Merry sniping and tetchy badinage, along with relevant links, awaits you …
You're listening to Robin Valk now through till 11. And in this hour Johnny Rotten is picking the music. John welcome to BRMB Radio. What we are going to hear, over this coming hour or so, is what you're playing at the moment, rather than any other stuff. How much of a collection have you got at the moment?
I don't buy rubbish. So it's not that huge. I suppose it escalates over the years. It's enough to humour me, but not enough really.
Have you been able to buy more recently, or has it just gone at the same rate as before?
It's slumped lately.
A lot of things you are going to play, as you explained to me, won't exactly be current, they will have been bought from JA, because they came over in limited edition. The first track I Jah Man Levi, the first version of 'Jah Heavy Load', has got a fairly checkered history. There are two different versions. Why do you prefer this one as opposed to the re-recorded version?
Because the re-recorded version is like cocktail jazz, I don't like it. I prefer this. It's just better. I don't see why the original single was never released, officially. Like most reggae.
Do you feel that British record companies who get into reggae, as a corporate decision, are doing it in the right way? Considering the way both Island Records and Virgin Records made deliberate decisions to get into reggae in a big way, and sign up everything they could. Have they gone about it the right way…
[interrupts] It's not true they signed everything they could. There are several records in that little pile there, they could have signed up but didn't. Probably because they had too much talent. You find that, well, Virgin tend to sign up the weakest kind of reggae. The sort they hope will get in the charts and make a bit of money for them. That's the wrong attitude. You should always stick to the real stuff.
IJAHMAN LEVI - JAH HEAVY LOAD (ORIGINAL)
We're with Johnny Rotten tonight on BRMB, you've just heard 'Jah Heavy Load', the first version, by I Jah Man Levi. Leaving aside what you are doing at the moment, if you wanted to, would you want run a record company simply releasing music you believed in. Would you like to do that, has that ever crossed your mind?
No. Why the hell should I? It's nothing to do with me. I don't want to know about that end of it. I don't see why I should be expected to do it for them. I'm sick of that attitude.
That wasn't quite the angle I was looking at, it's just you are in a position now, where if you wanted to, you could get things done.
Am I? I think you'll find that's not strictly true.
Why?
Well, I still have to scrape and beg for tuppence off the record company. That's the usual story.
The next track Black Uhuru and 'No, No, No.'
That's someone Virgin could have signed but didn't. Sly Dunbar production. They signed Sly, they'll release the rubbish he puts out, but not the good stuff. It's the same with the Gregory Isaacs thing, they could have signed him, they could have signed Ken Boothe, they could have signed a lot of them.
BLACK UHURU - NO, NO, NO
On BRMB talking with Johnny Rotten tonight. Do you recognise there's almost a two tier level of production, whereby Jamaican reggae artists release the real stuff, then the mass-market stuff. Dilute it down a bit for the white market. Do you reckon that happens?
It's not done deliberately in Jamaica. It just so happens that when the masters arrive here the companies tend to cut the bass and lower the treble, and chuck out something that sounds nothing like the original. Something similar happened to our first album. There was a confusion over the masters, I really shouldn't mention all of this, but I can prove it with matrix numbers. The production of our first album mysteriously changed in the cutting of the discs.
As a result it didn't come out the way you wanted?
Ha. It didn't come out the way they wanted. I insisted on the masters we handed in. Otherwise the record would not go out at all.
You've obviously picked up, by virtue of necessity, a fair amount of studio knowledge just to protect what you've got, and what you've done. Do you want to apply that more in the future with Public Image, whatever you wind up doing next?
What do you mean?
Well, just now you're talking about what you've done, and talking about studio techniques, watering things down, and cutting things back, altering it, softening it. And you've had to put that whole side of the business…
[interrupts] I've had to stop it. We've had to stop it. In our personal situation, it is an everyday story, it's no lonely heartbreak. It just means that you should produce your own records, and you should never have anyone tell you how you should sound. You should take your own masters to the cutting rooms. You should make your own acetates. You should deliver them to the record company and make sure that the test pressings that arrive back from the record plants are exactly the same as your acetates. It's simple. If you don't do that you'll never get what you wanted, you won't recognise it.
The next track The Normal 'TVOD'. The Normal - what do you know about them?
I know nothing [laughs]. They seem to be a very discreet bunch. Isn't it something to do with a geezer called Thomas Leer, is that right? [sic: Daniel Miller] He's made a few records, they're alright. I like that sound.
THE NORMAL - T.V.O.D.
The next track is Gregory Isaacs & Christine. This is about a domestic situation, as opposed to…
[interrupts] A situation I didn't create that's for sure! [laughs] I love acting as judge and jury!
Gregory Isaacs is doing stuff nationally, as well as doing his own thing, is this is on his own label from Jamaica or what?
That's stuff that like… Gregory Isaacs is now released through Virgin, but a lot of those songs are old songs or are renditions of somebody else's. They are nowhere near as hard as they could be. And certainly stuff like that single would not normally be released through a nice establishment type record company. They don't like it, it's too heavy.
Lets assume, hypothetically for a moment, an establishment record company, one of the labels, whether it be independent or whatever, decides to issue straight undiluted, unvarnished Jamaican reggae, without cutting it or cleaning it up. Putting it out straight. Wouldn't that in itself be almost seen as a cop-out as be taking it and emasculating it?
How! Surely the reason for making any music is to get the message, that you are trying to get over, to as many people as possible, otherwise you are being a pretentious little snot.
Granted, but at the same time there's a certain tendency for records to be… well, the whole British marketing of the New Wave came about partly through 12" discs and coloured pressings, and exclusive limited editions and all that kind of garbage.
Yes.
If you've got that kind of marketing mentality already installed, by the time that something that was available exclusively, simply because the guys couldn't afford to give it a bigger pressing, a bigger run, national distribution, if it does get to the mass audience then…
[interrupts] Look, look, like Virgin have opened up a chain of record supermarkets. The latest one in Oxford Street you can't even hear a record in there. You're not even given the chance, they're just in racks. You're merely shown what it is, and that's it. You either buy it or don't, you certainly can't hear the thing. That attitude is wrong. Records should be available freely, you should be able to hear them constantly. Radio's are wrong for a start. The fact that they only play the Top 30 records that are selling is pointless waste of time. I mean, if your record is selling and people are buying it, they don't want to hear what they've got day after day, after day. Surely you should be able to hear what you haven't got. And so on, and so forth.
I'm not going to disagree with you, because basically I feel that way myself.
And what are you doing about it?
I'm not playing the god damn Top 30, Jesus!
[interrupts] I never said that did I. I'm not attacking you personally. But if you want to take it that way that's fine, I'm sure you can have a very decent intellectual argument.
I doubt the BRMB listeners want to hear me intellectualising on whether I personally am doing the right thing spreading music, what I'd like to do is talk to you, rather than get into the ins and outs of my own stuff.
Well, I mean the marketing, lets go back to the marketing the records at the moment. Different coloured vinyl, all sorts of gimmicks thrown at you. I mean you can only get away with for as long as an audience tolerate it. And the problem of all those situations is the people buying the stuff. They don't complain, they seem to like it. That's why it continues.
GREGORY ISAACS / CHRISTINE - SATURDAY NIGHT
Next one up is Ken Boothe and 'Got To Get Away'. The three versions that you went through, we're going to play the first one, which in a way, is almost the straightest of the three versions.
Well, I think the words in it are really quite good, and I'd like people to hear them. Ken Boothe is a man of talent.
KEN BOOTHE- GOT TO GET AWAY And finally tonight, from Kraftwerk 'Showroom Dummies', the last track picked out tonight by Johnny Rotten. Kraftwerk, again, getting back to the similarities of electronic synthesisers, we touched on electronic rock earlier with The Normal, Kraftwerk are slightly more easier identifiable, Kraftwerk have changed direction quite radically over the past couple of years, certainly of the 'Showroom Dummies' track.
How do you work that out? They've always been pretty robotic.
They've got shorter and sharper and it's got crisper and…
It's 6 minutes 10 seconds long.
As opposed to 15 minutes of slightly more flowing music…
Well, you're on about very long album tracks then. They can have very short singles at the same time too.
KRAFTWERK - SHOWROOM DUMMIES
On BRMB Radio tonight my guest Johnny Rotten, one of the topics we haven't raised yet is Johnny Rotten's present group. Can you really be worried about lack of airplay if you…
[interrupts] Yes, of course I can. I think it's essential that as many people as possible hear us. That is essential. Otherwise how is anybody gonna be able to discriminate. I mean it's too easy to condemn something without hearing it, and like, lets face it I've faced a lot of that. I get that all the time.
Are you getting tired of being a whipping boy, or has it gone on so long are immune to it?
It's very easy to make me a scapegoat now isn't it.
Exactly.
I mean, look at the competition there really isn't any.
Yeah, but how do you feel about it personally? It seems to happen about every other week, that you wind up in a situation, that someone is going be firing at you. You seem to half relish it and half hate it at the same time.
Well, of course I like it. That's practically what I want. At least its a reaction. I mean it's better than 'Crossroads' is it not?I don't go out of my way to shout and scream blue blooded murder, that would be pointless, I just want a bit of difference in attitude from people. I don't like the way people accept roles. Lets see, the term punk that really did make me ill. The way the whole host of morons freely accepted that tag given to them by the media. That was where that movement went wrong, and that is why I had to get away from it. I will not be put into an army for anyone. [long pause] No uniforms.
Johnny Rotten thank you kindly.
PiL - ANNALISA
Many thanks to Johnny Rotten for the past hour of conversation, and music, and arguments…
My thanks to Fodderstompf for
taking the time to transcribe the recording someone made, and to Beshara Muzic: This post is here because Beshara Muzic, inheritors of the mantle of Birmingham Reggae greats Beshara, spotted the Fodderstompf post and tipped me off. I'm really glad they did. My link with Beshara Muzic was forged as a result of working on 'Handsworth Evolution' - blog post here - a 2010 documentary I produced about Reggae in Birmingham.
Ricky Cool is a music veteran... who adores vintage music. He's a walking encyclopedia of US roots music, and he's no slouch about the UK music scene over the past 50 years. 
The Lives in Music series celebrates people who have spent a lifetime in music. 
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