MAKING IT UP AS YOU GO ALONG: NOTES FROM A BASS IMPOSTER by Bill MacCormick

The Dulwich College Colts Rugby XV of 1967 included half of Quiet Sun, one member each of Roxy Music and Matching Mole, 40% of the group 801 and the older brother of Random Hold and Peter Gabriel guitarist Dave Rhodes. “I played centre, wing or fullback,” writes Bill MacCormick. “I got as far away from those nasty forward as possible.”

        Dulwich College is a public school, of which MacCormick disapproves strongly, but he can be seen in the back row of this musical XV in a photograph reproduced early on in Making It Up As You Go Along: Notes From A Bass Imposter. Through contacts made at the school, he became a contemporary and close friend of Soft Machine and others from what became known as the Canterbury scene, finding himself among a host of musicians whose work was unlikely to find commercial success; who preferred instead to perform experimental music loosely labelled as jazz rock, almost always improvisational with uncommon time-signatures, a bit cosmic and slightly weird, to my ears anyway. 

        MacCormick has written a chirpy, self-deprecating and remarkably candid memoir of his time as a musician in this strain of Britain’s underground, its close attention to dates, places and haphazard events, many of them trivial, suggesting he dutifully kept diaries retained for decades and/or has a remarkable memory. Stints in the avant-garde groups Quiet Sun and Matching Mole are followed by 801, alongside Roxy Music’s Phil Manzanera and Brian Eno, and Random Hold who recorded for Polydor and were managed by Gail Colson, Peter Gabriel’s manager, which catapulted them briefly into the big time. When RH fired him he applied to Gail for moneys owed to him which emptied their bank account and effectively put an end to the group, and although this episode closes the book it contains references to the future throughout. 

        Interspersed among highly detailed accounts of the recording and stage careers of these bands are interesting diversions, the most unexpected MacCormick’s brief acquaintance with the actress Julie Christie, with whom he is besotted – naturally – the connection being the close friendship between her and Robert Wyatt’s girlfriend and subsequent wife Alfreda ‘Alfie’ Benge, and interviews he undertakes for Street Life, the alternative paper published between 1975-6, with Warren Beatty and US senator George McGovern among others. Furthermore, in between stints as a musician, MacCormick became a politician, campaigning on behalf of the Liberal Party and, later in life, becoming a councillor, all of which adds plenty of spice to this lively memoir. His indignation at the behaviour of the ruling classes is expressed most eloquently in the chapter that focuses on the lyrics to songs on Listen Now, 801’s only studio album.

        Throughout his musical career, MacCormick seems to have drifted through life with plenty of luck on his side, his boundless modesty conveying the idea that he wasn’t much of a musician – as indicated by the title – but was a good mixer, amiable, willing and not one to complain. Such diffidence is endearing and led him to decline an invitation to record with Richard Thompson. “Though flattered I politely declined,” he writes. “Thomson was Premier League. I was at best Conference League South. I knew my limitations.”

        MacCormick’s book is full of carefree banter like this, some of it rather over-egged, the literary equivalent of theatre’s fourth wall insofar as he takes the reader into his confidence in light-hearted asides, frequently veering off into arbitrary side-issues, many of them politically left of centre, and arcane observations about times and places, some of them no doubt gleaned from Wikipedia. There are frequent references to his older brother Ian who, as Ian MacDonald, was assistant editor at NME in the early 1970s and among the most eloquent and perceptive music writers of his generation. 

        Occupying over 100 pages at the end are 18 appendices, all of them press packs or features and reviews from the music press reproduced verbatim, many written by my old MM colleague Richard Williams, while the preceding two chapters are obituaries of musician friends (and Ian), and a “Where Are They Now” section of those still walking. With footnotes and endnotes galore, loads of black and white pictures throughout and an unreliable index, this makes for a long read, 470 pages in all, but if a fly-on-the-wall account of life as an avant-garde musician is your cup of tea it’s worth the effort. Unforgivably, however, MacCormick spells Townshend without the H. 

        Finally, a confession. It was June 1970, my first week as a staff writer on Melody Maker. Too embarrassed to admit that I was wholly unfamiliar with their music, I accepted assistant editor Williams’ summons to review Soft Machine’s Third LP, took it home and listened carefully to music which, having been raised on no-nonsense Elvis and The Beatles, was pretty much foreign to me.  

        Still, I did my best: “As the title suggests, this is Soft Machine’s third album,” I began, stating the obvious, “and their most ambitious yet” – an educated guess. “It is a double venture and features just four tracks – one per side.” So far so good but something more profound was clearly called for. “The first side, ‘Facelift’, was recorded live at the Fairfields Hall, Croydon, and starts with what could be mistaken for Mike Ratledge slowly pulling his organ to pieces key by key but soon the whole scene changes and becomes more interesting with solos from each of the group.” I went on to state that Robert Wyatt’s was “not the best voice on the British scene”, that side four was the best of the four with an “eerie space sounding organ reminiscent of 2001 Space Odyssey”, and that the whole band “blend individually as one machine. A good set for the Soft’s fans and jazz enthusiasts too,” I concluded, blandly. Richard Williams never again gave me a Soft Machine LP to review.

        This shameful episode came back to haunt me as I read MacCormick’s fascinating book, and reviewing it here offers me an opportunity to apologise deeply to Robert Wyatt, the only surviving member of the Soft Machine line-up that recorded Third. Sorry Robert. ‘Shipbuilding’ was great, by the way. 

DAVID JOHANSEN - The Last Doll To Fall Over

The New York Dolls in 1973, picture by Bob Gruen. David Jo is on the right.

The legend of The New York Dolls, erstwhile nominees for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame yet shamefully never inducted, reached its finale last week with the announcement that David Johansen, their singer, had died aged 75, so it’s a pound to a penny it’ll never happen now. Or maybe it will. A dead Doll can’t disrupt proceedings after all. 

        The Dolls were the trashiest of the trash and for a year or two in the 1970s I was on first-name terms with David Jo, the last Doll standing. They were a band that never fitted in but never wanted to either. The field they ploughed alongside very few others, Iggy perhaps, maybe Lou at times, was at the extreme end of decadence, which was where they believed rock should squat. With the possible exception of Keith Moon, I cannot think of anyone who revelled in licentiousness as much as the five Dolls, David, Johnny Thunders, Arthur Kane, Sylvain Sylvain and Jerry Nolan (who replaced original drummer Billy Murcia who died in London in 1972). They made the Pistols look like choirboys. It made them enemies as well as friends, and I liked to think I was their friend, well for some of the time. 

        For a couple of years in New York, from 1974-76, when I was Melody Maker’s man in America, I saw David and his band regularly but they presented me with a dilemma. My predecessor in that role, Roy Hollingworth, adored them, declaring them the future of rock’n’roll, writing, somewhat loquaciously, in MM: “Here on this stage battles a baggage of balls and trousers and high-heeled shoes; and drunkenness and unwashed hair; and untuned guitars and songs that musicians would call a mess but a rock and roll child would say ‘God Bless You – You are so necessary!’ Rock and roll is sex. And the Dolls played on. And they played sex. Non-stop.”

        Such was Roy’s enthusiasm for the Dolls that it seemed churlish for those MM writers that followed him not to share it, to some extent anyway. There was much to admire about them, not least their enthusiastic embrace of an “us against the world” attitude, a stance much respected by those music writers who harboured a militant streak, but at the same time, as Roy noted, they could be very loose on stage, almost to the point of incompetence. Some of their songs, though, were absolute killers, especially ‘Personality Crisis’ and ‘Looking For A Kiss’, both of which were played endlessly on the juke box in Max’s Kansas City and, later, at Ashley’s Bar. 

        The first time I saw them, at the Whiskey in Los Angeles in 1973, I thought they were a hoot, and the second time, at the Academy of Music in New York a year later, I wrote about how much they’d improved but how they seemed intent on imitating the Stones. I would see them perhaps half a dozen more times over the next couple of years, a period that saw their fortunes slipping and sliding alas. At the Academy, however, they were still on a pedestal, their set preceded by a short film that had been made by their biggest fan, Bob Gruen, New York’s hippest rock photographer, then and now a good friend.

The Dolls were social animals, hanging out in New York bars like Max’s and Ashley’s where musicians gathered late into the night, and I got to know singer David Jo well, along with his girlfriend Cyrinda Foxe, a beautiful blonde who left him for Steve Tyler, the singer with Aerosmith. We also bumped into one another at parties and yesterday the US writer Jon Tiven posted this picture of me at the same table as David on my FB page. I think – but I’m not 100% sure – that the girl I’m with at the back is the model Lisa Stolley. 

        Later that same year I saw the Dolls at Club 82, the joint where I first encountered Debbie Harry with The Stilettos. “For the past two Mondays, the Dolls have appeared at the Club 82 in New York, an ideal place for premiering new ‘glittery’ talent in New York, but hardly the kind of venue for a band with two British tours and two albums under their belt,” I wrote in MM. “An obvious step down, in fact, and a sure pointer that all is not well in the Dolls’ camp. Some observers are going as far as saying the Dolls’ demise is a carbon copy of the Velvet Underground’s story in New York. Perhaps in five years’ time, their albums will be hailed as works of art and David Johansen, Johnny Thunders and Co will be resurrected in much the same way as Lou Reed has made his recent comeback.”

It wasn’t to be though Malcolm McLaren, a Dolls groupie, tried his best to resurrect their career by dressing them up in red uniforms and declaring them communists. “The Dolls had only just survived being labelled gay transvestites and had the bruises to prove it. If they were going to pursue the Communist trip under Malcolm's regime, Vivienne [Westwood] was going to have to run up matching bullet proof vests,” wrote Nina Antonia in Too Much Too Soon, her biography of the band, published by Omnibus in 1997 and eagerly commissioned by me. 

Nina's book - highly recommended. 

         When I left New York I thought I’d never see the Dolls again but I was wrong. On the evening of March 10, 2006, I watched what remained of the group – just David and Syl – at Selfridges on Oxford Street where they played in the basement, the Ultra Lounge as it was called in those days, and it was very dark and noisy and smoky, and throughout the evening beautiful models in off-the-shoulder short black dresses with long legs and six-inch heels plied me with champagne. Decadence still followed the Dolls everywhere, it seemed. The event was to mark the opening of a punk fashion week, though quite why the Dolls had been flown over at huge expense from New York for one free gig escaped me completely. For starters they weren’t really punks, more 60% glam, 35% Rolling Stones clones with the remaining 5% punk – but only in attitude, not musically.

         It would have been around midnight when the Dolls finally tottered on to the small stage in their high heels and finery but they played so excruciatingly loud that I was hard pressed to identify anything other than the opening number, ‘Personality Crisis’. Thereafter the Dolls turned up and up and, in a room with a relatively low ceiling that was never intended for live music anyway, the sound degenerated into a great wash of noise. I don’t think my ears have been assaulted in such a way since I stood on John’s side of the stage for Who shows back in the Seventies. As ever, David Jo pranced around like Mick Jagger, colliding into Syl and sharing his mike. Still, despite the volume the Dolls didn’t disappoint.

         My final Dolls show was on June 18, 2004, when the two Dolls who were at Selfridges, David and Syl, appeared with their original bassist Arthur Kane at the Royal Festival Hall as part of that year’s Meltdown Festival, curated by Morrissey, one of their biggest fans who once published a Dolls fanzine. At one point in the show, between numbers, David approached the microphone and thanked their English fans for their support. “And we got a lot of support from a writer on Melody Maker,” he said. “I can’t remember his name.” 

“It was Roy Hollingworth,” I yelled at the top of my voice from where I was sat, in a box at the side. 

David glanced up at the box but I doubt he recognised me from those days back in New York. “That’s right, Roy Hollingworth,” he mumbled into the mike. 

RIP David. 

JOHN LENNON V THE US GOVERNMENT

It was 50 years this week that I wrote my first big story for Melody Maker about John Lennon’s fight to remain the US. It was an ongoing story that I covered a lot when I lived in New York and as a result I made the acquaintance of John’s lawyer, Leon Wildes, seen above with John at one of the many hearings devoted to the case. Leon was a seeker of the truth, and in John’s case the truth of the matter – the real reason why the US Government wanted to expel him – was crucial in the successful outcome from Leon and John’s point of view.

It wasn’t often that my stories for Melody Maker read like formal law reports but this one does, a bit anyway. Here it is, as published in MM dated March 1, 1975. 

John Lennon’s protracted negotiations to stay in the United States will reach a climax within the next three months, according to his attorney, Leon Wildes, who this week explained to the Melody Maker exactly how John stood in relation to the Immigration Authorities.

        John entered the US on August 31, 1971, at St Thomas in the Virgin Islands, originally intending to stay for “about two months” and specifically to attend a court hearing concerning the custody of Kyoko, Yoko Ono’s daughter by her first marriage to film director Tony Cox.

        Leon Wildes was retained as Lennon’s attorney at the beginning of 1972 when it became necessary for him to apply for an extension to his visa to stay in the States.

        Since then there have been numerous attempts by the US government to have John deported, but constant appeals against Government action have enabled him to remain, if a little precariously, in the US. The situation, however, has meant that John is unable to leave the country for any reason. If he did, the chances are that he wouldn’t be able to get back in again, and this is a situation he dare not risk.*

        Lennon has travelled extensively within the US during his sojourn here. He has spent periods in Los Angeles, staying at a house belonging to record producer Lou Adler, whose name, incidentally, is currently coupled with actress Brit Ekland. He has also spent time in Florida with his son Julian**, but for the most part has lived in New York, mostly at an apartment in the Dakota building on New York’s West Side with Yoko. Recently they have separated and John is living with Yoko’s former assistant May Pang in a small apartment on the East Side.

        The Government case against Lennon is now before the US Second Court of Appeal in the Second (New York) Circuit. Lennon’s case has to be presented before the end of next week, and the Government’s likewise. The law will be argued in court and reaching the decision that follows will take between one and three months. 

        This need not necessarily be a final decision. Either party in the suit can make a further appeal to the Supreme Court which first of all decides whether or not to try the case or stand by the decision of the Appeal Court. If this court decides to hear a further appeal, then further delays will ensue.

        At the same time, Lennon’s attorney has filed two actions against the Government, which complicates matters further. The first and most important claims that the Immigration Department prejudged John’s case in the first place without giving him a fair opportunity to state his reasons for wishing to remain the US.

        This case was first brought in October, 1973, and the judge in question sustained Lennon’s claim. As a result John was given leave to examine the Government witnesses involved and already proceedings are in motion to question the man who was the District Director of the Immigration Office at the time of John’s original deportation order. This man, Sol Marks, who has since retired to Florida, held this position that charged him by law to decide whether proceedings should be taken against an illegal alien. Lennon, of course, is claiming that Marks should not have started these proceedings, that he prejudged the case. 

        Lennon’s second action is his “non priority” case which, like his first action, is being heard in the New York Federal District Court. This “non priority” list is a list of aliens within the US who are allowed to remain in the country for humanitarian reasons despite having convictions that would otherwise render them liable for expulsion. 

        Leon Wildes has secured copies of the “non priority” regulations, and a copy of other approved cases on the list. There are, he says, other persons on that list who have convictions for trafficking in drugs and he contends that Lennon ought to be on that list. Lennon, of course, has only one conviction for possession of marijuana, a considerably lesser offence than trafficking in illegal narcotics.

        Still another application was filed in 1972 contending that John and Yoko were outstanding artists and, as such, ought to be allowed to remain in the US because of their contribution towards the culture of the country.

Wildes claims he has information that shows that the Government deliberately hid this application, actually locking the relevant documents away in a safe, thus holding up or attempting to ignore the application. This, says, Wildes, was because of a memorandum which was circulated by an unknown Government agency to other Government agencies which stated that John and Yoko were to be kept under physical observance at all times because of possible political activities.

Wildes is currently attempting to find the source of this document. If he does, he says, it will break the case wide open and prove there has been a miscarriage of justice. “We have never deliberately asked for support from any important people or politicians, but several have come forward and indicated that they want to help,” Wildes told me. 

        “At this point I think we have got more law on our side than ever before. I think we have a better chance in view of the present political climate because attitudes towards John are changing all the time. Ultimately, of course, we hope that the law of drug convictions and entry into the US will be changed.”

        Finally, one other factor has arisen in John’s favour. England has just passed a law called the Uniform Rehabilitation Act which wipes out certain convictions from a person’s record after a certain number of years. This comes into effect on July 1 this year and will wipe out the original drug conviction against John’s name which was, of course, the US Government’s only concrete excuse for starting the proceedings against him on the first place.

        Meanwhile Lennon rocks on. This week sees the release of another solo album, a collection of oldies entitled Rock’n’Roll, the result of tapes made with Phil Spector in Loa Angeles last October.

        Yet another controversy surrounds the release of this set which was originally scheduled for April. An unauthorised bootleg album, titled Roots, and emanating from the same sessions has been advertised on TV as available by mail order only in the US. It contains much of the same material but in an uncompleted state. How these copies of the tapes disappeared from the studio and came into the hands of the “Adam VIII” label (the label mentioned in the TV ads) is a mystery but the situation resulted in Capitol’s decision to rush-release Lennon’s official album ahead of schedule.

____

* In a private conversation, John told me that every time he flew anywhere in the States he was terrified that for some reason, perhaps bad weather, the plane might be diverted out of the US and, on its return, he’d be barred from entering the US again.

** John also told me that it was when he was in Florida, staying with Julian at the Disney World resort near Orlando, that he signed the papers that finally dissolved the Beatles’ business partnership, the last Beatle to do so.