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Redesigned Revitalized

by on 27. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, DJ / Club Culture, Manchester, Mixes, The Eighties, The Seventies

You don’t know how happy I am to be able to tell you that, after months and months of chipping away, the new redesigned revitalized Electrofunkroots website is now live and kicking, having undergone a complete overhaul, with loads of new content added. Full menu here:
http://www.electrofunkroots.co.uk/index.php/sitemap/

Originally launched back in August 2003, Electrofunkroots is absolutely central to my work, providing the foundation from which my DJ career was rejuvenated, and the catalyst for all my subsequent documentation of UK dance culture, and popular culture in general (without Electrofunkroots it’s doubtful that I’d have set up this blog, 7 years later down the line).

The idea came from Stevie Adams, a web designer who I’d hooked-up with via his association with the dancer / choreographer, Benji Reid, who had originally started out with Manchester breakdance crew, Broken Glass back in 1984 (I had previously been their manager). On reading my 2002 article, ‘Electro-Funk – What Did It all Mean?’, Stevie had suggested a website dedicated to the era, and kindly offered to construct it for me.

It was a logical progression. I’d began to explore the internet just a year or so beforehand, and having been almost completely detached from the club scene throughout the 90’s and on into the new millennium, I became acutely aware that time had most certainly moved on, with UK dance culture now being discussed in a very much historical context. The story was being gradually set in stone, both online and in print, yet it was clear to me that the most vital part was almost totally absent – the fundamental role of what we used to call ‘the black scene’, of which Electro-Funk and Jazz-Funk before it (and Disco & Funk before that), packed the most discerning dancefloors, and without which the oncoming Hip Hop, House and Techno movements could never have taken root in this country in the way that they did.

In this truncated account, it was as if nothing of note had happened in the years between the height of Northern Soul in the mid-late 70’s and the emergence of Acid House in the late 80’s, when this was, in fact, its most fertile period – a hybrid age of dance alchemy and groove experimentation. DJ’s on the black scene were responsible for breaking so many now classic records in this country, both on a commercial and cult level – yet they were largely omitted in this flawed narrative, despite their huge contribution to our rich musical heritage, having been the first to play Funk, Disco, Jazz-Funk, Jazz Fusion, Electro, Street Soul, Hip-Hop, Boogie, Rare Groove, House and Techno. These were true UK originators, yet their story hadn’t been deemed relevant - their contribution, at best, regarded as little more than a bit part. Crazy!

Seeing the situation, I made a vow, which has underpinned all that’s followed in my reignited career – this was to do everything in my power to draw attention back to the black scene and its influence. When I made this decision, I was aware that the best I could do was stick my finger into this vast dike of misinformation – I was only one person, a name from the past that meant nothing to clubbers now, precisely because this history was so hidden. Nevertheless, I felt a strong sense of obligation to what had gone before, so it was a case of bearing witness in whatever way I could – making available the archive material I’ve kept from those days, along with my personal memories from direct experience, so it was at least out there, albeit in a small way, for those who want to dig that bit deeper.

Although I’d started in the clubs as far back as 1975, the period I’d archived most thoroughly was the early 80’s, when I was heavily involved at the cutting-edge of the black scene, eventually hosting 2 of its most influential nights, at Legend in Manchester and at Wigan Pier, the clubs most associated with the emerging Electro-Funk movement. I was there right at its conception and, having already built my reputation as a Jazz-Funk specialist during the previous years, in 82/83 I found myself at the forefront of this controversial move towards the electronic. Cast in the role of heretic, I was right there in the eye of the hurricane, on the one hand acclaimed as an innovator, on the other criticised for instigating change.

The process began with me digging through the boxes in my loft, piecing it all back together bit by bit. I could get pretty close-in thanks to the record lists / info sheets I kept, plus the old black music magazines I’d collected. I could precisely date, within a week or so, all of the records I’d bought during this period, the majority of which had been exported from the US (mainly on New York labels). The framework of times, places and what was played was reconstructed, but, given that there was so little information available elsewhere as to what Electro-Funk actually constituted, and how it evolved, I figured I’d need to write some sort of introductory piece by way of explanation.

Once I started writing (or rather typing furiously in my pitiful one fingered way) I couldn’t stop. For months I was like a man possessed, continually cross-referencing all my archive material and unloading my memories. After this process reached its conclusion, with the release of the ‘UK Electro’ album, which I co-wrote and produced after I’d retired as a professional DJ in 1984, it was clear that I’d written the first draft of a book that documents the era – my Electro-Funk memoirs. Apart from the actual factual history, it is also an in-depth account of what it was like to be a DJ at a crucial juncture in UK dance history – as well as documenting the black scene (and the wider black culture of the time), I also got into other aspects that had never been previously explored, like the emergence of mixing in this country, and how The Haçienda (where I had a weekly night in ’83) owes a huge debt to Manchester clubs like Legend, The Gallery, The Playpen and Berlin, which sowed the seeds of what was to happen there later in the decade - the dance underground of the black scene going overground, following the explosion of the incoming rave scene.

Most younger people have been led to believe that there wasn’t much happening here before Nicky Holloway, Paul Oakenfold, Danny Rampling and Johnny Walker went on holiday to Ibiza together in the summer of 1987, and took ecstasy. The Balearic romance of this tale has obscured so much of what went before, creating its own mythology in the process, with the clubbing industry that has grown around the white isle continuing to endorse this year on year. Although the Ibiza story is obviously an important part of the overall history, those who regard this as some sort of year zero will never understand the true lineage of Britain’s rich and distinct club culture, which developed in a totally different way to what was happening in the US - the specialist DJ’s here, in many respects, more upfront in the music they played than their transatlantic counterparts.

The old adage I often quote, ‘to know the future first you must know the past’, gains special resonance in this respect. If your understanding is a misinformed one, you can never hope to see what lies ahead, as this can never be anything more than an illusionary future.

The second draft of my ‘book’ has never been approached. Once I figured that I had a book on my hands, I realised what a mammoth task it is to actually complete one. A first draft is all good and well, but then you have to methodically comb through, adding newly acquired information and making amendments. God knows how people used to write books before computers existed!  As a result, almost 10 years on, what I managed to get out of my system and onto paper (or rather into a Word docu) back then remains largely unaltered – something I plan to remedy in the not too distant. However, this has been an invaluable personal resource, and has provided fertile ground for a number of articles I’ve written since.

Having reamed off so much on the subject, I remembered my original intention; to write something more concise that would provide an introduction to the era I was highlighting – this would be ‘Electro-Funk – What Did It All Mean?’, which initially presented me with a dilemma. My first thought was to write objectively, but it seemed disingenuous for me to do a third person piece about something I was personally involved with. On the other hand, I felt that writing subjectively might provoke accusations of bigging things up purely because of this personal involvement. It was something I’d have preferred someone else to write, but the more I thought about it the more clear it became that it had to be me. I decided that the need to get to the core of the matter, and pay full props to all those who built what so many others have since benefitted from, far outweighed any personal discomfort I might feel from writing an objective piece from a subjective standpoint. I felt I had the facts on my side, which I could back up if push came to shove, so I braced myself for the criticism I anticipated from certain quarters (the people I was basically saying had their story wrong), but, somewhat surprisingly, this never materialised – at least not openly.

The article, written in November ’02, was really well received, and a whole heap of websites carried it, including Electro Empire, Disco Music, Old School Hip Hop, Davy D’s Hip Hop Corner, Global Darkness and Jahsonic. Rather than being a negative, the personal aspect to my writing seemed to be what people particularly enjoyed, and has proved to be one of the most positive moves I’ve made, informing all my subsequent writing on this and other related subjects, an ethos that continues here in this blog.

Electrofunkroots was born of this and, as a result of the site going online, my DJ career re-born. Given that I’d raised my head above the parapet, following a 2 decade hiatus, and now had an internet presence, I was approached with regards to potential bookings, resulting in my comeback, on December 20th 2003 with the Music Is Better night at The Attic in Manchester.

I’ve now been a professional DJ for longer than I was the first time around, passing that particular milestone earlier this month. With this in mind it’s fitting that Electrofunkroots, the catalyst for my return, finally gets its long overdue renovation. There’s so much new content to explore, and more to be added in the coming months. This includes the Electrospective section, focusing on the hugely successful 11 hour event in August 2008. Presented by the Manchester District Music Archive at Islington Mill in Salford, I interviewed 4 of the city’s key DJ’s of the 82-88 pre-Rave period, Mike Shaft, Colin Curtis, Hewan Clarke and Chad Jackson, whilst Tim Forde, presented his documentary film ‘The Birth Of The British B Boy’, with some of his old Broken Glass brethren being joined by Manchester’s other classic crew, Street Machine (complete with original member, Take That’s Jason Orange), for a proper old school battle. It was a memorable occasion on so many levels.

The Mike Shaft interview will be followed by Colin’s, Hewan’s and Chad’s in the coming weeks. There will also be a number of mixes embedded (via SoundCloud), kicking off with ‘The Best Of ‘82’ and ‘The Best Of ‘83’, my end of year mixes, broadcast on Mike Shaft’s essential weekly specialist show on Piccadilly Radio. I’ll also be revisiting the music I played 30 years ago, with a monthly ‘Top 10 Floorfillers’, starting off with the January 1982 edition:

GREG WILSON'S EARLY 80'S FLOORFILLERS - JANUARY 1982 by gregwilson

I should add that the ‘Early 80’s Floorfillers’ will also be available on iPhone, iPod touch and iPad via the Radio ditto app, downloadable for free from iTunes.

New content will continue to be added on a regular basis from this point onwards, and my intention to evolve an in-depth archive of the Electro-Funk era, and what led up to it, has entered a whole new phase. The site is running so smoothly it purrs; it’s a joy to navigate. Huge thanks to Stu Robinson and Dan Smith without whom this couldn’t have been achieved.

In embarking on this new venture, I’d like to conclude by paying my respects to the following people, all DJ contemporaries of mine during the 75-84 period, whose passion for black music, and pioneering spirit, played a major part in shaping the course of UK club culture:

Alex Lowes, Andy Peebles, Barry Neale, Baz Fe Jazz, Baz Maleady, Bill Smith, Bill Swift, Billy Davidson, Bob Boardman, Bob Jeffries, Bob Jones, Boo, Chad Jackson, Chris Brown, Chris Dinnis, Chris Harper, Chris Hill, Cleveland Anderson, Colin Curtis, Colin Hudd, Colin Parnell, Darren Fogel, Dave Christian, Dixie Dean, Eddie James, Eric Hearn, Frenchie, Froggy, George Power, Gordon Mac, Graham Canter, Graham Carn, Graham Gold, Greg Edwards, Hewan Clarke, Ian Anderson, Ian Dewhirst, Ian Redding, James Hamilton, Jeff Young, John DeSade, John Grant, John Green, John Osborne, Jonathan, Jon Taylor, Kelly, Kenny McCleod, Kev Edwards, Kev Hill, Kevin Keatings, Les Spaine, Lyndon T, Mark Roman, Martin Collins, Mastermind Roadshow, Mike Allen, Mike Davidson, Mike Shaft, Neil Neal, Nicky Flavell, Nicky Holloway, Nicky Jackson, Nicky Peck, Norman Jay, Owen Washington, Paul Anderson, Paul Clark, Paul Cooke, Paul Dixon, Paul Rae, Paul Schofield, Paul Murphy, Persian, Pete Girtley, Pete Haigh, Pete Tong, Ralph Randell, Ralph Tee, Richard Searling, Robbie Vincent, Robin Nash, Sean French, Shaun Williams, Simon Walsh, Sterling Vann, Steve Allen, Steve Dennis, Steve Devonne, Steve Walsh, Terry Lennaine, Thomas Felton, Tim Westwood, Tom Holland, Tony Clark, Tony ‘Shades’ Valence, Trevor M, and the Wild Bunch (apologies to anyone I might have forgotten).

Electrofunkroots website:
http://www.electrofunkroots.co.uk

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DJ Streets Ahead

by on 26. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, DJ / Club Culture, Misc, The Eighties, The Nineties, Video

Sad to hear about the untimely passing of DJ Streets Ahead (Shem McCauley) one of the UK’s pioneering scratch & cut exponents, who’d re-invent himself in the mid-90’s as the successful dance music producer, Slacker. More recently he moved to Bangkok, Thailand, which is where he died (cause of death is still unconfirmed).

Although I didn’t know him well, having arrived on the scene after I’d stopped deejaying myself, I’d met him on a couple of occasions during the mid-80’s via a mutual friend, Jon Williams, who worked for The Street Scene magazine, and then for Fourth & Broadway and Jive Records.

The photo above was taken in 1985 at ‘Electro Rock’, the seminal UK Hip Hop event at The Hippodrome in London, at which Broken Glass, the Manchester breakdance crew I’d previously managed, also appeared. You can watch it here:
http://video.google.com/videoplay

Shem McCauley RIP Facebook Page:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shem-McCauley-RIP

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Etta James

by on 21. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, Film, Records, The Nineties, The Sixties

Los Angeles born Blues / Rhythm & Blues / Soul singer, Etta James, regarded as one of the great American vocalists, died yesterday, aged 73.

Neither of her 2 most celebrated recordings, ‘At Last’ (1960) and ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’ (1968) were British hits, and, although I was a big Soul music fan at an early age, devouring the singles my older brother and sister had bought, there was nothing by Etta James, so this wasn’t a name I became aware of until later down the line. I knew ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’, as this was a Top 20 hit for a British band called Chicken Shack in 1969, but I hadn’t realised it was a cover version. ‘At Last’, a song that was introduced by the Glenn Miller Orchestra, with featured vocalists Ray Eberle and Lynn Bari, in the 1942 musical, ‘Orchestra Wives’ (a movie which, I should add, features a remarkable Nicholas Brothers dance sequence here), is, of course, acclaimed as an American standard, with James’s version acknowledged as the definitive one.

Her one and only British hit, ‘I Just Want To Make Love To You’ reached #5, but not until 36 years after she’d first recorded it. Originally released by Muddy Waters in 1954 (written by Willie Dixon), the track was probably best known in this country via the Rolling Stone’s more upbeat cover, which was included on their 1964 self-titled debut album, James’s version of the song was revived as the soundtrack to a popular Diet Coke advert in the mid-90’s, resulting in her long overdue 1996 chart debut.

All 3 of these track were recorded for the classic Chicago label, Chess, which had enjoyed its greatest success in the 50’s, via artists including Muddy Waters and fellow Blues legend Howlin’ Wolf, the Rock & Roll giant Chuck Berry, and Bo Diddley, whose style neatly bridged the two. The 2008 biopic ‘Cadillac Records’ was about Chess, with Beyonce Knowles playing the part of Etta James.

It’s ironic that, just as she died, her vocals from the 1962 song, ‘Something’s Got A Hold On Me’, are reaching a new generation and can be heard in clubs up and down the country, having been sampled on recent hits by Avicii (‘Levels’) and Flo Rida (‘Good Feeling’).

Etta James Wikipedia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Etta_James

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Ali At Three Score And Ten

by on 17. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, Documentaries, DVD, Film, Misc, The Eighties, The Seventies, The Sixties

Muhammad Ali, arguably the greatest sportsman of the 20th Century, and certainly one of its foremost historical figures, is 70 years old today.

The much loved former heavyweight boxer was labeled a big mouth when he started out, and nicknamed the ‘Louisville Lip’. When he fought the fearsome champion, Sonny Liston, for the World heavyweight title in February 1964 the majority of people expected him to be well and truly shut up, but he upset all the odds and beat the man regarded as ‘invincible’ by many boxing critics. Ranting from the ring directly after the fight he came out with one of his best-remembered quotes:

I’m king of the world, I am the greatest. I shook up the world, I’m king of the world, I’m pretty, I’m pretty, I’m a bad man. I’m king of the world. I’m 22 years old and I ain’t got a mark on my face. I’m pretty”.

At this time he was known as Cassius Clay, but after becoming champion he declared himself a member of the Nation Of Islam (or the Black Muslims as they were called), and the following month its leader, Elijah Muhammad, revealed that he’d be renamed Muhammad Ali (although many boxing commentators continued to call him Clay for years to come, despite his objections that this was a ‘slave name’ forced on his ancestors). His association with the Black Muslims was seen as highly controversial in the US, the government already wary of the rhetorical skills of its great orator Malcolm X. With Civil Rights high on the political agenda, Ali was regarded as something of a loud mouthed loose cannon. The radical stance of the Nation Of Islam, referring to white people as devils and preaching separatism, was opposed by not only by whites, but by many blacks as well. Floyd Patterson, who’d lost the title to Liston in 1963 regarded the Black Muslims as ‘a menace’, whilst the tennis player Arthur Ashe, who become the first black man to win a Grand Slam title, accused them of spreading ‘a racist ideology’.

When he fought Liston again the following year, his association with the Nation Of Islam caused the majority of the audience to boo him, whilst Liston, now the challenger, was cheered. The fight was over in the 1st round, Ali winning courtesy of the notorious ‘phantom punch’, with many believing that Liston had taken a dive. It would also provide sport with one of its iconic images, with Ali stood over the felled former champion.

Sonny Liston would later be immortalised when his waxwork was used as part of the collage of cut out life sized figures photographed for the sleeve of The Beatles’ ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ by Michael Cooper in 1967 – Liston’s waxwork was one of 9 loaned from Madame Tussauds by ‘Sgt. Peppers’ designer, the English pop artist Peter Blake (Blake would buy the Liston waxwork, Tussauds no longer wishing to display it following the defeat to Ali – it currently stands at the door of his West London studio).

Remaining the unbeaten Champion throughout the next 3 years, successfully defending his title 9 times, Ali was stripped of it in 1967, having declared himself a conscientious objector and refused to fight in the Vietnam War. He famously said, on being made available for draft the previous year; “I ain't got no quarrel with the Vietcong. No Vietcong ever called me Nigger”.

Although he was spared jail (he was originally sentenced to 5 years), he was heavily punished by not being allowed to box (eventually returning to the ring in 1970). In the intervening years he supported himself by speaking at colleges and universities across the country, where opposition to the war was especially strong. Intelligent and articulate he captivated the audiences and, as the tide turned and the anti-war protest claimed the initiative, Ali became a hero of the movement, and although he was no longer the heavyweight champion, he gained a new title, that of ‘The Peoples Champion’. With Malcolm X assassinated (by fellow Nation Of Islam members in 1965), and Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King subsequently assassinated in 1968, it was high-profile black figures like Muhammad Ali and James Brown who the youth looked to for direction and inspiration.

My father, who was into boxing, was a big Ali fan, and although I can’t pinpoint how I got into him myself, I’m presuming it was through my Dad. I have copies of The Ring magazine somewhere, which he owned, with Ali on the cover from the Cassius Clay days, before he was champion.

I’m only aware of his pre-ban fights in retrospect, but I remember watching his comeback fight with Jerry Quarry (another in the long line of boxers dubbed ‘the great white hope’) on TV in 1970, and his following fight with Oscar Bonavena. These led up to his first clash with Joe Frazier, in what was billed as ‘The Fight Of The Century’, in New York on March 8th 1971.

It should be remembered that Ali’s boxing career took place at a time when there were many great heavyweights. Before the ban he had to overcome Archie Moore, Sonny Liston and Floyd Patterson, whilst after it there was Joe Frazier, Ken Norton and George Foreman. All 6 of these adversaries are ‘Hall Of Fame’ inductees (although Moore’s light-heavyweight achievements placed him in this category), and the only subsequent heavyweights to be held in such high regard would be Larry Holmes, Mike Tyson and Lennox Lewis.  This was the golden age of heavyweight boxing.

Frazier had picked up the heavyweight title during Ali’s enforced absence, and when they faced up to each other both fighters were undefeated – the Official Champion Vs the People’s Champion. With a worldwide television audience tuning in, the fight lived up to its billing. Ferociously competitive, it went all the way, but swung on a knockdown in a the final round – it was Ali who was dumped on the canvas for only the 2nd time in his career (the first being by Britain’s Henry Cooper, before he became champion, a fight that Ali would recover to win).

Victory was all the sweeter for Frazier given how Ali had run his mouth off in the lead up to the fight. Ali, a master of mind games, could sometimes overstep the mark in subjecting his opponents to cruel insults, and his treatment of Frazier was particularly cutting, with his adversary continuing to hold a grudge right up until his death last year, despite Ali’s subsequent apologies for his beyond the pale behaviour. At the time we saw it as part of the theatre, but looking back it was often tasteless and ugly.

The loss to Frazier was a major blow. I’d just turned 11 and remember being really upset that this great comeback had been stopped in its tracks, having been whipped up into the fervour of it all during the build-up to this momentous sporting occasion. I watched all of Ali’s big fights at my Nan’s. Initially she wasn’t a fan of his, turned off by his boastfulness, but, seeing how much I was into him, she eventually grew to like him and want him to win (if only so I’d be happy). With many people still referring to him as Cassius Clay, the media included, she used to have trouble remembering his new name, and for a while she’d mistakenly call him Aly Khan (mixing it up with the son of the famous world figure, the Aga Khan).

Two years passed and Ali won 10 more non-title fights, before losing a split decision to Ken Norton, who broke his jaw. It looked like Ali’s career would end in anti-climax, his best days well behind him. I watched the footage of the old 60’s fights, when he was in his prime, and lamented the fact that I’d caught him on the downward spiral.I consoled myself in the belief that having been stripped of the title, the best years of his boxing life had been stolen from him and, but for that, he’d never have been beaten – in short, it just wasn’t fair. He was still very much the People’s Champion for me and millions of others who were mesmerised by his enormous charisma.

As if to slam shut any remaining chink of hope that he could somehow regain his title one day, the great Joe Frazier was literally destroyed by a monster of a fighter, George Foreman, who knocked him around the ring like a rag doll in a 2 round demolition staged in Kingston, Jamaica. Foreman was awesome – Frazier was the 23rd boxer he’d faced who’d failed to meet the 3rd round since he began his professional career in 1969. Following his defeat to Norton, Ali had scraped through a re-match, winning on a split decision 6 months later. However, it was Norton not Ali who was given a shot at Foreman’s title in March ‘74, but ominously, like Frazier before him, he was quickly despatched in a 2nd round knockout. Foreman reigned supreme, and if he was going to re-claim his crown Ali would have to meet his nightmare.

My father died on January 28th 1974, the same day that Ali met Frazier for the 2nd time. I found him dead in the morning - had he lived, that night he’d have certainly been watching Ali gain revenge for his defeat in ’71, setting up another crack at the World title - it was now a case of somehow finding a way to move the immovable object that Foreman represented, and nobody gave Ali a hope in hell. I wonder what my Dad would have made of the Ali Vs Foreman ‘Rumble In The Jungle’ in Kinshasa, Zaire on October 30th 1974 – it’s a shame he never got to see what is regarded as the most legendary fight of all.

To put this into perspective, Ali’s previous 5 fights had all gone the distance, and he’d been anything but convincing in labouring his way to his points victories, whereas you’d have to go back 25 fights before Foreman last went the distance, each of his 8 previous opponents easily defeated within 2 rounds, Frazier and Norton included. Foreman, it seemed, was destined to become the greatest fighter of all-time – he was truly formidable.

The story of this fight of fights was brilliantly told in what is acclaimed by many to be the best sports documentary film ever made, the Academy Award winning ‘When We Were Kings’ (1996). Don’t be put off if boxing isn’t your thing, this is an historic document on many levels, with its life is stranger than fiction twist. I’d also recommend ‘Soul Power’, a parallel documentary that further explores the musical aspect of the event (which is a key feature of ‘When We Were Kings’), a meeting of minds between Africans and African Americans, with performances from some big names in black music, including B.B King, Bill Withers, The (Detroit) Spinners, The Crusaders and, of course, Soul Brother Number One, James Brown.

Dumfounding everyone, casual viewers and boxing critics alike, Ali didn’t dance as he said he would, but for round upon round leant back on the ropes and allowed Foreman to pound his body. It looked suicidal, but, as the fight progressed, we began to see the method in the madness – Foreman was noticeably tiring as he punched himself out. Ali’s ‘rope-a-dope’ is part of boxing’s folklore now, a genius tactic that enabled David to triumph over Goliath. Knowing Foreman couldn’t be out-fought, Ali out-thought him, and, in the 8th round, Foreman visibly weary, Ali did the unthinkable – he came off the ropes and knocked Foreman out.

It was a tale of epic, somewhat mythical, proportions. Ali had outwitted the Cyclops, beheaded the Gorgon and brought down Talos all in one. It had been 7 and a half years since he last stood in the ring as champion, a period that had begun with him exiled from the sport, and then written off on his return, but ultimately prevailing in the most astonishing manner – now he was as great a hero as Odysseus himself. Even the knock down of the deposed champion was poetic, so much so that Ali pulled back on a free shot as Foreman fell in a circular motion, so as not to disturb the aesthetic of the fall.

I was absolutely thrilled to the max – all the emotional energy I’d invested in wanting him to win the title back had been returned with interest. That was obviously the pinnacle of my Ali fan trip, although there were other high points ahead. The 3rd and the most brutal of the Ali / Frazier contests, ‘The Thrilla-In-Manila’, was a fight that many believe brought on the affliction of Parkinson’s syndrome, which Ali was diagnosed as suffering from in 1984, a few years after he finally retired (having fought on longer than many observers believed was wise). Showing boxing at its best, and at its worst, the ‘Thrilla-In-Manila’ isn’t for the squeamish. Ali, the winner, after Frazier was stopped in the penultimate round of 15, would describe it as the closest he’d come to dying. He then re-wrote the records books by becoming the first heavyweight to re-claim the title twice, first losing to Leon Spinks in Feb ’78, before defeating him in the rematch 7 months later.

Things nosedived from there. Ali proudly retired as 3 times champion, but he ended up returning to fight Larry Holmes, his former sparring partner, in 1980, in an attempt to win the title for an unprecedented 4th time. Holmes didn’t read the script though, and, for the first, and only, time in his 20 year career Ali didn’t go the distance. The much younger, stronger Holmes, had first-hand experience of Ali’s style, and dominated his former employer.  Angelo Dundee, Ali’s legendary trainer, refused to let his man come out for the 11th round and take further punishment. Most people agreed, it was a fight that shouldn’t have happened.

I’d just moved to Wigan to take up the residency at The Pier when Ali fought Holmes. I’d obviously hoped he could pull the rabbit out of the hat one more time, but it was clear that the magic was gone. It was really sad to see my idol go out with a whimper rather than a bang.

That was that, at least we hoped it was, but he couldn’t let go and made yet another ill-advised comeback in 1981, taking on the Jamaican-Canadian heavyweight Trevor Berbick. Although a brave Ali saw it through to the end, he was dominated by the young up-and-coming fighter. 5 years later Mike Tyson vowed to exact revenge on Berbick, who’d just become World Champion earlier that year; "I just thought he unmercifully beat the crap out of Ali," Tyson said, "I just thought that he didn't have to do that.  Ali, was absolutely helpless. … Ali couldn't do nothing". Tyson stopped Berbick in the 2nd round to take the title, and a new era in heavyweight boxing was born.

You can’t keep a good man down though, and despite the ravishes of Parkinson’s, he was destined to make one final great sporting appearance, lighting the Olympic flame during the opening ceremony at Atlanta ‘96, his shaking body summoning all its remaining strength as he held the torch aloft to provide the games with its enduring symbol. It brought things full circle - Ali, or Cassius as he was then known, initially coming to people’s attention when he won an Olympic Gold in the Rome games of 1960.

Who could have believed what lay in store for this young Louisville boxer, destined to become not only the most recognizable black man on the planet, but one of its most famous inhabitants full stop.

Muhammed Ali Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muhammad_Ali

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Jimmy Castor

by on 17. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, DJ / Club Culture, Hear, Magazines, Records, The Eighties, The Seventies

Just heard the news that New York born 70’s Funk master Jimmy Castor died yesterday, aged 64.

Recording as The Jimmy Castor Bunch, I first came across them back in 1975 when I picked up a copy of their single ‘The Bertha Butt Boogie’, regarded by many at the time as the quintessential ‘bump’ record. It was a big club tune in the UK back then (as was the follow-up ‘E Man Boogie’), although, as with most Funk tracks, it received no radio support, apart from the more underground specialist Soul shows peppered up and down the country, and completely missed the chart as a result:

YouTube Preview Image
‘The Bertha Butt Boogie’ is included in Music Played In Discotheques, the mix I put together for the Tate Gallery’s Silent Disco in 2009, along with other tracks that define the 72-75 era:
http://soundcloud.com/gregwilson/music-played-in-discotheques-full-length-by-greg-wilson-for-the-tate-gallery

The title track of their 1972 album ‘It’s Just Begun’ would retrospectively become their best-known recording. A Bronx Bboy favourite, this featured during the famous Rock Steady Crew cameo in the worldwide hit movie ‘Flashdance’ (1983), which played a key role in bringing breakdancing to the masses. Check it out here:
http://youtu.be/Q3ZNFGE8PZE

Their biggest hit, however, once again from the ‘It’s Just Begun’ album, was a genius track called ‘Trogladyte (Caveman)’, which kicks in with the much sampled ‘what we’re gonna do right here is go back, way back, back into time’, before we hear about the average caveman and his adventures, leading him to a memorable encounter with Bertha Butt, one of the Butt Sisters. Too frantic to play out, ‘Trogladyte’ was one of those tracks I’d often put on (filed under mad as toast, and on a very thin, almost floppy, RCA pressing) when I was playing tunes at home for friends, knowing they’d have never heard anything quite like it. This was a million-seller in the US, peaking at #6 on the chart, and was also, of course, the inspiration behind ‘The Birtha Butt Boogie’ a few years on. Feast your ears here:
http://youtu.be/VlRXQEA0yj0

Must dig out the issue of Grand Slam magazine from 2004, which included a great article about Jimmy Castor, telling his story, in ‘way back, back into time’ style, with the piece cleverly written in reverse. Grand Slam, arising from the ashes of Big Daddy magazine, was a top read, but unfortunately a short-lived publication.

Jimmy Castor Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Castor

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Confused, Misused And In The Dark

by on 13. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, DVD, The Eighties, The Fifties, The Seventies, The Sixties, Video

The photo above shows a man walking down the street past a wall that’s been sprayed with some graffiti - it says ‘Powell For P.M’. I’d imagine that most people under a certain age would completely miss the relevance of this image, having no idea who this Powell was. Maybe they might pick up on the clue that it has some reference to race, as the man in the picture is black, but without understanding the context its message has been lost with the passage of time. Anyone looking at it in the years following the milestone date of April 20th 1968 would be left in no doubt of its potency, but whilst children in British schools are now taught about Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks and key aspects of the US Civil Rights movement during the 50’s and 60’s, the story of what happened in this country, following the mass immigration of the post-war period, remains a largely hidden history. Without the knowledge of what went on back then, it’s impossible to properly understand what’s going on now, for Enoch Powell MP, and what he had to say in Birmingham that fateful April day almost 44 years ago (which, at the time, a Gallup poll told us was supported by almost three quarters of the UK population), set the agenda for the race debate in this country – a heated debate which has very much reignited in the past few months.

The issue of racism is well and truly back in the news following recent events - the Stephen Lawrence trial, the murder of Anuj Bidve, an Indian student in Salford, the ‘My Tram Experience’ YouTube clip, the Suffolk ‘gollywog in the window’ case, the Diane Abbott ‘divide and rule’ tweet, and, of course, a whole series of football related incidents, which have blown-up to a level that few could have envisaged when I made my  ‘Racism In English Football’ post just a few months ago, at the end of October: http://www.gregwilson.co.uk/2011/10/racism-in-english-football/

Amidst all the ensuing debate, one of the themes that has become apparent is that there are a lot of people in this country who seem to be totally unaware as to what constitutes racism - there’s a genuine confusion as to which words would be deemed racially abusive and which wouldn’t. It’s this lack of education that needs urgently addressing, for, in a zero-tolerance society, ignorance is not going to be accepted as a valid excuse.

"You’re never going to have any kind of understanding of what’s going on in black people’s lives unless you actually get out and meet some.” Anderson Hinds 1991

This is a quote that gets right to the core of the matter. If you want to find out what would be insulting to someone of a different ethnicity, ask them. It’s this type of dialogue that’s essential if, as a society, we’re going to properly clarify things, leaving everyone in no doubt as to what’s unacceptable in this multicultural nation of ours.

Anderson Hinds, aka Dangerous Hinds of the Ruthless Rap Assassins, spoke those simple, yet still substantial words of wisdom in an BBC radio interview, which I sampled for the crew’s 1991 album ‘Th!nk – It Ain’t Illegal Yet’.  Anderson would teach me much about the prejudices that black people faced in their day to day lives back in the late 80’s / early 90’s when I managed and produced the Assassins, both via his lyrics and, even more importantly, our personal interaction.

My own take on the issue of race has mainly come from listening, directly and indirectly, to what black people have to say - initially via the lyrics of songs from the 60’s and 70’s. In 2009, Berlin based DJ and writer Finn Johannsen asked me to pick a record that has strong personal associations for his ‘Sounds Like Me’ blog. I went for ‘Ball Of Confusion (That’s What The World Is Today)’, a key single of my formative years by The Temptations, and, as I mentioned in my blog post about this last April here, he came back with a whole heap of insightful questions that really caused me to get deep into my reasons behind this selection, including my views on its socio-political relevance, which outlined my earliest memories of how issues of race affected me:

I was just a kid, aged 10 when this was released, fresh out of primary school, but, despite my obvious naïveté, tracks like this, along with others including Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’, Marvin Gaye’s recording of  ‘Abraham, Martin And John’, Edwin Starr’s ‘War’ (another Norman Whitfield / Barrett Strong composition, originally recorded by The Temptations, Starr’s version also produced by Whitfield) and even stuff like ‘Love Child’ by The Supremes and Clarence Carter’s ‘Patches’, really struck a chord with me at the time and got me thinking about deeper issues. This is a perfect illustration of the power of music to inform, although the main connection was on an emotional rather than an intellectual level – Soul music, even when the lyrics weren’t really saying anything poignant, could still affect me in a profound way.

I remember thinking ‘how can these people be treated so badly when they make such wonderful music’. I was certainly aware of the racist (or racialist as they said back then) attitude that black people were somehow lesser than whites – Enoch Powell’s infamous ‘Rivers Of Blood’ speech had taken place a few years earlier and I’d no doubt picked up on the race / immigration debate via the TV, newspapers and overhearing peoples’ conversations on the subject, it was certainly a hot potato of an issue back then.

Although I didn’t know any black people at the time, unlike many others of my age I fortunately wasn’t burdened with the ignorance and prejudice of the previous generation. I never heard any racist remarks from my family, to the contrary, my father was a big boxing fan and his hero was Muhammad Ali (going back to when he was still Cassius Clay), so my own first impression of a black man was totally positive.

I think it was my sister who explained racism to me, and the whole thing crystallized via these remarkable records, which connected with me on a deeper level than the music by white Pop artists (which I was also very much into) because I realized, at a very young age, that this Soul music was tied into a greater struggle.

Full interview: http://www.sounds-like-me.com/news/rewind-greg-wilson-on-ball-of-confusion/

The next part of my personal education came via one of my biggest heroes, the late great Richard Pryor, who, back in the 70’s, told it like it was in his seminal stand-up routines, which boldly punctuated the laughs with hard hitting truths. Uncompromising in his examination of racism, Pryor didn’t pull any punches – an ultra-streetwise teacher, he was a massive influence on all who followed - Eddie Murphy, Bill Hicks and Chris Rock included.

His live albums weren’t released in this country, so most people in the UK knew him via his acting appearances, especially those opposite Gene Wilder in the comedies ‘The Silver Streak’ (1976), ‘Stir Crazy’ (1980), and later ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil’ (1989). These were a world apart from his no holds barred live recordings, which I discovered when I met English DJ’s Nicky Flavell, Paul Rae and Primus, during the month I spent in Skien, Norway in 1978. We would often sit in their accommodation listening to Pryor’s albums, ‘That Nigger’s Crazy’ (1974), ‘Is It Something I Said’ (1975) and ‘Bicentennial Nigger’ (1976), which they’d picked up on their travels. Before I returned to the UK I’d copy these to cassette

His ‘Live In Concert’ performance, from Long Beach, California in 1979, is described by many as the greatest stand-up routine ever recorded, which is something I’d certainly concur with. This was broadcast on Channel 4 soon after the station launched in 1982, and I managed to capture it on my newly acquired video player. That VHS tape was played within an inch of its life, and I could probably still recite the entire show word for word. I eventually replaced this about 7 or 8 years ago with a pristine re-mastered DVD recording – just checked on Amazon and they have copies for a ridiculously bargain basement £2.99: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Richard-Pryor-Live-concert-DVD/dp/B0002475ZC

Pryor’s scattergun use of the N-word helped to disempower it as a racist slur, the black community claiming it as their own, although later, after a trip to Kenya, he swore he would never use the word in his stand-up routine again. He recalled; “When I was in Africa, this voice came to me and said, "Richard, what do you see?" I said, I see all types of people." The voice said, "But do you see any niggers?" I said, "No." It said, "Do you know why? 'Cause there aren't any."

His book, ‘Pryor Convictions’, is a must read, and his recordings, both audio and visual, are a lasting document to black self-awareness throughout the harsh and turbulent realities of the post-Civil Rights period.

Back to Anderson Hinds who, along with Kermit and his brother Carson, taught me much about institutional racism (a term coined by Black Panther, Stokely Carmichael, in the late 60s), which I witnessed up close during the years the crew was signed to EMI. By 1990 / 1991, when their albums were released, the racism was less overt, but scratch slightly beneath the surface and you saw the obstacles that were still continually placed in their way. Changing the minds of individuals is one thing, but changing whole systems and organisations takes a lot longer.

Anderson had a very firm but fair way of looking at things – he was strong in his condemnation of racist action in its various forms, but understood that much of this was purely down to ignorance. He’d give someone a second chance, but not a third one.

His lyrics, especially those on his best-known compositions, the singles ‘Justice (Just Us)’ and ‘And It Wasn’t A Dream’, are testament to his social insight. ‘Justice’ deals directly with the issues of institutional racism that affected the black community, whilst ‘And It Was A Dream’ was a heartfelt ode to his parent’s generation, and their naïve belief that emigrating to England would bring them a better life (in 2006 it’s quintessential Englishness was recognized when Mojo Magazine named it as one of ‘The 50 Greatest British Tracks Ever’, alongside classics including ‘Penny Lane’ / The Beatles, ‘Itchycoo Park’ / The Small Faces, ‘God Save The Queen’ / The Sex Pistols, ‘Wuthering Heights’ / Kate Bush, ‘Ghost Town’ / The Specials and ‘Common People’ / Pulp).

I’ve written about ‘And It Wasn’t A Dream’ elsewhere in the blog, in last year’s ‘Killer Album’ here and ‘Where Were You In 1990?’ here posts, but I should draw attention to a key line in the track, where he’s talking about how people who were renting out accommodation back then would put signs in the window saying ‘No Irish No Blacks’ (and, for full dehumanising impact, sometimes throwing in ‘No Dogs’ for good measure). By highlighting this, Anderson referenced the fact that, whilst black people couldn’t avoid being subjected to racial insult, exactly because of their skin colour, racism wasn’t exclusively aimed at blacks. Although the Irish could blend in as far as skin tone was concerned, the moment they opened their mouths they also opened themselves up to a barrage of abuse and the threat of violence. This was a shared experience that many people of Irish descent had never previously considered. Marian Buckley, then a writer for Manchester’s City Life magazine, whose parents were Irish, spoke eloquently on the subject in an interview filmed for the 1991 Channel 4 documentary about the Rap Assassins, also called ‘And It Wasn’t A Dream’ – her incisive words can be heard between 3.24 – 7.03 in the clip below:
http://youtu.be/IRFDIsPL7cI

You can watch the video to ‘And It Wasn’t A Dream’ here:
http://youtu.be/2G6Lzm5SZSg

Although racism wasn’t prevalent in my home environment, there was no avoiding it in the schoolyard where it was within earshot right from the get go, via the children’s counting rhyme ‘Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe’. In this way, words and phrases can be planted into your mind, words that you don’t understand the full weight of until later down the line, when you realise that they’re not quite as harmless as they appear on the surface and carry a much more sinister undertone once you take time out to stop to think about them, or when others point out your unintentional insensitivity.

Back in 1983, at a time when I was fully embroiled in the black scene, I remember an instance with Kermit, in the pre-Rap Assassins days, when he was a member of the later to become legendary Manchester breakdance crew, Broken Glass, who I then managed (in addition to my DJ work). I love him to bits, but, by nature, Kermit can stretch your patience to the limit and, one time, whilst I was trying to get him to hurry up for something or other, exasperated, I said to him ’c’mon Kermit, play the white man’, which was a phrase that I’d never realised had racist connotations, despite the fact that it’s so obvious once you consider it. I’d always though that it was purely a quirky way of saying ‘c’mon, be fair’.

Kermit didn’t say a thing, but just looked at me with raised eyebrows. The penny didn’t drop for a couple of seconds and, confused, I asked ‘what?’ He still remained stony silent. Then I got it – it was like looking from the other side of the mirror for the first time. I immediately apologised, but there was no bad feeling – he understood that there was nothing untoward meant by my comment, but by the same token I needed to sink into my skull the reason why this is a term that would no longer pass my lips. ‘Indian giver’, is another example - this goes back to the European settlement of North America in the 1700’s, and implies that Native Americans weren’t to be trusted, as they’d give you a gift, but then want it back.

Then there was a time that my friend Christine Quarless picked me up on using the term ‘half-caste’ in reference to someone of mixed-race (or, as others prefer to describe themselves, dual heritage). This was a surprise for me because I’d heard plenty of black people use the term myself. As someone of mixed parentage, she pointed out the negative association with the term, dating back to colonialism. The fact she found it personally offensive was enough for me to know that whoever might use it, white or black, it wouldn’t be me any longer.

What gets me is when people try to argue these points with someone who’s telling them they’re affronted, more or less accusing them of over-sensitivity, which is pretty belittling to say the least. It’s those people who are but an embarrassingly patronising breath away from repeating another much quoted children’s rhyme, which, as the years go by, we come to realise, like Santa and the Tooth Fairy, belongs to that more innocent time in our lives  – ‘Sticks And Stones Will Break My Bones But Words Will Never Hurt Me’.

Once you have the knowledge that the words you use would be regarded as offensive to some people, by continuing to use them, even in the company of those who wouldn’t feel personal insult, is a knowingly racist act.

It’s all about education - the germ of insult is largely spread in ignorance, and few of us can claim never to have spouted out opprobrious shit about someone who doesn’t look / talk /act the same as we do. It’s only when we feel shame for this type of conditioned behaviour that we can begin to combat it in ourselves, de-programming whatever it was in the past that would make such inappropriate words come of our mouths.

Whether people like it or not, Britain is a multicultural nation and will remain that way. It would do us well to try to comprehend the trials and tribulations of our fellow citizens who’ve suffered, and continue to suffer abuse and discrimination because of their skin colour and / or religious differences. Only then can we set about the task of fully integrating, embracing diversity and building communities where all are allowed to properly contribute in an atmosphere of mutual respect. This open-mindedness and human empathy would surely serve to enrich our culture no end as we contemplate the fresh challenges of the 21st century.

Rivers Of Blood Speech Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rivers_of_Blood_speech

Ball Of Confusion Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ball_of_Confusion_(That's_What_the_World_Is_Today)

Richard Pryor Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Pryor

And It Wasn’t A Dream Lyrics:
http://www.rapassassins.f9.co.uk/lyr_wsnt.htm

Multiculturalism Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiculturalism

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Eve Arnold

by on 10. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, Fashion, Photography, The Fifties, The Sixties

The acclaimed American photojournalist, Eve Arnold, died last week at the grand old age of 99. Best known for her photographs of Marilyn Monroe (taken over a 10 year period), especially those on the set of her final film, ‘The Misfits’ (1961), she had unrivalled access to the movie icon with her shots, often candid, capturing the human side of the Hollywood legend.

Lesser known are the photos she took in Harlem, including (below) Josephine Baker, Elijah Muhammad & Malcolm X, and the model Charlotte Stribling (aka ‘Fabulous’).

Arnold’s photo of Charlotte Stribling, who appears to be one of the most popular black models of her age, stands in sharp contrast to her work with Marilyn Monroe, one of the most photographed women of the 20th century. I find it sad that so little is known about someone who was obviously such a shining star within the community in which she lived. She has no Wikipedia entry, and there are only 2 photographs of her I can find online. The only information I came across was via the Black Studies Database, along with the other photo I mentioned (not by Eve Arnold as far as I’m aware):

The African American model Charlotte Stribling, or “Fabulous” as she was known, relaxes during a fashion show in Harlem’s Abyssinian Church, 1950. During this period Harlem hosted an average of 300 fashion shows a year, many of them showcasing clothes that the models themselves or local seamstresses had made. Many of the shows became both a subtle form of protest at the white fashion industry located in and around New York’s Seventh Avenue, and a source of great pride in local black industry. “Fabulous” had a huge personal following and was one of the most sought after models in the area. The Abyssinian Church itself had been a center for the Civil Rights Movement, particularly under the pastorship of Rev. Dr. Adam Clayton Powell, Sr.

Eve Arnold died in London, where she’d lived since the 60’s, on January 4th.

Eve Arnold Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eve_Arnold

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Year Of Decision

by on 06. Jan, 2012 in Black Culture, DJ / Club Culture, DJ Appearances, Hear, Misc, Records, The Seventies

 Yes, this is the year

To make your decision

(We gotta get it together)

Yes this is the year

To open up your mind.

Gamble & Huff 1973

On New Year’s Eve, for the first time since I started up again, I was deejaying as one year passed into the next. Although I’ve had bookings every New Year’s Eve since 2004, I’ve always played after midnight, but this year I made 2 separate appearances in London, the first at the Slide & Get Diverted party in the Brixton Clubhouse between 11pm and 1am (my later date, from 3am and 5am would be over in Greenwich at the Defected event at Proud2 in the O2 Arena).

Back in the 70’s, like pretty much every other DJ of the time, I’d bring in the New Year with ‘Auld Lang Syne’, as was traditional as 12 o’clock struck. The version I used was from an album called ‘Celebration Party Dances (For Every Occasion)’ by the British bandleader Victor Silvester, which was an indispensable mobile disco LP back then, covering the type of stuff the older folk of that generation would have regarded as essential fuel for a proper knees-up.

During the 20 years I wasn’t a DJ I never went out to a club on New Year’s Eve, so it was with a tint of sadness that I realised that ‘Auld Lang Syne’ no longer got an airing, at least in the clubs where I was booked in to, the DJ instead selecting a classic oldie as their first tune of the year (T-Connection’s ‘At Midnight’ seemingly a popular choice). This is with the notable exception of one club night, the mighty Melting Pot in Glasgow, where I was pleased to hear tradition still preserved. Graeme Clark (The Revenge) was on, and although he didn’t play ‘Auld Lang Syne’, he marked the moment with a suitably Scottish Highland Reel.

Hogmanay is, of course, something the Scottish hold so dear, with the writer of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, Robert Burns, revered as the country’s most celebrated poet, and recently voted the greatest all-time Scot. The song has ushered in the New Year since the 1800’s, and stands strong as a poignant symbol of endings and new beginnings.

It’s opening line ‘Should auld / old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind’ reminds us of what came before, especially those friends and family no longer with us, who perhaps we once joined hands with at midnight in younger days. I think this link to the ancestors is important – looking back on where we came from and, in a sense, grounding ourselves before moving on into the year ahead and wherever destiny takes us. One day, of course, we’ll be the ancestors – we’re all part of life’s process, and in the future it’ll be us who will be ‘brought to mind’ by those who come after. Anyhow, before morbid sentimentality is levelled at me, I’d better lighten the mood and play out of this paragraph with a distinguished piper:

So, back to NYE and, knowing I was the midnight DJ, I was faced with the question of what to play? Ringing out the old and bringing in the new carries a weight of responsibility – you don’t want to get it wrong when the whole objective is setting the year off on the right footing. With all due respect to the DJ’s who do play ‘At Midnight’ at midnight, that would never be the tune for me. Don’t get me wrong, ‘At Midnight’ is a decent enough track, but it’s not specific to January 1st and wouldn’t be out of place on any other night of the year. I wanted something befitting of a special celebration that only comes around annually.

I thought about a track that might fit the bill, and remembered how I’d always enjoyed the positive message of ‘Year Of Decision’, an upbeat Philly Sound favourite that was the first UK hit for The Three Degrees, reaching #13 in 1974, just 3 months before the trio topped the chart with their most famous single, ‘When Will I See You Again’ (to complete a hat-trick, between these 2 singles they also saw chart success with a featured credit on MFSB’s ‘TSOP (The Sound Of Philadelphia)’, the anthem of this era defining label, and the theme tune for the seminal US TV show, ‘Soul Train’. In short, they were on a roll.

‘The Year Of Decision’ was written and produced by label founders Kenny Gamble & Leon Huff, who were responsible for a phenomenal run of hits during Philadelphia International’s 1972-1977 heyday  - just check out this wealth of Philly gold, all UK Top 40 hits, which the prolific duo both produced and wrote / co-wrote (22 in all): ‘Backstabbers’ / The O’Jays (1973), ‘Darlin’ Darlin’ Baby (Sweet, Tender, Love) / The O’Jays (1977), ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’ / Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes (1977)’, ‘Get Your Love Back’ / The Three Degrees (1974), ‘If You Don’t Know Me By Now’ / Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes (1973), ‘I Love Music’ / The O’Jays (1976), ‘I’ll Always Love My Mama’ / The Intruders (1974), ‘Let’s Make A Baby’ / Billy Paul (1976), ‘Long Lost Lover’ / The Three Degrees (1975), ‘Love Train’ / The O’Jays (1973), ‘Me And Mrs Jones’ / Billy Paul (1973), ‘Satisfaction Guaranteed (Or Take Your Love Back)’ / Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes (1974) ‘Sexy’ / MFSB (1975), ‘Show You The Way To Go’ / The Jacksons (1977), ‘Take Good Care Of Yourself’  / The Three Degrees (1975),‘Thanks For Saving My Life’ / Billy Paul (1974), ‘The Love I Lost’ / Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes (1974), ‘TSOP (The Sound Of Philadelphia)’ / MFSB Featuring The Three Degrees (1974), ‘When Will I See You Again / The Three Degrees (1974)’, ‘Win, Place Or Show (She’s A Winner)’ / The Intruders (1974) ‘Year Of Decision / The Three Degrees (1974) and ‘You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine’ / Lou Rawls (1976). Leon Huff even found time to branch out on his own with the Funk anthem ‘Do It Anyway You Wanna’ / Peoples Choice (1975).

Gamble & Huff’s work during the early-mid 70’s provided one of the main branches of the tree from which Disco grew. As the legendary JB’s / P Funk trombonist Fred Wesley famously said, ‘the Gamble & Huff style put a bow tie on the funk’.

So, ‘Year Of Decision’ was a strong possibility for my New Year tune, it both had the right message, and Disco association, but, given my feelings about ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and the whole custom that surrounds it, I found myself drawn towards playing it after all, with ‘Year Of Decision’ following on. Having fixed on this, I looked online for a suitable version and found one by the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards, the pipe and drum ensemble who hit the top of the UK chart with their rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ in 1972. Starting out as a march, it rocks out after half a minute in a suitably rousing fashion. It’s total length was around 2 minutes, but I edited this down to 1.15, which was just enough, adding some signature samples over the top to give it a more bespoke feel, including Public Enemy’s request that ‘everybody in the house make some noise’ as the rock part kicked in, and the Cyrus spoken ‘can you dig it’ (x3) from the 1979 film ‘The Warriors’. As ‘Auld Lang Syne’ finished, ‘Year Of Decision’ took over.

I’d planned to embed a YouTube clip of ‘Year Of Decision’, but just checked and it’s frustratingly no longer available. It was a version I hadn’t heard before – an extension of the original, with a longer intro and a break ahead of the outro. It wasn’t the album version (which is the same length as the single), so I’d no idea where it was from. I made a few enquiries via a text to JJ from London-based Six Million Steps, a bona-fide 70’s Soul aficionado, and an email to New Yorker Jay Negron (aka J*ski), who’s just co-compiled the new album ‘Philadelphia International: The Re-Edits’, with my old mate Ian Dewhirst. Neither knew this version I’d found on YouTube, at which point I realised that it must be an un-credited edit that someone had put together, rather than an official version I was unaware of.  I really liked the additional space of the extended intro and break, so I set about re-creating it myself (the break, as it turned out, was simply 4x4 bars taken from the intro). In the absence of the YouTube clip I’d intended, here’s my ‘A Quick New Year’s Message’ from SoundCloud, with the extended ‘Year Of Decision’ providing the soundtrack (excuse the voiceover at the intro):

http://soundcloud.com/gregwilson/a-quick-new-year-message

Having made such an impact on the UK chart in 1973, The Three Degrees  would go on to record a string of British hits throughout the decade, long after their popularity had waned Stateside.  They parted company with Gamble & Huff / Philadelphia International in 1976, and their credibility suffered when Prince Charles announced them as his favourite group, and had them play at his 30th birthday party in 1978 (although his royal patronage made them darlings of the British media well into the 80’s, helping sustain their career long past it's US sell by date). Sadly, a group who had once worked with the great Gamble & Huff, would be reduced to recording with British producers, Stock, Aitkin & Waterman, who swamped the chart with syrupy formulaic hits throughout the late 80’s and early 90’s, via Kylie Minogue, Jason Donovan, Sonia, Rick Astley etc (The Three Degrees best SAW placing being a disappointing #42 for ‘The Heaven I Need’, in 1987 – the last of their 12 UK Top 50 hits, 13 including their featured role on ‘TSOP’).

So, with this important decision arrived at, on the stroke of midnight all those congregated in the Brixton Clubhouse celebrated our entry into 2012 with ‘Auld Lang Syne’, and the room suitably bounced. ‘Year Of Decision’ then followed and I dug back into the 70’s for a while, re-connecting with days long passed, before moving on to some more recent favourites.

I believe this really is a year of decision for many of us – a time to re-assess our aims and objectives and set them into motion, not through some lacklustre resolution we're going to have forgotten well before February, but through necessity.

Issues of recession, corruption and abuse of power, race, religion, riots and revolution play out at home and overseas, and whereas in recent times the majority of the populace seem to have chosen to switch off to the bigger picture, preferring to sedate themselves with reality TV, talent shows, sports coverage and soap opera, an ever growing amount of people are waking up to the harsher realities and seeing the world more objectively as a result, with the ‘Chinese curse’, ‘may you live in interesting times’,  taking on a new contemporary resonance.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep focus amidst the chaotic fog of information overload, which Facebook, Twitter and other social networks churn out at breakneck pace – it’s impossible to keep up with everything going on, there simply aren’t enough hours in the day. There’s no doubt we’re being sucked into the future at speed, so hold on tight, it could be a bumpy ride, a turbulent time for a lot of people. But remember, on the other side of the coin, this will also enable opportunity for others.

I’m a glass half-full type, so, despite being disturbed by much of what I see going on, I feel that once the dust has settled, things will work themselves out for the better. We’re still trying to figure out how to adapt to this cyber-existence, and it may serve us well to keep remembering that there’s a real world out there, with real people, not just Facebook friends. I’m fortunate that my work takes me into contact with a wide range of people, from different parts of the globe. I feed off this human energy, and am able to reciprocate via the music I play. I try to retain this personal connection, to the best of my ability, with my online interactions. I suppose that the part-human / part-machine cyborg future is already upon us, for our computers have become an extension of ourselves. With this in mind, I believe we need to keep the emphasis on the human, not the machine.

I hope that 2012 is kind to you, wherever you be, whatever you do. I certainly feel that this will be a telling time, as the ‘culture of steam’ moves ever closer to boiling point. Big changes are on the horizon for sure – it’s just a case of whether you’re someone to whom change is welcomed or change is feared, for this will inform the choices you make, and how you adapt to the unknown adventures ahead.

So, to quote ‘Auld Lang Syne’, I raise my ‘cup of kindness’ to you all (Baileys, if you wondered) and wish you peace, love, happiness and good times as the year unfolds.

Auld Lang Syne Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auld_Lang_Syne

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Living To Music – The Stone Roses ‘The Stone Roses’

by on 21. Dec, 2011 in Art & Design, CD’s / Digital, DJ / Club Culture, DJ Appearances, Hear, Living To Music, Manchester, Merseyside, Photography, Psychedelia, Records, The Beatles, The Eighties, The Nineties

ARTIST: THE STONE ROSES

ALBUM: THE STONE ROSES

LABEL: SILVERTONE

YEAR: 1989

On New Years Day at 9pm, you’re invited to share a listening session with some likeminded souls, wherever you might be. This can be experienced either alone or communally, and you don’t need to leave the comfort of your own home to participate. Full lowdown here:
http://www.gregwilson.co.uk/2010/06/living-to-music/

As we enter 2012 I thought this would be the ideal Living To Music choice to kick off the year, especially given that the first Sunday in January is also the first day of a new year. This highly acclaimed and much-loved 1989 LP, which perfectly caught the mood of the times, provides us with the opportunity to re-visit the past, whilst looking ahead to the summer. When an announcement was made earlier this year, that The Stone Roses are to re-form for 2 shows at Manchester’s Heaton Park in June 2012 (with a 3rd later added), there was genuine intrigue and anticipation. This wasn’t a case of another comeback cash-in, but something more symbolic. If ever there was a band with unfinished business to accomplish, it’s The Stone Roses.

I first came across them in the summer of 1989. I was living in London at the time, sharing a house in Wembley with Brian Cannon, a young graphic designer fresh from his degree course in Leeds, who I knew from my time in Wigan (I’d first come across him in 1984 via a graffiti piece he’d sprayed on a Wigan wall). I’d brought him in to work on the Ruthless Rap Assassins, who I was managing and producing. The Assassins had signed to EMI, and the first of their 2 albums would appear the following year – see: http://www.gregwilson.co.uk/2010/07/killer-album. It was Brian who brought The Stone Roses’ music into the house, initially 12” releases like ‘Sally Cinnamon’, ‘Elephant Stone’ and ‘Made Of Stone’, and then this wonderful album.

It was during the mid-late 80’s that my Beatles obsession was it its height and I eagerly absorbed everything I could that was associated with them. ‘The Stone Roses’ evoked that mid-60’s Beatles / Byrds sound, although, paradoxically, it didn’t feel nostalgic, but fresh, vibrant and here, now. It perfectly linked back to that long-lost 60’s ethos, whilst appealing to the Acid House generation, who might be dancing to repetitive beats in the clubs, but were likely to be chilling out afterwards listening to this inspirational long player. It also caught the moment when LSD temporarily re-appeared at the cusp of British youth culture – a far cheaper alternative to ecstasy, which was selling for between £15-£20, whilst acid was only a couple of quid for a spaced out 8+ hour trip (ecstasy was, however, regarded as far more conducive to clubbing, so once the price came down, acid soon disappeared).

By tuning me into The Stone Roses, and the Happy Mondays for that matter, Brian was, in a sense, reciprocating, for a few years earlier I’d sat him down to listen to my recently discovered big obsession when he came to visit me in Liverpool. ‘What have you got for me this time?’ he said, ‘The Beatles’ said I, ‘The Beatles?’ he repeated with a bemused expression that asked ‘have you gone totally mad?’ (it would be almost a decade before Oasis made it cool to be into The Beatles again). ‘Just sit and listen’ I told him. He did, and during the years ahead he’d absorb all the references that would serve him so well later down the line, when he hooked-up with another Beatles obsessive, Noel Gallagher, becoming the designer for Oasis, and a key member of the band’s inner-circle. He’d met Noel at 23 New Mount Street in Manchester, where I’d opened my Murdertone office on moving back up North in 1990, the Rap Assassins, of course, being from the city. Noel then worked for the Inspiral Carpets, who also had an office in the building, then, in many respects, the creative hub for Manchester’s small but vibrant music business. With the Rap Assassins album imminent, Brian took an office next to mine, he’d call his company Microdot, a name I suggested to him (it was a type of trip doing the rounds in Manchester at the time). Microdot, which later re-located to London, will be forever associated with the Britpop movement, with an in-demand Brian designing sleeves not only for Oasis, but The Verve, Cast, Suede, and others. Only last month he picked up Lifetime Achievement recognition for his work at the Annual Design Awards.

Just the other day, I was up in the loft rummaging around when I came across the cassette I made for Brian on that aforementioned mid-80’s night in Liverpool, which must have come back into my possession when we shared the house in London – a compilation called ‘My Very 1st Beatle Tape’:

Back to the Roses. It's easy to forget that this is an album that barely crept into the top 20 of the UK chart when it was first released back in 1989 - its peak position of number 5 not being achieved until 20 years later, in 2009. Back then, as Madchester was, for those of us fortunate enough to experience it directly, the centre of the musical universe, it felt like the Stone Roses were the biggest band in the land, when in reality this was all about the underground breaking gradually into mainstream consciousness. To consider the album in this context helps capture its essence, as an absolute breath of fresh air, which, although echoing the 60's, perfectly encapsulated the era in which it was made, with all its energy, ecstasy and experimentation.

Their implosion is the stuff of legend, as the band, and all the dreams wrapped up in them, slowly unravelled. In short, having taken 5 years to record the all-important follow-up album, ‘Second Coming’, they’d let the grass grow under their feet and the new kids on the block, Oasis, a group that readily cited their influence, rode off into the sunset of superstardom many thought was the destination the Roses had mapped out before them.

During the early 90’s I often worked out of Square One Studios in Bury, where the Roses were camped out, and it was clear to everyone that there were big problems. With the pressure of expectation acute, the muse was hiding away and the group dynamic became increasingly unhealthy. It was a negative spiral, and their producer, John Leckie, eventually lost patience and jumped ship, with the band subsequently re-locating to Monmouth, where the album was finally completed – unfortunately, about 4 years too late.

Despite only recording the 2 albums, they left a huge legacy, their debut album regularly coming high up, and even topping, the best ever lists here in the UK. Like many, my greatest personal memory of the group was the almost mythical Spike Island gathering on 27th May 1990 (I also attended their infamous press conference the night before, which was hugely entertaining). I spent the event in the guest enclosure in a suitably ecstatic state - it was a 'Go Bang' moment when it felt like I was with all my friends at once (certainly a wonderful grouping of them, including Brian Cannon, musician / journalist John Robb, who would later write a book about the band, and Ian Tilton, whose photographs adorn the sleeve of their debut album). I described the day in Sarah Champion's book, ‘And God Created Manchester’ (1990), as 'like being in the Garden Of Eden' – it was far out, as the hippies used to say;  the peak of that magical Madchester vibe that would soon turn sour.

I touched on this previously in the ‘Where Were You In 1990’ post in Oct 10:
http://www.gregwilson.co.uk/2010/10/where-were-you-in-1990/

There’s a short piece about Spike Island here from 2003’s ‘Live Forever Britpop documentary:
http://youtu.be/7mpBD1Gi_0E

The Stone Roses will always have a special place in the hearts of those of us who lived those heady rave on days in the rainy city, when their music became ingrained into our being. In Dec 07 I was the final DJ, bar the residents, to play at Manchester’s now fabled Electric Chair – one of the city’s most important club nights in recent memory (more here: http://www.gregwilson.co.uk/2011/10/manchester-vibes-in-the-area/). I wanted to finish off with a track that truly summoned up the spirit of Manchester, and settled on ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ – an ethereal anthem from an era that placed the city at the forefront of popular culture. Whilst ‘Fools Gold’ is obviously the Roses track most geared to the dancefloor, ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ evoked the unity evident in that E’d up epoch, subsequently echoing through to the Electric Chair and still dearly cherished by those who experienced it first hand, whilst becoming a source of continued fascination for those who didn’t. Thankfully I can say ‘I was there’, and when I played ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ that night, 18 years on, I knew that the same memories resonated strongly with others - only a great album can be of its time whilst, paradoxically, remaining timeless, and ‘The Stone Roses’ certainly fits this description hand in glove and deserves all the adoration it generates.

Your own thoughts are always welcomed, and, should you join us for Sunday’s session, it’d be great if you could leave a comment here after you’ve listened to the album sharing your impressions – how the music affected you, who you listened to it with, where you were, plus anything else relevant to your own individual / collective experience.

The Stone Roses Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Stone_Roses_(album)

Living To Music Event Page:
https://www.facebook.com/events/162931570475471/

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Christmas Classics

by on 21. Dec, 2011 in Animation, DVD, Film, Misc, My First / My Favourite, TV

12 months ago, in the post ‘A Christmas Gift For You’, I related one of my favourite aspects of Christmas – how it provides the opportunity for me to give an annual listen or two to the seasonal masterpiece, ‘A Christmas Gift For You’ (aka ‘Phil Spector’s Christmas Album’). http://www.gregwilson.co.uk/2010/12/a-christmas-gift-for-you/

By the same token, the festive season has its own special movies that are always good to watch again, no matter how often you’ve seen them before, because they embody the spirit of Christmas, connecting you right back to your younger self, when the magic shone brightest.

I’m of the generation that grew up enjoying the Frank Capra 1949 classic ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ on TV every year. One of the most beloved of all American films, it was remarkably a box office flop that only gained full recognition in the 1970s, following annual Christmas TV repeats.

There are also those films that always seem to be on at this time of year, which, once again, evoke your childhood days and remain with you down the years, always held in deep affection. Mine would have to be ‘Jason And The Argonauts’ (1963), which drew from Greek mythology and was especially noted for its incredible Ray Harryhausen’s stop motion animation, which, in a world where computers now provide boundless possibilities, still inspires wonder (perhaps even more than ever given the limitations of the time in which it was made). Case in point – the famed skeleton fight: http://youtu.be/JlFjNVTiI1c

So, which films take you back to Christmas past?

It’s A Wonderful Life Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It's_a_Wonderful_Life

Jason And The Argonauts Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jason_and_the_Argonauts_(1963_film)

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