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FUZZ It needs more. The Freakbeat Era
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Although it would be a couple of years before they charted again in the U.S., in Britain their ragged brand of rock kept going strong, as the decidedly lustful "I Can't Control Myself” (a song deemed so suggestive that it was banned from radio in some countries) and "Anyway That You Want Me" rounded out their 1966 successes. Curiously enough, the following year, as music changed, their big hit was the ballad "Love Is All Around," once again a simple song that was heartfelt enough to fit in with the early psychedelia through its open spirit. It couldn't continue too long, of course. Music was becoming more sophisticated, and sophistication wasn't one of the Troggs' virtues; they'd hardly have been a garage band otherwise. But they were probably the most successful of any of the garage hands on either side of the Atlantic. While they might not have defined freakbeat - and no one did, really - they were among its greatest exponents. . So too were Them, the band that launched Van Morrison on his long career. The singer, harmonica, and sax player formed the band in Belfast in 1963, after spending time in semi-professional outfits. There were personnel changes in the. first year - in fact, personnel changes would be one of the band's less happy trademarks - but they settled down to become Northern Ireland’s leading R&B group, the equal of anybody mining the same vein over on the mainland. They landed a regular gig at the Old Sailors' Maritime Hall, an unlikely venue for R&B, but quickly gained a reputation for tearing the place up musically. The main problem with Northern Ireland was its limitations. There was simply no way to remain there and get bigger. So, in 1964 they packed their bags and headed to London, where the bright lights glittered and opportunity beckoned. They really didn't have to wait long, being snapped up by" Decca and sent into the studio with Bert Berns, the American who'd proved himself by producing “Hang On Sloopy” and "Under The Boardwalk," among a lengthy and successful resume. Their first effort together, the single "Don't Start Crying Now," flopped, but they quickly made up for it by recording the blues standard "Baby Please Don't Go," and appearing on the program Ready Steady Go. But the band's real claim to freakbeat immortality was on the b side, a little thing written by Morrison called "Gloria." This was what they were really about. Tinged with R&B, it was also a lascivious, almost demonic piece of rock'n'roll stripped to the bare essentials. By now, of course, it's a classic, covered by so many bands, from the Shadows of Knight onward, but back then it was dirty and grungy, and could never have been allowed as the main side of a single. t made the solo on “Baby Please Don't Go" (reportedly played by session man Jimmy Page) sound positively polite. They had a Top Ten hit, and seemed to consolidate their status with the follow-up, "Here Comes The Night," penned by Berns. That did even better, hitting number two with an almost evil bang. But the center couldn't hold, and that incarnation of Them split, with two of the group leaving to form the Belfast Gypsies. Among the replacements was a young Peter Bardens, who'd eventually go on to form prog rockers Camel. The new line-up lasted all of three months, most of them spent on the road. Them did continue to release records, although many of them were made with just Morrison and session men. The final implosion occurred in 1966, following a tour of America that went badly. Morrison left the band - which continued without him, still using the name Them, and releasing a series of semi-psychedelic albums (although ‘the Major Minor label did drag out "The Story Of Them, Parts 1 & 2" in' 1967, a track originally recorded in 1964 with Morrison singing). Morrison, meanwhile, went to New York with Berns, and made "Brown Eyed Girl," the Top 1 a beginning of his solo career - which took him very far from freakbeat. But no matter how distant this roaming, "Gloria" will always follow him, its few minutes of freakbeat bliss an inspiration to almost as many garage rockers as “Louie Louie." Nowhere near as well known, but producing some of the most interesting and raucous music outside the Who were the Creation. Starting life as the Mark Four, they changed their name in 1966, but still never managed anything more than a couple of minor hits (with both "Makin' Time," produced by Shel Talmy, and" Painter Man" probably their best-known track) on the small Planet label. Talmy moved to Polydor in 1967, but major label clout did nothing to improve their sales. In many ways they staked out area similar to the Who (Creation guitarist Eddie Phillips was reportedly asked by Pete Townshend to join the Who on second guitar), with their mix of Mod, R&B, and early psychedelia - heavy on the feedback and distortion; rock before it got its real name, if you will. There was a strong show element to their stage act. Not only did Phillips use a violin bow on his guitar, long before Jimmy Page picked up the idea, the whole band also dressed in vivid purple shirts. Vocalist Kenny Pickett would also climax performances by spray-painting a paper backdrop on the stage, a sort of real-Ufe pop art happening. In some ways, the spectacle overshadowed the music, which was a shame, because the Creation were a top-notch freakbeat band. When bassist Bob Garner left, he was replaced by Kim Gardner (whose. brief fame lay ahead with Ashton, Gardner & Dyke), from the Birds (another fine early freakbeat group, who had understandable legal wranglings with the Byrds). They became notably more psychedelic as 1966 became I 1967, part of the first wave of British psychedelic bands, along with Soft Machine, Pink Floyd, and others. But there was an aggression in their music that never sat completely comfortably with the Summer of Love. While they never achieved any mass popularity at home, the Creation were big in Germany and Scandinavia, and much of their later recording was at the behest of their German label, Hit-Ton. Even after Phillips left the band in late '67, they continued, simply because of good touring offers on the Continent. His eventual replace was a former colleague of Gardner's , from the Birds, a young Ron Wood, who stayed until offered a place playing bass witty Jeff Beck in April '68, I after which the band finally disintegrated. The Pretty Things story is well-known, from "Rosalyn" and "Don't Bring Me Down," (both of which were covered by Bowie on Pin Ups, his homage to, freakbeat) through "Midnight To Six Man" and into the full flowering of their ambition with S.F. Sorrow, Parachute, and beyond. But their motto always seemed to be there's no success like excess. Their hair was extravagantly long, particularly by the standards of the time, their music was wild, thick swathes of sound and rhythm that took no prisoners. They were the Stones taken to the nth degree, which meant, in turn, less even the Pretties weren't as extreme as the Primitives. Formed in 1964, they had even longer hair and more attitude (although their guitar work was fortified in the studio by Jimmy Page) although in the name of publicity they did have their locks cut off on Sunday night, television. Essentially they only issued two 45s: "You Said" and "Help Me" on Pye: the second of which actually achieved U.S. release on the Philadelphia label, and remains an interesting rarity. Although their career only lasted a couple of years, they did find some success in Italy, and moved tneref to release more singles. Their work was collected on .the Maladjusted CD compilation - which, of course, is now out of print. It's a matter of conjecture as to whether the Move truly qualify as a freakbeat group. They were, perhaps, too commercial, aiming very firmly at the charts and frequently hitting. But they never hewed to formula. And “in retrospect they took a lot of chances with their music. Formed in 1965 in Birmingham, the band brought together stars from several different local groups in a concerted shot at the big time. A year later, guided by manager Tony Secunda "they tried their hand in eondqn, and began to make a buzz after they took over the Who's weekly residency at the Marquee. That led to a contract with the new Deram label (a Decca offshoot), and the Roy Wood-penned single "Night Of Fear," which rose all the way to #2. Coming to recording at the end of 1966, they missed the prime era of freakbeat, but they were strongly imbued with its spirit in their early singles, like "I Can Hear The Grass Grow" and even the more obviously pop "Flower In The Rain." And their stage show quick-"", It became talked about for its spectacle, as singer CHI Wayne would chop up TV sets onstage with an axe (among many other things). And under Secunda's direction, publicity stunts kept them firmly in the headlines; the most famous was "sending out nude postcards of Prime Minister Harold Wilson to promote "Flowers In The Rain," which resulted in an injunction, and all the royalties from the single - the first song ever played on BBC Radio 1 - going to charity. For all their ambition, or possibly because of it, the Move was a group of very volatile personalities. They changed labels regularly ending up on EMI's "progressive" arm, Harvest, while band members turned over fairly quickly, First bassist Ace Kefford quit, then Trevor Burton, who'd moved from second guitar to cover bass, also left. And finally singer Carl Wayne flew the coop for a solo career, which would take him into cabaret. The hits continued, however. "Fire Brigade" and "Blackberry Way" (the latter being their only number one), both of which mixed Wood's pop smarts with the crunch that had come out of freakbeat. Even if the genre had largely disappeared from the underground by this point, it had (in what would become traditional rock fashion) co-opted into the mainstream. The Move were a pop band, but one with open ears. And in Roy Wood, they had a writer/guitarist/singer who understood how to work all the elements together in a package that had more than teen appeal. The Move, of course, would change radically with the entrance of former Idle Race member Jeff Lynne, and by 1972 the focus had changed from the pop of the Move to the rock-classical fusion of Electric Light Orchestra (which Wood, in turn, would leave in 1973 to form Wizzard). While the music they created might not have been freakbeat in the most generally accepted sense, it was certainly well within the parameters sonically - albeit a little late in the day. The same is definitely not true of the Yardbirds. From 1964-1967 they were the commercial face of hard R&B. The band began in 1963, rising from the Metropolitan Blues Quartet. In early lead guitarist Top Topham they had a man who was one of the best in London, and after he quit, they brought in one of the capital’s up and coming young players - Eric Clapton. There's little doubt that everything gelled during his time with the band, which included the singles "I Wish You Would" (not the same as the Pretty Things song) and "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl," in addition to their first album, Five Live Yardbirds, which was recorded in performance at the Marquee Club. That propelled them to the status of Britain's top R&B band (the Stones having gone pop) and started the first rumbling of the "Clapton is God" school. To the surprise of many, however, they apparently weren't satisfied with conquering R&B - they had their eyes set on the charts, too. They broke that barrier early in '65 with the adventurous "For Your Love" (written by Graham Gouldman, but with at least its feet in the boogie), that climb to #2. One member seemed disinterested in commercial success. Clapton preferred the purity of the blues to pop fame, and left to join John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. His replacement was another relative unknown, Jeff Beck, who'd been plying his trade in the Tridents. He made his recorded debut on another Gouldman penned single, "Heart Full Of Soul," which pushed the sonic envelope a little further - but quite successfully, as it reached #2. Beck was happy to work with feedback and noise as part of his palette, and the song itself had ample crunch, but remained catchy enough to appeal to a broad pop audience. They flexed their garage chops on the Five Yardbirds Ep, which included their take on "Hang On Sloopy," but it was really just a diversion. The focus was on the next singles. "Evil Hearted You" saw them working with Gouldman once more, but the flip, "Still I'm Sad," came from the band themselves - as did the next 45, the strange "Shapes Of Things." They appeared to have the Midas touch - all their singles went Top Ten. Amazingly, they'd yet to make a studio album. They remedied that during 1966, relying on no outsider writers for material. With the freedom of an LP, they pushed hard indeed, bringing in ideas few bands were using yet, like controlled feedback (sometimes not so controlled). While an R&B heart throbbed under their music, its colors were very different, filtered through the sound of 20th century London. One prime example was the track "Over Under Sideways Down," which would become their next single, and fifth chart hit. But more changes were in store, as bassist Paul Samwell-Smith left to become a producer, replaced by session guitar whiz Jimmy Page which was the way the band appeared in Antonioni's classic '60s movie, Blow Up. Quickly, though, rhythm guitarist Chris Dreja switched to bass, giving the band dual lead guitars - and a pair of players very adept at wringing new sounds of out their instruments. They took full advantage of the possibilities on "Happening Ten Years Time Ago," whose b-side, "Psycho Daisies," pushed the envelope about as far as it could go without bursting altogether. It was a step too far I for the record-buying public, who only made. it a minor hit. That seemed to trigger the disintegration of the group. Their two-guitar experiment ended when Beck suffered a breakdown during an, American tour, and after their return to England they began working with producer Mickie Most - the end of their truly adventurous work. Along the way, however, they'd created some truly stunning work. Freakbeat? Yes, without a doubt. But in their own way, they were more, simply one of the best rock bands of the '60s. Without the Yardbirds, Hendrix might never have found an audience, for example. Of course, there were many, many more freakbeat bands than the ones mentioned above. Most of them lasted for one, perhaps two singles, offering three minutes of pure abandon before returning to their regular lives. A fair number of them commemorated today on compilations, even if they made no impact at the time. © Copyright 2004 GOLDMINE Magazine

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