Mr Punk, his eyes fixed on Charlie Harper, is slurping a pint of beer, his head nodding viciously in time to the ear-bashing mono-melody coming from the stage. Without warning, he pukes voluminously down his punk, black leather jacket. The vomit glides from the jacket, explodes over his punk standard issue Doc Martens, splattering vomit on to my Gucci loafers. But here’s the killer. Mr Punk does not move. He does not acknowledge any dilemma. He does not apologise. He just carries on drinking his beer and nodding in time to the music. My own instinct to move away is hampered by the carpet, so filthy that my sick-patterned Gucci shoes are sticking to it.
I should not mock punk. Charlie Harper, with an ever-changing line-up of musicians, still works. His fans, some still in uniform, are loyal. He still sells some records and makes a modest contribution to my catalogue.
Pioneered by my old house guest Iggy Pop, punk was part of a social movement arising out of the anger of the disenfranchised youth around the world. It was a genuine influence on the music of the day. It also influenced fashion, and the ‘punk look’ frequently reappears on catwalks even to this day. Unlike the sometimes physical warfare between mods and rockers in the sixties, punks did not go out on a Saturday night looking for a fight. The fact that I have chosen to mock punk behaviour that particular Saturday night at the Camden Palace I think reflects badly on me, but reinforces that I just didn’t ‘get it’ as I didn’t ‘get’ heavy metal. The music did not drive mainstream rock and pop out of the market but I took my antipathy to these genres as a warning sign. Music-business executives who made their judgements based on public trends, irrespective of their personal taste, could thrive in the music business as they got older. My success in the music business came because my musical taste coincided with much of the record-buying public. Clearly the times, they were a-changin’. Rap did not start to evolve until the nineties but – had I carried on – I would have felt completely redundant.
My deal with RCA was coming to an end. I was forty-two, had lost my enthusiasm for the business and I decided there and then, in my vomit-splattered Gucci shoes, that I had reached my sell-by date. It was time for me to say ‘Thank you and goodbye’ to the music business.
My journey had not been without its highlights. Some artists would not have had the careers that they did without my influence. My thumbprint was on records that had sold more millions than I can count. My reputation was still such that I could call anybody in the business to get an immediate ‘No’ which, if you think about it, is almost as good as a ‘Yes’. The reluctance of people at the top to muck you about is, I believe, a mark of your stature in any business and I felt that I was quitting when I was just about ahead.
I can’t believe that it was fifty years – a half a century – ago that I worked with the Rolling Stones, David Bowie, The Beatles and record-makers Mickie Most, Mike Leander and Tony Macaulay. There were many other talented people who I worked with on both sides of the microphone who also put my kids through private school.
I earned a lot of money in the music business and lost a lot in the film business, with no regrets. I would possibly have done as well or even better had I stayed in my previous career, as an accountant, but I was never in music for the money. I loved what I did. I mixed with talented, exciting, vibrant people at a time in the development of popular music when London was the place to be. To some extent, we were all riding on the crest of the British Invasion that was taking over the American music charts. Part of this was because some of the most successful British bands were in fact playing music ‘borrowed’ from black American artists. Middle America’s moms, who did not like the idea of a poster of Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters – or even the overtly sexy Elvis – on their daughters’ bedroom wall, happily drove their kids to see those cute English boys with their cute haircuts and cute English accents. Those moms even liked the Rolling Stones I think because, in the privacy of their own bedrooms, they fancied Mick.
Over the past fifty years, other than mankind’s determination to continue to kill each other over religious differences, the world has changed. Technology has changed the music-buying habits of the young. Fifty years ago, young people listened to their music in the privacy of their bedrooms on inferior record players. Homes had one telephone line, and mum and dad rationed teenage use. There were very few hours of TV with youth appeal and, as often as they could, teenagers disappeared from their homes to meet their friends, passing their younger siblings playing happily in the street. Kids did not get routinely mugged, stabbed or abused, and, generally speaking, their parents were rightly not concerned for their offspring’s safety, even without the invisible umbilical cord of the yet-to-be-invented mobile phone.
Music is now bought – or more often pirated – and downloaded onto mobile phones and many devices called ‘I’ something that I would just as soon never have to learn about. You can ask your little box called Alexa to play any song that has ever been recorded, without even saying ‘Please’, and she will oblige. There are no record stores where kids can gather on a Saturday morning to listen to the latest hits before they buy. Kids now ‘gather’ on social media sites and establish firm friendships with other kids that they have never met.
In previous generations, popular music was recorded using big bands or orchestras. Many homes in the sixties still had a piano in the parlour, but it was a difficult instrument to learn, and money had to be found for lessons. You only needed a cheap guitar to play rock’n’roll and three easy-to-learn chords gave kids an extensive repertoire. I even learned them myself, taught by Mickie Most.
All over the UK, groups were formed, collars were turned up à la Presley, and the sales of Brylcreem rocketed. Thousands of kids dreamed of making their living playing music, and although most didn’t, some did. Two kids called John and Paul did rather well and changed the way that the world viewed youth.
The 2i’s basement cellar, where so many UK artists started their careers, has long gone, but if it were still there, like many of the pubs that used to book bands, it would now be hosting stand-up comedy, the new rock’n’roll.
The legendary Woodstock festival put on at a farm in the Catskill Mountains in 1969 was pretty much a one-off at the time. Following the example of Mr Eavis, who started the Glastonbury festival on his farm in Somerset the following year, half the farms in the UK seem now to be putting on festivals. Music fans are very well entertained at these mega-concerts by great shows, which the majority of the tens of thousands attending watch on giant screens. I am not at all critical of this. The fans have a great time and there are very few stars who do not play these events. Interestingly, most of the top attractions at these events are well-established names who have been performing live for some years.
Pop stars are now fast-tracked to fame by reality shows. Some contestants will last but most will fail, not having learned their trade schlepping around the country to badly paid gigs, crammed into a Ford Transit van. Apart from jealousy that I have no financial interest in these programmes (something that I have touched on before), the reason I particularly dislike them is that the audiences allow themselves to be manipulated to scream with delight when a contestant reaches a high note or, in some cases, any note at all. The people who vote from home are often influenced by the contestant’s ‘back story’ – the more emotionally upsetting the better when it comes to getting votes. The owners of the shows sign every artist who might prove to be popular – as would I in their position – but I believe that these shows are bad for the business. They are unfair competition for artists who are striving for success the hard way, working for years to try to capture a following.
The major record companies, Universal, Sony and Warner Music, control about 80 per cent of the music sold in the world. Also, in my view, a bad thing. Artists can, and do, bypass the establishment and find success, but it is rare. Do I sound like an out-of-touch grumpy old man? I hope so, I worked hard for the right to be one.
I loved my time in the music business. Many years ago, A
ndrew Oldham adopted the slogan ‘Happy to be part of the industry of human happiness’ for Immediate Records. On reflection, it was a very corny sentiment but – for me – it was true. Music does bring happiness, especially when it makes you want to get up and dance. It is an integral part of our memories and, like me, I am sure that you identify certain times and events in your life with certain songs. I still get a kick out of hearing a song on the radio that might never have been exposed to the public without my involvement and, although I no longer get up and dance as well as I used to, there is definitely still a twitch in my legs.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my family and friends, who have encouraged me to write this book for many years (probably to stop me telling them a story that I have told them many times before…)
For help with turning my sometimes hazy recollections into something tangible, I’d like to thank Clare Lockhart for her research, editing and general encouragement.
For giving their time and generously allowing me to plunder their own material, I’d like to thank and acknowledge Kevin Cann (Any Day Now: David Bowie The London Years 1947–1974); Peter and Leni Gillman (Alias David Bowie); Fred Goodman (Allen Klein: The Man Who Bailed Out the Beatles, Made the Stones, and Transformed Rock & Roll); and Tony Zanetta (Stardust: The David Bowie Story, written with Henry Edwards).
For sharing their memories with me and reminding me what a blast we had, I’d like to thank Angie Bowie, Eileen Bradley (former V.P. GTO Inc); Jon Brewer (film-maker and former Gem employee); Dana Gillespie (former Gem artist and close friend of David Bowie); Don Hunter (former Gem employee who brought in Stevie Wonder); Penny Leander (my dear departed friend Mike Leander’s wife); and Anya Wilson (former Gem record plugger).
For their help with getting this book published, I’d like to thank my copyeditor Lucian Randall, John Bond and George Edgeller at whitefox Publishing, and Simon Levy who designed the cover.
I am indebted to you all…
With Marsha at our engagement party, 1960.
Marsha and me on holiday in Acapulco, 1974.
With Marsha at our son James’s wedding, 2018.
With Allen Klein, my music business mentor in the 70s.
Marsha and me with Mike Leander, the man who persuaded me to go into the music business full time.
Mike Leander and Marianne Faithfull at Decca, 1964 (photo: Gered Mankowitz).
Wearing my trademark cowboy hat in the mid-60s.
A young me looking over the shoulders of Mick and Keith at Chichester Crown Court after their drugs bust. (Photograph copyright Alamy images)
Tony Defries and Tony Macaulay on either side of me at a Gem celebration, 1970.
Tony Burrows, lead singer of Edison Lighthouse, receiving a Gold Disc for ‘Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)’ from songwriter Tony Macaulay (left) with co-writer Barry Mason (right).
With Larry and Michael Levene and The New Seekers at an Arcade Records presentation.
With Nicky Chinn, the man who brought me The Sweet.
Top row: D.J. Ed ‘Stewpot’ Stewart, Andy Scott of The Sweet, Gary Glitter.
Bottom row: Three members of Springfield Revival and Brian Connolly of The Sweet.
David Essex and me in the late 1970s.
With Tony Macaulay, Geoff Stephens, Johnny Johnson and Anya Wilson, a record plugger.
With Alan Price.
Top row: Me, Glenn Wheatley, Senior V.P. GTO Inc., and my partner David Joseph. Bottom row: Three GTO Inc. artists and Eileen Bradley, V.P. GTO Inc.
With Dick Leahy on my boat ‘Ziggy Stardust’ making the GTO deal.
With Phil Daniels, who starred with Ray Winstone in the GTO film Scum.
With Hazel O’Connor, who starred in the GTO film Breaking Glass.
With D.J. Alan ‘Fluff ’ Freeman.
Signing the Gem Records deal in 1978, with RCA’s Bob Summer.
Dancing with Anthony Quinn at The Greek Tycoon film launch party on a boat in Cannes.
INDEX
A&M Records
Abba 8.1, 14.1; ‘Waterloo’ 8.2
ABKCO (Allen And Betty Klein COmpany) 9.1, 17.1, 18.1
Academy Awards (1973)
Ad Lib club, London
ADP Ltd
Albion Records 27.1, 27.2
Alexander, J. W.
Anderson, Stig
Angel
Animals, The 6.1, 6.2, 6.3, 7.1, 7.2, 7.3, 9.1, 9.2, 9.3, 9.4, 9.5, 9.6, 9.7, 11.1, 16.1, 17.1, 27.1; ‘Baby Let Me Take You Home’ 6.4; ‘The House of the Rising Sun’ 6.5, 6.6, 6.7, 16.2
Anka, Paul
Apple Corp 20.1, 25.1
Apple Records 18.1, 20.1
Arcade Records 25.1, 28.1
Arcade Video
Archies, The (animated TV series)
Arden, Don 7.1, 11.1, 11.2, 13.1, 18.1
Arista Records 19.1, 29.1, 30.1, 31.1
Arnold, Martin and Morrow
Asher, Dick
Astoria Candy Stores, Finsbury Park 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 9.1, 25.1
Astoria cinema, Seven Sisters Road 2.1, 2.2, 9.1, 25.1
Atlantic Records 18.1, 21.1
Attenborough, Richard
Average White Band, The
Bacharach, Bert
Bag O’ Nails, London
Bart, Lionel 6.1, 14.1
Bassey, Shirley 14.1, 21.1
Beatles, The 6.1, 6.2, 9.1, 9.2, 9.3, 9.4, 11.1, 14.1, 15.1, 16.1, 16.2, 17.1, 17.2, 17.3, 17.4, 17.5, 17.6, 18.1, 18.2, 20.1, 21.1, 21.2, 23.1, 24.1, 24.2, 25.1, 26.1, 27.1, 27.2, 27.3, 28.1, 29.1, 31.1, 31.2; ‘Hey Jude’ 18.3; ‘She’s Leaving Home 21.3, 29.2; ‘Yesterday’ 16.3
Beautiful (musical)
Beck, Jeff 9.1, 19.1, 19.2; ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’ 19.3
Bee Gees, The
Bell Records 21.1, 21.2, 24.1, 29.1, 29.2, 29.3, 29.4, 30.1, 30.2, 31.1
Bell, Kenny
Belushi, John
Benjamin, Louis
Beresford, Bruce
Bergman, Jo
Berlin, Irving 8.1, 14.1, 16.1, 16.2; ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas’ 16.3
Berry, Chuck 7.1, 18.1, 28.1, 31.1
Berry, Dave: ‘The Crying Game’
Best Direct
Beuselinck, Oscar
Bev’s Blenheim Club, London
Beverley Hills Hotel 10.1, 25.1; Polo Lounge 20.1, 20.2
Beverley Sisters
Bienstock, Freddy 16.1, 18.1, 28.1, 30.1
Bienstock, Miriam
Bingenheimer, Rodney 24.1, 25.1
Bisset, Jacqueline 10.1, 10.2, 10.3, 10.4, 10.5, 10.6
Black, Don 6.1, 14.1, 21.1, 23.1, 30.1; ‘In One of My Weaker Moments’ 21.2
Blackburn, Nick 24.1, 24.2
Blackburn, Stan
Blake, David
Bloom, Jack (father-in-law) 5.1, 9.1, 9.2
Bluestone, Stephanie
Boccelli, Andrea
Bogart, Neil
Bolan, Marc 18.1, 21.1, 23.1, 24.1
Bonham, John
Bowie, Angie 10.1, 23.1, 23.2, 24.1, 24.2, 24.3, 24.4, 25.1, 25.2, 25.3, 25.4, 25.5, 25.6, 25.7
Bowie, David itr.1, 10.1, 18.1, 22.1, 23.1, 25.1, 27.1, 27.2, 27.3, 27.4, 27.5, 27.6, 30.1, Brown, Peter 27.7, 31.1, 31.2; ‘All The Young Dudes’ 25.2; ‘Andy Warhol’ 24.1; BOWPROMO 24.2, 24.3; ‘Changes’ 25.3; ‘Holy Holy’ 24.4; ‘Life On Mars’ 24.5, 25.4, 25.5, 25.6; ‘The Man who Sold the World’ 23.2, 24.6; The Man Who Sold the World 24.7, 24.8, 24.9, 24.10; ‘Memory of a Free Festival’ 24.11; ‘Oh! You Pretty Things’ 24.12; ‘Space Oddity’ 23.3, 23.4, 23.5, 24.13, 24.14; ‘Suffragette City’ 25.7; The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust andthe Spiders from Mars 24.15, 25.8, 25.9, 25.10, 25.11, 25.12; Young Americans 25.13
Bowie, Zowie (Duncan Jones)
Boyd, Pattie
Bradley, Eileen
Brandt, Jerry
Branson, Richard
Breaking Glass (film)
Brewer, Jon 24.1, 24.2, 25.1, 25.2
Brewer, Liz
Brill Building, The, New York 9
.1, 9.2, 16.1, 22.1, 24.1
Brolly, Brian 21.1, 21.2
Brooks, Elkie: ‘Pearl’s A Singer’
Brown, Peter
Buddy Holly Story, The (film)
Budgie (musical)
Burdon, Eric
Burrows, Tony 21.1, 21.2
Caine, Michael and Shakira
Calder, Tony 17.1, 29.1
Callander, Peter 8.1, 14.1
Cameron, Ray
Cann, Kevin: Any Day Now
Cannes Film Festival 10.1, 10.2, 25.1
Canvey Island
Capitol Records
Carlin Music 16.1, 16.2
Carter, Alan
Carter, John
Casablanca Records
Cats (musical)
Cavern Club, Liverpool
CBS Records 9.1, 24.1, 27.1, 28.1, 29.1, 29.2, 29.3, 30.1, 30.2, 31.1
Chandler, Chas
Chappell Music
Cher 8.1, 8.2, 27.1; ‘Little Man’ 8.3
Chinn, Nicky
Christie 13.1; ‘Yellow River’ 13.2
Christie, Edward 30.1, 31.1, 31.2, 31.3, 31.4
Chrysalis Group 24.1, 24.2, 24.3, 24.4
Cinema Shares 10.1, 10.2
Clark, Petula
Collins, Joan 20.1, 20.2, 20.3, 23.1
Conn, Les 23.1, 23.2
Cook, Roger: ‘Blame It on the Pony Express’ 21.1, 28.1
Cooke, Sam 9.1, 17.1, 17.2
Cooper, Alice
Cornish, Mel
Cosby, Bill 12.1, 12.2
Cramer, Billy J
Crawdaddy Club, The, London
Crewe, Bob
Hunky Dory (Who Knew) Page 25