Independence Days

by Alex; Ogg

  And Copeland’s decision not to pursue his already developed relationships with the majors? “Because the music industry at the time had no interest whatsoever in doing what this whole new punk rock thing was,” he confirms. “I had talked to the people at PolyGram [Polydor] about doing a label. We talked and talked and nothing really happened. So I decided in the end, I’ll just do it myself. And it was an era – you look at Stiff Records and other little things that were coming along. Rough Trade and whatever – all of a sudden, there was a situation where there was a demand for these punk rock records and the majors were not fulfilling it. I figured, you could make a single, you could record a couple of tracks down at Pathway Studios for £80, and go make a record. And put out a single and people would buy the singles. So the fact that the majors weren’t in there, and that there was a demand from the street, meant that you could actually get into doing it. You could literally do exactly what you wanted. In the beginning, you could sell almost anything. If you said it was punk rock, it would sell. Then at one point, a lot of people started doing it, and all of a sudden, you’d go out to the record store, and they’d go – who is this act? You’d say, it’s the same kind of thing as I did two months ago. They’d go, yeah, but we’ve had 50 more records come in since then. So finally that bubble burst. Then you had to get back into marketing and building just like any other act. So in the beginning, it was relatively easy. But then it got harder, and you had to get serious.”

  Before either record was released, Copeland was already planning a third label. At the time The Police single was being recorded, he was in the process of taking over 27 Dryden Chambers in Oxford Street, having previously used the premises intermittently (he’d actually married its previous occupant, Sherry John of Sherry John Artists Ltd, a theatrical agency). From this base he launched Step Forward, installing Sniffin’ Glue editor Mark Perry as head of A&R. Nick Jones had brought Perry to a meeting in January with Miles. He knew instinctively that his background – both familial and in terms of his involvement with the prog-rock 70s – would do little for the credibility of the project. David Marlow, later Richard Branson’s assistant, was offered a desk in Dryden Chambers and witnessed the comings and goings. “Nick Jones was the bloke who did it for Miles. He was the guy who ran a lot of the labels. Miles is a businessman, and he was buying into this. Nick was the guy who really ran the labels. This was a place opposite the 100 Club more or less, set back up an alleyway, a Victorian office building, and Miles Copeland had an office, and he gave me desk space there, as a London base, when I was working for Zig Zag.”

  Relations between Perry and Copeland were cemented as Copeland invested in Sniffin’ Glue in the form of a series of adverts. Perry, meanwhile, would eventually shift his operations to Dryden Chambers when he noticed that number 28, the office next door, was vacant. By June 1977 he’d left the berth Rough Trade had generously provided them with, and took his team (Steve Mick, Danny Baker and photographer Harry Murlowski) to the third floor of Dryden Chambers. A nominal rent was charged, while an extension lead was run through the window of Copeland’s office to supply electricity. Perry would ask Mick to become Sniffin’ Glue’s editor so he could devote more time to Step Forward and, increasingly, the band he was in the process of forming. The incumbent was sacked after one issue when Perry decided he didn’t like the results (or according to Mick, when he attempted to bring his girlfriend Alice into an editorial meeting). Perry was not above using Sniffin’ Glue as a publicity vehicle for both his own band and several other acts on the Step Forward roster (notably putting Sham 69 on the cover of the final issue, #12, just after they’d signed on the dotted line). The nepotism was rife and in stark contrast to the cavalier attitudes displayed at the most important west coast American fanzine of the day, Slash. Editor Claude Bessy, who would ultimately join the Rough Trade team, would delight in slotting any major label advertisements on pages facing editorial cutting those records to ribbons. But, with sales of over 8,000 per issue towards its end, Sniffin’ Glue was undoubtedly as influential to the development of the fanzine boom as ‘Spiral Scratch’, ‘Smokescreen’ et al had been to the independent record label explosion.

  Step Forward would reflect Perry’s tastes but more accurately document those bands in his immediate orbit. Miles had set up a situation where, via his connection to Chris Parry, he could access Polydor’s in-house studio with the hope of eventually signing a distribution deal. This solution had the advantage of not costing Miles a penny and leaving Polydor with any liabilities. John Cale came in as in-house producer, following the model of Nick Lowe at Stiff. The label was inaugurated via The Cortinas’ ‘Fascist Dictator’ (though SF2, Chelsea’s ‘Right To Work’, was actually released on 3 June as well). The Models’ ‘Freeze’ followed in July. But Polydor passed when they heard the tapes of Miles’ new roster, deeming them ‘amateurish’. Thereafter Miles scrapped New Orders to bring all his activities under the umbrella name Faulty Products. All three of those first Step Forward singles had been cut at the Polydor sessions, proving the fiscal wisdom of Miles’ initial caution (he had negotiated the right to the masters should Polydor pass).

  Another of the acts Miles Copeland worked with in these incestuous times was Perry’s debut musical venture, Alternative TV. Copeland immediately became their manager, and sourced a distribution deal with EMI, which enjoyed a similar arrangement with Step Forward. Perry, now famed for his “punk died when the Clash signed to CBS” comment, was understandably self-conscious about his new-found closeness to a major label, but the deal did at least offer free studio time in which to record the band’s first demo. He made good use of it, tackling subjects including impotence that he knew the major would never care to release. To quash all doubt, he deliberately inserted swear words into three of the four recordings. Once again, by self-releasing those sessions as the band’s first two singles, Copeland had managed to offload his recording costs to a third party. ATV’s output, notable for Perry’s blunt, highly personal lyrics, was ultimately housed primarily on Deptford Fun City; a now vacant lot after Squeeze’s defection to A&M.

  Following The Police’s debut ‘Fall Out’ (which had an initial pressing of 2,000 copies but would ultimately sell over 70,000 when the band became superstars), Illegal’s second release was Wayne County and the Electric Chairs’ self-titled debut EP. But the band would soon depart for Safari when Miles balked at releasing some of their more scandalous material. After an aborted second Police single, recorded with Cale at Pathway, Menace’s ‘Screwed Up’ followed in November 1977. Although Menace would subsequently transfer to Small Wonder, Copeland would later release the ‘I Need Nothing’ single drawn from the same sessions, and brought guitarist Steve Tannett into his inner circle to help him run Illegal.

  Copeland also added distribution to his activities, retaining the name Faulty. His first major project was The Only Ones’ ‘Lovers Of Today’, released on their own Vengeance Records, run by Peter Perret and Zena Kakoulli (sister of Squeeze bass player Harry). Its partial success (Miles advertised it heavily in the final issue of Sniffin’ Glue) led to the Only Ones signing with CBS. But it seemed Perrett was less than grateful for, or graceful about, Copeland’s contribution. See the band’s 1979 album Even Serpents Shine and the track ‘Miles From Nowhere’ whose lyric, and lines such as ‘cold reaction transcends the myth you built’ and particularly ‘you always sell to the one who bids the most’, can easily be interpreted as referencing Copeland.

  Step Forward then secured the services of Sham 69 for ‘I Don’t Wanna’, but they soon passed through to Polydor. “Miles was a no-go area,” remembers Sham’s Dave Parsons of those times. “We’d hang out in the other bit with Mark Perry and Danny Baker [who had by now joined Sniffin’ Glue] etc. I do remember we never got paid for anything. One memory I have was when we were at his dad’s house (ex-head of the CIA). It was Sham, Miles and his brother Stewart. The next thing we know, his dad bursts in and proceeds to give both Miles and Stewart a huge
bollocking. I’m not sure who was more embarrassed – them or us.”

  Sham had an appeal that far outstripped Chelsea’s, who had to some extent become Step Forward’s house band, despite never eclipsing the power of their debut single (whose sentiments were roundly misunderstood). The Models simply dispersed while the Cortinas moved on to CBS after a second single, ‘Defiant Pose’. “At the time he [Copeland] wasn’t popular on the scene,” remembers Cortinas’ singer Jeremy Valentine, “although he did give a lot of help to McLaren. So his unpopularity made him popular with me. He was basically a businessman who would have made even more money if he hadn’t had the silly idea that he could make money out of rock ‘n’ roll. But he had also lost a lot of money in the early 70s and was a bit down on his uppers when we met him, at The Roxy. But the fact that he was American and his dad ran the CIA was exciting to us. He had enormous energy and drive. Mind you, we thought his brother’s band were a bunch of wankers, like trendy teachers. Miles didn’t really understand ‘the creative process’ and liked simple solutions. Usually he was hands-off, but when he interfered it was bit depressing. Mark Perry was and is an angel.”

  The other important band on the label was Mark E Smith’s The Fall, a group whose Can and Beefheart fixations ran contrary to the prevailing influence of the Pistols or Clash. Fiercely intelligent and belligerent, and in perhaps half a dozen ways totally unique, Smith used oral tradition and slang to invent his own dictionary. The Fall’s ‘Bingo-Master’s Breakout’ EP was intended originally for New Hormones but cancelled due to financial constraints. When Richard Boon handed over the tapes to Kay Carroll, The Fall’s then manager, she sent them south. A fourth track from the sessions, ‘Frightened’, was dropped from the Step Forward EP, though it would re-emerge in re-recorded form on the group’s debut album – the first long player on the label. But even prior to the EP’s release, The Fall were artists of some renown, having recorded what would be the first of dozens of Peel sessions for the besotted DJ, and appeared on Tony Wilson’s So It Goes TV show. Which might have made them ideal candidates for the latter’s soon to be founded record label, Factory Records.

  Yet it was Danny Baker, prior to joining Sniffin’ Glue the editor of Adrenaline fanzine, who eventually cajoled Copeland into the release. Writing in Zig Zag in February 1978, announcing the ultimately cancelled release of the New Hormones EP, Baker ended his eulogy with an entreaty: “What can I say to make you feel enough to emphasise how important this band are to rock music, and me, and hopefully, you?” At one point an arrangement was considered whereby the band were to be produced by Kim Fowley, who also recorded for Illegal, before the band rejected the £2,000 fee he’d demanded. The Fall’s stay at Step Forward was brief, but in singles such as ‘Rowche Rumble’ and ‘Fiery Jack’, and their first two LPs (Live At The Witch Trials and Dragnet), it represented the first instalment, and one of the finest, of a formidable career.

  “Miles was from the old guard,” notes Marc Riley, whose tour of duty with The Fall spanned their entire Step Forward output. “He was a ‘player’. If you look at the records Miles put out, I think it’s fair to say he wasn’t exactly doing it from ‘the heart’. It was business. I really don’t think anyone who ‘got’ The Fall and ATV would be particularly enamoured with Chelsea and Menace. I think he knew the business, was ready to go at the right time and, as with The Police, adapted to the changes the Pistols introduced. Mark P was often knocking about, but I never got to know Danny Baker at that time. ATV were one of the best bands around. Strangely they – like The Fall – were very principled. Both bands ended up supporting hippy outfit Here and Now. That’s where we met our future ‘producer’ Grant Showbiz. Miles Copeland drove The Fall van on our first American tour. I liked him. He was sharp. Good sense of humour.”

  By 1978 Copeland had relocated the Faulty companies to new premises at 41B Blenheim Crescent. But thereafter he would focus on managing The Police and also founding IRS Records (significantly offering Perry a berth for ATV), into which the Faulty labels were folded. Dryden Chambers, once the home of Faulty Products, Sniffin’ Glue and Glitterbest, was rebuilt and refurbished.

  “Look, once The Police started moving, that became such a big deal,” says Copeland. “Once we sort of got backing, all of a sudden we had money, because The Police were happening, IRS became a hot indie, and there was a lot less focus on England. The labels morphed into IRS, and then IRS became the label. [A&M] didn’t put money into us until later on. What they did was they put the records out. I put the money in. My deal with Jerry Moss was, look, you don’t A&R my records, I won’t ask for your money. So you put out everything I give you, but you don’t listen to the records. When I went in to make the deal originally, he said, ‘OK, give me some of the records.’ I said, ‘No, no, no. You won’t know what you’re listening to. I’m not asking for your money, I’ll pay for the releases, you just distribute it, but you can’t listen to any of the records. You have no decision on what comes out. So he said OK. So we signed Buzzcocks and The Stranglers, one after another, just putting stuff out, Wall Of Voodoo, Magazine. We were licensing stuff or signing stuff. I was going to do ‘Rock Lobster’ with the B-52s, and they had agreed, and I was running around with The Police, and by the time I’d got around to doing it, they had already got into some place else. The B-52’s was something I really wanted to do, and I couldn’t get A&M interested, they thought they were a college band, and I kept saying, this group’s going to be big. I guess the only other act here I wish I had signed, because they did pretty well, was X. But the fucking guitar player [Billy Zoom] decided I was a CIA front! Which is hilarious, of course.” In fact, accusations of that ilk had always dogged Miles – including allegations that The Police’s far east tours were merely preliminary exercises in information gathering for prospective coups. “He said, ‘You’re a CIA front.’ I said, ‘Excuse me? I’m a CIA front? So CIA is funding me? You might want to let them know, cos I could use the cash!’ That was always very funny.”

  Copeland, maligned though he may be, at least has a sense of humour. Having sponsored a band called The Police, set up Illegal Records, and founded a company called IRS, he was clearly having a lot of fun with his reputation. “I was, yeah! The truth is this – we’re all tied up to big business in one way or another. If you want to be in the main marketplace, and to have your records sold in Virgin and HMV, and wherever the stores are, there’s a structure to get in there. And if you want to play at the Albert Hall, and you want to play at stadiums, in the end, if you want to do that, you’re in big business. You can come in and be independent and all this and that. [You might be] really underground and you don’t play those places and don’t sell your records that way and all that. But once you really are in the game to make money and succeed, inevitably those realities of business come into play.”

  Though its associated record label would only issue four singles, Bonaparte’s shops formed a key part of the pre-Cartel independent network that sprang up from 1977 onwards. “We had half a dozen record stores through the 70s and 80s,” says former owner Steve Melhuish, who ran the stores with his brother Guy. “I opened up the first Virgin store in Oxford Street in 1971, and then opened up my own stores in 1973. We were fortunate enough, for the first time it seemed to me, to be at the right place at the right time. We had shops in Croydon [where Kirsty MacColl worked in mail-order], Bromley and Guildford. And we had Siouxsie and the Banshees in the Bromley shop, we had The Damned hanging out in the Croydon shop and we had what was to turn out to be The Jam in the Guildford shop. So we were involved in the punk thing right from the outset. There wasn’t really the demand until punk came along. Not only did I find it musically a breath of fresh air, but from a business point of view, it gave us an edge with everybody else. I think I put the first ever advert in the NME for punk records. I remember doing it quite clearly – I scratched it out on a piece of rough paper and posted it off. They said they needed it typeset. I said I don’t want it typeset, I wanted it to
be stuck in just like that. They said it would take up extra column inches. I said I didn’t care, and to just put it in as it was. It was called ‘Punk At Bonaparte’ and I’m pretty sure it was the first mail order advert – either us or Small Wonder. They advertised in the Melody Maker and we advertised in the NME. From that we had a lot of enquiries from other shops, and from abroad, particularly Paris and New York and LA, so we started to export. I got involved with Geoff Travis at Rough Trade, Tony Wilson at Factory, etc. We were wholesaling – one of the four or five people that were wholesaling punk.”