Independence Days

by Alex; Ogg

  Just like Small Wonder and Beggars Banquet before them, and Rough Trade later, launching their own record label (in November 1977, with Kilburn & The High Roads’ ‘Best Of’ EP) seemed a natural step. “I had a few bands come in wanting to put some stuff out. So we did what everybody else seemed to be doing and what we felt we could do quite well, because we had quite a solid backing from the shops. We had our own demand and our own mail order. So it seemed an obvious step to set up our own label which we did, and use the links we already had. I was very much involved with Stiff Records as well. But when I put out the Kilburns’ single, I had no idea that they’d just signed Ian Dury [The Kilburns’ now solo singer]. I remember I went up to Stiff one afternoon, as I was wholesaling their product. I used to go up and meet Jake and Dave Robinson. I said I’m going to reissue some Kilburns stuff and they looked at me strangely and wondered what the hell was going on. And they said they’d just signed him. I said, ‘That’s all right. I don’t intend to go on and do anything else.’ I’d just been over to Pye Records and said I’d like to licence some stuff, and they didn’t really know what I was talking about. I’m sure I didn’t know the legal side myself, but there was a demand for his stuff and it was deleted.”

  The other singles on the label were new material. The Dyaks’ Chris Reeves “used to be my painter and decorator”. Tennis Shoes, “the first single to give away a free zoetrope”, were “fairly avant-garde; a seven-minute rock opera about a kid who had hippy parents”. Those Helicopters were Maidstone Art College refugees whose version of Lennon and McCartney’s ‘World Without Love’ was licensed to the budget MFP punk covers compilation, We Do ‘Em Our Way. Sales were reasonable. “Ian Dury was never going to be a problem. I think we pressed 5,000 of that, and eventually sold them, which by today’s standards is fantastic. I remember we did 1,000 or 2,000 Dyaks, and we did quite a lot of Tennis Shoes. I remember one wholesaler took 1,000 from me, rather enthusiastically, and then got a bit miffed when I wouldn’t take them back later on. But yeah, we did a few thousand of each.”

  “When we did it in 77,” Melhuish continues, “we were like a lot of the free spirits, such as Miles Copeland, when he set up his independent labels. This girl who used to be on telephone sales who had been at RCA said to me there’s a guy setting up his own label. I rang him up and said, whatever you’re releasing, I’ll have a hundred of each. He said, ‘What do you mean?’ I said, I buy a hundred of everything. Anything that was being produced, I was buying. You know, Buzzcocks, Undertones, all those early ones I bought in quantity. That’s why we put the singles out. With hindsight, you could look at it as a dry run. That gave me a reality check. It was done pretty much through the shops and our own mail order system, we’d wholesale it with the others like Rough Trade and Small Wonder. So we helped each other out.” Thereafter Melhuish concentrated on the shops with the idea that he would eventually start a much bigger label.” Saul Galpern, who would later pilot Nude Records in the 90s, came down to Glasgow to work for Bonaparte after answering an ad in the music press, having long used them to feed his own record collecting habit. “They always told you what new albums were coming up, even if you didn’t buy it through them,” notes Galpern of the distinction between Bonaparte and the other advertisers in the back of the inkies. “But there was an ad there saying they were looking for someone, and I applied for it. I think it was £35 a week – at the time, I would have done it for nothing! They were looking for someone initially just to work in the shop helping out. It was the King’s Cross branch [which had subsequently opened]. I was working for the Melhuish brothers on the floor in the shop, and then I moved into the mail order side, and was involved in postage and packing. Then they brought in a guy called Chris Youle, because they were going to start a new record label called Human Records (see Chapter Thirteen).

  Another early entrant was Lightning Records, a distribution arm cum warehouse cum record label stationed in North London that released a host of generally poor punk records, mainly by bandwagon jumpers, alongside disco, novelty cash-ins and, with ultimately much greater success, reggae, often working in tandem with Trojan and Island. It also spawned the ‘Old Gold’ reissue label concentrating on deleted ‘classic’ 45s. The partnership included Alan Davison, Keith Yershon and Ray Laren. The latter was the son of Dave Laren, whose Laren For Music company had helped pioneer the UK jukebox industry (his father-in-law Ralph Mandell was also involved in the same business). Laren Jnr founded Lightning alongside Ralph’s son Norman to supply the jukebox network.

  Davison inaugurated a new independent distribution model after leaving EMI in the summer of 1977. It became successful very quickly, not least because he was able to use Laren’s warehouse at 841 Harrow Road on a rent-free basis for the initial six months. Because it carried product from both majors and independents, by 1977 Lightning had worked out that reggae and new wave were selling increasingly well, so took the decision to found their own label. Graham Collins would design the distinctive ‘scorched tree’ logo that accompanied its releases.

  Lightning lucked out on picking up Althea & Donna’s ‘Up Town Top Ranking’. Produced by Joe Gibbs, another staple of the Lightning catalogue, it employed the ‘riddim’ from Alton Ellis’s 1967 hit, ‘I’m Still In Love With You’ and was an answer record to Trinity’s ‘Three Piece Suit’. With initial support from Peel, they became the youngest female duo to score a national number one. With no contract in force to Lightning, Richard Branson stepped in to sign them to Virgin (a dubious choice, as the Jamaican schoolgirls flopped miserably thereafter with the astonishingly awful ‘Puppy Dog Song’). The rest of Lightning’s catalogue, outside of reggae, was entirely less noteworthy, though Jet Bronx & The Forbidden did count among their ranks a gawky Lloyd Grossman, and the label’s initial release by Horrorcomic featured Roger Semon, future Sanctuary Records CEO. By the time the label closed around the summer of 1979 they had diversified into football-related singles in an act of tangible desperation. The label, which was briefly mentioned in a World In Action documentary The Chart Busters about chart-hyping (jukebox suppliers could exert a lot of influence on the charts by dint of the records they stocked their clients with), was bought out by US wholesaler Ingram Entertainment Inc. One refugee from Lightning, Martin Wickham, established the Trump Records chain of stores in north London. Another, Ross Crighton, was the husband of Rough Trade shop manager Judith.

  Launched in 1977 “out of desperation as the majors were narrow minded”, Do It would become primarily associated with early releases by Adam And The Ants. The founders were Robin Scott and his then girlfriend and graphic designer Linda Watham. Max Tregoning provided financial support, while his brother, Ian, would later collaborate on various label projects. Scott was an old acquaintance of Malcolm McLaren from Croydon Art College. Indeed, McLaren and partner Vivienne Westwood had offered him the chance to become involved in their Chelsea clothes emporium Sex, which Scott declined in favour of pursuing a musical career. His ‘acid-folk’ album released in 1969, Woman From The Warm Grass, is highly regarded amongst cultists and collectors, but the independent label that housed it, Head Records, stalled almost immediately. After a period as a troubadour in folk clubs, and widespread travel in Europe and America, he declined a contract with EMI after winning the 1982 Search For A Star national talent contest when they refused to sign his backing band. Thereafter he produced pub rock band Roogalator, whose line-up included brother Julian, notably their Stiff debut ‘Cincinnati Fatback’.

  Roogalator’s Play It By Ear album inaugurated Do It after Scott failed to secure a release for it elsewhere, while Scott himself would also cut the third single on the label under the pseudonym Cosmic Romance. Otherwise the label’s premier attraction was the Ants, whose debut album Dirk Wears White Sox would be belatedly released in November 1979. By which time Scott had scored a number two single under the guise of M’s ‘Pop Muzik’, released through MCA (Do It had hosted his ‘Giorgio Moroder meets post-punk debut, ‘Moderne Man’, in A
ugust 1978). He had by now, however, handed over the reins. “I brought Adam And The Ants to the label,” he told Jonas Wårstad, “before leaving the business to the Tregoning Brothers, who were prepared to inherit the hassle. I left to form ‘M’ in Paris [where he would work for the Barclay label, settling with partner Brigitte Vinchon, aka Brigit Novik, who would later record for Stiff]. “Ownership of the label was not really of much concern to me, it was more a vehicle born out of frustration when a deal with Virgin for Roogalator went down the pan.”

  The other stars of Do It’s roster arrived were Swiss electro-dance act Yello, whose ‘Bostich’ became a major success in 1981 when remixed by Ian Tregoning. The rest were odd, one-off singings, like Again Again. “I don’t know how we came to Do It,” recalls the latter’s Jeff Pountain. “I guess they asked us. We’d been talking to a few people, just a blur of ageing hippies or Thatcherite tossers, in my failing memory. Since you’re interested, Adam [Ant] used to sit cross-legged on the table in Do It, shouting into the phone, “No toilets, I ain’t playin’ no more fuckin’ toilets!’ Which was odd, ‘cause he was a quite well spoken geezer. Bit of a ‘thesp’, as his subsequent incarnations proved. Still, his transfer to CBS paid for our 12-inch.” By 1982 Do It had closed its doors. One further Do It release is worthy of mention, however. The Method were formed in Islington and included guitarist Paul de Raymond Leclercq, who had played on the Dangerous Bicycles ‘Smokescreen’ single – fitting, given that Do It Records took its title explicitly from that band’s manifesto.

  Two other quasi-indie labels on the London punk scene also deserve mention. Anchor Records was owned by Ian Ralfini with its A&R headed by Dave Hill. Based in Wardour Street, with a distribution agreement with ABC in America, it signed pub rockers Ace (led by singer Paul Carrack, who briefly joined Squeeze) who enjoyed significant success in America with debut single ‘How Long’. But when they disbanded Hill joined the A&R throng visiting the Roxy and picked up one of the superior bands he saw there, The Adverts (following their one-off deal with Stiff). Anchor housed two Adverts singles, ‘Gary Gilmore’s Eyes’ and ‘Safety In Numbers’, both of which saw them appear on Top Of The Pops, but shut down shortly thereafter (The Adverts joining CBS subsidiary Bright). Anchor was always a confused and confusing imprint. Its final two releases were a country album by George Hamilton IV and Donna McGhee’s disco album, Make It Last Forever. In the event, Anchor barely lasted until 1978.

  Despite this, Ralfini was a friend of John Fruin, Warners UK managing director, which enabled the spin-off label Hill had formed, Real Records, to find a home. Though it needed the intervention of the omnipresent Seymour Stein. “When I met Dave Hill he was the head of A&R for Anchor Records. At the time, Sire were distributed in America by ABC, the parent of Anchor. Anchor was not a very good company, everyone called it ‘Wanker Records’. But Dave was a great A&R guy, and we became friendly. We both tried to sign Billy Idol’s band, Generation X. I said, why don’t we join forces, then we can offer a world deal? Sire is known here (America) better than ABC. Chrysalis signed them in the end, but we remained friends. Then he called me one day and said I’ve just been working with an artist, Chrissie Hynde. That name was very familiar to me, I knew it through her writing for the NME. I went to see her at the Moonlight in West Hampstead. And I loved her, and I loved the band. Fabulous. Dave and I started Real Records together, and it was half-owned by Sire, and Warner Brothers was involved because I did a deal with John Fruin.”

  NEMS was the rump of Brian Epstein’s North End Music Stores family empire, bought out post-Beatles by Patrick Meehan. It specialised in reissues of Black Sabbath – whom Meehan once managed – and acquired Immediate’s late 60s catalogue, as well as a live music agency in London. Around 1977 it began to fancy its chances with new music too, and signed The Boys, one of the new wave’s better commercial propositions. “Patrick had an assistant called Ian, who basically did all the work,” recalls the band’s Matt Dangerfield. “But you were dealing with Patrick Meehan directly. He always had a bodyguard around, a big burly guy. The reason we signed to NEMS – it was pretty early days, at a time when we were playing live, and just about every gig we played, the manager would say, that’s the last time you’ll darken our doors. All there was to play in those days was the remnants of the pub rock era. We had a gig at Dingwalls as a support one night. I remember the DJ after we’d finished said, ‘that’s the worst band that’s ever played Dingwalls.’ The same night there was someone from the NME there who gave us a review, and NEMS were there. They told us that night they wanted to sign us. We didn’t know anything about them as a record company, but they were a good live agency. We were running out of places to play! So at least NEMS the agency would get us some gigs. So we accepted the deal.”

  They possessed prior knowledge of what they were getting into. “Cas (keyboard player Casino Steel) knew them before, actually,” remembers Dangerfield. “When it was called Worldwide [Artiste Management], it was also the same people, [including] Patrick Meehan. We knew the gangster connection. We didn’t care. We were just happy to get the first album deal for any punk band of that era. The trouble was, a few weeks later there were lots of record companies coming to us. We signed a bit too soon. At the time it looked like it would be very difficult for any band to get anything other than a singles deal.” Sign in haste, repent at leisure? The Boys had luxurious stretches of time to do so. Any success debut single ‘The First Time’ might have enjoyed was scuppered when RCA, who distributed NEMS, had to focus all its attention on Elvis reissues following his death. Things became desperate when a third album failed to appear after NEMS refused to pay the studio bills for sessions at Rockfield Studios. In the end, the group embarked on an 18-month ‘strike’ in order to earn a release from their contract and eventually moved on to Safari. NEMS to all intents and purposes disappeared in 1982 after the release of the UK Subs’ Endangered Species LP. Nicky Garratt remembers being warned off the label by others, only to discover that the label’s modus operandi was intact. Halfway through recording sessions, the studio owners grew anxious. After all, the Rockfield story was now common currency due to the Boys’ ‘strike’ story. “Sure enough,” remembered Garratt, “the next day a guy in sunglasses and a black suit showed up with a suitcase full of cash.” NEMS collapsed shortly thereafter, with most of its back catalogue taken over by Sanctuary.

  The Boys’ eventual home was Safari, formed early in 1977 and sited in a temporary office in Newman Street, London. Tony Edwards, Deep Purple’s original manager, and John Craig were running a management office. “We looked after Whitesnake, Rainbow and Deep Purple,” Craig recalls. “We also had two labels, one through EMI, Purple Records, and one through what’s now Universal, Oyster. We also had a friend in Germany, Andy [Andreas] Budde, the son of a famous music publisher. We thought, let’s start another little label, something a little more frivolous than these big bands, with big sets and big backlines and all that stuff. We thought of it as a pop label. That was 1977, and it was around the time the whole new wave thing started. It naturally progressed that this thing would become a punk label.” A meeting with Howard Devoto, at which he revealed ‘Spiral Scratch’ had sold more than 25,000 copies, helped cement the idea. “We signed Wayne County and the Electric Chairs. They’d had two or three singles out on Illegal. It was all very amorphous in those days. No-one had any contracts or anything like that.” With Budde in Germany, Edwards then living in Paris and Craig in London, it was an ambitious attempt to found a tripartite indie. Deals were signed with Teldec in Germany, Vogue in France and Pye in Britain – though it didn’t necessarily work out that way. Budde dropped out within a year, though he would still play a part in the developing Safari story by offering a roof over the head of Wayne County when visa restrictions saw him deported to Berlin.

  County opened his account for the label with ‘Eddie And Sheena’, which twisted a boy meets girl narrative into a more topical punk meets rocker tryst. But it was County’s expletive
-fest ‘Fuck Off’ released in November 1977 after they’d signed to Safari the previous month (Sweet FA was the band’s own label, funded by Safari as an insurance). that really made a dent. Teenagers nation-wide smirked at the lyrics. Elders and betters hyperventilated. When it was subsequently re-released on the ‘Blatantly Offenzive’ EP, the Coventry Evening Telegraph review gave some indication of the reaction. “This is garbage set to music. Did I say music? One track – let’s call it Asterisk Off – contains two-dozen four letter words, rattled off at machine gun pace… Shock tactic records like this can only cheapen the cause of rock music…” It was a perfect example of outrage driving sales. “We sold a hell of a lot of ‘Fuck Offs’,” Craig points out, with barely concealed glee. “Pye, our distributors, wouldn’t distribute it. We managed to get independent distribution principally through Lightning.”

  With Edwards moving back to England and new premises in Manchester Street, under the shadow of EMI central, Safari was definitively in business. Just as Stiff would poke fun at the monolith (whilst being distributed by them) with their slogan “Buy Now While EMI Lasts”, Safari bought into the David/Goliath mantra too. “What’s the difference between The Titanic and EMI? The Titanic had a good band.” To that end they switched from Pye and sought distribution through Spartan, run by Dave Thomas and Tom McDonald. The Boys had talked to Safari during their ‘strike’ months, and free of their NEMS contract, having been impressed by the label’s faith in them, signed immediately. Dangerfield: “I don’t think we went to anyone else. What they offered was good, we liked the guys, so we went for it.” The connection originally came through Boys’ publisher Malcolm Forrester. “The Boys had been to Norway and found a rich Norwegian guy through Casino Steel,” Craig remembers. “They made an album in Hell – actually a place in Norway called that. And the album was called To Hell With The Boys. As a promotion, we sent out ‘Postcards From Hell’.”