The British Invasion

(from 2014)

No – we are not talking about British successes in the 1814 Battle of Hampden in the American War of Independence, but something far more close to the present. In the sixties British rock groups swamped America with a “new” sound that was dubbed “the British invasion.” It came to my mind as I have just purchased a stack of very cheap CDs of various luminaries of the era. Playing them on the iPod in the car, I have reawakened sounds (not all of them pleasant) that I’ve not heard for nearly 50 years.

Originally British pop music was dire – really dire. Late 50s and very early 60s UK music was nearly all cover versions of American hits, and apart from Radio Luxemburg you didn’t hear many of the originals. It was the place to come for Americans when your career started to dip in the States - so Bill Haley, Charlie Gracie, Buddy Holly, Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochran, Del Shannon – all came over to this cold, damp country. Eddie Cochran even died here, after the taxi taking him to the airport crashed at speed.

Our home grown talent went through a phase of all being Elvis clones. And they had names like Marty Wilde, Billy Fury, Dickie Pride, Vince Eager, Duffy Power, Johnny Gentle, Rory Storm, Gerry Tempest – there was a certain inevitability in their stage names... Some ultimately forged good careers, but most were either brief shooting stars or damp squibs. The one I used to like, Adam Faith (who went to school near me) started off as a rocker, but then turned into a Buddy Holly clone – hiccupping, burping and gargling his way through several hits – so I bought his records. I also saw him on stage with imported rocker Gene Vincent on one memorable occasion.

But most Brits just did cover versions.

But then some home grown groups from the big cities burst onto the scene – initially with R&B covers – but then in many cases with their own material. Liverpool produced the Beatles, Gerry and the Pacemakers, The Searchers, and from nearby came Bill J Kramer and the Dakotas. Manchester produced Freddie and the Dreamers and Herman’s Hermits, London produced Manfred Mann and The Dave Clark Five. Newcastle spawned The Animals, and so on. I saw nearly all these British groups at the time – all except the Beatles. And that was daft – the Beatles first major tour was as support for Roy Orbison, and as a paid up member of the Orbie fan club I saw him on every visit, apart from this one. I can’t remember why not now.

The main venue locally was a place called Botwell House. I would have kept going each year but I moved away from London. It was actually like an open air festival – just the stage was covered.

At Botwell House, although we had nearly all the British groups and visiting luminaries like American Del Shannon, the star of the show was always a local act called Screaming Lord Sutch and his backing group The Savages.

Sutch would be dressed in a leopard skin, have a toilet seat around his head, and come raving onto the stage with an ax in his hand – lighting a real fire on stage during Great Balls of Fire – something one suspects Health and Safety might frown on today – and generally creating mayhem. He had one minor hit record called “Jack the Ripper” which sort of summed up his persona. His stage act was partly based on that of the American Screaming Jay Hawkins – except that Hawkins could actually sing. Just check out Hawkins’ “I Put a Spell on You,” and my all-time-favorite-dumbing-down moment, “Constipation Blues.” But I digress...

Sutch’s later career involved reading pornography from a pirate radio station off the shores of Britain and inventing a political party called The Monster Raving Loony Party. It always stood against the sitting Prime Minister to get maximum news coverage. They actually changed the course of British political history in a strange way. A former home secretary, David Owen, split with his party and founded a new one that held several seats in parliament and was hoping for great things. But when, in a local government election, one of his candidates actually polled less votes than the Monster Raving Loony Party contender, then the writing was really on the wall. But I digress...

Yes, all those names. I used to particularly enjoy Freddie and the Dreamers with their daft stage antics and some nice Buddy Holly covers. I learned from my barber in more recent years that he wasn’t all that nice in person. My barber was in various groups in the 70s when Freddie was reduced to the club circuit (what we call here the “chicken in a basket” circuit), and shared a bill with him on several occasions. Whenever I go for a haircut my barber and I sing old songs together – loudly and badly. I live in that sort of place. But I digress...

And I did enjoy the Searchers. They had a host of hits throughout the 60s. Eventually they split into two rival versions. And one version actually came to my village a few years ago. Yes – MY village! We used to have an annual festival, the T. Festival – until the money ran out. So the Searchers (mark 2) were the headliners. I still have video of them and all my friends and neighbors bopping along like it was still 1965. (To “strange Englishman,” religious person, and foot person, I added another strand to my “resume” in the village that day). They were really good. The local paper trumpeted how our festival was really on the map for headliners like the Searchers (mark 2) to appear. Less kindly souls remarked that this version of the Searchers must have been really down on their luck to be reduced to playing at a venue like T. But I digress.

So – remind me – why am I going down memory lane like this? It has to be buying all those cheapo compilations from Amazon and hearing songs that bring back memories on the iPod in the car.

Hold on a second while I change over to the Rotting Bones – I mean Rolling Stones...