ARTICLE ABOUT Paul McCartney (The Beatles) FROM New Musical Express, August 17, 1968

Sort of a strange interview with McCartney this, but also some food for thought. The journalist, Alan Smith, was made editor in 1972, and was told by its owner IPC to turn things around quickly or face closure. To achieve this, Smith and his assistant editor Nick Logan raided the underground press for writers such as Charles Shaar Murray and Nick Kent, and recruited other writers such as Tony Tyler, Ian MacDonald and Californian Danny Holloway. According to The Economist, the New Musical Express “started to champion underground, up-and-coming music….NME became the gateway to a more rebellious world.
By the time Smith handed the editor’s chair to Logan in mid-1973, the paper was selling nearly 300,000 copies per week and was outstripping Melody Maker, Disc, Record Mirror and Sounds.
Good job, Mr. Smith! Good job indeed!
Read on!

`Beatles loose habit of recording`

Paul McCartney in a no-punches pulled interview with NME`s Alan Smith

HOT sun on the back of my neck, exhaust fumes at the back of my throat, four friends in front of the tape recorder. Left to right Mr. Derek Taylor, Mr. James Paul McCartney, Mr. Peter Asher and Mr. Tony Bramwell, some of whom may be known to you. Hand reaches down to the recording button… push forward… raise the mike and speak.
Inhibited by the wayside Question Time, and the first enquiry is an inarticulate one. “Films? How about films? I mean, you must give me something specific… the United Artists commitment…”
P. Mac Cee: The only trouble is, Alan, I don’t like to be specific. Now, I wouldn’t mind if I had a few things to say. But I’m afraid it has to be… it has to be… general.”
Looks like it’s going to be hard going this. Yes, but, I say, and Paul sends the whole thing up wid dis sudden Brooklyn bit about we’s just a group of boys who get togedder, by d’roadside, an’ we’s gonna make it big wid our next album on d’ Apple label’.
Yes, yes, I struggle, but the commitment to United Artists…

A few films in the air

P. Mac Cee: “Right, well go on, and I’ll give you some evasive generalisation! There’s a few films in the air. There’s films I’d like to make on my own, with not me in ’em, just people in ’em. Just anything films.
“Films of what goes on. Films of grass. Films of people moving about. And then films I’d like to make with the Beatles band. Which would be musical films.
“But… they shouldn’t just be musical films, which everybody offers. They should be the other thing as well. And it’s probably going to be up to us to think of it, because people don’t seem to be coming forward with offers.”
It’s going nicely now. I’m warming up to it. I ask if the Beatles are now dedicated to making money, for whatever reason.
“No, that’s not what we’re dedicated to. We’re dedicated to making what should be made, and incidentally — there’ll be money.
“If you didn’t need money to get things, and if you got things by swopping ’em, then by a roundabout method we’d be dedicated to swopping.
“We`re only dedicated to doing.”
But then, I say, you’re obviously out to expand Apple and make it a thriving business concern, and Mr. Asher agrees but points out that the reason is not to make a fortune. Mr. Taylor agrees and says the Apple policy is to make and sell hits, hits, hits – hit records, hit films, and hit electronics.
Suddenly: “There’s something else you want to know, Alan, and I’m willing to give it to you. But if you just sort of say: ‘Films,’ then I’ll say: Right, Alan, Eggs.”
Get a bit hurt. Ah yes, I say, but you know what I want to know. “Yes,” beams Paul, “I know I do!”
Mr. Derek Taylor puts it all in focus: he interviews me. Alan Smith, he says — are you dedicated to making money, as it is said of you that you are? I have to admit it, I am. I believe money will help my loved ones and me to live in comfort and style. “And style?” emphasises Mr. Taylor – “you’re in good shape, Alan.” It was nice to have me on the show.

Uncomfortable grilling

I’m being put down, and although goodwill dilutes the sting, it’s still a bit uncomfortable being grilled by so many chefs at the roadside barecue.
So it’s back to the car and I think Right, Mate. No punches pulled this time. Turn the tape over, put it at the beginning, switch on and know I’m wiping out Cilla Black and Davy Jones with every word.
Do the bold bit about now look here, I interview many artists and most of them are specific, you know.
“O.K. then,” says P. Mac Cee, feet up and defences coming down.
“Whenever we lay off recording for a long period of time — which we do – we get out of the habit, and it’s not together and its not happening. It takes us a couple of weeks to get to know each other again and how we play.
“For instance, when I went to LA, I heard things on the radio that completely changed a lot of things I’d been thinking about music and about sounds I was hearing. So it made me write a couple of songs differently or arrange them differently.”
Hint of things to come… “So now it’s getting back to how it should be again… rockers… rocking! Which is where the Beatles should be and what we should be doing.”
Long discussion about Apple and what it means and what it stands for. Paul points out that in the past there were creative people who had to go on their knees for work, and for records and films and to get the breaks, man. “And everyone gets down on their knees and grovels a bit.”

Don’t have to grovel at Apple

The idea now is that Apple is an organisation where you don’t have to do that, where if you’re good you get recognised. The trouble is that so much of the pop and record business at the moment is run by people who don’t have a clue what it was about.
The ones who do know — it shows. Jerry Wexler, Herb Alpert, Berry Gordy and so on. When you have thinking, involved people like this, it isn’t necessary to depend all the time on The Big Fat Men.
Start to get around to the no-punches-pulled bit. Talk about cripples (or disabled persons, as my correspondent of last week tells me. Sorry. A word can cut like a knife.)
What about helping people like this, I ask. What about giving them the money to buy things to make things, to obtain their satisfaction and self-respect?
Paul: Well, what about helping the cripples?
Me: Well, why not?
Paul: Well, why?
Me: Because maybe they’re having a hard time of it, and you’re doing all right. Don’t you believe in human kindness?
Paul: Cripples are not necessarily having a hard time of it. And even if they are having a hard time of it — it’s their hard time. It is, man. It doesn’t matter what you say about helping cripples or India… there’s no way to pour millions of pounds into India and make India all right.
Let me get to your conscience, I say. You must have seen, in India, people with their bellies hanging out with hunger. No, says Paul. I didn’t see that. Have you?
But doesn’t it worry you? “No,” says Paul flatly, “starvation in India doesn’t worry me one bit. Not one iota. It doesn’t, man.
“And it doesn’t worry you, if you’re honest. You just pose. You don’t even know it exists. You’ve only seen the Oxfam ads. You can’t pretend to me that an Oxfam ad can reach down into the depths of your soul and actually make you feel for those people — more, for instance, than you feel about getting a new car.
“If it comes to a toss-up and getting a new car, you’d get a new car. And don’t say you wouldn’t —’cos that’s the scene, with you and most people.
“The point is also `Do you really feel for Vietnam?’ and the answers are the same, Maybe I’d rather listen to a rock record than go there to entertain, and maybe, underneath, that’s the truth in all of us. I know one is morally better than the other, but I know I’d never get round to it. I’d be a hypocrite.”

Everything is God

Says he believes in something called God, but anything and everything is God. Never thinks about eternity or outer space — more concerned with inner space.
The Crunch. Ask him to analyse himself and tell him I have always believed him to be Likeably — repeat, likeably — insincere.
Pause. “To you, possibly,” says Paul. “Because I think ‘Here’s NME newspaper. I don’t think Alan Smith, person, at all. I think I have to watch what I say because you don’t say certain things to papers. I think maybe NME – Enemy!
“Whenever I’m faced with a Pop Press Conference or a drink with the reporters, I can’t be sincere… ‘cos I wouldn’t be there. But I suppose that by being pleasantly insincere, I can at least get to know people on some level in the short space of time.”
Long conversation and then, finally, a statement. “The Truth about Me,” says Paul, “is that I’m… Pleasantly Insincere!
“And really that’s the Whole Truth, and nothing but.”

Mr. Rachid at the 007 club? Was this for real?

If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!
1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to: geirmykl@gmail.com
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.

ARTICLE ABOUT Jimi Hendrix FROM New Musical Express, July 27, 1968

I really liked the storytelling in this one. Praise to Mr. Altham who did a very good job on this one. Join him on an adventure with Hendrix and the boys in Majorca!
Read on!

Jimi brings manager`s new club roof down!

Getting around Majorca with NME`s Keith Altham

JIMI HENDRIX literally brought the roof down on the opening night at his manager’s club, Sergeant Peppers in Majorca by the simple expedient of ramming the neck of his guitar up through the low ceiling tiles. Amid thunderous applause, the Experience exited in a shower of plaster and debris after a series of brilliantly electronic histrionics!
Even manager Chas Chandler, somewhat ruefully surveying the ventilated ceiling in his brand new club, observed:
“No matter how many times I see them – they always knock me out!”
The group were introduced by flowerpotman Neil Landon (travelling with our party in the company of Noel Redding, with whom he is involved in a songwriting partnership). He requested that all those on the dance floor sit down, reiterating with Hitlerain emphasis: “You vill sit down or you vill be shot! “Immediately there was much sitting down, specially among the German contingent, before Neil announced: “For what you are about to receive may the Lord make you truly thankful! ”

Enter Mitch

On stage walked drummer Mitch Mitchell (known now to a select few as “the Julie Andrews of the group,”) bass guitarist Noel Redding and the man with the guitar that whips the flesh as well as the soul.
The Experience rolls along the motorways of the mind and the airways of the imgination. For the first two numbers their own amplification fought a “watta-thon” with the club’s PA system before Chas finally gave the group’s system best and let them loose on their own gear.
Each of the group has something to say through “Hey Joe,” “Burning Of The Midnight Lamp,” “Purple Haze” and “The Wind Cries Mary,” but Hendrix is the supreme conversationalist on the guitar.
Mitch attacks a hundred drums with a dozen hands and feet, while Noel pounds his bass through the electric storm on his right, raised by the Odin of the guitar. In between the squaling static, the flailing and the wailing and the erotic gestures, the Black Prince mutters over the amplifiers and finally arrives at the song he calls “our national anthem” “Wild Thing” which wraps everything and everyone up.”
We have just been the victims of one of those all too rare appearances of the Jimi Hendrix Experience, who now average about $30,000 a concert in the U.S.
“What really knocked me out is that the boys offered to do this one for me free,” said Chas. “I’m going to give them the gate money anyway, but they asked me if they could open the club themselves.”

Now people

Peppers is a revolutionary new club for the “Now” generation in Majorca. Neatly situated off the Plaza Gomilla (lovingly renamed “the Plastic Gorrilla by Noel) where most people meet in Terino in the evening.
It has an air-conditioning plant second to none, which provides a welcome relief from the still-hot Spanish nights, and a good beat group, “the Z-66,” with a vocalist who works himself into a grease-spot every night.
There is a first-class light show, getting better every night, as the all-American Bob gets more machinery.
Chas spends much of his time charging about like an enraged water buffalo, correcting minor defects in staff and controls. He worries about the club and the club worries about Chas. It is worriers like Chas who will make Sgt Peppers into the little goldmine it undoubtedly is to be.
I arrived in Palma on Sunday with Noel (Jimi and Mitch did their famous plane-missing trick) and that evening we watched one of the most exciting bullfights I have ever seen, with the famous El Cordobes in brilliant form, being awarded both ears of the bull (the highest honour) by El Presidente.

Impersonation

That evening we ate in a Terino restaurant which was formerly a boutique owned by Chas. There Noel treated us to an impersonation of the yet-to-arrive Mitch.
Bouncing up the restaurant stairs and creating the maximum amount of noise he darted about, on his toes, breezing:
“Oh, sorry I’m late. What’s going on? Can I have some of that? I forgot my money. Can you pay for it? Collapse of some few who know the ways of Mitch!
Monday saw the arrival of the other members of the group and walking down the street in glorious multi-colour they made an entrance into the Plaza Gomilla akin to the impact of the bad-men riding into town in a Western epic. You could hear the hub-bub of comment around the packed square before you saw the big three.
Noel came over to our table to say hello to footballer George Best, with whom he became quite friendly, and Jimi stopped by to exchange insults with me, our way of passing the time! His favourite dart on this holiday was to refer to me as “the little ol’ electric lobster,” due to my over-enthusiastic crash course on a sun tan.
Briefly Jimi and I discussed his lack of personal appearances in Britain.
“We’re not deserting Britain or anything like that,” said Jimi. “We are hoping to do some big city concerts in October. We’d like to have someone like the Small Faces with us, but there’s probably problems over who would top or something silly: There’s an American group called the Spirit right now that I would like to have with us.”
Mitch made one clar point about why they must play America again soon.
“Because that’s where we are treated best,” he explained. “Look, our most recent album has cost us $70,000 to produce. We’ve got to get that money back before we can start showing a profit, and America is where you earn the big money. There is still that feeling in Britain when we play some places that they want to make money out of us and that’s all. They treat us like dirt — give us a thousand pounds and think they are doing us a favour!”

Having kittens

Meanwhile Chas is having kittens about the volume of sound coming from the club from Jimi’s rehearsal and keeps talking about “impending doom.” He need not have worried. The Guardia Civil were very civil about the whole thing.
George Best appeared mesmerised by the Experiences performance on stage and the whole evening was an enormous success.
Tuesday saw a brief appearance of Hendrix and Co. on our beach at Lauro Verde. There, Jimi ventured into the sea for the first time in eight years. The spectacle of Mitch and Noel (they came up whiter than white!) was too much for most of the amateur home-movie exponents on the beach, who pointed whirring machines at them. Noel and Mitch obligingly gibbered about like sub-humans and danced up and down waving their arms. Jimi came out of the sea swearing his lungs had collapsed!
“You wouldn’t believe it but we’ve got Jimi insured for a million dollars,” said Chas. “And the doctor said he was the fittest man he had ever seen.” Chas broke off to address the frail figure of Redding in his bathing trunks. “We’ve got to get you insured too,” he said, “but I’m frightened to let you take the medical!
“The highlight of Wednesday’s activities was a visit to the go-kart track — the first time for Hendrix and Noel. Mitch duly informed me he was buying a formula one with gears to race it seriously! Jimi really took to the racing and was doing quite well, though he kept being driven off the track by an innocent young girl, ending up ignominiously among a heap of rubber tyres.
“I kept trying to play it fair and not bump any of the other cars off the track,” he told me later. He was still there an hour after Mitch, Noel and I left.
The pay-off to this experience was next day when I met Jimi with a lump out of his back and a badly grazed thigh. Apparently he was under the impression that he was back in the Paratroopers and had tried an ejector-seat release from his go-kart, but the chute had not opened! We were all sorry we missed that one.
That night Jimi made an impromptu return to the club with Mitch and Noel and they let loose a never – to – be – forgetten rock – and – roll session, including numbers like “Lucille” and “Johnny B. Good.” Jimi broke a string on his guitar but played better on five than most do on six.
His final remark about the visit to Majorca was to Chas: “I wish I had listened to you two years ago about this place!” It was a highly enjoyable working holiday and Majorca is likely to being seeing more of Hendrix at Sergeant Peppers.

If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!
1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to: geirmykl@gmail.com
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.

ARTICLE ABOUT Manfred Mann FROM New Musical Express, February 24, 1968

It is incredible to think of the fact that when this interview was done this band had already been active for six years, later transforming into the Earth Band who had touring plans in 2020 until the Corona hit us all.
Manfred Mann himself is 80 years old in October 2020 and older than all the members of the Rolling Stones, beating Charlie Watts with about a year. No talk about pension plans for these guys!
Read on!

Mr. Mann plays it humble

Words by Keith Altham

MR. MANN, whose gold tooth flashes before he speaks, is one who improves with association. It takes time to discover what lies behind the frugal black beard and thin rims of his circular spectacles but the effort is worthwhile.
He likes to play with reporters in much the same manner as a child with a kitten.
He pats you metaphorically on the head, teases with a few rolled up replies and finally rolls them over to see if they will laugh when tickled.
Sometimes he gets scratched, of course, but then he heals easily and does not have to play again.
Some time ago “Manny” realised that his honest, brash South African approach (much like the Australian direct manner) was often misinterpreted as arrogance by the more reserved English.
His new way is to play it humble – “You’ve come to photograph us – really? All the way from Denmark? How super.” Or he simply admits conceit and thereby transforms it into mere pride.
After performing “Mighty Quinn” on “Top Of The Pops” in a crowded rehearsal room for example, he said:
“You know I just can’t help it. I got off that rostrum feeling incredibly, offensively smug to think that after all this time we can still come up with a. No. 1.
“Tom had this idea that we’d put an advert in the trade papers addressed to all our critics reading, ‘Yah Boo Snubs!'”
“That wasn’t my idea,” said Tom, who was wearing his two shilling leather jacket recently acquired in a jumble sale; his free scarf and 38 shilling national health glasses especially for the show!
“I know.” said Manfred, smiling. “but it was not a very good idea so I thought I’d give you the credit.”
Back in the Manfred’s dressing room I produced a copy of Neil Smith’s cartoon to collect reactions. Tom thought it hysterical, especially the detail on Klaus which identifies him with a letter from George Harrison asking him to design the Beatles “Revolver” album.

Traced?

Klaus was especially struck by the tiny detail on the cover but thought their faces might be traced.
Michael was impressed by the detail and research into things like their drum pattern and even down to having them drawn in their typical clothes.
Manfred thought it clever but having a cigarette by him was a mistake — as he doesn’t smoke.
Manfred is anxious that the group as a whole should get credit for “Mighty Quinn” which is the first they have produced themselves.
This was made more obvious when a photographer wanted to just shoot Manfred alone.
Manfred politely requested that he return later when Michael d’Abo would be back from the doctors where he was having a painful boil attended.
Tom got very hung up on Michael’s boil and suggested the photographer could do a shot-by-shot picture sequence of it.
“Do you remember that old Jimmy Wheeler joke about this guy who had such an enormous boil he would invite his friends round to see it throb?” asked Tom.
The subject was hastily switched to the Manfred’s image as a group and their recent experience on a French TV show.
“We were so bottom of the bill you wouldn’t believe it,” laughed Manfred. “To give you some idea there was a grand finale with all the top Continental singers standing on podiums rather like winners at the Olympic Games.
“There was a procession of artists in a Winter Sports like setting, with everyone carrying banners and throwing snow balls.
“First came top names like Adamo and some French groups, then designers, artists, make-up assistants and finally those who were assisting Britain’s balance of payments deficit -`us’ — carrying a banner labelled ‘Pop Music’!”
Of course, it is one of Manfred’s ploys to under-sell his importance these days but he made the point quite objectively that “glamour” is a difficult thing for a group.

“If you are a solo artist you are a name to be called,” said Manfred. “Otherwise it’s ‘where’s the group?’ or ‘the group is on next.'”
“When the Johnny Hallidays come out of the studios there is a car waiting for them. When we go out there is a group bus!
“It is unfortunate that the honest attitude of a lot of groups to their showbiz existence has resulted in much of the star quality diminishing and the mystique disappearing.
Manfred himself is one of the first to attack the phoney aspects of “the swinging scene.”
“While there was a break in rehearsals my wife and I went out for a walk in the Montmartre district of Paris,” said Manfred.
“It was late evening and accordians were playing In the cafes and people were just casually strolling about the streets or sitting enjoying a cup of coffee in the bistros. It was a beautiful night — we just looked at some paintings and enjoyed the walk.
“When we got back to the studio there was ‘the jet-set’ sweating under arc-lamps and getting bad tempered. That’s what the swinging scene is all about.
“Life is time, for me — that is the time to be with my wife and children, the time to do what I really like.”
Manfred believes that “glamour” is often created by the public in their own minds. He thinks for example that the Manfreds have “an aloof intellectual” image and he is happy to foster that.
“Some people like Shirley Bassey have it naturally on stage,” said Manfred. “Some groups appear so ordinary and present themselves as ‘just ordinary blokes’ that they suffer.
People like Ray Davies have glamour through ordinary things. I`m sure people read of him playing football and think to themselves —”fancy Ray Davies being interested in something like that.”

MU fuss

Later in the studios I took up the subject of the Musicians’ Union decision to take action over session musicians playing on records attributed to groups.
“As a musician I should feel a little ashamed,” said Manfred, “but I can’t see what all the fuss is about. I’m sure the session musician would not want to go out and promote the records in clubs and ballrooms or go through all the publicity scenes.
“The session man may do nine or ten discs for which he receives a fee each time but he doesn’t share the risk if the record flops and the money spent on projecting the group is lost.
“This situation has been going on for so long I’m surprised it’s suddenly objected to the Love Affair’s disc on which the group can be hardly heard for the orchestra anyway.”
We ended the interview in the BBC club where Manfred became involved in a technical discussion with producer Colin Charman on camera shots.
Mick Hugg mentioned that he travelled all the way up to Manchester for “Scene” and they only showed a close-up of his left foot. Tom mentioned he recently played on “All Systems Freeman” and was not shown at all.
Someone asked Manfred where Michael was and Manfred replied distractedly, “Oh — he’s gone to have his lance boiled!” Which might be construed as a Freudian slip.

If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!
1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to: geirmykl@gmail.com
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.

ARTICLE ABOUT Bev Bevan (The Move) FROM New Musical Express, February 24, 1968

Nice to see a drummer get some attention sometimes. You should visit his hometown Birmingham if you get the chance and see his star in the walk of fame they have there. Personally I enjoyed the city a lot and found it a nice place to be.
Read on!

Nick Logan`s Spotlight on The Move

BEV BEVAN was on orange juice when I met him in a pub just round the corner from the group`s management. Bev is back on a keep-fit kick, having got himself a rowing simulator at Christmas to add to the chest expanders he has at home.
Unlike most drummers, Bev is a big fellow (six foot and nearly eleven and a half stone) and has one of those large round, genial faces that give the impression of a permanent smile.
But despite his adequate build, Bev keeps physical force for his drum skins. He lives at home in Birmingham with his widowed mother (his father died when he was eleven) and his pet Alsatian, Remus.
Bev is an only child and the attachment between him and his mother is a strong one. When he is away from home he phones her every day. She has always encouraged her son in whatever he wanted to do with his career, is one of the Move’s greatest fans and watches all the group’s television appearances whenever she can.
Like most of the others in the Move, Bev prefers to stay in his home town and has never thought of moving into London. “There are too many phonies on the music scene in London,” he says.
To a large extent, Bev is an uncomplicated, undemanding person.
His ambition is simply this: “Just to have the satisfaction of knowing that I have really had a ball and have seen the world.” He keeps scrapbooks with all the cuttings of Move write-ups because “it is nice to look back on things.”
He says : “When you are married and have kids it is nice to think that you have not wasted your life in a normal job, and that you have something to show for it. Everyone has to settle down eventually but it is nice just to see some life before you do.”
Bev is not a nervous worrier but does have normal fears. “I don’t think I worry a great deal. I worry about my mother and I worry a bit about the next couple of years. I do want to make a lot of money. That is the main reason I am in the business.”
One of his hates is cruelty to animals. I asked him if he’d like a lot of children when he married. “Kids got on my nerves actually,” said Bev, “but I suppose I would like some when I get married.
“Dogs have always appealed to me — they are so much less troublesome than kids. But I suppose I will change my views as I get older.
“I think I am a very young 23-year-old actually. My friends who have now got married and settled down seem so much older than me in their looks and the way they behave. I suppose you are affected by the environment you live in.”
At grammar school in Birmingham, Bev was a bit of a rebel, getting himself suspended a couple of times for outlandish clothes — he was a rocker in those days.
However, he was a reasonably good student, excelling in English and art and all sports, and left at 17 with three GCE’s.
At first he wanted to be a sports reporter, but was told he lacked sufficient GCE’s and instead settled for a job as a trainee buyer in a large store, playing drums with the semi-professional Denny Laine and the Diplomats in the evenings. Eventually this led Bev to the Move.
How has success with the Move changed him? “I have more confidence than I had before. But I am not very good at complaining about things. I don’t like starting trouble. Yes I am completely happy with the Move.”

If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!
1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to: geirmykl@gmail.com
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.

ARTICLE ABOUT Robin Trower (Procol Harum) FROM New Musical Express, November 4, 1967

Trower is a very interesting musician in many ways. He has recorded albums all of his life and released his latest in 2019. He doesn`t get a lot of love in this article but it was in 1967 his career as a recording artist was started.
Read on!

Spotlight on Robin Trower

By Francis Gaye

Robin Trower has a face like a punchy boxer who stepped into the ring once too often. His friend, Barry Wilson doesn`t like his nose! But Robin`s is a good-humoured face and like Robin`s career it`s taken a few knocks in its time.
Despite all Robin is a bright, interesting character whose voice is raw and unpolished belying the good sense he talks. He admits to being an introvert, is shy about pushing forward an opinion but welcomes the opportunity to talk for himself.
For the first time in his life Robin is making good money regularly. But he doesn’t, and never has, worried about filthy lucre. “I’ve only worried about it if I haven’t had enough to buy food. I’ve been pretty well off occasionally and generally fairly comfortable. But I starved once or twice in the odd days.
“That was due to bad managements not giving us our money. I’ve been conned many, many times and I’m even a little scared nowadays. When you’ve been conned a few times you get wary. Although we’ve got a good organisation now, sometimes when things go a little wrong, the memory of the old days comes back and I worry.
“Once it’s been done to you you never trust anybody completely again. It’s a lesson you learn and you never forget.”
Cynical perhaps. Realistic certainly. But Robin’s an old pro. He’s never done, or even considered, anything but music. “The only time I did anything that wasn’t in pop was when I did nothing after the Paramounts broke up. I just sat around getting myself together, trying to find where I was going.

Just wrong

“The set up at the end of the Paramounts was just so wrong I had to get out, then get away and think for a time. I’ve always known I would make it. If I didn’t believe this I couldn’t go on. Look, five and six years ago we were playing James Brown stuff and before the Beatles came out we were doing all that gear, it broke big and we just got left behind. I’m 22 and I’ve been playing since I was 14. I’ve been a full time musician since I left school.
“Then I formed a three-piece group to play the stuff I was writing. It was like Hendrix in format, but my music is nothing like his, and I thought that at last I was going to get somewhere.
“I called Barry Wilson and three days later Gary Brooker called me. Being a blues guitarist I didn’t think I’d fit into Procol Harum but, like Barry, as soon as I heard what they were putting down I knew we were right for each other.”
Obviously Robin was happy with the Procols. What do they think of him? Barry Wilson, old friend and hyper-critical adviser tends to see him less as a person than a musician and says: ” He’s the finest guitarist in the country, in his own style. He’s completely original, completely sincere in everything he plays.”
If this sounds like a rather sickening mutual admiration society it wasn’t intended that way. It’s just an assessment built up from years of working together. “And as a person he`s the same, completely honest, sincere.”

Looks long

Robin is also a cool character. He doesn’t get visibly upset, he looks hard and long before he makes up his mind about a situation or a person. He seldom blows his cool. If somebody upsets him he doesn’t shout or scream, he mentally shrugs and figures that he’ll probably never see the person again so why bother getting involved?
He doesn’t go to people to make friends, if they want him they come to him. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, nor does he make friends easily. He doesn’t court popularity.
Barry and Robin are seen as a pair. They complement each other. “It’s because he’s the drummer and I’m the guitarist and we’re doing much the same job in laying down the beat,” says Robin. Almost everything he says that concerns people and relationships is translated into the context of the group. He gives the impression that all else is secondary to the group, its music and his role within that whole.
“But Barry and I don’t have a lot to do with each other outside the group,” he explained. “Once the gig, practise or interview has finished the group go their separate ways.” Robin likes it that way, he reckons you can get too involved and that’s bad. “We don’t go out together. We have to be ourselves, as our private lives are getting smaller all the time. That’s part of success.
“I enjoy success inasmuch as I’m now in a position to play to people that I respect and that is what success means to me.”
Robin says something as a pure statement of fact which others would interpret as gross conceit. For instance:
“I always felt that I would be a great guitarist.” Bald, matter of fact, but to him a self-evident truth. After all, it’s what he’s been working toward for so long and his own faith in himself has, he feels, been vindicated within the scope of Procol Harum. He’ll feel that he’s living up to his own high standards as long “as I blow our manager Keith Reid’s mind every time I play! As long as he digs what I play I’ll be happy.”
Occasionally he realises that what he says could be misinterpreted. “I don’t want to sound big-headed. Although I like a lot of people and what they do, I don’t dig them, so they don’t mean that much to me.” In other words he acknowledges other people’s work and its importance but he doesn’t always follow the ecstatic eulogies bestowed on it by the Press, public and “business.” He forms his own conclusions with reference to his work and tastes.
Robin is a loner. He says: ” I try not to meet people outside my own circle.” And it’s a small circle.
One feels that he’s got his own scene together, that he is intimately involved in it and that what others say, do or think doesn’t concern him. He admits that he has a superiority complex, but he concedes it with a quiet grin. He says that he doesn’t think about himself that much and that he only thinks about others when they affect him. A strange paradox!
Robin Trower is one of the most difficult people I’ve ever interviewed. It’s almost impossible to get under his skin. He doesn’t laugh a lot, doesn’t gag. He takes things seriously and he certainly takes Robin Trower seriously. But he is NOT a vain or conceited person. He’s just very aware of what he’s got to do and how he’s got to do it.
He’s a challenge to talk to, he’s diffident, disinterested in the wider scope of life outside what he’s involved in and obstinately single-minded. An easy person to like for his honesty, a difficult person to know for his own protective shield.
A musician’s musician and a musician’s person. Happiest in his own company or in the company of those he knows, likes and, as far as he’ll let himself, trusts.
Robin Trower is the enigmatic member of the Procol Harum.

If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!
1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to: geirmykl@gmail.com
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.