Tony Tyler

ARTICLE ABOUT Genesis from New Musical Express, September 13, 1975

Been a busy week and I was also laid flat for a couple of days by that very dangerous (for us men at least) disease called “Winter Cold”. I was incredibly sick for a while, but now I`m feeling better. So here we go again with a post written in a very special period of time for this band. What to do without Gabriel? The journalist didn`t seem to know that the solution to this problem sat right there in front of him. Really enjoyed reading this quite funny interview. Hope you do too!

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While shock waves of the GENESIS cataclysm still re-echo around the world, we bring you this report direct from the disaster area. And drummer PHIL COLLINS, one of the few men alive today who can fully assess the situation, offers words of assurance to the many, many people who must feel that their very raison d`etre hovers on the brink.

By TONY TYLER.

So Genesis` Peter Gabriel flitted from the popular group on the Friday and by the following Monday Genesis-watchers among the plebiscite were still unaware that The Man in the Papier-mache Mask was re-affirming, in his own published words, “my bondage to cabbages.”
At the same time – and on the same Monday – news-desks on the Music Weeklies were throbbing with speculation and we-predicted-it-first-so-we`re-not-exactly-caught-bare-assed-isms.
Inky scribes scratched armpits reflectively and murmured, in a 72 pt. trance, EXODUS FROM GENESIS. (“No – too obvious. The opposition are bound to use it.”)… GABRIEL HORNS OUT (“I like it”), finally settling for GABRIEL QUITS GENESIS (“Not exactly John Donne but the point gets across, don`t it?”).
And while Gabriel was horning out or exodising or even quitting Genesis, the other four members, who`d tended to be somewhat overlooked both before and during the Announcement (not to speak of The Letter), were coolly adjusting to their amputated state and putting into effect certain contingency plans drawn up when Gabriel had told his colleagues that, yes, it was Back To The Land For Him.

When did he tell `em? One year ago. SO, PHIL Collins – neatly-bearded and athletic drummer with Genesis, crisply austere Princeling of the Paradiddle – you mean to tell us that for a solid twelvemonth you and Michael Rutherford and Steve Hackett and Tony Banks – not to speak of your record company Top Brass and your own Manager – have been living and working under the shadow of this Departure (or even Exodus?) that during the most important year of your professional lives, cramful of U.S. tours, Eurotours, lauded albums and poll victories et al (not to speak of The Rest), you guys have had this to look forward to?
You mean you`ve been grafting away like coca-leaf-chewing Bolivian peons just waiting for your lead protagonist, ringmaster of kooky effects and composer of stuccoed lyrics to be finally seduced Away From It All by… cabbages?
“Yes.”
Actually, Phil Collins is by no means a taciturn man. Nor is he a gabbler. Sort of somewhere in the middle – but by no means inhibited from letting fly with the verbals when he`s got a ready answer to the question, which he usually – but not always – has. Bless him, he`s taken a tube ride all the way to Long Acre, canvas bag over T-shirted shoulder, just to talk about things with NME. This is absolutely unconnected with the fact that he didn`t go to Public School.

“In fact, Peter first said he was going to be leaving about a year ago, just after `Lamb Lies Down`. I don`t want to go into his reasons too much – he did that himself in the Press last week – but for several reasons he decided to stay on until now.
“Actually, I was planning to leave myself at that time. I didn`t leave either. Neither am I planning to.”
At this point it`s only fair to point out certain minor but important tensions that lie around the circumstances of this interview.
NME – with its aggrieved Gasbag punters (yours sorrowfully – Genesis Freak, Accrington) to think about – is primarily (but by no means exclusively) interested in the circumstances of The Gabriel Split, Genesis` reaction, Genesis` plans (i.e., will there still be a Genesis?) – and most of all Do they Plan To Replace Gabriel And If So How Do They Propose To Swing It?
On the other hand, Genesis` management, and the group themselves, while conceding that public attention is primarily focused on the etceteras above, are also mad keen to promote an image of Unity And Optimism In The Face Of A Long-Foreseen Setback.
So near and yet so far, and so on: Could still be a great life if we don`t weaken. And anyway there`s always the solo albums.

So Phil Collins is gamely and honestly and frankly (he even said “I dunno” when I asked him why Genesis, despite loud and consistent acclaim for their elaborate stage presentation job, had never reflected this in album sales – but more on that later) fielding the Gabriel Questions and simultaneously vibing up a good deal when the conversation swivels over to his own wide-ranging musical projects (which it isn`t going to just yet because we haven`t quite finished with Peter Gabriel).
So what are you fellers going to do? I mean, Gabriel isn`t exactly a forgettable visual experience, is he? You going to secure a replacement or you going to revibe the Act? If so, how?
“Peter`s leaving isn`t the blow that some people seem to think it is,” says Collins. “Like – the Press have always seized upon Peter and sort of pushed him more than everybody else, when really-”
But he was your front man. And he did ascend heavenwards like his demiurgic namesake…and he did address the audience between numbers in a highly idiosyncratic way… and he did write an awful lot of lyrics.
“Not all of them. People have always misunderstood that. Mike and Tony write nearly as much and very much in the same style – it`s a band style of writing, not Peter`s alone; it`s a product of all of us and the fact that we`ve been together for five – ”
Count `em.
“- years. We`ve been auditioning singers just recently, in fact.”

You have? Aha! Who?
“Well, as some of them are in name bands it wouldn`t be fair to say. We`ve tried out quite a lot though. I`ll say this: they could all sing alright; it`s more a question of finding the right combination of voice, personality and stage presence.”
And?
Silence and a deep pull of coffee.
Have you found The Man?
(Sure a lot of coffee in that cup.)
Well, will you attempt to keep The Act as it was so far as you can – and therefore in effect find another PG from the substitutes` bench?
Or will you use the different circumstances, the different mix of personalities (Headmasters` Conference Schools 3, Workies 2) in order to effect certain long-yearned-for but hitherto-unattainable revibings?
In other words, are you keeping it going – if you can – or planning a New Deal?
“We`re planning a tour of England next spring or in the New Year,” says Collins. “And what people will see, I should think, will be very close to what they saw before.”

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I see – so the opportunity to break down the Meccano and construct a new model is being passed over then? You guys are going to stick with the investment? (Which is reported to be pretty substantial, and not yet really covered by albums sales. Face it, silver is OK but gold is better – and when you have a roadshow like Genesis`, absolutely bloody essential.)
In other words, you`re looking for another Peter Gabriel?
Actually, I didn`t ask that. What I did do was light a cheap cigar and pause for thought.
Genesis have been going for about five years, maybe a bit longer. For at least three-fifths of that time they`ve been a massive crowd-puller, a Punters` Delight.
In an era of Symphonic Rock bands gone spare with theatre props and Day-glo Plaster-of-Paris footlight fittings, Genesis`ve held their own with the ELPs and the Yesses, equalled and frequently surpassed the Floyds, and totally blitzed the Barclay James Harvests.
This ferociously assiduous attention to visual detail, carefully cued in with the ornately-varnished lyrics and musical patterns, has been wowing `em in the three-and-nines (pounds, that is) so effortlessly for so long that their election to the Top Slot (Stage Bands) in most major music paper dolls has become as predictable as the 3.10 tide at Wapping Dock.
And during all this they haven`t really got much richer. In fact, if Rumour is to be believed (and the Dame can be problematic alright), the bread sunk in the band by various individuals and companies totals… a fair slice.

Normally, Sympho-rock bands With The Trimmings, expensive tho` they come, can manage to sell such an excess of long-players that with the first six-month audit period the mazuma comes rolling gleefully home to Mama. It happened with ELP, with Yes, with the Fluid, with Tull … but it hasn`t happened with Genesis, whose music is certainly no worse (to say the least) and whose presentation is vastly superior (to say the least).
This is the situation: Genesis don`t sell albums. Not in sufficient quantity, that is. Not in sufficient quantity in America, that is.
Why?
“I dunno,” says Collins, and for a second he looks almost despondent. But it doesn`t last. “I know a lot of musicians don`t get off on the presentation we have,” he says. “Even though they respect us as individual musicians.”
You mean, the sight of Peter Gabriel being hoisted up to Heaven while Tony Banks plays post-psychedelic Hosannas on Hammond doesn`t seem like rock `n` roll to these insensitive guys?
“Well, no … I can understand it to a certain extent, mind you.”
(So can I – but did Genesis ever claim to be playing rock? I don`t recall it.)
MIND YOU, Phil Collins is the last bloke to be worrying about his rock credentials. In fact, his papers are in such good order that a list of his recent sessions reads like a Who`s Who of This Year`s Thing.
I`ll mention no names.

Oh, all right – Eno (new album), John Cale (new album), Dave Hentschell (film score), Eddie Howell (album), Steve Hackett and Michael Rutherford of Genesis (new albums).
Collins himself is currently rehearsing/recording/thinking about composing for no less than three albums: the new Genesis LP, an album by his own second-string interest, a band called (for the time being) Brand X; and The Phil Collins Solo Album.
First, the Genesis album, which does not feature Peter Gabriel.
“We started writing for it right after `The Lamb Lies Down`.” says Collins. “I do most of the singing, actually – there`s just the four of us. We start recording soon… and we may feature one or two singers, as guest vocalists sort of, on a few tracks. And when we next go on the road I should think the concert will be drawn from this new LP`s material.”
Out in the Spring, folks.
“The group I`ve got… well, as soon as Genesis finish rehearsing this afternoon,” (he was en route for Trident Studios as soon as our interview finished). “I`ll be turning right round and going right back in the studio with Brand X.
“They`re all mates of mine, actually.
“We play sort of loose, funky stuff. Very loose. We sound a bit like Lifetime.”

And the solo album?
“I`ll start that later this year. It`s mainly stuff that for one reason or another didn`t make its way into Brand X Songs.”
Not “suites”, or even “movements”?
“Songs.”
Great. But say, isn`t there some danger of spreading yourself – yourselves, come to think of all those other solo LPs – too thin? I mean, shouldn`t all possible musical options be going into Genesis, which could still very definitely pay off with a hit LP? Even though, as yet, it hasn`t?
“I don`t think so. Almost everything any of us write goes to Genesis as first choice. If we all like it, then it gets in the repertoire. If it doesn`t take, it ends up on a solo album. By listening to Mike`s album you`ll be able to isolate his particular contribution to Genesis more clearly, by listening to Steve`s and mine the same.”
Time moves on and studio time don`t come cheap. Tell me, Phil, why didn`t “The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway” Do It in the US? As heavily praised as it was? With Rael and all that spooky sociological stuff? Jungian psychology an` that?

“The trouble was it was a double,” says Collins, with the air of a man who`s thrashed this particular bone of c. out many, many times in private with others more directly concerned. “That album should have been a single and our next could`ve been a double.”
You mean it was a slightly top heavy proposition for the East Coast punters – and a no-hoper for the West Coast, where the group have been far less exposed?
“Yeah.”
A bad move, eh? Tactically, I mean?
“Yeah.”
Do you regard all this as a setback?
“No… I`ve got to say, we`re all very optimistic. It`s a challenge, a different situation.”
You`re going to hang in there, right?
“Right.”
As much like before as you can make it, huh?
“That`s right.”
And in the meantime there`s Brand X, the solo album and all that prestigious and lucrative session work?
“Right.”
Do you think it`ll come to that? You know what I mean…
“Don`t know. Can`t tell. Don`t think so. Hope it won`t. I`m sure it won`t.
“We`re all really very optimistic.”

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I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

This number of New Musical Express also contains articles/interviews with these people: Procul Harum, Suzi Quatro, Andy Pratt, Uriah Heep, Buddy Holly.

This edition is sold!

ARTICLE ABOUT Rick Wakeman from New Musical Express, June 7, 1975

Very busy at work lately, so I am a little behind my ordinary schedule. But here is a short one that will please the Yes and Wakeman fans. In the article there is a number of 243,000 dollars mentioned – to get some sort of understanding of the relative value of this amount, this would be about $ 1,070,000 today.
Have a nice read.

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Arthur: only myself to blame…

Demoralised Wakeman spills the beans…

By Tony Tyler

Rick Wakeman picked me up outside the manufactory of King & Hutchings, Printers to the Gentry. He was driving the Rolls.
“What`s happened to the other cars?” I enquired. “Had to sell `em didn`t I?” said an ashen-faced Wakeman. “To pay for `Arthur`.”
“Tell me about it,” said I. “Let`s have a drink first,” said the chalky-visaged Rolls owner.
“First thing to emphasise,” said he, taking an uncharacteristically small sip of his light `n bitter, “is that others lost just as much money as I did.”
How much?
“Well…a lot,” said Wakeman, lighting a Tom Thumb and inhaling cautiously.
“I must emphasise,” emphasised Wakeman, “that I`m not exactly broke. Not broke. I`ve still got me assets – me companies, me synthesizers.
“I just haven`t got any cash”.

It transpires that Wakeman also lost 243,000 dollars on his recent tour of America with “Journey To The Centre Of The Earth”.
This is heavy news.
“But I gotta own up. I gotta say that I was strongly advised not to do the American tour – by Brian” (Lane) “by my accountants, by everybody who I pay to give me advice.
“I overrode `em all. It`s my ego that`s to blame.”
But no punters, Rick`s not defeated; by no means. His characteristically honest owning-up procedure is Wakeman`s own way of initiating a catharsis within himself and thus restoring his morale. He still likes his music, although he`s willing to concede that the Arthuriana semi-shambles was a severe tactical error – as was the American tour.
“I didn`t need to do that tour. By the time we got there the album (Journey To The Centre Of The Earth) “had already sold all it was going to sell and all we got was minimal sales as a result.
“I didn`t have to do this Arthur thing. I just wanted to.”
So let`s go into the fax.

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The fax are that when Wakeman announced his May concerts at Wembley, “no-one else was plannin` May concerts. The datesheet was clear. Then, all of a sudden, there`s Zeppelin, there`s Elton… and the kids don`t have that much money to spend – and we can`t put ticket prices up, no way – and they have to choose which concert they can afford.”
The original intention – when the gig was announced – was to play three evening concerts plus a matinee on the Saturday. “The whole thing cost about, say, £50,000 to put on and the extra show – the one extra show – would have given us the possibility of making a small profit. `Nough, say, to encourage us to keep it going.
“Then, when all those other shows got going, we knew we`d have to blow out the matinee.”
So you knew long before the concerts that you`d probably lose money?
“Yeah. But I was committed – and I don`t mean just financially. I`d said what I was going to do, against all the best advice, and no way could I pull out, even if I`d wanted to.
“Which I didn`t.
“There`s no-one else to blame but me.”
How`s your head?
“I`m a bit demoralised. Not destroyed. Demoralised.
“We had a meeting with the accountants. They said `First, Rick, is it possible to put on more shows without the orchestra and choir?` Well, it is. And that`s what I`m going to do.

“We`re going to Brazil.
“Pretty soon, in fact. With the six-piece band.
“And I`m getting my new album together. It`s going to be called `The Suite Of Gods` and it`ll be much closer to the `Six Wives` thing: six parts, each dedicated to a particular God of various mythologies… Zeus, Thor and so on. No orchestras. Just the six-piece.”
But he still defends “Arthur”.
“I stand by it musically. I did an incredible amount of research in order to make it work. See, I believe that people want some visual thing – not just me plonking about…”
Why not Just You Plonking About?
“Cos I`m not that sort of feller.”
So a quick summary of Rick Wakeman`s post “Henry VIII” solo career would appear to be…
“Wrote `Journey`. Recorded it. Album sold well. Was advised against going to the States. Went anyway. Lost 243,000 dollars – which I`ve only just found out about, by the way. Came back via Australia and Japan, where we did about 14 gigs in 50 days. Lost money. Back to England. Did `Arthur`. It sold well. Did the concerts. Lost money.”
So it`s Farewell Grandiosity. Hello The Simple Life, eh?
“You`re not kidding.”

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I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own  webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

This number of New Musical Express also contains articles/interviews with these people: Billy Connolly, Sailor, Status Quo, Elton John, Henry Cow, Robert Wyatt, Report on New bands in New York, John Cipollina, Herb Rooney (Exciters), Chris Squire, Cecil Taylor, Patti Smith and Television.

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 15 $ (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 Lemmy (Hawkwind) FROM NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS, February 8, 1975

This is quite special – to read an interview with Lemmy before he started his own band. Only a few months later he would be fired from Hawkwind and we all know what happened thereafter. Rarely does a member from a band go out and start a bigger band than the one that he/she was originally with, but Lemmy did it. He and…Joan Jett? Who else? Anyone?

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“Knock knock!”
“Who`s there?”
“Lemmy”
“Lemmy who?”
“Lemmy in or I`ll kick yer door down!”

A Feature Profile on H. Wind`s Spaceman Bassman, supported by occasional out-of-context quotes provided by the Interviewee

By Tony Tyler
Pic: Pennie Smith
Harley-Davidson: Lemmy`s mate

Lemmy`s real name is Ian Kilmister but “Lemmy” sounds a good deal heavier. And if you remember the BBC`s “Journey Into Space”, you might just recall that the original Big L was the sidekick of one Jet Morgan, urbane spaceman for the airwaves of fifties Britain.
Now Jet Morgan`s Lemmy was a sort of 21st Century Tonto, the Sancho Panza of the Spaceways. He was a cheerful syncophant and a boy wonder at fixing meteorite patches. However, unlike his earlier namesake, Lemmy the Bass sports no visual anonymity to mask his image. For Lemmy, Image is just about everything he`s got (and I`m assuming he`s finished paying for his bass).
This single-minded concentration on a particular Image has produced some curious side-effects in Lemmy, not the least of which is his natural friendliness. Mind you, he`ll probably kill me for calling him “friendly,” because the way Lemmy sees the world, overt sympathy goes badly against the Image and is therefore unacceptable. But we`ll get to all that later.

No, there`s not been much about the music of H. Wind so far. In fact, there isn`t going to be. In fact, I`m leading up to an examination of the premise on which `Wind touts its sounds, and of the illusions under which I believe they labour – if their seemingly-menacing-but-actually-soft-as-old-roaches bassist is any guide to the rest of the group. To tell the truth, H. Wind`s music is not really my bowl of ginseng, although its remote progenitors did once have an effect upon by youthful cerebrellum, and the real reason for The Lemmy Interview is because…uh…because I`ve known him for years; and so when his name cropped up in the Great Publicity Roundup recently (not unconnected with a then-concurrent tour of Our Damaged Isle), I volunteered for the gig.
Because I felt I`d Probably Get Him to Open Up, that`s why.
And anyway, the idea of actually interviewing Lemmy seemed at once so grotesque and so appropriate that it just had to be done.

Swift resume: my first-ever view of Ian Kilmister was way back in `67 and I came with a friend to, er, score. As I recall, Lemmy wasn`t holding any real quantity but we skinned up anyway; and so my first recollections of the lad involve incense, exotic cheroots, the Beck “Truth” LP and Lemmy (who even then had a decidedly unhealthy complexion) turning green as he copped the Beck licks on a battered Strat, a joint like a 105mm cannon traversing from side to side of his trap.
Those were the days of the Rockin` Vicars, I guess – a saga that`ll have to wait.
At all events, one collided with one spasmodically over the next few years until Lemmy announced that he was joining a band called Hawkwind.
Hawkwind? Are they like Quintessence?
Three years passed. H. Wind began to acquire a kind of buzz that, back in `66, would have netted them some real kudos. As it was they got Stacia; and lights; and they got Underground Credibility, which says a lot for the state of U.C. in `70 or so. The music? Four hours in 4/4 with an occasional trot into 8/8 (“Because it`s there”) and little else, apart from farts from Putney synthesizers. But they began to attract Followers, notably SF novelist Michael Moorcock, the Dennis Wheatley of our Time. (Whom `Wind still take to, by the way.) Bleary-eyed, redded-out infants nodded cataleptically to the True Inheritors of Hapshash. Coloured Coat and all. And Lemmy played on.

Underground papers wrote features. One I remember was by a fresh-faced ingenue called Nick Kent and appeared in Frendz. It was of course well-written…but it was naive (and it`s been a long time since anyone used that adjective about Nicky the K.)
Other music papers wrote features. They had to, really. In `70/71 the Undergrounds were running rings around the weeklies (NME included) for depth and breadth of commitment etc – all good grassroots Wind territory. Mind you, the weeklies` articles tended towards Coy Chronologues of Chemicals Consumed, or pieces on How Hawkwind Got Busted In Guildford For The Ninety-Eight Time Last Tuesday – and NME`s Aaron Zilch Was There etc. But there actually wasn`t much to write about…hippies…dope…a few lights…tits…there was no middle ground, and The Wind were dead lucky not to be totally savaged when `72/`73 dawned and the current of critical sympathy began to run against counter-cultural dinosaurs and simplistic political theorising.
But really, all Hawkwind actually ever did was play some instruments (more or less as they`d planned to), fall about a bit and generally come off a lot less unpleasant than, say – oh, sod these perjorative asides. They got the Vote. Or enough of it.
Also, the rhythm section improved.

Ok, so that`s Hawkwind`s progress more or less encapsulated, minus that odd hit single and the gradual climb up the ladder of solvency. What about Lemmy?
Now our interview went on for a very long time, and during that session we talked a lot, mostly about politics/economics/etcetera, i.e. Lemmy`s ideas on the aforementioned. And in all that tape there seemed to be very little that broke new territory. And we hardly talked about music at all.
What actually emerged was a sort of study of one particular individual, a musician, who (I believe) actually holds opinions almost the opposite of those he believes he holds, whose philosophy of life is based on easy-to-assimilate ideograms which he knows will stay in his brain despite what else he pours in on top; and whose desperate pursuit of a tough-guy image is simultaneously comic and oddly moving.
Nonetheless, let`s kick off with a heavy quote, the kind that reveals plenty about Lemmy the Guy. Quite frankly, I couldn`t give a hoot about Lemmy the Bassist. Who needs music when your interviewee comes out with things like…

“My father was a vicar – a padre in the RAF. I last saw him on Fulham Broadway when I was 26.
“That was also the first time I`d seen him.”
Huh?
“He`d sworn to `love, honour and obey` – and when the child was a few months old, off he goes. And that`s it for 26 years!
“Now that`s the lowest kind of shit.
“Then he wrote to my mother saying `What can I do for the boy?` – pangs of remorse! Anyway, we arranged to meet – went for a  meal and talked”.
And?
“What could he do for me, he asked. Sure, he wanted to help, but only on his own terms…college…a course or something -he`d have paid, he said.
“I said `Give me five thousand pounds and get out of my life`.
“He said `What for?` I told him: to start a group. He said `No`. I walked out of the restaurant there and then. Haven`t seen him since.
“If I do I`ll break his back.”

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The point of that harrowing little tale is to perhaps draw an arrow in the direction of where Lemmy`s street-outlaw “toughness” comes from.
Yet, Lemmy, can`t you forgive the poor fart? I mean, a vicar? He must be in a much worse state.
And Lemmy duly withdraws the back-breaking “threat”, but there`s no real identification with the plight of the rockin` vicar so far as I can see. No, the padre has blown it el permanento so far as his son is concerned. And I`m not in Lemmy`s place, so I can`t argue.
Anyway, Lemmy made it, didn`t he? In music, that is. So he must have been right to walk out on his old man.
Now don`t go getting the idea that Lemmy is some kind of patho, all bitter and twisted on account of his runaway pa. On the contrary, as I`ve said above, he`s unconsciously nicer than he would probably prefer to be, quite a decent fella in fact, not stingy with his stash if you take my meaning. And he likes a nice chat does Lemmy.
Now here`s where the other worry sets in, the bit about him – and presumably, his colleagues in Britain`s Longest-lived Underground Band – not thinking his ideas through. He contradicts himself, just at the very instance when he needs to do the opposite, and though he`s an unselfconscious rapper, too often his phrases go round in circles.

What`s that got to do with the music? Plenty, I should say.
Yet he can still get to the point when he wants to (which is, as you`ll have observed, when there`s a chip on the leather shoulder.) “I got well pissed off at that piece in Melody Maker. The guy wrote in these…sounds, like `uh` and `um` that I`m supposed to make when I`m talking. Just to make me sound gormless. I don`t talk that way”. Nor does he, but he`s newly-enough come to fame (well, sort of fame) to be rather naive about journalists and journalistic techniques. In fact, for a while he was all set to have me submit this article to him for “approval” or even “a quick look”. The word “censorship” would of course quite genuinely horrify him.
Are you still with us? I mean, you might have pissed off to read the LP reviews. That`s it, be a good little consumer…meantime, my friend Lemmy and I will give you a few choice extracts from the H. Wind Lifestyle Rulebook.
Lemmy: “The main thing this generation is learning is how to be a good criminal!”

Windmanager Doug Smith: “Now hang on–”
Lemmy: “–By hangin` on to us, by lockin` us up, by fining us whatever they like for walking through the streets dressed the way we wanna look…”
Smith: “Now it`s not as bad as–”
Lemmy: “–Lockin` us up–”
Smith: “Listen Lemmy, what those kids out there” (he means Windfans) “are doing is one thing only: surviving. In a society based upon someone else`s economic planning.”
Yeah, it`s a bit like Dave Spart and his older sister Clara, but Smith, older, suaver, more cultivated and commanding and somehow not too overbearing (certainly he`s well thought-of by many folks I know) is less extreme, more reasoned, far less sloganised. And in debating the subject of economic exploitation, Smith wins – because not only has he thought about it, he does it. Every day.

It turns out that the Wind-wealth is handles thusly: each week Smith prunes off enough to float the next week and pay the wages, and the rest gets ploughed straight back in. Times are hard, and there was that enormous and spectacular Tax Bust in the States recently which could only happen to Hawkwind, when you think of it. (So carried away is Lemmy with the frankness in the room that he`s actually on the point of telling me how much his weekly wages are before Smith forestalls him.)
Let`s face it: Hawkwind are still on the road, still fielding a road crew, still giving Lemmy his wages every week so that he can go straight out and – I promised not to say. So the system works as far as they`re concerned. Outlaws?
Anyway, suffice it to say that during the three-way rap we ran the entire gamut of Cradle Thinktankery, with Lemmy`s passionate naivetes gently and almost endlessly being corrected by the careful Smith. I get the impression that Lemmy believes in Peoples` Capitalism – and can`t make it work, no way, not for him or anybody else. Whereas Smith can articulate it – and most obviously makes it work – but doesn`t hold it as an ideology, no matter what he protests.
But Lemmy`s not really interested in cash, just in what it will buy, like any other reasonably sane person. And what it buys Lemmy is a superb black leather-gubbins a la mode, with Camden Passage Nazi regalia dangling from his neck. To him, this is his Lincoln Green – the garb of the Street Outlaw.

What is an outlaw, Lemmy?
Is an Outlaw posing on a borrowed Harley for an NME front cover? (In fact, after that issue, in another part of which we mentioned that Lem`d been seen gazing hungrily into the window of the Take 6 boutique, we received a postcard from France: “Ta for the front page but watch it with the Take 6. This is a shit country. Lemmy”. But he sent it; hardly the gesture of an Ulrike Meinhof, or a Patty Hearst, hein?)
No, for Lemmy an Outlaw is still largely a Romantic Figure – and you can tell RFs by the way they dress most of all. Hence the leathers and the Iron Cross and the long lank hair, and the prized relationship with Hells Angels.
“See this?” “This” is a grimy, much-patched card, proclaiming Lemmy an Honorary Member of such-and-such a Chapter. Lemmy says, yes, he can ride a motorcycle, he just doesn`t happen to own one right now. Not yet anyway. In the meantime, he`s got all the accessories, including the cultivated air of hoodlum menace which is about as valid or as necessary as that sported by various members of Sha Na Na. Just like those guys, he doesn`t need all that jive.

But I don`t think Lemmy`ll ever be convinced. His pose, though discernable to other as such, is completely real to him. His emotional commitment to a stylistic chimaera is 100 per cent complete. And I got to say he seems no less cheerful than anybody else I know, so maybe he`s hit on something without realising it.
As I rise to leave the Urban Guerilla apologetically starts rooting through a filing cabinet. He`s looking for…a photograph! Of himself! But he can`t find it.
A week later it arrives. It`s a pic of Lemmy on a huge, huge motorcycle. You know, the one he borrowed from a friend.

Some succeeded and others never did.

Some succeeded and others never did.

I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

This number of New Musical Express also contains articles/interviews with these people: Elliot Cahn (Sha Na Na), John Cale, Nick Drake, Eric Clapton, Sly Stone, Bo Diddley, Supertramp, Chick Corea.

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 around or upwards of 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 YES FROM NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS, November 30, 1974

This is my fourth article with the band Yes. I think there will be even more in the future. A very special band indeed, as this article shows quite clearly. They had recently employed a new keyboard player and released their album “Relayer” at the time of this report.
I hope you like it – have fun!

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Out of the Moraz and into the Miso soup

Relax. Patrick Moraz is doing fine. But there`s some guy called Wakeman who`s a trifle unpopular with these boys.

`After a few mouthfuls of the stuff I felt my pulse begin to race, and my skin began to glow with a sort of radiant sheen,` reports TONY TYLER with desperate enthusiasm as he joins the austere YES entourage on another clean, healthy, successful tour of America.

The waitress`s name is Giselle, though you can think of her as Shelley Winters. She`s fat, fair and 40 (well, 45), Very Feminine and only moderately floozy.
She hovers anxiously.
“It`s all vegetarian food, every bit”, she confides, to no-one in particular, though she`s doing a surreptitious bit of checking out from under the mascara. Me, I`d say she`s a meat-eater but she seems keen all the same that these boys should enjoy their nuts and stuff.
“Having a party later?”
Well, no, lady, this is a Yes tour. We`re just planning on going quietly to bed. She looks at the table – which is groaning under the assembled weight of Stuffed Summer Squash, Japanese Miso Soup, chopped fresh fruit `n` nuts, quiche a la Holiday Inn – and sighs a little regretfully. She splits in disgust.
Which is not to say that healthfood isn`t culinarily exciting or good for you. In fact, after only a few mouthfuls of the stuff I felt my pulses begin to race and my skin began to glow with a sort of radiant sheen. It`s just that healthfood doesn`t exactly do much for the libido, the satiation of which, as everyone knows, is one of the chief benefits of accompanying a Major English Group on a Stateside Tour.

Personally, I was a little sorry to see Shelley Winters depart but there`s no doubt the members of Yes were utterly indifferent to her presence.
Who needs ageing nookie when there`s a flagon of fresh-squeezed apple juice still unquaffed?
Yes, sir, it`s a clean band. But need that come between us? The spectacle of rock groups making toadstools out of themselves while enjoying the usual US tour debauch is common enough. But Yes means No Excess – and this feature`s initial zeroing in on the healthfood angle was not prompted by any desire on my part to expose the group to ridicule.
Rather, it was a need to acknowledge that, in their case, this clean living works. They exude a quiet confidence in their music. They munch their vitamin-rich food in the pleasant certitude that it`s doing them good.
They do not run shrieking down hotel corridors covered in a mixture of steak sauce and feathers from hotel cushions.

Why, a couple of U.S. tours ago Jon Anderson and Chris Squire cruised round to the New York Hotel of Another Well known Sympho-rock Band and entered to find the suite absolutely stiff with loathsome unclad flesh in any variety of absurd postures, all contorted with ogreish passion and the effects of several hundred dollars` worth of expensive drugs. And Anderson and Squire had come over to talk about music!
But you don`t want to hear about these things. The question On Everyone`s Lips is,: can Patrick Moraz crack the coconut? Does a Keyboard Wizard from Geneva compensate for a Keyboard Wizard from Gerrards Cross?
And another is: what the hell happened to Vangelis Papahanassiou? Whither the Roaming Greek?
More on these burning issues later, friends of Yes. In the meantime let`s move in on the situation. Yes are currently into their second week of a US tour which is widely believed to precede a British tour of similar duration. But Brian Lane, Yes` manager, who is tall, wry and slightly bearded, hints that UK dates may not come together for a while and, when they do, are likely to be few in number.

It`s this damn recession, you see, which is taking the cutting edge off profits that touring groups can make in the US and elsewhere. US tax laws are stiffer than they were. There are anxious eyes on the kitty.
Seems to me there`s little to worry about just yet. Madison Square Gardens was sold out and the stadium at Buffalo N.Y. almost so, which is not bad for a dump like Buffalo. “I get cold feet sometimes worrying about whether the grosses are going to be there”, says Lane, who hasn`t had to sweat too much yet on this particular outing.
Nevertheless, it`s a Moot Period for the group, what with the Wakeman/Papathanassiou/Moraz situation – and, in fact, the reason for my presence is because Lane senses that it`s time Yes were seen to be together and functioning once more. And after all, many Yesfans follow Rick Wakeman`s career. (Brian Lane also manages Wakeman, by the way.)
Does the situation really need a recap? Wakeman split last summer, after much speculation brought about by his successful solo concerts. Silence for a while. Then the Magic Name Vangelis Papathanassiou is mentioned. More silence. Then it`s announced that Patrick Moraz, ex-Refugee keyboardist, is to join the group as a full member. More silence. And now this US tour, which, of course is designed to coincide with the release of a New Album: “Relayer”. And this review/interview is the first publicity the group have actively sought since those troubled times.

A natural place for us to truck on over to would be Madison Square Garden, the evening of last Wednesday. Except that Your Reporter, jet-lagged out of his brain and swaying with fatigue, was in no condition to view or even hear the band and anyway, he was stashed behind the stage beyond the range of even the monitor system.
I can report on the crowd, though, who were extremely numerous (pushing 20,000, I`d say), clad in denim and velvet and very clean. My review: Thunderous Shouts of Applause and otherwise zilch, so for a closer view of the new Yes, a fast change to the following night`s gig, at Buffalo, upstate New York.
Now this town is a dump, no getting away from it. Flat, boring and decidely crummy. Nonetheless, it`s fairly large and can muster at least 15,000 Yes-fans at any given moment so accordingly the group are playing the local stadium.

The concert was – dare I say it? – pretty immaculate and well up to the standards the group have set for themselves. And if the audience applauded the appearance of dry ice… well, we can be charitable in this instance – especially as it was just one of a staggering display of Special Effects.
One assumes it`s the “Topographic Oceans” stage set-up they`re using, though I didn`t see their last Rainbow concerts and can`t be sure. Would that be the one with the Two Gigantic Sea-monsters Locked In Battle? One shaped like a crab and the other like a clamshell? Well, it was the same at Buffalo, N.Y.
These monsters move about, wave their arms, flash alarmingly and contain, within their foetid embrace, two plinths on which are arranged Alan White plus drums and Patrick Moraz plus keyboards. The other three musicians – Steve Howe, Jon Anderson and Chris Squire – occupy their normal left/centre/right positions, each with a portion of carpet to pace.
The best thing is, they all enter via a huge sea-shell (just like Botticelli`s The Birth of Venus, only uglier).

The gig itself was surprisingly good (at least, to a person who has often had reservations about Symphonic Rock and its offshoots). The usual Long Pauses For Individual Soloing have been greatly cut back, and though the music was extraordinarily complicated, these convolutions seem to work much better with Moraz in the group. He`s very much a textural player, and nowhere near as flamboyant as Wakeman. (“Also, Patrick stays in tune”, grunted another member of the band, a little later).
He seemed, in fact, to be more at ease than Steve Howe, who played extremely fast but (I thought) a little jaggedly and nervously. I got the impression he was somewhat hemmed in by his array of guitars, pedal steels, sitar-guitars on stands and so on. He ducked and twitched throughout the concert and seemed uncomfortable, though of course, he never missed a single cue.
But none of them did, so far as I can tell – though even if they had I`m sure no-one would know. If they got paid by the note they`d be richer than Rockefeller, that`s for sure.

My reservations about unnecessary complication are still there, even after I`ve seen their arrangements delivered faultlessly, but it`s all very carefully worked-out. Yet the best moment of the concert was a piece called “Soon”, slow and melodic, from the New Album (it`s actually a coda to another section called “The Gates of Delirium”, but we`ll let that pass).
Material ranged from New Stuff, a tip of the hat towards Older Stuff (a medley from “Yessongs”, thunderously received by the enormous crowd) and, of course, Side Four of “Topographic Oceans” itself. (“We`re still proud of that album,” Alan White later pronounced, and indeed the entire group were heard to wade in on its defence with a kind of cool anger that it should have been criticised in the first place.)
It was an excellent concert, and reminded me of nothing so much as early Crimson, though with a better stage presentation. BUT ENOUGH of this review stuff. By a magical process available only to writers, we now move swiftly through time to Jon Anderson`s hotel room, about four hours later. Seated there are the entire group, plus producer/mixerman Eddie Offord, plus Brian Lane.

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Tell me about the Wakeman split.
“Are people still interested in that?” grunts Alan White, and a whole battle ensues. It`s obvious they don`t want to talk about it.
But didn`t he quit because of “Topographic Oceans”?
“The thing is, every time Rick had ideas that he went straight to the Press,” says someone rather bitterly. Anderson adds: “It was his prerogative to state what he wanted to state. But you say he didn`t enjoy the Rainbow concerts? Well, we can tell you he got very upset and emotional about it.”
There are nods and grunts of assent. This feller Wakeman is not too popular, I`d say, though they don`t knock his subsequent musical efforts.
Somebody else says that Wakeman made a noise to promote his own career.
“Basically, Rick was a bit lazy on the album itself,” murmurs Eddie Offord, who I would guess is the only member of the group with anything like a self-deprecatory sense of humour. “And when he came to play it onstage he found he wasn`t getting off on any of it.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” asks Chris Squire.
Tell me about Vangelis the Greek, then.
“After he read the NME article he didn`t want to know,” says Squire.
No, the real story.
The real story is that Vangelis the Greek lives in Paris and makes high-quality free music. For a while the group persuaded themselves that a fusion could be brought about, but somehow interest got lost and the idea was allowed to die.
“Playing on his own he`s quite extraordinary,” admits Anderson. “But when, well, when we got together it just didn`t seem to work for some reason.” Perhaps Vangelis could tell us why, but he ain`t there, and anyway the answer seems obvious to me, though they don`t appear to see it.
(A titbit I later picked up was that Vangelis the Greek is actually something of a raver, and certain members of this most decidedly non-raving band felt a little dubious about his lifestyle. Back to distinguished limbo for Papathanassiou.)

But this Keyboard Search was difficult, no?
“We were looking for something, but we didn`t know what,” says Anderson.
“We were actually fully prepared to make the album as a four-piece,” says Squire.
But Fate intervened and Patrick Moraz (who doesn`t seem to mind being called Morose, or even Morass, and who`s actually rather pleasant) entered stage left with a blare of ARP synthesizers.
“I just came along to see them rehearse,” says Moraz, after a certain silence. (“He just happened to know when and where to come,” chuckles someone else). “And I was in Switzerland doing a film score. I came back one weekend and Brian phoned me up.”
They got together and Patrick sat and watched Yes play the material from the new LP for over an hour without contributing a note. Yet that same evening he was in the band, and they`d already changed some of the arrangements to suit his more textural style of musicianship.
But of course, there was this matter of health food. Was he vegetarian beforehand? “Well, not actually. But I feel much better for it already.”
(He`s a wise cookie. One report I heard said that, when asked if he was a vegetarian, his initial reply was: “If necessary”.)

Did he plan to leave Refugee before receiving the offer from Yes?
“I didn`t plan to leave anyone,” he says – but I heard a strong whisper afterwards that he had in fact already decided to call that band A Day. Yes, he says openly, was the first group he ever saw which he liked, and he was the very last of all to be auditioned for it. He also got the gig, which I suppose is something for all those years of waiting.
There actually seems to be a certain degree of bashfulness concerning the exact circumstances around Moraz` joining Yes, probably out of a desire not to number Refugee`s Lee Jackson or Brian Davison. Yet Moraz, who is understandably treading most warily, speaks highly of both as people, though not as musicians. (“They weren`t…dedicated enough, you know?” he says a little later).
But come on, Patrick, surely there was some personal wrench? Like, you were the main man in Refugee. If Keith Emerson was to leave ELP there`d be no LP, right?
“I don`t think Greg would agree with you,” mutters Chris Squire. Loud laughter.

“Listen”, says Moraz, at last coming out of his shell. “You talk about Refugee…that is something different. I felt I had to do the real thing for once, to step towards something that was…real…and good.”
“And knowing his position as it stood,” says Squire, “you`re instantly told that he put aside his concern for their future. He had to.”
Ah. Now we come to it.
“When I first went to rehearse with Alan and Steve and Jon and Chris,” says Moraz, “they were rehearsing `Sound Chaser` (a track from the New Elpee, and one which currently opens their show). “Steve showed me the chords. But after a while I began to think `What am I doing here?`. There were some good vibes, but they were…uncatchable.”
Did he feel at any time that he wouldn`t be able to do the job?
“I wouldn`t go as far as this but…I have been very frightened”, he says. (Earlier on, he`d told me that he was “playing safe” for the moment, “though I will perhaps prepare some solo piece to do before the end of the tour…(sigh)…there is so much to remember”.)

“Hey fellers,” he suddenly says, “how am I doing?” There is a bashful silence. Jon Anderson wriggles a bit. “Well, you know…great,” he says, his eyes shining.
Yes, this bunch are everything Legend Makes Them Out To Be. They don`t screw on the road, booze and suchlike are kept firmly in moderation – and, of course, there`s all that nutritious brown rice. There are many jokes about the band`s obsession with Clean Living, but perhaps the best illustration of their attitude is the story of how we negotiated for an NME front cover.
Our idea was to pose a picture with the group doing a “Beggars Banquet” – i.e., crouched around an enormous pyramid of brown rice with their fingers covered in grease and lettuce.
I sort of visualised them ferociously thrusting great goblets of food into their mouths and grinning manically. I put this idea to Brian Lane, trying to state that I thought such a picture would lay the ghost of healthfood once and for all.
Like, surely they must be fed up with having the piss taking out of them all the time for a perfectly harmless gastronomic decision?
Back came the answer – after an interlude for deliberation. No, they wouldn`t agree, but not because it would make them look ridiculous.
No, friends of Yes. Their reason for declining the idea was because with So Much Starvation In The World Today It Wouldn`t Do To Come On Like Gannets.
You`ve just got to applaud.

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I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

This number of New Musical Express also contains articles/interviews with these people: Elton John, The Crystals, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, John Sebastian, Fanny, Rod Stewart, Johnny Winter, Frank Zappa, Magna Carta, Ray Shulman (Gentle Giant).

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 around or upwards of 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 Pink Floyd FROM NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS, MAY 19, 1973

I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

Here is an interview with the guitarist of one of the most popular bands in the world ever. Have a nice read!

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A walk on the dark side…
Dave Gilmour looks back at the Floyd record career

By Tony Tyler

“Don`t take any pictures of me outside the house”, says David Gilmour, making a quick, impatient gesture like brushing away flies. “I can`t stand the pop-star-in-his-country-house syndrome.”
Sure David, but in the broadest sense you are a pop star. And when you`re the guitarist for famous, bestselling Pink Floyd, and you`ve made as many decent albums as Pink Floyd have, and you`ve gone the whole route long ago, and you`ve still got your wits about you, and the money keeps rolling in, what else is there to spend the bread on?
And it has to be said that Dave Gilmour`s spent his allotted share of the Floyd takings in a manner befitting one of the most tasteful bands of our time. His Essex mock-Tudor residence positively screams good taste – the real sort, not Ghastly Good Taste – and is conspicuous for its lack of middle-class accoutrements.
All rooms are in that happy state of disarray that comes from a relaxed lifestyle, the world is fenced out by a high hedge and the BMW in the garage and the swimming pool out back give off identical expensive glints.

Gilmour, wearing a T-shirt that says “Didn`t they do well” in sewn-on white letters, is lounging in a rocking-chair in front of a gorgeous, ornate, teak altar-screen that just radiates antiquity.
This morning though, despite the surrounding comforts and the presence of his lady at his side to succour him, the Floyd guitarist is in a somewhat fragile state, having visited the Marquee the previous evening (in the company of Roger Waters) to catch Roy Buchanan`s set.
He`s a little tired and he may, or may not, have been a little inebriated the night before – he can`t quite remember. Anyway, it isn`t important because this is the first interview he`s done for ages and neither of us can quite remember the procedure and there`s a lot to get through before lunchtime ennui sets in.

First off, David, congratulations on finally attaining the exalted No. 1 spot in the States with “Dark Side of the Moon”. A slow smile spreads across the Gilmour face.
“Yes, it is nice isn`t it? We`ve never really been above fortieth position before – but, even so, we`re still selling more albums there than we would in the English charts.”
He`s reluctant to be pinned down as to why this should suddenly happen, after five years of being a cult band in America. (I suppose we`ve always had this sort of underground image over there”), and he`s even more reluctant to define what Floyd`s appeal is in the States, or even what type of audiences the group attract. In fact, he doesn`t seem particularly interested in anything, taking the whole process with a combination of affable ennui and the tiniest hint of indifference.
“I don`t think it`ll make any change – I mean, we`ve never had any problem selling out even the largest halls and I don`t really see how that can change. We can still sell out the Santa Monica Civic two nights in succession and I`m not sure that the album will make any difference to that”.

Nonetheless, one is aware that perhaps the success of “Dark Side” took the band a little by surprise, as no tour has been planned to actually coincide with the peaking of the album. Though they are off again in June. Anyway…
Tea arrives and conversation briefly returns to the Marquee, where Gilmour had been spotted a couple of weeks ago. He seems to be a regular denizen. “In fact, I was down there that night to see Quiver.”
Gilmour was, at one time, a member of a group which included one of the present Quiver lineup, and Gilmour takes an interest in the group`s progress.

An interesting sidelight is his reference to Floyd as – “this band – I`ve been five years in this band” – as if he expected Floyd to finish tomorrow; and then you realise that he`s first and foremost a musician and the lead guitar chair in Pink Floyd is just another gig.
Floyd may one day disappear but Gilmour intends to keep right on playing…

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Back to “Dark Side”, and I advance the hypothesis that the album shows a marked return to solid purpose that, for me, had been somewhat lacking in Floyd`s last three or so albums, good though they`ve been individually. Gilmour ponders this.
“I suppose so. Certainly there`s a sort of theme running through it which we haven`t really done for a long time. There`s two opinions about this in the group – half of us wanted to play a thematic piece, the other half wanted to play a collection of songs.”
Which half did he belong to? A reappearance of the slow smile. “I didn`t object, anyway.
“It`s basically Roger`s idea. We`d all written songs beforehand, and then Roger got the theme and the words together.”
I point out that, for the first time, the band have considered album lyrics important enough to print on the sleeve. “Yes, I generally don`t like sleeve lyrics”. End of subject.

The theme behind “Dark Side” is, of course, the various pressures that can drive one mad – “pressures directed at people like us, like `Money`, `Travel`, and so on”.
I remark that the piece has changed markedly since I saw it premiered at the Rainbow in 1972. Gilmour agrees, mentioning that the entire show had been on the road for about six months before the group took the project into the studio.
“Normally, we go into the studio, often without any concrete ideas, and allow the circumstances to dictate the music”.
Sometimes, though, this results in filler tracks (for example, the jokey sides on “Ummagumma” and “Atom Heart Mother”) and besides, isn`t it an expensive way to record? “No. We don`t pay. EMI do”.

Another marked feature of the album is Gilmour`s own blossoming into a tough, bluesy player – especially on “Money”, which features several verses of really hard, spectacular licks.
Gilmour shrugs this off modestly, although Ginger, his lady, chimes in with her agreement that it represents Gilmour at his best. He thinks some of his playing on “Obscured By Clouds” is better, but concedes that “Money” was designed as a basically guitar track.
Other features from “Dark Side`s” live performance are also missing – noticeably the taped finale which uses extracts from the Collected Rantings of Malcolm Muggeridge. “Yes. Well, you didn`t really expect we`d get his permission, did you?”

He confesses that he never really listens to Floyd albums, and he`s reluctant to assess them in retrospect – but I detect a leaning towards “Obscured by Clouds”, which he has been known to direct into the garden on a summer`s day.
Others? Well, he likes some of the tracks on “Saucerful of Secrets”, mainly the title track and “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun”.
“Atom Heart Mother” he admits to have been an experiment, not a new direction, and he would record it completely differently now, had he the chance or the inclination.
“The trouble was, we recorded the group first and put the brass and the choir on afterwards. Now, I think I`d do the whole thing in one take. I feel that some of the rhythms don`t work and some of the syncopations aren`t quite right.”

Another period which Floyd dabbled in, but which didn`t really communicate itself to our ears via concrete Floyd music, was their flirtation with the French avant-garde and with ballet.
“In fact, we did that ballet for a whole week in France. Roland Petit choreographed it to some of our older material… but it`s too restricting for us. I mean, I can`t play and count bars at the same time. We had to have someone sitting on stage with a piece of paper telling us what bar we were playing…
“We also did the music for `More`. We hadn`t done film scores before, – but they offered us lots of money. We wrote the whole thing in eight days from start to finish.
“We did `Zabriskie Point` for Antonioni, and in fact we wrote much more than he eventually used. I feel, even now, that it would have been better if he`d used most of what we`d written.”

I put it to Gilmour that these wanderings from the band`s direct line of progression have been received by fans with disappointment.
He gets a little heated. “That`s the trouble – you can`t really break out of the progression-from-your-last-LP rut. People`s minds are set to expect something and if you don`t provide it, well…”

Many Floyd aficionados still feel that “Ummagumma” was the group`s high point. Gilmour disagrees. “For me, it was just an experiment. I think it was badly recorded – the studio side could have been done better. “We`re thinking of doing it again”.
But we don`t have time to explore the meaning behind that because now it`s time for Gilmour to show off his music room and, for the first time since this interview began, he comes to life.

Earlier, he`d told us that his opinion of the Music Press was that it was, well, irrelevant to Pink Floyd (“we don`t really need the Music Press and they don`t really need us”) and his attitude during the interview had been one of mild amusement coupled with disbelief at the workings of the journalistic mind.
But when we cross the carpet and enter the little room full of electronic equipment, he becomes a New Man.
Most private music rooms I`ve seen have been sterile, formal places, not, in my opinion, suited vibewise to the creative process – but Gilmour`s is lived-in and it works.

The usual tape recorders and eight-track stuff are there but there`s also a drumkit (Nick Mason`s? “No, mine”), about 12 guitars, ranging from a Strat through a `59 Les Paul Custom to a Les Paul Junior hanging on the wall, a Les Paul-type electric guitar (“custom-made, naturally”) and a beautiful classical guitar (“custom-made, naturally”).
But pride of place goes to the newest toy, a special synthesizer made by EMS (who make the VCS3) which, Gilmour assures us, is not on the market and never will be.
He plugs in the Strat and this device, rather like a plastic pulpit with pedals mounted underneath, gives off some of the most incredible sounds we`ve ever heard. And that includes every Pink Floyd album.
There`s a fader that lowers the note an octave, a whining fuzz device which couples into that, and, most uncanny of all, a phase “Itchycoo Park”-type effect that resembles a Phantom doing a ground strike somewhere in South East Asia.
Believers, you`re in for some hair-raising sounds when Gilmour gets this weapon on the road, as he says he intends to.

Looking at David Gilmour as he coaxes these apocalyptic noises from his guitar, one can see why he and the rest of Pink Floyd feel remote from the workings of the music business.
Gilmour in our interview never really came to life because he hasn`t any stake in successful musicbiz rapport with the Press – but he`s said more about Pink Floyd in 30 seconds of divebombing with the Strat and the Synthi HiFli than all the interviews in the world would ever do. And, really, isn`t that what it`s all about?

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A real nice ad in tnis NME for the newest album by Suzi Quatro. Can you spot the album`s name?

This number of the NME also contains articles/interviews with these people: Roy Buchanan, Golden Earring, Linda McCartney, Alice Cooper, Faces, Strawbs, David Bowie, Hatfield and the North, Jack The Lad, John Surman.

This edition is sold!