Side 4 - Was it Really Necessary?

How exciting!  In April, I am going to meet up with some old friends to see the Genesis tribute band, ‘The Musical Box’ play the whole of the ‘Lamb Lies Down on Broadway’ show, complete with costumes and back projection, at the Shepherds Bush Empire. Our little band of gig-goers first met up in the mid-1970s during the Genesis prog years but never saw them in their original line-up with Peter Gabriel, so this should be an interesting exercise in nostalgia.  Watch this space.

In fact, the anticipation prompted me to dig out my Genesis Archive 1967-1975 Box Set and listen to the live version of the Lamb recorded at the Shrine Auditorium, LA on their ’75 tour of the USA.  I say ‘Live’ but many of the vocal and some guitar parts were re-recorded to replace indistinct or error-strewn originals.  Egos eh?  As a double studio LP, I always felt that ‘The Lamb…’ was a bit front loaded, with all the good stuff on the first 2 sides and the remainder waning towards side 4 where it ends on the less-than-impressive ‘It’.  Which got me thinking about other studio double LPs – those much maligned products of the vinyl age.

Elton John’s ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’ suffers from the same malaise whereby each of the first three sides has an ambience and continuity all their own but the fourth is a bit of a dumping ground for a rag-bag of left-overs.  And don’t get me started on Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’ which is great for three sides then after ‘Run Like Hell’ descends into pseudo-operatic boredom on side 4.  Some doubles are a little short of material, full stop.  Joni Mitchell’s ‘Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter’ is barely 16 minutes a side and those Dutch instrumentalists’ magnum opus, ‘Focus 3’ runs out of steam on side 4 with just the drum solo and reprise continuing from the previous track on side 3 and an old unrelated song (left off the CD reissue!) bolted on to make up the running time to about 14 minutes.  Hmm.

Even The Beatles weren’t immune from the falling off side 4 syndrome as the inclusion of ‘Revolution 9’ on side 4 of the White Album shows.  In fact, barring ‘best of’s’, I can’t think of a single double album where side 4 is the best.  It may be a deliberate ploy by the record companies, knowing that no-one ever gets as far as side 4 so why put all your best stuff there?  It begs the question: is the natural length of an extended musical work is nearer to three sides than four?  Since the advent of the CD this assertion has legs, as many albums issued since the mid-80s have a running time of 50-55 minutes, approximately equivalent to three sides of vinyl.  Q.E.D.

And the Band Played On

As the owner of this blog and bearing in mind its title, it would be seriously remiss of me if I didn’t say a few words on the recently announced retirement of those two cockney sparrows, Chas and Dave, who once regaled us with their cheeky charm but frankly what is there to say?


Instead, I mourn the passing of the singing group that were once the Sugababes. It seems that the last remaining founder member, Keisha Buchanan, has now fled the coop and whether she was pushed or left willingly is not really the issue. What is important now is whether the remaining ‘Babes plus any newcomer really have the right to call themselves the Sugababes with all the global goodwill that goes with that name?

This is a matter that I have touched on before and as yet is still largely unresolved. My contention is this: should any band have the right to use their original name once all founder members have left?

In a recent issue of ‘Record Collector’ there is a page of gig adverts which includes the following; Focus (featuring Thijs van Leer), Martin Turner’s Wishbone Ash and The Grounghogs with Tony McPhee. All these are really the thin edge of the wedge as none of them are the original bands but one member plus supporting players. Focus was never Thijs van Leer on his own and without Messrs Akkerman, Ruiter and Van der Linden the Focus name seems a little sullied. I’m not sure who’d want to see Wishbone Ash without Andy Powell (and Upton and Ted Turner come to that) but the name is still being used for commercial gain. It would be interesting to know what a conglomeration of Powell, Upton and T Turner would call themselves?

The case of the Groundhogs is perhaps more acceptable as Tony McPhee was undoubtedly the main man, but I’m sure long time fans of the band would still feel a little short changed without the remaining members.

My feeling is that all bands that do not have a single founding member should be forced by the musicians union to change their name. After all, from a punter’s point of view there is a little matter of the Trades Descriptions Act and the misrepresentation of goods. I dare say that Martin Turner would claim he has done just that by playing under the mantle of ‘Martin Turner’s Wishbone Ash’ but I hear the sound of hairs being split. What we need is a decent judicial decision on this point then we can look forward to years of acrimony (see Pink Floyd).

Hocus Pocus

One question I find that I am being asked more and more these days is: ‘Which was your favourite live gig?’ Actually I find this very difficult to answer as my memory of numerous gigs stretching back to 1972 is getting dimmer by the minute (how I wish I’d kept my list of gigs attended to help jog a few reminiscences) and I’m pretty sure there were more than a few great concerts – if only I could remember them all properly in order to give a meaningful answer.

However, the one question I can answer with any certainty is: ‘Which was your most disappointing gig?’ The award for this one goes to Dutch band, Focus and it went like this. I had been a Focus fan since the days of ‘Moving Waves’ when ‘Hocus Pocus’ had burst, yodelling, on to the singles market and had followed them right through the sprawling ‘Focus 3’ and the pseudo-classical ‘Hamburger Concerto’ albums. By this time I had become a lunatic fan of Pierre, Thijs, Bert and in particular, Jan Akkerman and his blisteringly fluid guitar style, so when the 1976 UK tour was announced I, an impoverished student at the time, was first in line to buy tickets for their Reading University Student Union gig.

The weeks leading up to the gig were a frenzy of playing my old Focus vinyl and counting down the days so by the evening in question I was suitably hyped up to enjoy the event to the fullest. The walk across campus to the Union brimmed with anticipation but then disaster! On reaching the entrance, a scrappy piece of paper fluttering from the door met my eyes. It read, ‘Jan Akkerman has left the band. Ticket refunds will be given if required.’ Aaarrgghh!! Who on earth leaves a band on the eve of a sell-out UK tour? Well, Jan Akkerman, obviously. He’d probably remembered that he’d left the iron on. In Holland.

This left me in a state of shock with something the size of a brick weighing in my stomach. What should I do? Get my money back (and probably spend it in the bar) or see the gig? In the end, I decided to go see the gig and it was probably the wrong decision. Jan’s last minute replacement, Philip Catherine, played his guitar parts from sheet music propped up on a chair and the entire set comprised new, unfamiliar material with a half-hearted ‘Hocus Pocus’ tacked on at the very end.

It was an unmitigated let-down for which I had laid out a significant portion of my student grant. So you see, I can remember all this like it was yesterday yet can’t tell you what my favourite gig was due to lack of recall. Funny, that!