Revisiting the Greasy Truckers Party

The "Greasy Truckers Party" was a benefit show for Greasy Truckers, an English flower-power group raising money for a number of social causes. Held at The Roundhouse in London on February 13, 1972, the showbill featured the improbable trio of Hawkwind, Brinsley Schwarz and Man. Originally released as a two-album set back in the day, the original eight-track tapes were recently unearthed, cleaned up, and reissued as a proper thee-disc set featuring complete performances from each of the three headlining bands. In a couple of cases (Man, Brinsley Schwarz), the chance to hear the complete set is quite breathtaking – on the original LP, for instance, only two of Man's five distinctive performances were offered, tho' that did include the incredible "Spunk Rock."

Prog-rockers Man opened the show strong with a set that included their impressive twenty-two-minute jam "Spunk Rock." The song features some incredible interstellar fretwork from Mickey Jones and Deke Leonard, the two guitarists seemingly engaged in some earth-shaking duel as their jagged riffs and razor-sharp leads intertwine like concertina wire. Drummer Terry Williams acts as both a referee and a cheerleader here, his steady, explosive drumbeats providing a constant barrage of rhythm and noise for the two six-string gladiators to build upon. The song's ever-shifting time signatures, emotions and directions is enough to put many of today's limp-wristed so-called "virtuoso" jam bands to shame.

It would be tempting to say that the remainder of Man's set was a letdown after the high-flying antics of "Spunk Rock," but 'tain't so … the band clearly set the bar high and then attempts to demolish it with an impressive set of material, the band clearly influenced by the sounds emanating from San Francisco over the previous five years. Shimmering guitars and subdued rhythms lead into the scary, riff-driven, semi-psychedelic "Many Are Called But Few Get Up," which sounds eerily like Volunteers-era Jefferson Starship at their dark, menacing, flower-power-is-kaput best. Once again, Williams' machine-gun drumbeats provide the foundation for some really spacey and entertaining guitarwork.

"Angel Easy," the other carryover from the original "Truckers" LP, is a shorter, more traditionally-structured rocker with distant vocals and a slightly funky rhythmic undercurrent. Whether it's Leonard or Jones kicking in the notes here, the guitars set the pace for the song to rumble along like QMS on any given night at the Fillmore.

The fourteen-minute "Bananas" sounds every bit like the band had been torching some peels on its way to the show, a mild hallucinogenic cloud settling over a rollicking pub-rock rhythm. The song extends for a whopping 14-plus, tho', which lends itself to all sorts of cosmic abuse, lane changes, and slippery mountain curves. The set-closing "Romain" is pure electric-booger-rawk, with long sweeping rhythms, bent-wire guitar tones and some of the most brilliantly bombastic drumming that you'll ever hear.

Hawkwind closed the show with its unique psychedelic space-rock, punctuated by Robert Calvert’s bizarro poetry. The Hawks' set suffered from some initial sound and power problems – a bit of a drag, indeed, for a band whose entire vibe was built upon the manic manipulation of the sonic realm. Nevertheless, by the time that the band gets its set off the ground and launched towards the stratosphere with the lengthy "You Shouldn't Do That," the chemically-assisted among the audience were soaring wing-to-wing alongside 'em, if you know what I mean (and I think that you do). After all, this was '72 kiddies, and mind-altering goodies like LSD and 'shrooms, and even peyote had yet to be bulldozed in favor of the extreme highs-and-lows of coke and 'ludes (and the coming tragedy of the disco era).

Even if many in attendance had brought their aviator helmets and flight jackets with them, nothing could have prepared them for the lightspeed, white lightning, brightly-flashing magic migraine that was Hawkwind in its prime. This is Lemmy the K era 'wind, with wings of razor-sharp titanium and the most god-awful sonic roar heard this side of purgatorio. "You Shouldn't Do That" starts with the sound of full-thrust afterburners and steadily climbs to a crescendo build upon shards of crystal riffage, claustrophobic drumbeats, and switchblade synthesizers. You didn't have to be as high as a Greek god sitting in a stupor on Mount Olympus to enjoy this stuff, but it didn't hurt any, either.

Not that the old Reverend would prescribe dangerous substances to his gentle readers, but as one who was around back in '72 and … ahem … as someone with a taste for various illicit mind-benders and cerebellum-snacks, Hawkwind was definitely playing my song. "The Awakening" is like falling headfirst into a shimmering puddle of quicksand, as slug-like, squiggly guitar lines and odd bodkins synth-squawks leave a slimy, colorful trail across your skullpan. "Master Of The Universe" is a delightful proto-metal spacewalk with stunning fretwork, Lemmy's incandescently heavy basslines, and steady backbreaking rhythms clearly spawning the entire glut of "New Wave of British Heavy Metal" bands that would stumble into the future from the Roundhouse's doorstep that night.

Of course, Hawkwind was never a band to leave an audience simply awestruck when they had a real opportunity to thoroughly reprogram their collective gray matter (reference: the band's subsequent Space Ritual LP). Devoid of hope, the dark vibe of "Paranoia" is overwhelming in its desperation, but the short, sweet, shock-to-the-brain that is "Earth Calling" is pure Kafka set to something that approximates music, an alien-encounter with intense-sound-and-emotion unheard of in these parts of the galaxy. The out-of-this-world, hard rocking "Silver Machine" was as close to a hit song as Hawkwind's merry pranksters were ever going to experience (albeit in a slightly different form). Almost traditional in its rock-and-roll aspirations, the song includes some high-flying synth work among its scorching guitars and driving rhythms nonetheless.

The band's final tune here, the free-form "Brainstorm," is a cosmic-orgy of massive proportions, a sheer lysergic-fueled attempt at traversing time and space, a mock-battle where no single instrument dominates, but rather they tend to all meld together into a singular noisy conglomeration of sound and fury. When a random guitar or voice does manage to break out of the musical miasma, it's only to herd the listener back into the hive with electric cattle-prod efficiency. This is the kind of transcendent, out-of-control moment at which Hawkwind often excelled, and their attempt to rewrite the laws of physics that February night back in '72 is duly appreciated.

In the middle of the night, however, tucked between the two dynamic, prog-oriented monoliths, was Brinsley Schwarz (with a pre-cool Nick Lowe). The pub-rockers faced down a hostile crowd, winning them over with their exclusive blend of pre-No Depression twang-rock and blue-eyed soul. Whereas the previous two bands left the audience in awe of their mighty instrumental powers, the Brinsley boys pursued a vision of pure songcraft with actual melodies, choruses, and catchy hooks. "Country Girl," one of the band's signature songs, is a gently-rolling Byrdsian outtake with more keyboards and less 12-string, while "One More Day" is a playful mid-tempo country rocker that would have fit right in on any Uncle Tupelo album.

The R&B stomp-and-stammer of the vintage Otis Rush tune "Home Work" benefits from some manic string-mangling, while the Nick Lowe rocker "Nervous On The Road (But Can't Stay At Home)" offers up swaggering soulfulness, Bob Andrews' Staxian keyboard riffing, fine vocals and subtle touches of rockabilly-tinged guitar. Blessed with two considerable songwriters in Lowe and Ian Gomm, the band had a wealth of material to choose from. Gomm's "Range War" is a romping, stomping melodic twangfest that expands upon late-era-Byrds with ringing guitars, rapidfire keyboard-bashing and some truly odd lyrics – something about an Old West fracas with six-shooters and, for some strange reason worthy of Hawkwind's poetic nightmares, Marvel Comics' anti-hero the Silver Surfer.

The traditional "Midnight Train" is provided an appropriately raucous reading, with some crafty honky-tonk piano, twangy vocals, and South Nashville chicken-picking. The savvy "It's Just My Way Of Saying Thank You" offers whip-smart lyrics, strutting keyboard-led rhythms, and great live harmonies. A cover of Allen Toussaint's New Orleans soul classic "Wonder Woman" offers a lively rhythmic soundtrack, Andrews' finest Booker T-influenced pianowork, and some Steve Cropper-styled wiry fretwork.

Brinsley Schwarz's fourth album, 1972's Silver Pistol, included two songs from obscure American folk-rock songwriter Jim Ford; one of those is performed here – the blues-tinged, countryish "I'm Ahead If I Can Quit While I'm Behind." Paradoxical title aside, the song is a freak-folk ballad featuring Schwarz's finely-crafted guitarwork, mournful vocals, and weeping rhythms … a heartbreaking hillbilly lament if ever there was one. Lowe's wonderful "Surrender To The Rhythm" is a fine example of what Brinsley Schwarz did best, a seamless fusion of Nashville-by-way-of-Camden-twang with a rolling R&B backbone, '60s-era pop aspirations and an "anything goes" '70s rock mentality that lends a timeless quality to a relatively obscure but vastly underrated pub-rock genre.

Sadly, rather than closing on a high note with the delightful "Surrender To The Rhythm," the second CD in this set instead crawls out on all fours with the atrocious hippie-cretin blathering of Magic Michael. The sort of free-spirited acid-casualty that the late-60s and early-70s spit out by the handful, Magic Michael haunted London's rock underground like a drooling phantom, often gracing the stage during mid-band set changes, offering the audience the measure of his limitless lack of talent. Michael's "Music Belongs To The People" is a mindless, improvised mess including members of the audience climbing onstage to "jam" alongside the magic one's yelping vocals and cacophonic guitar strumming. This insipid, fetid chunk of stoner-era trash wouldn't cut the mustard at the height of Flower Power's drug-fueled insanity; in this day-and-age, it's more painful than a botched root canal by a drunken dentist.

If this all sounds like an odd combination of music that I've described for you all well, yeah, it is. Any one of these three bands stands on its own, and all three are distinctly different in both style and ambition. That was the magic of the early-70s, however … long before corporate radio and major label homogenization lowered expectations across the board, young music fans had a gluttonous buffet of bands to choose from, and we often ate from the trough with glee.

It was a high-flying time for music-as-culture, and art often times outweighed commerce. Although it's unlikely that a performance of the diversity and scope of the Greasy Truckers Party could take place these days, the album represents more than a mere cultural artifact – Greasy Truckers Party also captures a magical night of music. (Liberty Records)

Photos of Man, Hawkwind and Brinsley Schwarz taken from the great Greasy Truckers Party CD booklet, which includes more photos and extensive liner notes on the evening.

(Click on the CD cover to buy Greasy Truckers Party from Amazon.com)

Goodbye Nashville Hello Camden Town

Aaah...pub rock. A uniquely British construct – albeit one based on American music styles – pub rock represented a "back to the roots" aesthetic years before punk would rear its (often times) ugly head. Make no mistake, however…punk rock was heavily influenced by the pub rock scene, and the bands of the “Revolution of ‘77” benefited greatly from the trailblazing efforts of their forebears in opening up pubs and clubs to live performances (and rock music).

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though, shall we? As reflected by David Wells’ comprehensive liner notes for Goodbye Nashville Hello Camden Town, a two-CD set subtitled “a Pub Rock anthology,” the origins of the so-called movement lie with the American band Eggs Over Easy. The band had traveled to England in late-1970 to record an album with producer Chas Chandler, but the coming of the new year found them stranded in the country with no record deal. Convincing the management of the Tally Ho pub in the London neighborhood of Kent to allow them to play on normally slow Monday nights, Eggs Over Easy quickly developed a loyal following.

Among the growing legion of Eggs Over Easy fans were several musicians looking for a new direction to follow. Nick Lowe and Brinsley Schwarz attended many an Eggs Over East show at the Tally Ho, even sitting in with the band at times; other fans included ‘60s U.K. rocker Zoot Money and members of bands like Bees Make Honey and Kilburn & the High Roads. When Eggs Over Easy’s work visas expired, the band made its way back to the states, releasing a single album (Good ‘N’ Easy) in 1972 before breaking up and disappearing into the rock & roll ether.

Although Eggs Over Easy would quickly slip into obscurity, the seed that the band had planted with its Tally Ho residency took root and sprouted into dozens of bands suddenly emancipated from the constraints of expectations. Providing an attractive alternative to the prog-rock and singer/songwriter fare of the day, pub-rock represented a welcome “back to the country” vibe, bands like Brinsley Schwarz (with Schwarz and Lowe), Bees Make Honey, Chilli Willi & the Red Hot Peppers, Dr. Feelgood and others pursuing original mixes of rock, country, blues and bluegrass, performing in receptive pubs and clubs in and around London. None of the bands got rich, or even made a lot of money, but they enjoyed playing the music they wanted to play while honing their skills, and the top-of-the-card performers made daring, original music based on old standards that hits the ears hard, even 30+ years later.

From start to finish, Goodbye Nashville Hello Camden Town provides a fascinating and entertaining glimpse into the world of pub rock. Kicking off with the title track, Chilli Willi & the Red Hot Peppers sound like Gram Parsons fronting the Flying Burrito Brothers with a British accent, the song’s innocence overwhelming its tentatively twangy instrumentation. The band’s Choo Choo Ch’Boogie swings with a Western flair and jazzy undertones, kind of Cab-Calloway-meets-Bob-Wills in good old London town. Pioneers Eggs Over Easy deliver the simple, charming, countryish Runnin’ Down To Memphis, the band’s only cut on the anthology.

Fronted by Ian Dury, who would go on to become a U.K. punk icon, Kilburn & the High Roads mixed a British Dance Hall sound with Dury’s keen lyrical observations and slightly-skewed sense of humour. Kilburn’s Billy Bentley is pretty snazzy while the band’s other cut here, Rough Kids, is a horn-driven blast of fresh air with honky tonk piano and screaming guitars. Bees Make Honey could have just as easily come from Laurel Canyon circa 1971, with laid-back songs like What Have We Got To Lose showcasing delicious harmonies while Indian Bayou Saturday mixes Levon Helm and The Band with Goose Creek Symphony (?!). Perhaps the best-known pub rock band of them all, Brinsley Schwarz, is represented here by a single tasty cut, the free-flowing roots-rock Country Girl.

One of the most interesting aspects of the short-lived pub rock phenomena was its inclusive nature; it was a big tent over a small scene, and everybody was welcome. Because of the honest, sincere nature of the music, old ‘60s rockers like Zoot Money, Mick Farren, Albert Lee, Stray and McGuiness Flint found a new home within the genre. Session guitar-for-hire Lee, who was also part of the unabashedly country-honk outfit Country Fever, gets to show off his six-string skills with the transcendent Best I Can. Money’s Arkansas sounds like a throwback to the hillbilly ‘50s, a low-fi production with sparse instrumentation and wickedly somber vocals. Featuring members of Manfred Mann and John Mayall’s bands, McGuinness Flint pursued a guitar-driven rock sound with just a trace of rootsy influence on the band’s rollicking Ride On My Rainbow.

Some pub rockers would go on to find significant careers in the coming punk revolution. Aside from the aforementioned Dury and Brinsley Schwarz’s Nick Lowe, the raw, stripped-down sound of bands like Eddie & the Hot Rods (kicking out the jams here with the uber-cool garage rock vibrations of Do The Monkey Man and All I Need Is Money) or the Count Bishops (best known for their haunting Link-Wray-meets-Screamin’-Jay rave-up Train Train) finding a receptive audience for their hard-rocking tunes among the Mohawk-tressed masses.

The scene also embraced bands that didn’t subscribe to the typical pub rock band’s rustic country sound. The Fabulous Poodles, for instance, didn’t really fit in anywhere with songs like the boisterous Roll Your Own or a spot-on soulful cover of the Amazing Rhythm Aces’ Third Rate Romance offering slightly-tilted guitar, off-kilter vocals and a sound that was more rock than roots. Elevated to royal status by pub rock fans, the influential Dr. Feelgood brought an R&B influence to the genre, although the band’s lone song here, Roxette, could pass for a ‘60s-era British blooze-rocker with distorted guitar and some dirty mouth harp work.

Raucous ‘50s-styled rockabilly was a favorite route for many on the scene, the Brunning Sunflower Band crossing Jerry Lee with Duane Eddy on the track Good Golly Miss Kelly while Matchbox, which would kick around well into the ‘80s, kicks out the spirited and electric Rock’n’Roll Band here. Another ‘60s-era holdover, the Pirates, evince an anarchic blue suede sound with their rocking Gibson Martin Fender (an off-the-tracks live version, no less).

Out of the 49 total tracks on Goodbye Nashville Hello Camden Town, there are a lot of lesser-known bands included on the anthology that nevertheless made good music and deserve mentioning, such as the Cartoons, Country Fever, Mickey Jupp and the Kursaal Flyers. Late-period pub rockers like the Tyla Gang or Nine Below Zero made more of a splash amidst late-70s/early-80s audiences loosened up by the triumphs of punk rock while others, cult favorites like the Downliners Sect or Unicorn, recorded albums that have become a sort of holy grail to collectors who prefer a little well-intentioned obscurity as they dig through the crates.

There are some obvious omissions hereabouts, most notably Ducks Deluxe, who had a unique Chuck Berry-influenced boogie-rock sound and which later provided musicians to both the Tyla Gang and Graham Parker’s Rumour; the Motors, who scored several U.K. chart hits; soulful vocalist Frankie Miller, whose oeuvre would fit firmly into the pub rock milieu; and even Joe Strummer’s pre-Clash band the 101’ers. I would have dropped the third Kilburn & the High Roads song and included a second Dr. Feelgood cut, but it would be easy to have bumped the anthology up to a third disc considering the wealth of material available.

Given the relative scarcity of much of this excellent music, however, and the unfamiliarity of American rock fans with most of these bands, Goodbye Nashville Hello Camden Town does a fine job of documenting the pub rock genre. The anthology provides newcomers with a valuable roadmap to bands worth checking out and, indeed, many of the bands mentioned here have import albums readily available. If you’re looking for an antidote to the brutal reality of what passes for modern rock these days, or if you’re a roots-rock fan thirsty for something new, I’d heartily recommend checking out the pub rock scene; this anthology is as good a place as any to start... (Castle Music/Sanctuary Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Goodbye Nashville Hello Camden Town from Amazon.com)