Discovering Graham Parker

By 1979 the angry, hurried punk-rock spewed out by such "Class of '77" grads as the Sex Pistols, the Damned, and others had begun to give way to the more considered, diverse, and admittedly softer-edged "new wave" sounds that would dominate the early 1980s. Also by this point Graham Parker, as angry a young bloke as any of his punkier musical brethren, had found near universal critical acclaim with his first three studio albums – Howlin' Wind and Heat Treatment in 1976, Stick To Me in 1977 – that would be unaccompanied by any semblance of real commercial success.

Plagued by lack of promotion and label mismanagement for his albums – Parker would write the song "Mercury Poisoning" around this time about his label – and overshadowed by the commercial emergence of the similarly angry young artist Elvis Costello, Parker swung for the fences with his 1979 album, Squeezing Out Sparks.

Working for the first time with producer Jack Nitzsche after making three albums with musician Nick Lowe, Costello channeled all of his piss-n-vinegar energy, emotion, and frustrations into songs like "Discovering Japan," "Local Girls," "Passion Is No Ordinary Word," and "You Can't Be Too Strong." Squeezing Out Sparks would become Parker's best-known, and most successful album, topping 200,000 copies sold and inching itself into the Billboard magazine Top Forty.

As Parker remembers in the liner notes for Live In San Francisco 1979, management put him and his band the Rumour on tour shortly before the March 1979 release of Squeezing Out Sparks and kept them out on the road, on two continents, for almost ten months. One of the early stops along the way was a two-night gig at the Old Waldorf in San Francisco in April, the second night of which was recorded by local radio station KSAN-FM for on-air broadcast.

This is the show that would later be used by Parker's label for a promotional album titled Live Sparks that culled San Francisco performances of the ten songs from Squeezing Out Sparks, tacked on a couple of songs from a live broadcast on WXRT-FM in Chicago, and would be quickly sent out to radio stations to help provide momentum for Parker's tour and album sales. The limited-edition, promo-only vinyl quickly became a coveted collector's item, but would later become redundant in the CD age when included as a second disc on the 1996 reissue of Squeezing Out Sparks.

Live Sparks only told part of the story, however, while Live From San Francisco 1979, released by archive specialists Renaissance Records with its online partners It's About Music, recreates a longer tale. Featuring a twenty-song performance by Graham Parker & the Rumour as recorded by the radio station, Live From San Francisco 1979 provides a valuable document of the band's reckless live energy and Parker's frenetic vocal pace. Whereas the sound on Live Sparks was always suspect – thin and full of echo – it has been markedly improved here, albeit at slightly less than studio quality. While portions of this performance have circulated among fans as bootlegs for years, none to my knowledge have ever included it in its entirety.

Parker performs his Squeezing Out Sparks album almost in its entirety Live From San Francisco 1979, supplementing those performances with a healthy dose of material from his previous three studio discs. Kicking off with a crash-bang reading of "Discovering Japan" and slipping into a fast-paced version of "Local Girls," Live From San Francisco 1979 jumps into an urgent performance of "Thunder and Rain" that includes some stellar fretwork from guitarists Brinsley Schwartz and Martin Belmont, Graham's strident vocal gymnastics, bombastic drumbeats from Steven Goulding and, just beneath the surface, some great keyboards and special effects courtesy of Bob Andrews.

After ramping up the audience with three subsequent barn-burners, Parker & the Rumour deliver a swaggering look at "Don't Get Excited" that befits the song's syncopated electricity before launching into the pub-rock-flavored romp "Back To School Days." A piano-led, tongue-in-cheek boozy roll in nostalgia, the band cranks it out here like Friday night at the local watering hole and their life depends on winning over the crowd. The aforementioned "Mercury Poisoning," spit out here with all of the venomous intent of the original studio version, is one of the best songs written about the music biz. Directly targeting his former record label and its feeble attempts at promoting his music, Parker's nimble wordplay is matched by an infectious chorus and kicked out with a punkish fervor of clashing instruments and angry vocals.

The older material easily fits in between the newer songs here, the band's innate chemistry allowing it to change gears quickly from the swinging R&B rave-up "Heat Treatment" to the rockabilly-tinged "Clear Head" and the hard-rocking "Saturday Nite Is Dead." The band's cover of the Jackson 5 gem "I Want You Back" has always been one of my personal favorites, Parker's reverent vocals doing a great job at expressing the romantic longing and loss of the original song. This live version is pretty cool, a little faster-paced than some performances, but Parker's vox are still top-notch and the accompanying guitars bring just enough Steve Cropper/Stax Records flavor to mimic the Motown sound. Live From San Francisco 1979 closes with the anarchistic "New York Shuffle," the song's pub-rock vibe complimented by a little rockabilly guitar, honky-tonk-styled piano, and more than a little punkish intensity.

Live From San Francisco 1979 documents a road-weary Graham Parker & the Rumour that climb the Old Waldorf stage and kick out the jams with reckless aplomb anyway. The collection is a hell of a lot of fun, mixing Squeezing Out Sparks with the earlier material, and both Parker and the band sound absolutely energized by the loud-n-rowdy audience. More than anything, the album showcases an artist that never quite received the commercial pay-off that his passionate, intense, and entertaining music should have gotten. Luckily we have recordings like Live From San Francisco 1979 to remind us of just how damn good Graham Parker & the Rumour were back in the day. (Renaissance Records / It's About Music)

Related Content:
Graham Parker - Don't Tell Columbus CD review
Graham Parker - The Real Macaw CD review

(Click on the CD cover to buy Live In San Francisco 1979 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)

Nick Lowe Ages With Style and Class

Nick Lowe just gets no respect. His resume is every bit as impressive as anybody’s in rock music – critically-acclaimed solo artist and band member (Brinsley Schwarz, Rockpile, Little Village), in-demand session player (John Hiatt, John Lee Hooker) and successful producer (Elvis Costello, the Pretenders). It could be argued that the short-lived early-70s British pub-rock scene was built on Lowe’s back-to-the-basics musical philosophy, which subsequently influenced both punk and new wave. Yet Lowe continues to soldier on in relative obscurity (especially in the U.S.), his work enjoyed and revered by a small but loyal following of fans.

Over the almost three decades of his solo career, Lowe has delved into power pop (Pure Pop For Now People), new wave pop-rock (Labour Of Lust), roots-rock/rockabilly (The Rose of England) and R&B-flavored Americana (The Impossible Bird). With his 13th studio album At My Age, Lowe skews closer to his more recent work than revisiting past glories, masterfully blending lush ‘60s-era pop with Nashville-styled “countrypolitan” twang and Southern soul (think Muscle Shoals and the Memphis of Hi Records).

At My Age is a deceptively charismatic album. Upon the first spin or two, it seems somewhat unremarkable, failing to immediately grab your ears. With repeated listens, however, the album reluctantly uncovers its secrets and reveals its charms. The best way to describe the songs on At My Age is “subtle,” the soundtrack, words and vocals so damn undeniably cool that there is no need for them to SHOUT to be heard.

Unlike the vast majority of stomach-churning, migraine-inducing pop-and-rock-music today – which is tragically down-mixed, compressed, normalized and over-amped to grab the fleeting attention of a generation of iPod slingers and mp3 hoarders – At My Age has a distinctive laid-back vibe. The production by Lowe and Neil Brockbank offers sharply-defined highs and lows and a muted, understated elegance that is sorely lacking from much of this modern era’s recordings.

Where Lowe has always shined the brightest, however, is with his songwriting, and At My Age proves to be no exception. There’s nothing earth-shaking here, no revelatory moments, just finely-crafted and craftsmanlike compositions that run the gamut of style and substance. The album-opening A Better Man reminds me of a vintage Faron Young side, with a small country shuffle behind quiet, albeit forceful baritone vocals singing of the redemptive nature of love. The upbeat, horn-driven sound of Not Too Long Ago belies the tragic lost love of the song’s lyrics, the delightful vocal harmonies and James Burton-styled guitar masking the tears of a clown.

The lovely and hopelessly wry Hope For Us All sings with an Al Green heart full of soul while People Change, a tale of love slipping through one’s fingers, offers up a timeless and true pop soundtrack (yes, that’s Chrissie Hyde’s sultry wail in the background). Lowe’s rockabilly-flavored reading of the Charlie Feathers cut The Man In Love is reminiscent of both his early solo work and the twang-drenched pub-rock of Brinsley Schwarz. Love’s Got A Lot To Answer For is an insightful song of unmatched dignity with sparse instrumentation and bittersweet vocals.

The band that Lowe has assembled for At My Age is both restrained and magnificent, supporting each song with just enough foundation for Lowe to build his vocals upon. The musical flourishes are few but timely, never distracting from the lyrics and melody. It’s an odd way to perform these days, for sure, where musicians are expected to dispense with the subtlety and finesse in favor of bludgeoning the listener, but this crew treats Lowe’s performances gently and gentlemanly. Altogether, At My Age is an unexpected treat, a brilliant collection of cross-genre songs that draw upon decades of musical history to make a simple, yet magnificent statement. (Yep Roc Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy At My Age from Amazon.com)

Graham Parker's The Real Macaw

In the early-80s, Graham Parker was clearly a man in search of a voice. Unfairly branded with the “rock’s angry young man” albatross at the beginning of his career, a lot of the furor over Parker’s amazing first two albums – 1976’s Howlin’ Wind and Heat Treatment – slipped away when his label failed to capitalize on the media buzz; subsequently a slightly less angry (and therefore more palatable) musical alternative in the form of Elvis Costello came along to steal Graham’s thunder.

Parker reached, perhaps, the commercial and critical peak of his career with 1979’s Squeezing Out Sparks, which rose to number 40 on the Billboard album charts. He followed that album’s success with 1980’s The Up Escalator, a solid effort but one that failed to meet the expectations created by its predecessor. Parker tried to shake things up by splitting with his long-time backing band the Rumour for 1982’s Another Grey Area, recording instead with a group of session musicians. The album’s overly-slick and tiring production (courtesy of Jack Douglas) failed to hit a comfortable stride, however, further reinforcing Parker’s gradual slide down the charts.

For 1983’s The Real Macaw, Parker brought in a couple of familiar faces – former pub-rock mate Brinsley Schwarz on guitar and Squeeze’s Gilson Lavis on drums – to help augment the studio band’s sound. It was a smart move, as Schwarz’s easy-going but deceptively complex fretwork proved a perfect match for Parker’s increasingly sunny lyrics, while Lavis’s subtle drum fills and steady rhythms supported Parker’s upbeat vocals. Parker had gotten married previous to the recording of The Real Macaw and obviously had romance and relationships in mind while crafting the album’s fine selection of songs. Coupled with sympathetic production by David Kershenbaum (Joe Jackson, Tracy Chapman), these songs really have a chance to take flight.

Beneath his perpetually angry façade, The Real Macaw proved Parker to be a real pussycat, a hopeless romantic helpless in the face of love. His budding relationship proved to be an invaluable muse, resulting in several strong songwriting efforts. The syncopated, energetic Sounds Like Chains features one of Schwarz’s most impressive performances, the guitarist delivering fluid leads and dynamic riffs behind Parker’s gruff vocals. Last Couple On The Dance Floor offers slightly rockabilly-tinged fretwork resting comfortably alongside the typical driving ‘70s-era Parker arrangement, the song’s celebratory lyrics reveling in the glow of new love behind a rockin’ R&B sound.

The album’s minor hit single, Life Gets Better, is, in my mind, one of Parker’s best songs from across his lengthy and impressive career as a wordsmith. The song’s arrangement is firmly new wavish as only the early-80s could muster, but the underlying framework is pure ‘60s soul, from Parker’s up-tempo vocal phrasing to the horns punching through the mix, with the singer unabashedly exploring the benefits of a romantic relationship with a Motown zeal. Miracle A Minute follows a similar tact, with an infectious ‘60s pop vibe punctuated by Mel Collins’ blazing sax.

The American Beat reissue of The Real Macaw features the live version of Parker’s take on the Jackson 5 classic I Want You Back. My old buddy Kent O had slapped this priceless gem on a mixtape for me 25 years ago, and I get the same feeling listening to it today that I did then…Parker’s vocal performance is solid, Grade ‘A’ soul, a magnificent adult perspective provided Michael Jackson’s tale of adolescent romance. The song is absolutely at home here when taken in context with the rest of material on The Real Macaw, a great addition to one of the more overlooked and underrated albums in the Graham Parker canon. (American Beat Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy The Real Macaw from Amazon.com)

Graham Parker's Enduring Genius

Graham Parker has been kicking around for better than three decades now, and while some critics and all but his most faithful fans gave up on him back in the mid-80s, the truth is that ol’ GP has cranked out some damn good music during the interim. Never really obsessed with following trends, Parker has managed to mature and evolve as an artist without discarding the wit, humor and energy that made his work so essential in the first place. It’s telling that Don’t Tell Columbus, his third album for indie Bloodshot Records, finds the artist advancing further into singer/songwriter territory with a terrific collection of material.

It’s the songs that take center stage on Don’t Tell Columbus, and there’s not a daft move in these grooves. “I Discovered America,” from which the album’s title is based (get it?!), is a rollicking road trip of vivid memories and shared truths, Parker finding creative and spiritual renewal in his adopted homeland. “England’s Latest Clown” is a nifty little tale of vanity delivered with no little vitriol, Parker allegedly slamming the excesses of rocker Peter Doherty; but the shoe would fit just as well on many an out-of-control celebrity, both in the U.K. and stateside. “Ambiguous” is a jaunty little tale of non-descript madness, Parker’s tongue firmly planted in cheek as he attempts to take the middle ground with his life ‘cause it don’t really matter which way you swing these days, and “the meek inherit the earth from their friends the scum.”

Parker’s long-standing reputation as one of rock’s angry young men hasn’t mellowed much with age, and as a songwriter he can still bite like a rattlesnake. Vexed by President Bush’s incompetence where it comes to the rebuilding of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, Parker uses this as a blueprint to discuss the administration’s stupidity on a number of fronts. Letting loose with the shotgun blast of “Stick To The Plan,” Parker sings “don’t pay no attention to what the experts say, too much intelligence gets in the way,” revealing the hypocrisy and arrogance of the Bush crew not only on New Orleans, but also in their approach to the environment, education (or lack thereof) and their absolute faith in religion in the face of reality.

Most of Don’t Tell Columbus is fairly laid-back and introspective, however, Parker waxing nostalgic on “Suspension Bridge” as he ponders the afterlife in comparing the deaths of the men that built the bridge with the loss of his parents. It’s a moving song, gentle in its handling with sparse instrumentation and a fine, emotional vocal performance. “Love Or Delusion” is a relatively upbeat tune, one befitting of a full rock-n-roll band treatment, with intricate lyrics, passionate vocals and an engaging arrangement while “Bullet Of Redemption” shuffles along, offering perhaps the most poetic portrayal of love’s power (good and bad) that I’ve heard in a long time.

Parker put together a skeletal band for Don’t Tell Columbus, playing most of the stringed instruments himself with drummer Mike Gent and keyboardist Ryan Barnum adding flourishes where needed. Most of the songs are mid-tempo singer-songwriter fare with definite folk influences and a bit of country vibe. Parker’s sound has always been reasonably roots-rock based, a cross between British pub-rock twang and deep South soul, and Don’t Tell Columbus doesn’t stray far from original Graham in spirit.

The songs here are all brilliantly outlined, with clever, intelligent lyrics paired with appropriately subdued instrumentation. Three decades after he blew us away with a “Howlin’ Wind,” Graham Parker continues to surprise, entertain, and make us think with his words. While many of his contemporaries have either retired or slinked off to the sheltered world of classical music, Parker is still trying to grab the tail of eternal truth and shake some sense out of the world. Bravo! (Bloodshot Records)

(Click on the CD cover to buy Don't Tell Columbus from Amazon.com)

Remembering Pub Rock With Ducks Deluxe

Back in the day, some thirty long and gruesome years ago, my high school buddy Thom King published what you’d call today an “alt-weekly” newspaper. Only we tended to publish monthly instead of weekly, and some months were longer than others, if you catch my meaning. Times were tough back then in Nashville for bohemian types, especially those with an axe to grind and a paper to publish. Ad dollars were scarce, advertisers didn’t even know what the hell an “alternative newspaper” was, and we published the rag out of a funky pre-Civil War warehouse in pre-urban-renewal downtown Nashville. Drunken derelicts, gun battles, stolen mail trucks and rabid bats were all part of our daily routine....

One of the many perks of publishing Take One Magazine, apart from the “anything can happen at any time” Dodge City vibe on Second Avenue, was the free music. Since fledgling critics such as Thom, Sam Borgerson and yours truly were cranking out a couple-dozen album reviews each issue, the labels graced us with all sorts of promo discs. There were lots of favorites that would be spun daily on the office turntable, from NRBQ to the Fabulous Poodles, but one of the best and most frequently played was Don’t Mind Rockin’ Tonite by Brit rockers Ducks Deluxe.

Sandwiched somewhere between Glam and the first generation of prog-rockers, and predating the “revolution of ‘77” and punk rock, Ducks Deluxe was lost among the ranks of those bands deigned “pub rock” by the British music press. Alongside colleagues like Ace, Dr. Feelgood and Bees Make Honey, Ducks Deluxe cranked out timeless music in the vein of Chuck Berry and the Rolling Stones. As described by Ducks’ guitarist Martin Belmont, “all these bands played music that was good for drinking and dancing, and had its r’n’b/ soul/ country/ blues/ and rock’n’roll roots highly visible.” Pub rock was better experienced live, in the club, than on album and the genre died out quickly in the wake of punk, leaving nothing but a fond memory for a lot of music lovers.

Tragically, Don’t Mind Rockin’ Tonite was released by RCA Records in 1978, three years after the band’s demise. The label had pretty much fumbled its promotion of Ducks Deluxe’s first album stateside, and only released Don’t Mind Rockin’ Tonite, a compilation of songs and B-sides from the band’s two original albums, in response to the UK notoriety of Ducks’ Sean Tyla (Tyla Gang), Nick Garvey (The Motors) and Martin Belmont (The Rumour). Thom and I played the hell out of the album at the time, though, not knowing or caring about its pedigree.

The music of Ducks Deluxe (and most of their pub rock brethren) remains criminally neglected stateside. Luckily, British revival/reissue label BGO Records (Beat Goes On) placed both of the band’s two albums on a two-disc set a couple of years back, a mighty twofer that puts Ducks Deluxe and Taxi To The Terminal Zone in the proper light.

Disc one, the band’s self-titled 1973 debut, kicks off with “Coast To Coast,” the band’s first single, a shambling trainwreck of a song, a sort of “we’re here to rock” introduction to the band that best illustrates Sean Tyla’s throaty vocals, Martin Belmont’s Duane Eddy-influenced guitar skills and the band’s roots-rock vibe. Featuring Nick Garvey’s somber baritone vocals, “Nervous Breakdown” punches the clock, rockabilly style, sounding like a cross between Eddie Cochran’s “Summertime Blues” and Jason & the Scorchers’ manic country blues. The band slows down to a simmering funky groove for “Daddy Put The Bomp,” a Sean Tyla composition that somehow captures all of the swaggering soul and swamp-rock flavor of Allen Toussaint’s New Orleans in spite of the fact that Tyla had yet to ever visit the U.S. at the time he wrote the song.

My personal fave track on Ducks Deluxe is “Please Please Please,” a Beatlesque pop masterpiece as channeled through the Bluecap ghost of Gene Vincent’s guitar. Garvey’s strangled vocals are perfect, a combination of denial and vulnerability, the fractured melody as catchy as anything you’ll ever hear. I played this tune on the radio once as a guest DJ, on New Year’s Eve 1978/79, and it blew the music programmer’s mind; he rang up the station’s engineer and wanted him to pull the plug on me. Shows the sorry fucker’s ignorance – this is an incredible tune, with Belmont’s guitar ringing crystal clear, great harmony vocals, a simple arrangement and a timeless theme of romance and betrayal.

From this point, Ducks Deluxe runs off the tracks, a musical freight-train rocking from side to side at speeds too dangerous for the band to survive with any certainty. “Fireball” is a Velvet Underground-inspired rocker with Lou Reed vocals and “Sweet Jane” riffing backed by Tim Roper’s big beats and solid rhythms. “Don’t Mind Rockin’ Tonite” is a 100mph cross-country flight through Chuck Berry country with Southern rock flavor and circular riffage as big as all of Texas. Tyla’s western fantasy’s come to life with “West Texas Trucking Board,” a big sky ballad with Gram Parsons’ zip code written all over it. Tyla’s Dylanesque vox and the band’s tasty “Big Pink” arrangement belie their UK roots; this is pure Americana roots-rock easily a decade (a generation in rock & roll) before bounders like the Long Ryders, Green On Red and the True Believers would discover Grievous Angel.

Ducks Deluxe closes with another rocker, the Bobby Womack Southern rock classic “It’s All Over Now,” delivered with Stoneish aplomb, taut guitars and joyful vocals. When the dust had cleared, the band’s debut album was met with some sort of critical acclaim but faced commercial indifference – the fate of virtually all of the “pub rock” bands of the era. Undeterred, the Ducks added full-time keyboardist Andy McMasters to the mix and ventured into the studio after gigging around Europe to record Taxi To The Terminal Zone.

Produced by Dave Edmunds, Taxi To The Terminal Zone (1975) carries on much in the same vein as its predecessor, that is an inspired mix of blues-flavored boogie, rockabilly filtered through a UK pop culture filter, and shambling three-chord Chuck Berry-styled rave-ups that would serve notice on a generation of punk rockers a few years later. The album’s lead off, “Cherry Pie,” is a tart delight, an early-Stones-styled rocker with wiry guitar and an unrelenting beat. “Rainy Night In Kilburn” is a lovely, piano-led ballad with twin keyboards and Martin Belmont’s quiet, elegant vocals. Belmont’s subtle guitar style shines through on “I’m Crying,” Nick Garvey’s soulful vocals caressing the lyrics, staggering emotion flowing around Belmont’s exceptional leads.

Written by new Duck, pianist Andy McMasters, “Love’s Melody” is an infectious pop confection with an irresistible melody, a big fat ‘60s-styled hook of a chorus and Ventures-inspired riffing by Belmont. Garvey had been a roadie for U.S. rockers the Flaming Groovies a few years previous, and the Ducks give that band’s “Teenage Head” a proper work-out, with swirling, sparkling guitars, tough rhythms and muted, scary-as-hell vocals. “Paris 9” is a rollicking raver that evokes Mott The Hoople, with McMasters’ Jerry-Lee-Lewis-on-the-highway-to-hell keyboard riffing, strong harmonies and a big beat. Sadly, Taxi To The Terminal Zone – named after a line in a Chuck Berry song – went nowhere, and it was left up to the Clash and the Sex Pistols a couple of years later to turn British rock on its pointy little head. Ducks Deluxe broke up shortly after the album’s release, the members going on to their individual destinies.

I always viewed Ducks Deluxe in much the same vein as underappreciated U.S. bands like the Flamin’ Groovies and the Dictators that never received their due. They live on in legend, however, leaving behind two uber-cool albums for those of us that don’t mind rockin’ tonite or any other night....

(Click on the CD cover to buy Ducks Deluxe/Taxi To The Terminal Zone from Amazon.com)