Roy Harper – Live at Les Cousins – 30th August 1969
It was the end of August in London. 1969 – at the height of the sixties Underground. These were the heady days of revolution. The world had changed for ever. The old world had been swept away by a wave of youthful rebellion. These were the days of new sensibilities and attitudes; the rebirth of individuality, spirituality and political awareness, coupled with a sexual revolution. The freaks were taking over and questioning everything.
It felt like we were caught up in the great tsunami of social upheaval and creative endeavour. It was sweeping all before it. We were making up new rules. I was twenty years old and living in London, the heart of what was going on. We were young, free and wanting to taste it all. There was a great feeling of optimism.
That’s how it felt.
It is a shame it proved so ephemeral.
On that summer day it was a hot in London. Allen Ginsberg had been spotted on Charring Cross Road. Bob Dylan was playing at the Isle of Wight but I was going to a much more important event – I was off to see Roy Harper play Les Cousins.
Roy had been signed to the prestigious EMI Harvest label. They were gathering up the best of the Sixties Underground – like Pink Floyd and Edgar Broughton, and giving them carte blanche to record.
At last Roy was being recognised as a major force. He was being given the best recording facilities in the world – at Abbey Road Studio – as well as a sympathetic producer. The deal had energised Roy. He had virtually unlimited studio time, the best facilities and a great production team. Not only that but he had a collection of songs that were the equal of anything he’d written before. It felt like the bits of the jig-saw puzzle were finally coming together and Roy would at last be able to do justice to his material.
Work had begun on what was to become Flat Baroque and Berserk. Roy and Pete Jenner had hit it off, became buddies and shared musical views. There was synergy in the studio.
Roy saw ‘I Hate the Whiteman’ as the centre-piece to the album. It was a song that was full of social observation and vitriol for the plastic lifestyle of western civilisation. It epitomised Roy’s attitude at that time (and up to the present). Roy had been singing it live with great gusto and passion. It had massive impact on audiences.
When it came to recording the song for the album Roy wanted it to have all the immediacy and power of a live recording. He did not want it watered down. He felt that it was an important statement. Somehow he managed to persuade the powers that be at EMI that it was worth recording live.
Roy selected Les Cousins as the venue – the place he had started out, a warm, intimate place that felt like home to him, and arranged for EMI’s portable recording machine to be set up. This gig was to be professionally recorded on the best equipment available.
I knew in advance what was going down, so it was with a great deal of excitement that I found myself descending those steep stairs into the cellar that was Les Cousins.
The club was small; a room with a little stage in the corner with small tables and chairs scattered around. It was always dimly lit and created quite an atmosphere, particularly when filled with a lot of smoke and packed with people. I secured a place to the side and at the front and waited nervously.
Roy seemed a bit uptight to me. He was eager to get this right. I think it is one of those times when the more you try to be normal and relaxed the more you’re not. Roy launched into his set and I could see he was pouring everything into it. I lived every moment, willing it to be brilliant. The passion was electric. It was so intense that he broke a string from the sheer force he was pushing through the guitar.
When it came to Whiteman I was on edge, wanting it to be perfect, wanting Roy not to fluff a note or forget a line. It sounded pretty good to me. I thought they’d got it.
I’m not sure what happened. I heard that Roy did not think that the live recording was quite good enough and merely used the spoken introduction on the album. In any case, the track used on the album was superb.
The rest of the concert (not quite in its entirety) lay on the shelf for thirty years. Darren Crisp resurrected it and persuaded Roy to put it out as a CD.
It is quite a unique performance – capturing Roy in full flood at the height of his youthful energies. It gives a rare insight into what those early gigs were like. Roy was on fire. The songs soared and the less cynical Harper laid into the establishment with real venom. Then there was the banter in between the songs – often as interesting and important as the songs themselves.
Darren asked me to write the liner notes and I was more than happy to oblige.
Live at Les Cousins is part of history and a superb relic of an era – as well as being a musical gem.
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