1964 – The Sixties Beat Explosion – Rolling Stones, Animals, Pretty Things……………..

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The Beatles were a game changer. Following their phenomenal success in 1963 every label and talent scout was out scouring the country for other bands. In 1962 guitar bands were dead. It was the time of Pop ballads. In 1963 the Beatles blew that notion out of the water and the charts were full of the Merseybeat sound – Beatles, Gerry & the Pacemakers, Cilla Black, Billy J Kramer and the Dakotas, the Searchers, Mojos, Fourmost, Freddy & the Dreamers and even Herman’s Hermits.

By 1964 they started to promote their discoveries.

Back in 1964 there were only two TV channels. The music market was restricted to a very restricted diet. We had Ready Steady Go, Thank Your Lucky Stars and Juke Box Jury – usually hosted by middle age squares. Only Ready Steady Go tried to reflect the excitement of the times with the sexy Cathy McGowan hosting and a live format that was chaotic but great. This was where the new bands were highlighted.

Radio was even worse. The Beeb were so dated and staid. They hardly played anything worth hearing. It was all patronising and safe. Tuning in to Radio Luxembourg, which faded in and out, we managed to hear some decent stuff.

But 1964/5 was a time of huge change. The country was shaken with a plethora of new bands featuring a harder R&B sound and a range of original songwriting that blew the old Tin Pan Alley songwriters away. This was the new sound; the kids music. This was the birth of the Mod era with new style, new attitude and a brash confidence.

It started with the Stones and then it seemed that every week there was a new band with a great new sound – The Who, Smallfaces, Them, Animals, Pretty Things, Downliners Sect, Yardbirds, Spencer Davies, Kinks, Hollies, Manfred Mann, Sorrows and hundreds of minor groups.

Every week seemed to produce another revelation. I thought it would go on forever. It didn’t. They established themselves and dominated the music scene for a year or two. This was the time when the great Rock Stars emerged – Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones, Ray Davies, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Pete Townsend, Roger Daltrey, Keith Moon, Phil May, Dick Taylor, Steve Marriott, Eric Burdon, Alan Price, Stevie Winwood, Graham Nash, Keith Relf………….. I find it amazing to think that over fifty years later most of them are still around and going strong.

The next big change was to come in 1967 when the Underground exploded.

What an era to live through!

 

If you fancy reading some of my books on Rock Music try these:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Search-Captain-Beefheart-Opher-Goodwin/dp/1502820455

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Blues-Muse-Opher-Goodwin/dp/1518621147/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1470564382&sr=1-1&keywords=opher+goodwin

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Ophers-World-Tributes-Rock-Geniuses/dp/1508631271/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1470564382&sr=1-8&keywords=opher+goodwin

https://www.amazon.co.uk/537-Essential-Rock-Albums-first/dp/1502787407/ref=sr_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1470564382&sr=1-9&keywords=opher+goodwin

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Rock-Routes-Opher-Goodwin/dp/1514873095/ref=sr_1_21?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1470564488&sr=1-21&keywords=opher+goodwin

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Ophers-World-Tributes-Rock-Geniuses-ebook/dp/B00U0NLP4W/ref=sr_1_27?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1470564514&sr=1-27&keywords=opher+goodwin

The Downliner’s Sect – Opher’s World pays tribute to genius.

Downliner’s Sect – Opher’s World pays tribute to genius.

 

DownlinersSect_TheSect_1964

 

The Downliner’s Sect were the band that got away. They appeared like sweet mountain dew and promptly evaporated into the magic air without achieving the fulfilment of their promise.

They were my band. I specialised in delighting in the discovery of brilliant obscure bands and songs that never garnished the charts. It bemused my contemporaries. The Sect were one of my discoveries. I found them nestling incongruously in the small record rack in our local electrical goods store in Walton on Thames. It was a store not renowned for stocking anything other than standard chart material. I used to peruse the wares every now and again. The cover called to me. I was instantly enchanted. I took a chance. For some reason my expectations were high. I got a thrill from simply holding and looking at the album. I could see from the track list that it was the type of stuff that would appeal. I was not disappointed.

It was the Summer of 1964. The Stones were leading the mad charge of British R&B. The Stones were wonderfully uncouth and surly. Their music was seminal. The Yardbirds were doing the same sort of things but seemingly on large doses of Amphetamine. The Pretty Things scowled and were even more extreme and then there was Them, the Animals and a host more. They were all mining the same rich vein of Chicago Blues.

It wasn’t until I got home that I could put the truth of my instincts to the test. From the moment I slipped it on my turntable and the needle went down I knew it was the business. This was the ultimate R&B band. They were punchy, earthy, pacey, wild and distinctive. I had discovered the lodestone of British R&B. No other band was was as original/.

That should have been it. They had the look, sound and music to go with it. 1964 should have been their year. It never happened.

They must have had the wrong management. The singles did not match the album. They deviated from the raw R&B. The breakthrough never materialised.

It did not bother me. It meant I had them to myself. Their album took pride of place in my collection alongside the Kinks, Who and Chuck Berry albums. I was confident that the second album would rectify the problem.

I got an EP instead. It was a bemusing EP entitled The Sect Sing Sick Songs. Good but a change in style.

Then the second album arrived – The Country Sect – it was a mish-mash of Country and Folk. Where was the raw R&B? They’d left their R&B fans high and dry.

This was baffling. What were they doing? They appeared to be jumping on every trend going. It gave their credibility a kicking. Not only that but they were falling short.

What we wanted was another dose of that driving R&B they were so brilliant at – that searing guitar, wailing harp, thumping bass and drum pounding to the manic vocals – the self-penned quirky songs. This was just confusing.

The singles were humorous originals and the EP and albums were all different.What did they believe in? Were they serious about anything?

The next album confirmed it. It was an attempt at Rock and Pop. That sealed their fate.

The Downliner’s Sect were never going to be recognised as a great R&B unit as they might have been. They’d missed the boat – or rather scuttled it!

Still we had that one glorious album. It was enough to establish their credibility as an outstanding band.

It just should have been so much more!

Anecdote – My Arm Around a Rolling Stone

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My Arm Around a Rolling Stone

I used to spend my Saturday afternoons with my arm around a Rolling Stone. Yes it is true. Then later we would strip naked and indulge in a hot bath before imbibing copious amounts of beer.

This was my early life as a hooker.

I used to play rugby. I was good at it. I not only played for my school first team for three years but I was picked to play for Esher Schoolboys. We went on tour and played Saracens, Wasps, Rosslyn Park, Richmond and London Irish. They were tough competitive matches. I played against the England Schoolboy’s hooker.

But for fun, when I was seventeen, I played for a local club called The University Vandals. The emphasis was more on enjoyment rather than winning. We were the rebel club that had broken away from the posh oiks. The games were hard and competitive but there was not the slickness or win-at-all-costs attitude that had pissed me off with Esher. The after match beer was as important as the match.

I was ideal as a hooker. I was small, nippy and quick. I could strike quickly and win that ball. I wasn’t afraid.

To give me the base to work from I needed two sturdy, burly props. They had to be big, solid and build like brick shit-houses. I was lucky. I had two. Ian and Bill. They were as tough as they come and their job was to give me the platform to strike for that ball. They took it seriously. They were twice my size and they looked after me.

Ian had another life. He was an exceptional pianist.

Where his craggy looks and large squat frame did not look the image for Pop Stardom they were ideal as a rugby union prop forward.

Ian Stewart was the pianist with the Rolling Stones. Andrew Loog Oldham had taken one look at him and decided that, with his craggy jaw and short hair, there was no way the teenage girls were going to want to rip his clothes off. He might be a brilliant pianist but he did not suit the image. He was dropped. Except he wasn’t. He did not appear in the credits. He was not officially part of the band, he was not mentioned or photographed with the long-hair, surly crew. The albums were devoid of his image or name. Yet Ian played on those albums. He even accompanied the band, acting as a driver and roadie and playing piano invisibly from the wings.

Perhaps that was just the way he liked it? He was anonymous. He was able to play the music he loved without all the restrictions of fame. He would never have been able to play rugby on Saturday afternoon if he was ‘one of the boys’.

I drifted off to college and left my rugby in my past.

I no longer spent my Saturday afternoons being in a tight clinch with a Rolling Stone.

It wasn’t until a good twenty years later that I noticed that Ian had formed his own band. He was touring and playing the R&B music that he loved. The band were called Rocket 88. They played in Hull and I was going to see them. Not only were they playing that great R&B music I loved but I had hopes of seeing Stu and having a natter about the days of the vandals.

Something came up and I missed it. But that was OK. I’d catch him next time.

Except that sometimes there is no next time. Stu died prematurely of a heart attack. I never got to have that talk and share another beer.

Stu was a great cheerful man with a warm heart. I have fond memories. It is a shame I did not get to see him again.

One lesson to be learnt is that we should always seize our opportunities while we can. We might not get them again.

Anecdote – Hans and the Rolling Stones

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Hans and the Rolling Stones

Hans was a huge German youth who adored the Rolling Stones. He’d never heard them before but took an instant liking to them and became besotted after just one listening.

The Hostel had a Dansette record player and I put on my Stones album. Immediately Hans came over with a look of incredulity. He was smitten. I had to play it through again and again.

Hans was massive – like a lumberjack on steroids. For a snack he would buy one of the large black loaves, slice it open with a huge sheaf-knife, slice up sausage and cheese in big wedges and eat it as a sandwich. It was enormous.

There were two very shy, timid and serious Austria girls staying in the Hostel. They were either mute or simply terrified of everyone. I think it was the latter. They kept themselves well apart from the entire riot going on around them and did not seem at all keen on sharing wine or playing table soccer. They would huddled together round the Dansette, play Strauss and try to blot out the rest of the world. They looked like a couple of baby fauns hiding from the hunters.

Hans would stride over, thump his fist down on the table so that the stylus skipped across the LP, and say ‘ROLLING STONES!’ in his booming voice.

He was very intimidating. The two girls would scuttle about collecting up their LPs and disappear. I felt sorry for them but there was no arguing with Hans.

He’d put the album on, turn the volume up and give us great big bear hugs, grinning and guffawing with pleasure.

I think we’d altered his life. We certainly had not enhanced the Austrian girls lives though.

The other girls in the place liked the Stones though. They kept us happy with their cooking and other delights. I had never tasted so many exotic dishes.

This hitch-hiking business was proving every bit as illuminating and fun as it had promised to be.

Life would never be the same.

Blues Muse – extract – Rolling Stones in Southern France

Arthur Brown 1

Here’s a little extract from later on that is hot off the press and unedited.

Nellcote – South of France

That was when Mick contacted me. They were splitting. Things were not at all good. I listened as he rambled on. He seemed very down and disturbed. They were still reeling from the fallout from Altamont. The bad press had pointed the finger at the Stones, accusing them of decadence, arrogance and stupidity; as if they were to blame for Meredith’s death and the end of the sixties counterculture dream. It hurt. Marianne Faithful had nearly died from an overdose and, though they were estranged, it had affected Mick a lot. Then there was the constant harrying by the establishment in Britain and the obnoxious sniping British press. It looked like they were targets. The Redlands bust was still at the front of his mind. He thought it was brewing again. They were out to nail the Stones. It was a matter of time. On top of that they had managed to break away from Allen Klein and all his empire of devious deals but it had cost them and there were still ongoing disputes about the rights to their music. It was going to rumble on. The upshot was that they had no money, they were sick of the hassle; they thought everyone was against them so it was the Stones against the world and – FUCK YOU. They were going.

Keith had a big old mansion that he’d rented in Nellcote, outside Ville Franche in the South of France. They were going to be tax exiles for a year or two. It was going to solve all the financial problems. They’d be free of tax and they were going to record an album there. It was a huge mansion – idyllic and ideal for this project

Did I want to come along and help set it up?

I didn’t need asking twice.

I arrived at the Villa Nellcote and stood in wonder of it – a big rambling place sat like a palace, all windows, patios, trailing plants and beauty. It looked like the ideal place to me.

Outside the mobile recording studio was already parked up.

Inside it was like I’d walked in on a party. Music was blaring out at full volume, scantily clad girls, wandered around, there was cocaine in a bowl on the table, joints doing the rounds and a big bottle of brandy. Keith was sitting on the balcony with an acoustic, guitar and cigarette in his mouth playing to himself and totally focussed. Though how he could hear anything over the noise was beyond me. Charlie had a big tumbler in his hand and seemed content to be knocking it back. Anita Pallenberg was sitting in an armchair looking totally spaced out.

Nobody seemed to pay the slightest attention to me. It was open house. People walked in and out. Anything went.

I found Mick with Jimmy Miller down in the basement. It was hot, dank and claustrophobic down there but that was where they had decided to set up and record. It was cavernous but divided into lots of sparse, dingy rooms, some with swastikas daubed on them from when the Nazis had occupied it in the war.

Mick Jagger was trying to supervise the organisation for integrating it all. Bill was morosely setting up his bass in one of the rooms. There was a drum kit in another and wires, microphones and guitars all over the place. The coordination looked to be a nightmare. I could see why he’d wanted me on board.

I set to work helping organise and set up.

Downstairs in that basement was like a different world. It was overpowering, stark, sweaty and basic. Upstairs it was light airy and one continuous party that went on without pause month after month.

It all centred round Keith. Much as Mick tried to instil some organisation it was Keith whose free and easy approach set the tone. He was impervious to Mick’s cajoling. He and Anita would spend days in a heroin haze. Then he got some songs together, absorbed himself in producing a riff or two and we were away. Charlie Watts put the bottle aside, Bill Wyman, who seemed to spend a lot of the time bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t get his Bird’s custard, Branston pickle or piccalilli, and that his PG Tips did not produce drinkable tea because of the bloody French milk, took up his bass, Mick Taylor drifted in from wherever he’d secreted himself, and they were away.

The continuity wasn’t helped by what was going on all around. It may have been Rock ‘n’ Roll heaven but it wasn’t exactly conducive to recording an album. After a few weeks Mick decided to marry Bianca in nearby St Tropez and bring the entourage back for a honeymoon in the mansion, Gram Parsons turned up with Gretchen and hangers on and immediately resumed as heroin buddies with Keith. I could see Mick boiling with frustration and the tensions mounting.

Dubious Mafiosi from Marseille would wander in with their attendant heavies with various deliveries of heroin, cocaine and hash to keep the supplies topped up. Various musicians, friends and free-loaders would wander through. The party rumbled on. At one point seven guitars walked out – probably as a result of an unpaid drug bill to the Marseille underworld.

In the midst of this chaos the recording proceeded in fits and starts. It was free and easy, ragged and raw, lowdown and dirty. Somehow it was bearing fruit and sounding brilliant. I’d not heart them play so raunchy in a while. Mick Taylor certainly added some creative rawness and brought the best out of the others. His excellence made them respond.

It had to come to an end and it did. There was only so much that the authorities could turn a blind eye to. Ville Franche resonated to the roar of their non-stop Rock, night and day.

Eventually the bohemian dream was brought crashing to an abrupt end and they were busted.

Rock Music Genres – The British Blues Beat Groups of the early 60s – The Rolling Stones, Yardbirds, Them, Pretty Things, Downliners Sect and Animals.

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The British Beat Group Blues boom – 1964

Hard on the heels of Merseybeat came the first British Blues boom in the form of the sixties beat groups. They were led by the Rolling Stones but closely followed by the Animals, Pretty Things, Yardbirds, Downliners Sect, Manfred Mann, Bo St Runners, Kinks and Them.

The real pioneers of this Blues boom were Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated, Graham Bond and Zoot Money. But, while being seminal, they did not receive the commercial success of their compatriots.

The blues set, of which I was one, were a little snooty when it came to the blues. We saw it as superior to the Pop and Rock of the day. It seemed raw, earthy and authentic, not produced as a product by the record companies. This was genuine music from the heart, or at least the genitals. It spoke of real life and not soppy love, and teenage crap. You could wander about looking incredible serious and intellectual clutching your Sleepy John Estes and Elmore James albums. It was all very cliquey. And this was precisely how many of these bands came together. They were passionate aficionados. To us blues wasn’t just a music form; it was a crusade. We loved it and we loved those old black guys from the depths of Mississippi, Texas and Louisiana. It was an exclusive club.

In the Art Colleges all over the country various passionate blues musicians got together to swap their precious collections of coveted albums, learn licks, exchange tales and learn how to imitate their idols. They didn’t do it quite the same. They speeded it up a bit, added a bit of a rave up, but in general were remarkably true to the music of their heroes. They might have wanted to make the big time but it was more important to be true to the music, do it justice and win the respect of your fellow musicians. In the process it created a great club scene and a lot of followers. The blues was cool.

From the Deep South of the Thames Delta we had the Rolling Stones and Yardbirds fighting it out for supremacy in Richmond and the Kinks and Pretty Things battling with the Downliners Sect. From the swamps and levees of Newcastle we had the Animals and from the plantations of Ireland we had Them. Almost overnight the blues was the biggest thing going and the kids were all dancing to the music of black southern America.

The catalogues of Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Jimmy Reed, Robert Johnson, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry and John Lee Hooker were plundered.

The Stones nearly hit with their first single – a cover of Chuck Berry’s ‘Come On’ and then had theit first top ten hit with a song given to them by the Beatles. After that it was all systems go. They actually got to number one with an extremely authentic version of Howlin’ Wolf’s ‘Little Red Rooster’. Their first two albums were stuffed with blues covers. Likewise the Kinks first album was full of Swamp Blues. Them hit the charts with ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’. There were covers of ‘Dimples’, ‘Got My Mojo Working’, ‘I’m a Lover not a Fighter’, ‘Got Love if You Want It’, ‘Good Morning Little Schoolgirl’, ‘Hoochie Coochie Man’, ‘I Just Want to Make Love to You’, ‘I Ain’t Got You’, ‘Cadillac’, ‘Honest I Do’, ‘I’m a Man’, ‘I’m Mad Again’, ‘I Wish You Would’, ‘Smokestack Lightnin’’, Mona (I Need You Baby)’, ‘Too Much Monkey Business’, ‘Around and Round’, ‘Bo Diddley’, ‘You Can’t Judge a Book’, ‘You Can’t Catch Me’, ‘Boom Boom’, and a dozen more. The blues was selling to white kids. They were in the playground discussing blues harp, slide guitar and square guitars. The exclusive club had opened right up.

This in turn paved the way for the blues guys to come back over from America. Middle-aged blues guys like Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Sonny Boy Williamson and John Lee Hooker received rapturous receptions from young white kids while mini-skirted white girls danced to their rhythm. They must have been amaqzed. It was a million miles away from the sweaty Chicago clubs.

The Press had a field day. They pitted the long-haired, scruffy blues bands against the smart suited Mersey bands. There were the lovable mop-tops and the obscene and dangerous Stones who you wouldn’t want your daughter going within a hundred miles of. It was great fun and of course the Stones manager – Andrew Loog Oldham – lapped it up and fed it for all it was worth.

What it did to the music was to bring a harder edge to the sound. It was not so Poppy and over-produced. There was a rough, raw edge to it. This was not commercial pop; this was unrefined blues – and it rocked! The excitement and energy was right there in your face!

The first band I ever saw live were the British Birds with Ron Wood on guitar. The second band I caught was Them when ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’ was riding high in the charts. I was in my element.

Of course it couldn’t last. The blues bands were quickly joined by the Mod bands and soon everyone was writing their own material. It all became more ‘original’ sounding and the blues became only one component.

You can see it with the Stones – the first two albums were heavily Blues and then the music changed. Likewise with the Downliners Sect – one superb blues album and then into country. The Kinks – one Swamp Blues album and then their own distinctive sound. The blues phase moved on and burnt itself out. After 1964 the British Blues Beat Bands changed their sound.

The irony was that, on the back of the Beatles and Merseybeat, the British Beat groups exported blues back to America. The Rolling Stones, Animals and Yardbirds got the American white kids dancing to black American blues. The real thing might have been playing on their doorsteps and they had never heard it. They went for the sound of the British Beat groups with a vengeance. The blues invaded America.

Rolling Stones – Gimme Shelter – a song about the violence and unpredictability of life.

There is nothing predictable. Violence is all around us. One minute you’re safe and the next minute you’re caught up in the midst of it.

Yesterday a group of people were on holiday in Tunisia, soaking up the sun on the beach, bathing in the sea. The next minute a crazed religious fanatic is spraying them with machine gun fire.

One minute you’re sitting in your living room and the next someone breaks in and robs, kills or rapes you.

One minute you live in a country that is at peace with the world and the next you’re thrown into the turmoil of war.

We’re a vicious species. Nowhere is safe. It’s all just a shot away.

“Gimme Shelter”

Oh, a storm is threat’ning
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Ooh, see the fire is sweepin’
Our very street today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost your way
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Rape, murder!
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
The floods is threat’ning
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I’m gonna fade away
War, children, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
I tell you love, sister, it’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away

Rolling Stones – Heartbreaker – a song of social importance.

Rolling-Stones

The Stones don’t do a great number of songs with any social or political importance but this is one.

I thought it was particularly pertinent given the current concern regarding the gunning down of black youths by white police officers. The debate is whether there is an element of racism in the actions.

This song is concerned with the violence in the cities and the terrible drug situation. Heroin, Crystal Meth, Cocaine and many other drugs have taken a terrible toll on people. When are we going to get unbiased information and a responsible drugs law.

It is obvious to me that the war on drugs is lost and was wrong from the start. Drugs are a health issue and should have been an education issue. Prohibition has put money into organised crime and made the situation worse by glamourizing it.

The gun laws in the States are fuelling crime, murder and death. Look at the statistics.

Rolling Stones – Heartbreaker Lyrics

The police in New York City
They chased a boy right through the park
In a case of mistaken identity
They put a bullet through his heart

Heartbreakers with your forty four
I wanna tear your world apart
You heart breaker with your forty four
I wanna tear your world a part

A ten year old girl on a street corner
Sticking needles in her arm
She died in the dirt of an alleyway
Her mother said she had no chance, no chance
Heartbreaker, heartbreaker
She stuck the pins right in her heart
Heartbreaker, a pain maker
Stole the love right out of you heart

Oh yeah
doo, doo doo doo doo
Oh yeah
doo doo doo, doo doo
I wanna tear that word apart

Oh yeah
doo, doo doo doo doo
Oh yeah
doo doo doo doo doo
I wanna tear that word apart

Heartbreaker, heart breaker
You stole the love right out of my heart
Heartbreaker, heartbreaker
I wanna tear your world apart

Heartbreaker, heartbreaker
Stole the love right out, stole the love right out

Doo, doo doo doo doo doo
Ah yeah, you shot the kid, he had no chance
Doo doo, doo doo do
Ah yeah, Ah yeah, you stuck pins right in her heart
Doo doo, doo doo do
You heartbreaker, I wanna tear your world apart
Doo doo, doo doo do……..

Songwriters: JAGGER, MICK / RICHARDS, KEITH

Rolling Stones – Under Cover of the Night – Lyrics about the desperate situation in Chile and Argentina under the juntas – the torture and forced prostitution.

This song was influenced by a William Burroughs novel.

It was about the brutality of the Juntas in South America. In Chile the CIA instigated a coup against Allende who they considered too socialist. The Junta were particularly callous and vicious. Tens of thousands of trade unionists, writers, Allende supporters, activists and teachers were rounded up tortured and disappeared. – the disparu.

There is also reference to the apartheid in South Africa and the enforced sex trade.

Cuddle up baby – let’s pretend it is not still happening!

Centre 42 is a torture centre. How many torture centres do you think there are today?

Rolling-Stones

Under Cover of the Night

Hear the screams of Center 42
Loud enough to bust your brains out
The opposition’s tongue is cut in two
Keep off the street ’cause you’re in danger

One hundred thousand disparus
Lost in the jails in South America

Cuddle up baby, cuddle up tight
Cuddle up baby, keep it all out of sight
Undercover, keep it all out of sight
Undercover of the night

The sex police are out there on the streets
Make sure the pass laws are not broken
The race militia has got itchy fingers
All the way from New York back to Africa

Cuddle up baby, keep it all out of sight
Cuddle up baby, keep it all out of sight
Cuddle up baby, keep it all out of sight

Undercover, undercover, undercover
Keep it all out of sight
Undercover of the night

All the young men, they’ve been rounded up
And sent to camps back in the jungle
And people whisper people double-talk

And once proud fathers act so humble
All the young girls they have got the blues
They’re heading on back to Center 42

Undercover, all out of sight
Undercover, all out of sight
Undercover, all out of sight, undercover
Keep it all out of sight, undercover of the night

Down in the bars the girls are painted blue
Done up in lace, done up in rubber
The John’s are jerky little G.I. Joe’s
On R&R from Cuba and Russia
The smell of sex, the smell of suicide
All these dream things I can’t keep inside

Undercover all out of sight
Undercover of the night

Undercover of the night
Undercover of the night

Undercover, undercover
Undercover of the night

Read more: Rolling Stones – Undercover Of The Night Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Muddy Waters – Opher’s World pays tribute to a genius.

Muddy Waters
Muddy Waters exploded out of Rolling Fork Mississippi to set Chicago on fire. He’d spent his youth living in a wooden shack on a plantation ploughing the land with an old tractor. He’d developed his Blues style from the early Bluesmen Son House and Charlie Patton. When he moved from Mississippi to Chicago he electrified to create a style that could be stark and agonised or rhythmic and shrill. Muddy was unique.
The rural acoustic Muddy had first been recorded by Alan Lomax as he toured the Deep South in the 1940s recording as many Blues-singers as he could find. Those early field recordings showed a young Muddy brimming with talent. He soon left those muddy tracks for the skyscrapers to try his luck with Chess and his electrified style was an immediate success. His band took the place by storm. He’d learnt his craft from the street performers and knew how to generate excitement. Those Chicago clubs were hot, loud and sweaty and he was competing with the likes of Howlin’ Wolf and Elmore James. He knew he had to pull out all the stops. He made sure his act was eye-catching. He was reputed to shake up a bottle of coke and shove it down his trousers, at the climax of the song he would flip the lid off and spray the crowd.
Those clubs were tough places to play. Life was cheap. There were guns, knives, drink, drugs, womanising and the gangsters that went with it all. You had to hold your own or you’d be eaten alive. Muddy always went tolled up to deal with all eventualities.
Muddy became one of the top acts at Chess vying with Howlin’ Wolf for the best Willie Dixon numbers. They had to share!
Without Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Jimmy Reed the British Beat boom of the early sixties would have been greatly impoverished.
In Chicago perversely by the early sixties the Chicago Blues scene was dying on its feet. The young Black kids were getting into the more sophisticated style of Tamla. Blues was for the old folks. It left the Blues guys like Muddy high and dry. Fortunately there was an avid European market opening up and eager to snatch up all the Blues offerings they could get their hands on. The Chicago Blues guys, lauded by the British Beat Bands who had been inspired by them, found themselves with a large following of young White kids. It must have seemed incredibly strange.
Muddy seemed to lap it up. He performed a number of successful tours and festivals where he delighted in playing to his new enthusiastic white fans who hung on his every word, move and note.
I was fortunate enough to catch him a number of times backed by James Cotton and Otis Spann. He was great but I could not help thinking that he was a little restrained. I think there had probably been a great deal more of the unrestrained sexuality in those steamy Chicago clubs. I would have loved to have been there!
Muddy was a giant!