Rock Shrines 31 - 40

Rock Shrine No. 31 – Station Hotel – The Rolling Stones


Every musician has started out the same: the secret pleasure of a small fan club. Even The Rolling Stones started out as unknowns.

By 1962-63 six guys within the bunch of blues fans that floated around the suburbs of London had fused into The Rolling Stones and were getting a reputation as something you had to see. The place to see them was The Station Hotel, Richmond, a suburb on the very edge of London. One of those told to check them out was 19-year old wunderkind Andrew Loog Oldham. He was publicist for The Beatles but wanted more. In his autobiography Stoned he describes the fateful night:

“Finally, in the dark and sweaty room, the Rollin’ Stones, all six of them, took to the stage while the…hundred-odd couples seemed ready for what they were about to receive and went apeshit. So did the group – they didn’t seem to start, so much as carry on from a previous journey…The room was as one, the music and audience had one particular place to go, a place I’d never been to but was happily being drawn to.

“On that stage, when I took in the Stones’ front line, I saw rock ‘n’ roll in 3-D and Cinerama for the first time….I’d never seen anything like it.”

Oldham became their manager and bent them to his fantasies of the ultimate rock group. His gift for outrageous publicity turned them into the second most famous group in the world. Just check the liner notes of the first few albums to see his talent for exaggeration.

Today it’s a bar and the interior has been gutted. But the back entrance remains, where the fans lined up and young Oldham entered to meet his destiny.


Station Hotel, 1 Kew Rd, Richmond, Surrey, TW9 2NQ


Rock Shrine No. 32 – The Africa Centre – Soul II Soul


Around 1988 Soul II Soul started life as a sound system and collective under the leadership of Jazzie B. A shifting group of musicians, the key people were Nellee Hooper from Bristol, vocalist Caron Wheeler and Japanese session drummer Masa, whose efforts to build a career in London were somewhat hampered by the lack of a work visa. Their residency at the Africa Centre in Covent Garden got them noticed and signed to Virgin Records and their first release, Club Classics Vol. 1 became a global hit. The band lasted throughout the ‘90s though never repeated the initial success. Hooper went on to become an A-list producer, working with Bjork, Madonna, No Doubt and Gwen Stefani, and Garbage, among others. What really made Soul II Soul distinctive was the invention of a brand new drum loop, which was the work of Masa and for which he never got credit.

The Africa Centre, 38 King Street, London WC2E 8JT


Rock Shrine No. 33 – Albert Hall


It’s been immortalised in one of the greatest songs of the last 40 years. It’s one of the most desired playgrounds in an artist’s career. It started out as an entertainment palace for fights and circuses.

Strange as it may seem, the Albert Hall is the Victorian equivalent of Staples Centre, MSG and all the music sheds. Glistening anew after a serious renovation, it’s one of the best places in London to see music. The audience sit in an oval shape, with boxes ringing the perimeter and cheap seats climbing in a steep rake right up to the high ceiling. The stage is at one end, in front of a massive pipe organ (on which Frank Zappa once played “Louie Louie”), which can make for interesting sight angles. When I saw Cream play in 2005 I watched Eric Clapton, seated behind the PA stack, bouncing his young daughter on his knee while Ginger Baker drum solo’d.


This is where Britain’s version of “The Sixties” started in September 1965, when a one-day poetry event with Allen Ginsberg drew all the freaks out of the woodwork, resulting in that ‘eureka!’ moment when the packed Hall realised they weren’t the only ones. Everybody has played here, classical, jazz and popular. But…Cream famously retired here in 1968 and reformed in 2005. Deep Purple played with an orchestra before reworking their blueprint for ‘Machine Head’. The Stones played in 1966. The Jimi Hendrix Experience in 1968. Bryan Ferry’s done it. Bob Dylan famously played here - acoustically in 1965 and electrically in 1966, resulting in a famous bootleg actually recorded somewhere else. Paul Simon played ‘Graceland’ for a week. But the residency king is Eric Clapton, who held an annual engagement for many years in the ‘80s and ‘90s, playing variously a regular night, a blues night and an orchestral night. In the end, the Hall is more famous than the participants.

http://www.royalalberthall.com/

Royal Albert Hall, Kensington Gore, London SW7 2AP


Rock Shrine No. 34 – Bag O’Nails [Jimi Hendrix, Beatles]


In Swinging Sixties London, when you got fed up with the Ad-Lib (what with Lennon freaking out because people were smoking joints in there) and couldn’t be bothered to trawl all the way down Picadilly to the Scotch of St. James (about, oh…a mile away), you walked five minutes (or had the chauffer drive you) to the Bag O’Nails. Situated at 9 Kingly Street, it’s less than 100 feet from Regent Street, one of London’s busiest streets, yet so invisible it might as well be miles away.

It was one of The Beatles' favourite places in 1967-68. Beatles assistant Mal Evans said in his book, “Ended up smashed in Bag O'Nails with Paul and Neil. Quite a number of people attached themselves, oh that it would happen to me...freak out time baby for Mal”.

On 15 May, 1967, Paul McCartney met New York photographer Linda Eastman for the first time.

Jimi Hendrix joined the roster of celebrated performers who held the stage when he played his second British show here in late September 1966. It was a promotional bash for The Experience, financed by manager Chas Chandler selling five of his six guitars. “Britain is really groovy,” Jimi announced afterward, just a week into his first visit to the country.



Bag O’Nails, 9 Kingly Street, London W1B 5PH


Rock Shrine No. 35 – Savoy Hotel [Bob Dylan]


We’ve all seen the video of Bob Dylan standing behind the Savoy Hotel dropping cards to “Subterranean Homesick Blues”. In ‘Don’t Look Back’ you’ve seen him take apart Donovan while holding court in his suite at the Savoy. This is the Savoy.

Opened in 1889, it was built by impresario Richard D’Oyly Carte, producer of Gilbert and Sullivan, and has always enjoyed a reputation as one of the most prestigious hotels in London. Famous guests include The Beatles, U2, Led Zeppelin, Sarah Bernhardt, Enrico Caruso, Lillie Langtry, Charlie Chaplin, Ivor Novello, Frank Sinatra, Laurence Olivier, Vivien Leigh, Judy Garland, Elton John, Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, The Who, Richard Harris, Julie Andrews, Shirley Bassey, Jimi Hendrix, and Marilyn Monroe. It’s currently closed for a £100million refurbishment.

In the accompanying video of His Bobness in his hotel suite, the woman who stands up at 5 seconds is Anthea Joseph, who gave Dylan his first residencey in London. She ran the Troubadour in Earls Court and in her words, saw a pair of boots descending the stairs and when the rest of him came into view, thought, ‘Hmmmmmm, this looks interesting…’



Savoy Hotel, 91 The Strand, London, WC2R 0EU



Rock Shrine No. 36 – EMI House [The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Sex Pistols]



You’ve all seen the photo of The Beatles looking down from the balcony. It happened on the first floor (second floor for Americans) of EMI House, the buildng that used to stand here. When I worked here in the 70s we used to amuse ourselves by standing where they had. From this vantage point I watched Marc Bolan get into the front seat of his chauffered white Rolls Royce limo. He always sat in the front seat. Once I turned around and saw Freddie Mercury for the first time, thinking, “Who’s that strange lookin guy?” The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Cockney Rebel, Cliff Richard, The Sex Pistols, Roy Harper, ELO…If your favourite band was on EMI or Capitol they visited here.

The front door.


Four smiles that changed the world.


Pink Floyd play at being pop stars in front of EMI.


Maybe if he hangs out long enough someone will sign him.


When Generation X (Billy Idol) signed to Chrysalis, we celebrated by taking a photo outside EMI. (What a punkish jape!) That’s me third from the left.


The building was pulled down a few years ago; its replacement being designed to fit in with the rest of the Square. Architecture fans will want to go next door to The Wallace Collection, which features a stunning atrium designed by Rick Mathur.

EMI, 20 Manchester Square, London W1U 3PZ


Rock Shrine No. 37 – The Jam’s First London Gig


It’s the summer of 1976 and you’re an unknown trio of Mod-loving kids living about 50 miles out of London. How do you get your first gig in London? You take your cue from the manifesto Malcolm McLaren is spinning in the weekly music papers and get your own gig. So one hot Saturday morning The Jam set up on the pavement in front of a street market, ran an extension cord from the Rock On record stall, and played to a handful of people. Most of them were curious passersby; about five of us were paying attention, including The Clash’s Mick Jones. Fifteen minutes later and it was over. Today, the market is a parking garage. The band played about where the street lamp stands.

The Jam’s first London gig – Newport Place, London W1.


Rock Shrine No. 38 – UFO [Pink Floyd]


UFO was London’s first psychedelic club, the equivalent of the Electric Circus in NYC or the Fillmore in SF. It was started by music entrepreneur Joe Boyd and John Hopkins (aka "Hoppy") in an Irish dancehall called the "Blarney Club", a basement venue under the Berkeley Cinema. This wasn’t the first time the location had been an essential nightclub; from 1919-1926 it was a jazz club where races could mix to hear predominantly black music.

UFO opened on December 23, 1966. As Joe Boyd wrote in his book ‘White Bicycles’, "freaks came out of the woodwork from all over the city”.

Joe Boyd: “The club’s first few months were idyllic. Freaks descended en masse. We made money, everyone was astonished by how many like-minded souls there were in London, the groups had a prominent platform for the first time and our beautiful silk-screen posters could be seen all over the city. Something new was happening every week and even bigger things, it seemed, were just around the corner. It is hard to convey the excitement and optimism in the air then.”

Pink Floyd were effectively the house band, though evenings combined live music and light shows, avant-garde films and slide shows, dance troupes and even "spot the fuzz" competitions as attention from plainclothes police increased. Producer Chris Thomas (Procul Harum, The Pretenders, Roxy Music, John Cale, Elton John, The Sex Pistols, etc.) remembers seeing the Floyd one night playing with all the PA equipment at the sides of the room, so that while the band were in front of you, the sound was coming from the sides. Another night they played behind hanging sheets that completely obscured the stage, with the light show projected on them. Pete Townshend was a regular, studying Pink Floyd from beside of the stage.

Pink Floyd at UFO:


How they looked if you weren’t on drugs:


When Pink Floyd grew too popular, Soft Machine became the house band. Others who played included The Incredible String Band, Arthur Brown, Tomorrow, and Procol Harum, who played there when "A Whiter Shade of Pale" was No 1 in the charts. On April 28, 1967, Jimi Hendrix turned up as part of the audience and then jammed with Tomorrow, who were headlining.

How many plainclothes policemen can you spot?:


UFO was killed by success — it was too small to accommodate the increasing crowds. In June, 1967, Hoppy was imprisoned for drug offences and further police pressure caused the landlords to revoke the lease. It moved to The Roundhouse for a few months but a high rent meant Joe usually lost money. In October it ended.

The building was torn down in 1970 as part of a huge, multi-block redevelopment. Today the location is still a cinema; the basement where Pink Floyd first wowed London is a room with a screen.

Let’s give the final word to Joe: “Like most revolutionaries, the freaks of 1967 aimed high. And like many, they failed to reach their goals. The list of disappointments is long, but one only need watch a right-wing politician or pundit talk about the era to realise how much was accomplished: the very words “the Sixties” make them spit with fury, so we must have got something right!”

UFO: 31 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1T 1BX


Rock Shrine No. 39 – MPL [Paul McCartney]


Paul McCartney moved his company McCartney Promotions Ltd (MPL) into Soho Square in early 1976. The lobby is a fascinating mix of faux-Art Deco and modern art, with an excellent Robert Rauschenburg silkscreen just inside the front window. McCartney has collected modern art for years and has the largest private collection of noted Scottish artist Eduardo Paolozzi. In return, Paolozzi designed the cover of Red Rose Speedway. (McCartney also worked with pop artist Richard Hamilton to design the White Album cover and poster.)

Pass by at night and, if the curtains are open, you can see an upper floor office with one wall completely covered in gold and platinum discs. Not many people know it, but McCartney is the largest independent song publisher in the world, owning the catalogues for Buddy Holly and several of the American Songbook standards.

M P L Communications Ltd, 1 Soho Square, LONDON, W1D 3BQ


Before he moved two blocks up the road to Soho Square, Paul McCartney had offices at this building.

Paul McCartney, 12 Greek Street, London W1D 4DL














Rock Shrine No. 40 – 23 Brook Street [Jimi Hendrix]


In 1968 and 1969 Jimi Hendrix was one of the world’s biggest rock stars. But when he wasn’t jetting to rock festivals and sold out concerts, the small flat on the very top floor is the palace he called home. He moved from here a few months before his death. In London there’s a society that puts blue plaques on buildings where famous people lived or, occasionally, famous events happened. Where the devil’s music is concerned, only one person has had that honour.


In a piece of sublime serendipity, Jimi lived next door to where another musical genius lived two centuries earlier.


The house where Handel lived and died is now a museum (Handel House Museum). The rooms where Jimi lived is now a kitchen and toilet area for their volunteer staff.

Jimi Hendrix, 23 Brook Street, London W1K 4HA

Rock Shrines 21 - 30

Rock Shrine No. 21 – Eurythmics


Judging by his space-age bachelor pad, Dave Stewart is the coolest playboy in London. Dave is the musical mastermind of Eurythmics, one of the Travelling Wilburys, a studio owner, a solo musician, a man whose life is so perfect that in Japan one year he had his appendix removed because he couldn’t believe there wasn’t something wrong with his life. He lived in this glass penthouse during the ‘90s. An article on it in the Sunday Times showed a place filled with ultra-cool technology and hot ‘70s vintage furniture. Imagine an updated Austin Powers shag palace and you get the idea. This a la mode temple is on Seven Dials, right in the middle of Covent Garden. At the time he was living with Siobahn Fahey of Shakespear’s Sister and you could see them circulating the streets, usually arguing with each other. Historic note: in Victorian times Seven Dials was considered so dangerous at night that it was said you were lucky if you got to the other side alive.


Dave Stewart's Bachelor Pad: Seven Dials, Covent Garden, London WC2


Rock Shrine No. 22 – The Scotch of St. James


The first London rock star club was the Ad Lib but by 1966 it was passe and everyone was on to the next club – The Scotch of St. James. The area of St. James has a long history as a discreet playground for the louche, moneyed, and landed and The Scotch of St. James was the ultimate in discretion – in a small yard off a side street, reached only by an easily missed driveway.

Andrew Loog Oldham described it in 2 Stoned: “You'd knock at the door and be auditioned through a peep-hole. Once in you'd travel downstairs via the twisting staircase... The Beatles, the Stones, the Yardbirds, Eric Clapton, Long John Baldry, Keith Moon, the Searchers all starred in the main room on their nights off... Lennon and McCartney, Jagger and Richards and I and our ladies would sit back in a dark corner and smoke and gloat.”

Here’s a photo from 1965, starring The Merseybeats and Pattie Boyd (the future Mrs. Harrison/Mrs. Clapton aka “Layla”).


Forty years later it’s still a club.


The Scotch of St. James, 13 Masons Yard, London SW1 6BU


Rock Shrine No. 23 – Indica Gallery


One of the key addresses in psychedelic London. Indica Bookshop and Gallery was opened in 1965 by Barry Miles, Peter Asher and John Dunbar. Dunbar was a friend of The Beatles and married to Marianne Faithfull. Asher was the brother of Paul McCartney’s girlfriend Jane Asher, half of Peter and Gordon, and in the ‘70s the producer of James Taylor and producer/manager of Linda Ronstadt. Most cultural movements seem to be the result of serendipity and a few crucial people. English psychedelia – and The Beatles’ music - would be very different without Barry Miles. I knew him reasonably well in the early 70s, when he wrote for the NME. Considering the pivotal role he had in shaping global culture he was one of the quietest, unassuming people I’ve met. It came as a real surprise to learn of his background.

L-R: Peter Asher, Barry Miles, John Dunbar

The bookshop was one of the first places in London to sell beat poetry, Burroughs and other “alternative” literature. McCartney was a regular customer. It was here that John Lennon bought a copy of The Tibetan Book of the Dead, which partly inspired “Tomorrow Never Knows”. McCartney put money into the premises and helped build it. The wood needed for the shelves and counter was picked up by Dunbar and Miles in McCartney's Aston Martin. McCartney wielded a saw. Jane Asher donated the shop's first cash till, an old Victorian one she had played with as a young girl. McCartney helped to draw the flyers advertising the opening and also designed the wrapping paper. In 1966, the bookshop was separated from the gallery and moved to 102 Southampton Row. The Gallery promoted radical art ideas and radical artists (in its life it never exhibited paintings). One of those was Yoko Ono, who exhibited in late ’66.


On November 9, 1966 John Lennon stumbled out of his Rolls, into the gallery and up a ladder where a magnifying glass on a string let him read a tiny message on the ceiling: “Yes”. Yoko, in attendance, handed him a card which read, ‘Breathe’; thus did The Beatles’ second double-act meet. A few years ago Miles and Dunbar were interviewed about this famous meeting as part of a BBC documentary and were in fine debunking form. Interestingly, both had different memories but agreed that: Lennon was quite stoned, reacted positively to Ono’s artistic playfulness and conceptual ingenuity, and that Yoko knew very much who Lennon was and manouevred for conquest, despite her subsequent high-art assertions that she didn’t know who The Beatles were. (Miles claimed that she tried to get in the Rolls with John when it left.) Today, it’s still a gallery. Indeed, the yard seems to be made up almost entirely of art-related businesses. English place names can be quite literal and Masons Yard was just that – a place full of stone masons, with a large central area for the stone. Today it’s filled with the newest gallery, the White Cube, one of London’s leading art spaces.


John Dunbar on Indica

Photos of recreated Indica installations

Indica Gallery: 6 Masons Yard, London SW1 6BU


Rock Shrine No. 24 – Eric Burdon (and the Animals)


Ending our tour around Masons Yard, Dalmeny Court is where Eric Burdon had a flat in the mid-‘60s. Eric was lead singer in The Animals, a group who dealt a global Number One in 1964 with their first single, ‘House Of The Rising Sun’. They had original compositions as well (including the hilarious ‘Story Of Bo Diddley’) and starting in ’65 produced a string of fabulous hard hitting singles that, criminally, don’t get modern recognition. According to Eric’s memoir, Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, “I was right above the Indica Gallery" (see Rock Shrine 23). Which also puts him right above the Scotch Of St. James, the coolest night club in town (see Rock Shrine 22). Which made getting home a cinch. And this a bachelor pad supreme.

Dalmeny Court, 8 Duke St, Westminster, London SW1Y


Rock Shrine No. 25 – Trident Studios


You’ve heard of hiding in plain sight. Trident Studio does just that. St. Annes Court is a busy pedestrian alley in Soho connecting two of it’s main streets. I’ve walked through it for decades, right past the Trident doorway, and never noticed it. Spot the studio:


Imagine these people walking towards you on their way to the studios: carrot-top spaceman David Bowie, satin ‘n’ tat T. Rex, overproductive Beatles, innocent Queen, wild-side Lou Reed. Check these in your collection: Hunky Dory, Space Oddity, Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane, Electric Warrior, Transformer, the first two Queen albums, ‘Hey Jude’, ‘Martha, My Dear’, ‘Dear Prudence’, ‘Honey Pie’. Created here.

The view from the control room: Peter Gabriel at work.

It goes on: Elton (‘Your Song’, Tumbleweed Connection, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road), Nilsson (‘Without You’), Carly Simon (‘You’re So Vain’), Billy Preston, Mary Hopkins, James Taylor, George Harrison (All Things Must Pass), Lennon (‘Cold Turkey’), Dusty Springfield, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Free (‘All Right Now’), Frank Zappa, Mott The Hoople (‘All The Young Dudes’), Yes, Genesis (with Peter Gabriel), Peter Gabriel (without Genesis), and The Jeff Beck Group. The Rolling Stones effectively auditioned Mick Taylor here, recording mostly unreleased tracks with titles like ‘Potted Shrimp’ and ‘Leather Jacket’ as well as ‘Brown Sugar’.

Three producers made it their home: Gus Dudgeon, Tony Visconti, and Richard Perry. Why? [1] It was the first studio in Britian to have eight-track recording. [2] A 100-year old Bechstein concert grand piano with resin on the hammers, renowned for its sound. [3] Engineer Ken Scott, who cut his teeth on many of the greatest Beatles records. [4] A warm sounding room and a great sounding drum area.

The studio bill and McCartney’s notes for ‘Let It Be’

The two brothers who owned the place started modifying the desk and developed a very successful business building mixing desks. They started a video company in 1973 and developed another very successful business. The piano was restrung in the mid-70s and lost its distinct sound. In 1981 the strudio was sold.

Today’s it’s used for audio post production in TV, film and multimedia. The original control room is still pretty much as it was, though the desk faces the other way. The basement studio has been broken up into more studios and overdubbing rooms.


Every Thursday at 6pm, the public can go on a “Magical History Tour” of the studio’s past. Part of the experience is hearing a selection of the hits on big monitors. Heard back to back it’s obvious that all these records came from the same room: a fantastic drum presence, beautiful percussive piano, evocative vocal sound and warm, round strings.

Stairway to the stars

Trident Studios, 17 St. Anne’s Court, London W1F 0BQ

Rock Shrine No. 26 – RCA: The Clash


The Royal College of Art is best known as a centre of British art [Hockney, Kitaj, Conran…] but on November 5, 1976 it hosted A Night Of Treason, starring The Clash. Punk was going overground and the place was full of punks, the interested and students. The stage door policy was loose and backstage was as crowded as out front. The dressing rooms and corridors were seething with talent. Siouxsie Sioux was gathering her tribe to follow up the Punk Festival appearance. Billy Idol and Tony James were about to leave Chelsea (one time on stage) and start a band called Generation X. Adrian Thrills was starting a fanzine. Mark P was working on the next issue of Sniffin’ Glue. If Punk was an attitude then Subway Sect was as Punk as it got. They didn’t look or sound like anything else on a stage [before or since]. Their complete lack of showmanship and off-centre music really made you feel you were seeing something new. Then The Jam came on, all two-tone shoes and Shepherds Bush riffs. Somehow the sharp suits and Rickenbackers were at odds with the homemade fashions and Fenders of the Pistols and the Clash and backstage they sat apart from the other bands.
The Clash were incendiary. The sound was big and loud and they climbed all over their brace of songs like kids on a building site, crashing guitars and a rabble-rousing Joe. Then a student threw a beer glass. [Depressingly, it was always students who threw glasses and bottles.] Joe threw his arms above his head and shouted ‘Under heavy manners!’ He sought out the perpetrator, who got on stage. Joe questioned him and the guy looked sheepish. Then Sid Vicious got on stage, muttering into the mic and looking well-named. A few minutes later and they got back to the wonderful racket.

People used to say their life changed the first time they saw The Clash. This was the night when that scenario began.

Royal College of Art, Kensington Gore, London SW7 2EU


Rock Shrine No. 27 – The Vortex


The summer of ’77 – hot and heaving. The Summer of Punk. The year of The Vortex. Every Tuesday night 1500 punks would cram themselves into the basement of this club to see a double bill of the best new bands. You knew when a fresh shipment of Punk’s drug of choice was in town because if you entered straight the atmosphere was unpleasantly electric. Amphetamine sulphate was a 1!2!3!4! drug for 1!2!3!4! music. It cost a measly £15 a gram and one nostril stripping snort would keep you alert and charging for ten or twelve hours. The unholy trinity of 1977 was punk, powder and price. The punk-reggae interface started here, when Generation X played with a band from Birmingham called Steel Pulse. On stage it was all Rasta patois but in the dressing room they sounded as Brummie as Ozzy Osbourne. Ex-Pistol Glen Matlock started The Rich Kids here; Mick Jones was getting tired of no drummer in his band and injected a big dose of is-he-quitting paranoia into Camp Clash by guesting with Glen. Malcolm McLaren was putting his Sex Pistols movie together and had hired titilation director Russ Meyer. As wonderfully strange as Meyer’s movies were, in punk he was a tourist in a very strange land. My favourite image of The Vortex was watching Meyer – slacks, jacket and very big cigar – wandering disturbed and confused through the sea of punkettes in dog collars, torn fishnets and bad makeup. Thirty years later it’s a disco.

The Vortex, 201 Wardour Street, London W1F 8ZH


Rock Shrine No. 28 – Ivor Court (The Who, Rolling Stones)


Variously and together, from the autumn of 1964 to 1967: Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts lived here. The Who manager Kit Lambert both lived and had an office at no. 113 as he navigated the group from guitar-smashing debt to rock-opera riches. It was Lambert, the youngest in a line of upper-class artistics, who suggested to Pete Townshend he should write an opera. The result was ‘A Quick One’, paving the way for the much more ambitious ‘Tommy’. Rolling Stones and Immediate Records visionary Andrew Loog Oldham ran his offices at 138 and 147. Oldham is rightly famous for inventing the Stones, but he also signed The Small Faces. Oldham defined his moment of arrival as the point when he could decide which telephone calls to accept.

Ivor Court, Gloucester Place, London NW1 6BJ


Rock Shrine No. 29 – The Lyceum


One of the best venues in London for live music: good acoustics, wonderful rococo design and a roof that rolls back.

The Rolling Stones were here in 1969; when they played the Chuck Berry song “Little Queenie” a spotlight was shone on the hall’s portrait of Queen Elizabeth, possibly the first post-modern moment in rock music. In the days before Ticketmaster, the ticket line for The Who was several blocks long, nearly everyone a young man. The Clash and Queen played intimate dates here. At an all-nighter in the summer of ’76 the Sex Pistols supported The Prettythings. Madness, The Selector and The Specials kicked off Two-Tone with a riotous celebration in 1980.

But the reason we really remember it is for the momentous live recording by Bob Marley and the Wailers in 1975. The two nights he played were fabulously warm and the roof was open so all the cigarette and spliff smoke disappeared. When you looked up you could see stars in the sky. The stage was low and while it was hard to see more than the band’s heads and shoulders it meant you could get close and really be part of the experience. These things I remember: the dipping and swaying of the multi-coloured I-Threes, the nimbleness of the Barrett brothers as they drove one fabulous song after another forward off the stage, and the righteous militancy of Bob as he stepped across the stage, sang with sweet conviction and shook dem locks as the weak hearts dropped.

The Lyceum, 21 Wellington St, London, WC2E 7RQ


Rock Shrine No. 30 – 57 Wimpole St. (The Beatles)


From 1963 – 1965 Paul McCartney lived in rooms on the top floor of the family home of his girlfriend Jane Asher.

Lennon and McCartney wrote “I Want To Hold Your Hand” in the basement, “one on one, eyeball to eyeball,” as Lennon put it. During the three years he lived here it’s fair to say many other famous songs were either conceived or worked on here.

When Paul wanted to dodge fans he would duck into Browning Mews, which backs on the house.


Wimpole Street is one block from Harley Street, famous for its doctors, including the Dr. Robert immortalised in The Beatles song. Architecture fans should spend some time walking around the neighbourhood, it has some of the best residential architecture in London.

57 Wimpole St., London W1G 8YW

Wings: 'She's A Good Cook, Eamon'

Sounds, 30 October 1976

THANK YOU, AND I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL ANYONE WHO HE WAS.

The large, widely spaced, easy to read letters are to be the first words of Eammon Andrews' interview with Paul McCartney.

They march down a narrow strip of paper strapped flat to the surface of the prompting machine, disappearing into a bog roll of speech on the side. A little above them, positioned so it sits under the lens, where it's picked up and thrown onto monitors and the teleprompter, someone has written the salutary message, 'Hello Eammon, you turd'.

Eammon is interviewing Paul and Linda and the band for Thames TV's Today. He is broadcasting live.

At 4.30, Wembley is like a roadie's convention, more right-hip key rings than you've ever seen in your life. A couple of platoons work for Wings, the rest of the battalion for Showco, handling the sound and lights. Around them lounge a brace of security people. From everywhere is noise and bustle, platforms being hammered together, seats bolted to the floor, packing cases moved. There are enough packing cases to kit out half a dozen lesser bands.

Onstage, the amps are strung in a neat line, a battery of expensive guitars reclining with similar precision in front of them. The drums sit on a high riser between Paul's and Denny's amps. The keyboards complex is front right. Behind it, highest of all, is a glistening ebony Steinway. On the other side of the stage, behind Jimmy's amps, stands the brass section. The quartet are playing 'Silly Love Songs' for the benefit of the sound man. In front of them, the stage is like Piccadilly Circus at rush hour. Roadies check mikes and tape cable, TV klieg lights are erected at the front of the stage, TV cameras are trained and focussed, TV personnel move around looking busy and important.

The action abates. People wander around, bored. By the telephone booth behind the stage, one American roadie tells another how one of their compadres went out to the lobby and was asked by a Wembley security officer to remove himself, as he was lowering the tone of the place. They guffaw.

"Lower the tone of a gymnasium?!?" drawls the storyteller incredulously.

"Christ," sneers the other, "Yuh'd need two tons of cowshit to lower the tone of this place."

Suddenly there is a flurry of activity on stage. In the middle stands the star of the show. Hands in the pockets of a large navy overcoat, chewing gum, he surveys the scene. Surrounding him, like Indians around a wagon train, a five man camera crew records every nuance. Except for the eyes, his face is blank. Just the jaw, going up and down.

Joe English climbs behind his drum kit and initiates the sound check. He views the world through orange tinted specs. The bass drum is stuffed half full with carpet underlay. While he pummels away, Linda checks her keyboards for the benefit of the cameramen. The lapels of her black jacket are dotted with Wings badges. She chews gum. Then the crew homes in on Joe. This is the McCartneys’ film crew.

Jimmy McCulloch plugs in and liberates some overkill guitar. Macca is now sitting at the mixing desk halfway down the Pool, leaving the centre stage to Mike McGear, resplendent in a blue jacket with ornate french cuffs and painted wings on the lapels. McGear, with no function, just stands and watches. While Denny checks his double neck Gibson, McCartney photographer Bob Ellis snaps Linda at the Steinway. Then she descends to her ivories tower and checks the instruments.

Paul sits and watches, jaw moving incessantly. He nods his head, tries to twirl the ends of his moustache in vain, rolls a ciggie between his fingers. Occasionally he leans over to the balding, moustachioed sound man and makes a comment. They sit at a desk that wouldn't disgrace a recording studio. Next to it is a replica for the lighting. The sound issuing from the black cloth draped p.a. is just like a McCartney record.

Now it is Paul's turn. He walks to the stage, climbs up to the piano, whips off a trill, smiles, jokes. He is ON. He runs quickly through 'Lady Madonna' while Ellis and the camera crew record it for posterity. McGear is still centre stage, watching. Taking off his coat, Paul straps on a Rickenbacker. He is wearing a blue shirt buttoned at the neck, dark brown trousers and a fawn double breasted jacket – high fashion from the local charity shop. A Wings badge is pinned low on the lapel. After some brief warm up funk the band run through 'Letting Go'. Paul hams it up for the camera, holding his axe vertical, pointing to his fingering. He sings and chews simultaneously. McGear, still centre stage, is the only one to clap.

As they try a relaxed 'Band On The Run', the BBC2 news interviewer tries to think of some questions. "What do you ask someone who's been interviewed as often as he has?" he asks Ros, the publicist’s assistant. She fills him with facts: 62 concerts in 10 countries in 13 months, the re-establishment of Paul McCartney as a major force of the 70s, the Russian connection...

"The only place they haven't been is Japan," she comments.

"Oh, why is that?" asks the Beeb.

Simple, bud. The same as Mick and Keith and John and George. Cannabis conviction.

"Umm..." replies Ros. "...A legal problem. His visa wasn't right...But he did Australia," she continues brightly, successfully averting the crisis.

While they wait for Eammon, Paul sits at the Steinway and tunes an acoustic guitar.

Eammon makes his appearance. Standing between the drums and keyboards, face a make-up tan, he checks his view to the two TV cameras. Out of camera range the stage is packed with technicians and sound crew, the McCartney camera crew, the McCartney photographer, the McCartney band. Macca descends and greets Eammon. Linda is introduced and they stand next to him chewing gum. The interview is largely inaudible to anyone over five feet away. It's like watching telly with the sound down, Paulie and Eammon being jolly while Linda watches attentively. Paulie keeps calling him Eammon with over-familiarity – eee, wot, we're all chums 'ere, eh mate? He's donned his one-of-the-people mask, just another berk from the dole queue slipping into his first pint of bitter. All except the eyes, which dart everywhere, tracking and cataloguing the activity around him. Eammon asks daft questions. Paulie describes their world tour, from Amarillo to Zagreb. Eammon keeps asking daft questions. When he turns to Linda it's to ask how being in a top rock band interferes with being a housewife. Not at all opines Linda.

"She's a good cook, Eammon," confides Paulie. "You should come around for a nosh."

This is a former spokesman of his generation? A man who changed the world? And he presents his wife not as a photographer, composer or musician – an artist, say – but as a cook? And she lets him?

Eammon hands the show back to Alan Hargreaves, who has bad news about public transport. "Don't worry Alan," grins Paulie with a thumbs up to the camera.

"Ohh, the fares are going up again," brays Linda. One wonders when she last used public transport.

Round two is with two Wings fans and two bodyguards who look like they moonlight as steamrollers. Paul crouches nearby, where he can hear. As the interview finishes he rushes forward and wrestles his personal bodyguard to the ground.

"That's what's known as a karate chop," exclaims the surprised Eammon.

"No, a Za-grab. A Za-grab."

"Oh, a joke. A joke," deadpans McGear from the side of the stage.

Round three presents the band. It's still like a telly with the sound down, still largely silly, though perceptive questions do appear. After a brief run through with the other members Eammon returns to Paul. The theme is Russia; Band On The Run is the USSR's first official rock release, and gentlemen from Tass and Ruskie radio will be seeing the concert the next evening. Paul hopes for a tour next year, reminding us that the only drawback is that of course, you can't take your profits with you. Linda inserts an ignored desire to visit China.

And then it comes, the most boring, redundant question outside the Bamboo Curtain.

"Will the Beatles get together again," asks Eammon as if he'd just thought of it.

Paul gives him a once over. "The Beatles split in '69, and since then they've been doing fine." He's doing his best Muhammed Ali impersonation. "An' if that question doesn't cease, ain't no-one gonna get no peace. An' if you ask it jus' once more, I think I'll have to break your jaw."

Everyone applauds.

Hovering around the edges, the camera crew film, Bob Ellis snaps. Out in the auditorium, discreet behind his 400mm lens, Ron Gallico, papparazo to the Queen, snaps.

There's a wait for the BBC2 news team to organise. Paul sits on stage fiddling at the piano, the safest place. This interview is conducted in the dressing room. This interview is a proper interview. Except that the entire band is talking with Scottish accents.

What effect, BBC2 wonders, has a world tour had on the group?

"We're a lot tighter," replies Paul. "It's all the drink." He is holding a wine cork. For this interview he has assumed an intelligent persona, lacing the inanities and jokes with sensible answers. "And we've gotten to know each other. Of course, tonight we'll probably be terrible."

"And they'll say, 'It's the loosest group we've ever heard'," slurs Linda in her best burr.

"Yes," rejoins Paul." " 'They were tight again'."

How do you feel about being home, enquires the Beeb. Are you nervous?Paul runs on about showing nerves doesn't improve the situation, so you pretend it's hunky dory. Fifteen minutes ago Eammon asked the same question and got the same reply. This time, however, Joe adds a dry postscript.

"After 62 concerts," he says, "You're not too nervous."

WHEN WINGS walk onstage just after 8pm, it is the first time Macca has played at Wembley since Christmas, 1965. Supporting them then were the Moody Blues with Denny Laine. Ah, coincidence.

The opening is like Supersonic, all dry ice and soap bubbles, and like that show, McCartney betrays an incredibly naive appreciation of rock in the 70s. The tension mounts you score an ounce Ole! Since when could anyone even afford an ounce, let alone find anything at a concert? Temperatures rise as you see the whites of their eyes. From where I'm sitting I can't even see their eyes.

The sound is excellent. Paul's playing is a dream, ably matched by Joe, who is consistently the most exciting person on stage. Denny is a competent rhythm support, and Jimmy makes all the right noises without actually challenging Paul. This is the most annoying feature of the evening: no-one challenges Paul's supremacy, no-one pushes him (and the band) into taking risks, taking that step beyond excellent playing and recreation into innovation. As an exercise in reproducing both the sound and arrangements of Wings records the concert is an unqualified success. Paul is an excellent producer, and it's to Showco's credit they can reproduce it in a gymnasium like Wembley. It is to Wings' credit, too, that they can reproduce a complex arrangement like 'Live And Let Die' with note perfect precision. But why is Linda inaudible except when absolutely essential to the sound?

The audience is a mixture of young and middling, nearly all representatives of clean living. Although they've come to see their hero, the mood is restrained. The hall lights half-on doesn't help the atmosphere. Halfway up the bleachers, it's like watching TV with the living room lights too bright.

'Silly', the second encore, is the only unabashed excitement. Jimmy ODs on the guitar intro, Paul is screaming and hoarse. It rocks like a bitch, the only time you can't hear the words because the music is so fucking loud. Linda dances, and it's a pleasure to see that she can now dance. She leaves the stage arm in arm with Paul.

THIRTY MINUTES later it's time for the next round of interviews. The after-gig press conference/interview has become a tour tradition, 15 minutes in which about half a dozen journalists and radio men vie for some golden words. Publicist Tony Brainsby reckons Paul doesn't have to give in-depth interviews any more, but to this mind that means he can satisfy the daily/international press without awkward questions. While a trouble-maker like myself wants to ask if Macca was so concerned about the plight of Venice why didn't he just write out a handsome cheque instead of doing little beyond attracting attention, the Daily Blah Blah is more concerned with Linda's ability to cook not only on stage but in the kitchen and bed, and whether the (yawn) Beatles are going to (zzzz) reform.

We’re back in the same concrete box dressing room that housed the BBC2 interview. On one side of a wooden trestle sits Wings. On the other, John Blake (Evening News), who takes notes and asks no questions, myself (Sounds), Paul Gambaccini (Radio 1), Paul Tilsey (Radio 1 Newsbeat), and Vincent McGarry (Independent Radio News). In the background are the publicist, manager, bodyguard, and sundries.

Paul and Paul sit opposite Paul. It's a three-way conversation, non-Pauls need not apply.

Paul G. opens questioning with a request for details on the imminent live album. Paul McM relates how 800 hours of tape have been reduced to the five best takes of all 31 tracks, how it's likely to be a triple, how they're working overtime to have it ready by Christmas...

"Are you going to be in England for Christmas?," asks Paul G.

"Ummm," thinks Paul, then switches into Liverpudlian. "I don't know Paul, we'll have to see how yon cookie crumbles..."

"A lot of artists don't like live albums," opines Paul T. He obviously hasn't talked to Peter Frampton. "Are you worried about loss of quality?"

"I don't think it's a loss of quality thing. If you liked the show tonight, then you'll like the live album, because that's pretty much what it's going to be. Umm, so if the two million people who came to see the show all over the world buy a record each – " He chuckles and switches into Upper Crust " – Then we'll be okay."

Paul G. asks about re-touring America, giving Paul McM an opportunity to unveil his ability with Brash American.

Paul T. is next into the breach. His Upper Crust is not affected. "What do you think of the British audience?"

"Spiffing."

Hmmm. Yes. Revelations-a-go-go. Paul T does not let go of the reins. Questions about establishing Wings, questions about doing old Beatles numbers, questions about maintaining privacy on the world tour."Are you mad that Capitol are going to release a live 1964 Beatles album," Paul G interjects finally.

"Are they going to do that? No, if a company's going to do that and they have the right, then there's nothing you can do. For me, I wish they hadn't released all the singles in one bunch like that. I thought it would have been better to treat them all as a new single, to find something a little obscure, like 'Baby You're A Rich Man' or 'Hello Goodbye', which still fits with the mood of today. To tell you the truth, once it's over you don't really care what they do with it. You're more interested with what they do with your new stuff."

Throughout, Linda and Denny are a Greek chorus of "Ooh, ah lahk that one," "Right, Jimmy," and other assorted laughs and noises. Linda also spills some beer on Paul's jacket. "Now you'll have to wear another badge," she says. The odd positioning of the badge on his other lapel takes on new significance.

The waffle continues for some 15 minutes. There's the occasional perceptive comment. Paul shows himself to be intelligent beneath the veneer of 'jokies' and 'thingies' and Linda also, when allowed to give a coherent answer instead of ignored inane one liners scattered through her husband's answers. But mostly it's the throw-away simple sentences so beloved by Fleet Street.

With one question left before we are separated, Vincent McGarry finally beats Paul and Paul. "What do you think," he queries, "of people who ask you whether the Beatles will reform?"

"It's alright," sighs Paul. "If they have to ask it then that's alright. I'll answer any question."

"I won't take responsibility for asking it," says Tilsey. (Coward). "But when are the Beatles going to reform?"

Paul delivers his Ali poem.

As the conference disintegrates the others flock around Paul. Linda has twice mentioned China and going there. I ask her why.

"I like their peasant way of life and their farming," she replies. "They're not as materialistic as we are. I'm interested in going as a photographer, really. This was all before Mao died. Now that he's gone I don't know what's going on there. What worries me is that all the good work that Mao did with the people – that's what interests me, the way he got – I think, anyway – all those people working together."

Her interest in China's simple life coincides with earlier comments about growing vegetables and their three room cottage in Scotland.

"It's funny, but I'm not that interested in money. And everyone can say, 'Oh, you can say that, you've got it,' but I know – because I've done it – I could go up to our house in Scotland and grow vegetables and never long for the big cities, no newspapers, and be happier, I think. Really."

So what keeps her onstage?

"Him," she replies, looking over to Paul explaining his tax position to the microphones.

"He couldn't go running all over the country, and I like being with him. But money isn't everything...and this country – " She grimaces. "If people only became self sufficient, they'd be a lot happier, I think. We should all get more in tune with what God gave us, rather than the Industrial Age. There's a million ways of getting this country together. They could give people jobs tearing down all the factories, and then jobs planting the ground. They could, though."

In spite of her amazingly naive idealism, there is something very likeable about Linda.

"Okay, it's crazy – you're really going to laugh when I say this – but I think we should go back to dirt roads, walking to work or riding a horse or a bike – " Yes, Linda, it's crazy. " – saying hello to their neighbour. We're covering the world with concrete and not getting anywhere. Where are we going to go when there's no more earth?"

This kind of thinking pervades her conversation for the next five minutes. Where would Wings be, I wonder, without electricity and technology?

"Well, if we went to China we'd probably just take ourselves. Play acoustic."

Well if that's the case, when the object of the Venice gig was to make money to save the city, why –

" – Did we take 65 tons of equipment so we could crack paving stones and sink it a little further into the mud?" She smiles.

Yes.

"We had no idea. Lorries drive in there every day. Anyway, when you get there! The decadence – it's all palaces. It was all princes and feuding then, wasn't it?"

What – you think that it should be allowed to sink?

"I think it should be made into a fucking museum."

It's a tossed off answer. A minute later Tony Brainsby finally dissolves proceedings. Wings retire to their dressing rooms and supper. Thirty minutes later, Jimmy leaves with his brother and ladies in a Ford Escort. Three Rolls-Royces await the rest of the band.

© 2007 J Ingham