MUSICAL TIME-LINE CHAPTER 3 - Merseybeat, Mods & Rockers

In October 1962, when the Beatles' "Love Me Do" briefly entered the UK Top 20, nobody, certainly not ten-year-old me, had any idea what it signified.

At this time distance, I'm not even sure I heard it. I would typically only hear new music by established artists who appeared on TV variety shows, big hits that made it to "6-5 Special" or "Ready Steady Go", or as a new release put before the week's panel of celebrities by David Jacobs on "Juke Box Jury".

Early in 1963, though, everything changed. The Beatles' second single. "Please Please Me" definitely crossed my bows and I'm sure the only reason I didn't buy it at first hearing was lack of funds. It sounded unlike anything before but was nonetheless instantly accessible even to my young ears. These guys were VERY cool!

Very soon, mere weeks later, it was as if somebody had opened a huge gate and, in a sense, they had. Almost instantly all those TV and radio shows were full of groups in suits with hair that we thought was long but which was, by the standards of only a few years later, positively military. Most had the standard "Shadows" line-up of three guitarists and a drummer (subtleties like lead, rhythm and bass would soon be understood, but not yet) used by the Beatles, quickly followed by Gerry & The Pacemakers, the Searchers, Kinks, Four Pennies and many others.

There were variations, though, and we, the new fans - especially the junior ones like me - took note of them all. Add a "stand-up" singer with nothing more than a tambourine, pair of maraccas or a mouth-organ and you'd get the Rolling Stones, Hollies, Brian Poole & The Tremeloes or Billy J Kramer & The Dakotas. Add a funny little organ on tubular steel legs to that and you've got the.Animals. Add a saxophone to that and you've got the Dave Clark Five - doubly odd for being a group named after the drummer but who wasn't the singer. One, the Honeycombs, had a girl member (is that even allowed?) playing drums, of all things. Another, The Applejacks, had a girl bass player.

Terms like "Merseybeat" (I don't think I'd even heard of the River Mersey previously), "Beat Boom", and the like were suddenly everywhere. I heard the term "Scouse" meaning the suddenly fashionable Liverpool accent, for the first time - and the accent itself. Even a manager, Brian Epstein, became famous, along with his version of the story of his "discovery" of the Beatles (hiding under a pile of fans in the Cavern Club, I presume). Magazines like "Merseybeat", ``Teen Beat" and more joined the choices at the local newsagent - and one called simply "The Beatles". It was all suddenly about Liverpool, guitars, hair (now pronounced "'er") and "the beat"

Suddenly too, and seemingly from nowhere, came a new gaggle of girl singers. We'd had the Helen Shapiros and the Susan Maughans before and this was essentially not very different except these girls were somehow supposed to be part of everything else that was going on - I didn't get it. OK, so Cilla Black had been the coat-check girl at the Cavern Club and had a "Scouse" accent better than three of the Beatles! (George being the exception). But her first big hit, and all the others that I can remember, had no guitars but an ORCHESTRA playing! Whaddya think this is? 1962? No, it's 1963, get with it.

Dusty Springfield had been in The Springfields until shortly before. That was a folky sort of three piece group with her brother Tom. I knew and tolerated her but still, she wasn't a group. And Petula Clark's back? Isn't she supposed to be in France or somewhere? And she's on this program with the Rolling Stones? You can't do that, it'll destroy them. Contamination was dangerous. The only one of these girls I liked was Lulu. She belted, rocked and screamed her way through "Shout" so fast and loud you just HAD to like her, but the rest, uncool.

A word about words. These were "groups" not "bands". "Bands", until much later in the decade, were either jazz (meaning New Orleans jazz, known in the UK as "Trad") bands, "big" bands (meaning swing and/or dance bands left over from the 40s) or marching bands. "Rock", on its own was never used. Rock 'n' Roll meant the 50s kind ONLY. This music was POP. That's it, just POP. Whether it was really pop in the modern, American radio, sense of the word, or blues, ska (The Migil Five's "Mocking Bird Hill`` surely was), a ballad, country song - no matter. If it's not classical (and to some, if it's not jazz) it's POP.

Soon, of course, just like with football, it became necessary to pick sides. It was OK to like any group at this early stage, even Freddie & The Dreamers, though not for long, but you HAD to choose a favourite between the Beatles and the Stones. I don't know why. Some playground bully somewhere wrote down the rule and there it was, I suppose. I was Beatles, when forced to choose, but really, back then, it was pretty close.

Parents, and adults in general, had no such difficulty. Generally, they all thought all the music was too loud, even when played very quietly. What they MEANT was they could hear the drums and (given state of the art reproduction and/or Bill Wyman) bass. My father once conceded that the Beatles "had a few nice tunes" but thought the Stones were "a disgrace". My mother, while more tolerant generally, could not look - I mean really COULD NOT LOOK - at Mick Jagger singing - "Ugh, those LIPS!!!".

The ones we went off very quickly - Freddie & The Dreamers, The Four Pennies, The Searchers, tended to be the more acceptable ones to adults and the fragmenting of "pop music" started to accelerate, but more of that in later chapters. At this stage, the big divide became between the "Mods" and "Rockers"

This was serious stuff - headline news, not entertainment news. Huge riots and fights in coastal resorts all over the country fought by gangs - one on Italian scooters the other on British motor-bikes. They disagreed about everything except how important it was to fight each other and where they should do it. In music, the Rockers were what the name suggests. Their heroes were Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochran, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, even Bill Haley. Their music, and many of its top exponents, had either died, been conscripted, been disgraced or had just plain disappeared - their music was old, but still cool and often covered by the new groups. The Mods, on the other hand, and again, as the name suggests, wanted the modern music. Instead of leathers, they wanted costumery and they inadvertantly started the move towards the seriously odd fashions of the latter part of the decade. Their heroes - in London anyway - were The Who, the Kinks, The Small Faces.

Apart from the "playground" decisions, this was all just a sideshow to me. Turning 11 in June of 1963, I still knew little of the 50s Rock 'n' Roll, except for a few singles I had. I was firmly with the new groups but in no way felt I was embracing "Mod Culture". My record purchases that year included The Beatles' next two singles "From Me To You" and "She Loves You", plus the "Twist And Shout" EP, (culled from the "Please Please Me" LP). The Rolling Stones' "I Wanna Be Your Man" and "Not Fade Away", The Hollies' "Stay" and, still a contender for favourite single of all time, though an odd fit here, The Ran-Dells' "Martian Hop". This last perhaps speaks to my youth at the time but it was not a hit - just something I heard and asked Mrs.Thorpe for. I still maintain it's an overlooked classic and, having copied onto a CD years ago, still play it often.

Unlike at any time in my, still short, experience, my favourite music was being made by people who regularly appeared in mainstream media. We learned about their lives - especially the Beatles. Everybody, yes, EVERYBODY knew the names John, Paul, George and Ringo. Most knew which was which without too much study of a photo. We even knew Ringo's real name. In contrast, it was years before I knew that "Lonnie" was a name that Anthony Donegan had borrowed from Lonnie Johnson. We began to realise that the beat phenomenon was not just from Liverpool. There were big name groups right here in London - The Rolling Stones and The Kinks being the two biggest of the early ones. The Hollies were from Manchester - same place as the, already three year old, Coronation Street (how does THAT work?).

At Christmas, I was given The Beatles' second LP, "With The Beatles", my first real pop album, and played it till I knew every note. It was actually the fourth LP I had. After "Olde Englyshe" (see Chapter 2), I had used birthday money the previous year to triple my 33rpm holdings. The choices are evidence that I was still an indiscriminate listener but I still have both additions and they have proven well worth the expense. "Pye" records had a budget label called "Golden Guinea" - a guinea being an obscure and obsolete monetary unit still in use at that time by bespoke tailors, horse dealers and antique shops. It was 21 shillings, or one pound, and one shilling, commonly written as " 21/- ". "Golden Guinea" albums, and there were hundreds, sold for 21 shillings - on sale for only 19/-  the day I went, instead of more like 2 pounds (40 shillings) for regular releases. Having gone flush with birthday money and determined to buy records with it, I bought two that Mrs. Thorpe happened to have in the shop.

One was "Top TV Themes", a surprisingly listenable album featuring the theme tunes of popular TV shows of the time, domestic and American. "Steptoe & Son", which the Americans later cloned to make "Stamford & Son" had a theme tune called "Old Ned" by Ron Grainer - who also did the original "Doctor Who" theme. That was the one that sold me the LP but also "Maigret", "The Saint", "Dr. Kildare", "Z Cars", "Dr' Finlay's Casebook", "Perry Mason" and "Hancock's Tune", from "Hancock's Half Hour" were favourite shows and I knew I liked the theme music. Writing this now, in 2012, I am inspired to hear it. Wait a sec, I'll put it on...... Good. Z Cars!

I played it rigtht through and it's pure golden nostalgia.

The other bizarre but unregretted choice was "The Flintstones" - yes, Fred and Barney. The series had started on UK TV a year or so earlier and I was a fan. Here, on this album, were the soundtracks, complete, of the first two episodes; "The Snorkasaurus", about how they got their pet "Dino" while supposedly on a hunting trip and "The Big Bank Robbery". I haven't made a scientific analysis but I think only Monty Python and the Hitch-Hiker`s Guide To The Galaxy have provided me with more quotable quotes down the years.

As 1963 and 1964 cruised along, the only thing that stopped me from filling my bedroom with records was a chronic cash shortage; it certainly wasn't for lack of choice . A friend (who will probably read this at some point - Hi Ro) had an older sister who had left school and was working. She was consequently unbelievably wealthy in our eyes and bought quite a few records, mostly the same ones we would have bought given the means. She let us play them (I THINK she knew we did) and that filled in many gaps. It was from her pile of singles that I first heard the Beach Boys. She had the "I Get Around / Don't Worry Baby" single and I thought, even then, that this was VERY special though it would be a couple of years yet before I could call myself a fan. She also occasionally bought LP's. "A Hard Day's Night" is the first I remember.

My solution to the poverty induced shortage of new records came by inspiration from another friend. His father had a tape recorder and lots of music on tape.. The problem was we liked very little of the actual music he chose to record, but what a CONCEPT!!

I forget the details but I worked out a plan with my father who understood and approved of the plan but was anxious to stop me from buying some cheap thing that wouldn't do the job and, around October 1964, I bought a "Shaftesbury" reel-to-reel tape recorder for (I think) about 10 Pounds.

By this time, I had moved my record player, records, DC comics, Corgi cars, everything I owned, into the tiny spare bedroom in our house. My father had also acquired a new radio to replace the old valve affair that Teddy (see Chapter 2) had made for him some years before. The old one now came upstairs with me too.

Every Sunday sfternoon, Alan Freeman, one of the BBC's big name music presenters (they weren't calling them DJs yet) had a show called "Pick Of the Pops" for two hours. He would play a selection of new releases for the week, a couple of other segments I can't recall and then, in the second hour, the entire Top 20, countdown style. It's old hat now, of course, but new to me then and a goldmine when you have a tape recorder.

I could get masses of music on a tape. Four track mono meant I got 2400 feet of tape at 1.875 inches per seconds and used the tape FOUR TIMES over! That's about 400 songs on one tape and all A sides. That's equivalent to a pile of singles four feet high.but, because it was difficult to find particlar songs or edit the tape once recorded, I had to make sure I only recorded what I wanted to keep.

For 18 months or so, I concentrated on taping songs from the radio and built up about three tapefuls - including my friend's sister's records which, by the end, included "Meet the Monkees" and "Rubber Soul". All this recording was done by placing the machine's microphone in front of the radio or record player, finger on the "Pause" button and keeping very quiet indeed, so the quality was not great!. Such cash as I had still went on records but now I would trawl used bins again and get far more for the money.

By late 1966, I had all the obvious singles from the intervening period. The Stones, for me, peaked in those years with "19th. Nervous Breakdown", "Paint It Black" and "The Last Time", The Beatles were still getting better and cooler. Most of the "tamer" groups from 1963 had gone or at least faded but we still had the truly transformed Kinks, the much slicker Hollies, the rapidly improving Small Faces and Who.

There were also many great "one hit wonders" and short lived groups like "Hedhehoppers Anonymous", ""Pinkerton's Assorted Colours", "The Poets" and dozens more, plus artists, usually solo singers to be avoided at all costs lest they spoil the whole tape. Who? Oh all right, Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck, Ken Dodd, Jim Reeves, Donald Piers, Cilla Black, Petula Clark (Part II), Julie Rodgers, The Bachelors, and others, but you get the idea. Occasionally, my taping would capture a new release that did not grow into a hit. I remember pushing "RECORD" on hearing the names "Simon & Garfunkel" and getting "Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine" and later being glad I had it but sad it had failed. Two oddities that I have only quite recently found on compilation CDs but, until doing so, had never heard except on my old tape were Dickey Lee's "I Saw Linda Yesterday" and Little Jimmy' Dickens' "May the Bird of Paradise Fly up Your Nose", both US hits but miscalculations on Alan Freeman's part as far as UK success went.

By late 1966, it was obvious that the music was moving into new territories and picking up new and strange influences. I was becoming unsatisfied with the tape experience and gradually started to move back to records. I still played the old tapes for many years but, strangely for me, have no idea what eventually happened to them or the player. The innocent days of the Merseybeat were over although the best of its proponents were still very much alive. At the same time, I was becoming a teenager.