SKINHEAD (1970) and SUEDEHEAD (1971) by RICHARD ALLEN

Richard Allen’s first two books for New English Library (NEL), the notorious Skinhead (1970) and Suedehead (1971) have been republished by Dean Street Press as paperback and digital editions. 

Skinhead began a decade-long run of pulp fiction novels from NEL, tapping into the latest youth cult or fad. Skinhead, in particular, was a huge unexpected success. Selling over a million copies - read by many times that number as battered copies passed around classrooms and playgrounds - its young readers assumed the author recounting East End’s Joe Hawkins putting his bovver boots into the nuts of authority was one of them; someone they could relate to. The reality being somewhat different:  Richard Allen was a Canadian born writer who’d knocked out hundreds of novels under a string of aliases and who was about to turn fifty.

Not being a thirteen or fourteen year old boy in early 70s Britain excited by tales of brutal violence and rape, Skinhead and Suedehead aren’t enjoyable reads. That said I can understand the attraction of taking your gang to Stamford Bridge to infiltrate the Shed and stick it to a bunch of Chelsea fans (or “Chelseaites” as Allen calls them). I can also appreciate Allen’s writing appealed to a section of the population who had no interest in the rest of the literature presented to them, but despite any superficial resemblance to the vicious gang mentality portrayed in A Clockwork Orange these are books are worlds apart when taken as anything other than a titillating read. The protagonists of books aren't required to be likeable, the subject matter doesn’t have to be palatable, but Skinhead and Suedehead are poorly written, nasty pieces of exploitation with few redeeming qualities.

What’s perhaps more interesting is how these books were perceived at the time. As far as I can tell, there wasn’t a massive outcry about the subject matter or, and I don’t want to sound too prudish, that kids were reading this stuff. There would be uproar now to such glorification of the actions of Hawkins and his gang. It’s impossible not to read the triumphant last sentence of Skinhead without hearing the distant echo of cheering playgrounds. The treatment and attitude towards women is, from this distance, quite shocking. That presumably was the intention but I can’t help wonder how close to reality it was. As time capsules go, even accounting for exaggeration, these novels were perhaps best left buried. 

Reading between the lines, the permissiveness of the era was something Allen was keen to rail against and he adopts the tone of a hectoring Daily Mail writer, keen to bring back National Service and hanging to deal with all this unchallenged thuggery. “Since when does molly-coddling criminals pay dividends?” He also manages to take a dig at unions and has one beaten man ask “Can’t you see what this bloody Welfare State is costing Britain?” The books are so right-wing they’ve slipped off the side of my bookcase. Whilst some attitudes from the early 70s have changed for the better, making Skinhead now read like a postcard that's been hidden in the sideboard, others read like our current government. Now, that’s frightening.

Skinhead and Suedehead by Richard Allen are published by Dean Street Press. 

For a very good article about Joe Hawkins, Richard Allen and New English Library see Subbaculture and there’s also this 1996 BBC2 documentary, Skinhead Farewell, which, however improbably, was narrated by Tony Blackburn.

THE HOWLIN' WOLF STORY (2003)

Here’s a great documentary for ya, The Howlin’ Wolf Story. Loads to enjoy in the tale of the man born Chester Burnett down in Mississippi in 1910 and whose voice sends shivers down the spine and whose moaning alone can shake the bones of an elephant.

There are touching interviews in Don McGlynn’s 2003 film with Wolf’s wife, daughters and band members including Hubert Sumlin and some incredible home movie footage taken by drummer Sam Lay in the blues clubs of 1960’s Chicago. More than anything, Wolf comes across as a lovely, level-headed bloke who bucks the stereotype of poor, drunken, philandering bluesmen.

MONKEY PICKS SPOTIFY PLAYLIST by GOD'S ETERNAL JUKEBOX

After posting the monthly playlist on here I’m occasionally asked where the tracks can be found to listen to. I could include links but choose not to as they are generally easily accessible by YouTube or Spotify and it leaves the onus on the reader to engage, however slightly, with the thrill of the chase.

However, Mike Woodward who runs God's Eternal Jukebox blog – containing a veritable feast of wonderful Spotify playlists – has done all the donkey work for you and gone through the Monkey Picks monthly lists throughout the years to create the motherlode: as it currently stands, 577 tracks across over 34 hours. Huge thanks to Mike for making the effort.  

I was a bit sceptic as to how useful such a beast would be – I tend to like neat hour segments – but this week alone I’ve heard from folk playing it at work, down the gym and, most satisfyingly, by the pool on holiday in Cyprus. I’ve dipped in and out of it and to be honest there are so many fantastic songs I’d half forgotten about. So, if you have 34 hours to spare, let me tell you the story of my life…

Here it is: Monkey Picks Spotify Playlist by Mike Woodward

MAVIS STAPLES at the CLAPHAM GRAND, LONDON

“We’ve come all the way from Chicago, to bring you some joy, some happiness, inspiration and positive vibrations!” declared Mavis Staples three songs in to her performance at the Clapham Grand last Tuesday. In those few words Mavis perfectly encapsulates what her gigs are all about: joy, happiness, inspiration and positive vibrations turned up to eleven.

I don’t think I’ve ever beamed from ear to ear through a gig so much. Mavis is a remarkable woman, a little bundle of infectious energy, and the warmth radiating from her expressive face, cackling laugh and sensitive soul could melt the coldest heart. I make no bones about it; I want to give her a big hug. Luckily for her the closest I managed was a touch of her hand when she shook the outstretched paws of the first few rows.

This gig followed her Glastonbury début and watching that online it didn’t come across as well as it should. The mix – or the BBC’s continuing failure to broadcast live music satisfactorily - meant her band were close to inaudible. Here in Clapham they sounded full and funky and Mavis was cooking with them. They are a unit. One of the things which makes Mavis stand out from other touring singers is she always uses her own musicians rather than pick-up bands in different countries. It pays off.

Central to the performance and her music in general these days is Mavis’s working relationship with guitarist Rick Holmstrom. The bond between them is unmissable and beautiful to watch. Mavis is the reluctant solo star. She always wanted to remain singing with her family but the death of her father Pops in 2000 brought an end to the Staple Singers and put Mavis into a period of, at first, voluntary inactivity. But eventually she fought her way back and her later run of albums are every bit as essential as the early ones. It’s not blood anymore but it feels like family.

Yet it’s live, singing for people, delivering her message in person, which is at the heart of Mavis Staples, and she calls her group – the trio of Rick on guitar, Jeff Turmes on bass and Stephen Hodges on drums, plus the Deacon and Squeeky on backing vocals (there’s no sister Yvonne tonight) – “the greatest group in the world” (before gently mocking Kanye West’s grandiose claim of being the greatest rock and roll star on the planet) and there’s no doubt there are no more suitable musicians, who totally understand the feel and soul of the Staples, than these.

When Mavis hits an incredible final note on “Respect Yourself” she and Rick shoot each other a wide-eyed look as if to say “Hey, did you hear that?”; when Mavis embarks on a walkabout during “I Like The Things About Me” to touch the hands of those in the front rows she returns with the very faintest of stumbles unseen by most eyes except Rick’s who gives her an “I told you to be careful” twitch of the head. Mavis for her part can’t help but frequently go up to her band and give them cute little loving rabbit punches.

Sixty-five years in the business – Mavis started very young – she’s fit as a flea (my quick attempt to catch a half decent photo proved impossible as she wouldn’t keep still long enough) and can still belt out a song and make a lyric stand out in new ways. Her songs, and those of the Staples Singers, have always had meaning; they’re not lyrics to fill out a few bars of music. “Take that sheet off your face” on “Respect Yourself” conveys both horror and determination and in the set’s only real ballad “Holy Ghost” the glistening in Mavis’s eyes, as she so obviously remembers her father, demonstrate how deeply she inhabits these songs. It takes a comforting smile from Rick to help regain her composure.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen four Mavis gigs in recent years and they’ve all been unique. This set was different from the visit to London for her birthday last year and had even been altered from Glastonbury three days earlier when “Wade In The Water” and “You’re Not Alone” provided two highlights. That those two tracks make way here shows the depth of the well. Staples’ classics “If You’re Ready (Come Go With Me)” and a mirror-ball shining “I’ll Take You There” top and tailed the set; “Freedom Highway” was incendiary; “Can You Get To That”, “We’re Gonna Make It” and “Slippery People” hit the funk; and, forever marching on, never turning back, there were two tracks from her new Your Good Fortune EP, “Fight” which adds the snap of hip-hop to gospel, and “Wish I Had Answered” a number written by Pops for the church and refreshed here from  the Staples’ 1963 recording.

“You can buy that EP from over there for five dollars,” says Mavis proudly before correcting herself with that rasping laugh of hers, “I mean five pounds. How much is that? About twenty five dollars?” She’s giggling away. “One potato, two potato…” What price joy, happiness, inspiration and positive vibrations?

Your Good Fortune EP by Mavis Staples is out now on Anti-Records. 

HOOTON TENNIS CLUB - "KATHLEEN SAT ON THE ARM OF HER FAVOURITE CHAIR" (2015)

New Record Of The Week: This is the latest single from the Wirral band Hooton Tennis Club. Released by Heavenly on Monday it sounds like a load of good stuff we've heard before but are more than happy to hear again. I've played it again and again and again this morning...

JUNE PLAYLIST

The Wild Magnolias in full bloom. 

1.  BB King – “Sixteen Tons” (1956)

Fare thee well Blues Boy. “Sixteen Tons” – like “Wade In The Water” – is one of those songs where it’s hard to find a version I don’t like. This one I love.

2.  The Avons – “When The Boy That You Love (Is Loving You)” (1967)

Super sweet and sexy girl group soul from Nashville based the Avons. Written, arranged and produced by Bob Holmes this wonderful track has only now seen the light of day thanks to opening Volume 5 of Kent Records’ Northern Soul’s Classiest Rarities series. Worth the 48 year wait.

3.  Roland Al and Beverly’s All Stars – “The Cat” (1967)

Rare inclusion of a Jamaican track in the playlist but tenor saxophonist Roland Alphonso and gang cut a mean version of this.

4.  Marvelettes – “So I Can Love You” (1970)

After a decade spell, their final release, the album The Return of The Marvelettes, was a slight of hand from Motown. The group had disbanded leaving only Wanda Young who recorded some tracks with Smokey Robinson for what she thought would be her solo album. The powers that be thought the Marvelettes’ name carried more weight than Young’s so was released with under the group name, upsetting everyone in the process. None of this should detract from a classy soul album (albeit one packed out – as was Motown’s way – with familiar titles).

5.  Buddy Guy and Junior Wells – “A Man Of Many Words” (1972)

The album title, Buddy Guy and Junior Wells Play The Blues, only hints at what’s on offer. Yes it’s the blues but it’s a funky, full, warm sounding blues made by a couple of old Chicago buddies who don’t sound like they have a care in the world. Everyone gotta dig those blues. 

6.  The Wild Magnolias – “Handa Wanda” (1974)

New Orleans Mardi Gras group the Wild Magnolias supplemented their vocals and percussion tools with the cream of New Orleans musicians including Willie “Walking Up A One Way Street” Tee and Snooks “Richard Barnes’ Mods book” Eaglin on keyboards and guitar respectively. Together they created an album impossible to keep still to.

7.  Suede – “Moving” (1992)

Who saw Suede’s Glastonbury set at the weekend? Mr. Anderson was working it like a spotlight-starved maniac from start to sweaty finish. Absolutely brilliant. It’ll be online somewhere.

8.  Wooden Shjips – “Back To Land” (2013)

Folk who enjoyed Paul Weller’s recent apostrophe burning Saturns Pattern might enjoy the Wooden Shjips long-player Back To Land.

9.  The Sonics – “The Hard Way” (2015)

The Sonics still sound like The Sonics but with hints here of returning the favour to the Jim Jones Revue and the Dead Kennedys.

10.  Sarah Cracknell and Nicky Wire – “Nothing Left To Talk About” (2015)

Crackers returns with a pedal-steeled summery pop winner that even Wire singing, as always, like a deaf man vocals can’t spoil. Lovely. 

THE JAM: ABOUT THE YOUNG IDEA. LAUNCH PARTY at SOMERSET HOUSE

Paul Weller and Martin Freeman

The Jam: About The Young Idea is a new comprehensive exhibition dedicated to one of Britain’s best loved bands. Or, in the words of Paul Weller’s father which greet entrants painted in huge letters, “The best fucking band in the world.” 

Whichever way you slice it, during their five-year and six-album recording career, The Jam achieved that rare balance of attaining huge commercial success whilst maintaining their integrity. Much has been written and said about Weller’s decision to split the band in 1982 but to have continued without his heart in it would have made a mockery of the band’s honesty and openness. It was the right thing to do and in keeping with their/his ethical code.

That doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have a little reminisce now and again this exhibition provides the perfect opportunity to reflect on those days. It also offers a look at what young Britain was like for many during the 1970s and early 80s. With the entire band and the Weller family opening their archive plus items from collector Den Davis, and curated by Nicky Weller, Tory Turk and Russell Reader it’s packed with memories.

The launch party was last night and thanks to Mrs Monkey’s contacts and the kindness of photographer Martyn Goddard and his wife Bev, we were in for an early view and to hobnob with an array of obvious and less-obvious guests. After passing Bar Italia Scooter Club’s line-up at the gates we wandered into the courtyard of Somerset House and a quick scan revealed, among others: Mick Talbot, Martin Freeman, Paul Cook, Glen Matlock, the Strypes, Gem Archer, Mark Powell, Jeremy Vine, Steve Craddock, Paul Whitehouse, Mark Lamaar, Matt Berry, the grey haired bloke out of Phoneshop, some Mods, the occasional female and, wait for it, Trevor & Simon.

Yet the very first person we spotted was Bruce Foxton and naturally we nabbed him for a photo and asked what he thought of the exhibition. He still hadn’t been in to see it. Bruce, probably wary he was going to get accosted all night, wasn’t very chatty and appeared slightly disorientated so we left him alone before I could ask him to explain that “Freak” single. As a kid I always thought he was quite tall but he’s not, he just jumped high.

After a few glasses of champagne it was time to mooch around the exhibition. It had everything you’d expect: items of clothing (boating blazers, Union Jack jackets, suits, bowling shoes, “Eton Rifles” jacket, boxing boots etc); instruments (row of Rickenbackers including the Wham!, the red one with “I Am Nobody” scratched into the body, the black one, Bruce Foxton’s white bass from “Town Called Malice”, Rick Buckler's drum kit etc); posters, fanzines and music press front covers; photos, badges etc.

All well and good but the real treasure came in the early rooms (think there were six in total) which had gone through Paul Weller’s teenage drawers and uncovered his early dreams and schemes. Like many (guilty) he’d drawn himself in cartoon format (“The Adventures of Paul The Mod”); designed early ideas for imaginary single and album covers (guilty); sketched a row of Black Power fists (“Right On Brothers”); and made attempts at poetry and songs. These were circa 1972-3, when Weller was about fourteen. He had it all worked out but unlike most of us dreamers had the steely determination to see it through. The family photos and pictures of a kipper-tied Jam attempting to entertain working men's clubs are a treat too.  

Martyn Goddard was a photographer for Polydor (starting with Queen in 1973, luckily he moved onto better things...) and worked with The Jam all the way from In The City to Sound Affects and chatted us through some of his work: the picture of Bond Street tube station at midnight, the In The City wall, strolling down Carnaby Street, his own jukebox on the sleeve of Sound Affects which he still has and uses. Martyn said he knew right from the start the band were special as they had something about them and everything came directly from them. They weren’t controlled by managers or external forces, it was simply them and they knew what they wanted. Although Martyn saw them progress from new band with a debut record to a having records enter the charts at number one he didn’t really see a change in them as people. It was noticeable in Martyn’s images that although Weller was the creative driving force the photographs were always of the three of them. They – Paul, Bruce, Rick – were a band. Martyn suggested Paul felt strongly tied to the fact they were a band and that was a contributing factor in splitting to allow him greater freedom, unencumbered (my word, not Martyn’s) by the other two. I don't think there's any argument in that. More of his work can be seen in a separate exhibition, Golden Faces: Photographs of The Jam 1977-80 by Martyn Goddard at Snap Galleries and in a new book, Growing Up With The Jam.

I wouldn’t have put much money on Paul Weller attending the launch do but he was there. There were scores of Wellers in fact. Getting access to him was nigh on impossible though as he was scuttled in and then out by security. He did grab a few folk for a hug, a couple of photos, a photo opportunity with Martin Freeman - who rather than prepare for his forthcoming role as Steve Marriott had come as Max Headroom - and then off to a secret hideaway away from pestering acolytes desperate to touch the hem of his garment. Not sure about the blue lensed shades but he looked fit and well. I cannot answer Mrs Monkey’s query as to whether he uses a spray tan with any great authority.

Back outside and on to the free beer we had a good chat with Paul Cook about the Sex Pistols and their contribution to Britain’s history; working with Edywn Collins; and getting the Professionals back together (Cook and Steve Jones, not Bodie and Doyle). Author and man-about-town Mark Baxter and I chewed on the idea of an equivalent Style Council retrospective, something I put to Mick Talbot shortly afterwards (I can work fast sometimes).

Mick didn’t really think there would be much call for a Style Council exhibition in this country but Italy or Japan might be more accommodating. Ever the Internationalists the Style Council. Like Paul Cook, Mick wasn’t a hoarder of stuff but did have a few pieces knocking around. “Haven’t you got a pair of your old espadrilles in the bottom of a wardrobe?” Mick couldn’t confirm that. I should say this was the third time I’ve spoken with Mick and he’s always been interesting and good fun. He also spoke about playing on The Jam’s version of “Heatwave” (I love that version) and memories of joining the band at the Lyceum to do it live. He sounded like a Jam fan, just like the rest of us.

The Jam: About The Young Idea is at Somerset House, London. Open daily until 31 August 2015, admission £9.50.

Golden Faces: Photographs of The Jam 1977-80 by Martyn Goddard at Snap Galleries, 12 Piccadilly Arcade, SW1 from 1 July to 8 August 2015 (Tuesday to Saturday), admission free.

Details of Growing Up With… The Jam can be found here.   

From The Jam. Bruce Foxton's attempt at reforming the band aren't going to plan...