Yer author & Hermann, who’s been behaving hisself but could do with more Meek on ‘im… (Photo: Beccy Connell)
I’ve long been partial to Joe Meek, thanks to being introduced to such RGM/Meeksville Sound stormers as The Syndicats’ “Crawdaddy Simone” and “You’re Holding Me Down” by The Buzz via various bootleg sets while in my teens, and subsequent early-1990s edumacation into the delights of Screaming Lord Sutch, Heinz’s choicest flipsides and a whole plethora of 304 Holloway Road greats by articles in the ever-awesome Ugly Things magazine and such pals as Toe Rag Studios’ majordomo, Liam Watson; vinyl magpies extraordinaire, Wayne ‘Katmandude’ Northern and Tony ‘The Folkie’ Bailey; and the (then) manager of Rock On in Camden Town, Nick ‘Technimedia’ Garrad.
After the appearance of John Respch’s Meek biography and the Arena TV documentary, my appreciation for Meek’s otherness – sonically, conceptually, and within the framework of the 1950s and 1960s music biz – deepened considerably. I even got to climb the stairs of 304 one night, along with several pals who were far deeper into the thing than I, for a Joe Meek Appreciation Society event which, if I remember rightly, included a screening of rare footage plus a pub gig featuring various former artists (memory hazy here!).
Needless to say, during Nick Moran’s incredibly impressive Meek biopic, “Telstar”, which Nadia and I journeyed to Bristol to see yesterday, in a mall strip deemed by my wonderful wife to be “The second most depressing place ever – after Dyess, Arkansas”, I was getting multi-sensory flashbacks (not THAT kind!) like crazy.
Informed by a Proustian mixture of Holloway Road traffic fume funk and baking paving slabs, ‘London rented flat’ cheap carpet despair, and (first location) Toe Rag Studio’s miasma of hot valves, farts, roll-ups and warm Tolex, I came to the conclusion that – a handful of unfortunate mishtakes and understandable acts of dramatic licence notwithstanding – “Telstar” is the finest, most true to the gosh-darn spirit of rock’n'roll motion picture made thus far, which isn’t really saying much for it as a genre form, but suffice to say that the bar is now infantesimally higher. Con O’Neill should get an Oscar for his depiction of Meek. My god (your god, what god?), he is wonderful.
But even if you’ve never passed by 304 Holloway Road on the bus, craning your neck to see if it was still for sale or even occupied, as I did countless times in my London years; thrilled to the frequent ‘silk purse from sow’s ear’ nature of Meek’s stunning productions for the likes of Sutch and Heinz; or puzzled about the man in any way, then “Telstar” is still an amazing piece of dramatic work – “Really brilliant” quoth Nadia. From James Corden’s hilarious turn as Clem Cattini, thru the sly cameos by an amazing array of Meek artists and associates, to the unlikely but effective use of the ‘other fella’ from The Libertines as (sweet) Gene Vincent, it’s a helluva ride.
The few, in my opinion, occasions where Moran wrong-footed are to do with minor details (Mitch Mitchell never had an afro when he was with The Riot Squad, the wrong Vox AC15 amps being depicted, yawn etc) and showing 304 studio assistant Patrick Pink as having been Meek’s lover (not the case). But there’s certainly no major, insurmountable, WTF? type of clangers, as was the case with “Cadillac Records” (writing Phil Chess out of the story!), or big screen schmaltzification, as with the (admittedly v. enjoyable) “Great Balls Of Fire” and “Walk The Line”.
So for those who have been asking me, via Fizzogbook, what “Telstar” was like, in a word: AMAZING!
So go and see it!
My favourite Joe Meek tunes, productions, whatever:
1) “‘Til The Following Night” – Screaming Lord Sutch (HMV): A glorious example of Meek’s unsurpassed sonic resourcefulness and willingness to go the extra (murder) mile, in order to present an absolutely no-hope, can’t carry a tune in a gold bucket ‘talent’ in the best possible light. After a ‘kitchen sink’ (probably literally) scene-setter of graveyard effects, Richie Blackmore and co. kick-off in a storming manner, before Sutchy comes in exactly at the wrong time (“When…”), totally on the off-beat and out of tune, thus ruining all their hard work and assuring his immortality. Genius, all-round. Quite expensive to find on 45, but keep hunting cos it’s REALLY worth it – think I gladly paid a tenner for my copy.
2) “Can’t Get Through To You” – The Honeycombs (Pye): The Meek-penned flip to the poptastic “That’s The Way” predates Nick ‘Basher’ Lowe’s insanely speedy work on the first Damned LP by many a moon and only has a contemporary analogue in the eponymous debut set from Dutch geniuses The Outsiders. Seriously compressed, sped-up guitar work gives this paranoid classic, which reportedly concerns Meek’s ongoing infatuation with Heinz, an amphetamine edge like that of no other “selective walking” (i.e. stalking) tune hitherto discovered! Many thanks to Liam Watson for first playing me this about 15 years back, and Russell ‘Rusty’ Hopkinson for reminding me of its greatness while visiting the other month. Easily available on 45 for £3-£4.
3) “Bring It To Jerome” – David John & The Mood (Parlophone): A raving, pounding slice of Brit rhythm’n'blues greatness (bowl haircut, armful of maraccas, secondhand leer, several PYE R&B records nearby) that features ‘toilet chain on biscuit tin’ percussion. I kid ye not. Original 45′s insanely expensive, but it’s been booted on 7″ in the past coupla years.
4) “Peter Gunn Locomotion” – Freddie Starr (Decca): Sometimes, useless musical knowledge can prove beneficial to the community at large, such as about a decade back, when I happily settled an overheard, obviously escalating argument between two late middle-aged strangers in a Chelsea boozer, by stating that, yes, Freddie Starr did once make a great rock’n'roll record. Well, he’s fucking hopeless on it, but everything else is just another case of Meek going all-out for glory, welding the Peter Gunn theme to crappy, Locomotion-quoting lyrics, with screams and everyfink. Pretty difficult to get on 45, but I’ve managed to pick up a couple of copies over the years, for around an “I’ll give it foive”-er.
5) “Johnny, Remember Me” – John Leyton (Top Rank): The most genuinely strange record to ever hit No. 1? A mainstay of car boot sales and charity shops everywheres, and a serious amount of sonics for 50p.
6) “Come On Back” – The Cryin’ Shames (Decca): A late-period freakbeat classic from Meek, replete with incredibly atmospheric, muchos wobbly organ, bass and guitar interplay. Spooky-ookey! Again, the original 45 is an eye-watering rarity, but it was recently reissued on 45 by Gary Ramon’s ACME label.
7) Crawdaddy Simone – The Syndicats (Columbia): When this monstrous cut pounds its way into your brain during the closing credits of “Telstar”, it sounds like nothing as much as the musical equivalent of Stonehenge: monumental, unfathomable and existing outside of time itself. Probably Meek’s most sought-after mid-60s release, the original 45 goes for an astronomical figure, but it’s been repro-ed on 7″ recently. I don’t regret much in life, but on that short list is not buying an original demo 45 of this for, what seemed then an astronomical price of, £50 back in the mid-1980s. Oh, well…
Addendum: My good friend and former colleague, Ali Catterall, co-author of the classic Brit fillum tome, “Your Face Here”, found “Telstar” to be “An embarrassing farrago, an amateurish, incoherent pantomime”. Check out Ali’s review here and make yer own mind up…
