The 40 In 40 Days Project.
 

29. The Concept Albums (1975-78)

Main Index

The Au Pairs
The Step-stepfather
The Simulated Wank
The Toy Store
The First Single
The Queeny Put-Down
The First Hissy Fit
The First Gay Club
The Rent Boy
The Heterosexual Phase
The Lifestyle Switch
The Empty Floor
The First Poem
The Amsterdam Weekend
The First Time
The Perfect Moment
The Year In Berlin
The Trade Years
The First Memory
The Anniversary Party
The Incompetencies
The Pricking Of The Bubble
The Club Residencies
The "Tales of the City" House
The Musical Epiphany
The Worst Thing I Ever Did To Anyone
The Royal Procession
The Parental Disclosure
The Concept Albums
The Romantic Obsession
The Failure
The Apotheosis of Queer
The Shove From Above
The Interrogation
The Professional Rut
The Rebirthday
The First Boyfriend
The "Catharsis Of Joy"
The Funeral Address
The Falling In Love

Chronological Index

troubled diva

At the age of thirteen, I decided to record my own concept album. I had recently realised that with two portable cassette recorders, it was possible to create a multi-tracked piece of music, and the possibilities of this enthralled me. My modus operandi therefore went as follows:

1. Think up a suitably freaky, surreal album title. In this case, Supper At Jojo’s or The Pink Genies Ride Again.

2. Think up an equally freaky artist name. In this case – and I have no idea where this came from – I decided to call myself (ahem) Fanta-Lick Extraordinaire.

3. Think up twenty interesting sounding track titles, and write them down. At this stage, I had no idea what each track would sound like – I would use the titles as inspiration. Tracks included: Funky Lone Ranger, Lemon Anorak, Like It Or, Maxine By The Graves, Mildred The Worm Manages To Sing Along, Cheapside Kate.

4. Gather every musical instrument in the house together in one room. There weren’t many to choose from: a recorder, a guitar (which I couldn’t play), a Rolf Harris Stylophone, and a digeridoo. I augmented this with a large array of percussion devices, mostly taken from my old toy cupboard.

5. For each track, I would first write a lyric, if the song required one. Again, freakiness and surrealism were my watchwords here – literal meaning came way down the list. Influences at the time would have been Gong, Edith Sitwell’s Façade, Monty Python, Pink Floyd and early Soft Machine.

6. I would then build up the track layers as follows. Record track 1 through the microphone of tape recorder A. Play it back through the speakers of tape recorder A, while recording through the microphone of tape recorder B and simultaneously playing/singing whatever was needed for track 2. Play back combined tracks 1 & 2 through tape recorder B, while recording on tape recorder A and performing track 3. And so on, until the track sounded finished. Of course, this meant a lot of tape hiss built up, with the earlier tracks sounding progressively more muddy, but I liked the effect this produced. Tracks were kept short – usually around 1.5 to 2.5 minutes long.

I was enormously pleased with the finished album (a full 40 minutes’ worth), and played it over and over again – though never to anyone else. The recordings weren’t intended for others to hear, and I was actually quite secretive about them. As a result, without the discipline that would have come with attempting to appeal to an audience, I gave free rein to any mad idea which popped into my head. I also gave free rein to my thirteen year old’s idea of “wacky” humour (Python, Goodies, Goons etc), with much use of “comedy” voices throughout. The humour has not aged well. In fact, the entire album makes me cringe when I hear it now. A sweet little project, but one which would have benefited from more forethought, seriousness of intent, and – let’s be honest here – musical ability.

With a piano added to the line-up, and later a clarinet, I went on to make two follow-up albums to Supper At Jojo’s. In Spring 1976, Fanta-Lick Extraordinaire released the Cleopatra album, followed in Autumn 1976 by (Lord love me!) The Cult Of Wekki-Wekki or Mr. B. Slagheap’s Ankles. I then put Fanta-Lick Extraordinaire out to grass, and formed my fantasy art-rock band, The Placemats.

The Placemats were influenced by the burgeoning experimental indie scene that was then being championed by John Peel: The Residents, Desperate Bicycles, very early Devo, Thomas Leer, Robert Rental, The Normal. The musical discipline tightened up – I would now score much of the music in notebooks before recording it. The wacky humour was jettisoned. The lyrics remained bizarre, wilfully obtuse, stream of consciousness stuff. The music remained unplayed to others, and for good reason – I am making it sound far more interesting than it actually was. The musical ability, you see, was as negligible as ever.

The Placemats recorded two albums: Mood Music For Every Occasion (1977) and Rowing Across The Chesterfield Canal With The Placemats (1978). And then, the concept albums were no more. There were, however, a few more attempts at home made music, in particular, a pop song called “Hole In My Life” (1982) which actually showed some slight signs of promise – despite a hilariously Freudian chorus:

You say I might be distorting the truth
I say, who really cares?
So what if my heart isn’t breaking in two
And I’m not drowning in a sea of tears?
I want you – I know that
At least I know it when you’re not around
You give me so much – but what do I need
You’re turning me upside down!

Chorus:
I love you…
At least, in some ways I do…
There’s a hole in my life
But could it be filled by you?
There’s a hole in my life, a hole in my life
But could it be filled by you?
Could it be filled by you?

I hear ABC on the radio
It makes me feel good for a while
Then I think of last week when I was dancing with you
Putting on all that style
I want you – I know that
But I didn’t miss you at the party on Sunday
When the feeling died down
And I thought about things
Did I still want you on Monday?

Chorus.

Very little survives of the music I recorded. I’ve still got the cassette of Supper At Jojo’s and some Placemats backing tracks. However, instead of making these available, I’d rather you listened to these two offerings. They were recorded almost twenty years ago, in my friend Pete’s room, using his WASP synth, electric piano and drum machine, in a student flat on the Ilkeston Road. Both tracks were done on the same evening, with no second takes. I hope you will be charmed by their raw immediacy…

The first track is a reworked instrumental version of The Placemats’ biggest hit, “Listen To The Placemats”. If you listen closely, you might be able to detect the Ramones song from which it steals its central riff.

Download it here. (1.58MB) Sorry! No longer available!

On the second track, Pete is Diana Ross, and I – in all my multi-tracked glory – am Mary Wilson and Florence Ballard. Listen as I join in around the 30 second mark, and then attempt to upstage Pete for all I am worth. Maybe I should have been a drag artiste.

Download it here. (2.52MB) Sorry! No longer available!

Pete went on to become a successful record producer, who has worked with acts as diverse as Bucks Fizz, The The, Robbie Williams and Def Leppard. But we all have to start somewhere, don’t we!

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