Today’s studio blog is about Wessex Sound Studios.
A monstrous sound, a wee Glaswegian, a Sinatra film and a church hall.
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Musings on the byways of popular culture
Musings on the byways of popular culture
by 8 Comments
Today’s studio blog is about Wessex Sound Studios.
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Another cracker, Niall! I remember hearing “Be Good To Yourself” on John Peel’s show, which prompted me to make a purchase. I should have bought the LP, too (listening to it on Qobuz right now!).
I saw them when the album came out – one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen.
And, thanks.
psssst!
Quick, before anyone else wakes up, reach for the edit button – it’s 21st Century, not 20th!
BTW it’s lovely to see Frankie get some generous mentions – I have all of the albums; he’s a real forgotten figure who left a trail of great performances and recordings.
Ta – amazing what you miss after 3 proof-reads.
Frankie is a gem. A proper songwriter. When I Can’t Change It cropped up in Life On Mars, I cried. It just caught me out completely.
In Glasgow he’s a giant. Have you seen the average height of a Weegie. (But don’t stare, they’ll still eat your eyes out…..)
Marvellous as ever.
I’m not in the least bit religious but I regularly thank the Lord – churches make the best recording studios and gig venues.
Frankie’s Be Good To Yourself is/was on a recent Andy Kershaw podcast. It was just what I needed as I barrelled down the A1 yesterday, having dropped off Offspring The Elder to start her second year at Lincoln.
My friends and I went to see Frankie Miller at Oxford Polytechnic in 1977. He had made a few decent records, nothing revolutionary but some good tunes, and some righteous anger for the common man. He cultivated the image of – and quite possibly was – a Glasgow hard man, in the manner of Alex Harvey without the theatricality. Once the gig was under way we were quite encouraged to see that he was playing to type as he seemed a bit pished, rambling about how he wanted a hit record so he could buy ‘yin o’ thae wee hooses in the country’. A fellow weegie in the audience kept shouting ‘ye’ll be wantin’ a bricklayer Frankie’; Frankie wasn’t in the mood for banter and told him to shut up. A comparison could be made with Graham Parker, who was drawing on the same sources, but Frankie’s tunes were a tad more generic, and the group didn’t swing like The Rumour, plus they were all a bit older, wore lionel blairs and looked like off-duty coppers. About halfway through the set one of my friends swiped a setlist from the stage and as each song ended we shouted for the next one on the list, whooping loudly as the group duly launched into the number we had ‘requested’. This was uproariously funny until Frankie started to look very fed up, at which point we desisted in case he should decide to jump off the stage and put the heid on us. We were too scared to go backstage for an autograph.