Bucketfull Of Brains
1979 (Issue 1)
The Soft Boys
by Nigel Cross
In some respects it's unbelievable that a group of musicians as talented as The Soft Boys is still doing the pubs and clubs of London and other parts of Britain. However, with their strong new lineup and impressive new repertoire of songs, it's only a matter of time now before they finally tread the paths of stardom and mass acceptance. The new set bristles with an energy and ideas that so many bands nowadays don't even know exists: the songs on the whole are more accessible, the rhytms more danceable, and the lyrics less esoteric. But for those who were originally attracted by the scripted anarchy and weirdness of yore (strongly reminiscent of the manic Captain and his Magic Band) fear not, becaue there is still plenty of bizarreness around too! The vinyl moguls are sniffing and sending out their lackeys with contracts, tho' after all the band have been through, The Soft Boys are understandably wary and are taking their time before signing.
When the next albums does emerge, it should be a classic. It's admirable that a band in the curious position the Softs are currently in -- spurned by the critics, ignored by the majority -- can ditch scads of old favourites and play sets crammed with unfamiliar new songs which are every bit as good as the old tunes, if not better. The accent is now firmly on strong melody and dance: judging by the number of people shuffling and bopping down at the Hope And Anchor recently, they're succeeding well. The new songs are catchy and very commercial, particularly one called "Underwater Moonlight", which, whilst carrying the hallmarks of Robyn Hitchocck's perverse lyricism, has a great sing-along chorus-line and could be a potential hit single for them. There's even a hint of Reggae too, in the rhyhmic "He's A Reptile", whilst "I Wanna Destroy You" has a refrain that recalls the sublime power that made The Beatles' "Rain" sound so good. For me the best moments of their live set are "Insanely Jealous", a vehement, bitter tirade oozing paranoia from Hitchcock, underscored with unbearable climactic drum rolls, throbbing basses, and shards of feedback from Kimberley Rew (whose guitar playing gets better by the day); "Old Pervert"; and the Bo Diddley-ish "Wey Wey Hep Uh Hole" (which has the most irrelevant lyrics since Copperhead's "Wing Dan Goo", and some great squeaky harmonica breaks).
Look, if you're getting tired of the synthesizer-twiddlings of the Keith Emersons of the '60s and '70s, or the Nouveau Mod movement leaves you cold, then perhaps a shot of The Soft Boys' lunacy is just the right pick-me-up -- 'cause there aren't many bands around at the moment who can match them for style, excitement, and great entertaiment. Go, see 'em immediately.
For those unfamiliar with the band, their current lineup -- as of October 1979 -- consists of Otis Fagg (AKA Morris Windsor) on drums and vocals; Kimberley Rew -- guitar, vocals, and harmonica; Robyn Hitchcock on lead vocals, guitar, and bass; and new man Matthew Seligman on bass (previously a member of Bobby Henry's band, amongst others). The Soft Boys' history is a long and twisted one (but fascinating nonetheless).
Robyn Hitchcock must have paid his dues three times over at least -- if things like that still matter. Apart from solo Folk gigs and busking, he's been a veteran of such groups as the legendary B.B. Blackberry And The Swelterettes (as in plimsolls), The Chosen Few, The Worst Fears, Maureen And The Meatpackers, and Dennis And The Experts (which metamorphized into the Softs in 1976). The first lineup of The Soft Boys to make a record comprised Robyn, Morris, Andy Metcalfe, and a geezer called Alan Davies -- and they are featured on the Raw EP Give It To The Soft Boys, which emerged in Autumn, 1977.
For a first effort it's not bad at all, coming across with many psychedelic overtones -- a bit like Tomorrow, or the "Defecting Gray" Pretty Things on speed. Particularly good is "The Face Of Death", which apparently is about an old Cambridge dosser with a sickly, pallid face who died quite recently; and "Hear My Brane", a clanking Blues-y tune which had me hooked immediately because of its Don Van Vliet-ish feel. In retrospect, it certainly forms a sharp contrast to some of the other music which was being played at the same time -- things like "Holidays In The Sun", "Complete Control", and "Watching The Detectives". It was obvious that there was a bunch of people who weren't going to have an easy ride to the top -- think of all the paranoia that the word "contemporary" evoked a year or so back! With Kimberley coming to replace Alan Davies, and Jim Melton augmenting this lineup -- plus quite a bit of live work -- the sound began to change somewhat, and the possibility of fame began to loom. They landed two prestigious (!) support slots with Elvis Costello at The Roundhouse, and The Damned at their farewell Rainbow extravaganza; and signed up with the emergent Radar Records. Things looked good for all concerned.
In May, 1978 Radar put out a second single, "(I Want To Be An) Anglepoise Lamp" backed with "Fatman's Son" -- two stalwarts from their current set. To many, it was a disappointment -- and to be honest, the single could have been better: it wasn't particularly representative of what The Soft Boys could do -- the words were a bit indecipherable, and the playing lost in the mix-down. However, the harmony vocals were stunning, bringing comparisons with The Monkees and The Byrds. The record was tame in comparison to seeing them live: how many times does this problem rear its ugly head? Live they were devastating: you could hear the full force of the five-part harmonies worked out by bassman Andy Metcalfe. One night I saw them do a perfect parody of Glenn Miller's "In The Mood" as an a cappella, complete with Doo-Wop barber ship harmonies; on another occasion they brought off a similar feat with the Rock 'n' Roll classic "Book Of Love". They used the soaring harmonies to excellent effect on their own material in songs like "Ugly Nora", too.
In the autumn of last year, they recorded an album at Rockfield, but sadly both Radar and the band felt it was unsatisfactory, and it lies unused to this day. [Ed. note -- a recent bootleg, The Day They Ate Brick, includes tracks recorded for this album.] Infuriatingly, live The Soft Boys just got better. The basic sound was dense, busy, a hive of activity: shifting, pounding, intricate rhythms that never slid into the turgid; coloured by the harmonies, Hitchcock's unique voice (much in the mould of Syd Barrett, Ray Davies); their wry humour; and offbeat guitar playing which was discordant, incisive, metallic, chaotic -- Zoot Horn Rollo jamming with The Yardbirds on "Happenings Ten Years Time Ago". The use of Jim Melton's harmonica on some of the songs added another side to the sound -- sometimes a softening of the buzzing guitars, or counterpointing them. As well as featuring songs from their two singles, they played a lot of the material which ended up on their one and only LP to date, oldies like "Poor Will And The Jolly Hangman", and some classic Hitchcock songs -- as-yet unreleased. In particular there are three which just about embody the sound and spirit of The Soft Boys pre-September, 1979: "Have A Heart, Betty (I'm Not Fireproof)" is a snappy Pop song which, had it been released according to plan, might have crept up the charts -- a parody of those harmony bands of the early-'60s, it begins with an a cappela introduction, before bouncing into the song itself -- which features some shimmering guitar-play between Robyn and Kimberley. In stark contrast is the epic "The Asking Tree", a song about a man hanged for stealing a herring. There's a great sense of Gothic drama in this song -- the rhythms lope and even stop at one point, Jim nearly blows his lungs out as his harp squeals and moans around Hitchcock's narrative. Finally, there is the delightful "Love Poisoning", a song which sounds not unlike Syd Barrett in his happier days, and is, again, a catchy, melodic tune.
Despite the live work going well, frustration due to Radar's refusal to release more records carved the inevitable rift, and earlier this year The Soft Boys left the label to set up their own record company -- Two Crabs, the name reflecting Robyn's obsession with crustacea. (Apparently he's got a shrine at home with crabs, prawns, and all manner of to seafood. He also has fresh prawns on his birthday cake [gasp].) After a little switch from The Day They Ate Brick, the album was released in April, called A Can Of Bees -- Robyn having designed the excellent sleeve, which is a touch surreal (like his lyrics). For good measure, there is a dead fish slapped around the band photo on the back cover. The sleeve is devoid of any recording details or band personnel, tho' it's the lineup which recorded the Radar single. What's the music like, then? Having grown to love most of the songs in a live setting, the material was familiar, though the record lacks a good producer -- how about Joe Boyd or Martie Rushent for the next one? The sound quality is okay, but there's no pacing of material, and the live cuts -- notably "Cold Turkey" and "Wading Through A Ventilator" -- shouldn't have been used (in the former case because Hitchcock's got so many good songs of his own -- like "Salamander" -- and in the latter case because it's a bloody mess and isn't a patch on the Raw EP cut).
"Give It To The Soft Boys", one of their oldest songs, kicks off the proceedings with its booming sub-Led Zeppelin riff and lyrics which come under fire from every corner: "Feel like asking a tree for an autograph/Feel like making love to a photograph/Photographs don't smell". Personally, I think it's a bit too Heavy Metal-ish to succeed. But with the corkscrew rhythm of "The Pigworker" oepning up the second number, things begin to improve. "Pigworker" (a nickname for Andy Metcalfe who, incidentally, plays bass on a Fish Turned Human's single, "Turkeys In China") is a great swirling song about a holdiay camp for disinterested baseball players who use a pterodactyl to open a girl called "Heather" (who is full of soap bubbles)! In contrast, "Human Music" is gentle and not unlike The Beatles' "Here, There, Everywhere" -- but still unmistakably The Soft Boys: sample the lines, "I was born with something missing/But I know your lip was made for kissing". "Leppo And The Jooves" seethes with anger and burns along relentlessly, powered by two basses. "Sandra's Having Her Brain Out" is fun (I never thought I'd go around humming a song about a total lobotomy). "Do The Chisel" is a dark slice of late-'70s Psychedelia, and "The Return Of The Sacred Crab" is back to Hitchcock's shellfish fetish (a squid even appears in "Underwater Moonlight"): it tells the tale of a weird incident in a British Rail buffet car!
Following a lengthy tour to promote the album, Jim Melton left to form his own band, whilst Andy Metcalfe (whom I considered as integral a member of the band as Hitchcock) has joined Telephone Bill & The Smooth Operators. That basically brings up up to the present. If you haven't already done so, go out and buy A Can Of Bees, which is now selling in stores like Virgin, and was being offered cheap by a mail order firm in Stafford not too long ago. If nothing else, it's bound to become one of the most sought-after records of the 1980s: a real collector's item (and anyway, it contains some fine music). By the time you read this, they should have done enough live dates to knock the stuff into shape and integrate Matthew into the band -- he's fitting in well, his interplay with Morris perhaps comparable to that of Dave Pegg's and Dave Mattacks' (yeah, Morris is that good) almost a decade ago in Fairport: sparks flying everywhere!
Retrogressive, progressive, vacuous parodyists -- call The Soft Boys what you will, but I'm relying on their slippery, unclassifiable jelly roll to keep me going will into the 1980s.
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